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qwimblenorrisstan · 1 month ago

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Bubbles | König x Reader

Day 7: Hoodie Weather w/ König

Summary: When Task Force 141 joins together with KorTac for a mission, he doesn’t expect the bubbly member of the 141 to give his entire base a Christmas surprise.

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: None!

A/N: the könig brainrot is deadly. it is infecting me at an unprecedented speed. on a positive note, we’re one week through with October! hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

You were known to him as the bubbly one.

König had caught his men referring to you as Blasen—bubbles, rather than your actual name, something he kept forgetting how to pronounce anyway.

How you, a small little thing compared to him, could be deadly on the field was a mystery to him, but your teammates in the little group you had, called Task Force 141, seemed to trust you. Especially the one with the mohawk. He often heard you and him laughing together down the halls, because of a mission where KorTac, for God knows why, required the additional help of the 141 due to border disputes with the enemy they were hunting down.

It was stupid. He knew that.

But you’d brought out a surprising little bit of happiness and cheer to the base.

Christmas was nearing, and you seemed to have settled into their base by now, despite not speaking a lick of German other than the very basics that you even butchered at that. You mostly just used basic gestures or made the tall man, with the strange mask, translate for you.

König woke up early in the morning, earlier than anyone else, pulling his clothes and uniform on, walking out of the bunks, only to find tinsel with little ornaments hanging from it, no lights—they would be a fire hazard, in the hallways.

If it weren’t for his mask, anyone could’ve seen the plain surprise and confusion on his face. His men surely hadn’t done it, he knew they were busy training, or keeping themselves occupied until the next mission. And the only other person with enough time on their hands, and the balls to pull it off, would naturally be…

“Ah.”

He muttered to himself when he found you, standing on top of two barrels stacked on top of each other, adding a small fake star to the very top of the tree that had somehow been moved inside the center of the rec room.

You must’ve noticed him despite his quiet steps, throwing your head back to give a bright grin, jumping off from the barrels, and landing on your feet to lean back and look at the decorated tree from afar as you backed up until you were right next to him, hands on your hips.

“What are we thinkin’, Kön?”

He despised the nickname. Or at least he tried to, despite the way your audacity alone made him want to let the laughs bubbling up in him go, and not hold them down.

“It is…a tree.”

He stated, swallowing, not sure what to say, wondering how you’d even gotten a tree in here, knowing it was real based on the sap he could smell coming from it.

“That, my friend, is a lovely observation.”

You said, grinning, clapping him on the back as he stared, utterly gobsmacked when you sauntered over and plugged something in, and lights began glimmering from the tree.

He blinked, blue eyes filled with confusion as he tried working out the math in his head, only to fail every time. He watched as you walked back over, looking proud as a peacock, despite the little shiver in your small frame.

“How.”

He asked, accent thick as you sniffled, nose running slightly, before answering.

“Well, I went and got a tree, brought it back here, then dug up some old shit from your storage room. Simple as that.”

König hadn’t even known they kept anything in that storage room. Let alone Christmas lights, or anything to decorate, really. And to gather an entire tree, it must’ve taken all night, and with the storm blowing through—

You must’ve been freezing.

No wonder you were shivering, small body not large enough to keep warm as long as his, or any of the other men on base.

He reached out, pressing the area where his glove and sleeve failed to overlap against your exposed neck, frowning with worry at the temperature he felt. You probably hadn’t known. How could you, when you were probably used to the temperatures at your old base? There was a reason they wore thicker clothing here.

Humming to himself in thought, he pulled the hoodie he wore over his normal uniform off, and promptly placed it on top of your head, watching as your expression transitioned from confusion to understanding, then amusement as you pulled it over your head, putting the arms in, savoring in the warmth the thick material brought you.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know. I would’ve been fine.”

You pointed out. He’d been expecting it. Women were undermined already in the military, so it was no surprise they usually made up for their size with their attitude and wits.

“You needed it, Blasen.”

He spoke simply, watching the confusion overtake your face again as you tried to figure out what he’d just said in German. It was a little funny. That was, until, he heard the signs of the other men in base waking up, with confused and excited German and English being exchanged through the base, with a familiar,

“Steamin’ Jesus!”

Being heard through the hallways your grin somehow spread wider. König heard Horangi and Nikto conversing, wondering what the hell was going on, only to stop dead in their tracks when they saw the Christmas tree in the rec room.

The masked man cocked his head at König, who only jerked his head towards you with a shrug, Horangi just taking everything in with a furrowed brow.

The 141 weren’t too soon after to file in after more soldiers on base, Soap first to greet you with a laugh and some gibberish in an accent so thick not even König could understand it. He ruffled your hair, eyes taking notice of the hoodie you wore, raising a brow at the large German man standing awkwardly nearby, watching, but commenting nothing.

Then another man he’d forgotten the name of came by, a dazzling white flash of teeth, then he was trailing off to find Soap and keep him out of trouble. The Ghost took one glance at the room, shook his head in what König assumed to be exasperation, and went to sit with Price, the man who seemed to be in charge and had been up early, taking all of the decorations into account already.

As everyone settled into the new surroundings, you and König exchanged a long glance, before you swallowed, almost nervously, giving a small smile.

“Well, uh—thanks for the hoodie. I’ll see you around?”

He took your words into account for a moment, before nodding.

“Ja. See you…around.”

And you sauntered off to the table where Price and the strange Ghost man were seated, only for Price to raise a brow at the hoodie you were wearing, muttering something König couldn’t hear from his distance before he walked to join his men.

He was greeted with a,

“Permission to speak freely?”

Carefully eying Horangi, he responded.

“…Granted.”

“Am I invited to the wedding?”

Tags:

@hawke1917

@flufftober

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krirebr · 11 months ago

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More Than This 2

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~6.1k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, no noncon but some fear of it, excessive alcohol use, explicit language, the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Another part already??? This one has just been flowing right out of me. It occurs to me that I should probably explicitly state that this will have a happy ending! Possibly very far in the future, but it will happen!! 😂😭

Huge thanks again to @paperweight91 for reading so much of this and letting me know when I was on the right track.

Visual references for the ring and dress can be found here.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Despite your best efforts, the next three weeks went by in a blink.

The engagement ring arrived the day after your disastrous dinner with Ransom. It was beautiful—a round diamond with a smaller sapphire on each side, set in swirling filigree. You wondered who picked it. Certainly not Ransom. Probably someone’s assistant. It felt like fire around your finger.

You’d packed up the small apartment you loved so much. Sorting everything into what you would bring and what would be put into storage – the latter category was much bigger. You sat in your living room, surrounded by boxes, and cried, with Steve beside you and Lola nervously shaking in your lap.

Your mother took you to pick your dress. She sat on the plush couch in the appointment-only boutique and sipped champagne while you tried on dress after dress that the attendants brought you. Her favorite was an ivory satin ballgown with off-the-shoulder short sleeves, a bow at the bottom of the back, and a very wide skirt. She cried when you put it on. You told her it was your favorite too, because you just didn’t have it in you to have an opinion.

The Thrombey clan came into town the week before the wedding. Their time was mostly spent in meetings with Joseph and his team. Meeting the new extended family was to be left for the wedding festivities.

You hadn’t heard a word from Ransom. You’d thought of texting him a few times but couldn’t see the point in it. He’d made his feelings on you and your upcoming marriage clear. Any added effort would just be torturing yourself.

Then, suddenly, the rehearsal dinner was passing without incident. It was a catered affair, held at your parents’ house. Despite being one of the two nominal guests of honor, aside from the initial introductions, you were mostly ignored, as business remained the topic at the forefront of everyone’s minds. Ransom was there, of course, seated next to you, even, but he did his best to avoid you. You were torn between intense relief for the moment and absolute terror for what it meant for your future. When you noticed him quietly ducking out, you took the opportunity to leave as well, hoping most people would think you’d absconded together. The thought made you laugh bitterly.

You spent your last night of freedom snuggled up with Lola in Steve’s guest room. You barely slept.

Now, you sat in a plush robe in front of the vanity in the large hotel suite that sat several floors above the event hall you’d be getting married in in just over one hour. Steve sat sentinel in an armchair near you, already in his tux. People had been coming in and out all day – manicurists, aestheticians, makeup artists, hairstylists, your mother until she’d gotten called away for the pictures they didn't need you for. The female members of Ransom’s family too. His aunt, Joni, had only been in briefly, saying that the energy of the room was all wrong and she’d had to leave. Her daughter Meg had sat with you for a while, but she just kept complaining about how awful Ransom was and Steve eventually kicked her out, probably trying to spare you a panic attack. And then there was Ransom’s mother, Linda. She had been in a few times ‘to check on the progress.’ You’d tried very hard not to get stressed out by her, but she was very… severe, and you felt about a foot tall every time she looked at you. And now here she was, again.

“Darling,” she said, and you tried not to balk at the fact that you’d know this woman for less than 24 hours and she was already using endearments, ��you’ll be needed for pictures soon and you aren’t dressed yet?”

You gestured to the two people at the rolling clothing rack who were carefully removing your dress from the garment bag. “We’re about to start putting it on. I’ll be ready soon.”

“Fantastic. Maybe it’s time for Steve to go then,” she cut a glance to your stepbrother.

“Not fucking likely,” he muttered. He’d been stuck to you like glue all day.

Linda’s eyebrows crawled up to her hairline. “I just think that some people might find it inappropriate for you to be in here while your sister gets dressed.”

He stood up and took a step toward her. “I’ll turn around,” he growled.

“Steve,” you sighed. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine.” It wasn’t. You wouldn’t be, but none of that could be helped.

He looked at you carefully, his eyes flitting over your face. Finally, he nodded, “OK. I’ll see you out there then.” With a quick, reassuring touch to your arm, he left.

Linda watched him leave and once he was out the door, she turned to you and said, “You and your stepbrother are very close, aren’t you?”

Something about her tone made you incredibly wary. “Yes,” you said cautiously, “he’s my best friend.”

“Isn’t that lovely?” she said with a thin-lipped smile that made it clear she thought anything but.

You noted her reaction as you returned her smile and removed your robe. You let the attendants help you step into the dress where they’d pooled it on the floor. They pulled it up around you and you stood still as they fastened and arranged the dress on you. All under Linda’s watchful eye, her arms crossed over her chest. When it was all done and you’d stepped into your heels, you turned to her so that she could give the approval you could feel she was dying to give.

“Well, aren’t you just a dream,” she said. Just as you were about to thank her, she added, “Although, I suppose it would be hard not to be, with all these people working on you, huh?” Her tone was warm and friendly, but you took it as the cut down you knew she meant it to be.

Still, you smiled. “Well, we should probably get down there, shouldn’t we?”

Everyone oohed and aahed appropriately when you arrived at the courtyard space reserved for photographs. Your mother was crying again. Joseph smiled at you, possibly the warmest smile he’d ever given you, and said “Beautiful,” but it was less like a compliment and more confirmation that everything was the way he needed it to be, like he was commenting on furniture. You smiled anyway and thanked him, then moved where the photographers directed you.

This round of pre-ceremony pictures was reserved for the families. Ransom had already done his and then been dismissed, to ‘preserve the big reveal’ you were told. You’d been asked earlier if you wanted to do first-look photos and declined. That had been interpreted as you wanting to have the big moment when you walked down the aisle to him. Instead, you just knew that he wouldn’t give them the reaction they were looking for. You’d rather spare yourself that embarrassment.

The thing about these arrangements was that while they were all about business and everyone knew it, people still wanted the trappings of romance. The big wedding at a fancy venue, awe on the groom’s face when he saw the bride in her dress for the first time, a joyful reception with speeches about true love. It had made you roll your eyes when you’d gone to friends’ weddings, but now that it was your own, it all made you want to scream.

You posed with Linda and Ransom’s father, Richard, a benign smile on your face. And then it was Harlan’s turn. “You look absolutely lovely,” he said to you, kindly. “You’re going to be so good for my grandson.” You responded with that same placid smile. You wondered if anyone had told Ransom that he was going to be good for you. You doubted it. That part didn’t seem to matter.

Next, it was time for your own family. Your mother and Joseph, together and then separately, and then Steve joined you for the full family. Once that was done, the photographers started to dismiss you, but you stopped them. “I want a few with just me and Steve.”

They looked at you and then Joseph and Linda, “That’s not on the list of required shots.”

“I don’t care,” you said, “I want them.”

“Darling,” Linda started, and you wanted to growl, “I’m not sure there’s time.”

“I don’t care,” you said again, “everyone can wait the five minutes this is going to take. I’m the bride, I doubt they’ll start without me. Isn’t today my day?”

Linda took a step back and nodded to the photographers but you could feel her watching you as Steve stepped up to you. “And people think I’m the troll,” he said, low enough for only you to hear.

You smiled, possibly your first genuine smile all day. “You are the troll,” you said. “I’m the sweet one who does what she’s told without complaint.”

He snorted, “Sure,” and turned his head as the photographers directed.

When it was all done, you took a deep breath and tried to prepare yourself as everyone but you and Steve began to make their way back inside.

“You ready?” he asked, concern all over his face.

You shook your head. “Not even remotely.”

He looked over your shoulder. “I know–” he began but stopped for a moment before he started again. “I know that if she had lived, we never would have met, but I still think, sometimes, about how much my mom would have loved you. Just as much as I do.”

“Steve,” you gasped.

He grabbed both of your hands. “You are the strongest, bravest person I know and you can do this.”

Your eyes welled up as you squeezed his hands, feeling like you’d completely fall apart if you let go. “I don’t know if I can,” you whispered.

“Hey,” he said, oh so gently, “all you have to do right now is get through the ceremony. That’s it. You don’t need to think about what comes after. Focus on what’s directly in front of you. Nothing else. Just walk down the aisle and say I do when it’s your turn. That’s it. You can do that. I know you can do that. I wish you didn’t have to, but you can.”

You took a deep breath. And another. And then you nodded. “I can.”

He smiled, big and genuine and still more than a little sad. He pulled you in for a hug, exceedingly careful to not mess anything up, and said again, “You can. I know you can.”

Someone stepped out of the big French doors leading into the vestibule your party was gathering in and waved frantically at you. Another deep breath. “OK,” you said.

He just nodded and guided you back inside.

Joseph walked you down the aisle. It wasn’t your choice, but this day had always been more about him than it ever was about you, so of course he would be the one to walk you. You would have chosen Steve. But you also would have chosen not to do this at all.

The walk was both agonizingly long and much, much too short. Ransom waited for you at the end of it, dressed in a designer tux and devastatingly handsome. You searched his face for anything, but he remained completely stoic, his eyes hard. You had to look away.

There were so many people gathered to watch your life change forever. As you gazed over the faces of the people seated on your side, you weren’t sure you recognized even half of them. You realized with a jolt that this was the most alone you’d ever felt, in this hall surrounded by hundreds of people, all eyes on you.

So much sooner than you were ready for, you’d arrived at the front, Joseph placing you in front of Ransom and joining your hands together. Ransom’s hands were soft and his grasp wasn’t nearly as harsh as you’d expected. You took a deep breath—every other thought since you’d stepped into the hall was to remind yourself to keep breathing—and met his gaze. It was still hard, but, maybe, maybe there wasn’t hate there.

Maybe you just didn’t know him well enough yet to be able to tell.

The ceremony went quickly. You struggled to focus on the officiant’s words. It was like you were in a sort of fugue state. But you repeated after him when you were supposed to. You said ‘I do’ when you were prompted. You played your part.

Ransom did too. You’d half expected him to just not show up at all, or walk out part-way through, or something but he was under the same familial pressures as you, you reasoned. At the end of the day, you all just did what you were told.

Before you knew it, it was done. There was a ring on your finger and one on his. You barely remembered placing it there. You registered the officiant saying “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,” and stared at Ransom. You expected him to swoop in and take what was his, but he paused. There was a clear question in his eyes. Shocked, you realized he was asking permission. As subtly as you could, you nodded. He gave a barely perceptible nod back and then he was kissing you. It wasn’t chaste, exactly, but it certainly wasn’t passionate either. Open-mouthed, but no tongue, and done quickly, the faintest taste of whiskey on his lips. Everyone applauded.

The processional music started and you began to move without even realizing it, Ransom right beside you. And in that moment, when you had nothing else to focus on, no other immediate job to do, everything hit you. Holy fuck, you were married. This man beside you was your husband. One of your knees buckled and your steady leg caught the edge of your dress and just as you were sure you were about to go down, someone grabbed your hand and you felt another hand on your opposite hip, holding you up. “Wait to collapse in private, if you can,” Ransom murmured to you, dryly, then basically carried you the rest of the way down the aisle.

You were both ushered into a small sitting room off the main hall for a moment of privacy as your guests were moved into the ballroom where the reception would take place and before you would take pictures with your new husband. Once the two of you were alone, you tried to steady your breathing and shove down the panic clawing its way up your throat. You were married. It had actually happened. It was real. You steadied yourself on the bookshelf beside you and tried to think about what Steve had said. Focus on what was directly in front of you. You’d gotten through the ceremony by doing that, so now it was just pictures and the reception. That was all you had to worry about. You could do that. You could.

“You good?” Ransom’s voice cut through your internal monologue and you turned back around to face him where he was standing on the other side of the small room, pasting that fucking smile on your face.

“Yes, I’m fine. Today is just a lot. But I’m fine. Thank you for helping me, before.”

“Well,” he smirked, “I couldn’t have my new wife embarrass me thirty seconds in, could I?”

Your smile went brittle and a small voice in your head chanted fifty years of this but you tamped it down. Pictures and the reception. Pictures and the reception. That was all you had to get through right now.

There was a light knock and then the door opened. One of the photographers peeked in, a camera in their hand. “Sorry to interrupt,” they said. “Just wanted to get some intimate, candid shots, before we go outside for the formal pictures.” Their eyes moved between you and Ransom and you knew they were measuring the space between you.

You shook your head and tried to keep your tone friendly. “No need, just the formal ones are fine.” You didn’t need any more documentation of this day than was absolutely necessary.

“Oh,” they said, surprised, “well, Mrs. Drysdale wanted–”

“Linda can fuck right off,” Ransom interrupted. “We’ll come outside now.” He shouldered his way past them and out the door. You just smiled and followed him, the photographer chasing after you both.

The pictures went quickly, you both seeming to want them over with as fast as possible. He didn’t say much to you, aside from the occasional exclamation like, “Jesus Christ, is this skirt big enough?” when he tried to move around you or pose behind you. The photographers kept trying to get you to look at each other, but when you did, it clearly didn’t give them the result they wanted, so they moved on quickly.

Afterward, you were escorted into the ballroom, where your entrance was met with applause. Your face was beginning to hurt from all the placid smiling you’d done all day.

You blanched when you realized that you and Ransom were the only ones seated at the head table. You wouldn’t have anyone to talk to.

There was still some time before dinner would be served. You could already see people beginning to make their way toward you to offer their congratulations to fill the time. A server appeared at your table and you asked for a glass of champagne. Ransom requested his usual scotch then added, “There’s an extra hundred in it for you if you make sure I’m never holding an empty glass tonight.”

You could see the disaster waiting to happen, so you tried a quiet “Ransom,” as the server left, not really thinking before you said something.

He let out a hollow chuckle. “If that’s the kind of wife you’re going to be, let me tell you right now, this marriage isn’t going to work. I don’t respond well to nagging.”

You took a breath, “I wasn’t trying to nag,” you said, “I just–”

“Ransom!” a loud voice interrupted you. You looked over to see Ransom’s uncle, Walt, approaching your table. You’d been introduced to him very briefly the night before. “Congratulations on finally growing up and settling down,” he said, once he stood in front of his nephew. You felt Ransom stiffen next to you, but his face just had an obnoxious smirk on it. Walt’s eyes briefly cut to you but then returned to Ransom. “Although, she’s pretty young, isn’t she?”

Ransom rolled his eyes, still smirking. “Well, it’s not like I picked her, is it Walt? You got a problem with it, go tell Mom or Grandad.”

You bit your lip at being spoken about like you weren’t sitting right there. But you knew better than to cause a scene, so you quietly said, “Excuse me,” and left the table. Neither of them seemed to notice, locked in a hostile stare-down.

You’d only made it a few feet when someone you didn’t recognize was pulling you aside to offer their congratulations. You smiled and politely nodded through it and when it was done you were grabbed by someone else and then someone else. You crossed paths with Steve briefly before you were both pulled in other directions. You only got a break when they started serving dinner. You got back to your seat to find Ransom sitting alone, sipping his scotch as full plates of food were placed before you. You didn’t have much of an appetite.

You picked at your food and mostly moved it around the plate, while Ransom ate hungrily beside you. Neither of you said anything. After the second course was served, the speeches started. Joseph mostly spoke about the two families coming together and all the opportunities that represented. You wanted to stage whisper to him that it was customary to at least mention the couple at some point, but then he sprinkled Ransom’s name in. A brief mention of how proud he was to be gaining a son like him. You wanted to laugh. They barely knew each other. As if Joseph cared at all about what kind of man he was giving you to. You were finally mentioned at the very end as he toasted his “beautiful stepdaughter and her new husband. To a long and fruitful marriage!” You wanted to break something.

Harlan, for his part, was much more focused. He, of course, referenced all the new opportunities this would bring, it was why you were all here, after all. But he mostly talked about his grandson, how much he loved him, all the potential Ransom had, and once again, how good you were going to be for him. You wondered if you just started screaming right there, what people would do.

As for Ransom, judging by his body language, he seemed to enjoy both speeches just as much as you had. You wondered if the rest of the guests could feel how miserable you both were and just chose to ignore it. Probably.

When the speeches were done and the tables were cleared, it was time for your first dance. Ransom made it clear by the way he stood up that this was the last thing he wanted to be doing. You tried not to let it bother you, it wasn’t like you were especially excited about this either, and kept your head held high as you came around the table to join him. He took your hand to lead you onto the dance floor and you were once again surprised by the way he held it gently when you’d half-expected him to drag you out there.

You hadn’t chosen whatever song you were about to dance to. You could’ve, probably, but you’d begged off of most of the decision-making for the day, unable to drum up an opinion on any of it. So you had no right to complain as the opening strains of “At Last” filled the ballroom, but you had to stifle an eye-roll anyway. Of course, they went for something that romantic, that cliche. They were all lucky you didn’t burst out laughing.

Ransom pulled you in close with a hand on your lower back, as you put one of yours on his shoulder and he took your other hand in his. It all felt strangely respectful, the way his hand didn’t wander from the small of your back and he held you close but not too close, with plenty of breathing room between you. You weren’t sure how to wrap your head around it, what it all meant.

He was a good dancer, most likely the product of formal dance lessons as a teenager, just like you’d had. It made it easy to keep your polite smile in place as all eyes in the room were on you.

“You’re good at that,” Ransom said.

You shrugged. “A variety of dance classes since I was seven.”

He chuckled. “No, I meant the smiling thing.” When you just looked at him, confused, he continued. “Unless you’re much dumber than I think, you hate this just as much as I do. But look at you, that smile hasn’t dropped all fucking day. You’re having such a nice time, aren’t you? Being the good girl they all expect you to be. Can’t ever let them know you’re upset. Oh no, that just isn’t done.”

You nearly tripped, but you had the good grace to keep going. You kept your face pleasant to everyone watching as you gritted out “And what am I supposed to do instead, huh? Glower and glare because I didn’t get what I wanted? Be an asshole to everyone? And where exactly would that get me? We’re both here, Ransom, stuck in this. At least my way of dealing with it doesn’t make anyone else’s life more difficult.”

He chuckled again. “No one’s but mine,” he said, but instead of just irritation, there was a glimmer in his eye, too, that you couldn’t begin to interpret. It was almost like part of him was having fun.

The song ended, fading into the next, and more couples joined you on the dance floor. Keeping your hand in his, Ransom led you back to the table, depositing you there and grabbing his drink, before disappearing amongst the tables.

Ransom didn’t come back. You'd stayed at the table for a bit, for want of anything else to do. When you got bored of that, you wandered through the crowd, accepting congratulations and trying to find familiar faces. You knew there were a few of your own friends in attendance, but you were afraid to face them, knowing you’d see pity on the faces of the luckily single and recognition on those who were already married. You wouldn’t see much of them anymore anyway, with you leaving for Boston the next day. You couldn’t think about that yet. Focus on what’s in front of you.

You were periodically offered champagne from a passing server and you accepted every time, leading to you now feeling pleasantly floaty. It was a nice break from just how very much you’d been feeling the rest of the day.

You arrived back at your seat, without really intending to, to find Steve waiting for you. He was staring into the corner of the room with a disgruntled expression. “I could fucking kill him,” he mumbled.

You followed his gaze and found Ransom with a group of Harvard-looking bros doing shots by the bar. You shrugged. “He’s getting drunk over there and I’m getting drunk over here,” you said as you downed your champagne and began looking around for a server.

Steve sighed your name. “Come on, let’s sit down.”

He guided you to a chair and then sat down beside you. “Where’d you get off to?” you asked.

Steve rolled his eyes and groaned. “Dad,” was all he said. You nodded. For all that he wasn’t in your situation, as his father’s heir, he had many heavy responsibilities and obligations weighing on him. You were both caged in by this family.

“Does that mean you’re speaking to him again?” you asked, your voice free of judgment.

Even so, he grimaced. “Only when I have to.” He sighed and looked at you. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Steve,” you said, sincerely.

He shook his head. “It’s not.” He paused, then, “I wish there’d been a way for me to stop this.”

“Steve,” you sighed. It wasn’t worth talking about again.

Over by the bar, Ransom let out a loud, hearty laugh that carried over to where you were sitting. Steve glared. “You don’t deserve this,”

You shrugged. “It’s what I have, I guess.” Then before he could continue the conversation, you added, “Can we please talk about anything else?”

He looked at you carefully and then nodded. “Sure,” he said, the sympathy in his eyes almost too much for you to bear, and then launched into a twenty-minute explanation of the painting he was working on. You didn’t think you’d ever been more grateful for him. And you hadn’t even thought to ask a server for more champagne.

The conversation only ended when your mother appeared in front of you. Steve stood up to greet her, smiling warmly, and then excused himself, squeezing your hand as he went.

“Honey, we’re going to go. I just wanted to make sure I said goodbye to you first.”

You stood up and hugged her. “You’ll be there to send us off tomorrow, right?”

“Oh, honey, no. Joseph had something come up and you know how hard it is for me to get around by myself.”

You felt the bottom drop out of everything. “You’re not going to say goodbye?”

“Of course, I am, darling. That’s what I’m doing right now.”

Suddenly, only focusing on what was directly in front of you was impossible. You were married to a stranger who couldn’t stand you. Tomorrow, you would be leaving everything you knew to go to a new home where you didn’t have anything or anyone. And your mom wouldn’t even be there to say goodbye.

“Steve would come to get you, you know he would,” you tried desperately.

“Honey, no, I can’t,” she said firmly and it took everything in you not to burst into tears. “Now, come on,” she drew you into another hug. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

“Mom,” you whispered, your voice so thick. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Of course, you can,” she pulled back and looked you in the eye. “I know it seems hard, now, but it’ll be easier than you think to keep him happy.” She gently touched your cheek. “All you have to do is listen, and not argue too much. You’re going to be such a good wife and mother. I just know it.”

She leaned forward to hug you again and you went stiff in her arms. Everything she’d gone through – two marriages that weren’t her choice, a husband that was so cold to her and her daughter, a lonely life. And here she was, offering you up for the same fate. You didn’t know how you were supposed to bear this.

“Have a safe flight,” she whispered in your ear and then she was gone. You didn’t watch her go. You just sank back into your chair, ready for the night to end.

A while later, you heard someone call your name. You turned around to see Richard. “I think it’s time for Ransom to call it a night.” You followed Richard’s gaze to see Ransom slumped over in a chair. You almost asked him why he was telling you. Then you remembered that Ransom was your husband now. Your problem, your responsibility. You nodded to Richard and thanked him, smiling at him, of fucking course.

When you got to Ransom, he looked up at you and laughed. “Well, if it isn’t the wife!” he slurred. “We were just talking about you.” You looked over at the men on either side of him, equally drunk, and tried not to feel too humiliated.

The crowd was thinning, but there were still people around and you could feel their eyes on you, so you did your best to keep your tone and face calm. “Ransom, it’s time to go up to our room.”

One of his companions snickered and you were suddenly struck by what might await you in that room. You’d been so focused on just getting through the next thing that you’d protected yourself from thinking about what he might want, what he might demand, once you were alone. But looking at him now, as he struggled to stand up or get any control over his body at all, you hoped that you might be safe for this night, at least.

Steve appeared at your elbow. “Fucking ridiculous,” he mumbled, low enough that it didn’t seem to be for you. Then louder he asked, “You need help getting him up to the room?”

You turned to him to answer, but then you saw Linda over his shoulder, watching you both carefully. You shook your head. “No, you can’t. I’ll be fine. I’ll–” Ransom took that moment to fall loudly back into his chair. He was way too big for you to handle on your own. You sighed and looked around for anyone who might help. “I’ll get Richard to help me.”

Steve looked at you confused. “I can do it.”

“I know,” you said, “but I just can’t let you. It– The way it would look,” you shook your head again.

You could tell he still didn’t get it, but he let it drop. “Ok. I’ll see you tomorrow. And if you need anything between now and then,” he sent a scathing look to Ransom, “you call me.”

You nodded, knowing you wouldn’t, as he squeezed your wrist and left and you went to track down Richard.

After much struggle, you finally got Ransom into the honeymoon suite, Richard retreating as soon as his son was safely dumped into an armchair next to the bed. And then you were alone with him. You just stared at him for a moment, then asked, “Can you get yourself undressed?”

“ ‘fcourse,” he mumbled, then thrashed around in his tux jacket. You put a hand on his shoulder, trying to still his wild movements, then tugged off the jacket. You carefully began unbuttoning his shirt, trying to touch him no more than absolutely necessary, but he still smirked at you. “That desperate to get me naked?” he asked. You rolled your eyes and tried to keep going, but a hand on your wrist stopped you. “Hey,” he said, very seriously. He tried to lock eyes with you, but his kept drooping, as he continued. “We don’t have to do anything t’night. Not if you don’t want.”

You scoffed. “Yeah?” you asked. “Is that you or your whiskey dick talking?” You regretted it immediately, you were so tired. You waited for the insult to land, to see how he’d react, but he’d stopped paying attention, his head lolling against the back of the chair. You finished with the buttons and kneeled in front of him to take off his shoes. When that was done, you stood back up. “Please tell me you can get your own pants.”

He nodded, shrugging off his unbuttoned shirt, and stood up. He struggled with his belt for a few minutes, but eventually got it off, then pawed at his fly until he was able to undo that as well. As he moved to the bed, his pants slowly slid down his legs. You tried not to look at him, but you couldn’t help yourself. Under any other circumstances, you would find him so beautiful. It wasn’t fair. How dare he look like that and treat you like this. Just another aspect of this whole fucking mess that made you want to cry.

He stumbled to the edge of the bed and then threw himself forward, collapsing onto it face down, lying across it diagonally. Almost immediately, he started snoring. You just stood there a moment, watching him take up the entire bed. Fuck. It was fine. It’s not like you were going to sleep much anyway. You tugged his pants the rest of the way off his legs and threw them onto the pile of the rest of his clothes.

You turned your attention back to yourself and stopped, suddenly gripped by panic. You tried to reach behind yourself and begin unfastening your dress, but the line of delicate hook and eye fastenings was too difficult to get without being able to see them. And you couldn’t reach all of them anyway. Oh god, you were going to be stuck in your dress all night.

There was no one to help you. Ransom was out like a light and would be too drunk and clumsy even if he were conscious. Your mom had gone home. You couldn’t call Steve. He would come help at the drop of a hat, but if anyone saw him coming into your room… No. You were completely alone.

Every feeling you’d tried to push down and ignore this whole awful day came bubbling to the surface. You finally cried, your body wracked with sobs. You couldn’t control it. As you did, you still tried to wrestle with your dress, but your panic and sorrow made getting out of it impossible. So you sank down to the ground and just let the tears come.

When you were finally all cried out, you stood up and moved to the bathroom. You took off your makeup and took down your hair, redoing it in the way you always slept in. You brushed your teeth and finished up with your skincare routine. Then you went back into the bedroom and grabbed a blanket off the bed. You moved into the adjoining living room and sank down onto the couch, arranging your giant dress around you. You turned on the TV and settled on a marathon of some procedural crime show you were pretty sure you’d seen before. You couldn’t decide whether or not you wanted the night to go quickly.

Tag list is open

@stargazingfangirl18 @drabblewithfrannybarnes @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @citronbun @ladyvenera @rebeccapineapple @alexakeyloveloki @dancer3205 @i-can-do-this-all-dayy @thecrandle

#ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x female reader #chris evans fanfiction #fanfic #knives out #steve rogers #steve rogers & reader #captain america #reader insert #arranged marriage au #ce characters #kris wrote something #more than this

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drefear · 6 months ago

Text

Major in English, Minor in Criminology

Murderer!Miguel x Journalist!Reader

TW: smut, cursing, Miguel is a bit of a creep and a dick. Murder, violence, rough sex, light BDSM and squirting, manipulation, voyeurism, probably other shit, he's a fucking murderer.

This is where your English degree got you.

Tied up in someone’s… garage? Basement? Storage container? You didn’t really know, since you just woke up here. How long has it been since you’d seen sunlight? Your skin felt sticky and filthy from the sweat and grime on you.

This all started because you, a reporter, wanted to get into more serious reporting instead of stupid “Dairy Queen Price Changes,” or whatever you were supposed to be doing. You instead begged your boss to do something more dangerous and cutting edge, which would be the murder happening near the library in your town. You’d been going there to take notes about the crimes when someone grabbed you from behind and hit you with a heavy, lead pipe.

And you woke up here.

The door is metal and the walls are concrete, with a toilet and a sink, and a wrought iron bed bolted to the ground. There’s a slot in the metal door, and there’s blood stains all over. The sheets of the bed, the sink, the floor by the single window that’s been covered from the outside.

You’ve woken up a few times and can only assume it’s been four days. You’ve flipped your pants inside out and used your blazer as a blanket by now, trying to use your resources to at least be slightly less uncomfortable. Even your throat feels raw and gross, having not spoken since the day you got here.

Suddenly, the slot opens and food slides through before you sigh.

“Thank you…” you speak quietly and the slot opens again, sliding through a bottle of water… with tape on the top of the bottle instead of a cap.

“Did…” you begin to yell, “did you drug this?”

A laugh is all you hear through the cracks of the slot and you sigh again. If you were any less sane, you’d think the laugh was sexy and raspy, but at this point, you’re sure you’re just deprived from human contact.

Completely dehydrated and starved since you are basically getting nothing here, you gulp down the bottle of water in no time and begin to scarf down chicken nuggets like it’s no one’s business.

“Um… excuse me?” You call out, with no success. “Can- is there any way I can take a shower?” Another laugh roared through the door and echoed in the room as you bit your bottom lip.

‘Don’t cry, don’t cry.’ Your mind played that mantra over and over until you were strong enough to not cry.

The next day, or so you thought, you woke up stiff and dehydrated once more as you heard another meal slide through the door slot, but you ignored it. You were beginning to hope for death, maybe die of starvation or dehydration instead of giving him the satisfaction of killing you himself.

A grunt made you perk up and you turned towards the slot to see two eyes peering at you in the humid, uncomfortable darkness. A chill went down your spin as his eyes looked red in the dark lighting, like two lasers, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

‘You’re just hallucinating, it’s ok. It’s not real.’

A second water bottle sliding through the slot made you look back to see the eyes once more, just blankly staring.

You slowly moved to grab the two waters and back away, like a small animal trying to escape a large predator.

As you retreat and knock against the iron bed frame, you calm down and think to yourself, ‘I win this round… but what happens when I lose?’

Your conscious wrestles with itself while you nibble on the empanadas he gave you, and shiver on the cold floor. A second goes by before you lock eyes with the man on the other side of the door once more, feeling them first before you gazed back at him. A beat passes before something else slides through the slot. You pick it up and realize it's a thin sheet. Did he know you felt cold? Did he see you shivering?

You covered yourself with the paper-like blanket and sat in silence as he closed the slot, leaving you once again with your thoughts. Why was he being nice?

Hours later and you could hear him walking around, heavy footsteps across the door. Were you… In his house? You tried to map out a few rooms from where you could hear things echoing before you heard what sounded like a refrigerator opening.

“Hello?” You called out and all sounds of movement seized. “Can I have more water?”

A few footsteps came closer to the door, but nothing came. “Please?”

The sound of him walking away was all you could hear before you huffed and pouted. The hot and cold moods were annoying, and you were literally being held captive! You pushed the slot open a bit and saw a bottle of water, open, sitting a few inches from the slot. He was playing games with you.

A grumble pasted your lips as you wiggled your hand through the slot and tried to grab the water, despite it feeling like your hand may get stuck. As you made a swipe at the bottle, it toppled over and spilled away from you. Laughter filled the room as you realized he had been watching, and you tugged your hand through with rough pull, scraping the top and giving yourself a scratch. You slumped your shoulders as he was still chuckling and sat on the bed, no longer interested in his games.

The next day was the same, he shoved the food in with the water, but you again didn’t move. You have no energy or attraction to his schemes to play with you like a puppet. A grunt made you turn towards the slot and red eyes looked back at you, but you shoved the finger into the sliver of light and turned back to the wall.

A few hours later, you sat with your knees tucked to your chest when through the cracks, you heard the voice once more. The rumble of a groan and yawn is all you heard before the door swung open and a large silhouette stood before you, almost reaching the top of the door frame. His big arms held where his head almost hit and you realized that you were in bigger trouble than you previously thought. Most killers were scrawny or at least normal sized, using weapons to kill.

This man was a monster!

You were confident that he could use his bare hands to kill you.

His red eyes glared towards your cowering body as he began to close in towards you. Of course, with your luck, you were already sitting in the far corner of your “bed” as he latched a hand around your bicep and jerked you towards him. Tears pricked your eyes as he turned you around and forced you to bed over on the bed. You felt him begin to tie your hands together with a brittle rope, biting into your wrists with the roughness, and squeezed your eyes shut.

“You’ll take a shower and I’ll watch.” He said, with the same sexy rasp you thought you’d hallucinated. His words sunk in and your eyes popped open like a champagne cork. “Really?” You perked up and smiled a bit. A shower! It’s what you really wanted, but a second passed and another thought about what he just said made you look down. “You’re going to watch me?”

“Can’t let you escape because I was dumb enough to leave you alone in my bathroom.” He answered and pulled you up, practically carrying you out the metal door.

You looked around and saw the cozy insides of a house, pictures on the wall, a centerpiece sitting on the dining room table. He even had the tv on in the living room, a soccer game playing. He was keeping you in his home.

You looked back at him and saw something else now.

He was fucking gorgeous.

The fullness of his lips, the high cheekbones, his tousled and messy brown hair, and deep olive skin… He was basically perfect. You tried not to look so obvious, but you couldn’t help the blush creeping up your neck.

Of course you would be turned on by your kidnapper.

He readjusted you in his arms and basically tossed you over his shoulder, which made you let out a small, helpless squeak, to which he chuckled. You felt something hit you in the back of the head and realized it was the door frame.

That’s how large he is.

You sighed as he sat you on the counter and you looked around as he started the bathtub. The countertops were all bare, and he had no shower shelves or anything to put any bottles or soap bars on. There were three containers sitting next to you: shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. Your brows furrowed as you looked back at him, now staring at you were vacant eyes. He was completely unreadable as he looked down at your clothing and then back up at you. Following his line of sight, you looked down and saw he was just looking at your shirt.

Then it made sense.

“You… you’re going to take my shirt off?”

“I have other clothing for you to wear, but I’m going to cut it off you.” He concluded and when you were about to protest when his eyes darkened while he held a knife. Suddenly seeing your kidnapper holding a knife so close to you made your jaw lock and your throat go bone dry. Your heart rate quickened as he tugged you closer to him and pushed the tip of the blade under the fabric, slicing towards himself. Your eyes focused on his face and you saw how concentrated he was on his knife on you. You stayed as still as possible to avoid him possibly nicking you, and soon the shirt was torn through and you were in your bra. He looked like he was thinking hard as he looked at your bra. The silence was heavy as he just watched you, your chest heaving up and down from the anxiety beginning to really take hold. His lips pursed before he spoke.

“Why were you at the library that night?” His voice almost surprised you from how quiet the room was, and you hesitated before you answered.

“I am- I was reporting the murders.” You corrected yourself as he moved the knife towards your cleavage before you leaned away. “Wait-! The straps are removable… so you don’t have to ruin it. You can just unhook it and then unclip the straps.” You pleaded and he just blew a stray strand of brown hair from his eyes. He relented without a word and started unclasping your straps, continuing to question you.

“So just to get this straight, you went alone and unarmed to the scene where a murderer was finding his victims knowingly?”

You looked at the ground, ashamed. “Well when you put it that way, I sound stupid.”

“You are stupid.” He announced and you bite your tongue, seeing as he was a knife-wielding murderer and you liked your blood inside your body. As he continued to unhook your bra, the cups fell off of your body and your breasts were free. He stared, briefly in awe, before he got back to cutting off the rest of your clothing.

Once you were naked, he just picked you up and placed you into the water before wetting your hair and starting to massage shampoo onto your head. Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out a question you’d been thinking of all day.

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?” You asked and he froze, then sighing and continuing to clean your hair.

“I don’t kill women. I kill men who like to assault or hurt women and children.” He grumbled and you stirred in your thoughts before asking more.

“…Oh.” Is all you could say. He frowned deeply as he began rinsing out your hair. “So… why murder them? Why not report them?”

“Tried that… cops don’t do shit.” He answered and you just nodded, noticing how he was getting more and more sour. “It… started with my mom. I just hate how these guys beat women and then get away with it.” He continued, and your heart strings were suddenly vibrating with empathy.

“So why are you still keeping me here?”

“There’s a few reasons. You know I’m a murderer, you’re being held in a small room in my house, and I hit you over the head with a fuckin’ pipe. I wasn’t expecting you to skip out of here, thanking me for the fun adventure, and promising not to call the fuckin police.” He retorted and you could understand that, which was alarming since you were agreeing with your captor and a murderer. “But the biggest reason is, you weren’t my original target.” Silence fell over you two once more, but this time, it was comfortable… not heavy, but comforting. There was understanding in the air as you thought for a second. You decided to ask the most logical question after being lost in your own head.

“Who was your target?”

His mouth closed to a scowl as he poured conditioner into his large palm and moved to rub it into your hair. When it was obvious he wasn’t answering, you sunk into the water a bit more and closed your eyes while you just enjoyed the way he massaged your scalp.

You knew this was wrong for a thousand, million reasons. Or maybe one reason, but a big ass reason.

He’s a fucking serial killer.

But you couldn’t help it, for a weird reason. The way his forearms looked as they massage your scalp in the bathroom mirror made you want to bite them, to drag your fingertips across the tense, veiny skin. This man was doing things for you that you couldn’t have predicted. And for some reason, the fact that he didn’t mean to hurt you was a huge turn on, that he was targeting men who had previously hurt others or done terrible things. You ignored the fact that you might have Stockholm syndrome and directed your thoughts back to the way his biceps flexed in the fogged reflection. Maybe it was how the hot water made your brain hazy with seductive images of you under him, but the droplets on your skin dripped in a way that had you getting wet beneath the water.

“Hello?” His voice made you jump a bit, the water sloshing up against the side of the tub and soaking his shirt. “Were you even listening?”

“Yes, absolutely!” You lied, but he didn’t look convinced. His eyes canned your face and you knew that you looked flushed, so you did what anyone embarrassed of their thoughts would do and turned your face so he couldn’t see you. His hand held your cheeks squished between his fingers and turned you back for him to assess, and he didn’t seem pleased.

“You’re overheating, let me add some cold water.” He announced and turned the faucet back on, letting you sink back into the depths of the tub and your own self-loathing for your lack of ability to conceal your mind. “Better?” He asked and you just nodded, not concerned with the water temperature. He watched you from the corner of his eyes and this made you nervous. You were being watched by a cold-blooded killer, and whether he killed the bad guys or not, it was still scary. He rinsed his hands and cleared his throat as you snapped out of your mental trance, looking up towards him as he stayed stone cold in his expression. “Since I don’t plan on untying you, I’m going to wash your body, but if you don’t want me to touch you, then I could use a loofah or something, like a towel- I didn’t really think this through.” He muttered and you just shook your head.

“You can touch me.” You spoke softly and he nodded without any emotion, giving you no idea what he was thinking. He began by washing your back and scrubbing a bit, before moving to your arms and feeling you roll your neck to let him get to the nape and around your throat. He was surprised by how trusting you were being, but the truth was he didn’t feel dangerous to you, which was absolutely insane since he had killed people 10 feet away from where you were currently sitting.

His hands began to wash your chest and before he moved any lower, he looked up at you. “This feels wrong, I’ll just-”

“It feels good, actually.” You interrupted him and his eyebrows shot up in shock. “I mean-” You began to blush as you realized what had happened, but he smirked a bit before you could say anything else.

“Would you like… if I made it feel even better?” He asked, his voice dropping a bit as he leaned closer to your burning face. You nodded slowly as his fingers brushed against the bottoms of your breasts, moving to graze your bare nipples and forcing a gasp from your lips. His thick digits twist the pert nubs and you let out a quiet sound like a small animal, giving into the predator in front of it. He keeps a cool demeanor as he teases your boobs and makes you squirm. “Still feel good?”

“Yes…” you whispered and closed your eyes as his hand slipped under the water to massage the rest of your body, pushing his fingers gently through your folds and pressing directly onto your clit. You yelped in pleasure and shivered as he bent his head to your throat and kissed your pulse point behind your ear. r ear. His lips were soft and full on your skin as he pushed and toyed with the bundle of nerves in between his fingertips. The water splashed as you jerked a bit at the sudden sensations and he chuckled, pulling your soaked body up and throwing you over his shoulder once more. “Hey-!” You protested, but a slap to your bare ass shut you up, followed by a dark laugh. Miguel carried you into the room near where you slept and you saw a single king size bed with tall posts on all corners, being thrown to the center before he reached behind him with one hand and pulled his shirt off over his head. He took your bound hands and placed them on the bulge forming in his pants. It was almost as thick as your forearm and long as well. You blushed red before then meeting his eyes and seeing the shining cockiness reflected. You gulped down the tension between your thighs and looked at him through thick lashes as he stared down at your naked body. It was like he was analyzing you with malintent, the look on his face creating a dark shadow clouding over your morals and conscience. His large hand flattened on your abdomen as he kneeled before you and inhaled between your legs, his exhale leaving goosebumps against your exposed mound of flesh. He was clearly entertained by the prickle of your skin and immediately dove into you like a child on Christmas morning, licking heavily into your lips and lifting your asscheek on his shoulder. Your back arched almost so much it pained you as you jumped from the abrupt amount of sucking on your clit, a strained sound falling out of your mouth. You’d never heard that before, but then again, no one had literally sucked and licked the life out of you like this.

He reached up a meaty hand and pinched at your nipple hard, twisting enough to make you scream and feel tears forming in the corners of your eyes. You felt his teeth graze against your sensitive peak and your eyes snapped onto where his mouth was currently on you, eliciting a chuckle from him as you shivered.

“Yeah? You want me to hurt you a little?” He asked in a raspy whisper before slapping your breast a bit. You gasped loud and he smiled, his sharp canines gleaming a bit.

Miguel moved to hover above you before rubbing his cock against your clit, the friction making you tense up a bit before he grabbed your throat. Your eyes found his, and he bent his head so his breath was warm against your ear.

“I’m not going to play nice just because you’re a pretty little thing.”

Without any other words, he shoved his dick in you and the burning stretch of his thickness made you let out a painful whine. The sound made his shiver as he jutted his hips into you even further, his cock nudging something so deep within you that tears pricked the corners of your eyes. He seemed to get even harder when he saw the small bits of pain he caused in you, and that made you hornier. The crazed look in his eyes made you flush and pant while he fucked you rough, practically making you dizzy from the jerky and harsh movements. He grunted as you felt the coil in your core begin to heat and tense, before it snapped and you instantly climaxed. It was the most intense orgasm you’d ever had as he smiled, like a predator enjoying the thrill of the hunt, and you gulped when he grabbed your waist before drilling back into you at a panickingly fast pace. Tears welled in your eyes from the pressure in your abdomen from his violent fucking, but the adrenaline made you begin to build towards another orgasm. This time was different, it was almost a burning feeling in your lower body and a surge as you swung your arms around his neck to help hold on.

“Fuck, just like that, so fucking tight.” He mumbled, and you questioned if he was even speaking to you or just vocalizing his thoughts to himself, but you were distracted by the crash of the second climax and the sudden, very wet feeling on your stomach. A loud, pregnant growl made you shiver as his hips spasmed and rutted into your in a painful way, so deep you thought you may have hurt something, but you were enjoying this all too much to care at all, and he hovered over you for a moment while he caught his breath.

“Holy shit, that was fucking great…” He whispered and leaned down before licking the wetness on your body to your breasts. “You are never leaving.” He smirked and you laid on your back, thinking about how you were completely fine with this.

#miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #angst #miguel smut #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #murderer!miguel #murderer fanfic #murder fic

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marlynnofmany · 8 months ago

Text

Squishy Cybernetics

“Hello!” I said. “Where would you like this?” I waved an arm at the large pallet of boxes, bags, and miscellaneous other packaging. It was on one of our biggest hoversleds, and accompanied by some of the biggest crewmates.

The Waterwill at the loading gate burbled thoughtfully, sounding like a water jug given sentience. She extended what passed for an arm of her own and pointed indoors. “You’d better bring it all the way in. Over here.” She glided inward, moving in that mysterious way I’d never figured out. Someone shaped like a column of jello had no business scooting forward that quickly, no matter how much their lower end rippled against the floor.

But I didn’t have time for galaxy-gazing; I had to help steer the hoversled. Regulations said we needed someone on all four sides for a load this big, just in case of antigrav mishaps. Didn’t want it slamming into something breakable at this client’s facility — or slamming into anything at all, really, but this place was some sort of high-tech manufacturing plant, and I didn’t want to think about what kind of damage a crash could do.

No mishaps today, though. The Frillian twins paced along on either side, all muscles and tight clothes (they’d left the flowy silks behind today; a solid choice). I couldn’t see Zhee in the back, but I heard the quiet click of his bug feet. My own feet were silent in proper Earth shoes as I tugged the steering handle and followed the Waterwill.

I thought we’d just take the thing to the far side of the big loading dock, unload it in an out-of-the-way spot to be unpacked later. But the Waterwill kept going. We passed hovercars and wheeled carts, storage cabinets and bins, along with a baffling arrangement of pipes along one wall. Windows showed glimpses of the busy manufacturing facility. I had no idea what they were making. Maybe I’d get a better look on the way back out.

Oh hey, a human, I thought in surprise as I passed a bigger window. With a Strongarm on his back? What in the world are they making together? I was already moving past, and could only speculate about intricate manufacturing projects that needed hands and tentacles at the same time.

I was still wondering why the Strongarm hadn’t just pulled up a chair next to the human when the Waterwill signalled me to stop. “Stopping,” I announced for Zhee’s benefit. We all came to a halt, and nobody crashed into anything. Hallelujah.

“Here, please,” the Waterwill said. She stretched her arm out into a long tendril to pick up a scrap of something blue that had fallen on the floor, and pointed at an empty space near several foam-topped tables. “I’m needed out front. Heeme, can you oversee?”

“Sure thing,” said a voice from nowhere, then a Strongarm climbed out from under one of the tables. “Found the last of the broken bits, by the way.” Two of his tentacles were curled around pieces of the same blue stuff the Waterwill had picked up. The blue stood out against the dark red of his skin, but not as much as the four mismatched tentacles on other side did. They were a transparent blue-green much like the Waterwill’s own tendrils. I tried not to stare, and failed.

“Thank you,” the Waterwill said. “I’ll be back in a bit.” She set her broken piece of whatever on the nearest table, then scooted through a door that was apparently soundproofed, because a cacophony of whirs and whooshes filled the air until it closed.

“Right,” I said. “Over here, then.” I steered the hoversled into position, then we all worked together to guide the detachable gravity platform onto the ground. That part always made me nervous, since it looked like the giant pallet that could crush me was floating through the air with just a touch of technological magic to make it go. I understand other models of industrial-sized hoversleds have more mechanical-looking gravity platforms, or regular forklift arms. Ours was the glowy magic kind, and it deposited the giant stack of objects with all the precision of the best fairytale enchantment.

“Perfect,” said the Strongarm. “We’ll unpack it from here. Thanks.”

“Our pleasure,” I said.

Zhee, finally able to see over the hoversled, got a good look at who I was talking to. “Oh, I’m sure you’re fast at unpacking,” he said, pointing with his pincher arm. “Does that model form into blades?”

“Sure does!” the Strongarm said, holding up a see-through tentacle that instantly flattened into a shape like a steak knife. “Good for packaging, stubborn latches, and all manner of other things.”

“And stabbing!” Blop put in, to be immediately shushed by his sister.

“No stabbing on the job,” she told him.

The Strongarm laughed. “Yeah, just respectable tool use. They don’t give these out to anyone who’s going to do violence with them.”

I asked, “Is that Waterwill tech? I haven’t seen one before.”

“Yup.” He turned the knife back into a tentacle, then into a variety of other shapes. “One of the perks of working here, for sure. They’re cagey about sharing tech. This is the best prosthesis I’ve ever encountered.”

I thought of the hard metal-and-plastic replacement limbs that were standard on Earth. They would be wildly out of place on this guy’s squishy octopus body. And no amount of interchangeable attachments would be able to beat this kind of easy shapeshifting. I said, “That looks really useful.”

“It is!”

The loud door opened to admit a wall of sound, along with the human-and-Strongarm pair. Which I realized with a start was actually just a human wearing more transparent tentacles on his back.

“Here’s the new set,” he said to the Strongarm, placing a clear box on the table that was full of a stack of more flat blue things. They appeared to be cut into very specific shapes. I might have been curious about what they were for if not for the much more interesting thing to be curious about.

“Hello,” I said. “Does everyone who works here get extra limbs?”

The tan human grinned. “If they want ‘em! And they pass the screening, of course. But you’ve got to leave them here each day if they’re the bonus kind, as opposed to replacements.”

The Strongarm wiggled his tentacles in a taunting manner. “I can open packages and slice food so easily at home.”

The human made a face and wiggled the tentacles on his back. “Yeah yeah, we’re all jealous. Someday I’ll convince the bosses that there’s an actual market for these, and I’ll be the first in line to buy my own.”

“They think there isn’t?” I asked in shock. “Those look so useful! I can’t list the number of times I’ve wished for more hands. Using teeth and feet only goes so far.”

Zhee made a disparaging hiss. “You have that many fingers, and still want more? Greedy.”

“I’m just saying that re-weaving a cargo net would go much faster if I could hold all of the fibers at once,” I told him, then turned to the Frillians. “Back me up. Two arms just isn’t enough sometimes, right?”

Blip and Blop looked at each other and shrugged. “I guess?” Blip said. “But that’s just when it’s time to get another person to help.”

Zhee clicked a pincher. “Exactly so. Or approach the problem differently.”

The human told me, “I’ve had this conversation more than once. Apparently not all species grow up imagining what it’s like to have bird wings or monkey tails or whatnot.”

“Surely other people want to fly,” I said. The expressions around me were dishearteningly blank. “Surely!”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” the human said. “See why I couldn’t convince the bosses?”

“But even on a practicality standpoint!” I exclaimed. “They have you using them here; why wouldn’t they think you’d want to use them at home?”

He shrugged, moving the tentacles in a graceful wave as he did. “Alien brains. I’ve given up trying to fully understand.”

The Strongarm spoke up. “If there are actually a large number of humans who would buy these, then it couldn’t hurt to put together a request from outside sources. The bosses don’t listen to random employees who are probably biased, but they might take an interest in actual buyers.”

I shook my head slowly. “Our courier ship isn’t going to be that kind of buyer, especially not at the scale they’d probably need.”

“What about big human ships?” Blip asked. “We could suggest it to the next one we meet.”

“Or human colonies,” Blop said. “Or large groups at space stations.”

Zhee said, “I heard Captain Sunlight talking about a delivery to Basal Station soon. There are plenty of humans there. You could suggest it to them, if you think this is really that widespread an interest.”

“It couldn’t hurt,” I said, thinking. There was indeed a significant human population on that space station, which might even include the crew I’d met from the droid jousting ship Hold My Beer. They were definitely the type to appreciate some extra arms. Both for working on finicky electronics and general slapfight shenanigans.

“Here, we should have something with the contact information,” said the Strongarm. “Jon, is there a notepad over there?”

“Yeah, got it.” The human leaned over a table and used his tentacles to lift a stack of books so he could pull out the small notepad at the bottom. That may have been showing off. “Here you go!” He handed it to me with his regular hand.

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll see if I can find the right ears to whisper into.”

“Best of luck!” he said. “My partner has asked me no less than half a dozen times if I could sneak my set home to play around with, but I’m not gonna risk the job.”

I laughed, hoping I wasn’t blushing. “Oh man, I wasn’t even going to mention the bedroom applications.”

Of course Zhee had to ask, tilting his head with faceted eyes shining. “The what?”

“Remember how most humans find tentacles a little creepy?” I asked him, pocketing the notepad.

“I recall. It makes this insistence all the stranger.”

“Well, some humans aren’t creeped out at all. Kind of the opposite. They like them a lot. In a, uh, private fashion.”

Jon the human spelled it out for him. “Mating rituals.”

Zhee’s antennae did a complicated dance, then settled in something that looked like disgust. “I was about to ask why, but I’ve decided I don’t want to know.”

“Yeah, best not to,” I agreed. “Anyway! Very useful extra arms. Good for a wide variety of activities. Other humans will likely be interested.”

“Very likely,” Jon agreed.

I activated the hovercart with a nod, and we said our goodbyes. The employees wished me luck. They returned to work while we headed back toward our ship.

Zhee grumbled disparaging things about my species the whole way, but that was nothing new.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

PS: the story with the good ship Hold My Beer is here, if you're wondering about that. It's fun.

#my writing #The Token Human #I probably should have thought up a prank-related story for today #given what day this getting posted #but it didn't occur to me and I already had this idea #plus that might feel like a repeat of 'What’s a Minor Heart Attack Between Friends?'#which I'm going to reblog next just for funsies #anyways the location for this story is partly based on my old workplace #though the noise is on the wrong side of the door #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #humans are space bards #and other such tags #tentacles #prosthetics #in spaaace

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ramseyselfstorage · 24 days ago

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mbta-unofficial · 4 months ago

Note

Over a decade ago, I was working as a human services temp, and there was a month where I took one of the last outbound 71 buses to the end of the line to get to my night shift. Some days, I was the only person left so the bus driver and I would shoot the shit. One day, I complained about how bad it sucks that nothing stays open late in Watertown, because my day job had kept me late and I didn’t have time to grab dinner. When we reached the last stop, the bus driver unlocked the big metal storage compartment near the door, took out a huge pizza box, and offered me a hot slice of pizza. I literally screamed in delight. The dude explained when it's not as busy on the route, some drivers picked up something during their breaks and ate it at the terminals during layovers—the insulation inside the box kept everything warm. Even now, I look at those boxes like a dog looks at a bush where he once found half a hot dog like, hell yeah that’s where defibrillators and pepperonis go.

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alemi-i · 1 year ago

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boyfriend ! jeongin who . . ( NSFW !! )

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

# yjn x gn : reader ! ( smut + fluff ) ;

cw : jeongin is a perv , roughly any fluff but still! 🤗 , groping , slight exhibitionism? , cockwarming , jeongin loves ur thighs , oral ( m rec. ) lewd photography !!

a/n ; just a short hcs drabble bc i want jeongin so bad !! ❣️enjoy my bbs !!

wc : 444 !? ( not proofread. )

bf ! jeongin who loves to grope you, even while you guys are around the members; they dont seem to pay much attention to it, but your cheeks are scorching hot anyway, red and embarrassed by the stunt your sweet lover pulled. i mean– how could he resist? the way his long, slender fingers squeezed your plump curves was a sight for sore eyes.

“baby– stop.. we have guests over.” you shrieked, his brow arching. “look around and please tell me who gives a fuck.” he sighs, maintaining his hold on your ass.

bf ! jeongin who loves when you cockwarm him while he’s playing games with seungmin and / or felix, bucking his hips into you when he craves stimulation.

“fuck, you feel so good around me baby.” he coos, gripping onto his mouse tightly, relishing the feeling of your hole squirming and gushing around him.

bf ! jeongin who loves resting his head in between your thighs. you’re sitting on your shared bed, legs curled up, nearing your chest while your feet are nestled beneath the blanket. you’re scrolling on your phone until you feel big hands spreading your legs apart. you glance at the boy who’s now burrowing his head between your thighs, pushing them back together to squeeze his sides slightly, as the back of his head rests on your abdomen.

“you’re a baby.” you sneer, continuing your business on your phone, while he presses soft kisses to your thighs.

bf ! jeongin who snaps quick photos of you while you’re choking on his cock because he can’t help but cherish the memory of your eyes becoming glassy and wet, and how they prettily look up at him while you bat your eyelashes. whenever his storage ends up full, he does not hesitate to buy more.

“fuck, baby– keep gagging on my cock like that, look so pretty.” he slurred, head thrown back and phone tightly held in his grip.

and of course, bf ! jeongin who always showers you in compliments and praises– outside of sex at least. reassuring you that you’re the prettiest person he’s ever laid eyes on, reiterating how he loves spending time with you and your silly jokes. he is especially the sweetest boy after sex, massaging your sore limbs and grabbing you a snack with a glass of water after you both finish off a scene.

“i love you baby, you’re always so good to me. thank you for dealing with me, you’re so pretty inside and out.” his words coated in honey, soothing the ache in your used cunt.

“especially inside.” he snorts, pressing a soft kiss to your thigh as you groan at his comment.

#skz x reader #skz smut #skz fluff #jeongin x reader #jeongin smut #skz imagines #lemi’s fics !! 😽

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yandere-voltron · 1 year ago

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Shiny Kosmo

Inspired by the Tiktok where the girl accidentally bombs her dog with glitter

"Y/n, look what I found!"

You looked over at Lance who was holding a Party Popper in his hands excitedly. He was waving and towards you and you gave him a curious look.

"A Party Popper?"

"That's filled with glitter! Sparkles!"

You fiddled with Kosmo's hairbrush, pulling out his hair, dumping in it a bag. "What are you doing with it?"

You feel a thud on your head, causing a slight sting. You glare up at Lance, who smiled at you awkwardly.

"Sorry. Wasn't aiming for your head."

You bend down and pick up the Party Popper.

"I found them in a storage closet and I wanted to pop them. Everyone else is busy and I knew you'd enjoy it."

"You just want to pop them for fun?"

"Don't you?"

You looked down at Kosmo, who was looking up at you, giving you the 'This guy can't be serious.' You groan, before shrugging, "Fine. I guess I'll bite. But let's do it on hardwood floor; Glitter is hard to get out of plush things."

----

Kosmo and Lance followed you to the Dinning Room, where the floors were nice and hard.

"Okay, on the count of three."

"One."

"Two."

"Three!" You both popped the Poppers, before you hear a loud gasp.

"What?"

Lance covers his mouth as he rapidly points at Kosmo. You tilt your head, confused, before looking towards Kosmo. The dog was covered in glitter, wagging his tail happily, unbothered.

"What are we going to tell Keith?"

Lance shook his head, "I'm not telling him," He finger guns you, "You glittered, you tell him."

"What makes you think I did it?" You angrily pester.

Lance points to the ground near him, "Mine was blue. Yours was pink."

You frown, before turning away from Lance. We're going to have to clean this mess."

"We? There's no we." Lance adamently denies, but you quickly turns him, glaring.

"If you hadn't found the party poppers this never would have happened."

"So this is my fault?"

"Like most things, yes. I'd say so-"

The door opens and in walks Keith and Hunk. Kosmo was quick to run to his owner, jumping on him. Keith chuckled, before removing his hand and seeing it decked out in glitter.

"Wow, who threw a party?" Hunk jokes.

"Who got glitter all over Kosmo?"

You and Lance both look over at each other, before pointing at each other and yelling, "They did it!"

Kosmo just wags his tail, knowing not of what was going on. He was just happy to be a part of the group.

"Well, you're both helping me clean him."

"Both. I didn't do it! She did it! Pink," He pulls on your shirt, before gesturing towards his, "Blue."

"That doesn't prove anything. Circumstantial at best."

"Man you got to believe me." Lance practically begs, but Keith glared up at him.

"I have a feeling you did have something to do with this. Both of you. Come on, I guess we'll clean him now since I'm free." He gestures to the both of you, causing you both to slump, but follow Keith and his happy wolf-dog.

"Have fun you guys."

"Bite me," You groan at Hunk's joke, but he just laughs you off.

#voltron x reader #yandere voltron #yandere voltron x reader #voltron #voltron legendary defender #keith kogane x reader #keith x reader #keith kagone #yandere keith #keith kogane #yandere keith kogane x reader #yandere keith kogane #yandere keith x reader

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oneforthemunny · 11 months ago

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i'm not entirely sure what prompted this. to be utterly honest, the holidays are rough sometimes, and i've been kind of struggling so here's this bc this is how i cope now :)

tw: mentions of loss, grief, depression.

“...at the tone, please record your message.”

Beep.

“Uh, hey. It’s-It’s Eddie. I, uh, I was just calling to, uh- I was just wanting to check on ya. I haven’t heard from you in a couple of days, sweetheart, and I know you’ve been busy. I just… Yeah, gimme a call back when you can, alright? I still got those VHS’s. Rentals not due for a couple of days. I’d-I’d really like to see you. Just… call me back when you get this. Even if it’s late. Love you.”

The lights on your tree started to blur, water-stained with blinding, swirling tears of guilt. Settled on your couch, in the same crumpled position that you fell into as soon as you got off work, waves of exhaustion consuming you, but sleep never came easily.

The most wonderful time of the year was a stretch, a mockery of a term that felt poisoned and back handed. With every happy, glowy commercial, all smiling families and sing-songy laugh; it made you feel sick at the falseness of it all.

It had been four days since you last spoke to Eddie, nearing two weeks since you saw him in person. Not out of spite, or a fight like it had been in the past. This time, it was you- all you.

The message on the receiver played on a loop, you jammed your finger on the button, letting it sound off its automated message before his voice filled the silent space in the room. You missed the sound of his voice, the warmth behind it so comforting in this frigid winter. It might be better to call him, actually hear him and talk to him, but every time you reached for the phone, you couldn’t dial his number. That would mean you’d have to talk, have to say something, tell him why you’d been so MIA, and that required a strength you didn’t have yet.

Somewhere between the late night talk show coming on, but not before your neighbor’s lights turned off, there was a knock at your door. You figured it was your neighbor across from you, Mrs. Jennings, always bringing you baked treats in festive sweaters, leaving with a hearty “Merry Christmas!” that always had you crumbling inside.

“Baby?” Your body stilled, breath caught in your lungs at the sound, like he might be able to see you through the door.

“Hey, I-I know you’re in there.” Eddie’s voice was soft, muffled by the heavy wood of your door. “Not to sound like a total fuckin’ stalker or anything. I just… I wanna make sure you’re ok?”

Your mind screamed at you to move, to go answer the door, to reply, to do anything.

The lock jiggled, a squeak and a creak before the door was opening softly- hesitantly, like he was scared of what he might find on the other side. “Babe?” Eddie’s eyes scanned the small kitchen area, your purse slung on the table, shoes kicked off by the door into a pile.

“You alright? I-I called you a coupla times, actually, and I just wanted to make sure you were ok.” His voice was tight, heavy soled steps on the carpet.

You knew he saw you by the way he stopped. Halted behind the couch, hovering over a collapsed you on the couch. Tear stained sweatshirt sleeves under your head, an array of photo albums you always kept tucked in the top of the storage closet down the hall, memories sprawled out on the coffee table, creased on the edges from your shaky grasp.

The one closest to you had his stomach dropping. He’d seen her before, the solemn looks and shaky breaths that you and your family gave when you’d pass the outdated family portrait in your home. Plastered on the wall with matching bright smiles, but looming with a haunting, sickening feeling. Eddie knew the feeling, a little too well.

“Oh.” Eddie breathed before he could help himself.

You wanted to sob, felt the burn of it in your throat, curling into yourself.

“No, no, no, I-I didn’t-” Eddie’s eyes darted frantically, reaching out towards you, but never touching you. He knew what this felt like, knew the embarrassment and vulnerability, the shame and dread.

He knew what it felt like.

Silently, he sank next to you on the couch, careful of the delicate photos, placing them out of the way with a gentleness that had you sniffling, swallowing down a whimpering cry. A hand on your back, pulling your body into his, letting the weight of you settle onto his chest.

Your face moved into the soft cotton of his tee. He’d smoked on the way over here, though it was comforting. Nose rubbing against his chest, clinging to the fabric next to you in a fisted clutch. Eddie’s arms around your frame, holding you firmly yet so softly at the same time.

Your neighbor’s lights were off by the time you finally spoke.

“I was in line at Melvald’s getting wrapping paper,” You croaked, voice raspy with emotions, cheek still pressed to Eddie’s chest. You could hear his heartbeat. “And they started playing this song. The Christmas one by The Partridge Family?”

Eddie nodded slowly, hand still gliding soothingly up and down your spine. He could feel your shaky breath through his fingertips. “She, uh,” You swallowed around the words. “She used to love that song. Would always sing it when we’d put the trimmings on the tree. My mom would have that hanging tinsel you know?”

“Yeah.”

“And,” Your tone fell at the thought, at the mention of her again. “She’d always play this song on a loop. Would throw it around, all over the branches just to piss my mom off.” Your lips curled at the memory. You always laughed when she did that. Now you couldn’t because you knew she’d never do it again.

There was a moment, a beat of silence in the still room. “Anyways, I…I was going to get wrapping paper because I’m so fucking behind on wrapping and-and buying, because I’ve been working-”

“-You’ve been working a lot.” Eddie’s eyes cut down to you, carefully.

You sighed, a shudder of a breath in. “Yeah. I know.” It was soft, an apology. You didn’t need to, but Eddie was glad to hear it. Selfishly, he was relieved that his fears that this was somehow his fault, that he’d done something to upset you, weren’t true.

“I just… I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to be busy? I felt like if I stayed busy, I wouldn’t really get to think about it. Get this holiday over with and then I wouldn’t feel so…” You didn’t really know what to say, how to describe the feeling.

“No, I… I get it.” Eddie nodded slowly, staring off in the colorful strands of lights glimmering from the tree in the far corner of the room. “My mom used to wear that, uh, that Pond's stuff to bed. The face stuff with the green lid?” You nodded slowly, cheek still smushed against his chest.

“And right after she passed, I-I was in middle school, right? Seventh grade. And we had a sub and… fuck, she smelled just like that cream.” Eddie shook his head softly at the memory. “She just walked past me to make sure we were reading, and I smelled it and… I just ran out of the classroom because I didn’t want to cry in front of everyone. But, like, running out wasn’t much better.”

You snorted softly, light enough to have Eddie’s gaze peering back down to you, heart skipping in his chest. “Yeah, I would say that might make it worse.”

“Wasn’t very smooth.” Eddie nodded. “Just running out of the classroom seemed better than crying.”

You paused for a moment, lips puckered in a pout. “It’s weird.” You muttered, still looking ahead. “How you’re just out and the smallest things just… send you over the edge.”

“Yeah.” Eddie sighed. “Grief’s a weird thing.”

“Really weird.” You mumbled.

Eddie ducked his chin down, let his nose press into your scalp, breathing in your scent, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I’m here for you, you know?” He muttered, the vibrations from his words tickling your scalp. “For when it gets weird. You don’t… this sounds really fuckin’ cheesy and I’m sorry, but you don’t have to do it by yourself. Don’t have to be alone.”

You weren’t sure what to say. Not sure you could even speak if you did know what to say, the growing lump in your throat strangling you. Instead, you clung tighter to his shirt, pressed yourself further into the warm, inviting hold that felt familiar and calming.

Eddie would go and get the wrapping paper for you tomorrow, even help you wrap a few gifts. He’d help you carefully put up the photos with a gentleness that would have your heart fluttering. But for now, he held you, fingers moving down your spine, chin pressed to the top of your head, pulling you closer to him on the tiny couch.

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