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kennedysbaby · 1 month

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“not bad.” — leon kennedy

wc: 2.0k

pairings: di! leon kennedy x fem! agent! reader

synopsis: in the midst of a casual training session, leon accidentally throws a miscalculated punch, resulting in him needing to make it up to you, his favorite rookie.

warnings: age gap (leon is thirty-eight, reader is twenty-three). kind of inappropriate work relationship. mentor/protege turned lovers-ish? mild sexual content. leon riding his motorcycle without a helmet because he thinks he's too hot to (real).

author's note: i'm tired of pretending death island leon isn't the hottest leon. twink death dilf birth fr. also not my best work, i kind of just threw this up and wrote it in the span of two hours. i’m not too proud of it honestly.

even after long and strenuous missions, leon didn't care if you were beyond exhausted; as long as you came back relatively unscathed, you were required to show up to work the next morning. which, whatever, that was fair. it would be a little nice to catch up on some well-deserved sleep, though. the worst part is, it wasn't only mission reports that you were expected to complete—it was training, too.

sure, you might've had a teensy bit of a crush on your mentor, but this never failed to piss you off, even if he looked so good.

in the dimly lit training room, the air was thick with the faint scent of sweat and determination as you and leon squared off. you stood before the older man, a fierce glint glazed over your eyes, while leon maintained a more relaxed stance, his more experienced gaze assessing your every move.

"let's see what you've still got in you after last week's shitshow." leon teased, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

you shot back, "bring it on, old man," a playful glimmer danced in your eyes as you readied yourself for the impending clash.

"old man?" leon feigned offense, scoffing in disbelief. "i haven't even hit forty yet. you're just cruel."

you clenched your fists with a shit-eating grin, lunging forward and throwing a flurry of messy punches that leon expertly dodged—which only wiped away your smirk in an instant. your movements were fluid, visually pleasing from afar. circling one another, you searched for an opening, reaching forward with a swift jab, that he deftly sidestepped, countering with a quick jab of his own that grazed your cheek.

you grimaced from the pain, to which he responded with, "nice try sweetheart, but you'll have to be quicker than that," leon taunted, his voice laced with clear amusement. "i taught you better than this, babe."

sweetheart. babe. blush spread across your cheeks, and not from the back-and-forth punches and kicks. leon was fifteen years your senior, but unfortunately, he was also unbelievably hot—you felt so guilty for even having feelings for him in the first place.

leon was ruggishly handsome, with long-ish dark brown hair that framed his face, and broad shoulders that made him look like he gave good hugs. plus, he rode motorcycles—that he occasionally crashed—and owned this alluring charm to him that you just couldn't help but fall for. your "little" crush had gotten so inconsolable, you started laughing at his awful dad jokes.

nonetheless, you two had established a sweet relationship built on witty banter and pretentiously deep conversations. one reassuring shoulder pat and charming smile from him and all your pre-existing daddy issues withered away into nothing.

"oh please, i can hear your joints cracking from here," you grinned, determination coursing through your veins as you launched back into a flurry of punches and kicks, each one dismally met with leon's skillful evasion or expertly timed blocks.

banter flowed effortlessly between you two, subtly flirtatious comments sprinkled amongst them—a mixture of teasing jabs and genuine encouragement that only served to heighten the unspoken tension.

your fellow agents on leon's team were well-aware of the evident favoritism shown towards you. unbeknownst to them, you heard their little snide comments they'd whisper whenever you breathed near your mentor. he probably fucks her, they'd say, she probably blows him. it was disgusting, and quite frankly, sexist, but you did your best to ignore them.

though, sometimes you wished they were true.

as the minutes stretched on, the intensity of your little sparring session only seemed to grow, the air thick was anticipation as you pushed each other to the limit. but, in the heat of the moment, a lapse in leon's concentration led to very dirty move.

with lightning-fast movement, he threw a hard punch that was meant to be deflected harmlessly, but instead, landed with a sickening thud against your side. you gasped, the impact knocking the wind from your lungs as you stumbled backward, pain etched across your pretty features.

in an instant, leon's playful demeanor vanished, replaced by genuine concern as he rushed over to you, his rough hands hovering uncertainly over your trembling form.

"shit, sweetheart, i'm sorry," his smooth voice was thick with regret as his fingers tentatively slid your white tank top up. his cold blue eyes narrowed as the pad of his thumb gently brushed over the wound, frowning at the newly forming bruise tainting your skin like mold.

you winced at the contact, but you definitely weren't complaining. a reassuring smile graced your lips as your strained eyes met his worried gaze. "it's okay," you murmured, "it was an accident."

leon's lips parted slightly, as if restraining himself, before chuckling softly, "let me make it up to you," his eyes flitted upwards, landing upon your own—it sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. he guided you towards the nearby bench, settling himself right next to you, his free hand strategically placed on your thigh.

i've got to use this to my advantage, you thought to yourself, before replying, "okay…how about dinner tonight?" your voice was still a little stiff, clearly still reeling back from the uncalled for punch. "i think i deserve it after putting up with your weird no-breaks-after-missions rule."

leon wasn't an idiot. of all the things you could've asked for…dinner? he knew you weren't a goody two shoes just for the sake of it. your longing glances weren't left unnoticed, the fiddling around with the hem of your skirt, your inability to hold eye contact for more than two seconds. it was glaringly obvious. he found it endearing, and he'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't have a soft spot for you.

you really were a pretty little thing. and leon was only human.

"dinner?" he repeated, a smirk creeping onto his lips. "that's the best you could come up with?"

you nodded, smiling as if you hadn't just had your shit rocked. leon swallowed hard, knowing damn well he couldn't turn you down. not that he really had a choice at this point.

…

after what was seemingly an innocent dinner together, you both found yourselves engrossed in a long anticipated kiss, standing right by his motorcycle that he surprisingly hadn't crashed. it felt so right, so perfect, like fate had written this for them, despite all odds...

"i had fun tonight," you said, looking up into his icy blue eyes, standing a few inches away from each other. your dress fell mid-thigh, tight around all the right places.

leon felt like a creep just staring at how pretty you were. he was having an awfully hard time reminding himself that you were his protege, his subordinate. this was insanely inappropriate. but if his intuition was correct, then you definitely wouldn't mind if he made a move.

the air was laced with anticipation and unspoken desire as he looked back down at your pretty face, eyes lingering on your lipstick coated lips. leon brought his calloused hands up, and cupped your soft cheeks, his touch gentle yet electrifying.

"i'm glad you did, pretty girl," an amused look crossed over his features as he took notice of your cheeks that were burning up from his touch.

with a shared understanding, leon closed the distance between the two of you, his lips crashing against yours and meeting in a fervent kiss, igniting something strong within you. throughout the night, your inhibitions had slowly but surely disappeared, evolving into this.

his lips were warm against yours, his kiss both tender and possessive as he deepened the embrace, his hands roaming freely over your body, grasping at whatever he could. luckily, the parking lot was for the most part vacant, so leon took advantage of that. he didn't know what he was drunk on, but the fact that this was inappropriate had completely slipped his mind—right now, he wasn't your mentor, and he wasn't fifteen years older than you. what could go wrong? besides, it wasn't like the dso would let go of one of its founders.

you sighed into the kiss, surrendering yourself completely to the intoxicating rush that coursed hotly through your blood. leon pulled you closer, his fingers now tangled in your hair as he slipped his tongue between your lips, eliciting a content groan from you. you pressed your body against his, backing up against the cool metal of his motorcycle. his lips meshed into yours with a hunger that bordered on desperation.

leon really had been holding back this entire time.

you responded in kind, fingers desperately grasping onto his back, holding on for support. the cool night winds had both of your hair blowing softly, simultaneously sending a chill down your spine. but the heat of the moment was enough to keep you warm.

time seemed to stand still as you lost yourselves in each other, the outside world fading away until there was only you two, bound together by an unbreakable thread of desire and longing. as the kiss only escalated, your aching need for him was only reaching dizzying heights, knowing damn well that you'd never forget this moment. a testament to your intense desire for the man you knew you couldn't have.

when you finally pulled apart, both of your breaths were ragged and hearts were racing. you shared a knowing smile with him, the feeling sending a pleasant rush through you.

"i think it's safe to say i've made it up to you," leon whispered, his voice husky with lust as he pressed his forehead against yours. "don't you think?"

you chuckled softly, eyes sparkling with affection as you traced the line of his jaw with your fingertips. "i couldn't agree more," you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

his hand smoothed up your dress, feeling the area he'd accidentally punched earlier, a frown creasing onto his lips, "you holding up okay, by the way?" he asked concernedly, eyes flickering with worry once again.

"mhm, don't worry about it." you replied, grimacing a bit as he applied a bit of pressure on.

"good, good. you're a tough girl, i knew you'd take it like a champ." leon lightened the mood a bit, laughing lightly to ease his nerves.

"y'know, there's something else i'd take like a champ—" you had to cut yourself off, surprised that you'd let something like that roll off your tongue like it was nothing in front of someone who was technically your boss.

to your surprise, leon only shut his eyes, shaking his head in utter disbelief as he laughed a little harder. but he really wanted to test that theory. "you're really something, sweetheart." his chuckle alone sent shivers down your spine.

and with that, you rode off into the night, heading straight for his apartment. you wrapped your arms around his waist tightly, holding on for dear life as he sped off on the vacant highway. neither of you cared about the consequences of your actions, or how you'd be proving your teammates right. that would be a problem for tomorrow.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy oneshot #resident evil death island #di leon #resident evil #leon kennedy x you #live laugh dilf leon #not kidding when i say i need bro NOW #death island leon #older leon kennedy #death island leon x reader #kennedysbaby

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runa-falls · 1 year

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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

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“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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renardiererin · 2 years

Text

footnote

———————————————————————————————————

rintarou suna x reader

loud chatter ringing through your ears, as the music pounded against your head, and the lights blared against your eyes but you didn’t care one bit. you’d had far too much to drink to even be thinking about the throbbing pain in your head that grew by the minute. there was only one person you wanted to find right now.

“rin! thank god, i’ve been looking for you.” you sighed when you reached your best friend. he was sat on the kitchen counter, no drink in his hand. he was never a big fan of drinking.

“what’s up? what do you need?” worry laced into his expression as he studied your face for evidence of an issue.

“rin, i really like you. like, a lot.“ it was clear to him that you didn’t just mean platonically.

“uhm, you’re too drunk you should sober up.” he said, neglecting your confession as an alcohol induced delusion.

“why would i lie? it’s so clear i’m in love with you!”

“y/n, you know i like someone else. i don’t feel that way about you. i thought we’d been over this.” he said with a look of forced guilt on his face as if he didn’t even feel slightly bad for shattering his best friend’s heart yet again.

“if i waited, could that maybe help?”

“patience won’t change how i feel about you, y/n.” a small breath let out from his previously pursed lips as he pat the top of your head twice.

drunk, sober, tipsy, blacked out, wasted, stoned, shitfaced, whatever y/n was it was never enough. because she wasn’t ruby. and she knew he would always love ruby. you found an empty bedroom and sat on the couch by the fireplace

so i’ll stop being pretentious and loathing our friendship. you taught me a lesson: that love isn’t precious. it’s not like the novels. no pride and pres prejudice at all.

so ill just take a footnote in your life. and you could take my body, every line i would write for you. but a footnote will do. a footnote will do.

—

“i picked your favourite restaurant just for you. to help with that hangover i’m sure you’ve got.”

“hey, it’s not that bad. i wasn’t as drunk as you think.”

“oh for sure.”

“excuse me- i just wanted to say i think you two are a super cute couple!” the hostess from before approached you and rintarou’s table with a bottle of booze, him kindly turning it down due to your current state.

oh and i’d be embarrassed if i weren’t so pleased. that everyone else sees what you’ll never see. we’re perfect together, but ill never be the one.

“rin i meant what i said last night. i was thinking fairly clearly.”

“what do you mean?”

“im in love with you, rintarou.”

“y/n you know how this conversation is gonna end, we’ve had it a million times. i could never see you as more than a friend, and you know that. im not yours and you aren’t mine, no matter what you may want.”

“i can’t be just friends with you.”

“what?” fear etched into his skin as he ran through every worst case scenario he could think of.

“im in love with you, in case you didn’t hear me the first two times. i can’t just be your friend, rin that’s how how i work. i can’t pretend to be happy for you when you have a future with someone else and i’ve been by your side since as long as i can remember. i can’t be happy that you’re giving everything i want to another person. i can’t do it. i can’t sit idly by and pretend. this isn’t a fucking fairytale and im not gonna be a side character in your little movie you’ve created. soon enough, i’ll be merely a memory to you. and that’ll be good enough. i need to leave, and i don’t know if i’ll ever see you again. and if i do, i hope i’ve moved on. im tired of reaching for stars i can’t touch, and yearning for things i can’t have. i need to move on from you. i can’t do that if you’re constantly at my side, as my best friend telling me it’ll be okay just to gush about whatever girl you’re fucking, ten minutes later. i can’t do it anymore, rin. thank you for breakfast, i’ve really gotta go.” and so you left. running out the café doors, without so much as a glance back at rintarou.

it was just the wrong person, at the wrong time.

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muniimyg · 1 year

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04 // series m.list

taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic “f2f” // please DO NOT comment here or on the series . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks

taglist: @bloopkook @pb-n-juju @taetaecatboy @ellesalazar @joonsjuice @firesighgirl @cursedcursives @whoa-jo @yoongukie-ff @jihopesjoint

warning: oc throws up twice !

note: unedited :>

Nam Joon is an asshole but at least he is self aware.

Unlike most of his friends who often come off pretentious, he has always tried to protect his peace with his rude exterior. It’s not like he didn’t respect others... It was more because it was the easiest way to push people away.

That’s exactly what he knew he’d have to do with you.

Meeting you, as brief as it was; changed his life forever.

Prior to meeting you, he had never felt his heart be moved. Not by beauty or by flowery words; but by a person’s simple smile and aura. It was you that moved him deeply. So much so that his feet felt like they were floating above the ground and if he didn’t act out to save himself from being too in his head; he’d be done for.

If Nam Joon wasn’t so self aware; he would have confessed so long ago. Instead, he waited. Instead, he continued to be that annoying, smart-ass that you’d look for in friendgroup hangouts. He’d remain that friend you’d want approval from because he kept you humble.

Yet, maybe humble is an understatement.

Sometimes, his comments did go too far. Sometimes, he did make you feel dumb. But it never hurt your ego to the point where you’d hate him. No, it just felt like a middle school love affair. Like he was the boy that pulled your hair just to get you upset. Like he wanted you to cry only for him to comfort you instantly.

It’s immature.

It’s toxic.

It’s Nam Joon.

Your expectations of him have always been low. He’s always been the kind to shy away from events, but everyone would want him there because if he showed up... It’d be valid. Having him tutor you has to be one of your smarter moves as it seems to be working well for you two. Nam Joon, aside from texting, has awfully been decently pleasant... It’s as good as it can get.

The first time you two slept together was out of pure boredom. You were over at Jungkook’s and he happened to be there with the others. Everyone was busy playing games or cooking, meanwhile you and Nam Joon got buzzed. From there, he let a few words slip out of his mouth that led to you letting him slip his dick inside you.

“It’s fucking irritating,” he sighed.

“What is?” you nudged him, in attempt to pry for more of his words. He turned to you and looked at you deeply. It made your heart flutter from what you can remember.

With shaky eyes, he exhaled; “how pretty you are. How bad I want you. How... You’re just... Everything. I think you’re perfect.”

To be frank, that night went by fast. You two scrambled to a bedroom upstairs, hit it and quit it. You two went back downstairs to join everyone after an hour and pretended like nothing ever happened. For a few weeks he avoided you and you brushed it off. Suddenly, then all at once, he acted normal again and so did you.

Tonight, to Nam Joon, reminds him a lot of the first time you two slept together.

Partly because the same people were around and partly because you look just as beautiful as that night. As he finds you sitting in the corner with your knees to your chest, he feels it again.

His heart moves and his feet float above the ground.

He doesn’t know how he manages to get through the crowd and get to you. He just does. When he does, he crouches in front of you.

Poking you, he begins to nag. “What are you doing here, dummy? You might get stepped on. Let’s go—”

“Arghhh,” you groan, pushing him away. He catches your wrists and holds you still. Lifting your head up, you greet him with a tired smile. “You?”

“Me,” he confirms with a soft tone. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

You shake your head profusely. “I’m happy you’re here.”

“You are?”

“Mhmm,” you gulp. “Hobi’s been ignoring me. I waved at him then he smiled and looked away. I drank like four of these, by the way!”

Nam Joon’s eyes flicker to the empty red cups around you. He thinks to himself, shit. Of course Hobi would ignore you right now. You’re practically wasted and he’d actually die if his reputation was tainted with someone who was an inch short of perfection.

Before Nam Joon can say anything, your body suddenly leans forward and crashes against his. Though he’s a little startled, he wraps his arms around you to hold you up. Your body slumps as your head continues to spin.

“I need to throw up,” you choke. “I’m sorry.”

Nam Joon shakes his head, tucking your hair behind your ears. “Don’t be sorry, it’s okay. I’m here, ___. I’ll take care of you.”

Nam Joon finds a bathroom for you and locks the doors as you kneel in front of the toilet. You begin to gag and as soon as the fluids come up, Nam Joon rushes to your side and holds your hair back.

He pats your back and looks away. In all honesty, he’s not grossed out. Throw up is throw up. It’s simple biology and he would rather that you throw up than for you to feel sick for the rest of the night and possibly tomorrow morning.

As you finish up, you catch your breath and groan. After flushing, Nam Joon hands you toilet paper to wipe around your mouth. You sit still, eyes teary and lips puffy from everything.

“Why are you being so nice to me? You’re usually meaner than this.”

Your curiosity gets the best of you. Leaning against the bathtub, you throw your head back and just stare at the ceiling. Partly to compose yourself and partly to avoid Nam Joon’s eyes. For some reason, it feels like you could cry.

“I’m always nice to you.”

You snort at his reply.

“Where’s Hobi?”

“Avoiding you.”

You plop yourself up and glare at him. “See? Mean.”

Nam Joon chuckles and takes a seat next to you. You shift, making space for him. He points below your chin and out of instinct, you look down. He lifts his finger and tilts your chin up and grins.

“Dummy.”

You roll your eyes, finding it hard to believe that you fell for that!

“Why are you here?” you ask him. “It’s not like I’m in the mood to fuck and it’s not like you’re Hobi’s servant. What gives?”

He shrugs. “Can’t I just be a friend?”

Your eyes widen. “You are a friend! Just not... This kind.”

Nam Joon pouts at you. “I literally held your hair back while you threw up two days worth of food. Can’t you at least say thank you?”

“Thank you,” you snicker. “Thank you for being a decent friend for once.”

He salutes you. “Never again.”

With that, you both let out a light laugh. When it dies down, you let out a big sigh. “Okay, for real... What do you want, Nam Joon?”

Then, for the first time in a while, he really looks at you. He looks at you and it feels like he could get lost in your glossy eyes. He bites his bottom lip from letting any secrets spill out. He curls his hands into a fist and then relaxes them. Nam Joon feels the tightness in his chest increase but decides to digress.

Tonight isn’t the night.

Right now isn’t the moment.

Perhaps, another time. Perhaps then, he’d tell you the truth. For now, he puts his heart aside and puts you first.

“Nothing.”

You groan, not buying his bullshit. “What is it? You want me to tell you that you were right?”

He looks at you confused.

“Right about what?” he questions, completely lost.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms. “Even though Hobi ditched me tonight and left me with you, he was still trying to look out for me. Therefore, he’d be a good boyfriend, right?”

Nam Joon instantly feels hurt. It feels like you just disregarded his efforts for the sole purpose of saving Hobi’s face. He can’t hold his words back; “Hobi ditches you and you still think he’d be a good boyfriend?”

You shrug, “I don’t know.”

“What about me, then?” Nam Joon almost chokes on his own words. Too late to take them back, he presses forward; “___, I’m the one that held your hair back. I’m the one here with you. Do you still think the same? Do you still think I’d be an awful boyfriend?”

“I think I... Uh, Nam Joon—”

“—It’s yes or no, ___.”

You gulp, feeling a lump in your throat form. The uneasy feeling kicks in and you cover your mouth. Hurriedly, you cry; “... I have to throw up again.”

As Nam Joon holds your hair back for the second time tonight, he wonders if he’s that bad. He wonders if maybe he had distanced himself a little too far from you. He wonders if he pulls you closer from this moment on... Could you be his soon? Even throwing up and making excuses for his reputation sensitive friend—you’re perfect.

You’re simply everything.

It’s then that Nam Joon begins to feel sick himself.

#nam joon scenario #rm fic #rm x yn #namjoon x reader #bts fic #bts scenario #bts college au #nam joon college au #nam joon tutor #nam joon fwb

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autumnworld19 · 2 years

Text

Autumn’s Note ~ This is also my second time writing something like this, so please be nice. I’m also up to criticism, anything that’s going to make me a better writer. Please enjoy. Trigger warning: obsessive themes, slight stalking/watching, mention of reader being pregnant in a distant fantasy, mention of the OC getting hard because of the reader, reader is implied to be a lycanthrope, slight nsfw, lactation kink mention

PSA ~ If you come across my work it would it really mean the world to me if you took the initiative to not only like but also reblog.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Everyday that pretty little receptionist who’s smiles could only be enough to fix his foul moods on bad days, would leave the office building to eat her lunch at the the side of building. The same woman he could only admire, ogle and gawk at from far. She probably had interests like reading classic literature as bed time stories, go to museums because she has a philosophical perspectives or attend lucrative restaurants for a simple night out. All different from his interests. He dosen’t read classic literature or read books in general, instead of attending quiet, tranquil museums he’s up and shouting in rowdy sport bars and his version of a lucrative restaurant is one he can count on for a quick and hot meal when he’s not in the mood to cook, it’s own by the famous clown, Ronald McDonald. There are differences that don’t even end with just their interests. She is soft and speaks in only hushed tones. He is rugged and his way of speaking could only be describe as shouting, exceeding the acceptable room volume level. She is smart and patient. He is dumb and testy. She prefers to spend her personal time in solitude and away from others. He relish in engaging in playful banter with his coworkers at the pub whether after work or on his off days. These obvious differences are enough for him to think logically if they were to get together, naturally their differences would cause problems between them and the relationship would inevitable end. But when he finds himself before her and she looks up at him with those big and pretty eyes, and so sweetly greets him, giving him that ever so dazzling smile that could only make him feel better on any horrible day. It only reminds him of the physical heart that only beats for her, reminds him of the electric feeling that runs through his veins when he talks to her, reminds him of the blood that’s rushed to his nether regions when he even looks at her. Any sense of reason is thrown out the window and he starts to think, it wouldn’t be so bad. He’ll try to read ever once in awhile, go to museums and pretend that he understands what he’s looking at and wouldn’t mind lighter pockets if it means he could just spend it on her. Because she was worth it. She’s kind and compassionate, despite working at the top level of the building, where all the pretentious idiots work. She would always try to go out of her way be nice to him and the other warehouse workers, going as far as taking money out of her pockets to set up a little water station downstairs, to save them the trouble of having to walk all those stairs after a long day at work just for a cup of water. Even on nights when the moon is out and she would scurry past them without a greeting to head home, or would snap at others with snarls and growls, was all completely fine to him. She must be tired after having to work twelve hours, that poor thing. If only he could get her an easier job, where she wouldn’t have to move around so much, he would be able to see her anytime he wanted and she was able to work leisurely. He wonders if she wouldn’t mind becoming his own personal housewife, pregnant and barefoot living under his roof. The thought gets he rock hard. She would be so beautiful. Walking around with that big ole belly, her breasts would be big and filled with breastmilk he wouldn’t mind feasting on, her cheeks would get chubbier-oh god he might just blow his load. Even after a long day of being on his feet lifting and moving heavy loads, he would come home, kneel on the floors of their shared home and rubbed her swollen pregnant woman feet. Then, begin to rub other places on her body like her back, her shoulders and maybe even places that’s more internal than external. Regardless he wouldn’t mind. He wouldn’t mind if she likes a bit of red to her steaks, she’s hairy all over and dosen’t shave or she gets a bit aggressive with him at times, coincidentally during the phases of the moon.

#werewolf #werewolf reader #blue collar #yandere x reader #yandere prompts #yandere blog #tw yandere #yandere man #yandere oc #warehouse #female reader #female y/n #male x reader #obessive love #obession #autumnworldblackgirl #oc maded by autumn #autumn :)#i’m amazing

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panthera-tigris-venenata · 7 months

Text

Chapter 3: Repeat after me: Homicide is not an option.

I can’t find the first chapters, so I’m just gonna post it here. Written together with @hannahhook7744 ♥

Jace was going to murder whoever was calling him this time.

It didn’t matter who it was. They were dead.

It was three in the fucking morning!

WHO CALLS SOMEONE AT THREE IN THE MORNING?!

"What the FUCK do you want—"

"Hey Jacey. Sorry, I know that it's late where you are but—"

Okay. Maybe murder was an overreaction.

"Oh hey Elle. What's up?"

Anthony snorted from the chair he was sitting in by the bar.

Jace decided to ignore him for now.

"Well, I was wondering where you kept Panos' insulin—"

"Oh did I forget to tell you about that? It's in a secret compartment in the chest under the hammock."

"Alright, thanks. Sorry for waking you—"

"No, no. It's fine. I was already up—"

This time, Sammy was the one to snort.

Jace shot him a glare but said nothing.

"Anthony?" Sammy asked with growing suspicion, "How come no one ever calls you?"

Disinterested Anthony Tremaine lifted his head from whatever pretentious novela he was reading at the moment.

"What are you talking about? Audrey calls me all the time," he said calmly.

"That’s not what I mean and you know it. She calls you to gossip, not to–" Not to ask for bail money or because of missing children or because they don’t know where the coffee is.

"I need to know what you did to make them leave you alone," decided Sammy.

"Burner phone, man. No one has the number. No one can call me but Audrey," Tremaine smirked, extremely self-satisfied and extremely punchable, "Now that we’re speaking about it, someone’s calling you."

Yes, Harriet. Who is still pissed about Anthony’s disappearance of the face of the Earth.

Sammy talked her through hopefully not killing anyone, and then turned back to Tremaine, who did have the decency to pretend not to eavesdrop. "One beautiful day, I’ll murder you," they promised him.

"Hmm, not if my girls do it first."

What an extremely normal and non concerning answer. But hey, at least it will be painful.

—Line Break—

Sammy's phone rang again.

And again.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"Hey Sam. Sammy. Sam the man—"

"What did you do, Harry?"

"Cj and I need bail money—"

There was a scuffle over the phone.

"Hey! No—I thought we agreed I was doing the talking?"

"You're making him mad! Give it—"

"No!"

Sammy would like to state here and now that they were not paid enough for this. And that they were on vacation. And that they really didn’t want to know what the younger two Hooks did.

"Call Harriet," Sammy said. He wished the jail would stop offering the one free call."

"I feel safer in jail" Harry deadpanned.

"For once I agree with him."

Yeah no Sammy couldn’t argue with that.

"Uma, then," they offered.

"Once again, I feel safer in jail," CJ piped up.

"Hey! That’s my Captain you’re talking about!" Harry argued, "But yeah. Jail’s safer."

"I hate both of you. Call Gil, then."

"He’d tell Uma!"

"As he damn well should."

"Please, Sammy, just send us the bail money! You’re basically my favorite

brother!" (CJ. Of course it was her.)

"Hey! I’m standing right there!" (Harry. Who else?)

Sammy was tired of it. "Please, don’t murder each other while in the police office. And, I don’t know. Try Ginny."

To the twin screams of "Have you met her?!", Sammy hung up.

—Line Break—

Jace growled in frustration as his phone rang yet again.

For the sixth time in the last hour and for the one hundredth and something time since he left for vacation.

He was definitely gonna commit murder by the time they got back from Tahiti.

"Hey Sam?"

Sammy hummed in response—not looking up from his newspaper.

"How long is a life sentence again?"

Line break

"Sammy! Just wanted to let you know that Claudine might or might not be attempting an exorcism right now! In Castle Beast or wherever the nice fairy lady with outdated costumes lives! I hope you remember this the next time I need a tiny little favor! Bye, love you!"

Sammy stared at the phone in silent horror, the name of Ivy de Vil still on screen.

They were starting to think that burner phones might not be a bad idea.

Finally, they broke out of their stupor: "What the fuck does she think I can do with it now?!" They hissed at the screen.

"Do I even want to know why you're making that face?" Jace asked, barely glancing up from his cards.

They had been playing poker when Sammy got the text.

"No."

"Okaaaaaay then…. I'm just gonna take your word for it. "

—Line Break—

Jace winced as his phone buzzed.

Wondering what he ever did to deserve this.

Whatever this was.

He dreaded finding it out.

Knowing the people who had his number, it couldn't be good.

*Buzz*

The brunette sighed before deciding that things would go a lot smoother if he just answered now and not later. "Detective Jason Badun at your service. How can I be of service–”

"Detective Jason Badun," the voice was most definitely dripping with sarcasm and detective Jason Badun winced. He recognised that voice, unfortunately. He had just hoped that the god of the dead didn’t know how to use a phone.

"Care to tell me where my son is?"

Hadie. They lost Hadie.

First Chloe and now Hadie. He goes away for a day or two and this happens!

He breathed through his teeth slowly.

"Excuse me, I’ll be back with you in a second."

("Customer voice," nodded Tremaine approvingly, and nearby Sammy almost choked, trying not to laugh.)

Jace ignored both of them as he hung up and immediately dialed his cousin.

Harry didn't answer.

"That bitch!” Jace growled frustrated, ignoring the scandalized look another vacationer sent his way at his crude language.

Sammy did laugh that time.

"It's not funny, blondey! Hades is gonna murder me!”

"Not if you snitch to Persephone first” Anthony chimed in, drinking some coconut milk out of a straw. Looking bored.

Jace and Sammy stared at him.

Both clearly too stressed out to get his meaning.

The red head sighed. "Hades can't murder you for losing the kid he was supposed to be watching if you snitch on him to his wife for losing the kid.”

"... That… can work?” Jace asked, confused. As if the idea had never occurred to him before.

Anthony rolled his eyes. "Yes. It works all the time with my siblings and cousins. Whoever snitches to whoever is in charge first is the one who is usually believed. Soo.. get on that.”

The other two continued to stare at him.

It was starting to become creepy—so he clapped. "Chop, chop. You gotta call her first, remember?”

Jace shot out of his chair, muttering curses as he scrambled to find Persephone's number (which he had for when Hadie was being particularly difficult).

Anthony snorted. "And they saw I'm the airhead.”

—Line Break—

Sammy abruptly got up from their seat, where they were scrolling through their phone, which was, for once, not ringing. So, just a bit of mindless media consumption, as you do.

But no. It was a bad fucking idea.

Sammy cursed as they resisted breaking the bloody device and muttered something like "You leave them alone for a weekend–"

They stormed away to their room before anyone could ask what happened; for the rest of the night, sounds of packing could be heard, interrupted by agitated but quiet phone calls.

Chapter 4: Okay so maybe Homicide is an option—

"Uh… Sammy. You okay dude?” Jace asked warily, watching from the doorway as the blonde frantically threw his clothes into his suitcases.

"Obviously they're not.” Anthony snorted, rolling his eyes. Still sipping on his coconut milk. "Are you blind?”

"It’s called common courtesy, Tremaine, you wouldn’t know," replied Jace. Sammy ignored both of them, well used to Anthony’s constant bickering.

"Whatever," shrugged Anthony, "I just don’t care all that much." He turned to leave, only for Sammy to call after him.

"You should care. Beauty’s name leaked, and I’m willing to say it’s at least fifty percent your fault."

"I’m not even there, how can it be my fault?" Anthony turned his nose up, while Jace tried to figure out what exactly happened. He was fine with saying it was Anthony’s fault, though, whatever it was. That’s what he gets for being so annoying.

"You're the one who suggested the stupid name in the first place and you're the only one who writes the full name of the ship down everywhere! Well, you and Harriet.”

"That doesn't mean it's my fault!”

"Wha—that’s exactly what it means!”

"Nuh uh.”

Jace sighed. "You are aware that you sound like your little cousins when you do that, right?”

Anthony sputtered. "I do not!”

Sammy kept packing—ignoring the two of them as they started to bicker.

…. Only for the TV to cut them off.

"Breaking news, teenage sleuth Harry Badun is leading a non peaceful protest at Beast Castle—”

"GODS FUCKING DAMN IT, HARRY!” Jace snapped frustrated before going to pack his own bag. As it was obvious that he was gonna be needed to fix the mess his cousin had made.

"What? You're going home too? Booo. You guys are no fun” Anthony huffed.

Both ignored him now.

"Whatever, then. Enjoy being killjoys I guess, good luck keeping those morons back home alive. Sam, say hello from me to everyone on Dead Beauty."

Sammy stared at him for a moment, before shaking their head.

"You’re so fucking dead, Tremaine. You know that, right?"

"I'm only dead if they can find or catch me. Which they can't.” Anthony replied, smirking.

Jace threw a sock at him—which hit him directly in the face.

"Ew! What the fuck Badun—”

#disney descendants #jace badun #sammy smee #anthony tremaine #they’re not paid enough for this.

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hoperays-song · 1 year

Text

Rant/Vent

TW: Transphobia and Current State of Trans Rights in the US

I hate holidays. Because sitting in a room of people who pretend to care about trans rights while not doing anything to help them, while continuing to misgender and deadname me after four years, while saying that it’s not that bad in the US, while saying it’s wrong for me to flee for my own safety, while saying that no one is actively trying to kill trans people, is fucking terrifying. They know nothing on the matter and say that I’m being a “pretentious prick” for telling them information on the matter. They say there isn’t a genocide against trans people. They say we’re exaggerating.

I’m sorry but trans kids are being taken from their families. Trans people can be arrested for dressing like themselves. Books with trans rep are being taken off shelves. Hundreds of bills are proposed that would ban us from existing. Countries are now offering up asylum to transgender Americans.

No trans person I know doesn’t have an escape route planned. We’re being killed, wiped out from existence. We are terrified.

I have had to hold my kids and tell them that if worst comes to worst I will get them out no matter what. I’ve had them send me photos of go bags asking if “will this be enough?” I go to my classes everyday scared that will be the last time I ever do. I have a group of seven I have made a plan to get to the border with. I’ve been given death threats within the past week to my face. Sure, as my bio family said, some areas aren’t “as bad” but no 13 year old should have to be making escape plans. No one should. No one should be fearing for their lives instead of just living them.

We are stage 7 of a genocide. And I’m tired of only trans people caring.

#trans #trans genocide #transgender #im so so fucking scared #and I’m trying to hold it together for my kids but I’m terrified #just because it’s worse in other places doesn’t mean what’s going on is ok #ranting and venting #this is the reason I changed my last name #i’m tired of this shit #they don’t get to pretend to care when they still misgender me and deadname me after all these years #i hate holidays

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blissfulalchemist · 2 years

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What is your core?

Tagged by: @belorage @florbelles @unholymilf @adelaidedrubman @strafethesesinners @confidentandgood @dihardys @indorilnerevarine @leviiackrman thank you all! Have a variety pack where everyone of them got dragged. If you haven’t done this and want to! consider this your tag! I’m late apologies.

Hayat Khademi and Carly

acerbic wit

you're a mentor — an old scarred wolf, an injured soldier, a disgraced paladin. your teachings read as shamelessly pretentious, speaking in rhymes and biting down hard into anyone stupid enough to make the wrong move. this isn't your first life, nor your second, nor your sixth — you'll make the most of your time shackled to this world, no matter how many loops it takes to get it right. with every defeat, you reincarnate; a little smarter, a little quicker, crueler and nastier. will you choose to be brutal, equalizing, that final strike in the face of your enemies? will you go soft, become tender and domesticated? the choice is yours. it's not like i can stop you.

Catlina Rojas

cauterizing rage

the house has burned around you, and you’re the only one left standing. is it gratifying to be the survivor? fear and anger are weapons in your capable hands, used only to serve your agenda of fighting back when deemed necessary. you're a powerful person, built from the ashes of your despair and your family's mistakes. with time, you'll bloom into someone softer, like the full blossoms that grow each spring and wither away with the leaves in fall. they won't disappear if you take your eyes off of them. you're enough.

Siberite Akagane

rippling sunset

you’re the nicest person i’ll ever meet, probably. with an undying passion to protect those who can’t protect themselves, you’re energetic and bubbly to a fault. it’s cute, watching you run around trying to tie up loose ends. i feel bad for you — out of everyone you know, you probably have some of the deepest trauma, more than anyone’s aware of. this isn’t something that you want attention for at all, and you’d really just rather forget it exists at all… even then, it seems like you can never escape it. i wish you a pleasant rest of your life, full of rippling sunsets and free of prying eyes.

Conner Enache

warped metal

it's not working out the way you want it to. no matter how hard you try to look scary, the very picture of karmic retribution, your efforts will inevitably fall short. you're out of place here, a broken doll and a used marionette. there's nothing to gain in pretending you can't be hurt like anyone else. there's nothing to gain in pretending you aren't human, that you're made of twisted steel and distorted memories. embrace your humanity. embrace your vulnerability. give in to trust.

Stasia E.

benign culpability

everyone hates you because you are a facetious lying bitch. …kidding, i think. seriously, though! you try way too hard to look like a picturesque example of class and responsibility, but you use your position as a social butterfly to take advantage of those weaker than you. it’s rare for anything not to be your fault, and everyone thinks you’re crying wolf when you actually HAVEN’T done anything. it gets kind of tiring to have everyone on your dick all the time, but it’s less interesting to actually behave. good luck with the therapy?

#like listen…..these were so interesting to see my god #my baby cat just getting read to filth and sib just 🙃 oof #catlina rojas oc #hayat khademi oc #carly oc #siberite akagane oc #stasia e. oc #conner enache oc #tag games

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zalrb · 2 years

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what you said about bridgerton being flat and charmless! this probably makes me pretentious or something but bridgerton for me is one of those new age shows that HEAVILY rely on tropes (the way tropes are now used in fandom spaces) and its just tiring because it's awkward and clearly capitalizing on what fandom culture is like now without any further thought or originality... idk its just not fun if feels like reprocessed food

Well the thing about it is, if they had chemistry the fact that it's tropey would be fun? Like Crash Landing On You packs in basically every kdrama trope and makes fun of itself for doing that since the female lead is South Korean and ends up in North Korea where she meets the male lead and one of the supporting NK characters is a huge kdrama fan and believes that all South Koreans act according t kdrama tropes and so he explains the tropes to the male lead and to the other supporting characters so everyone talks about the tropes they're about to do to advance the plot or they do those tropes to advance the plot

and because the leads have chemistry

when they do the tropes, it's like ohhhhhhhh they're doing the pretending to be a couple trope!

ohhhhhhhhhhh they're doing the hair tie and stroking the hair/patting the head trope!

ohhh they're doing kiss as a cover trope!

and it's FUNNY

Bridgerton didn’t have to be funny but it should’ve been entirely silly and fun, if it’s basically supposed to be this [cishet] female gaze/female perspective, you can self insert, you wish a man would say these things about you show/to you viewing experience that you gush over, I just need more than dialogue and breathiness because that doesn’t create chemistry and because that doesn’t create chemistry when the tropes happen I’m like, you’re just throwing all these tropes together and expecting something and this show doesn’t even have the decency to be charming about it?? @initiumseries was talking about how when she watched it she just kept thinking about how impractical the sex scenes were because the chemistry didn’t make her forget about them so she was like wouldn’t that be cold, wouldn’t that be uncomfortable, which is how I felt when I watched a bit of season one where I was like wouldn’t the stairs be digging into your back right now, this doesn’t feel like a worth-it sex injury.

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ao3feed-crimeboys · 1 year

Text

What If I Told You I Don't Give A Fu-

by Nissified

Tommy stood over him, grocery bag in his right hand, keys clutched in his left. It was pretty late already, well past eleven at night and he was tired and really just wanted to go pass out on his sofa or maybe the bed if he felt like walking the extra steps.

Ignoring him and just pretending like he’d been home early would be an easy task. Just stepping over the body, ignoring the possibly lingering dread from just having ignored to help someone in obviously desperate need and entering the flat. He could just put on a random nature documentary on the TV and make himself a bowl of noodles, perhaps shoot Tubbo a quick message on discord to check on his sleep schedule (fucker’s always staying up too late) and randomly insult the single house plant he owned. It’d be so easy.

But it would also be a dick move.

“I can’t fucking believe I’m doing this.”

or: Tommy just wanted to go home and have a chill evening after a taxing work shift. Instead, he's dealing with a pretentious wanna-be hipster bleeding all over his sofa. Safe to say he's not impressed. Oh, and the hipster in question is Orpheus, a feared supervillain.

Words: 5218, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: Gen

Characters: TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot, Phil Watson | Philza, Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo

Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Civilian TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Wilbur Soot, Villain Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Needs a Break (Video Blogging RPF), Tired TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), he's so tired of everyone's shit, Siren Wilbur Soot, Avian TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Avian Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Piglin Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Animal Instincts, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Secret Identity

#ao3feed #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #crimeboys #crime boys #crimebois #crime bois #mcyt #This is an automated process #If you see any fic that breaks boundaries #or the fic is yours and you don't want it shared send an ask #it will be looked at and removed if need be

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kendallspussy · 2 years

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Right? I’m tired of people pretending sally rooney is a great writer

i started watching normal people a year ago or something, couldn't make it through the first episode but someone told me that the novel was better so I decided to give it a chance; nothing made me as angry as her style of writing and the pretentiousness of it tbh; her characters are flat and I don't think it's a conscious choice, it feels like they're supposed to be these deep and sophisticated creatures but they're flat and boring, a big no from me :/

#and she writes characters driven stories because nothing really happens in her novels lol #if u do it u need interesting and well written characters #answered

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enviousinfluences · 2 years

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I’m honestly sick lol I’m a bitter pretentious bitch and tired of pretending I’m anything but. I hate how the height of critique is milquetoast consensus that actually sometimes bad thing good or both sides stupid : let’s collectively not care at all.

I hate when I’m talking film or music and I’m told over and over how Anthony Fantano shaped your view on music or how x youtuber is such a good film critic because they don’t insult popular things and give a five minute “vibe check” as film critique.

Like those things are fine. Ok I don’t even hate it.

I hate how I can’t find anything else. I hate how YA is the default now or how Broadway show levels of subtlety is praised for smart emotional writing. I hate how in a stupid for fun quiz I took about being “””into film”””” all of the movies were American and half of the selections were blockbusters.

I’m not the smartest person. Recently I saw lost highways in theaters and I didn’t understand it at all. But the thing is I fucking wish I could talk about it with someone who did. Idk. Or at least someone who fucking bothers.

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winderlylandchime · 9 months

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2x16 1/2 He actually clapped his hands together and went ‘lets get this love confession on the road!!!’ So let’s all hold hands for this unfortunate moment that we are about to witness, i believe this is the exact definition of stolen innocence.

‘It is Justin’s birthday..and Ben’s, my god he’s so boring that he can’t even have his own birthday. Why are we suddenly sad over going to Babylon? Justin, my boy, an episode ago you were living your best life there? He’s probably just tired’ ‘oh Brian hates birthdays, i thought it was just his birthday he hated. OH WAIT he’s pretending so that he can surprise him duuuh!!’ ‘Oh wow Ben’s whole thing is yoga and Buddhism..no party on the planet could make that look fun...I’m gonna need Mel and Lindsay to stop, what will they do? HEY! Talk to Bri Bri first, you will mess up his plans for his birthday surprise! Or are they in on it? *looks at me all shocked* theyre in on it aren’t they? They’re gonna take him to a dinner and Brian will be there waiti- VIOLIN RECITAL? Why are they ignoring him if he said he’s not into it? This will be the most boring birthday ever. But don’t worry Bri Bri will come through’ he now paused the episode on the loft scene because he swears he knows the song in the background but he can’t figure it out and no app is helping him. And i wish i was joking when i say that it took him 20 minutes to discover the song because when he made me look up songs listed for the ep, it was the wrong one. He is now angry at the band bc they are the reason he couldn’t find it. Now finally back to the episode. ‘Awww Brian is fixing his tie, didn’t Justin wear a tie the entire season 1? Would it kill Mel to smile at Brian once? Just once? Can she leave? I don’t like her anymore, she is far too negative for my vibes. Aww he told him to not work too hard. I agree with Lindsay but don’t worry he will show him his present bc this is all a pla- see! he is flipping through ART BOOKS! He is planning a surprise for Justin and i cant wait!’ And now it’s the beginning of Ethan and i wish i was joking when i said that I actually flinched when the violin music started. ‘justin…this is not this exciting so calm down. Is he seriously drawing him? *he paused on Ethans face* is that supposed to be a goatee? Is that…is he for real? Nobody on that set told him to shave? Oh I do not like the vibes of this. Justin only draws Brian, why is he drawing this lil shit now? *pauses on Ethan again* WAIT IS THAT BUFFYS BOYFRIEND?! Oh i hated him there. Justin, stop drawing him.’ (Please send me your thoughts and strength because i am physically ill at the sight of Ethan and now I actually have to suffer him.) ‘justin..why do we care about this dude so much? A lesbian success story? Melly, ill be the judge of that because right now i am not happy. Oh what a pretentious prick. Just take the fucking complime- he did not blame the fact that he sucked on justin? Oldest trick in the book well get fucked goatee boy because WE HAVE A BRIAN! Why are mel and Linds so happy about whatever the fuck this bullshit is? Ohhhh big whoop you have your own CD well Brian has his own loft and a car and a comic book!’ He paused the episode again and went outside for a smoke and when i asked about it, he just pointed to the tv where Ethan was on it and screamed with his hands shaking around his head. ‘Why is he playing the violin music for Brian? Justin, we are done. The concert is over and we are now back to reality! OH BRIAN HAS A PRESENT! WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY! WHAT DID I SAY WAS GONNA HAPPEN?! I said this will happen and nobody believed me!! AND NOW YALL LOOK LIKE A FOO-….okay, I did not see this happening’ ‘….Emmett, you could’ve just ordered sushi. Oh debbie, is here too. Seriously is mel ever fucking quiet? Do these two not know how to mind their business? My god, mel and lindsay really dont know how to mind their fucking business! It was a dumb present okay but can they mind their own for a second. Have they ever had a successful party? Debbie shut the fuck up, i too would hate strangers in my house AND my phone stolen by my boyfriend!’

"‘lets get this love confession on the road!!!’ So let’s all hold hands for this unfortunate moment that we are about to witness, i believe this is the exact definition of stolen innocence." Setting a prayer circle for you and Brother.

He's pretending he hates birthdays and he should check with Mel and Linds so they don't ruin the surprise. Oh nooooooo.

Yes why on this green earth would you take him to a violin recital?!?! Inquiring minds want to know. If only Justin had said "nah that sounds boring" and stuck to his guns. IF ONLY. (Although I do believe they needed to break up for relationship growth but still the way Ethan happened was NOT IT).

Ohhhh big whoop you have your own CD well Brian has his own loft and a car and a comic book! <- YES. BROTHER

And then we have the racist party... Emmett you could have just ordered sushi.

And no, they have never had a successful party. Vacations and parties come to die in QAF 'verse.

#ask winderlylandchime #dear sweet anon #queer as folk #a straight man watches qaf us 2000 in the year of our lord 2023

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