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hunzzzzz · 4 months

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Fight for you - Chapter 1 : strangers

Kendall Roy x original female character

Themes : slow-burn / enemies to lovers

Okay guys this is my first time writing if it’s terrible I’m sorry

Blurb :

Harper Aly is broken. Hanging on by a thread. Desperately trying to fix her life. Kendall is like a breath of fresh air, pulling her out from the deep end.

Kendall is also broken, but something about her makes him want to fight for her. Fight against himself to a better man, be the man she deserves. She was like the first daffodil of spring, after a cold, miserable winter.

Their lives end up entangled in one another, emotions are high, working together gets complicated, promises are broken.

Can Harper give him a chance, despite her trust issues?

Can Kendall prove to be the man that he says he is?

It had been another seemingly endless day at work, to the point where my mind was anything but focused on the task in front of me. Letting out an exasperated sigh I glanced at the clock, 10 minutes past 7. I longed for the day I would leave the office at an acceptable time, as mentioned in my contract. Exhausted, I flung my glasses on the table and made my way out of the office. By the evening time my contacts had dried out and I had switched to my glasses. The building was practically empty, through my blurred vision I could make out a few stray lights on. It was nice knowing I wasn't the only one slaving away at this hour. I hadn't seen daylight in the past 2 months, my pale skin and sunken eye bags could attest to this. My team had been working relentlessly on an upcoming project, and the grunt of all the marketing and PR work landed on me.

I made my way up to the roof, the the only part of my day that I looked forward to. I closed my eyes, taking the first drag of my cigarette. The nicotine buzzed in my ears, feeling the day's tension slowly drift away. I often came here when the building was scarce to stress smoke in peace. I had never been an avid smoker, just the occasional cigarette if I was particularly inebriated. But when life gives you a fiance who publicly humiliates you in front of the whole world, you tend to pick up a few bad habits. The combination of the man whom I loved, cheating on me, combined with the overbearing workload, had plummeted me to an all time low. I walked towards the edge of the building admiring the admiring the view below. New York was beautiful at night, I found solace in the city lights. From this height I couldn't make out what was going on below. It was an escape from the hustle bustle of the city, I could finally hear my thoughts so clearly.

“Do you ever just think of jumping?” I was ripped from my tranquil state. I snapped my neck to my right to identify the culprit, squinting my eyes, trying to make out who it was. “Just imagine the adrenaline coursing through your veins.” Said the blurry man as he brought his cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply. I was so lost in my own world, that I hadn't even heard him creeping up beside me.

“Yeah you should test it out. Let me know how it goes.” I snapped, annoyed at the stranger who had rudely interrupted my peace of mind. The 5 minutes of the day that help keep me sane, keep me afloat.

“Uh, okay. Not your day huh?” He chuckled. He had the audacity to find humor in this, it made my blood boil.

“If you keep talking to me I might actually just jump.” I attempted to climb up onto the ledge.

“Okay- fucking extreme reaction. Fine.” He sputtered, backing away, hands held up in surrender. “ Okay look- just can you please- just fucking get down now.” I retreated back down with a victorious smirk. Grateful to finally be left alone, I wasn’t particularly keen on making small talk with some cocky guy from the financing or legal department, I had already done enough of that for one day. I took the last few drags of my cigarette and tossed it away without a care, watching it fizzle out on the cold concrete.

“Theres literally a fucking trashcan right beside you, but no- by all means please litter.” I must have jumped 10 feet in the air, startled hearing the same voice behind me, I scrambled back only to be met with a firm chest against my back. He gripped my wrists from behind as I instinctively brought them up to do God knows what. “Hey, hey- it's still me.” He chuckled. First this man ruined my smoke break and as if that wasn’t enough, now he amped it up a notch and tried to send me into cardiac arrest, some people just have no shame.

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?” I all but shrieked, trying to thrash away from him. “Dude, let go of me, or I swear to Go-”.

“Or what? You’ll- uh, fucking threaten to jump off the building again?” He mused, using my own words against me. “Hey easy, easy. I just thought I’d stick around you know given that you’re a suicide risk.” His deep chuckle vibrated through my body, his breath sending chills down my spine. I could feel his chest rising against my back, his intoxicating cologne burning my nostrils. The scent, the exact same one that left me shattered in a million pieces. It all just became too much, my mind began flooding with sour memories from the past.

“Just leave me alone.” I muttered, my voice shaking, as I finally broke free of his death grip. Slumping my shoulders over the ledge, cradling my head in my hands. I rapidly blinked, trying to ward off the tears that threatened to spill, I can't let myself go back to that place. I won't let myself.

“Oh shit- I was fucking joking. Are you okay?” I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Look I’m sorry please don't cry. I’m sorry, I’m a fucking idiot.” His voice was soft as he tried to awkwardly comfort me, trying to make sense of my sudden burst of emotions. Rubbing soothing circles between my shoulder blades. I shrugged his hand off, and cleared my throat, straightening my back, ready to tell him to go to hell. I turned to face him, only to be met by soft chocolate eyes piercing into mine, full of concern. Timidly breathing as though, any sudden movement might push me over the edge, emotionally .

It felt as though all the pain that I so desperately tried to block from my mind, began leaking through the dam. The facade that I had built, convincing my friends, family and co-workers that I was fine, came crumbling down like Jenga .

I choked out a sob as my eyes betrayed me. I let the tears fall, each one washing away a little bit of pain I had been holding onto for months. Drenching my cheeks and leaving me gasping for breath. Each stifled sob echoed the loud, resounding ache in my heart. I was finally allowing myself to grieve my broken heart, my relationship, my ex-fiance— since he's dead to me now .

Deep down I knew this emotional breakdown was bound to happen sooner or later. I just never thought it would be at work with a stranger comforting me.

“Hey, you're okay.” His voice was velvety, soothing my anxieties like a warm blanket. “You’re going to be okay.” His hands gripped my shoulders as they viciously shook.

Once the sobs finally subsided, I felt a lightness I hadn’t felt in a long time. “Well shit, that was embarrassing.” I tried to humour myself, wiping at my mascara stained cheeks slightly, turning away from him and facing the city, so he couldn't see what a mess I had become. “I’m sorry, I don't know where that came from.” I whispered, keeping my eyes glued to the skyline ahead, too ashamed to even look at him. Something about crying in front of people or in public, felt so deeply shameful to me, I felt so vulnerable. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

“Are you sure- because uh, I don't know- there seemed to be a little something more to it.” He questioned sceptically. “Look, I've been there before, bottling it all up. Faking a smile to the point where I almost actually fucking convinced myself- that maybe, just maybe, I actually am happy.” He smiled as he spoke, but there was a deep sadness behind his words. “I’ve been to rock bottom, countless times. So look- just- I’m saying, I don't know what’s going on with you, but, just trust me the more you try to push it away the more it consumes you.” His radiant voice was like a beacon of comfort, guiding me through to the light at the end of the tunnel. For the first time in months I felt like I could open up to someone, without any judgment.

“Okay you got me there, lock me up and throw away the key.” I admitted, earning a small laugh from him. “It’s just so embarrassing to even say out loud. Promise you won't laugh.” I glanced over at him. I already had trust issues from my childhood, so being betrayed by the one person that I thought I could blindly trust without a doubt, shattered me. Before the betrayal, I would put effort into being more social and open with people I called friends. But now I found comfort in the loneliness. I was on a 24 hour look out, working overtime to guard my heart, from ever feeling that type of pain ever again. I knew I wasn't strong enough to survive it again, so I never gave anyone a chance to even challenge it.

“What- of course not. I promise.” He responded in an instant, hand held over his heart.

“My fiance cheated on me, I'm sorry let me reiterate.” I corrected myself. “My fiance of 8 years cheated on me with my best friend.” I confessed. “And the worst part is that it happened right under my fucking nose. But I was too busy planning our dream wedding, setting up appointments with realtors; looking for a bigger place for when we decided to start a family.” I laughed at the last part, somehow saying it out loud sounded so ridiculous— how I was so oblivious to the truth. “I was so focused on the future, letting it blind me from what was actually happening right in front of me.”

“Shit- yeah no that’s uh- that's rough.” He nodded, taking in my words. “Fuck yeah, I get it now. Understood.” His voice was full of empathy. “I can't imagine- genuinely I’m fucking sorry.” Why was he apologising, when the person I longed to hear those words from, felt no remorse. Not a single ounce of guilt for hurting me in the worst possible way, leaving me broken.

“It’s fine. I’m in my acceptance phase now.” I reflected, feeling at ease sharing my raw thoughts with him, knowing that I’d never cross paths with him again. There was no harm in over-sharing with a stranger— what’s the worst that could happen?

“Yeah it sure seems like it.” He chuckled.

“No seriously- I am. Don't let my little breakdown earlier fool you.” I tried to defend myself. “That was partially work related too. The stress of this job has got me pulling out gray hairs. I’m too young to have gray hairs.” I sighed running a hand through my hair subconsciously.

“Okay now hear me out. Maybe- just maybe it’s just your bitchy attitude, that’s making you age?” He joked. Now that the haze of my inner turmoil finally simmered down, I saw his true colours shining through— god he was such an ass.

“Wow, creepy and a jokester. You really are a package deal.” I clasped my hand over my chest, feigning admiration. “I’m sure it’s not a big deal for someone of your prehistoric age to have gray hair, but for the younger generation, we take it very seriously. I don’t expect you to understand. You’re probably too busy dying your hair jet black every morning or getting fitted for your hearing aids.” My words left him stunned, as his mouth hung open in shock. It was clear that nobody had ever put him in his place before; humbled him; brought him back down to Earth. His entire persona radiated— finance bro— the worst of the worst kind of people.

“Okay- ouch. You fucking shoot to kill.” He finally recovered from my brutal attack. “And I’ll have you know my hair is naturally this colour.” He said, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “And also- I’m still fucking young. I know how to use twitter, I listen to Kendrick, I know how it’s hanging these days.” He said trying to sound confident but I didn’t miss the slight hesitation in his voice.

I burst out laughing, feeling my chest tighten as I gasped for air in between giggles. “Oh god- my stomach hurts- please you’re killing me here.” I took a moment trying to compose myself, as he watched his lips pressed into a straight line, not amused. “I’m sorry but using twitter, and listening to Kendrick doesn’t qualify you to be as young, and hip as you think it does.”

“Fuck you- I’m not even that old. I’m not even close to middle-aged.” He threw his hands up frustrated.

“You keep telling yourself that grandpa.” I smirked, loving how easy it was to get under his skin. Playing him at his own game, if he was going to dick then so was I. It was clear that I was winning the sword fight.

“Jesus- you’re fucking mean.” He smiled, shaking his head, taking my insults with a pinch of salt.

“Well, you know my villain origin story.” I tried to lighten the mood. “Your turn.”

“My turn? Uh- for what exactly?” He asked, eyebrows raised.

“I don’t know maybe your villain origin story, you know, how you became such an insufferable prick.” I replied grinning. “Harassing innocent women who are trying to enjoy a peaceful cigarette.”

“Oh wow- okay. So now I am what- some sort of creepy, stalker who uh- fucking comforts broken women?” He laughed, brushing off my harsh words. His laugh was like a breath of fresh air, so contagious, I joined in too. I couldn't remember the last time I laughed like this, let alone even smiled— It felt like a lifetime ago.

“Answer the question, creep.”

“I guess we're sticking with creep then.” He huffed. “No origin story here. Just a guy who came up here to avoid my family’s daily fucking drama. But then heroically saved a beautiful young lady’s life.” He smiled, eyes twinkling in the city lights. If my cheeks weren’t already pink and puffy from all the crying, they definitely were now.

“Wow, my hero!” I exclaimed sarcastically, rolling my eyes at the absurd lie.

A strong breeze picked up, I subconsciously wrapped my arms around my shoulders attempting to warm myself. I didn’t think to bring my jacket with me for a brief moment on the roof. Little did I know I would spend a half hour, pouring my heart out to a stranger.

“Are you cold here, take it.” He offered me his blazer, shrugging it off wordlessly, seeing my teeth chatter. I graciously accepted it, his scent still lingering on the expensive fabric. He lit another cigarette and offered me one too. I brought it to my lips, as he leaned in cupping his hands, to light it— if the brassy breeze would allow so. As he brought the flame closer, I finally got a good look at his face, the clearest I had been able to all night. I immediately recognised him. At that moment, I genuinely wanted to jump off the building, for real this time.

“Oh my— fucking— god.” I gaped at him, eyes wide as the blood drained from my face. I dropped the cigarette from my lips, stepping away from him. “Kendall fucking Roy. You have got to be kidding me.” I gasped. “Why didn't you say anything?” A million thoughts raced through my head, the most prominent one being— I was definitely going to lose my job. I had just told the COO of the very company I work at, the future heir to Waystar and Royco; to jump off the roof; allowed him to watch me have a spontaneous nervous breakdown; and if that wasn’t already humiliating enough I then proceeded to insult him to his face.

“Wait, are you serious?” He asked, lips parted in silent surprise.

“I’m not wearing my glasses.” I tried to reason, scrambling back, putting some much needed distance between us. “I have to go.” I quickly tried to escape, after digging my own grave.

“YO, wait- hold up.” He yelled, hot on my tail. I slammed the door shut behind me, trying to buy myself a couple of extra seconds as I scurried down the stairs, my heels about to give out under me. I made it back down to my office in record time and collapsed in my chair, heaving. Facepalming once I realised I still had his blazer on.

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nimmee · 2 years

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This will be Nanamin Kento NSFW. I have been thinking of writing this for a long time. I did write a really long-ass post but tumblr just malfunctioned and I lost my post. Nevermind the obstacles here is a shorter version. I'll write fully detailed blurbs based on these head canons.

Note : a lot of these headcanons are inspired from different posts that I have liked and reblogged on my account. Please go check their blogs out. I do not intend to steal or cheat.

(Minors DNI)

Here we go :

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

1. Nanamin is a Switch. He loves dom-ing, he loves subbing. He loves to switch from one to another.

2. He has Mommy/Ma'am kink where he's the sub. He has a Sir / Daddy kink too where he is the dom.

3. Kento is a shy yet curious man, he loves discovering new things. He's very open to new experiences. Toys? Yessssss. Bondage and handcuffs? Yessssss. Knife and blade play? Yessssss absolutely. Bring it own he can handle it.

4. He Is very vocal. Dirty talk is his thing. That is his technique both in love and war. Given his cursed technique and how explaining his plans to his opponent makes it stronger, its symmetrical to love making for him.

5. Foreplay baby. He is the expert. He loves it. Wants it. Needs it. Makes it. He's the king of foreplay. All kinds of foreplay, dirty? Soft? Dangerous? Scary? EroticMassages? He knows his game.

6. Aftercare baby. This man is the living-breathing human form of aftercare. Our ex-salary man loves it. He enjoys both Giving and receiving aftercare. He would pamper you until and after that wap of his lover's heals, he doesn't care if it would take hours, days or weeks to heal the wreckage, he would show and shower his lover with all his love, care and affection. He would run baths, give relaxing massages, put medicine on his lover's bruises, carry them to bed. The next morning it's breakfast in bed and cuddles and snuggles.

7. When he's subbing for you, he means to express his undying, indestructible devotion to you. His body, soul, heart and mind all yours. When he subs he means worship. He means letting go and giving in to you. He is completely yours. You have complete control over him. Given the fact that he's always in control, this is Nanamin's way of letting go of that control completely with you and for you.

8. Consent. Period. 'Consent' is Nanamin Kento's middle name.

9. Kissing? Making out? He's a lightweight. He can't handle make out sessions that last more than 10 minutes. Kissing turns him on, like TURNS HIM ONNNN. he can't make through a 20 minute make out session without getting a boner. Kiss him for a bit longer when he's about to leave for work and all he would think about all day is how wants to kiss you more. (Makes sense why he's a foreplay expert).

10. Fluff kissing? Without any sexual ineundo? Yessssss absolutely. He loves kisses all kinds of kisses. Tummy kisses? Navel kisses?. Neck kisses? Bare back kisses? Kisses behind the knee? Kisses on the toe? Kisses on palms? Kisses on wrist? Eye kisses? Nose boops? Forehead and temple kisses?. He loves it all.

11. Sexual kisses? Neck and jaw kisses drive him crazy. He melts when you (his lover), drag and pepper slow and soft kisses on his jaw, bite and suck at his neck, lick and suck his earlobe. He almost lost it when you first nibbled at his earlobe. Nipple kisses? The first time you had put your mouth around his nipple, sucking and licking, swirling your tongue around, he had let out a frightened whimper, then sat up alarmingly and froze for a moment. Scared and embarrassed you had asked him if he was alright and apologised for crossing any limits. All he could do was stare at you wide eyed, brows furrowed and whispered that he hadn't felt that kind of pleasure ever in his entire life. He had the same reaction when you sucked at his Adam's apple and his collar bones. He was amazed at that sorcery. Loves it when you slowly drag kisses along the whole length of his spine and pepper his bare back with pecks and kisses. Gets immensely turned on when you kiss his love handles and lick and suck at his navel. The anticipation of dangerously low kisses drives him impatient.

12. Loves those two dimples on either side of your spine at the base of your back. He loves how his thumbs fit perfectly in them as he grabs your ass.

13. His moans and whimpers are pretty af. He gets a tad bit high pitched when subbing and begging for more, which you find absolutely hot and adorable at the same time. His early morning just-woke-up-voice moans are so deep and delicious that most of the time you kiss him as he moans in pleasure, so that you can taste his delicious whimpers and feel that deep vibration of his voice in your chest too.

Bonus : 14. He and his lover has lactation kink. Which both of them accidentally found out. He's he sub here.

Bonus : 15. Our man Kento knows the difference between foreplay massages and aftercare massages. He makes you come atleast 2 times before he relieves himself along with one more of your orgasm. He could go for three rounds straight without hesitation, but only if you want him to. He's satisfied if you are happy. Also orgasm ratio (yours : him) 7:3. (based on fem reader). Now do the math. I'll leave that to you.

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blowedtvhead · 2 years

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One nice little thing/compliment about your moots?

I wasn't sure if you wanted me to say a collective compliment or make it individual 😅, but I'll compliment my moots individually, hehe (sorry if these little blurbs don't make sense or there are terrible grammatical errors 😅)

@im-a-loser-fight-me - even tho you don't rlly use tumblr that much, i still love you very much and wish you all the best!! i love that we can talk for literal hours and never get bored! like I'm so lucky to have you in my life ily bestie <3

@da1ryqveen - another person i'm so lucky to have in my life! you are such an inspo to me!! like i always look forward to our interactions! it's gonna be hard when you go abroad! having you to talk to is so amazing like, ugh ily

@imjustasimpxd - you're such a sweetie!! like you were one of my first moots that I made that I didn't already know irl!! i love every single one of our interactions <3

@little-miss-chaoss - twinnie!! i love that we're lowkey twins!! also, your sweetness always brightens my day, and the fact that you love and support fanfic authors makes you godtier

@stygianoir - another one of my first moots that I made <3 I have sm love and respect for you like you're another person who loves and supports writers, and that is just 🫡 without you, many of us would quit

@b-achiras - i have admired you and your writing for literal YEARS like i was there for your og writing blog, and your writing is always 100/100 like you are a HUGE inspiration for me, so when we became moots, i died on the spot from happiness

@bbiemilk - you are literally one the cutest people I've ever had the pleasure of knowing!! and your writing is always so hot and good like omg and you are a fellow keigo lover <33 also your themes are always so pretty and cute!

@dark-mnjiro - whenever I see you in my notifs I get really excited!! you are literally so sweet to me and it makes me 🥹 like I feel so loved and happy like idk just makes me so excited!! also you always such cool themes

@alucrds - i love love talking with you!! just sharing our for certain characters or when i gush about your amazing themes. like seeing you on my dash makes me all happy and giggly

@touyyes - i love obsessing over Leon with you!! i love when we talk about video games together <3 like i never thought i'd meet someone who likes this stuff but I'm it's you and that we found each other <3

@rczc - you are literally so sweet!! like talking about txt together like i love!! so glad i found someone who likes kpop!! and when you pop into my ask box to chat, i always get excited like you're so easy to talk to and funny <3

@azxremoon - you are so kind and always have such sweet words to give! i can't wait for you to become a fanfic writer!! you're gonna be such a good writer, and everything you write is gonna be 10/10!!

@shcyc - cutie shoyo lover!! you're another writer that inspires me sm!! like all of your writing is sooo good and i love being able to read!! like actually ty for blessing the world with your writing

@haithanist - well, firstly you're theme and pinned are very very sexy! it's also nice that you're somebody who loves alhaitham!! like your alhaitham fics are soooooo good!! jealous alhaitham is amazing and so hot

@kentoangel - your thirsts are either very sweet or very hot, and i love it, and i am so here for it! like the scenarios you come up with are genius like gimme your smarts 😤 you're literally so cool!!

@festive - multitalented royalty!! like omg everything you post is sooooooooo good and you can draw too!! you honestly can take over the world with your talents!! i love your banner and pfp sooo much!!

@thetempleofnyx - you always post so many good fanart pics!! like where do you find such beautiful and hot content?? but your writing? OMG, ITS SOOOO GOOD like your genshin content is amazing 🫠 (i love your ayato and albedo fics)

@lumi-does-some-stuff - you're so kind and sweet!! like your fluffy content is soooo cute!! i love the purple color scheme of your blog too!! it's absolutely adorable!!

@haitaniapologist - your theme and blog look are soooooo pretty, like the blues and whites ugh, gorgeous!! you're also super duper nice and i love your tokyo revengers fics!!

@keigosmelody - you're someone i've admired as a fic writer for quite a while!! so, when you became my moot, i died on the spot!! you are so kind and talented!! i love our interactions!!

@littleoanh - you are literally so kind and sweet!! like, we've only had a few interactions, but every time we chat, i get so happy and excited because you're actually so amazing like i feel like i can go to you for anything!

@oomiya - you're so sweet!! we've talked a few times but every time you've made me feel heard and happy!! you're super talented and i can't wait to get to know you more!

@mrskodzuken - you're moodboards are soooooo good like oml!! I wish i was as talented as you!! you're someone who i have admired a lot <33 like i see your writing and i get so excited and want to be able to write like you (because you're so good and talented!)

#\^o^/ Answered!!#ଘ(੭ˊ꒳ ˋ)੭ Lauren’s Moots <3 #anon #anonymous

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blubbledia · 4 months

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I watched - Evil Dead 2 - 1987

"A campy horror movie who knows it's camp but not in a bad way."

I like this franchise, like in the, "I've seen the original trilogy and some of the TV show". I'd recommend this movie to people, 1 is take it or leave it and Army of Darkness if you enjoy the slapstick nature. I like A Wounded Fawn for the same kind of reason I like this movie. It's just, "let's torture a guy for the majority of the runtime".

That being said, I don't have much else to say about the movie itself. But I have a lot of thoughts about what I'm doing with these and my critical lens below.

I keep plugging along on these little review things as a sort of diary I think. I'm not actually sure. I've tried diaries and it never works. But this is consistent (at least on a keeping the queue logged so I can come back to it later). If I ever choose I can compare how I view a movie one viewing to another, or just get my general viewpoint from a certain time.

The other reason is much smaller, I figure if anyone takes a longer look at the things I like to watch/read/play, and finds enough similarities they could appreciate other things I enjoyed. Also the fact I limit myself to Games, Movies, TV shows, and Books. Like, comparitively it's a fraction of what I'm doing. It doesn't cover the hours of youtube I watch. Or the games I partially play. Or the music I listen to.

Part of the reason is music, I just enjoy what I listen to and don't have much to say about it. I like it, it's good. Partially played games I can't in good conscience put out material on. Either because I didn't like them in which case there is no reason to put negativity out there without at least trying to leave good feedback. Or because it's hard to speak on only a portion of the story (which is mostly what I play for). Youtube doesn't get any blurbs not because it isn't chock full of effort. Moreso because I can't devote that much time to doing "I watched" on that many videos. And all that doesn't even touch on the small amount of multiplayer things I do. I've been playing Stardew Valley modded and Monster Hunter Rise!

Writing out my thoughts on this was useful because I'm thinking maybe I keep a monthly, "Here are a handful of things I've been interacting with that don't warrant a deeper dive." Moving forward thing I guess.

Or maybe my critical writing is just so prolific and interesting that it demands attention. Speaking of...

I have no idea what my lens looks like. Outside of the fact that 6 and 7 out of 10 media has more to talk about for me. A lot of times how I interact with media feels lacking. I've probably typed out a variation on that sentence before. There's a game I'm playing right now that I have a lot to talk about (but later). But I don't have much to say about Evil Dead.

It makes me wonder what I'm missing. What subtext. What prejudices. What influences. Regardless of whether I'm consuming media by themselves with no greater knowledge of their creators or themes. That doesn't mean they exist in the vacuum I'm consuming them. Counter to that. Games and Video involve a lot of people. There is so much of the world and people that gets distilled into these products. Obviously this is dependent. Indie things and books involve generally a much smaller number.

Back to the point, sometimes I feel that I can't pick these things up. Actually wait, another tangent. It's ok that I don't! That doesn't invalidate how I or other's have interacted with something. Even if I don't pick up on as many of the themes of like, Signalis, it doesn't mean I can't enjoy my time with it.

But there are times where it can matter. When either on purpose or on accident creators weave in themes that are detrimental. I want to see these things not just to demonize the works. Just being able to recognize them and point them out is enough! There are times where it's like I can only view the edge of the canvas of a piece of art I know is beautiful. But I can't shift my perspective enough to view the whole image.

So I think that's it. If you stuck with my rambling and get anything out of it, take this knowledge. Things are molded by people and those people are molded by the world around them. Regardless of their intent, they put themselves into what they make, the good, and the ugly.

#rewatch #evil dead 2 #movie #january 2024

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watermelonlovershigh · 3 years

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You Get Sick in the Back of an Uber

AN: so this was a story i have had in my drafts for like three months and just never found motivation to finish it. i decided to finish this first out of my drafts because it was one of the ones that had the most already written for it. unlike some of my others that don't have much written yet. and this was supposed to be longer but i got lazy and ended the end with no dialogue and shorted the story. but i guess that's fine because the main part of this was the uber incident and not necessary the aftercare. (i just love to always include aftercare whether its with sex or getting sick. unless its a blurb) @harryhoney-bee suggested number 1. on my voting post so thank you for requesting i finish this one shot idea that was in my drafts.

This story contains: puke, drunken person, caring husband

{ husband!harry - dad!harry - Grammys 2021 Harry - 4 kids (any age you imagine) }

word count: 1765

When you drink too much at the Grammys, you end up having to get sick in the uber ride home and Harry cares for you.

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Back Story-

After the Grammys, Harry and I decided to go to the little after party that was being held for the Grammy attendees. We knew we couldn't stay too long because we had to get back home to our kids. They were currently with our babysitter but she couldn't stay all night. She has to go home at some point. So we made sure to watch the time.

At the afterparty, drinks were flowing. I haven't drank in a while due to the fact I had been pregnant not too long ago. This was the first night I was allowed to drink and I decided to do just that. Harry was aware of me drinking and promised to watch and take care of me. Though we were at this afterparty for him, he wanted me to let loose and have some fun as well.

But what he wasn't expecting was for me to drink the amount I did. I didn't mean to go over board. It just kind of happened. People handing out drinks left and right and next thing I knew, I was drunk. Not tipsy, drunk. When Harry noticed how drunk I was, he decided it's best to go home.

And because Harry also had drank some alcohol, he wasn't in a state to drive either. By no means was he as drunk as me though. Maybe just tipsy but he didn't want to risk it. So he decided to call an uber for us.

--------------------

Current-

We're sitting in the back of the uber on our way home. It's about an hour drive since the city is crowded with traffic due to the Grammys. Right about now is when I regret drinking any alcohol tonight. Because I haven't drank in over a year, my body isn't use to the poison running through my veins. So you could say I'm a lightweight now. My head is throbbing. My vision is blurry. My stomach is turning. Lets just say I regret all my decisions tonight that lead to me feeling this way.

"Harrrrry I don't feel good." I manage to slur out.

"You probably should have stuck to champagne instead of vodka my love." Harry responds, while stroking my hair out of my face in a gentle manner.

Another 10 minutes pass and I'm feeling very nauseous. I'm trying to focus on my breathing but it's not working.

"Harry my stomach hurts." I whisper with hooded eyes.

"Like you're gonna be sick?" Harry questions with panic.

I nod my head and hear Harry asking the driver if he can pull over.

"Can you pull over? My wife is feeling ill." Harry frantically questions the uber driver up front.

"I'm sorry sir but this freeway is packed and there is no way I can get to the side of the road right now." the driver says with a bit of an attitude.

Hearing that made me and Harry both start to panic.

"Well do you have any sick bags in here?" my husband asks.

"Sorry I don't." the driver retorts in a uncaring tone. What kind of uber driver doesn't carry sick bags for when drunks potentially need a ride but feel like they are going to be sick?

I just barley hear Harry let out a frustrated sigh and turn to me.

"Try and relax love. Take deep breaths for me, alright." Harry whispers while rubbing my back as I'm slumped over his body, too disoriented to even hold my head up.

About 3 minutes later, I feel vomit rise up my throat. There isn't much I can to do. The driver already said he couldn't pull over, nor does he have sick bags. I sit up from my slouched position and clasp a hand over my mouth. My legs are bouncing up and down. I'm trying desperately not to puke but I'm doing a poor job. Harry is sitting up with me, trying to comfort me but his words are all a blur at this point.

"If you have to be sick darling, let it out. I'll pay to get this uber cleaned, okay." Harry states in my ear. I know he'd rather not have me puke on the floor of the uber, right beside him, but he can tell I'm struggling and in discomfort.

Hearing those words was all the conformation I needed. I remove my hand from my mouth and let out a gush of alcoholic bile spew from my mouth and onto the backseat floor board. Harry gathers my hair in his hands so it's not in my face. My vomit splatters all over my legs and on the bottom of Harry's Gucci suit. I'd feel terrible about that if I wasn't so out of it, but my mind is a mushed up blur.

"Shhh, that's it. You're alright." Harry reassures me. The uber driver lets out a sigh of disgust, but this is truly his fault that I'm throwing up in his uber right now anyways.

Heave after heave, I let out more of the alcohol that was poisoning my system, right onto the floor. It's not a pretty sight. I'm having a cold sweat and my body is trembling. Though Harry has a weak stomach, when it comes to his wife (me) or his kids, he can always handle a bit of throw up. Or a lot like currently. It's like a fatherly/husband instinct that comes over him and he feels only adrenaline, not yuck.

Finally I feel my stomach relax and I sit up, breathing heavy with vomit dripping down my chin. Without thinking, I wipe it off with the back of my hand and smear it on my already ruined dress. "Feeling better?" Harry asks in a low tone.

"Mhmm." I hum, not really feeling like talking. My drunken brain has cleared up some from the majority of the alcohol being out of my system, but I still feel the after affects drinking brings. I just lean my head on Harry's shoulder for the rest of the ride home and allow the cool breeze to blow on my face. The uber driver did us all a favor by rolling the windows down so we didn't suffocate on the nasty smell of my sick.

---------------------

After-

When we arrived home, Harry payed the uber driver, not giving much of a tip and told him that he'd have someone clean his car out in the morning. As well as a half assed apology for my incident beings it could have been prevented. Then carefully, Harry lifted me out the uber and carried me into our Los Angeles home. Good thing our kids were all asleep because they shouldn't have to see their mother like this. Covered in puke and half drunk.

Harry took me to our bathroom and quickly ran down stairs to pay our babysitter, hoping she didn't question my appearance when she saw my state as we came through the front door. She didn't thankfully and left soon after her check was handed to her. Harry came back up to where he left me and helped me clean up and get ready for bed.

He stripped us of our vomit covered clothes and helped me into the big walk-in shower we have in our master bathroom. Then after he delicately washed our bodies along with my hair, he helped us out and dried us off. We brushed our teeth, me with the help of my husband because I was still a bit dizzy. After we're clean of sick and smelt fresh, he helped me put some panties and a t-shirt over my nude body and boxers on himself; just incase our kids woke up and needed us for whatever reason.

Harry helped me into our large bed and tucked me in, bending down to kiss my forehead. Then he walked down to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water and a bucket incase I needed to be sick again at some point through-out the rest of the early morning. When he had all the items he intended to grab, Harry came back to our bedroom where I was already passed out with sleep.

So he just set the water on my night stand and the bucket on the floor, beside my side of the bed. Then Harry quietly exited our room and went to each of our child's bedrooms to make sure they were fine and still asleep like they should be, which they thankfully were.

When everything was done and taken care of, Harry turned the bedroom lights out and slipped in the covers with me. He helped my body scoot over and I cuddled into his warm body. I didn't realize it in my state of sleep but I knew when I awoke, I'll be thinking about how grateful I am to have a wonderful husband like Harry.

He takes such good care of me. He didn't get upset that I drank too much on his special night and accidently got wasted. He never once got upset that I basically got throw up on his expensive suit tonight in the uber. He didn't get annoyed that he had to shower both me and him past midnight, though he was exhausted. Harry loves taking care of me (and our kids) and wouldn't wish for any other life. Even when his life becomes chaotic and stressful. Harry loves his family dearly and his family love him just as much or more.

Masterlist (regular smut, fluff & sicfics)

My Favorite Harry Styles Fics MASTERLIST

Harry Styles Series - One Shots & Blurbs Masterlist

Harry Styles blurbs, concepts, & short stories Masterlist- (short writing with little to no dialog)

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #husband!harry #dad!harry #harry styles sicfic #sicfic #harry styles grammys #grammys 2021 #harry styles comfort #soft!harry #husbandandwife #harry styles uber

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hockeylvr59 · 3 years

Note

I don’t know if you remember writing this but would you consider doing a part 2 to the blurb you wrote about Sidney having a son and not wanting to be in the picture and he comes back 15 years later?

So I’ve been sitting on this message forever and I wasn’t sure that a second part was ever in the plans but uh...here you go. I’m not sure I love the ending on this but we’re going with it. (1,703 words)

~~~~~

It had started with a favor. One that you hated asking for. One that you knew was likely to come with strings attached. One that was solely for the sake of your son.

You remember sitting there with the number entered into your phone waiting for you to press the green call button for more than ten minutes. You remember the anxious feeling deep in the pit of your stomach as the phone rang. You remember hearing your name in that familiar deep dulcet tone.

“Hi, Sidney.” You’d breathed, your throat going tight already.

“I didn’t think you were going to call…” He trailed off. “It’s been...well months since I left you a message.”

“I...honestly I wasn’t planning on calling.” You admitted. “But I need a favor. Well, Charlie needs a favor.” Before he could say anything you continued, jumping right into it. “You have a personal gym here, don’t you? Charlie...he’s...he’s going crazy not being able to work out with everything in lockdown. Which means I’m going crazy because he’s going crazy and with trying to work from home it’s all just a mess. We’ve made it this far but I don’t think anything is going to open any time soon and he’s already hating being away from the rink this long…”

Before you’d been able to say anything else Sidney had cut you off.

“If you’re asking if he can use my private gym to work out the answer is yes.” You remember letting out a sigh of relief but also waiting for the other shoe to drop. When the line remained quiet after that you spoke softly once more.

“That’s it? Just yes.” You questioned.

“Just yes Y/N.” Sidney stated. “Did you really think I’d say no?”

You paused, pursing over your words. “I expected any agreement to come with a condition.” You admitted. You heard Sidney sigh over the line a few times.

“No condition. Would I like to get the chance to talk to him...yes. But I’m not going to refuse to let him use my unoccupied gym unless he does. I fucked up and I don’t think I’m in any position to be demanding anything just because you’ve asked for a small favor. Goodness knows you have a right to ask way more than this from me given everything.”

The brutal honesty with which he treated himself was only a bit surprising and you murmured soft thanks on behalf of your son who was going to be so excited to get to use a more proper gym. Not knowing what else to say, you made an excuse to end the call, your heart racing at having spoken with Sidney for the first time since he left.

A key with a short sheet of information had been left in your mailbox only two days later and while you had expected Sidney to keep his word, you hadn’t expected it to be so soon. Charlie had been thrilled when you told him and for at least an hour each day from that day forward you took your son over to Sidney’s gym allowing him to start training again even if he couldn’t go full throttle since mom could only do so much as a spotter.

Having spent months watching your teenage son struggle through quarantine, it was incredible watching him come back to life right in front of your eyes. At the same time, watching him like this brought all of the Sidney out in him and you fought back how hard it was seeing your son take more and more after his father.

___

Charlie had always had a large amount of respect for his father, at least as a player. And lately, it seemed like his respect for him as a person was growing.

All Charlie’s life it wasn’t articles about Sidney Crosby on ice that caught your son’s attention, it was the ones about how he treats people off-ice. Many times you’d discussed the hurt feelings your son maintained knowing his father continued to do so many things for other people while being completely out of the picture with his own son. You couldn’t pretend you knew how it felt for your son to see Sidney running hockey camps and playing with his Little Penguins or spending time with Alex Letang and Nikita Malkin. But you knew that it was hard for him.

But since Charlie had started working out in Sid’s gym, using Sid’s artificial ice, you could see some of your son’s hardened walls start to soften because for the first time his dad had done something for him and him alone.

So when Charlie came into your room around 10:30 pm on August 7th, you knew there was something important on his mind before he even opened his mouth.

“Can we…can we call him?” Charlie had asked. “I want to talk to him.” Charlie didn’t need to clarify who he was talking about, you were well aware. And at first, your protective instincts took over. The Penguins had just been eliminated from the play-in round of playoffs and it was Sidney’s 33rd birthday. The odds were very likely that Sidney would not be in a good mood at all and you didn’t want your son being subjected to the brunt of his frustrations.

Eventually, though, those light brown eyes wore you down.

“We’ll text him.” You agreed. This way if Sidney was in a foul mood he could just ignore it or say so without putting too much pressure on him.

Feel free to disregard this if you’re not up for it but Charlie would like to call you.

Chewing on your lip you hugged Charlie close while waiting to see if you’d get any response. You knew that he would understand if Sidney didn’t want to talk after that kind of loss but at the same time you knew it would hurt a little too, facing any kind of rejection from his dad.

After just a few minutes your phone lit up with a FaceTime request and you took a deep breath before answering it, Sidney’s tired face appearing on screen.

“Wow...someone is tech-savvy.” You murmured in greeting having not expected a FaceTime at all. You ignored the way you could tell his eyes were raking over you and instead murmured that you were going to let the two of them talk, passing the phone over to Charlie. For a moment you thought you heard Sidney’s breath catch as you left the room motioning that you would just be downstairs.

“So I’m not sure it’s been a Happy Birthday so far…” You heard Charlie speak as you moved to give them some privacy. Settling onto the living room couch with a pint of ice cream, you waited as patiently as you could.

It was nearly midnight when Charlie came downstairs with your phone in his hand, flopping onto the couch next to you after kissing your head.

“Thanks mom.” He whispered and you nodded snuggling close for a few minutes before sending him up to bed. You didn’t feel the need to ask about what they had talked about, Charlie would share in time if he wanted to. It made you a little uneasy but that wasn’t important.

As you slipped into bed, your phone buzzed with three small words.

Thank you Y/N.

____

After that first conversation, Charlie called Sidney every other week and the two of them talked for at least half an hour.

Sidney never tried to push boundaries though. He never tried to buy his way into Charlie’s life, he never demanded more than either you or Charlie were willing to give. But at the same time, you knew that he was now playing a role in your son’s life that Charlie had needed for a long time. Even if it wasn’t quite a father yet, it was certainly as a mentor and because of that Charlie thrived even more in the way he trained and the way he interacted with those around him.

For so long you had pushed Sidney out of your life but now he was slowly oozing back into it.

Even despite all of this, you were surprised when you walked into the living room to find Charlie rewinding a national broadcast hockey game. Except he wasn’t rewatching a play, no, he was rewinding an intermission interview segment with Sidney himself. You could see the tears in his eyes and as he pressed play you immediately understood why.

“So 1000 games. Three Stanley Cups, two Conn Smythe trophies, Hart’s, Art Ross’s, Leadership Awards, MVP awards...and that’s just your NHL achievements. You’ve done pretty much everything a player could dream of doing. Is there anything you would change about it all?” The interviewer asked.

Sidney paused for a moment as if he was thinking about all of those things.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess there is definitely something I would change looking back if I could.” He admitted, his eyes going soft and a bit watery on camera. The interviewer just gave him a look pressing for more information and Sidney chewed on his lip before speaking. “I guess if there was one thing I could change, it would be having a family by my side. Having my son by my side. I see Geno and Kris with their kids sharing all of these experiences and I could have had that all along if I wasn’t so scared. If I could change one thing, it would be that.”

The interview cuts out then, a broadcaster saying that the full interview will air on the channel’s youtube page after Crosby plays game 1000 with the Pittsburgh Penguins. Charlie quickly rewinds playing the segment for a third time before he realizes you’re there and he looks up at you crying steadily.

Moving around the couch you pull Charlie into your arms hugging him tightly and letting him cry. You couldn’t imagine what Charlie was feeling, hell you barely knew how you were feeling.

For the first time in 15 years, Sidney had publicly acknowledged his son’s existence and that acknowledgment had the potential to change everything.

#sidney crosby #sidney crosby imagine #sidney crosby blurb #pittsburgh penguins #pittsburgh penguins imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #ppenguins #Anonymous

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Murder, He Wrote

Part 1

Co-written with @southerngracela

Summary: You’re sent by your asshole boss to do a review of a Celebrity Host Haunted Mansion, hosted by none-other than the arrogant, wild-eye browed actor Lucas Lee, but you’re worried you’ve missed the boat…that is, until at the last minute, an email arrives to say they can let you in on the last admission that night, which just happens to be Halloween… When you arrive, you’re actually kind of excited and intrigued…but it isn’t long until that excitement and intrigue give way to fear when you find yourself in a helpless situation.

Warnings: A creepy house, bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So this is a collaboration between myself and the wonderful @southerngracela for @jtargaryen18 ‘s Haunted House 2020 challenge…and will be a mini-series, with an as of yet undefined number of chapters.

Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

"Y/L/N," your dick editor poked his head into your office rather gruffly. "I'm gonna need that celebrity haunted mansion review on my desk by tomorrow morning. I want to run it ASAP.”

"I can't even get in, not even with a press pass, I've been trying for two weeks, Mick!” you looked at him, your mouth slightly open. You’d told him this countless times at morning briefings. You hadn't even heard back from the organizers about sneaking around the press pass issue and offering an exclusive on the joint, a small fact you kept Mick in the dark about.

"Make it happen." He said simply, before he turned and left.

You glared at his retreating form. What the fuck did he not understand about the situation? Mind you, what did he understand about anything? There was a reason everyone working for him called him Mick The Prick.

There was also a reason he was being extra prickish to you. Earlier in the spring time of the year you’d run an article on Ransom Drysdale- the stuck up, trust fund asshole who had literally gotten away with murder. He’d confessed to murdering his grandfather’s house keeper, attempting to murder his grandfather and then, in a violent showdown with 2 police officers and a private detective present, he’d attempted to murder his grandfather’s nurse, Marta. And he would have succeeded, except the knife he’d used had been a stage prop. It was like some fucked up Murder, She Wrote plot, and when you’d interviewed the real life Jessica Fletcher (in this case the rather charming PI named Benoit Blanc who’d been a character to say the least) it got even more confusing. Ransom had hired Blanc in some elaborate scheme to frame Marta for Harlan’s death to do her out of the inheritance via the Slayer Rule. That had back fired spectacularly when she had unwittingly switched back the vials of medication Drysdale had tampered with, meaning Harlan had truly committed suicide.

The article was supposed to be done showing his side of the story, a way for him to set the record straight, but the more you’d dug and spoken to people surrounding the case, the more you were absolutely convinced of his guilt, not least because he’d been acquitted on the murder and attempted murder charges on technical grounds due to his confession being, allegedly, obtained under duress and without a brief being present. The only thing they’d managed to pin on him was the arson which had burnt the Chief Medical Examiner’s office to the ground, and when his brief had successfully argued mitigating circumstances- he wasn’t of sound mind given the shock surrounding him being cut from his grandfather’s will- he’d basically ended up being released on license.

It was a joke, and that was basically what your article had said. You’d written a scathing attack on how money could basically render you untouchable by the law, highlighting the failures of the Criminal Justice System. At the time, Mick the Prick had been delighted with it, publishing it under your suggested head line “Murder, He Wrote”- ha, go figure, and copies had flown off the shelves, the article online going viral.

And then money had talked once more, and the Drysdale’s had threatened to sue for defamation. That in itself was a joke, as you knew full well his mother, Linda, was only doing it to salvage her own reputation, the same reason she’d worked so hard to find a lawyer to get him off the charges despite the fact she knew full well he was guilty as sin. Mick The Prick had attempted to throw you under the bus spectacularly when the board had come looking for blood, but as editor the buck stopped with him, and he was given a formal warning whilst you were forced to publish a retraction and offer a written apology much to your utter chagrin.

Which was why he was now making your life as hard as possible, and your Investigative Journalism skills, that you’d honed over the last decade; from high school paper, college tribune and now your current employer, over the last 10 years or so since graduation were now being focussed on covering stories about housewives who found Jesus’ face in a slice of toast, or in this case a fucking Celebrity Host Halloween Haunted House review. Whereas you had dominated the first 2 pages once upon a time, you were now lucky if you made it further up than page 11.

With a groan you banged your head on your desk. Why had you not listened to your dad and become a damned teacher instead of a journalist. Dealing with snotty nosed brats would be easier than this.

By the end of your day, you were burning what felt like the midnight oil however it wasn't very late at all. Dark had settled in but it wasn't late by time. Just before you were to log off and leave for the night, a TV dinner and pint of mint chip waiting for you in your freezer (and probably a job search too seeing as you would no doubt be fired tomorrow morning for failing on your deadline) your email pinged on your desktop. You frowned at it, wondering who could possibly be emailing you this late but then you recognized the sender.

It was the reply you'd been waiting on from the organizers from the Celebrity Host Haunted House. Clicking the email open, your eyes scanned the message. The organizer was setting you up with a private tour, TONIGHT. "9 pm," you finished reading aloud, relief flooding your entire body. It meant a long assed, sleepless night whilst you wrote your article, but it was better than the looming threat of unemployment. Plus, on the upside, as it was a charity gig the organizer had pulled out the big guns and the blurb on the email told you that it was to feature none other than Lucas Lee, a once-upon-a-time famous A-List Movie star, who was possibly just as arrogant as Hugh Ransom Drysdale, but you had to give it to him, in the films you’d seen he was actually damned good, and also pretty hot so…every cloud.

Glancing at your clock, you had just enough time to clock out and grab a quick bite at a drive thru on your way. The location was nearly an hour outside the city so you needed to get gone and fast. A quick reply telling the organizer you were on your way was sent out and you grabbed your coat, pulling it on over your sweater dress and were gone.

It took a good hour like you'd estimated and that was with stopping for a quick meal, to reach the address your GPS brought you to. It was creepy even at its first glance so you could only hope this payed off. With a quick swig of your watered down and flat fountain drink, you grabbed your bag and phone, exiting your vehicle and locking it shut. The cool night air bit at your exposed cheeks and you were glad you'd worn your coat and tights.

As you stood, gazing at the dilapidated house you shivered, as though, ice had replaced you spine. The walkway leading up to house was cracked, blood red roses grew wildly in thick batches by the gate and the moonlight cast a ghoulish glow on the house. Vines formed a twisted maze upon the side of the of the house's walls which showed the black decay of neglect, in between which splotches of original paint hinted at the house’s former prosperity. Cobwebs covered the corners of the doors, tiny black spiders threading towards their prey and you gave another shudder, as far as first impressions went, yeah, it was fitting for a Halloween Haunted House tour.

Pulling out your phone, noticing you had no reception (of course you wouldn’t, wasn’t that the cliché?) you took a few photos to use in the article and then gave a little squeak as the door creaked open on its own. Arching your eyebrow slightly, in a manner very much like the man you were here to meet, you strode forward and into the house. Immediately a musty, dank odour crept into your nose. The house was deadly silent except for the intermittent creaks and moans typically associated with a property that age. Black and brown mold dotted the ceiling of the tall hallway you stood in and the windows that framed the door on either side were covered with grime and dirt meaning the calm moonlight struggled to penetrate the darkness in thin thread rays, the main source of light being the open doorway. Sharp shadows roamed around the room and as your eyes adjusted to the dim light you noticed that there was a bright white envelope almost perched on the wooden table to the side of the hall. It was the newest thing in the room, so was obviously there for you.

You crossed over, the heels of your suede boots clicking loudly out in the silence of the hallway, and gently reached out for the envelope. A single word- Start- was written on the front in cursive, looping scrawl, very fitting for a spooky note. Another detail you committed to memory for your write up. You slid your finger into the crook of the envelope and slid it open. Inside was a small, white card, containing a message written in the same writing.

To ensure that you don’t become tomorrow’s big news, In this envelope you’ll find the first of 6 clues Of your super sleuth skills you should be proud, So make sure that you read your answers out loud. As one by one they lead to your ultimate demise. Which may or may not be a scary surprise…

Okay, now you were interested. This wasn’t just a walk through some scary assed, supposedly haunted house where Lucas Lee was no doubt set to jump out at you in some ridiculous disguise. This was a scavenger hunt, and your natural inquisitiveness was piqued. 'This could be fun', you thought as you reached for the next card that was in the envelope, reading the first clue.

I’m tall when I’m young, and I’m short when I’m old. I also give heat but, not enough to prevent cold

You pondered for a second, heat was leading you to think of a fire, and they certainly grew shorter with time, well eventually when they burnt out…but then again, the longer they went the hotter they got, and they certainly prevented the cold. Scanning the hallway for anything that might fit the description, your eyes flicked up to the ceiling which held an elaborate, but tarnished candelabra style chandelier. And then it hit you. Tall when young, short when old.

“Candle…” you spoke “The answer is Candle…”

At that the door leading to the outside slammed shut behind you, and you gave an involuntary scream as the dominant source of light was sealed off. You spun round to look at it, and then your scream turned in to a laugh as you shook your head, for an Investigative Reporter you prided yourselves on steely nerves but so far that was twice this adventure had caught you off guard.

A closer look revealed the discoloration of the water, a brownish concoction as it swirled down the plug. There was an envelope on the side of the counter by the lantern and as you crossed towards it, a movement in your peripheral made you spin round only to see a lone mouse scuttling away across the dirty wooden floor. You placed your phone down, flash-light up causing it to light up an area of the Artex plaster ceiling, and picked up the envelope, tearing it open to find your next clue

Mr Jack-o-Lantern lights the night His eerie face is shining bright The ????? that shaped him lies around And holds your next clue safe and sound

“Oh come on…” you muttered, “That’ ones obvious. Knife, the answer is knife…” You picked up your phone and shone it around the various surfaces of the kitchen and your eyes honed in on a wooden knife block containing a solitary knife. You crossed the room towards it and as you closed in on it, you noticed that the handle of the knife was an ornate silver filigree. It was no ordinary kitchen knife and as you pulled it form the block you realised it was in fact a dagger, antique by the looks of things. The blade was curved slightly, reaching a sharp point, the silver tarnished. But the more you looked at it, the more you suddenly became horribly aware that it wasn’t merely a dullness of colour at all. It was blood.

“Dramatic…” you mumbled, and with a sigh you then realised there was no clue attached to it. Was this a distraction? A decoy? You were just about to stat ransacking drawers to find the actual knife you needed, when you glanced back at the block the dagger had been held in and noticed a flash of white peeking from underneath. Picking it up and moving it aside you smiled as you saw the same cursive writing, spelling out the word three. Seeing as you might as well play along, you used the dagger to slit the envelope open, tossing it back down on the counter as you read the next clue.

Many a Child on me they may play Any time be it night or day. My surface is hard, on it you can knock I have many keys, but can’t open a single lock…

“What has keys but doesn't open a lock?" You pondered aloud. Adjusting your cross-body strap, you sigh. Then the answer came to you, "a piano."

You fell silent, your mind racing to how the hell you were going to find a piano in this decrepit and yet enormous house. Then, your ears heard it. The subtle note from deep inside the house. It was a single key. But now that wasn't your concern, no, it wasn't the mice or the bugs or even the brown water. Your heart raced at the notion that someone was in fact in the house with you.

"Alright, Lee, you were always one for a flare of the dramatics, let's see what you've got."

Finally, to your left you heard the key loud and clear. It was in that room. Steeling yourself for a possible encounter, you carefully pushed the sliding door away from its hinge. Your booted feet traipsed across the brittle carpet, dust swirling in the air in front of your face. Cobwebs adorned many of the surfaces and there were dirty white sheets covering the various pieces of furniture in the room. Apart from, that is, the large ornate grand piano that sat in the middle of the room.

The stool in front of it suddenly jolted back and tilted toward you, making you scream at the gracious invitation by an as of yet invisible host.

With slow, deliberate steps you moved towards the piano, your eyes sweeping over the mahogany surface, searching for an envelope with the next clue, but there was none to be found. The surface of the piano was thick with dust and grime, but as you scanned over it you suddenly stopped. On one of the white keys the dust was disturbed, as if it had been wiped away and you instantly realised that had to be the key that your so far elusive host must have been playing. You paused, biting at the nail on your thumb of you right hand, before you reached out with your left and tapped the key. The melodic note rang around the room, clearly, echoing in the silence and for some reason you were taken back to a part of the article you had been thinking about earlier that day, and how Detective Blanc had told you that he had ‘played a key’ during the various family interviews ‘to make my point without interruption’. It didn’t pass you by how fitting that actually was at that moment but you didn’t have much time to reflect on it, as you heard a creak and a grinding noise and you spun to your left to see a panel in the wall sliding open. It made you jump slightly, but this time you didn’t scream.

“Well, in for a penny…” you muttered, crossing towards the small hatch. It was just wide enough for you to get your hand into, but you really didn’t want to. You grabbed your torch and shone it into the hole, finding nothing but the envelope so deciding it was safe you reached in and pulled it out.

Sometimes coloured, sometimes plain sometimes frosted, sometimes stain Be you short or thin, or fat or tall, this simple invention, lets you look right through a wall

You pondered for a moment, before the answer came to you. Fairly quickly you might add. Feeling a little smug you smiled and cleared your throat.

“Window. It’s a window.”

Usually, at that point, something happened to point your attention to the place you should be looking but this time, there was nothing. Instinctively you looked out of the one on the wall by the piano, but as you stared at nothing but the darkness outside you realised that was too obvious. Just then your ears picked up a sound you couldn’t quite figure out, but it was familiar all the same. And then it came to you, it was the familiar click and clack of a skateboard, the wheels gliding over the brittle old floor and you span round in the direction it was coming from to see a window you hadn’t noticed before, this one was an ornate, stained glass window which bore some kind of flower design that faced directly out into the hall.

He passed by slower than a flash but just enough to allow you to catch only a glimpse. You audibly gasped, your breath coming in a sharp intake of fright, because until then you had been alone on this chase. But it appeared you dramatic host had finally come out to play. He was merely a shadow, bulky in frame, tall and dressed all in black as he moved past but it was enough to puzzle you. You didn’t remember Lucas being that broad, or tall. With a frown you ran into the hall to catch him but saw nothing, and heard nothing, the only thing to indicate he had been there was a faint smell of the cedar and amber of what you assumed to be cologne.

You paced quickly down the hall in the direction the figure had gone but as you passed the stairwell the light flickered on, instantly attracting your attention. You’d only briefly noticed the ornate staircase before, but with the lack of light you certainly hadn’t noticed the writing on the wall, dripping in fresh paint. Swallowing, as you mouth suddenly felt dry with fear you stepped onto the first stair, and as soon as you did you were plunged into almost complete black. Letting out a shriek as, once again, he’d managed to get the drop on you, you shook your head and reached for your phone, taking another few steps up so you were level with the next clue which you read aloud.

“Tonight is not all fright and fear, a trick or treat is waiting near, the bedroom holds a sweet surprise, there solve the clue to claim your prize.” You bit your lip and looked up at the top of the stairs, wondering when someone was going to jump out at you. Taking a deep breath, you made your way up, cringing at each creak your feet caused on the old warped wood, but it didn’t sway your determination to make it to your destination.

Halfway up, a shadow flickered at the corner of your vision at the top on the landing and you froze, your mouth going dry once more. As you stood there, shining your light into the dark you caught the same scent from moments ago lingering in the air only this time it was stronger, far more powerful and you were able to denote even more of the notes within. Alongside the amber and cedar your heightened senses picked up deep, earthy, sandalwood notes with a hint of citrus in the background. And it was familiar for reasons beyond the fact you’d smelt it down stairs. But, as you’d surmised earlier, it was a cologne. Probably one worn by a few people you knew.

Yes that was it.

“Jesus Christ Y/N what has gotten into you?” You rolled your eyes and continued up the stairs, clearly your ‘Celebrity Host’ was once more nearby.

You cautiously got to the top of the stairs and glanced around. Nothing. So turning to your left you entered the first room you found on the hall. It was empty bar a creepy looking doll that had been separated from its head which lay about a foot to the right. As you looked around the room, the wind intensified outside, the rustling of the leaves and branches became louder, as did the creaking of the house…and then you gulped, as you realised it wasn’t just the house that was creaking. In the corner of the room, the little chair had begun to rock, slowly. Blowing out a breath and shaking your head, you looked around at the thin strips of wallpaper which showed little trucks. Crayon markings scrambled upon the wall where wallpaper used to stick but other than that there was nothing in there bar some pretty good theatrics. You had to hand it to Lee, the creepy feel was fantastic and you were going to give him one hell of a write up for this. You took a while longer to take in the detail, smiling to yourself before you closed the door and headed to the one over the hallway.

This room was a little lighter thanks to a lamp which stood on a nightstand. It wasn’t bright, by any means, but it was enough so that you could clearly see the bed in the middle of the room. And there, placed by the pillows was a thin box. On unsteady legs, you shuffled slowly towards the bed, the box before you making you quiver, your insides churning. A shaky hand tilted the lid open slowly, afraid something would pounce in a sneak attack. You shut your eyes ready to protect them in case a bat or bugs flew at you and when nothing happened, you opened them slowly and inspected the boxes contents. There was no envelope this time, just copy of a newspaper. Your newspaper. And you felt your blood run cold as you recognise the bold headline across the top. Murder, He Wrote: A twisted tale of Inheritance, Crime and Exoneration "Drysdale," you whispered in realization. But now, while you were well aware of what the article meant and who it was referring to, your brain shut down processing how on earth Lucas Lee and Ransom could possibly be connected. Your breathing deepened and you moved to pick up the article, but then the lid to the box caught your eye and you froze, for on the inside of the lid was another clue, only this one was a straight forward question which was spelled out using cut-out letters from the newspaper in question.

I’m light as a feather, yet the strongest person can’t hold me for five minutes. What am I?

You froze, for the answer was simple. Breath. And that was it, you needed to get out. You started to back away from the bed, but before you had so much as made it 3 steps you collided with something hard. A forceful arm across your front pinned you to a firm and broad chest that engulfed your frame while a cloth with a distinct smell and cool moisture covered your airways.

"Surprise" The voice in your ear, calm, deep and known, was all you heard before nothing consumed you.

*****

When Y/N went limp in his arms, Ransom laid her across the bed only leaving the room to hurriedly cover his tracks, blowing out candles and removing any trace of her that had been in the house. His time as his grandfather's research assistant gave him far more experience than it should have. When he returned to the bedroom she was still out cold but light as a feather as he carried her downstairs and out the back door to the awaiting SUV, smug that his plan had gone so well.

But then, didn’t everything for him? He was Ransom Drysdale, and he was fucking untouchable.

He drove away from the scene of his new crime towards the city, driving through the dead of night, on the beltway, and continued twenty minutes outside downtown Boston before pulling into the garage of a large red cedar and quartzite home. He killed the engine and closed the garage door, pulling Y/N from the seat she was slumped in when it was clear to do so.

He couldn't be seen, he wouldn't be seen. He carried her inside the spacious home, his boots tapping heavily against the dark marble floor of the kitchen and finally the lush carpeted staircase that wound down into the basement.

This is where he laid her, in the basement, on a bed, but not just any bed, the one that would now become hers. He adjusted the lighting in the space, low enough not to disturb her, but bright enough to give the room a glow so he could finish what he'd set out to do. In the shock of the struggle in the bedroom, she’d dropped her phone and he’d made sure to smash it long before he left the haunted house, making sure there'd be no device to track her. He'd already disposed of her car while she was playing his little game, every loose end as far as he could see was tied up.

And now she was all his.

He brushed the hair away from Y/N’s face where it had fallen over her eyes. With gloved hands he manoeuvred her undone, black woollen coat off her body, leaving her in the bottle green turtle neck sweater dress and thick tights she was wearing before he tossed it over the chair in the corner of the room and then undid the zips on her brown suede knee high boots. He dropped them to the floor, kicking them towards the same corner with the equal carelessness he’d shown her coat. With a final meticulous movement he rearranged her on the bed, so he’d appear more comfortable and just before he left the room, he wrapped the cool, metallic cuff around the ankle. It locked in place with a clink and with a final glance at her still unconscious form, he turned and exited the room, the door latching shut and with the snap of the deadbolt he locked her in.

*****

Your head pounded, your nose burned and your mouth felt dry with the faintest taste of something foul lingering as you swallowed. The light was low but still your eyes ached. You tried to decipher exactly what the hell had happened to you while you got your bearings. You tried to sit up but your body felt heavy, the soft bed you now realized you were lying on was not your own. Your breathing rapidly increased as you started to move in fear but a clink caused a screech to escape your throat. You felt the weight of the cuff around your ankle and a full panic set it.

Your night flashed quickly through your glutamate and adrenaline flooded brain

You remembered getting the email from the Haunted Mansion supposedly hosted by Lucas Lee. You had arrived and were sent on what you thought was a fun and exhilarating maze littered with clues and riddles and then you remembered the last piece of the puzzle. You gasped as you remembered how his breath felt hot on your skin and how his voice registered in your mind.

"Drysdale," you repeated the last word you had spoken in a shaky, frightful voice. "No."

Rage and fear collided in your chest as you screamed out the only thing you could think of, "HELP!" A strangled sound left your chest followed by another cry out for help, "Please, someone, HELP!"

The door to your room, now coming into focus around you, flew open and there he stood, smug smirk, raging ocean blue eyes, hair neatly in place, dismantling frame clothed in a black sweater and dark denim, heavy footfalls sounding against the thick carpet under his feet.

"Nice to see someone's awake," Ransom deadpanned.

You stared for a brief moment and screamed for help again, louder, and louder, and louder until you felt your voice crack and strain, your cords burning as the sound shattered away.

"Are you done?" He cocked his head to the side and folded his arms across his chest as he stood firm and tall in front of the bed.

"What the hell are you doing? Why am I here?" It hurt to speak but you had to ask.

“Because I want you here, Sweetheart.”

"I...I'm not, don't call me that," you spat defiantly as he moved closer, taking you in, his predatory eyes moving over your body. This was it, you were going to die all because some trust fund prick was a hurt baby about an article (that you forcibly apologized for) revealing the sick and sadistic truth about him, his family, money and the justice system.

"Are you gonna kill me?” You watched him carefully as he crossed the room towards you, trying to keep your voice calm so as not to betray the utter fear that was coursing through your veins at the fact you were trapped, fuck knows where, shackled to a bed with a murderer being your captor. “That's what this is about, right? My apology wasn't enough?"

"Your apology was forced bullshit.” He responded, his voice carried a hint of amusement, because of course, this was all a game to him. “You smeared my name, dragged my reputation though the mud and you expected an apology like that, half assed and full of more crap than your original hatchet piece, to be enough?" He was standing damn near over you now, a hand moving up your leg that was held by the cuff, your body frozen in a confused silent argument of fight or flight.

"You... Killed... Him." You grit out through clenched teeth, and his hand was on your throat before you finished your breath, squeezing just enough to make a point.

"No. I. Didn't." He lied and you had to hand it to him, a lesser person might have bought the garbage he was talking, because he was good at it. Lying must have been enough of a second nature for him that he actually believed everything he said himself. But then again, it wasn't actually a lie was it? Sure, he'd planned on indirectly killing Harlan and that plan had backfired and Harlan had actually slit his own throat. So at most he was indirectly responsible for his death, but none of that had stuck with the prosecution and so now here he was, a free man.

A struggled chuckle came from your tightened throat, "Jesus Christ, you actually believe your own bull shit don't you?"

"You've got a fucking mouth on you," he breathed as his body loomed ominously over the bed and your frame, tiny in comparison to his.

You swallowed, feeling the hard lump strain to pass his grip, "Not really, you just don't like hearing the truth."

His eyes bored into yours and you struggled for breath as his hand constricted around your neck whilst he squeezed a little harder "Oh shut up Y/N."

"Or what, Hugh?" You croaked.

A little flash of anger tore through his ocean blue eyes like lightning in a storm. His eyes bored into yours as you fought to swallow.

"Or I'll shut you up myself."

"Try me, you son of a...." You didn't expect his lips to cover yours but they did. Unexpectedly warm and soft, despite the painfully harsh kiss. You managed to pull away but his hand still gripped at your throat and you felt the fear constricting your chest. But you were damned if you were going to show him a shred of weakness.

“You’re an asshole, Hugh…” It was all you had, the only thing you could use in your arsenal given your situation. You still had your voice. And you’d noticed that for whatever reason he appeared to hate that name.

“Don’t... fucking call me that!” his voice rose to a loud, angry instruction, apoplectic rage seeping from him to you, and it was almost stifling.

“Or what? You'll kill me?” your voice rose in both volume and pitch as your desperation began to show. “We both know you're gonna do that once you've fulfilled whatever sick, twisted little fantasy this is. What are you waiting for, Hugh? Huh?”

Ransom scoffed, "Kill you, no, see I'm gonna teach you a lesson. One about how money and status get you anything you want.”

You frowned, as you looked into his icy blue eyes, utterly confused “Anything you want? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You'll see Princess” was the sole explanation you got as he knelt between your legs.

You stayed stock still as large and surprisingly gentle hands trailed your curves up the outside of your thighs to your hips. As he reached the hem of your sweater dress he paused as you wrapped your hands around his wrists.

"Don't" you squeezed, attempting to stop his wrists and close your legs.

“This will be much easier if you just play-along, sweetheart” he muttered as he pressed his lips to your neck. You let go of his wrists and raised your hands, laying them over the wool of his cable knit, palms flat against the plain of muscle as you attempted to push him off.

“I said no.” you tried to keep your voice stern, despite the fact you were fighting back the fear and sadness at the realization of his task was now at hand. His large hands smoothed over your dress, cupping your breasts and he let out a moan as you bit back the bile in your throat that was threatening to spill from your mouth. You pushed harder trying to force him off of you but it was of no use, his broad frame caged you in, engulfing you under him.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.” He ground out, his lips inches from your ear as he nipped at your skin. He was impressively strong and balanced, his weight even through his body as he kept his knees between your legs, a hand against your breast and the other stroking your sides and up your thigh. All the while, his lips sucked at your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point as you turned your head away, tears filling your eyes

"Please, stop," you managed. "Hugh, stop!"

“I told you not to call me that.” He growled against your skin and pulled back, his eyes blazing as they locked on to yours. In sheer desperation, you managed to wrench a free hand from between you and gave him a slap, nails biting at his skin. Instantly you knew you’d pissed him off. His nostrils flared, his jaw set and as his eyes filled with fire and rage.

And you knew then, you were in for it.

“Bitch…” he snarled as he raised his left hand to his face where you had struck him, and then both his hands grabbed yours, yanking your arms up, pinning them above your head. You bucked upwards, violently in an attempt to shake him off, but it was futile. He was far too strong. His grip on your wrists grew tighter and despite yourself you let out a small whimper of fear.

In one hand he had the ability to cuff both of your wrists and he did so while his other grabbed at your dress, shoving it further up your body, fingers curling over the waist of your tights and panties, a handful of the material fisted in his palm. They wouldn't slide down quick enough and you felt your body lift away from the mattress slightly as he ripped away the material, the snap burning your skin. You fought, boy did you fight. You had no control of your hands or arms as he had them easily pinned, but your legs and the rest of your body gave as good as they could. You thrashed from side to side all the time screaming your objections. You drew your knees up to your chest in an attempt to buck him off. You screamed protests, threw every insult you had at him, but it was no use. He was simply too strong.

He didn't even bother with his belt or button, he just unzipped the flies on his jeans, pulled his solid cock free and slid in. You were wetter than you expected to be, but it still burned with friction and ached from the thick stretch against your tight walls. It hurt, definitely hurt.

"You know you want this. I know you want this." He rasped as he pulled out before thrusting back in, his face twisted in a look that was halfway between being smug and satisfied. Just looking at him made you feel sick but for some reason you were unable to look away as he continued his slow assault, before he picked up the pace slightly, his groans of satisfaction filling the room as he bottomed out, balls deep and it was at that point you closed your eyes and tried to block out what he was doing to you. But try as you might to remain mentally detached from the situation, your body was anything but. And the more he moved in and out of you, the more you could feel your physical reactions. You were powerless to stop them and the heat between your legs and in between your belly was spiking with each thrust into you.

It felt good. And you knew it shouldn’t. So you fought it, but eventually, you couldn't fight it anymore, not with the way his thick cock filled you, velvety smooth skin sliding in and out of your defiant core. You didn't want to cum, but your body told your brain it was going to and Ransom nearly puffed his chest as he fucked you into your body's submission.

"You're gonna fucking cum, aren't you, Sweetheart? I can feel it," he ground out, chasing his own release. You remained silent, breathing heavily as your insides coiled and tightened. "Fucking tight ass pussy," he gritted. You refused to cry out, not wanting to give him anything you were able not to, and it took everything you had to remain silent. In desperation, to quell the cry that was rising from your throat, you bit your tongue, tasting the coppery taste of blood in your mouth as you came hard around his cock.

“Fuck, yeah…see…” Ransom’s hips began to move faster, and then with a sudden movement he pulled out of you, making you wince involuntarily at the sting. He shot his load all over your thighs, a growl bubbling from his throat, the warmth of his release trickling down your leg made you feel even more dirty than you already did.

“Not so fucking smart are we now, huh, miss Investigative Reporter…” his snap was snide, and childish, but you knew he couldn’t help himself. Your head remained defiantly in its position on the pillow, turned to the right, eyes focussed on a spot on the wall. “Look at me, bitch.”

When you didn’t do as he asked, he grabbed your chin bruisingly, making you wince as he pulled your face round so he could see you. You knew he would be able to see the tears on your face, and you hated that. Hated that he would see how much he’d hurt you, scared you even,

His hand let go of your face and you stared at him, swallowing, trying to gather your voice in your painfully dry throat.

"That's all you got? You're a fucking child, Drysdale. It's why you’re doing this." You said, your voice trembling and croaking from the fear and exertion of what he had just put you through and you shook your head. “You’re a fucking man child with mommy and daddy issues. A spoilt, little whiney brat who can’t bear to be told no.”

That struck a nerve, you could tell, as his jaw clenched tight and his fists clenched around the sheets by your side to the point they were shaking. He grabbed your chin once more with his right hand and pinned your face still, forcing your eyes to look back at his

“You'll be begging me to accept your apology.” He snarled, his face contorted in rage “You'll see who the whiney child is soon enough. I promise Princess, it's not me”

As you looked at him, you felt your anger starting to simmer. This fucking ass hole had just raped you, and he had the gall to be saying you were going to tell him that you were sorry. No chance in hell. You knew you were screwed, literally and figuratively. Whilst he had you captive behind a bolted door, shackled to a bed you had nowhere to go, he knew that you knew that too and you could see it in his face as a smug smirk flickered on his lips. Well fuck this, if you were going down it was with a fight. With a sudden movement, that caught him off guard you moved your head slightly as much as you could in his painful grip, and spat right in his face.

Ransom blinked, his anger morphing to shock, then back to fury once more as he released your face and with a flash of his hand he back handed you straight across the face. The blow to your right cheek snapped your head to the left, sucking the breath from your lungs and leaving you a little dazed.

“Fuck you.” He sneered as he rose to his feet, wiping his face. Silently he rearranged his pants, tucking his now soft cock back inside them, and swept from the room, locking the door behind him.

***** Ransom stormed up the steps to the kitchen of the house, slamming the top door behind him and bolting that one shut too. He was furious that little bitch had scratched him and no doubt marked his face. He strode over the marble tiles of the room and walked into the large hallway and across into the den. He made his way straight to the bar, poured himself a healthy measure of good scotch, slopping a little on the dark wooden counter, before he glanced up at the large mirrored surface of the bar behind the shelves.

He could make out three vivid red lines down his left cheek where she’d dug her nails into his flesh and his jaw clenched. His hair was out of place, his cheeks flushed and his normally cold eyes were blazing with anger. But as he stood there staring at his dishevelled reflection, he knew it wasn’t the fact she’d scratched or spat at him that was pissing him off so much. It was the fact she had persistently voiced a name he despised, one that was used to control those lower than him in his every-day life. One reserved for The Help, for outsiders. It reminded him of his family, of his mother and father, the two people in his life who should have loved him unconditionally but instead had him out of ‘duty’ and had taken every opportunity to pass him off into the care of others they could. It reminded him of Walt persistently telling him he was a no-one, that he would amount to nothing over than a trust-fund baby.

It reminded him of Harlan. The one person in that entire fucked up patriarchy that had shown him an ounce of care. But who had screwed him over in the end.

The anger that had been simmering inside him boiled over, the blood pumped into his ear and with an angry yell and an almost involuntary action Ransom hurled the glass tumbler straight at the wall where it smashed against the tasteful silver and white wallpaper, the 25 year old single malt trickling down the wall…just like the tears and trickled down Y/N’s cheeks as he’d forced her to look at him whilst he took what was his.

As she’d glared up at him he’d noticed a fierceness in her eyes that he was surprised to find had unnerved him a little, because she clearly wasn’t going to be as easy to break as he thought.

“Fuck it.” He mumbled to himself, grabbing the bottle from the bar before he turned and left the room, taking a large swig as he went, the burn in his throat going someway to settling his nerves.

This would work out, because he was Ransom fucking Drysdale, a man who always got what he wanted in the end, and she was going to be no exception.

**** Part 2

#murder he wrote #j's haunted house 2020 #dark ransom #dark ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale #reader insert #chris evans #chris evans characters

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krethes · 2 years

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Oh I am very interested in nr 22, because you very much have your own writing style.

Buckle up, it's a bumpy road, lol!

My writing process is probably going to make some people pull their hair out or scream, but it works!

If I'm not working from a specific prompt for a fest, I almost always start with a line of dialogue. The dialogue usually comes to me like at really inconvenient parts of the day, so I have to write it down in my Jot app and hope I remember the vibe when I start to work with it. I really like starting fics or scenes with dialogue. It grabs me as a reader, and I think it helps set the tone in a piece. A real challenge would be for me to write a fic over 2k without any dialogue and in a "reliable narrator" voice.

So I'll build a bit from the dialogue and decide where I'm going with it. Lines, for instance, I thought about, "We're too old for morning sex," which ofc screamed "Remus" to me, so I knew who was saying it and I knew I wanted Sirius to react because he's Extra and it would be more entertaining. ;)

Unreliable narrators are where I live. I love it. Let me have misunderstandings and stream of consciousnesses and all that good stuff, keep the reader guessing. They don't get to know anything my character doesn't know! :D

Someone asked me if I could share my writing playlist and I was so embarrassed at myself because...I will listen to one song on loop for as long as it takes to write, even if it's not a "song fic". If I listen to different ones, I lose my focus and my ADHD brain loves to hyperfixate on something. 10-hour loops make brain go mmmm.

Here's a hair-pulling part: I don't pick a tense until about 75% of the way in. 😬 I naturally drift to present tense when I start writing, but sometimes I'll shift to past. I always figure it out and fix it before I publish, but it's sort of that chaotic disaster human energy i exist with lol.

Another potential scream: I almost never draft. I just...start writing. I'll have my dialogue, my POV, and an end goal (normally). And I'll just...write. I am fortunate to be a very fast typist and a very quick thinker, so I can keep up with my thoughts while I write. I'll just go and go and go until either a) I need to look up a word, b) I need to research or verify something, or c) I'm done. Sometimes I don't have the time to finish actually writing, and THEN I'll do little action points or more dialogue in chunks like:

//Remus goes to the market and picks up vegetables

//Sirius makes a joke about the vegetables, make it good krethes

//they end up having a food fight even though they're 50, we love to see

(yes, I talk to myself in the blurbs lol)

Once I get the content down, I'll reread. I tweak dialogue constantly to make it punchy and impactful while still sounding natural to the character. Banter is my favorite thing to write, and I want it to FEEL flirty and fun. I fix my tenses, usually have to change "thing" to "thin", "Remorse" to "Remus", and correct my spelling of courtesy because really...it's a stupid fucking word, and give it another read through. I try to read my work at least 3 times with 1 time out loud or mouthing silently to make sure I haven't missed anything.

I...almost never get a beta. 👀 I'm impatient! When my writing's done, I want to post it immediately! I've used a beta on Silver for Monsters mostly for "does this make sense to someone outside the Witcher fandom" and for fests that require one. I find that I frustrate betas who aren't used to my writing style. I abuse the ever loving shit out of a comma and the em dash, and I don't know the meaning of "run-on sentence". I've accepted this about myself, but it drives some betas up the wall. Whoops!

I tried to correct myself and write in shorter, grammatically sound sentences but...it felt stifling. I wasn't able to express the emotions of my character properly and everything felt so abrupt. Someone once called my Explicit fics "poetic smut" and I think it's one of my favorite comments about my writing style as a whole.

I feel like I could continue forever, and I'm happy to, but this is getting long! Feel free to ask me a specific question or six if you have them, I love talking about my writing. ❤️

Thank you!

#asks for krethes #how do i write #chaos demon #disaster bi #time to hyperfixate #nice anons

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farfromharry · 3 years

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Can you write a prince!tom imagine about reader being a maid in the palace and prince tom, who had snuck out, tries to climb up to his room, but accidentally ends up in reader's room while she is alseep as his window is locked, so he spends the night in her room on the floor and she wakes up and sees him shirtless on the floor, and as he is seen walking out of her room early in morning and everyone thinks she slept with him, and he invites her to his ball that his parents hosted and he gets her an extravagant dress made and as they dance she asks him why is doing this and he teasingly asks her " is it every girl's dream to be dancing with the prince while wearing an expensive dress?"

summary: the day the prince falls into a room is a the day the young maid thinks she’ll be unable to forget

prince!tom x reader

w/c 1.8k

blurb week!

a/n - i got a little bit carried away :)

tom had snuck out of the castle plenty of times, that was one of the downsides to being the prince, he could never go out and go where he wanted, so he had to do it secretly.

he wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong this time. there were guards outside of his main window, the one he had climbed out of only a few hours earlier, so he had to find another way into the castle without being detected.

the only other open and accessible window he could find was a little way down, and with a bit of poor judgement, he assumed that it was also attached to his room.

he cursed himself as soon as he hit the cold stone floor of the room, noticing that this was most definitely not his chambers.

he rose from the ground, rubbing the sore spot on his arm where he’d landed on the floor. that’s when he noticed you in the small bed.

he didn’t recognise you at all, but from the size of the room and the lack of decoration and warmth, led him to believe you must’ve been one of the maids.

he knew he should leave, and stop staring, but right now he was captivated by you. he thought you were absolutely gorgeous and he made a mental note to look for you in the castle more often.

in his defense, he did try and leave the room, but he noticed the swarm of guards outside and had to decide against it. he promised himself that he’d be up and out of your room before you even knew he’d ever been there.

so, he made himself comfortable on the floor, using his jacket as a pillow and stealing a folded blanket he found on a random chair to keep him warm.

tom was incredibly uncomfortable all night. anyone would be while laying on a stone floor in a random room, when he could be in his large comfy bed.

a shrill scream woke him up from his restless sleep, the male shooting up from his spot and noticing you, the girl who’s room he had snuck into. he was quick to place his hand over your mouth, silencing you from making any other noise that could alert someone in the castle.

“i need you to stay quiet,” he said, hesitantly removing his hand from your mouth. your eyes were still wide as you stared at him, your hands shaking at the idea of the prince being in your room.

“why are you- what are you-“ you couldn’t get your words out quick enough, tom taking pity on the scare he’d given you.

“i climbed into the wrong window last night, and i couldn’t get out,” he explained. you nodded, slowing your breaths until your heart was back beating at a regular pace.

only in the silence did you realise he was shirtless, his toned abdomen on full display for you to gawk at.

“i- um,” he laughed at your stuttering, noticing your eyes locked on his body.

“what’s your name, i haven’t seen you around here before.”

you gulped, finally letting your eyes drift back to his, seeing an amused twinge.

“i’m y/n.”

you explained to tom that your role in the castle was simply a maid, but you spent most of your time down in the kitchen with the older ladies. when he asked why he didn’t get an answer he wanted, but rather an upsetting one.

“they’re older, so they want to protect me from the guards’ punishments.”

tom’s heart sank, a frown etching its way onto his face. he was never aware of the way the guards would treat the staff, hoping that his own personal ones would never, unless they wanted a scolding.

“i’m so sorry, i didn’t know they did that.” you shrugged, playing with a loose thread on your nightgown. you were grateful that the night before you’d chosen a more modest one, just so you didn’t have another reason to be nervous in front of the handsome prince.

“you should go,” you said, not missing the slight look of offense that crossed his face. “we were told the king and your family had a trip today, at 10?”

tom’s eyes widened, a quiet curse mumbled under his breath.

“i’m sorry again, for falling into your room,” he reiterated, gathering his discarded clothes into a pile in his arms.

“it’s okay,” you giggled, opening the door for him because of his full hands.

“i’ll see you soon, y/n,” he pressed a parting kiss to your cheek, noting the slight tint of red that arose.

the princes attempts at being sneaky had failed once again, after being spotted sneaking out of your room, clothes in hand, by one of his beat soldiers.

the blonde man snickered, raising his eyebrows at the young prince, who simply punched him in the arm and made his journey back to his room.

tom did as he said he would, he searched for you in the castle more and more often. the two of you were now having more frequent conversations, in the breaks between you both working.

due to your conversation a few days ago, tom knew exactly where to look for you when he wanted to ask something.

there were murmurs and squeals from the maids just slightly older than you when tom entered the kitchen, strutting right over to your side.

“hi,” he greeted, stopping in place next to you. you and a few of the cooks furrowed their eyebrows, the royals almost never stepped foot in the kitchen.

“your highness,” you responded, politely tilting your skirt in acknowledgment, “what are you doing in here?”

he took your hand from where it rested on the table, running his thumb over your knuckles and flashing you a smile.

“come to my parents' ball with me,” he said. your eyes widened at how it sounded like a demand. he realised how it sounded and shook his head. “you don’t have to, i-“

he laughed at himself, finding it hard to believe he was getting nervous while talking to a girl.

“please will you come to the ball with me, as my date?” you heard a few synchronized gasps from the older women in the room. heart beginning to race in your chest.

you grasped his hand, and much to the women’s dismay, you dragged him out of the room and into a quieter area, where you could be sure no one was listening in.

“are you serious?” you asked, trying to find out if he was joking.

he pouted, squeezing your hand gently. “i’m completely serious, i want you to come with me.”

a smile broke out onto your face, making the prince’s heart beat slightly faster.

“okay, i’d be honoured.”

the next few days were filled with unexpected chaos. feeling as though he had to get you the most extravagant dress he could pay for, tom had you getting measured by the queen’s seamstress.

the dress was made in no time, tom standing right by your side as you were given the chance to admire it on your body for the first time.

“what do you think?” you asked, motioning to the dress with your arms. tom was in awe. you took his silence as a negative, laughing painfully and trying to ignore the way the dress made you feel.

“you don’t like it, i-it’s okay, neither do i-“ you rambled.

“you look incredible, you’re so beautiful y/n,” he gushed. your eyes widened and your body grew hot. nerves flooded your body and you suddenly became a rambling, but shy mess. tom of course found it adorable.

“this is the one, mary,” he confirmed, noticing your small smile when you looked at the flowy material in the mirror. tom shuffled over to you, placing his hands on your waist and his chin on your shoulder, looking at you through the mirror.

“you’re going to be the prettiest lady at the ball.” he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, your heart fluttering as you made eye contact.

“thank you, your highness.” he shook his head, rolling his eyes.

“you don’t have to call me that, how many times do i need to tell you?” he teased, poking your stomach to tickle you.

“force of habit,” you defended. you didn’t even notice the adoring looks that mary was sending your way, watching how the prince interacted with you. she’d never seen him this happy since he was a small boy, and she was glad he’d found his happiness again.

the ball felt like it was months away, but it came all too soon, and now here you were, decked out in a gorgeous, expensive, gown, looking like the rest of the royalty in the room.

“care to dance, m’lady?” you giggled at tom’s formalities, but nevertheless nodded, taking his outstretched hand and letting him guide you into the correct position for the dance.

you and tom had grown much closer since the time he fell into your room accidentally, finding more and more time to spend with each other. however, as of late you’d been getting more and more insecure. wondering why someone with tom’s status would want to spend time with someone of yours.

“your hig-“ tom gave her a look, warning her about finishing his title, something he’d been doing for weeks with you. “sorry, tom, why are you doing this?” his brow furrowed, cocking his head in confusion.

“isn’t it every girl's dream to be dancing with the prince while wearing an expensive dress?” he teased. except you didn’t pick up on the teasing tone, instead believing that he was just being cocky. he noticed your face fall and he was quick to apologise. “i was kidding, i’m really not that full of myself.”

guilt instantly took over and you frowned, looking into his eyes to try and decipher any emotion you could, scared you’d hurt his feelings.

“i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have-“ he smiled, pulling you impossibly closer to him while you danced.

“it’s okay,” he promised. “i really like you, that’s why i’ve been around so much.”

you sighed, a small smile creeping onto your face. leaning forward, you rested your forehead against his, the close proximity making you both grin.

“what about your parents?” you asked. you had a rough idea on the king and queens opinion on the ‘servants.’ the queen being more lenient than the king.

“i don’t care what they think, if my mother knows i’m happy with you, she won’t interfere.”

he lifted his hand from yours, coming to stroke your cheekbone with his thumb. “ignore my title, and let’s just try this.”

he didn’t let your silence scare him, but he let you have a chance to think it through.

“okay, my prince.” he rolled his eyes, ignoring the prying eyes of the towns people, kissing you softly.

“just think, all of this because i fell into your room.”

you giggled, pecking his lips again. “feel free to do it again, anytime.”

tom holland taglist - @seutarose @lmaotshollandd @photoshopart15 @hopelessly-harry @drie-the-derp @bvttercupbby @call-me-baby-gir1 @fallinfortom @iwearheadphones @kerrswriting @geminiparkers @blossomparkers @siriuslyslyslytherin @musicalkeys @itstaskeen @icyhollands @tpwk-grande @zspideyy @chrisosterfield @starkweasley @givebuckyhisplumsnow @lowkey-holland @hollandcrush @wizkiddx @sannie-san-shine @sonnydoesrandomshit @hopeless-romantic-baby @dummiesshort

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland imagines #tom holland oneshot #prince!tom

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Murder, He Wrote

Co-written with @southerngracela

Part 1

Warnings: A creepy house, bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Series Masterlist.

"Y/L/N," your dick editor poked his head into your office rather gruffly. "I'm gonna need that celebrity haunted mansion review on my desk by tomorrow morning. I want to run it ASAP.”

"Make it happen." He said simply, before he turned and left.

With a groan you banged your head on your desk. Why had you not listened to your dad and become a damned teacher instead of a journalist. Dealing with snotty nosed brats would be easier than this.

I’m tall when I’m young, and I’m short when I’m old. I also give heat but not enough to prevent cold

“Candle…” you spoke “The answer is Candle…”

Turning back round, you then spotted that the door at the end of the hall was open, and you could clearly make out a Jack-o-Lantern looking at you, the candle inside flickering. Its face was creepy, really creepy. The nose and eyes were harsh triangles and the grotesque, twisted smile it sported was constructed of sharp, jagged teeth. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone. You may have had no service, but the flashlight was working. Keeping the light held in front of you so you could watch your step on the cracked tiles of the hall, you made your way towards the lantern and found yourself in a large, run down kitchen. The lantern and your flash-light provided the only light in the room as the windows were all overshadowed by gnarly trees, their branches every so often scratching the glass as they swayed slightly in the wind outside. The only other sound to be heard was the drip, drip of the faucet in the porcelain Belfast sink. A closer look revealed the discoloration of the water, a brownish concoction as it swirled down the plug. There was an envelope on the side of the counter by the lantern and as you crossed towards it, a movement in your peripheral made you spin round only to see a lone mouse scuttling away across the dirty wooden floor. You placed your phone down, flash-light up causing it to light up an area of the Artex plaster ceiling, and picked up the envelope, tearing it open to find your next clue

Mr Jack-o-Lantern lights the night His eerie face is shining bright The ????? that shaped him lies around And holds your next clue safe and sound

Many a Child on me they may play Any time be it night or day. My surface is hard, on it you can knock I have many keys, but can’t open a single lock…

“What has keys but doesn't open a lock?" You pondered aloud. Adjusting your cross-body strap, you sigh. Then the answer came to you, "a piano."

"Alright, Lee, you were always one for a flare of the dramatics, let's see what you've got."

Step by step you followed the note that chimed every few steps and you found yourself beginning to wonder if it was a recording or if someone were really playing it, timing their play with the sound of your boots over the rotting floor. You wound your way through the narrow hall, ancient wall paper peeling from its tack, mastick and plaster falling away to reveal studs in places. Finally, to your left you heard the key loud and clear. It was in that room. Steeling yourself for a possible encounter, you carefully pushed the sliding door away from its hinge. Your booted feet traipsed across the brittle carpet, dust swirling in the air in front of your face. Cobwebs adorned many of the surfaces and there were dirty white sheets covering the various pieces of furniture in the room. Apart from, that is, the large ornate grand piano that sat in the middle of the room. The stool in front of it suddenly jolted back and tilted toward you, making you scream at the gracious invitation by an as of yet invisible host.

“Get a grip Y/N” you mumbled to yourself. You were surprised to find just how much this place was starting to set your nerves on edge. You took a deep breath, the pounding of blood in your ears began to quiet and you took a look around the room. There was no one in there with you, you were alone. With slow, deliberate steps you moved towards the piano, your eyes sweeping over the mahogany surface, searching for an envelope with the next clue, but there was none to be found. The surface of the piano was thick with dust and grime, but as you scanned over it you suddenly stopped. On one of the white keys the dust was disturbed, as if it had been wiped away and you instantly realised that had to be the key that your so far elusive host must have been playing. You paused, biting at the nail on your thumb of you right hand, before you reached out with your left and tapped the key. The melodic note rang around the room, clearly, echoing in the silence and for some reason you were taken back to a part of the article you had been thinking about earlier that day, and how Detective Blanc had told you that he had ‘played a key’ during the various family interviews ‘to make my point without interruption’. It didn’t pass you by how fitting that actually was at that moment but you didn’t have much time to reflect on it, as you heard a creak and a grinding noise and you spun to your left to see a panel in the wall sliding open. It made you jump slightly, but this time you didn’t scream.

Not for the first time, you had to admire the effort Lucas was going to here. It was clear he had a flare for the dramatic, anyone could see that from his films and interviews but this was pretty damned good. It was making you wonder how he was doing it. Was he somewhere watching, pressing buttons to enact the various parts of his show? Instinctively you glanced up, looking for a camera or something you were being monitored by but you found no evidence of anything. “Well, in for a penny…” you muttered, crossing towards the small hatch. It was just wide enough for you to get your hand into, but you really didn’t want to. You grabbed your torch and shone it into the hole, finding nothing but the envelope so deciding it was safe you reached in and pulled it out.

Sometimes coloured, sometimes plain sometimes frosted, sometimes stain Be you short or thin, or fat or tall, this simple invention, lets you look right through a wall

You pondered for a moment, before the answer came to you. Fairly quickly you might add. Feeling a little smug you smiled and cleared your throat “Window. It’s a window.”

“Tonight is not all fright and fear, a trick or treat is waiting near, the bedroom holds a sweet surprise, there solve the clue to claim your prize” you bit your lip and looked up at the top of the stairs, wondering when someone was going to jump out at you. Taking a deep breath, you made your way up, cringing at each creak your feet caused on the old warped wood, but it didn’t sway your determination to make it to your destination. Halfway up, a shadow flickered at the corner of your vision at the top on the landing and you froze, your mouth going dry once more. As you stood there, shining your light into the dark you caught the same scent from moments ago lingering in the air only this time it was stronger, far more powerful and you were able to denote even more of the notes within. Aalongside the amber and cedar your heightened senses picked up deep, earthy, sandalwood notes with a hint of citrus in the background. And it was familiar for reasons beyond the fact you’d smelt it down stairs. But, as you’d surmised earlier, it was a cologne. Probably one worn by a few people you knew.

Yes that was it.

“Jesus Christ Y/N what has gotten into you?” You rolled your eyes and continued up the stairs, clearly your ‘Celebrity Host’ was once more nearby. You cautiously got to the top of the stairs and glanced around. Nothing. So turning to your left you entered the first room you found on the hall. It was empty bar a creepy looking doll that had been separated from its head which lay about a foot to the right. As you looked around the room, the wind intensified outside, the rustling of the leaves and branches became louder, as did the creaking of the house…and then you gulped, as you realised it wasn’t just the house that was creaking. In the corner of the room, the little chair had begun to rock, slowly. Blowing out a breath and shaking your head, you looked around at the thin strips of wallpaper which showed little trucks. Crayon markings scrambled upon the wall where wallpaper used to stick but other than that there was nothing in there bar some pretty good theatrics. You had to hand it to Lee, the creepy feel was fantastic and you were going to give him one hell of a write up for this. You took a while longer to take in the detail, smiling to yourself before you closed the door and headed to the one over the hallway.

I’m light as a feather, yet the strongest person can’t hold me for five minutes. What am I?

You froze, for the answer was simple. Breath.

And that was it, you needed to get out. You started to back away from the bed, but before you had so much as made it 3 steps you collided with something hard. A forceful arm across your front pinned you to a firm and broad chest that engulfed your frame while a cloth with a distinct smell and cool moisture covered your airways.

"Surprise" The voice in your ear, calm, deep and known, was all you heard before nothing consumed you.

*****

But then, didn’t everything for him? He was Ransom Drysdale, and he was fucking untouchable.

And now she was all his.

*****

Your night flashed quickly through your glutamate and adrenaline flooded brain

"Drysdale," you repeated the last word you had spoken in a shaky, frightful voice. "No."

Rage and fear collided in your chest as you screamed out the only thing you could think of, "HELP!" A strangled sound left your chest followed by another cry out for help, "Please, someone, HELP!"

"Nice to see someone's awake," Ransom deadpanned.

You stared for a brief moment and screamed for help again, louder, and louder, and louder until you felt your voice crack and strain, your cords burning as the sound shattered away.

"Are you done?" He cocked his head to the side and folded his arms across his chest as he stood firm and tall in front of the bed.

"What the hell are you doing? Why am I here?" It hurt to speak but you had to ask.

“Because I want you here, Sweetheart.”

"You... Killed... Him." You grit out through clenched teeth, and his hand was on your throat before you finished your breath, squeezing just enough to make a point.

A struggled chuckle came from your tightened throat, "Jesus Christ, you actually believe your own bull shit don't you?"

"You've got a fucking mouth on you," he breathed as his body loomed ominously over the bed and your frame, tiny in comparison to his.

You swallowed, feeling the hard lump strain to pass his grip, "Not really, you just don't like hearing the truth."

His eyes bored into yours and you struggled for breath as his hand constricted around your neck whilst he squeezed a little harder "Oh shut up Y/N."

"Or what, Hugh?" You croaked.

A little flash of anger tore through his ocean blue eyes like lightning in a storm. His eyes bored into yours as you fought to swallow.

"Or I'll shut you up myself."

“Don’t... fucking call me that!” his voice rose to a loud, angry instruction, apoplectic rage seeping from him to you, and it was almost stifling.

Ransom scoffed, "Kill you, no, see I'm gonna teach you a lesson. One about how money and status get you anything you want.”

You frowned, as you looked into his icy blue eyes, utterly confused “Anything you want? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You'll see Princess” was the sole explanation you got as he knelt between your legs.

"Don't" you squeezed, attempting to stop his wrists and close your legs.

“I said no.” you tried to keep your voice stern, despite the fact you were fighting back the fear and sadness at the realization of his task was now at hand.

His large hands smoothed over your dress, cupping your breasts and he let out a moan as you bit back the bile in your throat that was threatening to spill from your mouth. You pushed harder trying to force him off of you but it was of no use, his broad frame caged you in, engulfing you under him.

"Please, stop," you managed. "Hugh, stop!"

And you knew then, you were in for it.

"You're gonna fucking cum, aren't you Princess? I can feel it," he ground out, chasing his own release. You remained silent, breathing heavily as your insides coiled and tightened. "Fucking tight ass pussy," he gritted. You refused to cry out, not wanting to give him anything you were able not to, and it took everything you had to remain silent. In desperation, to quell the cry that was rising from your throat, you bit your tongue, tasting the coppery taste of blood in your mouth as you came hard around his cock.

His hand let go of your face and you stared at him, swallowing, trying to gather your voice in your painfully dry throat.

“You'll be begging me to accept your apology.” He snarled, his face contorted in rage “You'll see who the whiney child is soon enough. I promise Princess, it's not me”

“Fuck you.” He sneered as he rose to his feet, wiping his face. Silently he rearranged his pants, tucking his now soft cock back inside them, and swept from the room, locking the door behind him.

He could make out 3 vivid red lines down his left cheek where she’d dug her nails into his flesh and his jaw clenched. His hair was out of place, his cheeks flushed and his normally cold eyes were blazing with anger. But as he stood there staring at his dishevelled reflection, he knew it wasn’t the fact she’d scratched or spat at him that was pissing him off so much. It was the fact she had persistently voiced a name he despised, one that was used to control those lower than him in his every-day life. One reserved for The Help, for outsiders. It reminded him of his family, of his mother and father, the two people in his life who should have loved him unconditionally but instead had him out of ‘duty’ and had taken every opportunity to pass him off into the care of others they could. It reminded him of Walt persistently telling him he was a no-one, that he would amount to nothing over than a trust-fund baby.

It reminded him of Harlan. The one person in that entire fucked up patriarchy that had shown him an ounce of care. But who had screwed him over in the end. The anger that had been simmering inside him boiled over, the blood pumped into his ear and with an angry yell and an almost involuntary action Ransom hurled the glass tumbler straight at the wall where it smashed against the tasteful silver and white wallpaper, the 25 year old single malt trickling down the wall…just like the tears and trickled down Y/N’s cheeks as he’d forced her to look at him whilst he took what was his.

As she’d glared up at him he’d noticed a fierceness in her eyes that he was surprised to find had unnerved him a little, because she clearly wasn’t going to be as easy to break as he thought.

“Fuck it.” He mumbled to himself, grabbing the bottle from the bar before he turned and left the room, taking a large swig as he went, the burn in his throat going someway to settling his nerves.

This would work out, because he was Ransom fucking Drysdale, a man who always got what he wanted in the end, and she was going to be no exception.

**** WIYPT Tag List:

Everything

@momobaby227 @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @nerdofthefandoms @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @southerngracela @goldenfightergir @kellymat @what-just-happened-bro @jennmurawski13 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @jtargaryen18 @redhairedfeistynerd @charmed-asylum @saiyanprincessswanie @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @jhayes6984 @anika-ann @icanfeelastormbrewing @gigglegirl77 @princess-evans-addict @mes-2016 @theladybiers @void-hoechlin

Ransom Drysdale

@patzammit @icandothisallday @capsiclewinter @this-is-serenaa @alexakeyloveloki @perplexed3001 @twittytelly @kelbabyblue @maan24

If your name appears above but the tag isn’t live please let me know.

#halloween challenge #j's haunted house 2020 #jshauntedhouse2020 #dark ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #murder he wrote #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fanfiction #knives out #knives out fanfic

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writefightandflightclub · 3 years

Text

You are my sunshine (Finn x GN reader)

What is this? This is 7/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. (More deets in pinned post). The prompt is from @phoenixhalliwell and is Finn with “You think something is wrong but I simply have a huge crush on you and turn to jelly whenever you’re around.” Emma, thanks so much, and I hope that you like this! <3 I don’t write Finn often so I dearly hope I did him justice!

Author’s note: Finn! He’s precious. He deserves everything! Hope you enjoy this- there’s a little bit of angst but it’s followed by fluff. Everything ends well <3

Word count: 3k. You had all better be proud of me for writing something less than 5k :P

Warnings: lil bit of angst (reader thinks Finn is mad at them). Trapped in a cockpit but no danger / not claustrophobic or anything. Slight reader insecurity. It’s pretty light tbh :o)

You watch Finn leave with a sharp pang of pain. His excuses are becoming more and more elaborate, and it’s wearing thin.

“Sorry, I have to go and deal with a porg infestation on the Falcon.”

“I can’t hang around, Leia’s fuming mad at Poe - he made some crude Outer Rim innuendo during the briefing and she is pissed.”

“I can’t play sabacc anyway because... because I got dust in my eyes on the mission and everything is blurry.”

“I have to run and...” and then he, in fact, ran away from you.

Alright, the first two were feasible, but that last one, especially? Pretty kriffing flimsy.

It was beginning to sting a little. Alright, a lot. You and Finn usually hung out, whenever he was around on base. You always had, ever since Finn had taken control of his fate and been welcomed by the Resistance.

Since then, you had become his first real friend, and when everything was scary and new to him, you had held his hand. Literally- Finn was always reaching for you. For comfort. For reassurance. To demonstrate his fondness of you. Just because.

Of course, he’d settled into the Resistance like he’d always been a part of it, and had quickly formed a range of new friendships, including with Poe and Rey - all the cool kids on base. Of course he had. The man is likeable, courageous, and he has sunshine in his heart - despite being raised in the shadows. The strength of his light is so powerful that it blinds you sometimes. So, he’d made other friends, but you had always been his first, and his best.

At least, until now.

Recently, Finn’s touches and warm hugs and light had begun to retreat from your sky. You miss his bright brown eyes and his beaming smile desperately. You miss your movie nights and long chats. You miss laughing until your sides hurt. You miss the way he can turn anything into an adventure. The way he really listens when you talk, and his good, brave, generous heart.

This distance? It is more than a natural drift - it is more an intentional break. Intentional on his side, at least. Most definitely not on yours.

You don’t know why. You don’t know what you’ve done wrong…

…But you are determined to find out.

And, if Finn won’t talk to you off his own back, you’ll simply have to concoct some flimsy excuse of your own.

***

That’s exactly what you do, yourself and Finn now sealed together, alone, in the cockpit of some old cargo ship.

“You’ve trapped us in here?!” the man exclaims, voice loud and ringing with a rising panic.

“No,” you sigh, defeatedly. You don’t want to panic him - you just want to talk to him; without him running away. “You’re not trapped. Obviously, I’d never actually...” you trail off as you watch Finn urgently button-bashing on the control panel by the door, clearly pretty desperate to leave. “I just thought…” you explain, raising your voice a little to be heard over his rising and increasingly vocal frustration. “It was supposed to be a chance for us to talk.”

Finn turns towards you, all this energy coiling in his body, practically bouncing on his toes in his rush to get out of there. He looks as though the prospect of talking to you fills him with dread.

Your face drops. You should have realised this was a bad idea.

“We talked this morning,” Finn defends, weakly. Yeah, for all of two seconds. “Can’t you open this thing?” he pleads, throwing his thumb towards the door.

Fine. Whatever. If he’s that desperate to flee from you, so be it. Maybe you need to accept the fact that things aren’t the same between you anymore. Maybe never will be. Your heart aches in your chest.

Your shoulders slumping, you push the Jedi-in-training and all-round Resistance hero aside, punching the unlock code into the panel.

It beeps angrily in response.

A furrow in your brow, you try again.

“Oh, kriff.”

“What is it?” Finn asks from over your shoulder.

This is fine, actually. You have a back-up. Except, you pat your belt for your communicator, remembering at the same time exactly where you left it in the hangar.

“Okay,” you turn around to face him, your face locked in an apologetic grimace, hands raised in surrender. “So, we may actually be trapped now, but I would like to emphasise this was very much not The Plan.”

Finn purses his full, brown lips together, in entirely transparent irritation, an ire brewing in his eyes.

“I’m sorry!” you say defensively, though you note that your friend, Finn, would have found this funny -made the best of it- and the Finn is front of you now is someone else entirely.

“Being stuck here with you is the last thing I need right now,” Finn says into his hands, the words muffled, and yet their meaning perfectly -and painfully- clear.

Oh. Okay. That’s how it is?

You take a step back from him, wrapping your arms around yourself and rotating quickly away to face the transparisteel window. His harshness feels so alien to you, and bitter tears sting in your eyes, which you don’t want him to see.

“Kriff. That’s not what I meant. It came out wrong,” Finn says softly from behind you, and you finally hear the familiar kindness infusing his voice. The kindness you’ve been so desperate to enjoy again these past weeks. “What I meant was... was...”

Your back to him still, you raise your arm in the air. “Save it, Big Deal. You don’t want to talk to me? Let’s not talk,” you bite, your voice low and taut.

You’ve given Finn the benefit of the doubt for long enough now. Maybe this was a problem you shouldn’t try to fix. He obviously likes things precisely as they are.

Finn, for his part, hovers beside you, clearly apologetic, but you can’t even bring yourself to look at him. Instead, you focus all of your energies on popping open the console, pulling out the wire guts, and looking for a way to open this damn door.

He may have been running away from you, but now you’re the one who wants nothing more than to get out of there.

You had wanted to talk, but all of a sudden you don’t want to hear it. You can’t take one more flimsy excuse without breaking.

***

You’d tried everything. Banging on the door, waving out of the viewports. Trying to find a hatch to escape out of. There was nothing left to do but wait for your data patch to run. You’d linked-up some wires and an old data-pad to the controls, and it was simply a matter of time before your program loaded, overriding the door panel and thus letting you out of there.

Unfortunately, the small matter of time is proving problematic. It has already been about an hour, and the screen indicates your program is only about 75 per cent through -blasted old tech- and you’re not sure how much longer you can endure this fraught, awkward silence.

Save for your escape attempts, you and Finn still haven’t spoken, and, eventually admitting defeat, you have each sunk to the floor on opposite sides of the cockpit, your knees drawn-up to your chest and backs pressed against the walls of the cool metal chamber. Now, the increasingly cool metal chamber, as the afternoon draws on and the suns begin to sink below the horizon.

You sigh.

“Why are you avoiding me, Finn?” you finally ask, firmly, bringing your eyes to meet his. “And, I beg you. No more kriffing excuses.”

Finn’s knees are drawn-up too, and his elbows resting on top of them, fingers weaving and fiddling together somewhere in the middle as your question finds him.

He purses his lips together once more, his bright, expressive eyes brimming with trepidation, his hand coming up to self-consciously brush against the tip of his rounded nose.

Eventually, his head drops down, until you’re only looking at the top of it. He’s growing out his tightly-coiled, black hair on the top, sides closely cropped, and you idly note that the length suits him. There’s nothing else to note, as he still isn’t saying anything.

Still, when you take a step back from your anger and your boredom, you recognise all the signs of him being anxious, now that he can no longer run away from your questions.

“It’s not what you think,” he sighs, and you shake your head in continued frustration and look sharply away, up and out of the viewport.

And, in the continued absence of an answer from him, your insecurities begin to fill in the blanks. “You know, Big Deal, you don’t have to hang around me just because I’m the first person you met.” Out of the corner of your eye you see Finn’s head snap up to look at you, distress shining in his eyes. You ignore it. “If you’ve decided this friendship isn’t what you need anymore, I can take it. I just wish you’d stop bullshitting me. I deserve better than that.”

Then, you try to suppress it, but you shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt to keep warm. You’ve felt chilly for a while now, but you have desperately been trying to conceal the fact.

Without missing a beat, Finn slips his -Poe’s- jacket off from his shoulders, shuffling closer to you, without rising from the floor. As he shrugs it off, he reveals nothing but a white, ribbed vest underneath, tight over his toned figure, and tucked into his belt at his waist. The vest sits in contrast with the deep brown of his skin, the bulge of his cultivated muscles evident in his strong, densely-packed shoulders and arms.

This? This is precisely what you’ve been trying to avoid. You feel warmer already.

Regardless, he moves to your side, kneeling next to you, and he pauses when he gets there. Hesitates. He lifts his finger, running it ever so slowly over the textured goosepimples on your forearm. “You’re cold,” he states, his voice so deep and rich, and his touch and his proximity sending a shiver through you in an entirely different way. You’d like to argue, you really would, but he weakens you, his sudden warmth melting you quickly after his long absence, and you let him guide you forward enough that he can drape his jacket around your shoulders. It is still warm from his body heat. It smells like him.

You wanted silence, but this is the kind that you don’t like; tense, albeit in a different way.

“Thank you,” you say thinly, expecting Finn to pull immediately away again. But he doesn’t.

Instead, his eyes go a little wide and afraid, even as he sets his jaw determinedly. He reaches his hand out, ghosting it slowly down the length of your arm, until he has scooped one of your hands up and flattened it in-between his own broad, warm palms.

Holding your hand.

You’ve missed that so much.

You watch Finn in gentle puzzlement, as his pink tongue nervously swipes out over his bottom-lip. And, with your eyes gently encouraging him to go on, he finally blurts it out. He finally says what he’s been keeping from you.

“I have a huge crush on you. I turn to kriffing jelly whenever you’re around me.”

Your hand suddenly becomes clammy, held in-between his. Your heart quickens.

Wait, what?

“I’m so sorry if I hurt you,” he says, his eyes soft like distant starlight. “It’s just, I panic. I know I like to pretend I’m all smooth...” he chuckles self-consciously, that laugh sounding from deep in his chest, and oh boy, you’ve missed that sound too. You’ve missed that gorgeous pearly smile, which blooms tentatively on his face.

“Smooth?! You do a terrible job of that, Finn, no-one’s buying it,” you tease, but it’s fond, your free hand settling on top of his, and your eyes crinkling with reciprocal joy as his beautiful broad smile widens, his face full of sparkle and light.

“Oh? Okay. That’s how it is?” he laughs.

You’ve missed this. Have missed him.

That’s it? That’s all it is? He has a crush?

After a few moments, the two of you apparently basking in relief -on your part that you haven’t done anything wrong, and on his, that his confession is finally through- his smile naturally falls from his lips; however, it lingers in his eyes, that gentle starlight back again.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you. I just… kept messing everything up around you. I didn’t want you to think I was the biggest dumbass on base.”

“Oh, Finn, honey-” you grin, and he completes the sentence with you, nodding, and a big chuckle falling out of him. “Poe is the biggest dumbass on base.”

Isn’t that the truth?

You simply look at each other for a moment, all this starlight swirling in the space between you.

“Come here,” you say softly, finally, unable to resist, and you shuffle on to your knees so you can lean forward and give him the biggest hug, your arms folding around his sturdy, muscled form. It feels so good to close this distance, especially after so long. Especially as no-one on base gives better hugs than Finn, you are reminded, as he holds you.

“Are we... cool?” he asks apprehensively, into your shoulder as he squeezes you tightly, and you pull back from him, your hands still resting on his shoulders and his weaving under, settled around your waist.

“We’ll always be cool, Finn. It’s going to take more than that.”

“Yeah?” he smiles happily. “Good, because I missed you so kriffing much. I have so much to tell you.”

“And I want to hear it, but first,” your mouth tips up into a smirk. “Can I kiss you now?”

Finn’s eyes widen in shock and he makes a bunch of noises – broken, flustered syllables and consonants, his eyelashes fluttering in disbelief. He’s sunk into his relief so readily, that he must have forgotten entirely to entertain the idea you might like him back.

Your hands trail all the way down his toned arms, until you slowly fold his hands into yours, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Play it cool, Finn,” you tease, giving him a quick wink.

He schools himself, and even as you notice a hard swallow bob down his throat, and he lets out a long, slow exhale of breath through the circle of his lips, he makes use of his classic bravado. At least, for long enough to get some coherent strings of words out.

“Yes please. Y-yeah. Kiss me. You... should do that.”

Too many words.

So, you inch forward, and you press a fleeting, light, chaste kiss to his impossibly soft lips. Just enough to shut him up, before dipping your head back, giving him time to respond.

He looks at you sweetly, in shock for a moment, but, before you know it, his lips are chasing yours with a whole new confidence, and his mouth twitches-up in a smile as he meets you again. This time, the kiss is not fleeting. This time, it is drawn-out; a slow, sensual, gradually deepening thing. He hums against your mouth, the sound low and reverberating through you, and, as the kiss grows, his broad hands slowly and safely lower you down against the cockpit floor, arranging his jacket under you so that your skin needn’t touch the cold metal - only his warmth.

When you break for air, he settles himself over you, strong arms holding him up, his eyes shining with disbelief and adoration. He looks at you in a way that says – yes, you may have been his first friend, but that, maybe, you could be his first love as well.

As he gazes down at you, your hands wind up around the back of his head, skimming lovingly over his textured, raven hair, and readying to pull him back down to you, eager to drink more of him in. To feel more of his skin against yours. However; you are cruelly interrupted by a harsh sequence of beeps, indicating that the door is finally unlocked. Finn briefly twists his head over his shoulder, confirming with a look.

“Power’s back on- we can get out of here now,” you say breathily from under him.

“Nah,” he says, with a subtle smirk and a shake of his head, apparently not wanting to move anywhere that would shift his warm body from on top of yours. “I think we should stay here a little longer, how about you?”

“Fine by me, Finn,” you agree quickly, beaming back at him, like the moon reflecting sunlight, basking in his warm glow.

His eyes narrow for a moment, searching yours, and he rolls you both on to your sides, your thigh coming to land over him, and his warm hand begins to stroke you there, as his sweet, languid kisses continue to find you in succession, his breaths coming more quickly, his need unravelling. “Is this okay?” he asks, pausing momentarily to skim his thumb over your cheek and down under your chin. “How are you feeling?”

While Finn seems relatively calm and sure right now, you are suddenly feeling like jelly. “Shaking. Nervous,” you admit, your words trembling out of you.

He nods a little, like he could tell. Maybe he could feel you tremble against him, or maybe it’s deeper than that. Maybe it’s the Force. You certainly feel like something deep and powerful is eddying between you.

“It’s okay,” Finn promises softly, his voice breath, and planting a small kiss to the tip of your nose. “If you want to keep going, I’ll be here to hold you.”

Your eyes shine with happy tears, and this time, when you drag him enthusiastically to your lips, your legs wrapping more tightly around him, you know that you need not be nervous at all. It has always felt right whenever he reached for you, ever since the beginning; and now is no exception. It is so much more than him holding you physically – you feel safe in his arms in every way you could.

You had missed him so deeply, not only because you have a huge crush on him right back, but also because he is your friend. And while he may not have been your first? He is certainly your best.

Finn is your sunshine, and you are endlessly pleased to have him back; to see him shining.

#finn star wars #finn x reader #john boyega #finn (star wars) x reader #star wars imagine

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kindahoping4forever · 4 years

Text

Wanna Know That Body Like It’s Mine // Calum Hood

@cal-puddies and I once again cannot thank you all enough for clowning with us during another Hoe Hours weekend! If you haven’t yet, be sure and check out Cass’s Cal fic from yesterday (I Love The Sound, I Love The Taste) and my Ash fic (Fight So Dirty) that kicked off the event. (In addition to the bonus Cal blurb - What’s Mine Is Yours - we couldn’t help but co-write because again, we’re clowns.)

We’ve been hyped on this piece for a while - it was requested by an anon (and specifically requested we co-write, which warmed our hearts) about a month ago and while there were stops and starts, we’ve basically been working on it ever since (I swear Cass had sent me a shared doc within seconds of me sharing the request lol). We can’t wait to hear what you think so please blow up both of our inboxes!

Warnings: Boyfriend!Cal. So much smut but an equal amount of feelings. Unprotected sex in an established relationship, oral and manual stimulation of both a male and a female, semi-public sexual encounter, sex toys, rimming, pegging.

Word Count: 11,384

Cass & Crystal’s Masterlist // Hoe Hours Masterlist

Crystal: Taglist // Ko-Fi Cass: Taglist // Ko-Fi

Let us know what you think!

————-

“Hey babe!” Calum calls out, letting himself in to your apartment.

He’s greeted by a fit of giggles followed by an apologetic “Sorry, Cal, we’re almost done.”

“That’s OK, pretty girl, I’m early.” He walks by the living room, offering a quick ‘hey’ to you and the friend you’re visiting with and then helps himself to your kitchen. He gets himself some water and finds something to munch on, leaning against the counter and absentmindedly scrolls his phone while he waits.

He respects your privacy so he does his best to tune out what he can hear of your conversation but he can’t help the way his ears perk up when he hears your friend use the term “pegging.” He can’t hear much beyond that and he makes a note to ask you about it later.

She leaves shortly after and you pop your head into the kitchen on your way to change into your date night outfit. “Ready in 10,” you announce.

“No rush, baby, take all the time you need,” he reassures you, still scrolling his phone.

You sidle up next to him. “Of course you say that, you’re in here spoiling your dinner,” you tease, dipping your hand into the box of crackers he’d selected and shoveling a few into your mouth.

He takes a breath to defend himself but is stopped when you slide a few crackers into his open mouth; he chuckles and presses a crummy kiss to your lips and swats at you as you leave the room.

Date night is a success: you and Calum treat yourselves to a great dinner and even greater sex. You’re cuddling in bed afterwards, talking about whatever comes to mind. There’s a brief lull in the conversation and then he asks you how your afternoon visit went.

“Oh, it was entertaining as always, you know she’s always got a story,” you laugh.

“Sounded like, you girls were really getting into it when I showed up,” he teases, kissing the top of your head as you lay on his chest. He waits a beat then continues, “Did I overhear something about pegging? I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but I was digging through the fridge and that’s the type of thing that kinda grabs the attention.”

You nod and smile against his skin. “Yeah, she was saying they’d been talking about it for a while and then he whisked her away on this big trip for her birthday last month, surprised her with all the gear and they finally did it.”

His curiosity is piqued so after about 30 seconds, when it seems like you’re not going to continue the conversation, he boldly presses, “And?”

Unfazed, you reply, “And? They loved it. Said it made her feel powerful, he came harder than she’d ever seen. Super hot, brought them closer together, all that stuff.”

“Huh,” Calum comments noncommittally. There’s another short hanging silence and then he asks, “You ever thought about that?”

“Pegging? Um... you know, it’s not really something that’s crossed my mind.” You kinda shrug and turn your head up to look at his face. “Is it something you want me to think about?”

“Maybe… I don’t know,” he ponders out loud. “I don’t think I’d be opposed... I mean, you let me do that to you.”

“Well, it was a lot of work to get me to be able to take you that way,” you remind him.

“And I think it was worth it. And you don’t seem to complain about it,” he playfully argues.

You smirk at him, “There’s nothing to complain about. I do like it, that’s why we keep doing it.”

“You make valid points,” he grins. He watches you yawn and then kisses your nose. “Get some sleep, love.”

The subject doesn’t come up again over the next few days and you think nothing of it when you receive a text from Cal asking if you want to visit the sex shop. You both enjoy incorporating toys into your sex regularly and you hadn’t treated yourselves in a while, so you respond that it’s a great idea.

You walk hand in hand into the shop and then Cal kisses your cheek and you break off to look at different things. You browse for a while and then decide to find him and see if he had anything particular in mind for this trip.

You find him in front of the wall of strap ons, harnesses and dildos and he’s looking more than a little wide-eyed.

“Hey handsome, what’d you find?” You ask, curiously peering in the direction of his eyeline.

He leans in and admits in a low voice, “After our talk the other night... I just keep thinking about it.”

“Oh... OK,” you reply, rubbing his back gently. You’re a bit surprised but immediately supportive. “So... what are we looking for?” You gesture towards the wall.

You watch as he opens his mouth a couple times to answer and then he just shuts it and walks forward, looking closer at different toys. You can immediately sense he’s overwhelmed by the choices.

You link your arm in his and press a peck to his shoulder. “I know it looks like a lot but you’ve helped me pick out toys before so you’re not totally in the dark here,” you point out. “It would just be... you know, for you this time.”

“I think that’s the intimidating part,” he comments, chewing his lip. “I don’t want to pick wrong and not enjoy it and mess up something that’s supposed to be fun for us.”

You rub his arm tenderly. “Cal, we’re talking about us, we always have fun trying things. So you don’t need to worry about that,” you say firmly, hoping your confidence will provide comfort to him. “If you want to do this, the important thing is that you’re comfortable and figuring out what you want is the first step.”

He nods and scans the wall again, taking a deep breath. “The flesh colored ones are a lot,” he says quietly. “We should get a fun color.” You smile agreeably.

“I’m not ready for balls. Just a cock,” he states, almost under his breath. You bite your lip in amusement, not wanting to discourage him.

“This is good, bubba, you’re narrowing it down,” you encourage him.

An employee sets up a ladder to the left of you to get a toy down for another couple and you see Calum’s eyes repeatedly darting over there; you’re not sure if it’s out of embarrassment at his uncertainty or curiosity in what they’ve selected.

You give him another couple minutes but he’s gone quiet and you decide to step in. “Maybe it would help if we went home and talked about it? You can look at some of my toys, feel the different textures… we can look online and filter things down?” You gently suggest. “This was a good start but it might be easier to make a decision without the pressure of being in a store.”

He exhales, you assume in relief, and puts his arm around you. “Sounds good, baby,” he agrees. You expect him to lead you out of the store but instead he walks you over to the furthest corner of the intimidating wall. “Wanted to show you this, thought it suited you for some reason.”

He points at a box containing a chic-looking red and black harness; it’s a similar style to lingerie he’s picked out for you before, with fancy lacing details over the hips and ass. Of course even when planning a sexual encounter that he’s requested, he would think of you first. You grin at him. “I love it, we should get it,” you declare.

“Yeah?” He beams excitedly, picking up the box. “It caught my eye and I couldn’t get the thought of you in it out of my mind. It says it’s adjustable for most toys and it’s crotchless.” He winks at the last part and you giggle, taking the box from him and heading to the counter.

You leave the store on a high and Cal seems really into it for a few days; next time he’s over at yours, he even asks to have a look at your toys. He feels them, wanting to understand the weight and the girth.

“I have to applaud you,” he comments, sitting on your bed, studying your collection.

“For what, bub?” You casually reply, laying on the bed, watching him.

His eyes widen as he gestures at the various shapes and sizes in front of him. “You take all of this so well… and I think about you taking my cock and… holy shit, babe, that’s not easy.”

“Well… thank you, baby,” you chuckle. “But also, we probably won’t use anything similar to your cock for you just yet,” you wink.

And then it’s forgotten. Days pass without Calum bringing it up and you don’t feel like you should, since it’s something he instigated and you don’t want to make him feel pressured.

“It’s totally fine if you’ve changed your mind on the pegging thing,” you casually say one night, sitting on the kitchen counter while he loads the dishwasher. “I just want to make sure you’re not avoiding talking to me about it because you’re afraid to.”

“Hmm?” He looks up at you. “I guess I wasn’t sure how you felt about it,” he shrugs.

“I think it’d be fucking hot, Cal, but we’re not doing it for me,” you explain. “I’m not the one who needs to make the decision here. But for the record, if you want it, I’ll be happy to do it.”

“Well then,” he smirks. “I’m about done here. Let’s go look for some toys.”

Moments later, you’re on the couch; you sit on Cal’s lap and his computer sits on yours. You pull up a couple different sites and start filtering.

“OK, so what do you think about firmness?” He gives you a questioning look in response. You smile softly. “OK so my pink one and the like, kind of clear one? Those were super soft right?” He nods. “So we’re gonna want something firmer than that. But we probably don’t want anything too hard either.”

“Right, so like a medium then?” He reaches around you to reach the touchpad, scrolling the page. “Which of these do you use?”

“Mmm, don’t have toys for my ass.” You reach down and wrap your hand around his cock through his shorts. “Only this guy and the plugs we bought.”

“Someone’s frisky,” he comments, eyes turning back to the screen.

You filter the pages, pointing out a few options, clicking across a few different sites but still haven’t removed your hand from his crotch. He lets out a loud breath through his nose. “You OK baby?” You ask sweetly.

“Yeah, I’m great. Got a pretty girl on my lap, just barely giving me a hand job through my shorts, looking at cocks to fuck me with,” he shrugs. “All while we’re sat in the living room; just a normal day.”

“Oh, if the location is an issue, we can take this to the bedroom,” you offer with a laugh.

Calum shakes his head. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

You turn and look him directly in the eye. “Well, I know one way you could find out for sure,” you lilt, spreading your legs a little.

“You act like I won’t,” he teases. He sticks his hand down the front of your shorts, slicking his fingers through your folds. He pulls his hand out and lifts his fingers to his mouth. “Yeah… we’re gonna wrap this up in the bedroom,” he announces.

He leads you to the bedroom and sits up on the bed, gesturing for you to sit up against him. You fit yourself in between his legs and pull the computer into your lap. “Let’s finish this up,” you murmur, looking back at him.

He agrees and you go back to searching, though every so often you shift your hips just so to hear him gasp. He points out some choices that he likes and you go find your soft tape measure to make sure he understands the girth of the cocks he’s picking. You instruct him to measure a few of your toys but “for reference” he pulls out his own cock to measure and that gets him distracted.

You see him stroking himself out of the corner of your eye but you try to stay focused on your search, opening a few more tabs to show him. You hear the familiar hiss that means he must’ve just thumbed over the head of his cock in a very particular way and you finally have to look up at him.

“What is this, hands on research?” You joke, taking a deep breath to steady yourself at the sight.

Cal grins, closing the laptop and setting it aside. He grabs your hips to bring you face to face with him. “Think that’s enough for today,” he says deeply, nipping at your neck. “I need you.”

“I mean, it seemed like you were doing OK on your own,” you breathe as you reach for his hard cock, lightly running your fingers up the shaft.

Suddenly his mouth is on yours, kissing you with an intensity you don’t quite recognize. Melting into the kiss, your hands race his as you rid each other of your clothing and within moments you’re sitting in his lap, positioned above him, teasing his cock with your wetness.

He’s torn between wanting to whine at your teasing and wanting to tease you for being just as affected by the situation as he was so he splits the difference and moans as he grabs your hips and thrusts up into you.

You start to ride Calum at a fairly steady pace but he’s clearly determined to get you both off and get you both off fast; his hands are seemingly glued to your hips and he bounces you up and down on his cock, meeting your every movement with his own.

Neither of you say anything, letting your noises speak for you. He only lets go of you when he sees you biting your lip as you try to find the right friction; he moves one hand to grab your ass and the other he slips between your legs to find your clit.

It only takes a couple minutes from there for you both to finish in a flurry of noises. He keeps you in his lap for a moment, as you both come down. “See, pegging is already doing wonders for our sex life,” he quietly jokes, kissing your face.

The next day, you come over after work; you let yourself in and find Calum on the bed, with the websites already pulled up for you to browse together.

“I’ve been doing some thinking,” he announces as you sit next to him.

“Thinking’s good,” you chirp, kissing his cheek before resting your head on his shoulder.

“I know we didn’t find exactly what I wanted but we were only looking in the dildo section, since we already bought you that badass harness you’re gonna look so hot in,” he excitedly rambles. “SO, out of curiosity, I clicked on some of their kits and I think they could work for us.”

He clicks through a number of tabs on his browser, searching for what he wants to show you and explaining his findings to you. You’re honestly impressed by the amount of research he’s done on his own; it makes you feel good to know he’s decided to take an active role in this process, it lets you know he’s serious about it. It also makes you irredeemably horny to know he’s been sitting here alone, spending what looks like a considerable amount of time contemplating what the perfect kind of cock is for you to fuck him with. You press your legs together and try to listen to what he’s saying.

“...It comes with different sizes so that gives us some leeway on that decision - they’re all cute colors, no balls. And it says they all have the flared base so we can use our harness instead of the one it comes with,” he reports, scrolling through the website’s pictures for you to see.

He’s right; the set he’s found ticks basically every box on your shopping list. You can see why it would catch his eye: it’s equal parts arousing and unintimidating, made for a beginner like him. “Cal, this looks great,” you enthuse, reaching over to add the set to your cart. “You’re better at this than even I am, I don’t think I’ve ever picked out a toy this fast.”

“I don’t know about that,” he preens a little at your praise. “I just clicked around and once I saw this one, I started picturing you with it and… I think it’s a good choice.” His voice catches slightly and he clears it, pointing to the moderately sized royal blue dildo.

Again, your entire body feels charged thinking about Calum thinking about you, wanting you like this. You begin pressing wet kisses along his jaw and he chuckles at your eagerness. “Got a couple other things I think we should shop for, pretty girl,” he smirks, seeing you pout in his periphery.

“Oh? Let me see,” you reply, moving to snatch the computer away from him. You giggle as Cal anticipates your move and sits it beside him on the bed so he can continue searching. You sit up on your knees and continue mouthing at his jaw, neck and ears, your hands lightly moving over his chest. You take note of the way his sweatpants are beginning to tent.

“Baby,” he breathes. “I wanna show you this set of plugs… might be a good idea… we didn’t go right into having you take my cock… worked up to it.” His breathing increases every few words and you know you’ve got him when you thumb over his hardened nipple through his shirt and he shudders.

You shake your hand under his shirt to give more direct attention to his nipples while sucking on his neck. “Yeah, Cal... plugs... sounds great,” you murmur.

“What’s got you so needy today, my love?” He chuckles, grabbing the back of your head for a proper kiss.

“Something about you taking such an interest here, making an effort to get it right... I appreciate it," you mumble against his lips before pulling him in for an even deeper kiss.

“Well. Something about you taking that kind of control... seeing you strapped up and wanting me that way...” He groans. “C’mere, darlin.”

He pulls you back onto his lap; you make out hungrily and it's just as intense as the day before but not as frantic. After a few moments, your shirts are discarded and you start slightly grinding in his lap. Cal grips tight onto your hips, pulling you down a little harder.

“Have you ever experimented before?” You ask, pulling your face away from his to gauge the answer.

Getting him to share isn't always easy so you don't expect him to answer so breezily. "Always wondered what it'd be like, dipped a finger back there a couple times but never really pushed in," he shrugs. "Felt kind of silly doing it myself. And I couldn’t ever imagine someone doing it for me until now." He smiles softly, eyes shining.

Your heart flutters at his honesty. “Should we give it a go then?” You quirk an eyebrow, smiling as well. You feel him tense for a second and you thread your fingers in his hair. “I mean, we should start trying at some point, but we can take it slow,” you explain. He stays quiet and you reassure him, “We don’t have to do this yet if you’re not ready.”

He studies your face for a second and breathes deep. "I want to… think I’m just kind of wrapping my head around it," he admits, furrowing his brow.

You melt at his conflicted expression and kiss him tenderly. "Hey, you don't have to worry, we're in this together, you know?" He nods firmly at your encouragement. "Good... luckily I know by now how to get you to relax," you tease as you kiss down his chest, palming him through his sweatpants.

He lets out a breath through his nose. “Baby.” He’s grinning, you can hear it even with your eyes closed.

You let his cock spring free and you softly kiss the tip before pulling his pants all the way off.

“You trust me, baby boy?” You ask, tugging at the band of his pants.

Cal lifts his hips. “Of course,” he offers without hesitation.

“OK. I’m gonna try something, alright?” You warn, coming back up to pay special attention to his cock.

You hear him murmur his consent as you lick up and down the sides of him and then sink your mouth down, bobbing just enough to get him nice and covered in spit. You pull off and check his face, which is watching you, fascinated; he raises his eyebrows in anticipation for what's to come, given your announcement.

You wrap your hand around his length, slowly tugging it as you mouth his balls. You gently rub your hand up and down the back of his thigh before pushing it up and very gently kissing your way down further. You gently lick over his puckered hole and wait to see how he reacts.

You hear a sharp intake of breath which you expect, what you don't expect is the way he slightly scoots his ass down closer to you. You move your tongue against his opening again, this time adding a couple swirling motions, which earn you some low groans.

You grin to yourself and repeat the action. He wraps his hand around the back of his leg, lifting it for you so you can focus your attention where he really wants it. Calum may be ready for this after all.

There’s a whimper that escapes his lips that lets you know he’s enjoying this more than he was letting on. “Tongue,” is all he says. “So good...”

You let go of his cock and slide both hands up the back of his thighs, pushing them closer to his chest.

“So pretty, babe,” you coo. He’s had you like this many times before and you can see why he likes it, the vulnerability it forces you to share. “Touch your cock,” you direct, going back to tend to his hole.

He seems entranced by the way you're making him feel, a seemingly never-ending gravelly whine pouring from his throat. After a few more flicks of your tongue, you pull back and notice his hands remain clenched at his sides.

"Cal, baby," you lightly tap his thigh. "Stroke yourself for me, handsome, I know you need it."

Calum breaks out of his daze at the sound of your voice and pulls his cock away from his stomach, where it's been laying there leaking.

You go back to work and he wraps a hand around himself; he manages two or three tugs before he lets out a guttural moan and immediately drops his cock again. "Babe... touching feels too good... don't wanna cum yet, want you to keep going," he pants.

“Oh... I’ve got a needy baby boy, huh?” You tease. You let go of his thigh and reach for his abandoned cock, lightly teasing your fingertips over it while you lap at his entrance.

You feel him relax a bit so you start to tease the tip of your tongue inside him, partly for him but mostly so you can hear his neediest whines yet.

Cal whimpers as you cup his balls and run your finger lightly on the underside of his shaft. You can see the precum pooling on his stomach.

He’s mumbling with that rasp that his voice gets only when he's feeling truly wrecked. You place a few sloppy wet kisses to that space between his hole and his balls and he shouts as his whole body jumps.

You pull back to admire him in his debauched state and the cry that leaves his lips confirms what bad shape he’s in. He lets out a breathy, “Baby, why?” followed by a begging, “Please don’t stop.”

“Just wasn’t sure if you were enjoying it,” you tease, diving back in with more enthusiasm and determination than before.

You keep one hand lightly massaging his base and it only takes a few more licks over his opening for you to feel him twitch in your grasp and to hear him groaning. His orgasm is absolutely obscene; his cock spurts rope after rope of cum over his torso, as he whines desperately, still pushing his body closer to you, urging you to keep going.

You give him what he wants and keep flicking your tongue against him over and over with the occasional dip inside until you feel him start to settle down. You move your kisses to his thighs and look up at him again.

"Cal?" You check on him.

His eyes are still screwed shut, his hand now tight around his cock, squeezing the last few drops of cum from his tip. “I’m good baby... so fuckin’ good,” he sighs. His other hand reaches out to you and his body relaxes completely. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him so wrecked and it makes you want to do this for him even more.

You take his hand and grasp it tightly, coming up to gently stroke his lightly sweat-covered face with your other hand. "Did so good for me, bub, holy shit," you compliment him. "So hot seeing you like that, I could definitely get used to this."

He kisses your hand and then looks down at his cum covered body. “I think I could too,” he laughs euphorically.

The weekend comes and Cal lets himself into your place, as he always does; Duke comes scampering in too.

“Hi love!” You greet the dog, leaning over to pet him.

Cal grins, watching you with Duke.

“Hiya, other love.” You wrap your arms around his neck and stand on your toes to kiss him. “Listen… I went ahead and bought those toys you showed me,” you say nonchalantly as you pull away.

“Oh? Good... I forgot,” he says sheepishly.

“Look, I haven’t been dating you for this long not to assume you wouldn’t remember after we got high and you buried your face in between my thighs like I was your last meal,” you tease, tapping his shoulder.

“And I’d do it again,” he smirks. “Especially... like… I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about your tongue every day we did that.”

“Oh? Enjoyable for you, handsome?” You chuckle.

“I mean, judging by the amount of cum you cleaned off my stomach, I'd have to say yes,” he says with wide eyes, pulling you back in to him.

It’s only a matter of time before you’re back in the bedroom. Your panties stay on but Calum is completely naked, on his back and holding his thighs up for you again. His breathing is heavy and he’s whimpering as your tongue dances over his hole.

You pull back and peer over at him. “Cal… do you wanna try something?” You ask.

“Yeah, baby, anything you want,” he rushes out.

“Babe, this is about you,” you point out patiently.

“I know… you’re right… I want it, I want it.” It’s almost panicked the way he’s whining.

You run your hands along the sides of his thighs soothingly. You reach over for the small bottle of lube you’d tucked under one of your pillows just in case and coat your fingers with it. You wrap your hand around his cock and slowly touch him, knowing he might need the distraction and then you gently tease a finger against his hole, swirling it, causing him to gasp. You wait until he relaxes and then you squeeze his shaft as you slowly start to push your finger in.

Cal lets out a breathy “Oh” like you’ve never heard and you press a kiss to his leg as you push in a little further. You continue slowly like this for a minute until his breath sputters and you feel him tightening around your finger. You pause and start to pull back but then he emits a deep “Keep going” that you can’t disagree with.

You push your finger in slowly past the resistance and then gently start moving around, looking for that one spot; you’ve done your research so you would know what to expect and what you were looking for.

He practically pries your hand off his cock. “Can’t,” he whines, desperate.

“OK, handsome,” you murmur. You kiss along his thighs and wrap your free hand around one. You work your finger a bit more, watching his body react. When he starts moving back against you, you ask, “Want another?”

“Mmm hmm,” he nods frantically, eyes closed.

You slick a bit more lube onto your second finger and start to work it in as well. “Doing so good for me, baby,” you sigh. You didn’t realize how worked up you had gotten until you hear how breathy your voice comes out. “This is so fucking hot, Cal.”

“Oh god, baby,” he cries, voice straining as your two digits move inside him. You look up at him and he’s looking right back; it’s one of the more intense moments you two have shared. He drops his head to the pillows and you watch his back arch and a slew of curse words spill from his lips. “Right. There,” he huffs.

You gently bite his thigh. “Want to see you cum for me, baby,” you coo, confident in your movements. Almost immediately, his sounds become even breathier and whinier and you see his hand fly to grasp his cock as the cum starts spurting. “There you go, baby boy,” you praise as he desperately bucks his hips. “So good, handsome.”

You pull your fingers out and Calum lays panting for a while, dazed. You press a kiss to each of his knees and move to start cleaning up. His eyes are shut but he feels you moving around the room and he reaches out to touch your arm. “I love you, baby,” he quietly rasps.

The next morning, Cal gets up just after dawn to take Duke out and never returns to bed. You find him at your kitchen table, eating a bowl of oatmeal and writing in his journal.

“Morning, bub,” you yawn, kissing the top of his head as you pass by to make yourself some breakfast. "I was thinking if it's nice out, we might take Duke to the park today?"

He gets up and takes his bowl to the sink. “Oh, uh… I was actually thinking I’d head out pretty soon,” he says apologetically. “I’ve been busy so the house is kind of a mess… there’s actually a lot I should take care of.”

“Oh. OK, yeah,” you shrug. You’re slightly surprised, you thought you were spending the day together but it’s not unlike Cal for him to put vital tasks until the last minute. “Maybe next week.”

The next few days follow a similar pattern. You ask Calum if he wants to grab dinner, he already has plans. He’s “swamped” and has to postpone your movie night. There’s still a “Good morning, pretty girl” text waiting for you when you wake up every day and a “Good night, my love” text that chimes every night when you’re brushing your teeth so you’re not too worried but you can tell something is off.

You get an email that your toy order has shipped and you send a screenshot to Cal, accompanied by the eggplant and dripping emojis. It takes him a while to reply, which is typical, but when he finally does, all you get back is “lol.” You frown. You don’t know how you expected him to respond but it was definitely not “lol.”

Your understanding of the situation starts becoming a bit clearer when you scroll up through your text thread and see that every time you’ve brought up your recent encounters, he’s either changed the subject or given an extremely short, vague response. You exhale slowly. You’re going to have to talk to him.

A hike is the least confrontational activity you can think to suggest and he agrees to meet you at your usual spot with Duke later that afternoon. They find you in the parking lot and you kneel down to show the small dog some love before you give your boyfriend a peck on the cheek.

As you’d hoped, you basically have the trail to yourselves; you walk for a bit, chatting easily about everyday things. You stop for a quick break and you decide to take a deep breath and go for it. “Kinda wanted to talk to you about something, bubba,” you start, hoping you don’t sound as uneasy as you feel.

Cal sits on a nearby bench and scoops Duke up to sit beside him. He doesn’t say anything, just looks at you, brow furrowed, dark eyes squinting in that way he does when he’s really concentrating on what you’re saying.

You sit next to them; you want to look him in the eyes but you’re weirdly nervous so you focus on petting the sweet dog who is also patiently waiting for you to make your case. “I feel like… and I could be totally wrong and please tell me if I am… but I feel like maybe you’ve been avoiding seeing me after you know… the last night we spent together,” you try to put it as delicately as possible. “And it’s fine if you didn’t like it and it’s fine if you want to stop trying the things we’ve been trying but… I need you to talk to me about it, Cal. I shouldn’t have to guess here and I’m feeling really shut out.”

He’s quiet for a minute but you know he’s going to take his time weighing his words and making sure he expresses himself clearly. Finally he quietly says, “You’re right.”

There’s another pause and you hope to ease his mind by cracking, “That’s a good start, babe, but I’m gonna need a little more.”

Calum shakes his head fondly, waits a beat, then lets it all out, both slow and rushed as only he can. “I guess I just didn’t expect… I don’t know, baby, we’ve been together a while and we’ve done a lot of shit but that’s the closest to you I’ve ever felt. Which is good like… I want that. But I just felt really… exposed?” He stares off down the trail for a few seconds, gathering his thoughts. “I’ve just never felt need like that before and I don’t think I was prepared for how it would feel to let you see me like that.”

It takes a minute for him to feel like he can meet your eyes and you can’t help but think it’s for the best, as yours are brimming with tears. You feel so deeply for him in this moment and the love you have for him overwhelms you.

“Baby,” you whisper, reaching your hand over the bench to squeeze his shoulder. “That’s a lot. And I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t talk to me? You didn’t have to deal with all that alone.”

“A bit hard to be open with someone about being embarrassed you were open with them,” he points out with a shrug.

“But Cal, that’s just it! There’s no reason to feel embarrassed, you know there’s no judgement between us, especially in bed,” you firmly insist. “And if you are feeling weird about anything, I need to know. The only way we can continue this is if you talk to me, babe, that’s just the way it’s gotta be.”

Calum nods quietly and sits Duke on his lap so he can pull you closer, placing his arm around you. You rest your head on his shoulder and say, “You have to trust me with this, bub. I’m not gonna feel comfortable doing this unless I know you can communicate with me. How can I be sure you’ll tell me if something doesn’t feel right physically if you feel awkward even telling me that your feelings are off, baby?”

He squeezes your arm. “I can do that,” he promises. “I also think I was a little afraid to make you feel bad about it. I really did like it. And I could tell you did too. It was just the after I had trouble processing.”

You lift your head up and gently turn his face to look at you. “I’ll make you a deal,” you state. “I can definitely step up my aftercare game for you. But for me, Cal, I need once and for all you to understand that this isn’t about me. I know it goes against your instincts and I love that about you but we’re doing this for your pleasure and that’s all that matters to me.”

“Deal. Although… I’m still gonna give you one hell of an orgasm when you do this for me… there’s no talking me out of that,” he smirks, lightening the mood.

You text him later that week to let him know the toys have arrived and his face immediately flashes on your screen.

“Should we get out of town?” He asks.

“We can do whatever you think is gonna be most comfortable for you, bubba,” you affirm. “I figured you’d want to do it at your place because it’s familiar territory and it’s going to be such an unfamiliar experience…”

“I know I agreed that technically this is for me but... I still feel like it’s about us…” He thinks out loud. “I dunno, part of me wants to take you away on this big romantic adventure so we can be alone together. No outside world, just our bubble.”

“I love you, baby. Whatever you want,” you say softly.

And so it’s settled. The next afternoon Calum is waiting for you on your couch when you get home from your half-day at work. He’s already packed a bag for you and he’s raring to go.

You head into your room to change and decide to check what he packed for you. You unzip the bag and to your surprise, it appears he’s thought of just about everything, including his favorite lingerie for you. The harness, the dildo set and the plugs are all accounted for and he’d even remembered your travel bag from the bathroom. You smile at his effort and head back out to him.

“Great pack job, baby, I’m all set!” You toss the bag by the door excitedly.

He grabs your hand as you walk to the door and for some reason it goes straight to your core; you’re not travelling far but you realize the drive is about to feel that much longer.

You haven’t been in the car very long when Cal starts noticing how touchy you’re being with him and about halfway through the trip, he decides to ask. “What’s with you, baby?” He asks, playfully nudging your knee.

“Nothing,” you tease. “I’m just excited! Time alone together? This is rare.”

He glances over at you and gives you a look. “You sure that’s it? Because the way you’re squeezing your thighs tells me you're excited in another way.”

“Honestly, Cal... I’d give anything to ride your face right about now,” you boldly admit and give a cheeky grin when you see his face twitch at your words.

He groans, “The absolute death of me.” Shaking his head, he quietly commands, “Undo your shorts.” You do him one better and push your shorts to the floor.

“Can’t get my mouth right now, but I’m sure my fingers will do,” he mumbles as he very quickly pushes your panties out of the way and slicks his fingers through your folds. “Oh... pretty girl,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers away to suck them into his mouth. You turn your body toward him, resting your back against the door and pulling one leg into the seat with you.

Cal steals a glance and his thumb presses to your clit, causing you to moan.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, you naughty girl,” he teases, nudging his pointer finger inside you. “Is this how you’re gonna be all weekend?”

“Probably,” you shrug nonchalantly.

“Good,” he responds smugly. “I knew getting away would be the right choice.”

He pushes two fingers in and you grip the seat, letting out a little noise of approval. “Please, Cal!”

He knows he can’t take his eyes off the road no matter how badly he wants to look at you, so he turns down the radio so he can listen to your moans and let his imagination fill in the rest. You resituate and tilt your hips up toward him more. “Rub your clit, baby… want you to cum for me,” he growls.

You bite your lip and do as you’re asked. You moan loudly as he pushes in a third finger and his eyes somehow remain on the road. You let out a little gasp.

Calum can’t help but steal a glance. “Mmm, my pretty girl’s pretty pussy,” he licks his lips. “You’re so close, baby, I feel you squeezin’ my fingers.”

You grab onto his wrist with your free hand as his fingers continue to pump in and out of you. Your head lulls back against the window and he makes quick work of finishing you. “Yes, baby, so hot when you cum for me,” he praises.

He withdraws his fingers once you stop throbbing around them and he lifts his index finger to your lips for you to suck clean; he goes on to suck the other two.

You sit, still exposed to him, catching your breath and you eye his hard on. “Don’t even think about it, darlin’,” he warns, keeping focused on the road. “I can practically read your mind and you’re basically salivating.”

“Can’t help it if I wanna suck you off…” You say breathily, hand dancing up his thigh. “You just made me cum… makes me wanna make you cum… you knew what to expect.”

“And now I expect you to keep your hands to yourself till we get there. Just a little bit further baby,” he promises.

You huffingly adjust your clothes and see him smirking out of the corner of your eye. But he’s right and it’s not long before you’ve made it to the hotel and checked into your room. The energy between you is wild; comfortable but nervous, familiar yet unknown. You find things to do to busy yourself, knowing it’d be ridiculous for you to immediately jump into bed. Cal connects his phone to the room’s sound system to play some music, hoping to ease the tension as you both unpack

The music helps and you go from humming along to the music to singing to being goofily spun around the room by him within minutes. After a few songs, the only bag left unopened is the one containing all your toys and you stare at it for a beat.

He notices your hesitation and comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around you. “Let’s leave it for now, baby.” He nuzzles into your neck. “Sitting in the car all that time got me craving a hot shower, come join me.”

The shower (and inevitable shower sex) helps you both relax and when you’re back in the bedroom getting dressed afterwards, you bound over to the bag left on the bed.

“This is silly. Why am I nervous now that we’re here? Do you feel nervous?” You babble as you sit on the bed, unzipping the bag and dumping it out next to you.

Cal smiles to himself and sits down next to you. He soothingly rubs a hand over your back and with the other he picks up one of the dildos, examining it. “Nah, I’m quite looking forward to getting to know our new friends,” he says lightly. He sits it down and leans in closer to you. “It’s gonna be so good, darlin’. Can’t wait for you to fill me up,” he rasps.

You suck in a breath and capture his lips in an eager kiss that’s somehow both comforting and thrilling. “I don’t know if that qualifies as a pep talk but thanks, bub,” you laugh against his skin.

The rest of the day seems to fly by; you and Calum decide over drinks that it’d probably be best to ease into things and just try out the plugs for your first night. He insists on eating you out before you even think about touching him and by the time he makes you cum, he’s whining against you.

You’re not sure what you were expecting but the plug experience goes off without a hitch. You think to yourself that you’ll never tire of seeing him spread himself for you, never tire of hearing the new type of moans he’s been letting out since you started this journey.

It doesn’t take Cal very long to get used to the smallest plug in the set and you’re surprised when he asks you if you’ll switch to the next size up. He must’ve noticed your reaction because he tells you that the past few times he’s jerked off, he’s also fingered himself, thinking about your upcoming plans. That admission leaves you throbbing and Cal has to get you off again before either of you turn in for the night.

The next morning, you awaken to the feeling of light kisses being pressed along the back of your neck and Cal pressing himself his hardening cock into your backside, warm hands rubbing over your thighs. “Morning, pretty girl,” he says with a crack, his voice not as awake as the rest of him. “Think it’s time, baby.”

It takes a few seconds for his meaning to land. “OH,” you turn and look at him with wide eyes. “Is it? Like right now? First thing in the morning?”

“Don’t wanna wait any longer, want you now,” he murmurs, kissing over your face.

You indulge him for a second before pulling back and asking, "What time even is it? It feels early."

Calum hovers over you, nibbling at your ear. "Doesn't matter, babe. Sun's out, it's a beautiful day and it's fuckin' time," he enthuses.

There's a beat as his words register with the both of you and you clamp a hand over your mouth to stifle a snort. He grins at you. "I meant that like for emphasis, like ‘It's fuckin’ time' not like I'm calling sex Fuckin’ Time," he laughs loudly, shoulders shaking the further he gets into his defense.

You cackle, tears running out of your eyes. You tease, "What does it say about me that I still want you after hearing that come out of your mouth?"

He shakes his head, breath coming out in wheezes. "You must really have it bad for me, I guess," he shrugs, eyes sparkling.

"Something like that," you giggle, drawing him in for a kiss. You nip at his mouth as you pull away. "Now, let's get what we need, baby. It's Fuckin' Time."

He hops in the shower while you evaluate the lingerie he packed for you and decide what he'd like best. You get out your gear and think to yourself how glad you are that you watched a video online about how to properly fit the harness for your body; you're so excited you're not sure you'd be able to figure it out on your own otherwise.

By the time Calum's out of the shower, you're admiring your reflection in the mirror above the dresser; you could always count on him to pick out underwear that both accentuated the things he loves most about you and made you feel great. Your hand wraps around the synthetic cock jutting proudly from your crotch; you give it a light squeeze and marvel at how the silicone is such a familiar feeling but feeling the weight of it attached to you, seeing it as part of you, knowing what you're about to do with it? All new feelings, equally jarring and thrilling.

You hear a sharp intake of breath behind you and turn to see Cal, clad only in his grey sweatpants. He walks over, eyes never wavering from you and takes your hand to spin you around so he can fully appreciate you. He lets out a soft whistle. “Gorgeous,” he praises, eyes travelling over you and landing on the royal blue dildo he chose. “A pretty cock for my pretty girl.”

He pulls you in to kiss you and you giggle against his lips as you feel him shifting, trying to find a comfortable place to situate your protruding appendage. “Is this what you have to deal with with me, baby? Jesus,” he laughs at the awkward dance.

You shrug. “I’d say it’s worth it,” you say flirtatiously as you reach down to palm him, raising an eyebrow when you feel him soft.

He runs a hand over the back of his neck like he does when he gets bashful. “I, uh, might’ve pre-gamed a little in the shower. I wanted to be sure I could make this last,” he discloses.

You smile and peck his lips. “Good boy,” you coo.

Cal steps back and eyes you for a second. “You’re feelin’ yourself, aren’t you, baby?” He grins at you.

You bite your lip and turn back to your reflection and you find yourself wrapping a hand around the dildo once again. “Actually, I kind of am,” you state with a nod.

He kisses your shoulder. “I’m feelin’ you too... now let me get you off so we can get to Fuckin’ Time,” he jokes.

You giggle as he leads you to the bed. "Always such a way with words," you tease.

Calum attempts to lay you down with him but you hold a hand up, signaling you need a moment. You reach over to the bedside table, where you’d ended up unpacking your toys, and come back up with lube and the plug he liked the night before.

“We should probably start with prepping you, handsome,” you suggest gently.

He nods in agreement and lifts up to strip off his sweatpants. He holds his knees for you, like he’s done so many times now, and waits to feel the chill of the lube against his entrance. He gasps sharply when he feels your tongue briefly brush against him instead.

“Sorry, baby boy, couldn’t help myself,” you chuckle, pressing a kiss to his inner thigh. He ends up taking the plug with even less resistance than the previous session and he beams as the praise flows from your lips.

You lay beside him and sigh as he moves above you, kissing along your neck and the tops of your breasts, murmuring about how pretty they look in the bra he picked out. You expect him to make his way in between your legs but he pulls back before he makes it there. "Think I'm gonna need you on my face, love."

You let out an excited hum as Cal gets situated next to you and squeal as he grabs you and pulls you over to straddle his face. “I knew you’d look incredible in this, baby,” he murmurs, nibbling your thigh, fingers tracing over the lace of the harness before teasing over your wetness, thanks to the crotchless center. “And anything with this type of access is A+ in my book.”

"Well, you're a man with exquisite taste," you compliment playfully.

You gasp as he licks a fat stripe up your center. "Mmm, talk about exquisite taste, darlin’,” he laughs huskily.

The lighthearted moment is short-lived as he quickly gets down to business licking you. His tongue dances along your folds, occasionally dipping inside your entrance teasingly. It always takes you a minute to feel comfortable grinding on his face but once you start rocking your hips, you're unable to stop and he grips your thighs to steady you.

“Slow down, baby, I’ve never let you down,” he murmurs. He presses up on your thighs to make room for him to push two fingers inside you.

“God, Calum.” You moan, looking down at him, tangling your fingers in his hair. “So fucking good.”

He withdraws his fingers in favor of licking up into you and you feel your eyes widen as you watch him reach up to grab the dildo and begin stroking it. You groan loudly, feeling yourself become even more turned on than you thought possible as you watch his hand move over the silicone as his mouth pleasures your pussy.

"Like how my cock feels in your hand, baby? Do you like jerking me off?" You tease, arousal emboldening you. "If it feels this good to you now, just think how much better it's gonna feel inside you."

Cal grunts into you and you swear you could cum just from that sound alone. His hand works quickly over the toy as he wraps his other around your thigh, pulling you down on his face. With his nose lightly nudging your clit, you can’t help yourself and start grinding on his face again.

“Get it, baby,” he moans. “Can’t wait to feel you in me.”

He sucks your clit in between his lips and your legs shake around his face. He releases it in favor of flicking his tongue and then lifts you up a bit, kissing along your lips as he catches his breath.

"Somethin' about seeing you like this," he breathes. "I don't know, pretty girl, it's already more than I dreamt of."

You murmur in response and he brings you back down onto his mouth. "Now I need you to cum for me."

You grip tightly into his hair, encouraging his skilled tongue to finish you off. “Oh fuuuuuuuck,” you moan loudly, leaning forward into the headboard as you cum. Cal takes his time licking around you, letting you enjoy the come down.

“Jesus Christ,” he groans, lifting you off his face. You land next to him and he sits up, immediately pulling you into a sloppy kiss. “Need you,” he states plainly, reaching for the lube and placing it in your hand. “Please, I can’t wait,” he urges.

You let out a loud breath, pleased by his eagerness. You start slicking the lube over your strap-on; Cal hurriedly lays back down on the bed; his chest rises and falls rapidly, you can tell he's both excited and nervous and you recognize that the look on his face is the one he makes when he's trying desperately not to touch himself.

You lean down and kiss him sweetly, hoping to calm him a bit. "Do you feel ready for me, baby?" You move down his body and lightly run your fingertips over his cock, playing with the precum that's sliding down the shaft as you check on the plug that's been filling him. "You take this one so well, Cal. Think you're nice and open for me."

He lets out a shaky breath, reaching to hold onto your hips for a second. “Baby,” he says quietly as you gently pull at the plug, pulling it to the widest part and letting it slide back into him.

“I’m serious, Cal, wish you could see how well you take it,” you praise, watching in amazement. “You gonna be this good for my cock? I know you want to, don’t you, baby boy?” You tease, digging your nails into his thigh.

He whimpers slightly and you watch as he attempts to collect himself, cock already twitching with anticipation, leaking onto his stomach. "Pretty girl, I'm gonna need that pretty cock in me as soon as you can, don't think I can wait much longer," he rasps

“Oh, I think you could,” you tease. “But I won’t make you.” You pull the plug out, gently squeezing his balls in your other hand. “The idea of you letting me have you like this is so hot...” You trail off as he shudders underneath you; you assume it’s from the coolness of the lube you’re rubbing over him but you suspect it partly has to do with your words as well.

You grab your cock and line yourself up, pushing the tip against his hole. “OK, Cal, remember to talk to me,” you whisper, rubbing your hands reassuringly on his thighs. You make eye contact with him as you start to push into him at an achingly slow pace, watching his face, making sure everything’s OK.

You see him puff out his cheeks and exhale slowly a couple times, trying to decipher how he feels about your intrusion. You slowly continue until you meet that resistance and you pause before going any further. "Relax, baby," you soothe. "We’ll go as slow as you need, I promise."

You start to pull out slightly and his eyes widen as he involuntarily lets out a loud moan. You halt your movements again and wait. "That was actually a good sound," he chuckles, squeezing your hand on his thigh. "It's just. Feels fuller than before. But good. Just different." He rambles, sorting through his racing thoughts.

You squeeze his hand back and smile at him. He breathes deep. "We can keep going, just slow like this," he nods to himself. "And maybe some more lube?"

“Of course, Cal, yes, this is perfect,” you enthuse. “Tell me what you want, just like we talked about. That’s what’s gonna make this good for both of us.” You encourage excitedly, working more lube onto your toy.

You feel like kissing him; you think he wants it, maybe even needs it. But you know you can’t lean in to do so, you’d push in too quickly, so you settle for kissing his knee.

He squeezes your hand again, “A little further, love,” he requests.

You do as he asks and you see him wince briefly so you back up. This decision is met with a whimper. “No, baby, in. I’m good, I promise,” he states firmly.

You take a deep breath to steady yourself and reach to play with his cock a little, hoping to give him both some relief and some distraction. He licks his lips and relaxes into your touch, allowing you to inch the toy in a bit more. "Doing so good, Cal," you comment softly.

You watch his chest breathe in and out, timing it with the slight rocking of your hips to help you enter him more and more. Calum wraps his hand around yours, helping you stroke your hand over him.

“Oh fuck.” He moans, squeezing your hand around his cock. “Like that,” he pants.

Your tactic works and he gets so caught up in the feeling of your joint efforts jerking him off that he doesn't notice you've finally worked the dildo inside him entirely. "God, Cal," you groan at the realization. "How does it feel knowing I'm buried inside you, baby?"

He shudders at your words. “Buried?” He asks, making sure he heard right. He feels you pressed all the way against him and groans. “Oh my god, baby… fuck.” He gently tugs on you, pulling you down to him. “I’m so happy we’re doing this,” he murmurs, kissing you.

You move back to a kneeling position and gently pull your hips back; when you slowly push forward again, his mouth drops completely open and the only thing that comes out are little breathy sounds.

You feel yourself throbbing again, this is already much more intense than you anticipated. Calum's eyes are squeezed shut but you're confident if they were open, they would be glassy. "Baby boy," you warmly coo, slowly rocking your hips. "Let me see you stroke your cock, handsome."

His eyes open and he blinks rapidly, eyes focusing on you working above him. Your words finally register and his hand travels down, wrapping around his cock. "Feels so good," he murmurs, fighting the urge to speed up his hand. "Want more, baby, please give me more."

You slightly pick up the pace and mild discomfort flashes across his face but it’s quickly replaced with pleasure. You lean in and press kisses across his chest, covering the tattoos there.

“Mmm, more baby…” Calum pants, squeezing the head of his cock. “Can you... please… faster?”

You oblige and he lets out a loud whimper quickly followed by a guttural moan when you accidentally change the direction your hips hit.

“Right there... right there, GOD, right fucking there,” he chants, letting go of his cock in favor of grabbing you to help you find that spot again.

His moans go straight to your core and you feel arousal start to drip down your thighs. You can't believe how hot it is seeing him like this, witnessing him give himself over to you like this and let his guard down, telling you what he needs from you. "Makes me feel so good to give you what you want, baby," you admit in a whinier tone than you intend. "Just want my cock to please you like yours pleases me."

“It’s fucking perfect,” he chokes out.

The two of you manage to find that magic spot again and your hips hit it relentlessly once you do. Calum is breathing heavier than you’ve ever heard before and when you tease a finger down his precum soaked shaft, he yelps. “You wanna cum for me, baby boy?”

"Don’t want this to end," he confesses, voice faltering in that way you know means he's at the point of no return. "You're just fucking me so good, baby." His voice catches at the end of his sentence and he groans deep and loud as his cock starts to twitch; his hand flies towards it as the pulsing intensifies, cum shooting out in wild, strong spurts along his torso, some reaching as high as his chest tattoos. His moans seem to go on forever, as does his orgasm; you continue to drive your hips into him through it, marveling at the intensity of his release as he pumps the last drops out.

He grabs your hips when it becomes too much and you slowly pull back and out of him. “Holy fuck, baby.” He breathes in disbelief. “You... you fucked me good.”

You grin and move beside him, fingers dragging through the cum covering his chest; you lean forward to lick at the ropes decorating his tattoos and he threads his fingers in your hair, gazing at you adoringly. “How're you?” He asks, caressing your cheek.

“I loved it. But… honestly, I’m dripping, Cal,” you confess, sitting back up. “I knew that was going to be intense but like… fuck.”

He notices the sheen of wetness on your thighs and reaches out, arm heavy with exhaustion, to caress your leg. "What can we do for you, love? Anything you want, you deserve it."

You lean down to kiss him. "I feel like your mouth is making promises the rest of you can't keep, baby boy." You chuckle against his lips. "I have an idea but first help me out of this harness, I wanna be naked with you."

He helps you out of both the harness and your bra and then pulls you against his body. You put one of your legs between his and start to rock your hips against it, looking up at him for another kiss.

He nibbles at your lips before kissing them, sighing into your mouth as he feels your wetness spread on his leg. "Tell me what you need, love, want you to feel as good as I do right now."

You bite your lip and shift yourself off him, leaning over to the bedside table. "At first I thought it might've been a mistake that you packed my plug along with the set we got for you," you start, retrieving the toy and reaching for the lube. "But now I'm thinking you may be the smartest man alive."

Cal smiles broadly as he watches you slick it up and then reach behind you and start spreading some lube around your tight hole. "I know you, baby, thought you might get jealous seeing me stretched out like that," he teases.

“You do know me,” you affirm with a smirk. “Help me?” You ask, handing him the lubed plug.

He grins cheekily at you and captures you in another kiss as he works the plug in; he pushes it in a bit and then pulls it back out, making sure you feel all the stretch he knows you love.

You groan at the sensation and Cal plays with you a little more, enjoying your sounds and the way your hips are moving. "Babyyyy..." you whine and he relents, pushing the plug inside you fully and giving your ass a light tap.

"You want something else, darlin'?" He asks sweetly, reaching towards the drawer again. "Brought your vibe too. Or we've got the other dildos from my set we didn't need."

“So thoughtful, such a gentleman,” you tease, gesturing towards your small bullet vibrator. He clicks it on and starts teasing it against your clit.

You bite your lip and groan. “You’ve earned this, baby,” he declares, watching intently as you take the toy from him and start moving it on yourself.

You got so worked up from fucking him that it only takes a few minutes before you're close. "Gonna cum," you announce to no one in particular.

Calum watches as you hold the vibe against your clit waiting to fall over the edge. He moves his hand from your chest, where he'd been gently playing with your nipples, down between your thighs and plunges two fingers inside you, moving them carefully so as not to upset the position of the vibe.

“Fuck, Cal,” you moan, hips bucking against the vibe, pussy clenching around his fingers. He works you through your orgasm, encouraging you to ride his fingers and switching out the vibe on your clit for his thumb when he can tell it’s become too much.

He withdraws his fingers from you and licks them clean as you flop face down onto the bed next to him. He chuckles and runs his other hand through your hair and down your back as you come down. “You can’t possibly be more worn out than I am, pretty girl.”

You shift your head to face him. “I don’t know, baby… having you like that… kind of the hottest thing I’ve ever seen or done in my life,” you tease, eyes and voice dreamy with exhaustion.

“Well… letting you have me like that was the hottest thing I’ve ever done or seen, so I guess it’s a draw,” he responds, kissing your face as he gently removes the plug from your ass.

You curl into each other and it’s quiet for a few moments as you both take in what you just experienced. “Thank you for asking me to do this for you,” you breathe, breaking the silence. “It feels good to know you trust me like this.”

Calum kisses the top of your head. “Can’t think of a thing I wouldn’t trust you with, darlin’,” he says thoughtfully. “I love you.”

You murmur, “Love you too, baby boy.” You peck his chest and sit up, pulling on his arm. “Let’s get cleaned up and then it’s Fuckin’ Nap Time.”

He lets out of a huff of a laugh, allowing you to pull him out of bed with you. “I’m never gonna live down Fuckin’ Time, am I?”

“Think you’re just gonna have to embrace that one, bub, I’m not letting it go,” you giggle as you pull him towards the shower. “But don’t worry, I can guarantee you’re gonna be hearing that phrase a lot this weekend, you’ll have time to embrace it.”

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