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nickfowlerrr · 2 years

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series masterlist

part one • part three • part four • part five

happy golden days of yore • 2

pairing: dark!bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. 18+ ONLY. later parts will contain noncon smut. 40s misogyny? pet names. masturbation. creepy bucky.

words: 3k

notes: part twooooo. let me know what you think 🖤

You’d thrown away the burnt cookies and quickly made a new batch, letting them cool off to the side as you started on your dinner. You were planning on just heating up one of the frozen pizzas you’d bought, but figured it’d be nicer to make an actual meal for your impromptu host.

You tossed the caesar salad together out of the ready to mix bag into a larger bowl and after moved to drain the pasta and lower the dial on the burner that held your homemade marinara meat sauce.

The oven dinged and as you bent down to get the bread out, you felt eyes on you. You stood and placed the tray off to the side of the counter, slightly checking your shoulder to see if he really was there.

“Smells good,” he complimented as he met your eye.

“Thanks,” you returned politely. “I haven’t made this in a while, so hopefully it tastes good, too.”

You looked at him as he leaned his back against the counter, his arms across his chest as he watched you. His hair was damp and pushed behind his ears, the stubble remained, and he was dressed in a dark-green cable knit wool sweater and black joggers. It was funny how he looked slightly more inviting now, the softness of his sweater making him appear softer, too, not so intimidating. At least from a far. But he still had this air around him… something that gave you pause about getting too close. You didn’t want to be dramatic, but he had an essence of danger. You’d decided you’d wait for the storm to pass and head back home. You were sure it’d be better for both of you the sooner you headed out.

“Do you want salad?” you asked, getting ready to make his plate. It was his home, after all. It felt rude to just say, ‘Hey, dinner’s done. Help yourself.’. But maybe that was just the old school, ‘women need to serve the men’ way of thinking your grandparents had instilled in you, not maliciously, but still a mindset you’d been trying to shake since high school, when you first realized how ridiculous that thinking was. Still, serving him just felt more polite.

He considered you another moment, you could still feel his heavy gaze on you as you had your back to him, waiting for his answer.

“Yeah, whatever you made is good,” he told you. He pushed off the counter and made his way to the table, taking his seat at the end before his eyes returned to your figure once more. It was unnerving, him watching your every move, but in all fairness he knew nothing about you and was really just going on your word that you were John’s granddaughter. For all he really knew you were just some stranger who’d broken into his home so you couldn’t really blame him for being weary of you. If that’s what all the staring was about.. Either way, what were you going to do about it?

You set the bowl of salad down in front of him before getting his plate and filling it with pasta and sauce. You grabbed the tongs and set a couple pieces of the still warm bread on his plate.

“Enjoy,” you smiled smally as you set it down for him.

“Thank you,” he said, sounding sincere. “Seriously, I was just going to heat up a can of soup. It’s nice to have an actual meal.”

“Of course,” you responded. “Like I said, it’s the least I can do.”

“Would you mind grabbing me a glass of water, sweetheart,” he asked as you walked back to get your own plate, the request giving you half a second of pause.. And there was that pet name again.. You brushed it off and nodded.

“Sure,” you agreed, filling two glasses, one for each of you. You handed one to him and set the other on the opposite side of the table. You finished making your plate and made your way to your seat.

“This is really good, doll,” he praised after taking a bite. “I haven’t had a home cooked meal in a while, I forgot how good food could really taste.”

“Glad you like it,” you laughed lightly, looking down at your plate, mixing your food around before you took a bite of your own.

You ate mostly in silence, but as you were finishing your food, decided it would be an okay time to ask him some questions.

“So..if you don't mind me asking, what is it that you do for work?”

He gave you a cross look, brow raised as he examined your face carefully.

“You really don’t know?” he asked skeptically.

“Should I?”

He paused another moment before looking down, lips pulling into a bit of a frown as he thought, giving a small shake of his head.

“I guess not,” he said before returning his gaze to you. “I, uh. I work for the government. Kind of. With the government, really. I told you my name is Bucky, my full name is James Barnes,” he finished slowly, as if waiting for you to connect the dots, eyes never leaving your face, wanting to see the moment you’d put it together.

It took a second, but then it all clicked. You thought he looked familiar, but you didn’t think for even a second where you remembered seeing him before.

“Oh,” you breathed, “you’re…oh.”

You weren’t sure what to say. You were sitting across from the Winter Soldier. You were eating pasta with the Winter Soldier. Fuck, you essentially broke into the home of the Winter Soldier, you were surprised you were still sitting there breathing.

It did explain the danger vibes he was giving off earlier and the imposing presence he seemed to have so effortlessly. Plus he had a metal arm. You don't know how you didn’t realize it sooner. It was clear in front of your face.

“So, you come home after being away for however long and find some stranger in your home and don’t automatically assume the worst?” you said, trying to relieve the tension creeping into the space between you.

“Well I did come in armed,” he smirked lightly. “But I don’t think many suspicious characters are going around decorating, baking cookies, and playing Christmas music in the houses of their targets.”

“Ah, right,” you nodded. A part of you felt relieved that this stranger was actually a well known Avenger and not some sketchy guy you’d be spending the night with. It dwindled some of your trepidations.

“I didn’t say this before, but I'm sorry about your grandfather. I didn’t really know him all that well, but he seemed like a good man,” he offered.

“Thank you. He was,” you smiled.

“Were you two close?”

“Yeah. He and my grandma raised me. After she passed in 2018, it was really just him and me. I had moved out on my own a few years ago, but we still saw each other all the time. It’s been kind of weird, honestly.. The being alone. Not alone like, alone, but like.. no family. Ya know?”

“Yeah,” he nodded almost solemnly.

“Shit, that was really insensitive,” you chided yourself, “I’m sorry.”

“You really gotta stop apologizing all the time, doll. I didn’t take it any kind of way,”

You looked away then, smiling awkwardly at your plate before taking it to the sink to wash it.

“So you’re not scared then?” he asked out of the blue.

“Sorry?” you questioned.

“You know who I am. You’re not scared?”

“I mean, even if I was, I’m kinda stuck here til the storm blows over, so,” you joked to cover your discomfort at his question. You could feel his gaze burning into you all over again. You didn’t need to turn around to know he was staring. “Did you want more? I think I made a little too much,” you tried to change the topic.

“No, I’m alright. Thank you,” he replied as he got up. You were a little surprised when he started putting the leftovers in the glass tupperware you’d set out. He brought the empty dishes to the sink and you washed them as he put the food in the fridge.

“I baked more cookies,” you told him. “Didn’t burn ‘em this time. There’s plenty if you want any,” you finished, nodding to the plate of cookies on the counter behind you.

He grabbed one and waved it at you with a small smile before he walked out to the living room.

You finished washing the last of the dishes and put them to dry before you stored the cookies away in a christmas tin to keep them fresh.

You grabbed more water and turned the light off, leaving the kitchen. As you entered the living room, you felt yourself heat up all over noticing you’d forgotten to take your laundry upstairs earlier. You’d sorted your delicates and regular clothes as you folded them so there was a pile of your socks, bras and underwear on display next to your pile of shirts and sweaters. You didn’t want to make a big deal out of it and embarrass yourself further so you acted like you didn’t even notice as you threw them all together and swiped them up to take them to the room you were staying in. Bucky was sitting on the chair near the fireplace, a book in his lap, but he wasn’t reading it. He was looking at his phone, doing something else, so you just hoped he hadn’t noticed. And if he did, you just hoped he didn’t mind too much. Not that it was entirely mortifying but he was a man of the 40s and you weren’t sure whether or not he’d gotten accustomed to the times by now or if this was as scandalous as you felt it was.

Bad enough you’d let yourself into his cabin and made yourself at home, but you just seemed to keep adding more to the situation.

“Bucky,” you spoke softly, gaining his attention nearly instantly. “I’m gonna head up, call it a night. It was, uhm, nice meeting you,” you said with a little, nervous laugh. “And again, I’m really sorry for just intruding like this. Thank you for not kicking me out, I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it. Anyone would be lucky to come home to the likes of you. Be crazy to kick you out,” he said with a smile as his eyes ran up your body to meet your own.

Your eyes went slightly wide at his response, but you again reminded yourself that he was used to the ways of the 30s and 40s and you were sure he didn’t mean to come off so..well, like he was.

You forced a smile and turned to head to the stairs.

“Your cookie was delicious, by the way,” he added as you began to ascend the stairs, causing you to turn to him once again.

“Oh, good. Glad you liked it,” you smiled again. “Have a good night,” you bid as you continued up the stairs.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As you were putting away your laundry, you realized that something was missing... You were sure you had washed your silky black thong. It was your favorite pair and you vividly remembered folding it and putting it on top of the pile of your delicates when you were folding the clothes earlier. You thought maybe you’d dropped it when you were coming upstairs and peeked your head out to check the floor of the hallway, but you were too nervous to check the stairs or go back down and check the couch. You huffed when you couldn’t find it and accepted you must’ve dropped it downstairs. You’d get up early in the morning to look for it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go back down there now just to grab your elusive thong.

Instead you headed to the bathroom and got ready for bed.

It was still freezing in your room despite the fire burning downstairs. You plugged in your space heater before crawling under the covers, but that didn’t stop you from tossing and turning for a while before you finally fell asleep.

—---------------------------------

You weren’t sure how much later it was but you were sweltering under the blankets you had on. You kicked them off of you in a haphazard haze, desperate to feel cool again as the heat threatened to consume you. You pulled your sweater off like you were on fire and threw it off the side of the bed. You were facing the wall and kept your eyes as shut as you could, not truly wanting to wake up fully.

You wanted to just fall back asleep, but your throat protested. You needed water so begrudgingly forced yourself to sit up and grab your glass off the bedside table. Bucky must’ve turned the heater on, something you were trying to avoid. As you took a sip, you noticed the door to your room was open. You had been sure to close it when you went to sleep, so you were taken off guard. The only other person in the house was Bucky, but he was nowhere to be seen. You don’t know why he would’ve opened the door, but you convinced yourself it was a safety or security thing and not something creepier. You got out of bed and looked out into the dark hall, finding the door to Bucky’s room ajar. You changed into sleep shorts and crept back to bed after pushing your door more closed, but not shutting it completely either.

Something was pulling at your mind to stay awake now, but you didn’t know why. Despite that small part of you trying to fight the urge to go back to sleep, you were back under in a matter of minutes.

Sometime during the night you recalled feeling a chill run down the side of your hip and along your thigh before you tossed over and pulled one of the blankets further across your body.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If she closed the door back shut, he told himself he would just go back to bed. That would be it. He wasn’t trying to be a creep, but fuck he just couldn’t help himself.

That seemed to be a more and more common thought he was having today. Like when he saw your thong on the couch earlier just out in plain sight, tempting him to feel it, touch it, take it. So he did. What harm could it do?

The beating of your heart and the soft sound of your breathing just across the hall from him had been keeping him up. The image of you, thoroughly worn out and curled up under the covers was a sight he was suddenly desperate to see. He had opened your door, just to peek in. That’s all he was planning on doing. But when he saw you, laying there, sleeping so peacefully, innocently, he couldn’t help himself. You looked like an angel. He walked in further, not making a sound. You were completely bundled up, and he suddenly realized you must be freezing to have all those clothes on. He ventured out into the hall and kicked the heat on, the first time he’d done that all year. It should warm up soon enough. And then maybe you’d lose some of those bulky layers that were keeping your figure from his sight. He wanted to see the softness of your skin again, to watch the rise and fall of your full breasts with every breath you took. Maybe he’d get lucky and you’d lose the sweats, too..

So when you didn't shut the door completely after you got up, when you unknowingly blessed him with the sight of you stripping off your sweats, your thick thighs and ass on display for him, albeit briefly, as you changed into those little shorts, he couldn't resist going back in. It was like, even if just subconsciously, you wanted him to. To see you all laid out like that. Thin tank top, no bra, little shorts that rode up your ass, soft flesh just begging to be admired, rubbed and squeezed in his hands. He’d never seen anyone so perfect. You tossed again in your sleep, your back to him now as you laid on your side. He inched closer. And closer still until he was inches away, hovering over your body. His hand moved of its own accord, smoothing up your thigh, reveling in the goosebumps that rose on your skin. Just as soft as he thought you’d be. He ran his hand up and down softly a few more times, tickling you in your sleep. Your breath hitched ever so slightly before you let out the sweetest moan he’d ever heard. Suddenly, his briefs were too tight and he was about to burst out of his sweats. He slipped a hand in his pants and lowered his sweats just enough to let his erect cock spring out. He leaned closer to you, ensuring he didn’t make a sound as he let his cock head touch your bare thigh. He rubbed against you, slowly so as not to disturb your slumber, but up and down your thigh until you rubbed back against him while you readjusted in your sleep. Your ass rubbed his cock and he quickly jerked away before his precum leaked on your unsoiled skin. He was controlling his breathing best he could, but it was still heavy, almost shaky as he forced himself to leave your room. The second he walked into his own, his hand was jerking his cock hard, squeezing and fisting himself tightly, all the thoughts and images running through his mind were solely revolving around you.

#dark!bucky barnes x curvy!reader #dark!bucky barnes x plus size!reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky x curvy!reader #dark!bucky x plus size!reader #dark!bucky x reader #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky x reader #soft!dark bucky barnes #soft!dark bucky x reader #dark bucky smut

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ceruleanmusings · 3 months

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Big Time Blogger - Big Time Rush & Mason

while this wasn't my favorite ep of the first season i still like how it highlights the leaps the boys' logic gets to sometimes so it was easy to write the mason's into this. i think i'll post BTRides next. i'm really quickly catching up to all my pre-written stuff.

@partiallypearl @raging-violets @witchofinterest

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“Hey guys…why are you hanging out with a garbage can?” Jazz asked, jerking her thumb in its direction. Behind her, her sisters exchanged confused glances as the boys in question all spoke over each other, mumbling something about air ducts, wifi cables, and biscuits.

“Better question!” Kendall’s pointer finger jerked into the air, accompanying the wide-eyed look he shot the guys. It made them all stop talking at once, clasping their hands together in front of them. “Why is Sammi carrying a tray of waffles?”

Mickey and Sammi glanced at each other and then at Kendall, Mickey with an unamused expression on her face to go along with Sammi’s huff and eye roll. “That’s Mickey,” Sammi corrected him, pointing over to her. Kendall let out a small chuckle, an apologetic smile popping a dimple into his cheek. Mickey, in turn, picked up a waffle and tossed it at him. It bounced harmlessly off his chest. “And Uncle Gustavo posted a Scuttlebutt about not liking Belgium.” They stared at her, expressions blank. Heaving a sigh, accompanied with a roll of her eyes, she continued. “The media thinks he hates Belgium so he tried to post another Scuttlebutt with a picture of him with waffles but they weren’t Belgian waffles so he asked—”

“—Yelled at—” Jazz cut in.

“—yelled at her to make Belgian waffles. The studio’s kitchen is too small, so we made a bet with Bitters to use the Palm Wood’s kitchen to make them.”

“According to Katie he’s been making bets all day,” Mel added.

“What’d you bet?” Logan asked.

Jazz shrugged. “That I could guess the number he was thinking between one and ten.”

“What was he thinking?” Carlos asked.

“Seven, duh!” Mel and Jazz said in unison, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

“You always go with seven,” Mel added.

The boys nodded and made noises of agreement. It was cut short with Carlos’ loud and prolonged “Mmmm!” causing them all to look at him. His dimpled smile quickly vanished, and his chewing stopped when he noticed them all looking at him. Clutched in his hands was a half-eaten waffle.

“Please tell me you didn’t pick that off the ground,” Logan said, eyes closing in pained dawning.

“Yeah! And it’s so good!” Carlos gushed. He took another large bite of the waffle, his eyes rolling in his head. Mickey’s face lit up and she bounced on her toes, the stacks of waffles wobbling slightly. “Oh my god! Can you make these for us?”

“Wait, I want to try one,” James said. He reached out for the one in Carlos’s hand only to jump and pout when Carlos slapped his hand away. Undeterred, he shrugged and turned to Mickey, reaching out for the stacks she carried. She, too, reached out and slapped his hand away, making him rub the back of his hand and pout even more. “I can’t handle anyone else being mean to me today.”

“You might want to stop rolling around with a garbage can, then,” Mel said. “Y’all’re weird but this is even weird for you.”

“We just…didn’t want to have to carry our towels and sunglasses and flip flops to the pool,” Kendall said with a wave of his hand. When the blue container started to rock from side to side, he rested his elbow on it and his chin upon his fist. “The sunscreen’s not great under pressure.”

Mel squinted. “Since when do you pale-ass boys wear sunscreen?”

“…Since we’re worried about…wrinkling.”

“Uh-huh.” Mel crossed her arms over her chest; her tongue poked at her cheek. “I’d believe that if he said it,” she said, lifting her chin in James’ direction.

“And why are you all dressed like…that?” Sammi didn’t bother to hide the disgust in her face or in her voice as she took a step away, as if their fashion choices were going to come to life and attack her. “Did your closets spit up on you?”

“Hey, I think we look good!” James protested.

“You do.” All their eyes swung over to Mickey whose own eyes, wide and round, bounced from face to face before pointing downward as she swayed from side to side, the tip of one doc marten digging and twisting at the concrete around the Palm Woods pool.

James grinned, standing up taller and grasping the lapels of his leather sports-coat. “Thanks for noticing," he said with a wink.

“Did anyone else notice there aren’t any airholes in here?”

The girls all jumped back at the voice, huddling together. Mickey pushed Jazz forward by a shoulder, earning a glare from her older sister. Huffing, Jazz shuffled back to the trash can and gave it a swift kick, jumping back again when a sound of pain came from it.

“Okay, start talking!” Jazz demanded.

The boys all spoke at once, talking over one another as they explained how Deke was going to write a blog post about spending the day with them, how it would make or break their careers, and how they needed a good endorsement for their album coming out. By the time they finished talking the girls looked as if they’d just been told clouds were made of spaghetti.

“You locked him in a closet!?” Jazz asked, incredulous cracking her voice.

“I’m stuck on chasing him through the air ducts,” Mel said, dragging a hand down her face.

“It’s the trash can for me,” Sammi said, pressing a finger to her temple.

“Look! We can’t let him out or anywhere near wifi or he’ll put the blog post online or we’re done! We got desperate!” Carlos cried out. Little bits of chewed up food fell out of his mouth, landing in a wet heap by his feet.

“You’re way past desperate, honey.”

“Can you guys help us out?” Kendall asked.

Sammi scoffed. “So we can get more than you for aiding and abetting?” Shaking her head, her curls bounced from side-to-side. “Nuh-uh, no way! I aint goin’ down like that.” She crossed her arms and muttered “white boy nonsense” beneath her breath.

“Just think, you’d be the prettiest one in jail,” Jazz commented.

Sammi scoffed, fluffing her hair. “I’m the prettiest one in general, but thanks.”

“I guess we’re your ugly stepsisters then?”

Sammi blinked. “We’re not stepsisters.”

“Well!”

“Guys! Focus!” Mel said, waving her hands. “Okay, let’s get the guy out of the trash can and—”

“No!” the guys all yelled.

“At least let us try to talk to him! We’ll tell him how you guys are just…anxious getting your music out and how you just want all your efforts to be worth it,” Jazz said. “You just want everything to go perfectly and…for the world to see what you’re capable of and how much you put your hearts into it.”

“I think that’s the first honest thing I’ve heard any of you say!” Deke’s muffled voice seeped through the thick blue plastic.

Kendall spared the garbage can a glance. “And if that doesn’t work?” he asked.

Jazz hummed, looking around, until her eyes zeroed in on the tray in Mickey’s hands. “Well…we can bribe him with waffles.”

“…Waffles?” Deke repeated, curiosity seeping into his voice.

“Yeah!” Jazz leaned over the garbage can, speaking directly to the lid. “We’ll let you out and give you a waffle as long as you promise not to take off. Got it?”

“…Got it.”

“Okay, let him out.”

Mouth twisting to the side, Kendall unlocked the latch on the garbage can. The lid flung open in a smooth arc and out popped Deke, cheeks red, hair mussed, and a deep frown on his face. He cast a suspicious look around at all of them and uttered, “Okay, where’s my waffle?”

Jazz grabbed one off the top of the pile and all but shoved it into Deke’s mouth. He took a large bite and chewed then he shrugged. “Eh…I’ve had better.”

The corner of Mickey’s lips twitched upwards, mimicking the twitch in one of her eyes. Her fingers gripped the tray, her tan skin turning a light beige in at the efforts. With one hand, she removed the plate from the tray and held it out to Sammi, completing the smooth motion without once taking her eyes off Deke. Her chest puffed up with the force of her inhale and she let it out slowly, her smile then turning eerily pleasant. And the smile, still so pleasant, remained on her face as she reared her arms back and charged forward.

“No no no no no!”

James lunged forward, looping his arms around her waist, easily lifting her kicking form off the ground amidst the screaming of protest from their friends. Her head jerked from side to side in an effort to get her dreads out of her face, spitting a loc away from her mouth every now and then.

“Everybody just…calm! Down!” Kendall yelled, waving his hands in the air, green eyes wide and wild. All commotion ceased, even around the rest of the Palm Woods pool. Even one guy at the edge, having frozen himself in a half-squatting, half-leaping position, looking very much like a stick figure on a crosswalk sign. “Heh…sorry!” Kendall called out. “We’re rehearsing for a play!”

“Okay dude—” Jazz said.

“Deke,” Deke corrected her.

“Bless you. You got your waffle, now you get to talkin’. Capiche?”

“Threatening. Great.” Logan let out a very strained laugh, his grin tight. “Might as well add that to the list of this horrible day.”

“it’s not entirely horrible,” James said.

“Yeah? How do you figure?”

“Well, I still look good.” James motioned to himself and winked Logan’s way. As Logan rolled his eyes, James adjusted Mickey who hung dangling over his shoulder, her mouth drawn up into an angry pout then he took a bite of a waffle and said out the corner of his mouth, “And these are great.”

#big time rush #kendall knight #james diamond #logan mitchell #carlos garcia #jazz mason #mickey mason #mel mason #sammi mason #mason quads #big time blogger #btr rewrite #big time rush oc

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thoughtsandbones · 1 year

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The way you ease my trepidation

Kyle 'Gaz" Garrick x F! Black OC (Clarissa Edwards)

Because I keep seeing posts on people excluding our guy Gaz who's LITERALLY THE MAIN CHARACTER YOU PLAY IN MWI and MWII!!!!!

The storyline follows my main fanfic from Part 15 II - Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!MedicDoc OC (codename: Blue) 💀💙

WARNINGS: Profanity, fluff, medical inaccuracies (because all my knowledge regarding medicine comes from Grey's Anatomy and that one stint I did as a first aider)

A/N: This is my first time writing a black character, I've heavily used @writingwithcolor as a guide to ensure I am doing my best to represent the characters. Please do let me know if there are any issues!

Song inspo: 'No Blame' - Christina Chong, Move - Milo Greene, Maan Meri Jaan - King and Nick Jonas, Phantom Studies - Marcel Dettmann and Ben Klock

As Kyle made his way to the RAMC building, Soap's voice echoed in his head.

"Can't feel my legs"

"Lt I'm not gonna make it"

He tightened the grip he had on his vest that he still had not taken off, tainted with Soap's blood when helped Ghost with packing the cellox into the gunshot. Checking his watch it was 12:15pm.

Doc should be done by now he thought to himself as he walked through the double doors, walking past all the medical personnel and straight to reception.

He was met by an empty desk, and looking around the wards he could not see the Doctor nor any other authority figure. Kyle slid his hand into his back pocket retrieving his keycard.

The ambush from AQ when they were in Al Mazrah was something they had not expected, especially not with the kind of hardware they were carrying. State of the art machine guns, snipers, RPGs and up armoured vehicles. All this reeked of Makarov's doing.

Squeezing his fist tighter at the thought of Makarov's smug face made his blood boil. He smacked the reception desk hoping to release some of his built up anger, but it didn't help.

It was then he noticed the big whiteboard behind the desk on the wall and moved closer to it, scanning down the list of patient names until he found John MacTavish, his eyes slid across the row and saw Dr Hari Kaur and Dr Peyton Marie as surgeons assisted by Nurse Clarissa Edwards, Nurse Jenny Mao and Nurse Mikey Way. He then saw he was in the ICU bed 12. Looking down at his all-access keycard, Kyle grinned slightly and made his way to the double doors where the sign pointed ICU.

Once he arrived at the ICU, Kyle made his way to bed 12. There he saw Soap, laying on his back, eyes still closed and intubated. Cables where attached to Soap which were connected to the machines surrounding him, beeping rhythmically. The pipe coming out of his mouth was so unnatural an uneasy sick feeling settled in Kyle's stomach as he stepped closer.

"Soap?" He said, hoping that somehow the Scotsman could hear him and wake-up.

But no answer.

"Jesus" He whispered as he rested his hands against the bed where Soap laid. "You gotta wake up mate" He said nudging his left hand slightly.

Still no response.

Kyle sighed and closed his eyes, running his calloused hands through his hair and scratching the nape of his neck.

"Excuse me, what are you doing in here?" A voice behind him said sharply. Kyle turned, his eyes met a nurse dressed in baby pink scrubs that made her deep sepia skin glow, there was a green stethoscope wrapped around her neck that was crowned by black braids that swayed as she moved closer to him. In her hands she carried a tray with a big bag of liquid with a long thin pipe coming out of it.

"Err.. came here to see Soap" Kyle said, trying to remain cool, straightening up to appear more authoritative

"Dr Marie said I could see him" he lied, hoping she won't pester him...

"Really?" She said, her brown eyes widening, a grin appeared on her face. "When did you speak to her?" She asked moving over to Soap setting aside the tray on the overbed table, and then checked his charts that was in the folder hanging on the end of the bed near his feet.

Kyle cleared his throat. Gotta bullshit my way out of this he thought

"Few minutes ago in reception" He said, smiling at the nurse, trying to look at her keycard to identify her.

The nurse looked up from the chart and at Kyle, and raised her left eyebrow.

"Now, that's a lie as Dr Marie is currently snoring her head off in the on call room."

A wave of guilt and anxiety rushed over Kyle as he was rumbled.

"Err-" Kyle stuttered as he looked around the ICU, shifting his weight before looking back at the nurse who was still giving him a cautious look.

"I'm sorry I lied, just needed to make sure he was okay" Kyle admitted, looking back at Soap.

The nurse slightly relaxed, putting away the charts back in the folder and looked at Kyle as he gazed upon Soap. Her gaze met his and his eyes wandered back to her, she gave him a sympathetic smile.

"Alright, five more minutes, I need to give him some meds so you can stay here with me." She sighed moving towards the alcohol gel dispenser, squirting the foam on her hands before rubbing them together.

"Thanks Doc" Kyle said grinning at her

The nurse laughed "I'm nurse Clarissa Edwards, not a doctor" She said "Doctors wear blue scrubs, nurses wear pink or green" She added putting on a pair of pale blue gloves.

"Ah okay, that makes sense" Kyle said, now remembering Dr Kaur always wearing blue scrubs "It's nice to meet you Clarissa, I'm Sergeant Kyle Garrick"

"Nice to meet you too Sergeant" Clarissa said, giving him a big smile. Kyle watched as she moved over to the tray on the overbed table, grabbing the IV bag and hooking it onto the IV stand, and then moved to Soap's right hand, taking the stopper out of the cannula on the front of his hand, inserting a syringe with saline to flush the cannula.

"What's that you doin'?" Kyle asked curiously, peeking over to see what Clarissa was doing

"Just doing a saline flush, making sure any residual medicine is pushed into his vein, and prevents infection." She said, briefly looking over at Kyle's curious face.

"Ah I see" Kyle says "Did the operation go well?" He asked

Clarissa looked up. It was natural and normal for fellow soldiers to be perplexed about medical procedures, especially when their teammates were involved.

"The op went well, Dr Kaur and Dr Marie did their best" She said, not taking her eyes off the cannula as she attached the line of the IV bag.

Kyle hesisted a bit, his left leg began to shake rapidly, the heel of his boot making a rapid tapping sound against the vinyl floor. Clarissa looked down at his foot and then back up to Kyle's concerned face, sensing the oncoming trepidation.

"He got shot in the back" Kyle blurted without thinking, looking at Clarissa, who narrowed her eyes and then returned to the cannula, using an alcohol wipe to clear up the dirt between Soap's fingers.

Kyle wanted to smack his head against the wall. Stupid thing to say, of course she knew that he thought, turning away from Clarissa he rolled his eyes and brought his right hand to his face, running his forefinger and thumb across his brows.

Clarissa took her gloves off, and took a deep breathe in through the nose before exhaling through her mouth.

"The bullet was removed, there was a bit of nerve damage, but Dr Kaur did a neural graft. We won't know the full extent of any damages until he wakes up" She said to Kyle who still had his back to her.

Kyle turned back around

"He said he couldn't feel his legs on the helo" Kyle said, eyes glazed with tears as his mind took him back to the moment in the helo when Soap said those exact words to them.

Clarissa moved away from Soap and then walked around the bed, facing directly towards Kyle.

"You and your team did the best you could, the cellox was a great call, it definitely saved his life" She said, placing her hand on Kyle's shoulder.

Kyle felt a ripple of warmth wash over him as she placed her hand on him, he gazed at Clarissa, who smiled at him, he was struck by her striking beauty and kindness.

"It will take time, at the moment, it is a bit too early as he needs rest to aid recovery" Clarissa stated, smiling at Kyle. "We are keeping an eye on him, and we have the best doctors and nurses around in case anything happens" She added

Kyle's anxiety eased as she continued to reassure him that Soap would be okay.

"I suggest you also get some rest Kyle, I'll give you a call when he wakes up" She said

The continued reassurance and smiles that Clarissa gave him additional comfort. Kyle felt at ease.

"Thanks Clarissa, I'm sorry for barging in and lying" He said, looking guiltily at her

Clarissa laughed and smiled broadly which made Kyle's heart flutter as she gently tapped him on the the shoulder.

"Better get going, don't want to get in trouble" She said

"Ah I won't get in trouble don't worry" He said smiling back as he headed towards the door.

"Not worried about you! I'm saying me! Only authorised personnel are allowed in the ICU, especially not those covered in blood and dirt... no offence" Clarissa said, winking Kyle.

"Shit," Kyle said, realising he dragged his dirty combat boots into the ICU, breaking the clean protocol, he hurried to the door and opened the door, allowing Clarissa to walk through first who had whispered a thank you to him as she passed.

They walked out down the corridor back towards a now busy reception area.

Kyle turned to Clarissa who moved behind the reception desk, grabbing a whiteboard pen before scribbling the names of medicine and time administered on the row where Soap's name was. She turned towards Kyle who was still standing by reception.

"Thanks again Clarissa, you were really helpful" He said, smiling back.

"No problem Kyle, I promise to call you when he wakes up and when I get proper authorisation from either Dr Marie or Dr Kaur" She said, laughing slightly as Kyle widened his eyes at the mention of Dr Marie.

"You won't tell her-" He began

Clarissa's eyes widened and she shook her head as she noticed Dr Jones walk in behind Kyle.

"Clarissa, I need you to check on Miles in ward 3" He said not making any eye contact with her and moved towards the board.

"Yes sir" She said looking at him cautiously as he scanned the board "I'll speak to you later Kyle" She said finally before walking off. Kyle watched on as she walked off

"Bye Clarissa!" He yelled at her and laughed as she turned and gave him another wink.

Kyle walked back out the doors of the RAMC and basked in the sun that shone down on base. Relief washed over him as he took a big inhale through the nose. Checking his watching it was 1:36pm, he had been up for over 24 hours, and decided to take Clarissa's advice of getting some well deserved rest as he headed back to his quarters.

He hoped to see that dazzling smile soon.

#kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x oc #fan fic ideas #modern warfare fanfiction #cod fanfic #cod mw soap #modern warfare #cod mw2 gaz #gaz cod #gaz mw2 #kyle gaz garrick fluff #kyle gaz garrick mw2 #thoughtsandboneswrites #thoughtsandbones #cod fluff #cod mw gaz #gaz x f! oc

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thebonegoop · 2 months

Text

Summer Memories

Sitting down as I write this; I can hear the splashes of water from children making cannonballs in the neighbor's pool and the subsequent banshee-like screams of a pack of now-drenched mothers yelling at their kids. I'm also sneezing gunk like I'm having a demon exorcised from my body (The Zelda Rubinstein way, of course).

You may be asking yourself right now - Lincoln, what does that have anything to do with this post? Well, my dear Watson, it means summer we are just beginning another summer! So, for the inaugural post of The Bone Goop, I'll discuss eight great summer memories!

#1: Ice Cream Trucks

Okay, okay – Maybe I never had a traditional Ice Cream truck come down to my town – so sue me. I was raised in – said in my best George Burns Voice – God's Country—a place forgotten by all who didn't dwell there. But like an oasis in the desert, we did have one truck that came around town once a month - THE SCHWAN'S TRUCK. While serving primarily to adults looking for overpriced frozen steaks and vegetables, they did sell a minor assortment of ice cream goods. Let me tell you, orange cream push pops never tasted so good as when I bought one from the Schwan's man. He dressed in all white like Reggie from PHANTASM and would sometimes take pity on poor country kids by putting in an extra push pop for us to fight over like wild dogs.

#2: Summer Minutiae

I'm a big fan of waxing poetically about life, so only I could think back so nostalgically about the utter boredom summer can bring as a kid. We all remember the highs that summer can bring, but there is also beauty in the lows. While I'd take riding bikes with my friends any day, many summers were spent alone, bored in my mother's backyard garden, watching fish in the pond or imagining a safari adventure through her overgrown Pampas grass.

And if one was truly bored in the summer heat, find the closest slab of concrete and a bucket of chalk and spend your day expressing the inner Ar·teest inside of you.

#3: Water Parks!

I have a confession – I've almost drowned twice while visiting these water-themed wonderlands. I was 11 and full of youthful confidence in my swimming abilities as I stepped foot in Lexington's Pirate-themed water park during a trip with my best friend. That was until I was pinned underwater by a giant plastic riding Crocodile like I was in a Wrestling Federation match. It takes real love to enjoy something that tries to kill you.

#4: Sleepovers

As a kid, one of the best things about summer was the Sleepover with your buddies. A one-night no-holds bar contest of wills - fueled by junk food, movies, and chaos. We had it down to a science: Blanket forts, Hot Pockets on tap, Gameboy Colors holstered in our pockets ready with Pokémon (complete with link cables), and maybe most importantly the tape rentals. Setting the mood for the night was imperative, so finding the perfect movie was the priority. STAR WARS or JURASSIC PARK were the faithful standbys, but the best nights were when someone smuggled a VHS TV recording of ROBOCOP and HALLOWEEN. It was like sneaking contraband through airport security.

#5: Jackass

While the show was watched under cloak and dagger at night, my friends and I would often recreate the extraordinary stunts we saw during the day. Johnny Knoxville had a shopping cart, but we had a Big Wheel and trashcans! Hot summer days were spent building ramps up coal piles and flying off in terror. Hi, I'm Lincoln, and this is Jackass!

#6: Calling Your Bluff

Many of my formative summer years were spent at my neighbor's kitchen table playing various card games like Canasta and Poker or Scrabble. We didn't have air conditioning, so they'd make Kool-Aid pops out of plastic ice trays wrapped in plastic with toothpicks poking into each cube. These were MacGyver: The Adolescent Years.

#7: Yard Sales

Summer is Flea Market season, Baby! Truthfully, I don't make the time for Yard Sales like I used to, but rummaging through other people's trash was like second nature as a kid. So, it was even more devastating that my mom once went without me while I stayed with my grandparents.

The fogs of memory preclude me from knowing why, but I remember being extra grumpy about life while she was gone. The childhood vitriol melted instantly when she picked me up, and I saw the treasures she'd bought me – a pristine RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK VHS tape and a MONSTER IN MY POCKET figure!

#8: It's Good to Be King

Summer wasn't summer if it didn't include one trip to King's Island - the Ohio amusement park made of dreams and overworked costumed employees. At the time, every ride and character were made to resemble Hanna-Barbera properties. Having lunch with your partner is great, but having lunch with Scooby Doo AND Space Ghost? On top of riding roller coasters? That was pure magic.

The night was complete only if I bought a blue Candy Rock stick for the ride home. It was the perfect day (Ignore that everyone but me got Pinkeye on that trip.)

I hope these memories stirred up some of your own about the magic of Summer. Thanks!!

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wizardfrog69 · 2 years

Text

Name

This is fyodor x gn!reader, have fun

Cw: mentions of blood, death, using someone to ones advantage.

There was a familiar knock on the door, ‘come in’ a soft voice of a Russian-speaking man echoed in the room in a response to the knock. In came a person holding a tray with a mug holding a soup known as borscht, next to it was a plate with a dish by the name of croquette on it. ‘You should take breaks more often, dear.’ they spoke with a hint of concern. ‘I need to finish this first, myshka.’ the Russian replied, not bothered to address the worry of their partner. ‘Here I made you something to eat... you should eat more darling before you turn into nothing but skin and bones, then who am I going to love?’ “Myshka” responded to the unfaithful remark of the Russian man known as “dear” or “darling." They started walking towards the man, stepping over cables carefully to not drop the tray onto the floor. After placing the tray with the meal on the table “myshka” was asked to leave, to leave the Russian man alone, just like they did every day. They missed the hands which would wrap around their waist, despite the cold nature they always felt warm, they missed the softness of the man's hair between their fingers, smooth, soft, it always smelt nice, like vanilla. They missed the feeling of someone hugging them in their sleep, the late walks at night, and the coffee and tea they drank while sitting together in front of the fire during those cold Russian winters. It has been a couple of weeks living in the news lands of Japan, the atmosphere was severely different than the one back home, better in a way, it was warmer and yet it felt colder.

Myshka put on a coat and left, leaving to explore the beautiful streets of Yokoyama. Walking, visiting different shops, cafes, gardens, and anything which looked remotely interesting. After a long day of walking, thinking about their beloved "darling", they turn a corner, thinking there wouldn't be anything situated in an alleyway, they stumble upon a bar, and so they walk in. ‘hi! Excuse me do you speak English?’ Myshka asked in their broken Japanese, they never spoke in Japanese before now, not having many interactions with the outside world so they could spend at least a second with their beloved “Darling”. There was no response from the bartender about Myshka’s inquiry, nevertheless, another voice spoke. ‘He doesn't speak English.’ A Japanese man with brunette hair and hazel eyes to complement his hair, wearing what looked like a beige trench coat, mahogany brown pants, and a vest with a dress shirt underneath. The man looked up to Myshka and in less than a second he was in front of them, their hands in his, ‘would you like to die with me?’ beseeched the man. ‘Can I at least get a drink first?’ he looked a bit disappointed but then his earlier expression came back. ‘Order whatever you want!’ myshka looked away from the man to glance at the menu which was, unfortunately, for them written in Japanese. ‘What is there to order if I don't even know how to read in Japanese?’ ‘What do you usually get?’ ‘Just a beer’ the man later said something in Japanese which they could not understand. A beer was placed in front of them ‘how much do I pay?’ they asked the man once again. ‘Don’t worry about the bill’ and with a nod, they turned towards the bar and started drinking the beer. After sitting in comfortable silents for a while the man began to speak, ‘where are you from?’ Myshka was told by “darling” to never reveal their identity to anyone. Fortunately, Myshka knew more Slavic languages ‘Poland, Lublin.’ and so the conversation continued.

Looking back on the conversation, they forgot about their troubles and why they left in the first place. Their new so-called identity was this: a Pole coming from the streets of Lublin to visit Japan for a while, they were 24 years old and wanted to travel to a couple of countries before steeling down and getting a job. Now they found themselves Infront of the building hand opening the door. The inside was warmer than the outside by a seemingly three or five degrees Celsius. They took off their coat and waltzed into a dining area only to find the Russian man standing there like he was looking for something lost. Myshka ran up to him and hugged him tightly. ‘Where were you, I was looking for you, myshka.’ myshka felt happy to be, now, in the man’s arms, receiving the hug. Myshka hadn't received his affectionate in such a long time that they feared they had lost the feeling, but it came back, just as they remembered it. ‘I went for a walk.’ the man broke the hug and led the two of them to a coach, ‘Tell me about your travels in Yokoyama.’ his voice was warm, the opposite of what it was in the morning. ‘I found this cute cafe and the coffee is delightful...’ and so they kept talking about their day, leaving out the new friend they made. “darling” Listened with a slight smile on his face seemingly enjoying their rant about their day, in truth the Russian man did not care for them, what they did or drank, he just cared for one thing and that was controlling people to his advantage, his puppets.

‘Did you finish work?’ myshka asked, hope in their voice. ‘No, but I took your advice and wanted to spend my break with you.’ A smile appeared on myshka’s face, they were happy to hear he took a break and wanted to spend it with them. ‘I am tired so can we spend your break in bed?’ myshka offered. The Russian man nodded in response, he did feel tried, he always did but there was work to be done, and this was a part of the job, spending time with his puppet to keep their free will chained to his commands, it was his job, he was working, falling asleep while having a comfortable warm thing in his arms was all a part of the job, nothing more, nothing less, falling asleep was necessary for the job, he wasn't taking a break, he is working.

The sunlight hit the Russian man’s face, waking him up in the process, he opened his eyes and saw myshka, they were awake tracing shapes softly onto his chest. ‘Good morning, dear!’ myshka said enthusiastically. ‘Good morning.’ a small kiss was placed on Myshka's forehead as a greeting gesture, it felt nice, he liked this work and wished to stay like that for a while but there were more pressing matters, an organization found out he was in town, and they have a strong hatred for him. They were quite a strong organisation which discouraged him in sending his puppet out into the streets of Yokohama again, especially after the photographs of them, some of the photographs were pictures of them from their times in Russia, there were photographs of the two them walking through the snow covered park the first time they met, there were photographs of their family grave with their name added on, some photographs were resent while others were from five years ago or from their childhood years, a cassette tape was included with the hundred or so photographs, a transcript of the cassette tape accompanied it, the transcript was the Russian translation of what was said on the tape; the first twenty minutes of the tape was a familiar voice crying, the voice belonged to myshka, and then words were spoken in a unfamiliar language to him, ‘how far did you travel?’ a male voice spoke in what seemed to be Spanish, ‘twenty four hours, fifty nine minutes and twenty eight seconds’ myshka’s voice started to speak in the same language, ‘do you know why you’re here?’ ‘Because I killed your brother’ ‘yes but that’s not all you did, isn’t it?’ ‘I killed your brother, father, mother, grandmother, cousin, and pet goldfish’ ‘and why did you run' the next hour was silent, and the conversation was repeated in forty different languages with an hour break between each conversation, with a different male voice each language.

‘How many languages do you know myshka?’ “darling” asked at the table with a cup of coffee in his hand, ‘I think five, Russian, Polish, Czech, English, and Latin. Oh! And I'm learning Japanese ’ ‘Do you know any Spanish?’ ‘No. Why do you ask?’ ‘No reason, are you doing anything later on?’ ‘Maybe I’ll go and do some grocery shopping, would you like anything specific for dinner?’ ‘no.’ the natural silents filled the room again, it was as if all sound went deaf. The Russian man stood up and left for the office which crept into his mind making it his new home. A couple of hours went by when movement was last heard in the building, myshka had left the building to roam the Yokohama streets as they had previously said. The sound of a door opening, and plastic bags being placed on a table was proof to him that myshka had come back. The footsteps came closer to his door but instead of the familiar knock, there was the sound of paper sliding on the floor. He turned in his chair to find an envelope, opening it and reading the letter, he knew this wasn’t his puppet but someone else’s. It was their writing, but it wasn't them, the letter read: I am being held against my will at *****, please help me.

He was seemingly unfazed as always but there was a strange feeling in his breast as if someone was trying to rip his heart out. He left the room in a hurry and walked in a calm manner towards the and left.

He found himself at the address given, it was an alleyway but there seemed to be no one there. ‘You came and they told me you didn't love me and only saw me as your puppet.’ myshka’s weak voice sounded from the very end of the valley, hearing his puppet’s voice made the pain in his breast worse, yet he walked to the weak form in front of him. His puppet was sitting against the back wall, looking up to the Russian man, blood covering their physique. ‘What happened myshka?’ he said subconsciously kneeling to his puppet and took their hand in his, ‘say you love me’ ‘who'd done it.’ ‘Prove them wrong, say you love me.’ ‘I need to take you to a hospital.’ ‘I've seen enough death to know if someone going to survive... god I feel so tried’ the puppet spoke, weaker than before. He moved closer to their weak form and held their hand tightly, ‘you know I love you myshka.’ his eyes started to feel strange, ‘I love you too Fyodor...’ the spark in their eyes was gone. Their breath drew short before stopping, their life had stopped. Hearing his name being called with the last breath his puppet took felt... unfamiliar, suddenly his cheeks felt wet and there was a salty taste in his mouth. He stared at the body in his arms, he felt the pain in his breast become greater with every second which'd passed, his body started shaking, his warmth had turned cold.

This was kind of rushed, sorry if it's bad, I'm not used to writing shit like this, have a good day/night!

#fyodor x reader #bsd #bsd x reader #bsd fyodor #fyodor x y/n #pet names #this is bad #im bored #myshka #darling #dear #bungo stray dogs #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor #dostoevksy

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blubushie · 1 year

Note

Question for you: how do you go about transporting a kill back to Matilda? I’m curious about how a roo would be quartered/split up, if their hides are any good for leather, what you do with the guts and bones, etc. Basically, what happens after you make a kill? -🐟

So first and foremost, Jack owns the roo ute we use for this. It has a "rack" in the tray what we use for hanging the roos and dressing them. For the sake of this and the fact you mentioned Matilda specifically, I'm going to explain how this works for a non-commercial hunt. Here's a video of how it works commercially if you want to see that.

This is a gambrel.

The hooks on mine are sharpened for better penetration. They go in the hocks and snag at the Achilles' tendon, like this.

So the first thing I do is hunt the roo.

I drive Matilda as close as I can get to the carcass. Sometimes I'm far enough out into the bush that this isn't possible, so I'm stuck lugging ~60kg/130lbs of dead weight through the bush back to Matilda. If I think this is going to take more than an hour, I field-dress the carcass on the spot to avoid any bacteria what might be in him spoiling the meat. Roos weigh a lot less without their guts and stuff, but the downside of field dressing is that I get completely covered in blood dragging it back because I basically piggyback the roo on my shoulders (both front legs go over my shoulders and cross at the wrists over my throat, I tie them with rope and wear the roo like a cape as a I hump it back).

I'm writing this assuming I haven't already field-dressed the roo.

Once at Matilda, I find a good tree that looks sturdy and I set up the gambrel. I snag the gambrel in the roo's hocks and use a pulley system to bring him up off the ground like this.

Once that's done and he's hanging upside-down, it's time to get to work.

I take my KA-BAR and start cutting around his throat. I use a sawing motion (I keep my knives sharp) until I hit the vertebrae. I make my way around the neck until the vertebrae is the only thing keeping his head attached. Once that's done I bring him up so that I'm waist-level with the semi-decapitated head. I get my machete, line it up, and swing. Usually it only takes one swing to either break or cut through the vertebrae. Rarely it takes two. I've never had to make a third.

I grab the head by the ears and chuck it into the bushes. I don't like looking at it. I repeat the same process with the tail. Cut, align, whack. The tail is left for Misty to chew on. Keeps her from trying to get into the viscera.

The machete gets put away for now.

Next I get the hopper choppers--a pair of cable cutters. I dock off the hind legs above the Achilles and the front legs at the elbows.

I use a gutting knife, like this. The hook is important.

I take my gutting knife, start at his knackers or her package, and start cutting in. I keep it shallow so I don't nick the bladder. Once I can get two fingers (right hand) in him and the knackers are removed, I put the blade between my pointer and middle fingers (still right hand) and snag the hook in him and slowly pull down like I'm unzipping him. The viscera comes tumbling out. I lower the roo so the stump of the neck almost touches the ground. I take the machete, align it with the bottom of the sternum, lay my shin over it, and use my body weight to cut downward. This cuts through the sternum and into his throat. Most of the viscera hits the ground at this point and I use the gutting knife to detach the intestines from the anus, then cut through the anus and downward until the cut meets where I've already carved. I make my way down the back wall of the body cavity along the spine, cutting the rest of the intestines, lungs, and heart free. This is the bloodiest part of the whole deal and usually the point when I get splattered.

The insides of bodies smell weird. Raw. I can't describe it.

The skin comes off next. I make a ring along the hocks and cut down, thigh-to-thigh, until I reach the groin. For this I use the tip of my gutting knife, since it's also a skinning knife. I work the skin on both legs free until I reach the arse, and then I pull downward. The skin peels off. It feels like peeling orange and sounds similar. If the roo is a real big bloke with skin that won't separate easily, sometimes I'll use a piece of rope to knot the hide and then tie that onto the hitch of Matilda and floor it.

It should come off in one piece, and I inspect the carcass to make sure it comes off in one piece.

When it comes to a commercial harvest, all I do it dock the legs, head, and field dress. I don't skin. That's the butcher's job. I quarter carcasses the way Jack does, which consists of treating it the same way I would a pig carcass.

I get my esky.

I take his foreleg, stretch it out, and use the KA-BAR to cut through the foreleg, around the shoulder, and separate it from the body. It goes into the esky. I repeat the process with the other leg. Then I take my knife and start under the hindquarters and come down the side, I grab the muscle here, and pull as I cut away along the spine. That's the backstrap. Goes in the esky. Next is the tenderloin. I cut down the inside cavity along the spine, grab the muscle, and cut it free. Goes in the esky. I take the machete, grab the ribs, and start hacking like I'm hammering a nail to separate them from the spine. Goes in the esky. Then I use the KA-BAR to separate the legs from the spine, and they go in the esky. After that I'm done and it's just a matter of cutting individual pieces of meat whenever I'm ready to make dinner. I'll wash off my hands, wash the meat and put it in the fridge/freezer, have a beer and maybe a smoke, and relax for the evening. I usually cook the tenderloins first since that's my favourite piece of meat on a roo. They cook fast and you have to eat them rare. Kangaroo meat doesn't withstand cooking to medium. Sometimes I'll use a skillet but in my experience they're best over a campfire on a grill. The wood smoke adds to the flavour.

The hide, guts, and head gets left behind for scavengers since it's no use to me. Very rarely I'll buy a fuckton of salt and lay the hide out and flesh it (scraping it with the skinning knife to remove any meat). Then I rub salt on it, roll it up, and shove it in a rubbish bag. I give the hides to Jack. Misty gets to chew on any stray bones, and I dock the tip of the tail, skin it, and give it to her as a treat which she loves.

And yes, kangaroo leather is great! It's ten times as strong as cow hide and my hat is actually made of kangaroo leather (except for the band which is 100% crocodile). Misty's lead is also made of braided kangaroo leather for added strength/durability. My vest, boots, most of my sheaths, and my quiver are all made of kangaroo leather.

#blu whos #blu slew

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aparna2024 · 3 months

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pentag · 3 months

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🟣Multiverstar Modded - Update 3.0: Forming of the Fleet - Now live!

The mod pack has been updated

All of the newly added mods are now included in Multiverstar Modded Mod pack . Please update your local mod pack by pressing “Subscribe to all” before connecting to the server!

Update notes

New expansion

New playable species

Alta

Arachne

Indix

Kobold

Kyterrans

Lastree

Mannikin

Nightars

NostOS

Ryophi

Skelekin

Squamaeft

New character creation options

More Idle poses

Bright Orcana Colors

Bunnykin Pastel Colours ADD

Vibrant Colours for Bunnykin ADD

Arcana's Human Hairstyle

Arcana's Aegi Hairstyle

Arcana's Kitsune Hairstyle

More Slime Hairs (Only Add)

New Avali content

Avali Plus

Avali Augments And Assorments: Revisited

Better Ships - Avali Walls

Avali mannequin

New clothing and armor mods

Dresses n Skirts Pack

Suits n Stuff Pack

Scientist Outfit Pack

Skittle's Christmas Goodies

Wings and Things

New Protectorate Gear

Expanded Protectorate Gear

Tacticool Gear Pack

HOUND Fashion 0.9.3

New wigs

Skittles Ultimate Wig Pack

Empress Wigs - ANY VERSION

Demon Horns Wig Variations and Hairstyle

Cyberpunk Stylist (Wigs & Hairstyles)

New weapon mods

Expanded Magnorbs

Swords Unite: Durandal

Swords Unite: Ferozium Katana

Swords Unite: Violium Katana

Swords Unite: Solarium Saber

Solarium Cannon

Adaptive Coffee Launcher

Tommy Guns

The Dyeable Flamethrower Mod

Tanks!

New functionality

Capture's Pod (The pet system from Pandora's Box)

Craftable Concoctions

Cosmetic drinks

Field Control Technology

Planet Search

Planet Transponder

Quantum Stable Item Frames

The Bookstore (Also sells official server lore!)

Universal Liquid Source (Normally unobtainable, only spawnable!)

New alternative crafting stations and reskins

New blocks and platforms

Better Chains, Alternative

Engine Blocks & Cables [Updated IDs]

Extra Materials

Platform Hatches

New decoration

Neki Furniture - Standalone

Tidalbelt's Astronomical Models

Unwrecked: Refurbished Goods

Vertical Ship Thrusters

More Teasets

Because just tea sets are not enough!

New food and drinks

A Freakin Noodle Vendor

Coolesterol - Stuff for machines to vend

Diabetuus - Stuff for machines to vend

New Frackin' Music addons

Arcana Frackin Music Addon

Maple Music Fracking Addon

Quality of Life changes

Peacekeeper Space Station Teleporters

Refinery Expansion

Extras

Give the avian oculemonade

Solarium Fishing Rod (and lure and reel)

Terramart employee change?!

Looks like the Floran got bored of her job. An Avian has taken over.

Lots of fixes and changes to ensure the best possible player experience!

Yes, growing bubbulbs in a growing tray no longer crashes the game. :)

Please note that not all of the above mods' contents will be available on Multiverstar Modded due to legal and community reasons!Unavailable items show up in-game as a "Perfectly Unavailable Item".

For the full list of added mods, check out https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=3044400052

We have a new Spawn!

Many thanks to Dex, Zeta and Chronos for having built it!

Quick Start - Patches

Updated BYOS - Multiversal megapatch

Updated Multiverstar Modded - SIP megapatch

Unlinked the Tanz Lighting Overhaul patches collection. If you were using those patches, please unsubscribe from them and use the one below!

Added:

Quick Start - Wardrobe patches

Added a large amount of addons

Quick Start - Instant Crafting Patches

Added SCS Stations: Instant Crafting Add-on

Quick Start - Other

Added Planet Search

#starbound #modded starbound #multiplayer #online multiplayer #multiverstar modded #game server #update post #update #announcement #steam workshop #starbound modding #quick start #patch #patch notes

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sudheervanguri · 3 months

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Sri Krishna Pharmaceuticals Walk-In Drive for Maintenance Roles Introduction Sri Krishna Pharmaceuticals, a leader in the pharmaceutical industry, is conducting a walk-in drive for various maintenance positions. This drive aims to recruit skilled professionals for Electrical, Mechanical, Utility, Instrumentation, and Fitter roles. Qualified candidates with relevant experience are invited to attend the walk-in interviews from 11th to 14th June 2024 at Uppal, Hyderabad. Event Details Interview Dates: 11th June 2024 to 14th June 2024 Time: 10:00 AM to 02:00 PM Venue: Sri Krishna Pharmaceuticals Ltd, Unit-I, IDA C-4, Industrial Area, Uppal, Hyderabad. Positions Available Electrical Department Designation: Technician to Junior Engineer Qualification: ITI/Diploma (Electrical) Experience: 2 to 10 years (API) Responsibilities: Electrical breakdown maintenance Electrical units and consumption costing Electrical maintenance of D.G. sets Cable laying, tray laying, crimping, dressing, and routing works Calibration of plant instruments Preventive and breakdown maintenance of electrical equipment Audit exposure Instrumentation Department Designation: Technician to Assistant Engineer Qualification: ITI/Diploma/B.Tech (Electronics/Instrumentation) Experience: 2 to 10 years (API) Responsibilities: Preventive and breakdown maintenance of instruments Calibration of instruments Handling HMI & PLC related problems Mechanical (Utility) Department Designation: Technician to Junior Engineer Qualification: Diploma (Mechanical) Experience: 2 to 10 years (API) Responsibilities: Utility maintenance Boiler maintenance and consumption costing Maintenance of chillers, HVAC Documentation experience Fitters Department Designation: Fitter Qualification: ITI (Fitter) certificate mandatory Experience: 2 to 15 years in the API industry Responsibilities: General fitter duties in an API industry Documents Required Candidates are required to bring the following documents: Updated CV Passport size photo Copies of educational documents Aadhar & PAN card Latest CTC document 3 months’ payslips 3 months’ bank statement Application Information Contact: Email your resumes to Jayakishore Gollapalli at [email protected] [caption id="attachment_58448" align="aligncenter" width="930"] Sri Krishna Pharma: Walk-In Drive for Production Roles in Hyderabad[/caption]

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jargonautical · 5 months

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Somewhere To Be / A chapter at a time

The chapel and the tinker

ALFRISCOMBE SHRINE, 1654

THE SHRINE HAD been there for as long as anyone could remember, marking the spot where the spring bubbled up through the rocks; a single standing stone as tall as a man with grey-green lichen filling its carved spirals, and a second stone laid flat at its foot like an altar. There used to be a third stone but that was smashed to pieces years ago, its scattered fragments buried somewhere in the weeds.

Some villagers kept to the old ways still. Desiccated posies bore testament, dark splashes of wine in clay cups, and antlers hanging off nearby branches like a particularly gruesome crop. All to be cleared away now at the baron’s command, all of it; the stones, the rotting timber hut behind, and those disgusting relics as well. No superstitious peasant nonsense must remain to sully this holy site.

As the ground was cleared, the remaining stones pushed over and broken down, a wanderer emerged from the forest path. Tall and swarthy with a heavy pack on his back, he looked like any other gypsy the stonemason ever saw; but since he was a decent man at heart he wished him a good day, enquiring after his health and his travels, even offering a cup of water and a bite of his own meal if the man would care to share.

It bore an unexpected dividend, and not just the warming gleam in the tinker’s eyes as he stepped out of the shadows. He accepted the water gratefully but wouldn’t take more than a sip. “Your men will be needing this more.” he said with a glance up at the sun. “As for your meal, let me contribute.” From the depths of his pack he produced a well-wrapped haunch of venison and cheerfully shared it around. “It’ll spoil before I can finish it.” he insisted against their protests. “It’s you who’s doing me the favour, or would you have this go to waste?”

Over the meal they were happy to discuss the chapel’s plans, since the fellow was so polite and so curious. He particularly admired the design for the roof bosses, a rosette with deep-cut petals that the mason was particularly pleased with. Just as well, as four dozen in all would be needed for the ambitious vaulted ceiling before they’re done, and a few gargoyles besides.

“It’ll be a fine chapel indeed.” the tinker said with a lopsided grin, “If it ever gets finished.”

Long afterwards the mason reflected on that day; it seemed from the moment the tinker said those words, nothing went right. Sinking foundations, cracking lintels, and collapsing walls - before too long the men flatly refused to return to work, even for triple pay. Some curse lingers over the site, they agreed, and as soon as other jobs arose they moved on with relief.

The chapel fell to ruin so quickly you’d barely know there’d ever been a structure there at all. Fine dressed stone gradually got robbed away for doorsteps and windowsills and mounting blocks until there was nothing left but a tumbled mossy outline of the tower base. A generation past you’d barely know it was there unless your horse stumbled on one of the hidden stones. The only sign a chapel was ever planned was the jeering stone demon carved by the stonemason after a heavy night drinking the tinker’s ale. Its twisted grin seemed to be mocking the whole endeavour, perched up on the wall where he left it until the brambles eventually claimed it.

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DAY ONE OF the dig dawns on a fine sunny morning. Rain clouds are massing out to sea, but with barely any breeze it’ll be hours before they reach the museum.

The site manager consults her clipboard - mainly for show, since she knows everything is in place, from the permits acquired and carefully entered into the system to the license for the skip out in the drive right through to decades of blueprints consulted in case of underground cables. The interns are busy stacking find trays and hand tools ready beside the paved path bordering the lawn. On the other side of the garden wall a catering truck is dispensing a breakfast fit for people with serious work to do; bacon rolls, crumbling dark fruitcake by the slice, scalding builder’s tea in chipped china mugs. ‘Vegan Option’s Available On Request’ according to a handwritten addition to the menu, but a second bulk pack of bacon is already out to defrost in anticipation of the morning’s bestseller.

Approaching eight thirty the lawn fills with people shouting incomprehensible instructions at each other, collecting cones and pulling up stakes, winding up orange tape as they go to clear the way for the backhoe rumbling along from the main driveway.

Archchancellor Cooper himself has graced the occasion, a forty-something man with the shaved head and solid build of a prop forward and with much the same immovable air. Despite his bulk he’s wearing a beautifully-cut suit in heavy charcoal wool; spotless white cuffs emerge precisely half an inch from his jacket sleeves, no more and no less, and the silk tie around his thick neck displays the colour blocks and badge of the local Rotary Club. He’s not here to dig, obviously; the presence of the local newspaper signals he’s here to be photographed shaking hands and possibly holding a polished silver trowel that’s never touched dirt.

Mainder maintains a low-key brooding presence somewhere on the edge of the action, leaning against the high stone wall that borders the lane on the far side. He wasn’t expecting roll-away-the-stone levels of discovery, but despite the scattered cheers from the assembled crowd it’s distinctly anticlimactic. The driver takes up position and, with a theatrical hand raised high for all to see, brings it down on the lever to lower the bucket. It’s some skill, delicately breaking the surface and cutting a neat strip of turf, that he grudgingly agrees is worthy of applause. But after that it’s just doing the same thing another three times before turning the backhoe in a neat manoeuvre and trundling back across to the driveway. The trench is begun, six feet long and roughly the same wide, and all of three inches deep.

Mainder takes a hint from a sudden unobtrusive bustle, of multiple people realising there’ll be nothing more to see for several hours, all simultaneously and spontaneously deciding they have something they just need to go and check on and good Lord, is that the time?

He himself has nowhere in particular to be, but there’s no point loitering in this spot until something is uncovered. The office looks to be open for the day already, a suitable haven, and no sign of the girl yet.

Good. He’s more than a little uncomfortable with what it might say about his psyche that he’d be dreaming a half-naked woman-child into his midnight bed. That requires some self-reflection, ideally before he next has to look her in the eye. He claims the couch and stretches out for a power nap, still fuzzy from his pre-dawn waking.

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

“Ssshhhh.” Chris mimes as Evie comes through the door. “You’ll wake the baby.”

Confused, she follows his glance to see Mainder stretched out on the couch. “Wow.” she mouths, and moves up the room. “He really made himself at home, didn’t he?”

“I know, right? I keep wanting to fetch him a blanket.”

Sleeping Mainder is a treat to behold, she has to admit. The brooding tension that he usually radiates is entirely absent, with his lean face perfectly relaxed and his long body twisted awkwardly half-on and half-off that much-too-short couch. He looks - there’s that word again, safe, when all the information so far suggests he’s anything but.

#a chapter at a time #fantasy #fiction #somewhere to be #books #booklr #reading #faerie #storygraph #goodreads

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self-careandself-love · 7 months

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Organize Your Life: DIY Organization Hacks for Every Space

Welcome to a world of clutter-free bliss! Say goodbye to chaos and hello to harmony with our collection of DIY organization hacks designed to transform your home into a haven of order and tranquility. From clever storage solutions to innovative space-saving ideas, discover how to declutter, streamline, and organize every area of your life with style and ease.

1. Introduction: Embrace the Joy of Order

Step into a world where everything has its place and every space radiates peace and serenity. Our DIY organization hacks will revolutionize the way you think about clutter, offering practical solutions that are as functional as they are stylish. Whether you're tackling a cluttered closet, a chaotic kitchen, or a messy office, these simple yet ingenious tips will help you reclaim control of your space and restore balance to your life.

2. Closet Cleanout: Mastering Wardrobe Organization

Bid farewell to wardrobe woes with our expert tips for organizing your closet like a pro. Learn how to declutter your clothes, shoes, and accessories, and create a system that maximizes space and efficiency. From installing double-hanging rods to using shelf dividers and drawer organizers, discover how to make the most of every inch of closet space and ensure that getting dressed is a joy rather than a chore.

3. Kitchen Konmari: Simplify Your Culinary Kingdom

Transform your kitchen into a culinary oasis with our DIY organization hacks for the heart of your home. Say goodbye to cluttered countertops and overflowing cabinets, and hello to a streamlined space that inspires creativity and efficiency. Learn how to organize your pantry, fridge, and cabinets with clever storage solutions such as stackable bins, spice racks, and drawer organizers. With a well-organized kitchen, meal prep becomes a breeze and cooking becomes a pleasure.

4. Workspace Wonders: Conquer Clutter in Your Home Office

Boost productivity and creativity in your home office with our DIY organization hacks for a clutter-free workspace. Discover how to tame unruly cords, corral loose papers, and create designated zones for work and storage. From installing floating shelves and pegboards to using desk organizers and cable management solutions, you'll create an environment that fosters focus, creativity, and inspiration.

5. Bathroom Bliss: Elevate Your Self-Care Sanctuary

Transform your bathroom into a luxurious retreat with our DIY organization hacks for a spa-worthy space. Say goodbye to cluttered countertops and overflowing cabinets, and hello to a serene oasis of calm and relaxation. Learn how to maximize storage space with over-the-door organizers, under-sink caddies, and tiered trays. With everything in its place, your bathroom becomes a sanctuary where you can unwind and recharge after a long day.

6. Conclusion: Embrace the Power of Order

As we conclude our journey through the world of DIY organization hacks, remember that a clutter-free space is more than just aesthetically pleasing—it's also a reflection of a calm and balanced mind. By embracing the principles of order and organization, you'll not only create a more functional and efficient home but also cultivate a sense of peace and tranquility that extends to every aspect of your life. So roll up your sleeves, unleash your creativity, and embark on a journey to a more organized and harmonious home today!

"Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful." - William Morris

"Ready to take action? Our website offers actionable steps and tools related to this Fitness.

#DIY organization hacks

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sinner-as-saint · 4 years

Text

Yes to Heaven.

Ransom Drysdale x Housekeeper!Reader AU

Run-through: You work for Ransom Drysdale. And the spoiled, notorious bad boy has had his eyes on you since day one. He wants you, bad. But you keep telling him no in the fear of losing your job should he be displeased by something you did. And it drives him insane because the one thing Ransom Drysdale isn’t used to hearing is ‘no’. You try resisting him, but not for long. He can be arrogant and bossy, but also charming and seductively persuasive. Ransom makes it his mission to make you give in. Then again, how long could you say no to such a man, one whose deep, ocean blue eyes held nothing but mischief and a little bit of heaven…

Themes: smut, teasing, spanking, dom!ransom, fluff, edging using toys, dirty talk

a/n: this is long.

“Good morning, Mr. Drysdale.”

You greeted him the moment you saw him entering the kitchen, already dressed up for the day. He showed up wearing a particular cream colored sweater - one you thought suited him a lot. Ransom always had the ability to make your heart race, mainly because you and him always had this strong, intimate tension in between you two, and also because he was a shameless flirt and he made it very clear that he wanted you. Bad.

He sighed. “Ransom. Call me Ransom.” This would be probably the hundredth time he said so. He was dying to hear his name fall off your lips, but you never quite gave him the satisfaction. You just nodded and went back to doing whatever it is you were doing, he couldn’t tell what you were busy with because he himself was busy eyeing you up and down like it was no one’s business.

He took a seat at the kitchen island, pouring himself some coffee from the fresh pot you had just made; like you did each morning. The more he looked at you, the more he had to shift around in his seat. You always looked so damn good. And the little apron you always wore was like a cherry on top; unknowingly teasing the hell out of him.

As you kneaded the dough, you could tell he was too quiet today. Usually by now he would have complimented you endlessly, or asked you out shamelessly, or passed some sort of flirty commentary. So you waited for it.

He got off the stool and walked over to where you stood. “You look gorgeous.” He spoke. And his voice sent shivers dancing down your spine. Not just because of the tone he used, but also because of the proximity. He was closer, you could tell. And something told you that if you took a small step backwards, your back would hit his strong chest. You froze in place.

Ransom always made you nervous. You would be lying if you said that you didn’t have a crush on the handsome man as well. Whenever he was around, the butterflies in your stomach came alive again, out of nowhere. It didn’t help at all that he was in fact, drop dead gorgeous. He could have any woman he wanted, but for quite a while now he was persistent - making it very obvious that he wanted you. Just you. And you didn’t quite know how to act around him now that you had that information.

But you had to keep saying no because, well, you worked for him. You couldn’t risk this job, nor could you afford to make things awkward between you and your boss.

You were knuckle-deep into the dough when you felt his strong arms wrap around you from behind. He inched closer and closer until his chest pressed against your back. He had done this before, so you tried to get over the sudden display of affection and kept on kneading the dough. You heard him groan under his breath.

“Why do you always ignore me like this?” He asked softly, his lips so close to your ear that with each word you felt them brush faintly against the shell of your ear.

You cracked a little smile, feeling just a little ticklish. “I don’t. I just have a lot of work to do.” You spoke as you shaped the dough into a ball and wrapped it to let it rest, for later use. You moved away from the counter and he let you go for a moment. But when you moved to the sink to wash your hands, he walked over and hugged you from behind again.

“Your hair always smells so sweet.” He took the liberty of burying his face into your hair and inhaled the scent of your shampoo.

You smiled and chose not to encourage him by keeping quiet. You reached for a towel to dry your hands while turning around to face him. “Will you be having breakfast, or are you leaving for work?” Most days, he left without breakfast but since he was still lingering around and being all touchy and feely this morning, you assumed that he had time to eat.

He gave you a playful smile. “I’ll eat.”

“Alright then, give me a few minutes.” The chef didn’t come to work today, so it was all up to you. You got to work immediately, avoiding his eyes and grabbing all the appliances and utensils you would need for his go-to breakfast - buttermilk pancakes topped with peanut butter, fresh fruit and whipped cream. Despite the broody man he was normally, Ransom Drysdale actually had a sweet tooth.

He lingered around for a bit more, then left the kitchen. You assumed he must have gone upstairs to his study. You let out a sigh as you assembled the pancake batter into a bowl. He was definitely making it hard for you. Something about the way he touched you made you all crazy inside. This had been going on for months now. And each day you pretended like you weren’t affected by him at all. When in reality, you probably wanted him just as much as he wanted you. But it wasn’t so easy. You worked for him, this could never work the way he wanted it too.

A little while later, you had his breakfast ready and brought it upstairs to him. Extra whipped cream too, just how he liked it. You knocked on the door before stepping in and you found him deep in concentration, dealing with paperwork. His brows furrowed as he focused on some paper in his hand.

You cleared your throat. He turned his head to look over at you. “Hi.” He spoke softly.

You gave him a smile and walked over to him, placing the tray down on his desk while carefully avoiding any important papers. “Would you like some more coffee?” You asked.

He shook his head, “No. Thank you, Y/N.” He noticed the way he caught you off guard when he uttered your name.

Somehow he made it sound magical. You tried your hardest to maintain your calm and composure, and not make it obvious while you checked him out because he sure did look irresistible in the cable-knit sweater he wore.

You smiled and turned around to leave but then he called out after you.

“Wait.”

You turned and walked up to him again. “Yes?” you asked, politely as usual.

So polite in fact that it only made him want to undress you and take you to his bed and make you scream his name for hours on end. “You’ve got a little something there,” he pointed at your mouth, or chin. You couldn’t really tell. You reached up to touch your face with the back of your hand and tried to wipe away whatever there was, but when you checked the back of your hand again, there was nothing on there.

“I’m pretty sure there’s n-,”

Ransom cut you off by dipping his forefinger into the whipped cream then shamelessly smearing it on your face, right by the side of your mouth and down till your chin. “Right there, see.” He pulled his hand away from your face and smirked. “Such a messy girl,” he circled an arm around your waist and pulled your closer. “Now I have to clean you up, don’t I?” He whispered quietly before leaning in with nothing but mischief in his baby blue eyes.

Your hands instinctively rested upon his shoulder and the other slid into his hair as you felt his soft, warm lips against your face. Gently licking your skin clean. You gasped as he licked and sucked and nibbled on your skin, from the side of your lips down to your chin and back up again. You felt tingly all over, especially in between your legs. His hands wrapped around your body, pressing you further into him while his lips purposely didn’t touch you right where you wanted him to.

You craved to know what he tasted like. You wanted his lips on yours, so much so that when he teasingly licked along the side of your mouth, you let out an involuntary moan. He smirked, moving his lips right on top of yours. Not close enough to kiss you, but enough to make your heart race in need. You could feel each puff of his breaths, mingling with your own.

Ransom knew what he was doing. You keep resisting him, even though he knew that you wanted him just the same. So he was going to do what he does best; tease you in the most sensual ways for as long as it takes for you to give in to him, as well as your own desires.

He planned on teasing you until you cannot take it anymore. Until you beg him to satiate your burning desire. To take care of your sinful needs. He wanted you to willingly ask him to fuck you and not stop until you can’t physically take it anymore.

“There,” he mumbled in a satisfactory tone, “all cleaned up.” His lips brushed against your own very faintly as he spoke. And it only fueled the fire inside you, which you didn’t know had been burning since the moment you stepped into this room.

He had barely touched you and here you were, all hot and bothered. You pulled away first, breathless and a little disappointed. Looking up into his blue eyes you found nothing but victory, mischief and a little bit of heaven in there.

He knew the kind of effect he had on you for sure. He was teasing you, on purpose. Waiting for you to give in. But you didn’t plan on doing so that easily.

Ransom smirked, waiting for you to break. But you didn’t. You stepped out of his embrace. “Well then, thank you Mr. Drysdale. Anything else?” you asked, pretending as if the past few minutes didn’t happen and ignoring the sweet ache in between your hips as best you could.

Ransom knew you would still play it cool, and he did expect that you would pretend as if he hadn’t just set your whole body on fire just with the touch of his lips. “No, that would be all.” He answered with a smirk.

You left the room at once, rushing to the kitchen and trying to calm your short breaths and your racing heart. You grabbed a paper towel and wet it under the tap before wiping the stickiness of the whipped cream from your face. Fuck… you could still feel his lips on your skin. So close, so close to your own lips.

Ransom walked around with a smug look on his face for the entire day. And each time he saw you, all he had to do was stare at you for a bit and you would visibly shiver under his gaze. Each time you saw him, the scene in his study replayed in your head. He was so much harder to resist now.

You thought of him on your way home that day. Despite the slightly colder winds of the evening hitting your face as you walked home, you could still feel his soft, warm lips on your face. You could tell he was going to make this very hard for you.

Indeed he was.

The next day, you walked into his home feeling all nervous and tingly. Mainly because you knew you’d see him in just a few minutes, but also, you were lowkey looking forward to seeing how he’d choose to mess with you today.

Surprisingly, you didn’t see him all morning. The butler let you know that he was rather busy today, and had been all morning. Oh, you thought, perhaps if he was so engrossed in work he wouldn’t pay you much attention. So when time came to go up and bring him his lunch, you went without any worries or nervousness.

If he was drowning in paperwork, he would barely notice your presence. As everyone knew, nothing else mattered to him when he was working. The world around him could be burning to ashes and he wouldn’t care as long as it allowed him to get work done.

You walked upstairs and found Ransom, as expected, working in his study. You tried to make as little noise as possible as you walked into the room and placed his tray of food on the coffee table by the couches, not far from his desk.

You picked up a glass and were filling it with water when you suddenly felt a warm puff of breath against the back of your neck.

“You look cute with your hair up in a ponytail like this.” Ransom murmured into your ear, his voice low and deep; enough to make your hands shake and cause you to spill some of the water onto the wooden flooring of his study. He tsked at your unintentional mistake. “You made a little mess, sweetheart.” He pointed out. “Won’t you clean it up?” he cooed, urging you do so.

You could pick up on the mischievous tone of his voice. You refused to talk, because you were sure that your voice would shake just like your hands if you did. So you just nodded. He was too close, barely touching you and yet, he was making you go all crazy.

You leaned down to pick up a paper towel and then lowered to your knees to wipe the mess on the floor. You noticed he remained standing by you as you did so.

“Look at me.” He spoke again. His voice was soft and gentle, yet demanding. And you remained on your knees as you tilted your head up to look at him. He tilted his head down, and to the side a little and admired you with a playful smirk on his face.

He reached out and touched your face gently, his knuckles stroking your cheeks lazily. You shivered again. All he did was touch your face, yet he was able to make you feel things you had never before.

“So pretty…” He looked into your eyes intensely as his thumb soon moved to touch your soft lips gently. He traced the shape of your mouth and slowly pushed his thumb past your lips, into your warm mouth. “You like this, don’t you?” He said as you instinctively took his thumb into your mouth, wrapping your lips around it and stroking it with your tongue immediately. “That’s a good girl…” he muttered quietly, breathlessly, as you sucked on his finger with nothing but a nervous, yet playful look in your eyes. “Something tells me you like being on your knees, sweetheart.” He cooed, and something grew hotter and hotter inside you. Ransom chuckled at how you almost whimpered.

“You look so pretty,” those words from him made you almost squirm. “But,” he removed his thumb from your mouth and traced your lips again; a little harsher this time, “You’re being such a messy girl lately. You need to be reminded that that’s not acceptable behavior, hmm?” He spoke in that soft, yet stern voice.

Messy? Both times you were ‘messy’ these past two days have been because of him. What does he mean, ‘messy’?

“But you-,”

He cut you off quickly. “Ah,” he placed his forefinger against your parted lips, asking you to stay quiet. “Don’t talk back.” He moved his hand from your face and held it out for you to take. “Now come on, up.”

You took his hand and stood up, ignoring the ache in between your hips again.

“Bend over.” He said, pointing towards his desk, not far from where you stood.

You were a little surprised, a little turned on, and just a little bit nervous. “I… what?”

Ransom smirked. “You heard me. I said, bend over.” He pointed to the desk again. Without another word said, with every fibre of your body on fire and every part of you wanting him, you walked over to his desk and bent over the side of the large, sturdy wooden desk of his. You placed your elbows down on the surface of the desk and supported yourself up, sticking your butt out.

Your heartbeats rang in your ears, and you let out a whimper when you felt his hands on either side of your butt; caressing it gently.

He heard your whimper and leaned over to whisper in your ear, “Do you want me to stop, sweetheart?”

Fuck no.

“No.” You answered a little too quickly. And he chuckled.

“Good girl.” He stood up straight again. He noticed you were wearing a cute, little white sundress today. Perfect, he thought. He slowly lifted the skirt of your dress up and you shivered again when the slightly colder air hit your legs.

But then you felt his warm hands massaging your butt cheeks through your flimsy, white underwear. You knew instantly what was coming. And your heart raced just waiting for it.

“Count to five for me, sweetheart.” He spoke softly. You nodded.

You waited. He lifted his hand up in the air and brought it back down to spank your ass. You yelped in surprise, and almost giggled right after. It didn’t hurt at all, in fact it left behind pleasant tingles. Oh, you forgot you had to count. “One.”

Pleased with the response he got, Ransom did it again, allowing his hand to linger on your skin a little longer this time, caressing where his hand landed. “Two.”

“This will teach you not to be such a messy girl, hmm?”

“Three.” You said, almost moaning at how good it felt, and heard him chuckle. You knew that he could very well see just how drenched your underwear had gotten, since you stepped into this room a while ago.

“You’re dripping already.” He pointed out.

You could hear him smirking. He lifted his hand and spanked you again. “Four.” You whined, in pleasure. Again. “Five.” You whimpered again, in pleasure and at the tingly sensation which took over your whole body. Oh how you wanted more…

He allowed his hands to linger on your butt for a while longer, just massaging your now hot skin. “Such a good girl,” he whispered as he pulled your dress back down and pulled you up against him, pushing his face into the crook of your neck, kissing your skin incessantly. “I know you want more, sweetheart. Just say it.” he kissed along your throat, up till your ear. “Just ask for it, and I will take really, really good care of you.” His voice gave away his fervent need.

His words made you whimper again, in need. You could just say yes right now and let him give you all that you wanted. But then, your job…

“Ransom…” you gasped as he nibbled on your skin. “We can’t…” you forced yourself to resist him yet again.

He was reluctant, but he let you go. He allowed you to step out of his embrace. And eventually let you walk out of the room. He let out a loud, defeated and frustrated sigh once you left. There was so much he could give you, so much he could show you. Why do you keep pushing him away when you want him just as much as he wants you?

For the rest of the day, each time you saw him you either turned the other way and pretended to be busy or you lowered your eyes; unable to face him and groaned internally as you walked past him as fast as you could.

He could tell you were conflicted regarding your own feelings. But each time he tried to start a conversation regarding it, you would just make up some excuses and leave the room. Almost like you were punishing him for something he hadn’t done.

And that only made him want you even more. So much so that his mind concocted more devilish ways to mess with you.

The following morning, Ransom was up early and excited. He came downstairs and found you dusting in the extravagant dining room which he never used.

“Good morning.” He greeted you first, given you hadn’t yet acknowledged his presence.

You turned around sheepishly and whispered, “Good morning, Mr. Drysdale.” You sounded more shy than you intended, then again that was probably just the effect of him being in the same room as you.

Also, his voice brought back the memories of yesterday. Of the time spent in his study. You thought about it all night long, and it made you all hot and bothered again.

Ransom walked up to you, with something in his hand. But you were under the spell of his deep blue eyes and you didn’t dare look down. He approached you and leaned in to kiss your cheek, dangerously close to your mouth. You almost groaned out loud.

“I’m gonna be gone all morning,” he trailed his nose along your cheek, “and I want you to miss me.” He sounded so cocky it almost made you crack a smile.

“I assure you, you will be missed.” You tried your hardest not to let your voice shake as you spoke - because he was making you nervous as hell, but also him being so close to you made your body tingle.

He smirked. “I know, I know.” He waved a small, bright pink, oblong shaped device in front of your face. “I just have to make sure of it.” You tried to get a look at what that was as he slowly pushed your against the wall behind you. “Come on, spread your legs for me.”

Oh dear God. He brought a toy.

“Ransom…” you sounded frustrated.

“Babygirl…” He mimicked the tone you used and smirked when you let out a frustrated sigh - much like he did yesterday after you turned him down.

“Anyone could walk in right now.” You looked right in his eyes and you could tell that he did not give a flying fuck. He had other people handling his household; butlers, and chefs and lawn maintenance people. And they were all at work today.

“Well, I don’t care.” He spoke in that cocky, bossy voice of his. “Besides, the quicker you do as you’re told, the lesser chance we have of somebody catching us.” He stepped closer to you, breathing right into your ear, “Now come on, spread those legs for me.”

You did as you were told, your heart racing as he reached down to shamelessly touch you in between your legs. You closed your eyes and let out a quiet moan as you felt him push your underwear aside and press the toy against your wet folds. He slowly moved it around your clit, making your buck your hips forward discreetly.

You pushed your face into the crook of his neck as he slid the toy up and down your slit until he found your entrance. “Breathe,” he cooed as he slowly pushed the toy into you. You gasped and whimpered as he pushed it all the way in. He slowly pulled his hand from in between your legs and took a step back. “You did so good. Now for the fun part,” he pulled his phone out and tapped on it a few times and soon you felt the toy vibrating inside you, pressing right on your G-spot.

You let out an involuntary squeal. “Oh!” You breathed through your parted lips as the gentle and steady buzzing of the toy made you feel like your whole body was on fire. You gasped and held back another moan as he turned it up just a little, barely noticeable but your body reacted to the new setting immediately. You whined, quietly; very much aware that there were people everywhere around the house.

Ransom chuckled at your reaction. Perfect. He leaned in to kiss your cheek again, “Have a good day, sweetheart.”

He left. And yet, he didn’t leave you in peace.

His little toy tormented you all morning. For some minutes, the vibration would be practically non-existent, but then he’d turn it up whenever he pleased and you would let out gasps, and squeals and moans randomly all throughout.

You couldn’t focus on anything, other than the pressure in between your legs, and the sweet pain which came along with it. One of the butlers tried having a small talk with you and you could barely process any word he said. It was difficult to go about your day in peace when all you could think about was being absolutely railed by the man you worked for.

Ransom got home in the early afternoon. And he was particularly excited to see you, knowing damn well that you must be utterly spent by now. You would be surely dripping, your arousal flowing out of you incessantly. Fuck… he couldn’t wait.

He walked inside and searched the house until he found you in the sun room. You were watering the plants in there. Your messy bun was messier than it was this morning.

“Hello.” He knew that his voice would get some reaction out of you. And he was right. He heard you let out a weary sigh when you heard him.

You turned around; flushed and frustrated. You were burning just at the sight of him. “You’re back.” You sounded almost defeated. Ransom walked further in, right up to you.

“How was your day?” he placed both his hands on either side of your waist, and pulled you closer. “Had fun? I hope you remembered to miss me.” He leaned in to kiss your cheek. Once he pulled away, you leaned forward and placed your forehead against his shoulder as though your body went limp.

You let out a whine. “Please… it’s too much,” you pouted but he couldn’t see it.

“Oh?” He mocked you, using the same tone you did previously. “What, you can’t take it for a few hours?” he grabbed you by the chin and made you look up at him. “What about all those times I spent pining for you, longed for you to give me even a tiny bit of attention? This is nothing compared to that.”

You gasped loudly, realizing that he had turned it up again. You looked down and found his phone in his hand. Of course.

“Ransom, please…” you whined.

He fake pouted, looking down at you. “Aww angel, is it hard?” he cooed. “I bet you want me to just,” he leaned closer to your ear, “reach down there and touch you, hmm? And make you cum? Because you can’t bear the idea of having to walk around whining in need for another hour or two, can you?”

You whimpered at his words, your walls clenching around the toy as you looked up at him, pleading. “Please…”

“No. Not so easily. You can wait some more.”

With that, he walked out of the sunroom and left you there, whimpering and throbbing. With the toy buzzing steadily down there.

Fuck…

You were a little on the edge as you went to bring him his cup of coffee later in the afternoon. Would he tease you again, or just toy with the settings of the vibrator and make you make a mess again? With Ransom, one could never tell.

You found Ransom in the room he called his workshop; which was where he spent his free time painting.

Your plan was to give him his cup and then walk out of there as soon as you can. You found him standing in front of a canvas which was on an easel stand. His forearms were covered in shades of blue, some matching the sweater he had on.

You placed his cup on the nearby table and were about to walk out when you heard him speak up again. “Wait. Come here.”

You walked over to where he stood. This was the first time you noticed just how orderly this room was. Normally one would expect a workshop to be a mess, but no, not when it came to Ransom.

He reached out and touched your cheek. “You look flushed. It’s driving you crazy, isn’t it sweetheart? Your body can’t take it anymore, can it?” he murmured softly.

You looked up at him and shook your head. He melted at the look of desperation in your eyes. You were desperate, all for him. At last.

“Want me to make it better? Hmm?”

You nodded quickly.

“Good. Kneel.”

You did so immediately. Ransom ran his knuckles across your cheek lovingly. “Now come on, show me how bad you want it.”

You rapidly unzipped his pants; lowering the waistband of his underwear to free his erected cock. You whimpered again at the sight of his cock, thick and girthy. It made you wet, even more than before. You reached out and wrapped your hands around his base, stroking along his length; your tongue slowly circling his tip. He groaned and spread his legs further apart, inching his hips slightly forward as you took more of him into your mouth.

“That’s it… good girl,” He threw his head back for a moment. The sound of his voice made you clench around the toy.

You gave him your all; bobbing your head around him and licking around his tip. You took him inch by inch until he hit the back of your throat; hollowing your cheeks and letting his raw taste fill your senses. His cock twitched against your tongue and you tasted some of his pre cum. He bucked his hips forward very gently into your mouth, and loved the sight of your spit coating his cock.

“Come on angel, make me cum.” He said and you sped up your actions until he came undone all over your tongue; moaning and making your clit throb even more than before just by hearing his moans and growls as he came into your mouth. You swallowed all that he gave you before zipping his pants back up.

Ransom gently stroked your cheeks again. “Such a good girl.” He held his hand out for you to take, then he helped you stand up. He leaned in again, kissing you at the side of your mouth. “I think you deserve a little reward, don’t you angel?”

You looked up at him in hope, almost whining again at the sound of him providing you with some sort of release. It sounded too good.

“Yeah you’d like that, wouldn��t you?”

You spoke up finally. “Yes please.”

Ransom smiled down at you and pushed you back until your back hit something solid. You figured it must have been the table where he kept all his brushes and everything. He pushed you back onto the desk, most of his stuff falling over but he didn’t mind.

He sat you down on it and spread your legs apart while holding your stare. His eyes remained focused on your face as he settled in between your legs. His hand reached out and he ran his knuckles along your wet folds through your underwear, making you shudder at his mere touch.

“You’re so wet, sweetheart.” He commented, slowly sliding your underwear down your legs. He grabbed the toy by the end and pulled it out with ease, your arousal leaking out of you and the sight of it all made him almost moan again.

Ransom leaned down and placed a kiss on your inner thigh and you gasped. He reached out with two of his fingers and gently circled your clit, gathering your wetness from your folds and smearing it around. He got down on his knees; his face dangerously close to your core. You bit your lip, waiting and anticipating his next moves. He couldn’t possibly leave you on the edge again, could he?

Ransom spread your legs further apart and attached his lips to your core; the lower half of his face completely submerged into your dripping core. You let out a loud moan as you felt his warm mouth on top of your dripping core.

His tongue slipped past your folds and teased your entrance; occasionally flicking your clit mercilessly. Your hands gripped his hair and tugged gently at his roots. His tongue slowly circled your throbbing clit, parting your wet folds with ease.

“Such a sweet girl…” he whispered and got back to assault your sensitive spot with his warm and wet tongue, relishing your taste. Your taste drove him wild, so did your soft whimpers. You whimpered under his touch, you enjoyed each and every second of it and craved for more.

His deep blue eyes watched you in awe and how you lost control under his touch; legs shaking as he teased your entrance with the tip of his tongue. Your arousal drenched the lower half of his face as he ate you out relentlessly until you were nothing but a moaning, hot mess, squirming above him.

“Ransom…” you moaned out loud; your eyes shut and your head tilted back as you felt a wave of toe-curling pleasure wash over you. You were so close… But he didn’t let you enjoy it. The moment you moaned and bucked your hips against his mouth, he lifted his lips off you, smirking.

“What…” You looked down at him in absolute surprise and desperation; wide eyes and parted lips, breathing heavily with a pleading look in your eyes. You watched how he stood up again.

Ransom leaned in and his lips brushed against your lips faintly. “You taste heavenly,” he mumbled, “but you don’t get to cum just yet. You had me going crazy after you, I can’t let you have what you want so easily, sweetheart.”

And with those words, yet again, he left you wanting more and you grew even more desperate.

The next morning, Ransom was a little surprised when he hadn’t seen you around. He knew you were at work, given he heard you come in and also heard you talking with one of the butlers. But when he came downstairs, he couldn’t find you anywhere. He also had a lot of work to be done that day so as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t spend all his time searching for you around the house.

He got back to his study eventually, wondering when you would show up. But you didn’t. It got to a point where he could no longer focus on what he was doing because he was busy overthinking everything.

Could it be that you were avoiding him? Was it something he did, or said yesterday? Did he overstep a line?

By the early hours of the afternoon, he was restless. He tried to go downstairs to find you, and he did but you were in the kitchen helping his chef out at the time so he couldn’t talk to you. He didn’t even make his presence known, he just slowly backed out of the room, disheartened.

He felt miserable. He hadn’t seen you properly all day, hadn’t heard your voice, hadn’t teased you like he loved to. He almost didn’t feel like himself.

The rest of the day went by agonizingly for him. He had made up his mind to confront you before you leave though, he couldn’t tolerate this suspense any longer.

In the evening, around the time you usually left his home, Ransom searched the house until he found you again. You were in the sun room, finishing up some remaining work. The floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the sun room also allowed him to look at the terrible, almost stormy weather outside. It looked like it would rain violently all through the night.

“The weather’s gonna get worse, let me drop you home.”

You froze at the sound of his voice. You had done your best to keep a distance from him all day long, but you knew that wouldn’t work for much longer. It wasn’t because of something he did, it was you.

You couldn’t help but overthink everything. Was he just toying with you because he’s bored? What would happen once you slept with him? Would he just cast you aside and pretend it never happened? And if he does, wouldn’t that make everything awkward at work for you? After he did have a history of being quite the playboy.

“No that’s alright. Don’t bother, I’ll manage.”

Your answer didn’t sit well with him. He stood there at the doorway while you moved around the room, wrapping up your last bits of work.

“What do you mean ‘don’t bother’? It’s pouring outside I-,”

You cut him off, calmly.

“I mean it Ransom, truly. I’ll manage.”

He sighed. “Alright, is it something I did? Something I said? Why are you avoiding me? Tell me so I can fix it!” He did sound a little hyper but that was only because he couldn’t figure you out.

Your reply frustrated him even more. “No, nothing.”

Alright, that’s it. He walked over to you and grabbed you gently by the elbow, turning you around so you faced him. Even despite the gloomy weather, the sight of your face made him the happiest he had been all day. “I haven’t seen you all day. Then you avoid me like it’s nothing. And now you’re acting like… this. What’s going on? If it’s me, I’m sorry. I never meant to-,”

You were quick to cut him off at that. “No, it’s not you. It’s… I don’t know. I just… I work for you. I don’t think it’s wise for us to be this close and intimate. It’s wrong. Isn’t it?” You hadn’t thought about how hard it would be to say that to his face, when in reality you wanted him more than anything.

His dreamy blue eyes, the thoughts of which kept you up till late at night lately, stared down at you with an unexplainable emotion in them. He was surely taken aback by what you had just said, because to him this was never a problem. And he didn’t want it to be a problem for you either.

“Does it feel wrong, babygirl?” He asked. If you said yes right now, he would let you go and never touch you again. But the look in your eyes gave him the answer he wanted to hear. “Say it, Y/N. Does it feel wrong when you’re with me?” He leaned down to gently press a kiss at the side of your mouth. You were dying to kiss him. “Does it feel wrong when I touch you, when I tease you…” he kissed along your jaw. “When you get on your knees like my good girl to please me, does it feel wrong then?” he whispered against your skin.

You shivered. He waited. “Answer me, Y/N.”

You whimpered at the sound of his voice. How could you not, he had been teasing you for days now.

“No. It doesn’t.” You murmured, and gasped as he gently nibbled on the skin along your throat. You heard him chuckle quietly.

“That’s all I needed to hear.”

Next thing you knew, his mouth was on yours. Kissing you properly for the first time. His kiss started out all gentle and loving, and got progressively more and more heated. Your lips moved perfectly against each other’s. You sighed in delight. He deepened the kiss by stroking the top of your mouth with his tongue, and you were on the edge just by that.

Ransom kissed you deeply as he walked to two of you back until your back hit the glass window. You let out a gasp and before you could process anything else, Ransom was on his knees in front of you.

“I’m sorry for teasing you for the past days. I’ll make up for it, I promise.” He whispered as he kissed along your thigh, your skirt gave him easier access. He loved it. Next, he dragged your underwear down and quickly urged you to spread your legs further apart. You did.

Ransom made you cum all over his tongue, more than once. He only stopped when your legs visibly started shaking. You were a moaning and whimpering mess when he finally stood back up again.

His mouth found yours again. He kissed your open mouth with ardor, like he owned it. His hand slipped under your thin sweater and he caressed your warm skin with his large hands; tracing the skin right under your breasts, leaving goosebumps where his fingers touched you so hungrily.

Without breaking the kiss, he picked you up and slammed your back against the glass window behind you. You couldn’t even form a proper thought as his tongue slipped into your mouth, making you moan wantonly into the kiss. Your hands slid into his hair. Your core pressed against his firm body as his mouth alone drove you crazy.

He moaned into the kiss as your hand gently tugged on his hair. He smiled and spread your legs apart just a little more so he could be closer to you, as if you weren’t already. His hands held you up, securely against him; he had a very firm grip on your thigh, his other hand placed right under your ass.

“I want you. So bad…” he mumbled breathlessly against your lips. He sounded so… hot that it made you moan and whimper again.

Fuck… “I want you too.” You managed to whisper in between kisses.

You felt him smirk, then he bit your lower lip; tugging on it gently. Ransom pulled away to look into your eyes again. He waited for a moment, just savouring the hunger in your eyes before he leaned in for a kiss again. You could no longer take it. So you reached down and undid his pants, while he slipped his hand in between your legs again.

He ran his knuckles along your wet folds, smearing your arousal around in the process. He groaned in pleasure as you gently pulled his cock out and stroked it gently. “Eager now, are we?”

He slipped his two fingers past your entrance with ease and grunted in your ear as he felt your walls instantly welcoming him in. He curled his fingers inside of you, hitting all the spots you wanted him too. You almost came again, but you didn’t want his fingers anymore.

“Please… I need you to fuck me, Ransom. Please…” you begged.

He was pleasantly surprised. “Anything for you, angel.”

He set you down and pulled down your skirt, letting it all fall and pool around your ankles. You stepped out of it before he picked you up again and kissed you deeply; your legs wrapped around his waist. His cock briefly brushed against your wet folds in the process and you moaned wantonly through the kiss.

He kissed down your neck as he aligned his throbbing tip with your entrance. He pushed himself into you, stretching you out as he went. His nails dug into your skin as he held you by your hips, and yours clawed at his shoulders as he filled you up nicely. You were both panting by the time he filled you up entirely.

“Fuck… you feel so good, sweetheart,” He moaned, breathlessly into you ear. And that earned him a loud moan out of you. There was just something about him whispering in your ear which drove you completely insane.

He grunted as he rocked in and out of you. You felt all of him, and he was perfect. He stroked your walls with his throbbing cock and you were a moaning mess in no time. He enjoyed every second of it, each sound he earned from you felt satisfying.

“You feel better than I imagined, angel…” he moaned.

He held you securely against him, as he sped up into you like he had dreamt of doing so many times before. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck and let out a loud moan and he fucked you. Hearing him moan was the hottest thing you had ever heard. You whimpered again as he slammed into you relentlessly.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? For me to fuck you like I own you, hmm?” he whispered against your skin.

His mouth soon found yours and he nibbled on your bottom lip and you let out shaky breaths. He was taking over all your senses and you were more than happy to surrender to him. A thin layer of sweat formed on his face, as he fucked you relentlessly; earning more and more moans out of you each time his cock stroked your walls.

“Ransom…” you gasped.

You felt a sweet pressure forming in between your hips; fiery, burning and pressing inside you. Ransom nibbled at the skin under your ear and you lost all control you had left. Your thoughts became cloudy and all you could focus on was how his body brought you immense pleasure. You had craved this for so long. You craved him.

“Please…” you whined.

Your sensitive clit rubbed against his pelvic bone each time he buried himself completely in you. He growled in your ear as he pounded into you as fast as he could, your back slamming into the large glass window with each thrust. Your body moved along with his like a rag doll. And you never complained once. You could hear the wet sounds that he caused each time he pushed himself into you and the sounds of your skin slapping against each other was downright sinful.

“Cum for me, baby. Come on…” he growled in your ear.

He moaned against your ear and the sound sent shivers down your back. Your legs started to shake around him as he quickened his pace; pounding into you mercilessly. You felt like you were losing your mind. The pleasure was too much and you couldn’t hold back anymore. So, you came undone around his cock; screaming his name in the process.

Once you recovered from your high, he fucked you again. And again, on the couch. Then upstairs in his bed. Which was probably where you passed out as well; worn out and satisfied.

---

You woke up in his soft, warm bed the next morning. You peeled your eyes open and realized that the weather was just as gloomy as the previous night. Only this morning, you felt much better than you had these past days. You felt tingly still, and the butterflies in your stomach came alive again as you thought of Ransom…

Speaking of, where was he?

You sat up in the middle of the bed, clutching the sheets around you. You could tell your hair was a mess even without looking at it. And just as you were trying to tame it, you felt the bed dip right next to you. And the next moment you felt a pair of lips kissing on you; along your neck and across your cheek making you giggle.

“Good morning.” You whispered, pulling away to take a look at him.

He smiled at you. “Good morning, angel.” He sounded excited. “I made something for you.” Only then did you notice that he had something in his hand.

He placed it in front of you and you let out a little gasp. “Ransom… this is beautiful.” You picked up the canvas and admired the painting on it. It was a bunch of Forget-Me-Nots, beautifully painted in several shades of blue. “What’s the occasion?”

He placed a gentle kiss upon your exposed shoulder. “It’s a farewell gift. I don’t want you to work for me anymore.”

You scoffed at how extra he was. “Then what?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know yet, we’ll figure it out, together.”

You shook your head at him, turning a little more towards him while still clutching the sheet around you. “So what, you want me to be your little stay-at-home plaything?” your words made him smirk, “So you can spend your time plotting new ways to torment me, and tease me for however long you’d like?”

“Baby… you have no idea how good that sounds.” He said so just to mess with you. He was kidding of course.

You leaned in and kissed him, smiling. “You’re sick, Ransom Drysdale. I love it.”

He smirked through the kiss, pushing you back until your back hit the bed again. He was on top of you once again, “Hmm, I love you too.” He mumbled in between kisses.

And in that moment, you were glad you finally said yes to him.

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale smut #chris evans #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale fic

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voiceless-terror · 3 years

Text

Outside the Lines

for @archivalpride month! the prompt was ‘sharing clothes’ so I decided to add on a bit to my More than Enough archives polycule fic. you don’t need to read it beforehand, though. 2.2k words, cw in the tags.

Jon likes Sasha’s clothes. Particularly, her cardigans.

They’re warm, oversized things in pastel colors, chunky cable knits and ancient pullovers, smelling faintly of jasmine and sandalwood. There’s always one draped over the back of her chair at work, at home. Sometimes a pile of them.

“Just in case,” she said knowingly, when Jon mentioned the teetering pile on the back of her office chair.

“Of what, a blizzard?” he replied archly, to which she had no response.

But Jon runs cold, so it makes sense that he’d like them. And eye them. And eventually, borrow them.

“You look good in pink,” she said casually, walking by him cozily wrapped up, surrounded by books for his latest case. “You should wear it more often.” Jon just grumbled in response.

It now sits on the back of his chair.

Point is, they’re not strangers to sharing clothes. Once they move in together, the lines blur even more. Jon’s scarves become hers, her jackets become his. It’s nice when the someone’s scent begins to remind you of home. Embarrassingly, he’s come to think of it like a hug when she’s not around. Perhaps she feels the same way, but Jon’s not going to bring it up. He’s not that maudlin.

“You need to stop me from online shopping,” she groans one day, dropping a pile of clothing into his lap that must have been from the newly-arrived and altogether giant box he found on the steps of their flat. Jon had raised an eyebrow as she guiltily hauled it to her room and got to work. “I swear, I don’t remember ordering half of this.”

“Far be it from me to get between a James and her phone,” he replies, picking through the pile of utterly un-Sasha-like clothing. It’s all floaty tops and tiny skirts, nothing like what she usually gravitates toward. She certainly has more...adventurous tastes, when she’s intoxicated.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you at all,” Jon retorts, picking up the most offensive piece from the pile with his thumb and pointer finger: a muted brown, and yet somehow sparkly miniskirt. He raises a judgmental eyebrow. “Really?”

“I was not in my right state of mind, you know that.” She ran a hand over her face, refusing to look him in the eye. “Anyway, see if there’s anything in there you like. Otherwise, it’s all going back.”

Jon very much doubts there’s much in here for him - not a chunky knit in sight. The tops aren’t too bad, but a bit too sheer for his liking, and if he’s going to layer, he’d rather be comfortable than fashionable. He pushes the pile off his lap when something catches his eye. Buried beneath two very loud shirts is something black, with bits of lace. He pulls it out to find a simple black dress, high-necked with pearl buttons and slightly puffed sleeves. It’s modest, but covered in a delicate lace pattern. His grip tightens incrementally. “You don’t like this?”

Sasha peeks her head around the corner. “S’bit short on me. You should try it on, though. It’s cute.”

Jon flushes. It’s something he might’ve worn in uni, when he and Georgie made a night of it and Jon had just enough liquid courage. Now, though, it doesn’t fit with his professional persona and strict uniform of blazers, vests, and button ups. He needed to be taken seriously, and he didn’t feel he could do that if he was...experimenting, as his grandmother would phrase it. His hair he still wears long, the only vestige of that life he kept. “Oh,” he responds automatically, “I couldn’t.”

Sasha blinks. “I think you’d look really nice. Put your hair up, maybe add some earrings.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not.” She comes behind his perch on the sofa, gathering his hair up in her hand and pulling it from his face. “Leave a few pieces out, y’know, artfully messy.” She takes the dress and pulls it up against his body. “What do you think?”

“Um, maybe,” he barely manages to whisper. It feels nice, right. He can see it in his mind’s eye - it looks very him. Not feminine or masculine, just pretty. Just Jon. “I’ll think about it.”

He thinks about it. The dress hangs in the back of his closet, untouched and passed over many a morning. He tried it on and Sasha had been right- of course she was, she’s good at that sort of thing when not inebriated. Maybe one day he’d wear it out - not to work, but to drinks or something.

Maybe.

It’s not until months down the line that he tugs it out, on one of those days where he feels like his body doesn’t make sense and names sound wrong in his ears. Drinks with Tim, the newest recruit to their department. Hard won drinks, if Jon might add; Tim was just starting to open up to them. He tugs the dress over his head and digs through a plate on his dresser for the long silver earrings Sasha gave him last Christmas. He studiously avoids the mirror on his way out the door, throwing his bag over his shoulder and standing in the doorway, as if waiting for Sasha’s reaction.

This was a bad idea, he thinks as his palms start to sweat. You look ridiculous, you shouldn’t have- his thoughts are interrupted by a gentle hand tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. Sasha smiles at him.

“Oh, you’re perfect.”

Tim thinks so too.

----------

“Oh man, I’ve got to get rid of that.”

Tim motions to the blazer in Sasha’s hand. “Hasn’t fit me since uni. Y’know, when I got these guns.” Sasha rolls her eyes as he makes an exaggerated motion with his arms. They’ve been cleaning out Tim’s apartment for the past few hours, she and Tim in the bedroom while Jon sorted through his books in the living room. She suspects he’s doing more reading than sorting.

“Why’d you keep it, then?” She holds the hanger up, smoothing the fabric out with her hand. It’s heavy, quality fabric. A shame to get rid of it.

“Dunno, just one of those things,” he shrugs, throwing another pair of joggers onto the bed. “It was expensive, but I only ever wore it to interviews for internships and the like. You can toss it in the donate pile.”

She hums idly, making no motion to get rid of it. She’s rather fond of blazers, has quite a few in her collection. They’re nice when she wants to be a bit more dressy and professional. A woman’s outfit can occasionally be her armor, particularly in academia, and nothing says ‘take me seriously’ like a nicely fitted jacket and skirt. Never mind how it makes her feel. But this is very much a men’s blazer, barely a nip at the waist and with nothing to outline the curve of her body. And yet.

She shoves it in her bag. If she doesn’t like it, she’ll throw it out.

_______

When Jon and Tim are tucked in bed, she tries it on.

She doesn’t know why she’s being so secretive about this. It’s not like Jon and Tim will care, it’s just clothes. Lord knows she’s encouraged Jon to wear whatever he wants, and there’s no surefire way to get Tim blushing like wearing one of his pullovers. But there’s something that feels a bit transgressive about it. She was generally drawn to more feminine looks, growing up as a tall girl there’s an inherent (perhaps taught) idea that making herself look smaller and delicate would make her more appealing. Appealing for what? She always wanted to ask. But she knows the answer now. It’s taken near a decade to get the slouch out of her posture and to get comfortable wearing heels.

It seems silly to feel so cowed by a blazer. She’s thirty years old, unmarried and living with two partners. She stopped playing by the rules a long time ago. Her hands shouldn’t be shaking. For Christ’s sake, just put it on.

She slips her arms into the sleeves, pausing to inhale the leftover scent of Tim, his laundry detergent and the after shave he occasionally wears. Her entire body warms, like stepping into a bath. She slips the rest of it on, pausing to adjust the shirt underneath. When she looks in the mirror, she can’t help the grin that fills her face. She looks good. Her broad shoulders fit the line of the jacket perfectly, her curves hidden and barely even suggested by the cut. It is decidedly not feminine.

She likes it.

It takes her twenty minutes to drag herself from the bathroom and back into bed. She lies awake through Tim’s light snores and Jon’s murmuring, filled with a strange, nervous excitement. It’s just a blazer, she thinks to herself somewhat giddily. It’s just clothes. But when she throws it on that Monday morning and steps into the kitchen, she starts to think it might be more than that. She walks a little taller, feels a bit more at home in her skin. Tim choking on his orange juice when he sees her is just an added bonus.

“Glad you kept it,” he stutters out, once he manages to stop gaping.

She’s glad too.

______

Martin’s sitting on Jon’s bed, watching as he runs a brush through his hair.

Jon’s hair is lovely, long and shiny. His own he keeps rather short, though the curls are getting a bit unruly these days. When he was a child, his mother insisted he keep it long, just like she insisted on a great many other things. But he shed all of that, got as far away from it as possible. And yet, eyeing the silvery tray on Jon’s dresser, he has to admit he’s curious.

It’s full of delicate, pretty accessories- hair clips and necklaces and earrings. Jon’s like a magpie, collecting shiny things; though this collection is mostly gifts from the three of them. It’s a little dance they like to do- Jon sees something in a store, stares a little too long, insists he doesn’t need it, and eventually it ends up in their flat.

Their flat. He’s still getting used to it. He’s never felt at home anywhere, but he’s starting to think he has one now. Listening to Jon hum as he cooks, Tim reading aloud from his recent article deep-dive, Sasha butting in with a comment - these are all good things. The background noise to his days that used to be filled with silence.

And he’s never been around people so at home with themselves. Martin is so used to putting an effort into how he presents himself in the world, he’s never enjoyed being misconstrued. A strange, delicate balance of pride in who he is at war with a desperate need to be understood and accepted. Palatable. Easier to put yourself in a box with clear labels than to deal with the confusion and the questions. Any passing thought or fleeting impulse that goes outside the lines is dismissed.

But nothing about his situation now is easily labeled, to be honest. It’s hard enough explaining his relationship status to others, though Sasha has a little spiel ready to rattle off at a moment’s notice. They’re all so comfortable with each other, with themselves. It makes him both a bit braver and a bit more afraid.

While Jon scurries off to flick through his closet, Martin gets up, walking over to the collection and picking up the small moth broach he’d gotten him on one of their first dates, before Tim started to come along. The memory brings a smile to his face.

“Oh, it’s lovely, Martin.” Jon had immediately pinned it to his jacket, before reaching down to grab a bag at his feet. “And ah, actually- I got something for you too?”

A little Highland cow plushie. So he had been listening to his rant on Scotland the other day. It still sits in place of pride on his desk.

“Do you want to try one?” Martin jumps at the sound of Jon’s voice, dropping the pin unceremoniously back into the pile as if he’d been burnt. He turns around, prepared to voice a thousand excuses, a knee-jerk reaction.

“No, it’s-”

But Jon’s already sorting through the pile with clever fingers, hand lingering over a thin barrette with a tiny, gold flower. Pretty, simple. Martin’s hand itches to reach out but he draws it into a tight fist. Admiring is one thing, but actually wearing it-

“C’mere.” He thinks he should refuse but instead he leans down, lets Jon’s fingers wind their way through his hair and feels a settled weight against his head.

“There.” Jon smiles. “That’ll do quite nicely.”

He looks in the mirror. Oh.

It’s barely even noticeable, just a small clip bringing the longest of his curls behind his ear. But Jon’s right. It looks nice. It goes with his hair and it doesn’t feel feminine or wrong, just a comfortable weight against his head reminding him he belongs, he’s loved. And that Martin’s still himself, even if he steps outside of the box every now and then.

“You don’t have to keep it in if you-”

“No. I like it.” He straightens his spine, tilts his head. Smiles. Jon smiles back.

Yeah. He likes it.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31803076

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