#not to be like. whats it calles. pretentious or whatever. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kennedysbaby · 1 month

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pretty baby — leon kennedy.

wc: 3.1k

pairing: re6! leon kennedy x fem! reader.

content: age gap, smoking, alcohol consumption, fake-dating, two pretentious people engaging in a conversation, leon saying "women", kissing, reader is apart of leon's squad.

honorable mention: claire redfield.

a/n: mmmmmm re6 leon (i'm losing my mind). posted this from my patio because the weather's finally getting better <3.

contrary to popular opinion, dreary, rainy nights were one of your most favorite things—amongst many other stuff you cherished—but you held nights like these dear to your heart. the soft pattering from rain droplets hitting against the window, a warm blanket, and comfortable pajamas, coupled with a cup of hot coffee and a book was, in your opinion, a perfect way to wind down after slaving away at work all day.

however…you just wished for one more thing.

a boyfriend. a man. someone to call your own.

someone who'd let you rest your head on their lap as you flipped through the pages and took sporadic sips of whatever hot beverage you were drinking at the moment. someone who'd thread their fingers through your hair and press soft kisses on your forehead. your entire body yearned for such a thing, but it always felt so out of reach.

unfortunately, men didn't commit, or think, like that. they just took what they wanted like dogs and then headed out the door, not a single care in the world. it was pathetic and desperate.

hook-up culture irked you. so did "talking stages," or anything of that caliber. why would any sane person waste their time and energy like that on someone they'd meet for no longer than a week? maybe you were just a hopeless romantic.

maybe you were the pathetic and desperate one.

none of the men at your workplace interested you in the slightest—as they all had that mindset you loathed. you were a special government agent, trying to save the world from bioterrorism. all the male agents were arrogant, wanna-be jerks. they'd call themselves "esoteric" when really, their favorite movie directors were quentin tarantino and christopher nolan.

you just rolled your eyes and sighed. how deplorable.

there was one guy, however, but you deemed him out of the question. a forbidden fruit, in other words. for starters, he was a good ten years—maybe more—older than you. he also happened to be the leader of your assigned, specific, squad. and ironically enough, a mercenary had him twirling his dirty blonde hair and blushing like a schoolgirl. she was very gorgeous, in his defense.

leon kennedy was just so damn handsome, it had you acting a fool. you couldn't help but swoon when he called you "sweetheart" casually, as if it was second nature. he'd put his hands on your waist while walking past you, muttering a quick, "sorry, sweetheart." he had really good taste in films, music, and books too, surprisingly. he treated you like a real person, not a piece of meat like most men did.

he even made you laugh at his insanely stupid jokes.

you often wondered if you were in love with him, or if it was just a fleeting crush. or maybe you adored the attention he gave you (more than your other peers). but then again, was there really a difference between love and attention?

as you tucked your knees beneath yourself, sinking down further into the couch, your cellphone vibrated right next to you, the caller id reading leon—how fucking cliche. your heart then dropped, wondering why he'd call you at eight pm on a saturday. swallowing the lump in your throat, you answered quickly, "um, hello?"

"hey sweetheart," leon's low, smooth voice said on the other end of the line. it sounded like he was driving. maybe to see me, you thought, before chastising yourself for being delusional. he couldn't fawn over you when ada wong existed. a beat later, he added, "i know this is a little out of the norm, but i was just wondering if you were free tomorrow."

free tomorrow? for what? was this seriously happening? you dumbfoundedly stammered, uttering something so laughable out, "i— uh— are you sure you have the right number?" your whole body recoiled with cringe the second those words rolled right off your tongue. you resisted the urge to groan in annoyance.

and laugh is exactly what leon did. it was short, almost a scoff. "nah. but it isn't what you think, don't worry," that little bit confused you, before he elaborated, "i'm not trying to be some creepy boss. long story short, i need a date for an event."

"a date..? what kind of event?" you queried, sitting yourself upright. your mind was still barely registering the fact that you were having this conversation with leon, quite literally moments after fantasizing about him.

he let out a soft exhale, "one of my old friends is hosting this get together, and lets just say i've been lying to her about having a girlfriend—" leon groaned at how juvenile he was sounding, shaking his head in disbelief. "i'm too old for this shit." he chastised, before getting back on track. "anyways, she's been on my ass about it, telling me i should find a girl, and that i'd be a lot happier, or something like that."

debatable, he thought, given his experience with a certain woman in the past.

"so i lied to her, and said i was talking to this girl, so she's expecting you. you don't have to if you aren't up for it, but i won't let you go back home empty-handed if you do end up coming through."

pretending to be leon's girlfriend—even for a day—sounded like heaven on earth to you.

without even giving the offer a second thought, you said a little too excitedly, "yes!—i mean, sure, why not." a poor attempt at playing it cool. "i haven't got anything planned tomorrow, so…"

leon chuckled lightly at your enthusiasm, finding it endearing. unbeknownst to you, the man did actually think about you outside of work, even if it swarmed him with guilt. you weren't a rookie, but still, it felt wrong. he was thirty-six, he shouldn't be giving a girl in her early-to-mid twenties second thoughts. he really did feel like a "creepy boss."

but he couldn't help himself. not when you were so unfathomably pretty. his lips parted at the way you'd smile up at him, nodding your head as you quickly scurried off and followed orders, or how you'd always offer to help him with filing mission reports—a very tedious task that no other agent on your team would ever volunteer to do.

he also wasn't an idiot, and knew that you held him on some sort of pedestal, whether it be a crush, infatuation, or simply admiration.

"alright, cool." leon affirmed, now pulling into his driveway, the asphalt crackling beneath the tires. he pulled the keys out of the ignition, and shoved them into his pocket, whilst staying on the phone with you. "i'll pick you up around six. we won't stay too long, leave around eight. okay?"

your mouth had went dry by this point, but you quickly agreed, "yeah, sounds good."

what the hell just happened?

…

holding onto leon's arm, the two of you walked into his friend's—who you later found out was the claire redfield—house, and you couldn't help but marvel at the place. clearly, the woman made relatively well money, and it showed itself in flaming colors through her subtle decor. dressed in her classic red leather jacket, she greeted you and leon with a smile, "hey leon, and…the mystery girl he's been telling me about," the woman chuckled. she was so pretty.

you introduced yourself to claire, surprisingly not feeling nervous in the slightest, as you usually were when you meet people for the first time. it wasn't that you were shy, you were just reserved. but claire was sweet. some people take ages to warm up to, but she wasn't like that—instantly likable.

"i honestly don't know how a girl as pretty as her is into you leon," claire teased, a knowing smirk on her maroon lips. leon just scoffed, rolling his eyes as if he was used to her tormenting. "drinks?" she asked, not waiting for you two to respond as she handed the two of you glasses of red wine.

you mumble a quick thank you, then raising the glass to your lip gloss coated lips, taking a sip before laughing, "maybe i'm just attracted to losers." which wasn't exactly a lie—you were in love with leon, or something like that. he just didn't know. yet…

"a loser?" an offended look crosses his perfect features, as he looks down at you in surprise. he just shook his head and sighed, "women." the comment earned a chuckle from both you and claire—laughing at leon's misery would always be funny. he could only purse his lips and keep his peace.

your eyes dart around the room, noticing a few familiar faces, others not. a couple of bsaa agents, sherry birkin—to name a few—and more. the next hour consisted of repeating your introduction to a few more of leon's friends that you didn't know, and leon sporadically leaving kisses on either the top of your head, or your arm, as any "boyfriend" would. he was doing an awfully good job of playing the part.

almost too good. if only you weren't so oblivious.

the atmosphere was becoming disgustingly stuffy, so you free yourself from leon's arm wrapped around your waist from behind, and told him, "hey, i'm gonna step out on the patio for a second."

"wait, i'll go with you." and you didn't protest against it.

leon was fighting the guilt that was regurgitating to the surface, telling himself that he shouldn't pursue you in any way possible. he couldn't entertain whatever feelings you were harboring for him, not when he was the older, more experienced individual in this scenario. but he was weak. so inexplicably drawn to you, like a moth to a flame.

the two of you slipped out to the patio, standing side-by-side as the cool breeze blew threw your hair, the skirt of your dress billowing in the wind. leon stared at you, lovelorn. you pulled a pack of parliaments and a fancy lighter out of your purse, flicking it and lighting your cigarette.

"i didn't know you smoked." leon said plainly. he himself didn't—never did, never will. it was a bit ironic how he was comfortable being an alcoholic, though.

you shrugged, exhaling a plume of smoke into the air, "eh. i'm not addicted, like you might be assuming. i just do it for shits and giggles, i don't know," another puff, another cloud of smoke.

"shits and giggles?" he mused, laughing lightly. "that's a juvenile way to put it."

his laugh alone pulled a smile onto your lips, as you couldn't fight the heat that spread across your cheeks like a wildfire. "i guess. but hey, everyone has their vices, don't judge."

"hey, i'm not judging." leon raised his hands in surrender, a soft smile of his own forming. "you just didn't strike me as the type, that's all."

you just shook your head with a grin, looking away from leon bashfully, trying your hardest to ignore the fact that your heart was beating out of your chest. he was a horribly charming fake boyfriend. it didn't help that you were already pining for the man, even if you wanted to pretend like you could never have him. that was beyond your concerns in this moment.

"what kind of girl do i strike you as?" you ask curiously, turning your head to meet him staring right at you. oh shit. you bit the corner of your cheek anxiously. whatever, i'm probably misreading things, you console yourself. no, he couldn't be. this wasn't some cheesy romcom.

he feigned mulling over the question for a moment, before replying in a tone softer than silk. "well," leon got a little closer, just a teensy bit, and said, "you're a good girl. tooth-rottingly sweet, does her work before its due, volunteers when she doesn't have to, not to mention she graduated top of her class. you're also bit of a stickler, no offense," his sharp eyes met yours, sending a shiver down your spine.

"i am not—!" he gave you a knowing look, before you sighed, "i guess you're right. but whatever, you like jane austen novels," you fired back, "you, who enjoys bands like alice in chains and the foo fighters, reads authors like dostoevsky and nabokov—your favorite movie is the french connection for christ's sake! jane austen is very out of character, i'd say."

leon couldn't describe the swell of adoration he felt for you as you judged his tastes, going on a whole tangent; if he had no self-control, he'd kiss you without hesitation. but he played it cool, his eyes narrowing as he countered, "that's different."

you remembered that stuff about him. his heart skipped a beat, making him feel like an anxious teenager.

"it's different? how's it different?" you retorted playfully, and the two of you went back and forth for the next five minutes over the most ineffably stupid conversation known to mankind. the whole scene was so awfully picturesque, straight out of a movie.

"whatever you say, sweetheart," was what leon said sarcastically, ending the banter between the two of you, even if he was enjoying it beyond belief. it had been a damn long time since he'd felt something this warm inside of him. leon mentally chastised himself for being so self-indulgent—even if he really deserved it.

his pale blue eyes glance over at his watch, reading the time: 8:04 pm. leon then looked up at you, and asked, "you wanna head out soon?"

you take a final puff from your lit cigarette, softly exhaling the smoke, before answering weakly, "hm? oh, uh, sure."

that definitely put a damper in your mood, and leon took very well notice of it. after tonight, you wouldn't be leon's pretend girlfriend. you'd go back to being his subordinate, just someone who he worked with on the field, and maybe considered a friend. you really enjoyed spending time with more veteran agents tonight, more importantly, you enjoyed spending time with leon.

this all only made your lovesick self worse. you felt slightly mad at him for playing his part so well.

"you okay?" leon asked, a concerned expression etched onto his features as he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. his hand, typically so calloused from the rough years, felt so delicate. it was jarring, yet swoon-worthy. he was a little confused as to why you were so upset now.

you swallowed the heavy lump in yout throat, unsure of how to proceed, so you resort to simply mustering up a half-hearted smile, "yeah. just a little exhausted."

"exhausted?" he repeated incredulously. "just a minute ago you were spewing nonsense at me. tell me the truth, sweetheart." a genuine look was plastered on his face, one you couldn't argue against. but it wasn't like you could confess to leon just like that, with zero repercussions. no, that wouldn't work.

he teased slyly, in an attempt to lighten the mood and cheer you up, "was i too mean?"

"nah," you couldn't bring yourself to stifle your chuckle, "it's just…" your voice trailed off, not knowing how to proceed. "well…" leon lifts his hand from you shoulder, up to your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear, allowing him to get a better look of your face. your lips part slightly in awe at his sweet gesture—you weren't by anyone now, you didn't have to pretend to be a couple.

"c'mon, lay it on me."

you sucked in a deep breath, before swallowing your pride, and confessing, "leon, i— look, i know it's not allowed, and quite frankly, inappropriate, but…"

and that was telling enough. he knew just what you were trying to tell him, and to save you from any further embarrassing stuttering, he leaned in closer, his lips grazing overs, your breath mingling with his.

"that's alright," leon cooed, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb. "i'm flattered, really."

his mind was yelling, praying for him to stop and get ahold of himself, but his entire body was working on autopilot, fueling his desires. here this pretty girl was, handing herself to him on a silver platter—how in god's name could he refuse? he was just as eager for her, to feel her soft skin, kiss her sweet, full lips. his breath hitched as your hand lightly trailed up his arm.

his lips then left a soft, gentle kiss against yours. you sighed contently, leaning in closer to his touch, deepening the kiss. leon's hands roamed a bit more freely, crawling up your sides, lingering on your hips. he pulled away for a moment, and mumbled, "you're so pretty baby," a light chuckle erupted from his throat, the sound alone making your heart flutter. "such a sweet girl." he left another kiss on your jaw, then on your neck, his light stubble prickling your skin.

a shaky breath slipped past your lips, escaping from the depths of your lungs. his words alone made your knees weak—this seemed so surreal, but nice. here leon was, a man you thought you'd never have, kissing you as if he really was your boyfriend. you lifted your hands, bringing them up to cup his cheeks, and smiled.

"so…are you just getting free kisses out of me, or what?"

leon shook his head, "nah, no way." another quick kiss against your lips. "i'm taking you out for dinner next weekend. i won't take no for an answer." he stared at you intently, as he plunged right back in for another kiss—this man was starved.

you reciprocated each and every kiss, letting out a soft moan as he slipped his tongue past your lips, fingers tangling into his dirty blonde hair. leon was at war with his mind, his body betraying his thoughts. he really shouldn't be doing this—entertaining the notion of a relationship between the two of you—but he couldn't bring himself to. he was only human, after all.

"fine by me," you replied, pulling away momentarily to catch your breath. "b-but what about the rules? wouldn't this get us both in trouble?"

"again with the stickler act." leon chuckled amusedly. "sweetheart, nobody has to know. this'll be our little thing. we can keep this under the wraps, can't we?—if it all works out, that is. believe it or not…i've had it bad for you too." he reassured you, the words coming out smoothly, as if he'd been planning this moment for ages. i've got it bad for you too.

"if you say so," you conceded with a stupid smile, leaning in to kiss him again. leon pushed away any regretful thoughts, not allowing them to consume a good moment—they were as rare as they come with him.

you both really were a bunch of self-indulgent, pretentious losers.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #re6 leon x reader #resident evil 6 #leon kennedy oneshot #resident evil #re6 leon <333 #self indulgence at its finest #older leon kennedy #kennedysbaby

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rad-batson · 1 year

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The Batkids and The Arts (Feral Edition)

They’re all musical theatre nerds. Every single one of them. Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Cass, Jason, Steph, Tim, Duke, Damian. They go see Broadway shows together then don’t stop talking about it for like a week. It is the one bonding activity they will never pass up.

Jason and Steph once entered a ballroom dancing competition and won after some pompous rich kids insulted their moves during a gala. Since then, they’ve entered a competition every month or so just for fun. (And for the prize money :P)

Tim is an avid believer that Culinary Art is one of The Arts. (Can he cook? Absolutely not. It was Bernard that convinced him, but he stands by it.)

Duke talks through every single movie he watches. He always promises to be quiet at the beginning, but then he gets too excited and whispers commentary to the people around him. This habit has since bled into the entire family. They are no longer welcome at the local AMC.

Every single one of them is pretentious about something.

Dick is pretentious about any and all performance arts featured at the circus. Once, someone made a joke about going to “Clown School” and Dick screamed at them about how not even their pinky would have the privilege of being admitted into clown school.

Jason is pretentious about classic literature. They can no longer tell if his jokes and references to Shakespeare and Jane Austen are correct or if he’s just fucking with them.

Cass gets pretentious about martial arts being a performance art. She is also pretentious about ballet being a martial art. She could kill a man in fifth position without losing her balance, and that’s a fucking fact.

Stephanie is very good at acting pretentious about the arts. She absorbs everything she’s learned from the rest of the bat family’s interests then pretends to be pretentious about it to mock them while sneaking in just enough correct information so no one can call her out on it. (Her true interest is graphic design.)

Tim has no professional experience with photography, but he will be pretentious about it like he knows everything. (Bruce: Tim, why is there a filter on this evidence photo you took? Tim: I thought it looked nicer that way. Really makes the blood splatter pop.)

Duke isn’t exactly pretentious about writing, but he will lay down his life for the Oxford comma. (Bruce didn’t use it until Duke called the punctuation in his mission reports “insulting.” He now uses it.)

Damian is pretentious about studio art. If he ever hears his family or friends say, “I don’t get it,” at an art museum, he will make them look at it for five minutes as he explains in painstaking detail what’s so revolutionary about it.

The kids decided to take an improv class together once for their undercover work while Bruce and Alfred were out of town. It was so fun that they still play improv games when they’re bored.

Cass is secretly a metalhead.

Whenever one of the younger kids needs to write an English paper, they will just walk up to Jason, riddle off a dumb opinion about the book or poem they had to read, and record whatever Jason ends up lecturing them about. The most recent incident resulted in an award-winning paper about how the theory that William Shakespeare never wrote his own work is deeply rooted in classism.

Damian always has paint under his nails. It just never comes out.

Dick has personally taught everyone in the family how to do The Perfect Backflip. They all get a little ceremony once they’ve mastered it. There is cake.

Whenever Cass is standing around with nothing to do, she’ll practice her foot positions for ballet. The others always notice and follow her lead.

Jason: dramatically recites a poem in the living room Steph: starts beatboxing

Steph is always the first to find typos or continuity errors in a book, play, or movie. She doesn’t intend to; it’s just second nature to her. (She is now Duke’s official proofreader.)

Duke: So how’d you like the movie? Damian: I really loved the mise-en-scène, especially during the breakfast scene and that one shot near the end with the warehouse doors. Duke: *nods thoughtfully* Everyone Else Leaving the Theater: wtf is a meez on sen?

When Duke is finished writing something and wants to share it with his family, he’ll give it to Jason and Cass first.

Jason and Duke have frequent passionate arguments discussions about who is the best poet. Never bring up Dickinson, Poe, Shakespeare, Hughes, Plath, Wilde, Kipling, Sappho, or Angelou in their vicinity unless you want to start it up again.

Damian is surprisingly good at acting. Too good.

Dick knows your music taste before you do. He has a carefully curated playlist for every single family member, every possible combination of family members, and every possible mood at the ready.

They can and will correct anyone who mistakes Gothic architecture for Victorian or Gothic Revival and vice versa. (It’s really a Gotham thing.)

Tim: How dare you call The Grand Budapest Hotel the best prison break movie when it’s clearly The Shawshank Redemption! Jason: Well, as someone who’s BEEN TO PRISON, I think I should know! Dick: It’s clearly Chicken Run! You’re all just Chicken-ist. Duke: But what about Midnight Express?! That one’s so good! Steph: Has anyone mentioned Toy Story 3 yet? No? Damian, watching from the sidelines: I liked Escape from Alcatraz. Cass: Same.

There are several art pieces in the manor that have been positioned directly over top of bullet holes and other suspicious damages.

Damian and Duke made an animated short film once for the Gotham Film Festival. Dick and Cass were their models for the concept art. Tim did historical research. Jason helped Duke edit the storyboard, and Steph was the continuity supervisor. It was about a British super spy working for MI6 that saved the world in the late 70’s. It was titled Agent A.

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storiesforallfandoms · 4 months

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littlest lion ~ oberyn martell;game of thrones

word count: 3182

request?: no

description: after witnessing the littlest lion sibling’s abuse at the hands of her queen sister, he decides that not all lannisters are as terrible as he once thought

pairing: oberyn martell x female!reader

warnings: swearing, verbal abuse (it’s cersei so...not surprisingly), much use of y/n, a little bit of a re-write on the canon of got to say that tywin had a second wife and another child so that it makes sense for the reader to be the youngest lannister

masterlist (one, two, three)

Everyone in all of Westeros knew the Lannister siblings to be cunning and pretentious. For the most part, those assumptions were right. Cersei and Jamie were definitely both of those things - Cersei more so than her twin brother - and Tyrion’s general distaste and apathy for everything could be misinterpreted as pretentious.

But then there was their youngest half sister, (YN).

Born to Tywin and his second wife after the death of his first, (Y/N) Lannister was the complete opposite to her older siblings. She was kind and shy, which often resulted in a verbal lashing from Cersei. Tyrion was indifferent to (Y/N), but treated her nice enough. Jamie just ignored her unless he was with Cersei. Cersei despised her sister with every fiber of her being. She never wasted a breath to inform (Y/N) that she wasn’t a real Lannister, despite her being a true born to Tywin.

She tried to pretend like Cersei’s words didn’t affect her. It would only result in more taunting if she did. But (Y/N) had spent countless nights in her chambers sobbing over whatever Cersei had said to her that day. She dreamed of the day she would be able to leave her sister’s kingdom (although technically it was her son, Joffrey’s, but everyone knew Cersei was the true leader), but it felt like that day would never come. (Y/N) was well into her adulthood with no prospects of getting married. It didn’t help that Tywin hadn’t arranged a suitor for her in her younger years, and now that Joffrey was king the task fell to him and Cersei, but Cersei would not approve of any suitors for her sister.

“She needs someone to bully,” Tyrion had told (Y/N) once. “The only way you will ever marry is if you manage to find someone who will take you away.”

(Y/N) hoped that Joffrey’s marriage would bring Cersei enough joy that she would not think to be cruel to her. (Y/N) made herself unseen to Cersei as much as possible while the wedding was happening, unless she was called upon.

Unfortunately for her, Cersei still found reason to call upon her.

(Y/N) entered the throne room where Cersei was speaking with Joffrey. She curtsied, waiting for the two to notice her. She was sure Cersei was intentionally keeping Joffrey’s attention when her legs began to shake, threatening to collapse from under her.

“You may rise, aunt,” Joffrey finally said.

(Y/N) stood straight. “Your grace, you summoned me?”

“Upon my mother’s request,” Joffrey confirmed. “She wishes to speak with you in regards to my wedding day.”

(Y/N) tried to keep her expression neutral as she turned to Cersei. “What can I do for you, sister?”

“Don’t call me that,” Cersei hissed.

“I apologize, my lady.”

“I called you here to ask what you intend to wear to the king’s wedding.”

(Y/N) blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Have you become hard of hearing? What do you intend to wear to your king’s wedding?” She enunciated each word as if (Y/N) were a child. Joffrey was smirking from his throne. He reveled in his mother’s cruelty just as he reveled in his own.

“I...I suppose a gown from my wardrobe,” (Y/N) said.

Cersei scoffed. “Please, your wardrobe is so common. It would be humiliating for you to show up like that.”

A lump began to form in (Y/N)’s throat, but she tried to swallow it down. “I have no other options, though, and the wedding is in a matter of days.”

“I’ll have to get my seamstress to work on a more appropriate gown for you then,” Cersei sighed.

(Y/N) felt a heavy pit in her stomach. It was starting to make sense why Cersei had called her here. It wasn’t truly to figure out suitable wear for the wedding. It was so Cersei could once again humiliate (Y/N). She had no doubts that her sister would have her seamstress make the most hideous dress for (Y/N) to wear to the wedding. It would be an embarrassment for (Y/N), and it would mean it would be less likely for any potential suitors to show interest in her.

Tears were welling in her eyes. She was trying to fight them back, but it was a losing battle. “May I be excused, your grace?”

Joffrey glanced at his mother. She sighed and turned away, so he waved (Y/N) off. As she began to leave, she heard Cersei tell her son, “What a pathetic woman.”

(Y/N) all but ran from the throne room. She hurried out the doors of the castle into the palace’s garden as her tears finally began to fall. Her body was wracked with sobs as she fell onto the nearest bench. She felt so struck and so helpless. She would never get out of Cersei’s clutches as long as she lived, and there was no one in the world who could save her.

“I wonder what it is that causes a lion to cry.”

(Y/N) jumped at the sound of a voice. She looked up to see a handsome man in a yellow robe stood in front of her.

“Apologies,” she said, quickly wiping the tears from her face. “I was no aware that there was anyone else here.”

“No need for apologies. This is your home, you are allowed to cry anywhere you wish.” He sat next to her, looking at her as if studying her. “But the question still stands: what makes a lion cry?”

“You know who I am.”

It wasn’t a question, but he answered anyways, “Everyone in all of Westeros knows who the Lannisters are. Even if I didn’t, your golden hair would have been a clue.”

(Y/N) had to break their eye contact because this handsome man was intimidating her. Not in a bad way. His looks were just making her feel tongue tied.

“It was nothing,” she said. “I apologize for disturbing your peace.”

“The little lion is surprising,” he commented. “She cries, she apologies. Very un-Lannister.”

“I am no Lannister. At least, not to my own siblings.”

A look of realization passed his face. “I believe I am starting to understand.”

Tears were forming in her eyes again. She couldn’t cry in front of this stranger. Not again. It was bad enough that he had already caught her once. Cersei would have her head if she found out that (Y/N) was making the family name seem weak.

“Would you like to go for a walk, little lion?” he asked.

His voice was quiet and soothing. If she didn’t know any better, (Y/N) would’ve thought he was mocking her. But one look told her he was being genuine. A walk through the garden definitely sounded like a good idea.

He offered her his arm and she took it. As they stood, he told her, “My name is Oberyn Martell, brother of Doran Martell.”

“The Prince of Doran,” (Y/N) said.

Oberyn smiled. “You know of my family too, then.”

“One must know all the families of Westeros, as not to let down their guard,” (Y/N) recited. “Or to not make a fool.”

She could see Oberyn look at her, but she wouldn't dare look back at him. Instead, she changed the subject, “You must be here for my nephew’s wedding.”

“I am. My brother was invited, but he was very busy, so I am taking his lace.”

“Well, I hope you enjoy your stay then.”

“I am already enjoying it.”

(Y/N) smiled, her face burning from the compliment.

She showed Oberyn around the garden, the two of them trading stories and getting to know each other. For a brief moment, (Y/N) was able to forget about everything. It was a brief moment of happiness and feeling like she was actually wanted.

They came to stand at a perch that overlooked the kingdom. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden he over everything. (Y/N) was acutely aware of Oberyn’s hand brushing against her own, but was trying not to focus too much on it. Oberyn’s presence was starting to make her feel dizzy, but not in a bad way. It was an intoxicating feeling. She never wanted it to end, but at the same time she was worried about making a fool of herself in front of him.

“This visit has already brought many surprises for me,” Oberyn said.

“How so?” (Y/N) asked.

“For one, I have found that not all Lannisters are as terrible as their reputation would have it. And two, I am finding myself enjoying time with a Lannister.”

He lifted her hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles. She drew in a shakey breath at the action. Oberyn’s deep brown eyes were watching her again. She hoped her legs would not give out from underneath her as she felt them growing weak.

“I have been enjoying my time with you as well, my Lord,” she said.

“Please, call me Oberyn. I am but a second son, not a Lord. Besides, I do not intend for these formalities between us to last long.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You are ambitious.”

“I am a man who knows what he wants, and it is seldom that I do not get what it is that I want.”

Her heart was beating so fast she thought she may pass out, or that Oberyn may hear it. She had never had a man tell her that he wanted her, and she realized she had never wanted someone so much either. In just a short period of time, Oberyn had managed to completely steal her heart. There was nothing in the world that could ruin this moment, or this connection.

What she didn’t realize was that her sister was watching the two of them from inside the castle.

~~~~~~

The sun was nearly completely set when Oberyn and (Y/N) finally parted ways. He had kissed her hand once more and told her he would come looking for her the next day. (Y/N) was so lightheaded that she practically floated back to her room. She was just about to enter her chambers when a voice asked, “Did you have a good evening with the Dornish prince?”

She turned quickly to see Cersei stood at the end of the long hall. Suddenly, everything came crashing back down to Earth around her.

“He is very lovely,” she responded. “I apologize that he kept me for so long. I did not intend to miss out on dinner.”

“It was lovely without you.”

(Y/N) winced. She put her hand back on her door, intending to escape into her room and hopefully salvage whatever good feelings she could from her time with Oberyn.

“I know you are not wise, (Y/N), but I truly hope you are not stupid enough to fall for Oberyn Martell.”

(Y/N) looked at her sister in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that he is not a man who settles for one woman. Everyone knows that he will fuck anything that walks - man or woman. He was already visiting the brothel here before his arrival.”

Her breathing began to increase. “I...I didn’t...”

“Oh my word,” Cersei breathed. “You have fallen for him, haven’t you?”

The tears were forming again. (Y/N) quickly blinked them away so that Cersei wouldn’t see. “He was treated me as if I was an actual person. That is more than I can say for anyone in this castle. I apologize if it makes me stupid because I was happy to feel wanted for once in my life.”

“He only made you feel that way so he could take your maidenhood,” Cersei retorted. “He will not make you a wife, he will make you a whore. And then he will return to Dorne while you are here, weeping over his departure even though you were the fool who fell for him. It will be left to me to pick up the pieces he left behind.”

Cersei was shaking her head as she turned to leave. (Y/N) was hoping that she could finally escape her sister’s cruelty for the night, but then Cersei paused to add, “I mean, really, (Y/N). Why would a prince of all people want to marry someone like you? The last born child, from a second marriage, who has not been wed by the time she reached her maturing age? You are pathetic.”

(Y/N) didn’t wait for Cersei to leave. She shoved into her room and slammed the door shut. Her tears began to fall before the door was fully closed. She didn’t even have the strength to make it to her bed this time. She collapsed into a heap against the door, burying her head in her skirts as she began to sob.

How could she be such a fool? How could she let herself believe that she had finally found someone who wanted her? That she might just escape from Cersei once and for all? What Cersei had said may have been cruel, but (Y/N) knew there must be some truth behind the words. There was nothing remarkable about (Y/N) that would draw in the attention of someone like Oberyn, unless he just wanted to try and get into her bed. He saw her at her weakest and he preyed on that, the same way that Cersei always had.

“Stupid,” (Y/N) whispered to herself through her tears. “You are stupid.”

A knock came at the door.

“Go away!” (Y/N) called through her tears. She wasn’t in the mood for anyone to see her like this, or to have to be humiliated further.

“It is me, little lion.”

She paused. How had he found her room? Why had he come for her? Surely he wasn’t about to try to get into her bed already.

Against her better judgement, she stood and opened the door. When he saw her tearstained face, Oberyn’s expression filled with sadness. He reached for her, and she allowed him to pull her into his embrace.

“I am so sorry you are treated this way,” he said.

“Did you hear?” she asked.

He nodded. “I will admit, I followed you once we had separated. I wanted to see if you would be intercepted by either of your siblings before you reached your room. I saw the Queen Regent approaching, so I kept a distance to hear what she would say to you.”

“Then you heard what she told me about you.”

(Y/N) pulled away from Oberyn. She knew she shouldn’t listen to anything Cersei said, but she couldn’t help that her sister’s words had once against gotten to her.

“I did,” Oberyn confirmed.

“And is it true?”

“It is true that I went to a brothel before I arrived at the castle. It is true that I enjoy intimacy from anyone who is willing to give it to me, regardless of gender. But it is not true that I was only kind to you to try and take your maidenhood. What I said in the garden, I meant it.”

“Why?” (Y/N) asked. “Why would you want me? Out of all the beautiful women that I am sure you have seen, both noble and not, why is it me that you desire for?”

He cupped her face. He wiped the tears from her eyes with his thumbs as he looked down at her. “Because I believe you to be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

(Y/N) scoffed, but Oberyn said, “It is true. From the moment I saw you in the garden, weeping over what I am sure was another verbal lashing from your sister, I was taken by your beauty. You are a beautiful woman, both inside and out. I am completely taken by you, (Y/N), and it upsets me greatly that you are made to think that you do not deserve that kind of love.”

She wanted to be happy by what Oberyn was saying. She did believe him. She could see the sincerity in his eyes. But knowing that Oberyn was taken by her that much just made her heart ache more, because she knew that they would never be allowed to be together.

“Cersei will never approve,” she said. “She will not let me marry and escape this place. If you show any interest in me, or voice that you want me to be your wife, she will deny it.”

“Then I will take you away from here.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

Oberyn looked over his shoulder to be sure no one was around. (Y/N) stepped back into her room and motioned for him to follow. She closed her door, giving them some privacy to speak freely.

“She cannot stop me if I take you before she realizes you are gone,” he said. “We can leave after the king’s wedding and return to Dorne immediately. She cannot stop you once you’ve already gone, and if she tries then you will have an army of Dornish men waiting to defend you. Myself included.”

“How will we get my things out of here before she can stop us?” (Y/N) asked, glancing around her room.

“Pack what is essential,” Oberyn told her. “Just one bag of essential things. Whatever you cannot fit I will replace once we return to Dorne. We can put it in my carriage before the wedding, and once it all ends we will leave immediately. I did not intend to stay long after the ceremony anyways, so it will not seem suspicious if I take my leave so quickly.”

Tyrion’s words were playing in (Y/N)’s head. “The only way you will ever marry is if you manage to find someone who will take you away.” She had thought for so long that it was an unreachable desire to find someone who would want to take her away. She almost wanted to pinch herself to see if she was dreaming.

“You would really do that for me?” she asked.

“Of course I would, my little lion,” he said. “You do not deserve the life that you are living here. Even if you do not want me, I will still take you away and let you live a happier life.”

“I want you,” she whispered, almost worried that saying it out loud would make everything fall apart.

But Oberyn heard her, and he smiled. “When we are in Dorne, I will court you as I should, then I will make you my wife.”

(Y/N) couldn’t find the words to say how much she wanted that. She just smiled, then leaned into Oberyn’s embrace. She mentally counted the days until she could be free from her prison, but then decided not to think of how long till it would happen. Instead, she focused on what she was going to have after she had finally gotten out of there.

Oberyn.

#Oberyn Martell #oberyn martell imagine #oberyn martell x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months

Note

What do you think Divus was like during his student years in NRC?

Personally I think he was a mixture of Ace, Cater, and Vil. A mischievous troublemaker who was also trendy and sociable with a good fashion sense. Since he is the potion and science teacher, I think he was in Pomefiore.

Also I don’t know if this is true or not, but I heard somewhere that Divus mentioned that he was always followed by two lackeys, who I have no doubt are the twisted versions of Jasper and Horace.

We actually already know some things about Crewel's student days from canon (mainly taken from his Unified Exams voice lines and/or from Happy Beans Day):

Trein was a teacher at NRC when Crewel was a student.

Trein says that Beansfest got out of hand during the time Crewel was studying there, which led to there being stricter rules imposed for the current iteration of Beansfest. (It is not known if Crewel himself contributed to that aforementioned chaotic run.)

There was an incident when student!Crewel accidentally overturned a pot of mandrakes. Their screams shattered all the glass in the Alchemy workshop.

Crewel tells us what he wasn’t as rowdy as the kids are nowadays.

He’s still in contact with two of his “henchmen” (ie his juniors) that he met back in school. Crewel implies they aren’t clever, but that he can be himself around them. These two men are most likely twisted versions of Cruella’s hired help, Jasper and Horace.

From what we know of the canon, here are some conclusions I've personally drawn:

Knowing Trein and Crewel's current relationship (they disagree on trivial things like whether cats or dogs are better; it gets Trein riled up), I assume that they've never really gotten along. Perhaps Crewel was a constant sore spot for Trein or was frequently reprimanded for his behavior in spite of having excellent grades.

Crewel has a voice line in which he advises the player to not wholly devote their efforts to studying and keeping their head down, or else they will become inflexible as adults. He also advises them to “go wild once in a while”, but not so wild that professors will scold you. This makes me think that Crewel had a similar attitude when he was a student himself. That is to say, he was a good student, but also had his rebellious streaks and moments of acting out. Maybe he went too far sometimes, which is why he now informs the player to not cause trouble for their teachers in the pursuit of seeking thrills or a break from their studies.

As the sender has mentioned, Crewel has good fashion sense and currently teaches science courses, meaning he must be proficient in the area. These traits make him a suitable ex-Pomefiore student, as that dorm tends to have students that enjoy aesthetics and excel in potion-making. (This is also the popular headcanon within the fandom.

Crewel has what I would call “refined” tastes and interests, such as sports cars. I feel like he also had this discerning eye for quality and trends as a student.

Crewel is strong-headed and asserts himself well. He walks into a room and just commands it. Because of this, I see him easily being kind of a “leader of the pack” kind of guy—a cool, charismatic person that others can’t help but follow or admire, even if they hate his guts or find him pretentious. I don’t know if I would call him friendly (like, I don’t see him as outgoing), but rather he’s just got a magnetic presence that attracts people to him and definitely knew how to navigate a complex social web.

He gives me the impression that lots of his classmates looked up to him or called him “aniki” (as a sign of respect) 😂 (Twisted Jasper and Horace definitely do this www)

Sometimes I feel like Crewel’s leadership capabilities weren’t used for the… best purposes? Like I’m sure he had his spats of immaturity and led his boys to pull off some stupid pranks or whatever. Maybe they put Lucius in a tree so they can all get out of an exam while Trein is looking for his familiar?? But then they all get an earful about it later… That’s just one example off the top of my head!

The student!Crewel I picture is a lot like Vil in many ways, but stands on his own due to his wild side. Someone who is cool, confident, fashionable… with his own set of rules and a slight edge to him that isn’t very Vil-like.

I hope that sufficiently explained my thoughts ^^

#twisted wonderland #twst #Divus Crewel #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Cruella de Vil #Horace #Jasper #notes from the writing raven #question #Mozus Trein #twst resource #twisted wonderland resource #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #Vil Schoenheit #Lucius

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thebearer · 11 months

Text

fall into me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: part 2 of follow me. your date with carmen.

contains: fluff. anxious carmen. mentions of mikey. but all fluff :)

Carmen was sure he was going to be sick. A new kind of sickness, where his stomach felt like it was going to fall out of his mouth and ass at the same time. He changed his outfit six times, slacks and a tie felt too formal. Jeans felt out of the question, and while the very cool guy on TikTok swore that slacks and t-shirts were in this season… Carmen couldn’t bring himself to wear it.

So he wore his slacks, good shoes he still had from pretentious meetings in the restaurant, and his good button down, a steely type blue- the saleswoman told him it really complimented his eyes, then wrote her number on his receipt. Of course, Carmen didn’t call it. He’d never allow himself the simple pleasures like that.

Carmen smoked the whole way to the restaurant, a bottle of cologne in his pocket, which he doused himself in on the corner, popping a mint. He saw you standing there, awkwardly on your phone by the light pole, head ducked to your screen in your black, silk, cowl neck dress. Carmen could feel his heart jump at the sight of you, cursing while he started to jog in the still new shoes.

“Hey, shit, sorry.” Carmen apologized, his chest tightening and burning as he slowed in front of you. “I-I couldn’t find my phone.” Definitely not because I tried on a million different outfits and had a panic attack.

“Ah, so that’s why you didn’t text me back. Thought you ghosted me at your own restaurant.” You quipped, his heart plummeting, face falling with it. You grinned, shoving your phone in your tiny purse. “‘M fucking with you, Carm. I just got here.”

“Oh,” Carmen sighed. “Yeah, good. That-That’s good. Do you want to go in?”

“Sure.” You giggled. “After you, Chef.”

“C’mon.” Carmen laughed lightly, shaking his head, hoping it would hide his burning cheeks. You were ahead of him, reaching for the door, his heart skipping when he saw it. “I got it!”

You drew your hand back, looking at him carefully. The blush in his cheeks spread down to his neck. “I-I got it, let me get it.” Carmen nodded, pulling the handle. You glided past him, his hand ghosting on the small of your back, leaving you shuddering under his touch. It was casual, you doubted he even knew he did it, just a slight usher while he followed you in.

“It’s so different being here at night.” You whispered to him, your arm brushing his while you walked to the hostess station.

Carmen nodded. “I know, it’s, uh, it’s nice to see it like this, ya know?” He muttered. “See it from a customer’s perspective.”

“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” You asked, your head tilting to the side softly. “Why we’re kinda doing this?”

Carmen’s heart fell, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He could feel his own mind racing. Of course, you didn’t think this was a date. Why would you ever want to be on a date with him?

“I mean, yeah, sorta. Here f’you too. To thank you for everything.” Carmen nodded, eyes cutting to yours. Fuck, he knew he needed to look at you, he wanted to look at you, but it was so fuckin’ hard. When you looked so pretty, so effortlessly calm and cool. It made him fluster.

“C’mon, Carm. You hired me, paid me. And you guys have been so nice. Most places are… horrible. Act like I’m bothering them when they hired me. You’ve got a good place, great staff. I’m glad you wanted me to be a part of it for a while.” You smiled, stepping up to the hostess station.

Carmen could feel his heart squeeze, an uncomfortably tight realization that this would be the last time he saw you. He’d been running numbers all night, seeing where he could take cuts so he could keep you, but even then, you’d be gone for at least another two months since you already took another job. By then, whatever you had here, would be gone.

“Ah, there you are, the VIP customers for the night.” Richie schmoozed, sliding behind the hostess stand.

You grinned, Carmen’s eyes downcast making Richie’s jaw tick. “How are you two this evening?”

“Great.” You beamed. “Excited to try this place. I’ve never been here before. Heard it’s the best in Chicago.” You nudged Carmen playfully with your hip, grinning at him.

He gave you a tight lipped smile, hands by his side, trying to nonchalantly wipe his hands on his slacks. Richie smiled at you, glaring lightly at Carmen. “Well, you heard right, sweetheart. We want your night to be extra special, so we have this booth back here just for the two of you.”

“Hey, Syd,” Tina muttered, looking up from her plating to see your head pass with Carmen’s curly locks. “They’re here.”

“Shit, are they?” Sydney turned, looking through the window. “God, Carmen looks like he’s about to pass out.”

“Fuck, he does, doesn’t he?” Sugar huffed, her hands on her hips.

Richie caught Sugar’s eye through the window, a flickering glance that told her exactly what she needed to know. “So, I will have the focaccia out for the two of you shortly. Can I start you off with anything to drink?”

“‘M good.” Carmen muttered, taking the leather bound menu into his hands, knee bouncing under the table.

You looked a little uncomfortable, eyes cutting to Carmen’s before a moment of hesitation flashed over your face. “Uh, I’ll take a glass of whatever you think would pair best with the meal?”

“Perfect. I’ll have that out.” Richie smiled, hoping his silent screams at Carmen would be enough for him to catch on. Fak passed, slipping a piece of paper in Richie’s hand. Richie stepped away, reading Sugar’s scribbled writing: “GET CARMEN BACK HERE NOW!!!!”

“Excuse me, folks,” Richie greeted apologetically, though the two of you weren’t talking. “Carmen, I hate to do this, but I need you just for a second, ok?”

Carmen nodded, sliding out of the booth without so much as looking at you. Richie fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, it’ll just be a second. That focaccia and riesling are on the way.” Richie grinned at you, stepping beside Carmen.

“What’s goin’ on? Did we run out of-”

“-No, you fuckin’ moron.” Richie huffed, letting the door slam shut. “The fuck is your problem, huh? You’re not even- hey, send that to six with the Cakebread white, ok?- You’re not even looking at her, c’mon, Cousin.”

Carmen blushed, running a hand through his hair. “What? I-I’m talkin’ to her-”

“-No, you’re not.” Sugar snapped, rounding the corner. “You look like an ass, Carmy. You’re on a date with her and-”

“-It’s not a date.” Carmen shook his head, brushing it off.

Sugar blinked. “You’re on a date with her,” She repeated, her tone firmer- a mom tone she’d adapted since working here that would help with the baby. “And you’re acting like a total-total…” Sugar waved her hands, stuttering over the word.

“Jagoff.” Neil added, passing through the kitchen for a moment before going out the doors.

“Thank you! Yes! A total jagoff.” Sugar glared at Carmen.

“I-I don’t even think she thinks it’s a date-”

The kitchen erupted in groans, shouting at him irritatedly. “Look at how she’s dressed. If she thought this was a free meal ticket, she wouldn’t wear that. That is a date night dress.”

“That’s true.” Sydney added.

Carmen couldn’t help the way his heart flipped with excitement, looking out the window at you, sitting at the table, nursing your wine slowly- alone.

“Cousin, c’mere,” Richie motioned him, leading him towards the office. “Look, I get you got this whole ‘I deserve nothing good’ doom and gloom attitude, but that right there. That’s good.” Richie jabbed his finger towards the door. “I see you, ok? You guys got that cute little texting thing goin’ on, alright?”

Carmen stilled. He felt like a teenager again, being teased and tormented by Mikey and Richie about a crush he had. How the fuck did he know about your texting? “Look, if you let her go tonight without even trying, you’re gonna regret it. You only got one chance, cousin, do not miss your chance to blow.” Richie said seriously.

“Don’t fuckin’ quote Eminem to me right now-”

“-Alright, alright, but seriously?” Richie nodded into the office, the tiny frame that held Mikey’s note ‘Let it rip!’. Carmen felt his stomach turn, guilt trilling in it. He knew Richie was right and that fact alone made him queasy. “Listen to Mikey, alright? You can have good shit in your life.”

Carmen looked at the photo, taking a grounding breath, Mikey’s voice ringing loud in his ears. “Let it rip.” Carmen muttered, pushing past the double doors back to you.

“Oh, no way!” You laughed. “You don’t have TikTok?”

“No, no. Don’t have time for it.” Carmen shrugged, sipping his water.

“Then how do you watch our videos?” You asked, brow raising in question.

“I click the link you send me and it opens up just on my Google or whatever.” Carmen grinned, shrugging lightly, popping another truffle fry in his mouth. He’d nearly fallen over when you asked for ranch, teasing you lightly. You’d only shrugged, sticking one in your mouth, declaring it would taste better with ranch. You were kidding, of course, it was perfect.

“Wow.” You smirked, finger tracing around the rim. “You’re missing out. It’s addictive.”

“Yeah? It’s weird too.” Carmen snorted lightly.

“Says you! You’re Mr. TikTok Famous and you don’t even know it.” You pushed his arm lightly, trying not to gawk at how firm his biceps were. Sure, you’d definitely seen them while he was working, but… they felt better than they looked. “Should see how you’ve got everyone in a tizzy. Chopping onions and marinating wagyu.”

Carmen laughed, cheeks reddening at the compliment. “Yeah, those comments were…shocking.”

“You think?” You cocked your head to the side. “I thought they were pretty normal.”

“Half of them were asking me to violently punch them.” Carmen laughed, eyes widening at you.

“Well, can you blame them?” You grinned, leaning in closer. “You got nice hands. Of course, they’re going feral. I knew what I was doing with that shot. Giving the people what they want.”

Carmen blushed furiously, hoping you couldn’t see under the low light of the restaurant. “Nah, c’mon.” He looked down at his fingers, etched with tattoos.

“You c’mon.” You grinned, reaching out a little daringly to trace a finger over his veins. You’d blame the wine for your boldness, but Carmen shivered under your touch. “You’ve got hot hands. No wonder they all go so crazy. You’re a pretty chef with good hands.”

Carmen knew you had to see his blush now, sure his body temperature went up ten degrees, heart beating so bad in his chest he was sure he wasn’t going to make it another course. “Uh,” Carmen laughed, running his free hand over his mouth, hoping to hide some of his grin. He didn’t dare move his hand from his. “Well, thanks, I guess. I, um, I wanna say I think the same.”

You lifted a brow, biting back a laugh when he stuttered, his eyes widening. Your giggles were infectious to him, a stream of his own nervous laugh spilling out of his throat. “No, I-I meant- fuck, I meant… I, uh, I think you’re pretty.”

There was a pause, your own teeth pulling in your lip, grinning shyly at him. “Really?” You asked. You felt like you were in junior high again, finding out the boy on the JV team like liked you. It was giddy, the feeling in your chest. Warm, your heart skipping a beat.

“Yeah.” Carmen nodded, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “Beautiful, really.”

“Well, thank you.” You grinned, hoping to hide your smile behind your own glass of wine. Fak came by, dropping your next course off, a temporary relief for the moment, letting the two of you get yourselves together.

“You think he’ll do it?” Sugar asked, pretending to roll silverware while Richie handed them to her. A meaningless job that just so happened to be by the window, so they could see the two of you.

“I dunno. Could go either way.” Richie sucked in a breath. “He seems to be close, ya know? Think he has it in him to do it, just… fuck, I hope he does.”

“Me too.” Sugar sighed. “Can you hear what they’re saying? It looks… nice? So that’s gotta be good, right?”

“Yeah, hopefully…” Richie hummed, squinting to try and make out the words you were whispering to each other. The two of you were pressed together, migrated together as the meal went on until you were huddled, like it was the two of you.

“I really don’t want you to leave.” Carmen admitted, body pressed to yours, hand in yours in the dim light of the booth. Everyone had left, all the patrons shuffled out and escorted to their cars. Some of the kitchen staff went home, but some stayed, pretending to be extra tedious with their cleanup so they could see the two of you.

“I know. I’m having such a good time with you.” You agreed, tilting your chin up to look at him, lashes batting, eyes a little glossy from the wine.

“No- I mean, yeah I-I’m having a good time with you, too. But I meant… leave forever.” Carmen admitted, the lump in his throat growing more and more with each word. “I really liked having you here.”

“I liked being here.” You hummed, tongue running over your bottom lip lightly. “It was a lot of fun. I liked spending time with you.”

“Yeah? I liked spending time with you too. A lot.” Carmen admitted. “And I… I want to keep spending time with you?” It came out more as a question, all hopeful eyes and a rounded gaze. “If-If you want to-”

“-Yeah.” You grinned. “I wanna keep spending time with you. I like being with you, Carmen.”

“Yeah? Really?” Camren was half convinced he was hallucinating.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “If you wanna spend some more time with me too. I’d like to get to know you more, and not to just write a staff spotlight on.” You giggled, his lips curling at the sound. “To, like, really get to know you.”

“I would… yeah, I’d like that. Like to get to know you too.” Carmen nodded.

There was a pause, the tension between the two of you was thick. Your eyes darted from his lips back to his eyes, already leaning closer. Carmen could feel his stomach lurch with nerves, Mikey’s voice ringing over and over and over.

Let it fuckin’ rip, Carmen thought before he moved in, lips on yours. His hands were clammy cradling your jaw but you didn’t seem to mind, your own arms snaking their way around his neck, pulling him closer, deeper into the kiss.

“Holy shit!” Richie gasped, dropping the fork. “Look! Fuckin’ look!”

The staff clambered around to huddle by the window, watching the two of you kiss, pulling apart with small smiles, before going back in. Carmen’s hands sliding down your back, your arms, your waist- fuck, he just loved feeling you like this, and he hadn’t even felt all of you. Yet.

“He fuckin’ did it.” Richie grinned, awing at Carmen. “Hey, Sug, might be a bad time, but I believe I’m owed fifty dollars.”

You pulled apart, grinning at Carmen, still huddled close together, his hands rubbing the silk fabric of your dress, your sliding through the curls on the nape of his neck. Your mind was dizzy, the rush of adrenaline, emotion, and buzzing from the wine.

“What’re you doin’ tomorrow?” Carmen asked.

“Nothing.” You hummed. “Why? You’ve got something in mind?”

“Not-Not right now, actually.” Carmen admitted with a small laugh. “But I’d love to do something with you.”

“Me too.” You smiled.

Carmen looked around, catching his staff standing in the window, rolling his eyes when they darted after he caught them, scampering in different directions. “Um, it’s gettin’ kinda late.” Carmen looked at you, fingers drumming on his thigh- that was still touching yours.

“Yeah.” You nodded, looking at your phone. “I guess I should go, and I’ll, um, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Carmen nodded, sliding out of the booth then offering his hand to help you. “Did you walk here?”

“No, I took the L.” You walked towards the door beside him. It was quiet, the soft hum from the kitchen, the muffled clatters of pots and pans being put away.

“Me too. I’ll ride back with you?” Carmen offered.

“I thought you lived like three blocks away?” You giggled, tilting your head to the side. “And I’m in the opposite direction.”

“Yeah, I-I do.” Carmen nodded. “I just… You shouldn’t ride alone at night, ya know? Shit could happen and… I don’t want it to. To happen to you.”

You could feel the heat flushing through your cheeks, through your chest. You laughed lightly. “Is this your way of trying to come home with me?” You lifted a brow playfully.

“No! No.” Carmen shook his head, flustered, which made you laugh harder.

“I’m kidding, Carm.” You giggle, reassuring him. “But… if you wanted to come stay the night. Since it’s late… and you’re insisting on coming with me on the L.”

“I don’t wanna make-make it weird, or come off like that. I-I really am… I like you.” Carmen stuttered. Fuck, there was nothing more tempting than that invite, but Carmen didn’t want to fuck this up. He really didn’t want to fuck this up.

“I mean, stay over so we can talk more.” You gave him a pointed look. “We were having a good conversation. Weren’t we?”

“Yeah, no, yeah. Yeah, we were.” Carmen stuttered, hand on the door, twisting the lock though his eyes never left yours.

“So… You want to come over then? Finish telling me about Copenhagen? Please?” And how could Carmen say no, his head spinning with excitement when he walked out behind you, letting the door fall shut, your arm looping around his while you walked towards the L.

Richie ran to the front, pushing the door open with Sugar and Tina, watching the two of you walk towards the station. “Good job, Cousin.” Richie muttered.

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lizthewriter · 5 days

Text

red wine supernova / regina george

SUMMARY regina george has made you the new victim of her attention. it's a different kind of attention than you expected from her.

QUOTE "she was a playboy, bridgette bardot, / she showed me things i didn't know, / she did it right there, out on the deck, / put her canine teeth in the side of my neck," - red wine supernova by chappell roan

WORD COUNT 1.1K

WRITTEN 6.3.2024

you've always been introverted and shy - some people were loud, rambunctious, easily likeable. easily sociable. it had never been that easy for you - anxiety rumbling at the bottom of your stomach every time you spoke to someone new, hands trembling and voice stuttering as you spoke in front of the class. it didn't help when others began to tease you for it - it only made you more reclusive.

but then, she noticed you. everyone knew who she was. regina george. queen bee of the mean girls, the plastics, the fake and bake's, whatever people liked to call them these days. and believe me, no one wanted to be noticed by regina george, not the way she noticed you.

it started out as small, targeted comments in the lunch line. on your clothes, on the foos you ate, on the way you did your hair. cute, girly tips hidden behind the pretentiousness of a pig with lip glass. okay, perhaps that was taking things way too far. she was gorgeous and she wasn't completely terrible. you just couldn't figure out why you were so special to be one of the few victims of her attention and insults.

but now she was making it obvious to everyone that she had taken some odd liking to you. swinging her arm around your shoulder and calling you pet, playing with your hair and giving you beauty tips with thinly veiled conceit, things like that.

you tried to stay away from her as much as possible, but unfortunately that was impossible. world history and of course, for your final project, you abaolutely had to be thrown with her.

regina plopped down in the seat next to you as people scattered across the room to find their project partner. aaron was sitting practically next to her, but she wasn't even watching him. she seemed to give all her attention to you lately. "hey babes, looks like we're stuck together."

you laughed nervously. "yeah, looks that way," you responded in a small tone, staring down at your notes. "so i was thinking, i'm very educated in world war two discourse, i was hoping we could do our project on -"

"you know, you should totally come over my house this weekend." most of your classmates around you froze and glanced towards regina. she never invited anyone but the plastics at her house. "i can show you how to do makeup - i'll even let you borrow my lip gloss."

"you never let me borrow your lip -"

"oh my god, will you stop taking things so personally gretchen?" regina responded, not even turning around in her chair to face gretchen, who was sitting behind her. regina gestured to gretchen and rolled her eyes, finally returning all her attention to you. she grabbed your hand and started to trial her fingernail around your hand in circles. "what do you say, pet?"

"umm, i'll bring my notebook so we can work too," you responded in an uncertain tone.

"great!"

"and don't worry girls, if you want to have a party, i still have all of my old nas cd's downstairs!" regina'a mother exclaimed as she left the room. you and regina were situated on her bed, sitting rather close to one another. as you reached to pull your notebook out of your bag, regina pushed your hand back down so that your notebook was firmly back in it's place.

"don't be a bore, let's have some fun first," regina responded with a roll of her eyes, popping her lollipop back in her mouth. she grabbed you by the arm and hauled you all the way over to her vanity, turning on the lighting and grabbing all the possible makeup in sight. "we are giving you a makeover."

she grinned at you, and in that moment you couldn't tell if it was genuine or not. you decided to go along, for the sake of it - why upset her now? she could have her fun with you and then you could go back to working on your project. "all right, i guess."

she started to pull out all sorts of makeup application devices you either recognized and didn't use or had never seen at all. she tapped her phone and punk rock music began to blare through the speakers in her room - you found yourself suprised at her music taste but said nothing, only tapping your feet along to the beat.

she began by brushing your hair and pulling it back with a headband, giving her free reign to do whatever she wanted to your face. she started out with skincare, washing your face and applying a face mask.

"so, what do you like to do in your free time, or whatever?" regina asked you in a bored tone, though her eyes seemed rather interested as she looked down at you. enamored, almost, but that must have been a trick of the light.

you started to name a few hobbies but before you knew it, the two of you were deep into conversation about various different things and surprisingly, as she did your makeup, you found yourself opening up to her, becoming louder and louder, while she somehow became more dormant - less mean and commanding and more, understanding and listening.

"okay, take a look!"

you turned around and faced yourself in the mirror. you smiled widely as you felt rather pretty, wearing the makeup regina had put on you, sparkly yellow eyeshadow and pink mascara. you saw regina biting her bottom lip as she looked at you in the mirror - suddenly you felt shy again and felt a blush fall over your cheeks.

"how do you like it?" regina asked as she turned you to face her.

"i feel really pretty . . . thanks," you mumbled shyly, staring down at your feet

"you are really pretty," she told you in a low tone, placing her finger under your chin and raising your head so you met her eyes. "you're so fucking dumb, how long will it take you to realize i like you, pet?"

she laughed at your confounded expression. you felt your face turn a tomato red and you buried your face in your hands, feeling embarrassed. "i thought you were making fun of me!" you exclaimed between your fingers.

"i was endearingly teasing you, or whatever," regina said in a defensive tone, though she was still falling over laughing at your expression.

"this isn't a prank, right?"

"of course not! now let's finish this dumb project so i can take you out on a date, hoe."

#regina george x you #regina george x reader #— [ glizzy posts ☆ ]#my writing #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my fic #writing #fanfic #harry potter

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runa-falls · 1 year

Text

scratches and bites - 3

pairing: miguel o'hara x reader

warnings: explicit 18+, use of demeaning names, biting/marking/scratching, use of venom, a small amount of blood, unprotected sex, creampie (whoops), cumplay (whoops 2x), slight size kink (whoops 3x), bondage (0-0), feelings (bleh), needy wittle miguel :P

a/n: uhhh, this may have gotten away from me -- went from 1k to 4k real fast (or slow bc i'm a slow writer hehe)

summary: miguel o'hara is a grumpy man and you make him grumpy. you regularly go against his orders, create chaos, and invite danger. this is what happens when he's had enough.

w/c: 4.2k

series masterlist | main masterlist

----

“Clean-up crew is on the way. You,” He points sharply in your direction, “come with me.” He roughly passes by you, purposely clipping the edge of your shoulder.

You sulk slightly and follow him into the portal, mood effectively ruined.

Everything worked perfectly in your eyes. You were able to save the family and a few people inside the building. You even had time to pick up a free hotdog.

“It’s on the house for you, Spider-Woman! Thanks for saving the day!”

“Aw, thanks, dude.”

Of course, before you could take a bite of your well-earned lunch, O’Hara’s hulking figure was standing over you. He’s angry.

Gwen wisely scurried off before you all got to the portal and Jess had better things to do than deal with whatever was going on between the two of you. So you’re effectively alone now. Great.

“The fuck did you think you were doing out there?” Miguel’s voice booms off the high ceilings of his office as he leads you toward his desk. He has this pretentiously slow platform that he loves to use to look down on people. You feel like a student that got called to the principal's office. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed–or worse, gotten someone else pulled into your fucking mess.”

You roll your eyes as soon as he passes, “Oh, come on O’Hara, you were about to bail on a car full of people and left a bunch of workers in the crumbling building because nothing is more important than your dumbass box of scraps and wires!”

He turns stiffly, jaw clenching at your words, but his eyes roam to anything else in the room but you. Like always. “You know we’ve been looking for that equipment for months. If we have any chance to hold back this multiverse annihilator even a few days, we’re gonna take it.” Miguel is as curt as ever, stance stiff as he tries to pretend he’s unaffected. Like he’s convincing himself he’s doing the right thing. And what you did was wrong.

“There were four of us out there, Miguel,” His eyes briefly meet yours at the sound of his given name. Something he has rarely heard you say since you’ve been in Nueva York. “The package was barely a struggle for one of us! You’re telling me we needed four hands to locate and retrieve that shit?” You gesture over to the crate resting on his computer platform.

He sighs like he’s tired of hearing your voice. Tired of being in the same room as you. His hand smooths over his face, “That’s not the point, Kid.” You could feel warmth blooming inside of your chest at his choice of words. It’s demeaning, and he knows it. As much as you hate him right now, you’re also loving this. You’re finally getting the chance to express all the frustration he’s inspired in you. And it’s satisfying to watch him get all wound up because you actually made the right move. He just can’t admit it.“What you did was beyond idiotic. You could’ve–”

“Well, I didn’t. And I’m not a fucking kid.” You spit out the words. His eyes immediately darken as you raise your voice. Bright cherry to rich blood.

Miguel rolls his shoulders back from annoyance and briefly closes his eyes. Irritated. You seem to always irritate him. His jaw is tight, and right under his full top lip you can almost make out– “What did I say about interrupting me?” He’s seething, head tilted slightly as pushes away from his desk and off the platform to you.

His deep voice is so low that you swear you can feel it surrounding you, vibrating the warm air that clings to the thin treads of your suit. “You’re so…” His fists clenched tightly and tension rolls off of him, crashing into you like a wave. “Difficult.” You try to stay brave and hold your head up, unwilling to cower under his superficial anger. “So fucking irritating.”

This is getting nowhere.

“So that’s why you called me in, hm?” Your voice comes out more breathless than you intended, but really, it’s his fault. This whole time he’s been inching closer and closer to you, taking up all your space. “To call me petty names? Tell me all the things that are wrong with me?” You have to crane your neck to maintain eye contact with him, he’s so close.

“No.” He drawls the word, his voice deep and muffled. Then you realize. His fangs. The stark change of the air in the room was enough to make your breath hitch. You suddenly feel trapped.

“I brought you here,” There are only a couple of inches separating your chest from touching his and you swear you can feel his body heat radiating off of him, almost simmering under his suit. “To teach you a lesson.” He leans down slightly, closing in the height distance between the two of you. You haven’t been this close to him since that night.

“W-what kind of lesson?”

“The kind that’ll persuade you to follow the rules.” Your knees nearly buckle as each word is lightly whispered next to your ear. He keeps his hands to himself, but it still feels like he’s wrapping himself around you. “To listen to me. Like a good girl.” Just as your body begins to mirror his and lean into his space, he backs up and strolls back to his desk.

Your eyes instantly lower and stay locked onto his spotless steel floors as you listen to him slowly walk away. You feel your face heat in embarrassment as you become more self-aware of the way your body reacted to him. He hadn’t even touched you.

“Come here.” Your head tilts up slightly at the sound of his voice. He’s sitting back on his desk chair, legs spread confident and inviting as he watches you watch him through hungry eyes. He can tell your mind is brimming with overlapping thoughts as you decide whether to listen to him or not.

Some part of you worries you’re being lured into a trap. That O’Hara, one of the least genuine people you know, is playing with you. But your body doesn’t really seem to care, already moving until your ankles meet the edge of the barely floating platform. The air around you is cool and empty without his presence. Your body craves more of Miguel’s natural heat.

“...Closer.” You shuffle over until you’re a couple of feet away, fingers twisting together with uncertainty. He’s looking at you, leering at you. Virtually devouring you with that scarlet stare of his. If he wanted, he could reach over and pull you closer, eliminating the space between you, but he decidedly doesn’t, clearly wanting you to come to him.

“Don’t worry, honey, I don’t bite – oh wait,” He grins at his own joke, fangs proudly poking out from under his plump lips. You don’t realize how hard you're biting your lip until it starts to seriously sting. Your teeth release your aching lip and his gaze follows the action before meeting your eyes.

“Unless you want me to.” You haven’t uttered a word in a while and you don’t really want to. You’re completely content to continue to soak in the words that slip from his tongue. “Do you?”

Yes.

“Do I…”

“...want me to bite you.” He openly runs his soft tongue over the contours of his fangs.

Yes.

“B-bite…?”

“Mhm. Make you all numb and pliant for me?” He finally reaches over and gently tugs you closer by your arm. You let him. “That what you want, hermosa?” Your body slots seamlessly in the space between his thighs. His face cradles perfectly into the crook of your neck. You sigh, subconsciously leaning closer as his tender lips hover sweetly over your covered throat.

He whispers, barely audible against your skin, “Promise it’ll only hurt for a second.”

Yes.

“Yes.”

He doesn’t waste any time.

A hand drifts up your arm to the flexible collar of your suit. He tugs it down lightly, revealing your bare skin to the cool air. It’s not enough for him. With a hushed tear, he uses a claw to split the fabric down to the top of your shoulder, giving him more access to your body. He pushes your hair back and nudges himself closer to you, nose nestling where your neck meets your shoulder. He breathes you in. “Sweet.” His voice barely carries with how soft he says it.

The balmy heat of his breath sweeps along the side of your neck before his lips finally connect. His hands trail against your waist, slowly caressing you as he slowly presses kisses into your skin, trailing his lips down until he finds the spot. You tilt your head to the side as you feel the light scratch of his fangs.

“Hold on to me, baby.” Your gloved hands grip his thick forearms. He bites down.

It hurts in the beginning like you thought it would. Like he said it would. You try to disguise your wince, but you can’t stop the way your body flinches at the sensation. It’s intense, the sharp pain, and it spreads, traveling down from your neck to your toes.

And then, something clicks. It vanishes. That ache gets replaced with an endless warmth that relaxes every muscle in your body. Your hands, once clenched around Miguel, begin to loosen so the only thing that’s holding you up is him.

Everything touching your skin feels amazing. The heat of his hands. The suit that's starting to slowly fall down your shoulder.

Your eyes glaze over with pleasure as you watch him pull away from your body to look at you. His tongue pokes out, swiping over his bottom lip to collect the mixture of residual venom and your blood. Are you bleeding? You lean closer and your hands reach out for his shoulders.

“That good, hm?” Even his voice feels good.

You use his solid form to keep you steady as you boldly crawl onto his lap, “Really, really, good.” He hums and you feel his chest vibrate against yours. His arms easily wrap around your form as he waits patiently for you to get comfortable on top of him.

In this moment you realize how this will change everything. And you’re not talking about the bit.-- Ok, not just the bite.

It’s seeing him like this that flips your world. Feeling his touch. The gentle way he holds you against him and the patient way he lets your fingers trail down his strong chest until you’ve decided you’ve had enough. He makes you feel special. Wanted. Everything that you’ve craved since you followed him here. The same thing he offered you before taking it away.

So you’re scared. You don’t know if you could ever let this go because you know you’ll always yearn for moments like this. If he pushes you away again…

The fog in your head dissipates and it’s like you’re waking up. You catch his eye and his brows furrow. He senses something’s wrong. His hand cradles yours and gives you a comforting squeeze.

“What is it?”

“Don’t leave me.”

“What do you mean?” His eyes are sincere as they try to read your crestfallen expression.

“Just…” You exhale slowly and rest your forehead against his shoulder. “Don’t do this then walk away, Miguel.” Your words hang in the air for a few seconds as he takes them in.

Great, you ruined the mood. “Look, Miguel, I–” He softly lifts your head and leans in to press his forehead against yours. You’re so close he could probably feel your eyelashes brush against his cheeks.

“Sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.” He draws you in and kisses you deeply, taking your breath away with his tender touch. It feels like a promise like he’s signing the dotted line of your heart. “I’m yours.” It’s whispered against your lips when he pulls back and you can help the grin that sprouts from his words. He matches it.

“Yeah?”

You’re pulled back in, “Mhm…” Muffled, but absolute.

Kissing Miguel is exactly how you imagined it to be: addictive.

Maybe it’s the residual venom left on his tongue, but the way he moves against you, mouth and body, makes your legs tremble. Makes you ache for him.

You melt against him, drunk on his taste and leaning in for more. His hands go from cradling your face and delicately tracing your neck to massaging your thighs, hands practically draping over you with the size difference.

He delicately licks into your mouth, greedily taking in every aspect of your taste. Your lips vibrate excitingly when his tongue brushes against them, they’re super sensitive from how long he’s been working them.

You feel him under you, nestled achingly against your ass. He throbs eagerly every time you let out a breathless sigh or a muffled moan. You’re no better. You swear you already have a wet spot ruining your suit from all the times he ‘accidentally’ grips his claws into the curve of your hips.

You whimper quietly when you feel the sharp point of his fang drags ever so slightly across your bottom lip. As he moves downwards, it delicately tugs at it, briefly revealing the bottom row of your teeth before releasing it. He moves his mouth along the line of your jaw and then focuses on the sensitive bite he left to bloom red and purple on your neck.

With his hands back on your waist, he starts to lick up the small droplets of blood that were staining trails down your shoulder. It stings wonderfully as he laves against it, cleaning the red off your smooth skin. You can’t help but to cry out as he begins to suck at your sensitive skin, it’s a bit more intense than you were expecting, but it feels really good. He blows cool air on it when he releases your skin, soothing the new mark he’s left on you.

His mouth is back on yours, letting you taste your own blood as your tongues intermingle with fervor. Fingers tug at the front of your suit to pull you impossibly closer as your teeth nash against one another. You hear a faint rip between you as his grip tightens and pulls at the stretchy material. Your skin quickly reacts as the cool air wraps around you, arms prickling with goosebumps and nipples tightening into hard buds.

You both pull back and look down at the damage. Your suit is split down the middle of your torso, revealing everything from your heaving chest to your belly button. Your body ignites with heat when you notice how his crimson eyes drink you in. A soft growl vibrates from his chest.

“Miguel, this is the only suit I have.”

“My bad.” Zero remorse in his voice. Asshole.

He abruptly grabs both of your wrists and pulls them behind you with one hand causing you to arch your back, inevitably giving him a better look. “God, you’re sexy.” His other hand slowly molds over your waist and smooths it upwards to grasp your tit with a playful squeeze. Using his gloved thumb, he teases the soft peak of your nipple, flicking it once just to hear you gasp. He does it once more, grinning (with his fangs cutely poking out) when you react the same way.

“Miguel…” You whine out, pouting at his teasing.

He idly drags his claws down your stomach, enjoying the way your breath hitches when he gets closer to your center. “You always go without a bra under there?”

“It’s a tight suit.”

“It is…” His hand trails down to your inner thigh and you shift slightly, leaning back so he can touch exactly where you need him. He gets the hint and gently cups you over your damp suit. “And here…?”

Your bottom lip tucks into your mouth as you look up at him, nodding softly. “And there.”

You’re suddenly being carried by Miguel, weight supported by his strong arms. You have to quickly wrap your arms around his neck to keep yourself from falling backward. He hurriedly takes you over to his desk and sets you down at the edge of the waist-level table.

He is so tall that you struggle a bit to keep your hold around his neck so you settle your hands back on his chest. You push at his firm figure and sit back to fully take him in. “And how about you?”

“Me?”

“Do you wear anything under that unbearably tight suit?”

“I do, actually. Wanna see?”

You’ve heard the rumors of Miguel’s nano-suit, but you’re still perplexed when he grabs his interdimensional watch from the desk next to you. He clicks a couple of holographic buttons and you watch in awe as his suit seems to dissolve off of him, one particle at a time, like it never existed in the first place. The fading red and navy reveal his perfectly muscled body, somehow making him look even bigger in front of you.

He did, in fact, have some briefs on under the suit, but it’s what’s under it that catches your attention. Your thighs clench together as you watch him set down the timepiece, his arm unintentionally flexing under the dim lighting.

Miguel returns to you and you spread your legs slightly so he can stand directly in front of you. You slowly reach out to him, palm to the skin, and soak in the natural heat of his body. You can feel his heart beating under his chest, slow and steady.

“You’re hot.”

He has that teasing grin back on his face, “Am I?”

“I mean…warm.”

He shrugs, “Us Spiders run hot.”

Miguel moves your hand off of him and sets it on the table before pushing his body closer to you, making your legs push out further. He leans in so close that you have to slowly tilt your body back with him. “Bet you’re warmer.”

He shifts your body further onto the table and then starts working on the rest of your suit. It tears easily from your body, scraps falling to the floor until you’re fully bare in front of him. You pant as you watch him and feel your center pulse in reaction to his rough handling. “There we are.” His voice is soothing, but his eyes flash dangerously. You arch your back slightly as his claws scrape lightly over your stomach to your most sensitive area. You don’t even have to look down to know you’re dripping, you can feel it all over your inner thighs.

His fingers glide over your glistening lips, spreading your eager wetness leisurely. His claws are gone. You watch his face as he stares at his actions, his hungry eyes dark with lust. You both groan when one finger dips in, pushing gently against your entrance. You’re practically gushing around him as he starts to move, wet sounds accompanying each thrust. A string of slick follow his hand as he pulls away and it drips carelessly on your flushed thigh. With hooded eyes, Miguel holds up his dripping finger, “Open.” You suck on him enthusiastically, holding his gaze as it’s slipped into your mouth. “Fuck.”

His briefs are shoved down his muscular thighs before you can look down and you’re shoved roughly onto your back. You feel his claws dig into your thighs as he spreads you out for him, pushing them back until they're next to your waist. His warm hardness slides against your weeping pussy, covering him in slick as he prepares himself.

Your breath hitches as his cock pushes inside of you, nearly stretching you to your limit. You try your best to take deep breaths, but it’s hard when you can literally feel each inch sinking into your body. A throaty groan rumbles in his chest as he feels you involuntarily clench around him, invariably sucking him in further. His eyes are almost glowing with how bright red they are. “Relax for me baby, I’m almost in.”

Your thighs tremble under his hands as he continues to plunge in deeper, unable to keep up with all the stimulants surrounding you. The feeling of him dragging against your walls is exquisite and you can barely hold yourself back from cumming right there.

Then he starts moving.

His hips drag back, pulling almost all the way out before he buries himself back inside of you. Your head tilts back with pleasure and your eyes squeeze shut, you can’t even tell what you’re holding on to. He keeps this slow pace, body nearly engulfing you as he hovers above. A moan follows each thrust as he fucks you into his desk.

When your eyes are finally able to flutter back open, you meet his stare. You quickly attempt to hide your face with your arm, too embarrassed to hold eye contact with him while he’s using your body like this. He doesn’t like that.

Your wrists are forced above you and then expertly webbed together to hold them there. His red webs pulse hot around your wrists. Unlike the traditional webs that tend to feel like cool lace, his are warm, like fingers wrapping tightly around your wrists, almost thrumming with soft heat in a way that makes them feel alive.

You yelp when his hand tugs sharply at the hair at the nape of your neck, forcing your gaze as he moves over you. “Look at me, baby.” You listen. He begins to aim his thrusts upwards into you, nudging against that special spot inside of you. And as hard as you try to keep looking at him, your eyes inevitably roll back as he hits it so precisely. You faintly see stars.

You cry out as heat blooms your center and your thighs close around his hips, tightening as a spark swarms in your lower belly. “That’s it, baby,” He speeds up, feeling you start to clench around him, “let go.”

Your vision blurs when your climax blasts through your body. Hot tears spill from the intensity of the feeling, creating hot trails of wetness over your cheeks. “Such a pretty little thing." He wipes them away lovingly. Your body jerks with pleasure and Miguel has to hold your waist down as your back starts to arch off the desk.

He doesn’t stop. If anything, he starts fucking you harder, letting his body weight hold you in place as he chases his own high. You whine against his neck, skin sticky with sweat, as he roughly ruts into you. “Be mine, baby, and I’ll take care of you forever.” His claws dig into your web-pasted wrists as he works himself into you, post-orgasm slick smothered carelessly over the both of you. “I promise.” He whispers breathlessly next to your ear.

“Please.” The word is nearly stuck in your throat as he continues to take everything your body is willing to give him. He’s basically grinding his cock into you now, wanting you as close as possible for these last moments. You barely hear it but he whimpers against your shoulder as he starts to draw closer to his climax, desperately rutting his hips against you.

With a choked-out groan, his movements grow sloppy and he thrusts deep inside of you a few more times. You feel the warmth of him as he spills inside of you, filling you up to the brim. He’s panting above you, body weight nearly smothering yours. You love it.

He slowly pulls out once he’s calmed down, eyes locked onto your leaking center that’s full of a mixture of you and him. His fingers lovingly spread his cum over your pussy and you flinch as he slides against your sensitive clit. You give him a look of disapproval which he ignores as he pushes his mess back inside of you.

“Will you let me out of these now?” You pull at the webs, still holding your arms above you.

“Hm…I think I’ll keep you there for a little bit longer.”

–

His office is like a bat cave when you’re barely dressed. There’s a slight breeze in the office (you have no clue where it’s coming from) that’s making it particularly drafty. You force Miguel to huddle over you like some oversized puffer jacket as it was his fault the only clothes you came with are lying on the floor in scraps.

“How am I supposed to leave when my suit is in tatters?”

His arms hold you tighter, “You aren’t. You’re staying with me.”

“Miguel, people are probably looking for us by now.”

“I don’t care.”

“Miguel.”

“Alright, fine. You can borrow one of my nano-suits, but we’re going to my place.”

“Dude, you’re like 6’3”, how am I supposed to fit into one of those?”

He tsks, “Really? You’re calling me ‘dude’ after all of this?” He grabs his watch again, scrolling through some settings. “It’s nano-tech, sweetheart, it fits what I want it to fit.” He dials the size down, letting you watch as the hologram shrinks to display your general size. “And I’m 6’7.”

-----

taglist: @deputy-videogamer @syd-vixious @bachirasbasics @danaeaurelia @reuxxi @halparkebitch @kittekat420

#miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #spider man 2099 #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel o'hara smut

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