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jayybugg · 3 months

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locker room activities

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Draco hates you.....or so you thought.

Warning: Language, Slight Time Skips, Kinda Asshole Draco (?), Smut (18+), No Specific House Mentioned, Use of Y/N.

Word Count: 2.6K

Note: Hi, here I am back again with another fic. It's not song-based this time, just my feral thoughts taking over for Draco. As always, thank you @pizzaapeteer for proofreading and @cafekitsune for the banner! Enjoy!

Draco Malfoy hated you.

You weren’t sure why, but you also didn't care enough to find out. In fact, you found amusement in seeing the blonde make a fool out of himself to prove his superiority. The glares he shot your way only made you giggle to yourself as you just simply ignored them majority of the time. But seeing him get riled up even more by your unbothered state always made your day.

"Another day of being an idiot, Malfoy?" you smiled lazily down at him sprawled out on the ground, his failed potion covering him.

"This is your fault! You charmed my potion to explode!" Draco shot to his two feet, glaring at you. You raised an eyebrow at him, confused at what he was even talking about. "Charmed your potion? I just got here.” you paused for dramatics. “After it exploded." You rolled your eyes at the stupidity of his accusation

"All you do is get under my skin and annoy me, Y/L/N." Draco snapped at you.

"I don't even do anything to you!" You felt your anger boil. This boy practically borderlines harasses you every day, but somehow, he was the victim? Makes sense coming from Draco.

"You do a lot of things to me!" Draco yelled at you. The chuckles from his table of friends was enough to turn him red and send him storming out of the classroom.

"Bloody hell is his problem?" You muttered to yourself, sitting down at the desk to start your potion.

You didn't see Draco for the rest of the day, figured that he probably skipped class and called his father to complain or try to get you kicked out of school. You soaked up the peace as much as you could.

"Madam Pince? Do you know where this book may be? I need it for my ancient runes class." You handed the woman a piece of paper with the title scribbled across it.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy checked it out." She returned the paper to you. You groaned softly. Of course, that imbecile had the book that you needed. "Granted, it's overdue, so he needs to return it. Why don't you go get it from him?" Madam Pince asked, looking over her glasses.

You knew this was her way of getting you to do her job. It was a known fact to everyone that Madam Prince hated to deal with Draco and the rest of his family.

You sighed, grabbing your stuff to go track down the blonde. You really needed that damn book. "Okay, I got it."

Luna was the first to see you, her smile staying wide. "Hey, Y/N!" she waved at you. Pansy turned at your approach and smiled at you. "Hey, what brings you here?"

"I was looking for you, actually." You leaned against the wall next to the girls. "I hate to interrupt the date, but I need your help, Parkinson."

"With what?" she raised her eyebrow, tilting her head slightly.

"Got any idea where Malfoy is?"

Pansy's eyes widened in surprise. "Why are you looking for Draco?"

"Don't get any ideas, Pans. He has a book that I need and Madam Pince told me to get it from him because it's overdue." You poked the girl's forehead, making Luna laugh and Pansy rolled her eyes.

"I was just surprised, that's all." Pansy defended herself, "He should be at quidditch practice, but by the time you get to the field, it'll probably be over and you'll have to wait till he comes out of the locker room."

"Okay, thanks! Bye, lovebirds." You waved the two girls goodbye, making your way over to the field.

Just like Pansy had said, by the time you got down to the field the practice was over. You stood by the entrance, hoping to catch Draco when he left and prayed that he had the book on him by any chance.

"Waiting for a hot date, y/n?" Mattheo asked, walking out with Theo as they exited the locker room first, surprised to see you waiting there.

"I wish." You rolled your eyes. "Waiting for Malfoy. He has a book that I need and Madam Pince has me doing her dirty work.”

"Ahhhh." Mattheo and Theo said, simultaneously grinning at you.

"What?" you raised an eyebrow at them.

"Oh nothing. This should be the highlight of his day." Theo smiled, patting your head. The two walked off, leaving you confused.

You continued to wait for Malfoy, watching the rest of the Slytherin team clear out of the locker room. After about another 20 minutes of waiting, you grew tired.

"What the fuck is he in there doing? His everything shower?" you muttered. You looked around at the empty hallway before sighing and pushing open the locker room door.

The locker area was completely empty, making you intensely bitter that Draco was probably in the shower. You walked up to his ajar locker to see all the quidditch equipment and no sign of your book.

"Of course, the asshole doesn't have it on him." You rolled your eyes. You looked around for any sign of him, but you didn't see him.

You walked closer to the showers, hearing water running. "Malfoy??" you called out, receiving a dead answer.

He had to be in here. He was the only one who didn't leave the locker room. You moved closer to the entrance of the shower seeing Draco lean against the wall of the shower with water dripping down him.

You eyed his physique slowly. Sure, the boy was annoying but Merlin, he was fine.

You couldn't pay too much attention to his physique because your eyes and mind finally registered what he was doing and saying.

"Fuck, Y/N. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck." Draco cussed, throwing his head back as he jerked himself off. Your eyes widened as you heard your name spill out his mouth. Was Draco getting himself off to the thought of you?

You cleared your throat loudly. Draco's eyes shot open to see you standing at the entrance and taking in his naked form.

"Shit! Y/N, what the fuck are you doing in here?" Draco scrambled to turn the shower off and grab his towel.

"Well, I've been looking for you for probably the past hour or so." You said, your eyes staying trained on him.

"Looking for me? Why?" Draco asked. He glanced around the showers and out to the locker room, "Is nobody in here?"

"No, they all left 20 minutes ago. Getting ready for dinner, I assume." You walked closer to Draco, who was unconsciously backing away from you.

You had never seen Draco look scared, almost as if he wasn't sure what to do.

He looked like prey and you were the predator.

"W-why were you looking for me?" Draco asked again, as you continued to close the distance between you both.

You ignored his question, using this advantage to tease him. "How many times have you gotten off to the thought of me?"

Draco gripped his towel tighter, "Don't be foolish, Y/N. I don't get off to you. Never have and never will."

"I just saw you, Malfoy." You rolled your eyes, looking down at his dick, "And judging by how hard you are, I can guess that maybe this isn't the first time."

"Shit, you can see it through the towel?!" Draco clutched the towel closer to him to cover up the print, "Y/L/N, I'm begging you to just go and never speak about this again."

"Begging? That's new for you." A devilish smirk took over your features as you took a step closer to him. Draco felt his heart start to pound in his chest. You looked ready to devour him.

"Is this why you said I do a lot of things to you?" You dragged your finger down his bicep, pushing him against the wall.

A part of Draco was embarrassed that he got caught like this but the other part of Draco was getting so turned on that if he was given the chance to have his way, then he was going to take it.

"All this time, you've been so aggravated with me," Your hand fondled with the fabric of the towel that wrapped around his waist, "And it was all because of your dirty little fantasies."

"Y/N, please...." Draco's voice was soft and desperate. It was music to your ears.

"Please what?" You leaned in to lick softly at his neck, "Come on, use your words. Where's that big voice of yours from earlier?"

Draco didn't even know what he wanted to say. He couldn't decide if he wanted you to free him or to just have your way with him.

"Tell me what you want me to do, Malfoy." You whispered into his ear as you continued to tug at his towel.

"Fuck." He was done. Any shred of self-respect or restraint that he had was gone. Demolished. Non-existent.

"I'm waiting." you said in a sing-song voice. You were enjoying this.

"Suck me off. Please." Draco said.

You grinned, tugging his towel down and going to your knees. You licked your lips as you eyed his dick that was harder than you thought it was.

You coated your hand in spit, pumping him before you licked the length of him slowly. You swirl your tongue around his tip, listening to Draco groaned deeply, his hands finding their way into your hair.

"Stop teasing." Draco muttered, looking down at you.

"But it's fun." You batted your eyes up at him.

That look alone almost made him cum. Draco gave you a grunt in response. You smiled, taking him in your mouth, and quickly got to work.

The lewd and slobbery sounds you were making with Draco's cock filling your mouth mixed with his moans and grunts caused your pussy to drench your panties. You reached around to the front of your school skirt and played with yourself as you continued to suck him off.

"Fuck, this is better than any dream. Your mouth is amazing. I just want to fuck your face," Draco said, looking down into your eyes that were already on him, "Can I?”

You nodded, pulling away to catch your breath as Draco gathered your hair into a makeshift ponytail and shoving his dick further down your throat. Draco wasted no time using your mouth to his pleasure, taking joy in the little gagging that you were doing. The sounds of your gags turning him on even more than he already was.

"Do you like that? Being treated like my fuck toy?" Draco groaned out, watching your eyes gleam with unknown emotion. You hummed in agreement, keeping your eyes on him.

"Fuck, I'm about to cum," Draco moaned. His dick was hitting the back of your throat, repeatedly and unforgivingly. The closer Draco was getting to his climax, the sloppier his thrusts got. He let out a groan, releasing his cum deep down your throat. You swallowed it quickly, pulling away and wiping the spit that had drooled down your chin to your chest.

"I've never cummed from head before." Draco admitted, running a hand through his hair. You smiled, feeling your ego boost from his compliment.

"Well, there's a first time for everything." You stood up, gripping his dick that was still hard, "but I don't think it's fair that you get to cum and I don't."

Draco's eyes gleamed with excitement and lust. He leaned forward to nip at your ear. "Want to know what another one of my fantasies was?"

You raised an eyebrow at him, curiosity covering your face. Draco smirked as he turned you around to face the wall.

"It was to fuck you from behind against this wall."

He didn't waste time lifting your skirt up and sliding your panties to the side. He dragged his tip up and down your folds, making you whimper.

"Don't be a tease." You groaned.

"It's fun, remember?" He grinned, feeling his own cocky self return, "But I want to feel you, so I'm going to cut the fun short."

Draco slid into you, the action creating loud moans from both of you. He started thrusting fast and hard into you. The sound of your skins slapping together and the sounds of your moans filled the room. Any concern you had about someone walking in or hearing you was quickly thrown out the window.

“Fuck." You moaned.

"You feel so good. So tight and wet. Just for me, huh?" Draco whispered in your ear.

"Just for you." You whispered back. Draco continued his thrusts, slapping your ass as he went. His name spilling out of your mouth with a string of curse words.

You clenched around Draco, making him snake his hand around your neck to pull you up against him. "About to cum, baby? Cum on my dick like the good girl you are."

His words made your orgasm better than you ever thought it would be.

Draco spun you around and lifted you up, putting your legs over his shoulders and supporting you against the wall as he slid into you once again.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yes, right there." You moaned as Draco drilled into you, leaving you no choice but to take all of him.

"You take me so well. So wet and so pretty." Draco covered your neck in kisses and marks before crashing his lips onto yours.

Your tongues explored each other's mouth as Draco continued to thrust into you roughly. It didn't take long for you and Draco to get close to your climax again.

“I’m going to fill you up. Have you walking out of this room full of me, and me only.” Draco grunted in your ear.

“Yes, please.” You whimpered, “Please do it.”

Draco groaned, releasing again inside of you. He pulled out of you and dropped you down to the ground softly. You gripped his arm and the wall for balance as your legs were shaking and you couldn't walk properly.

"If someone would've told me this morning that by the end of the day I would've fucked Draco Malfoy, I would've called them insane." You said, regaining your normal breathing patterns.

"I could say the same." Draco chuckled. He quickly wrapped a towel around him, looking down at you. "Your shirt is wet from the shower and the spit. Here, let me get my hoodie for you to wear."

You blushed as Draco pulled you to the locker area, grabbing his hoodie and pulling it over your head.

"Thank you." You adjusted the hoodie. "So, you never answered my question."

Draco raised an eyebrow at you, pulling on his clothes quickly. "What question?"

"How long have you been having dreams about me?"

Draco paused, redness creeping up his neck, "I was hoping I would fuck you hard enough to make you forget."

"Oh, I'll never forget this."

Draco rolled his eyes, grabbing his bag, "I don't remember when they started or even when I felt an attraction to you. I just know that every night, upon recently, it's always just been you."

You nodded, gathering your stuff, "Well, hope it was better than you could've ever imagined."

"Oh, it was," Draco said, "You never answered my question either. Why were you in here in the first place?" A smile took over your face as you looked up at Draco with a mischievous expression.

"You checked out the book for the Ancient Runes homework. Madam Pince said it was overdue and since I need it, she sent me to get it from you."

"I don't have it on me," Draco said.

You smiled, walking to the door, "Oh, I know. I'll come around your dorm later and get it from you."

You pushed the door open and threw a wink his way. Draco let out a deep sigh as he leaned against his locker.

You were going to be the death of him.

#slytherin boys #enzo berkshire #theodore nott #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #draco malfoy x reader #smut #slytherin x reader #mattheo riddle

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byeol-ssi · 1 year

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nothing more, nothing less

Kaz Brekker was acquainted with different monsters. Those wrapped in expensive silk and bathed in sickening perfume. Those who spouted beautiful lies, enticing unwitting men into their dens. Those with hands stained crimson, preying on children and fools alike. His reflection on a mirror.

But the green-eyed beast proved to be a terrifying match.

Or, Kaz gets jealous.

✦ kaz brekker x gn!reader | grishaverse

✦ tags: jealous kaz, lieutenant!reader, (kind of?) enemies to lovers, set sometime after the events of crooked kingdom

"Brekker."

"Darling," KAZ drawled without looking up at your arrival, his tone more mocking than affectionate. "You're two bells late. Do you have the—"

A roll of parchment zipped through the air, landing in the middle of his desk with startling accuracy and ruining the neatly arranged blueprints spread atop it.

"I told you to quit calling me that," you muttered darkly. "One of these days, I'll really cut off your tongue."

He huffed, concealing his amusement. He enjoyed calling you all sorts of endearments after discovering how easily they riled you up.

There are times when Kaz allowed himself to feel, to act, like a boy again. Reconcile with a distant past, one that echoed Jordie's voice and carried the smell of fresh grass.

This was one of them. Similar to a child, Kaz reveled in your attention. Regardless if they came as threats, insults, or downright disdain.

He'd swallow a bullet first than ever admit it, though.

"How terrifying," he said, unfazed, and made swift work of straightening out the floor plan you brought him.

Silence fell, interrupted only by the soft shuffling of papers. From the corner of his eye, he noticed you shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

Normally, Kaz would come up with some sort of excuse to make you stay, but it seemed that something was on your mind.

And so, he waited.

You cleared your throat. "Do you need anything else?"

No, but thank you. You did well. Please, get some rest, his thoughts supplied. He ignored them. Instead, he simply settled on, "No."

His movements stilled. The question was unusual, especially coming from you.

"Nothing more, nothing less," you had once told him, seated on the ledge of a stadwatch tower that overlooked Ketterdam's shores. He'd nodded in agreement back then, mesmerized by the early sunlight that caressed your face.

You lived by the old saying for as long as Kaz has known you. After all, when you grew up in the Barrel, you'd learned early on that acting out of the goodness of one's heart only left a person broken. Penniless. Or worse, dead.

As such, you weren't the type to seek additional assignments without an offer beforehand. The fact that you had gone out of your way to ask was... suspicious.

His eyes finally flicked to yours. He could never afford to look at you for too long, as it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to stop once he started.

He cocked his head to the side and searched your gaze. "Why?"

You blinked, clearly caught off guard. He rarely indulged you in idle conversation or pried into your affairs.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Because despite everything you've been through together, this was the nature of your relationship too. Neither of you tried to change it, even after every scar he unraveled and laid at your feet.

Even after numerous nights spent confined in his office, shoulders almost, but never brushing one another as you pored over schemes for hours.

Even after repeatedly saving each other's necks and during the intimate silences that followed when the adrenaline wore off. Moments taut with charged tension, heaving breaths, and unspoken truths.

"I've got plans," you explained rather cryptically.

"Plans? Has someone else hired you for a job? I hope you don't forget that you belong to—"

"No, someone asked me out on a date."

Me, insisted the voice in his head, rich with desperation. You belong to me.

Kaz scoffed in disbelief. "A date? In Ketterdam?"

Fear clawed its way up his throat, determined to make itself known. It warred with another emotion he was too proud to name.

This... feeling was absurd. Sentimental. Kaz was no stranger to loss.

The seas granted Inej her freedom. A new chapter awaited Jesper and Wylan. Nina stumbled upon a second chance at love. Matthias found peace.

Yet, deep down, each farewell left him a little more empty than the last.

You were bound to Ketterdam only by virtue of being the Dreg's sole lieutenant. In truth, nothing else was preventing you from leaving.

Leaving him.

After promoting you, a tiny seed of guilt buried itself in his cold, wretched heart when he realized he held you back. That he never gave you the opportunity to pursue your dreams. Your position forced you to assume several roles, to fill in the shoes the others had given up.

But his greed outweighed his guilt and Kaz was a selfish man indeed.

The mere idea that someone could whisk you away from him brought forth a hateful bitterness from within.

"Where is the unfortunate fellow taking you?" he asked, keeping his voice deceptively calm.

You narrowed your eyes, ignoring the jibe. "It's a quaint little bar called 'none of your business.'"

Nothing more, nothing less. The phrase taunted him now. The green-eyed monster inside him rattled his ribcage ferociously, driving him to boast.

He curled his fingers around the desk's edge tightly. "Funny. I run the entirety of the Barrel, and I don't recall an establishment operating under that name."

"I'll have you know that he actually owns the place he's bringing me to," you snapped defensively.

Good, good. More information.

"And how long have you known each other?"

You shrugged. "A few weeks."

The answer relieved him somewhat. His possessiveness ebbs, its rhythm steady, before it swelled again, rising with the current of his emotions. One should always be more sure of everything. He'd learned that the hard way.

"And he's aware of who you truly are?" Kaz pressed on. "Of what you do?"

There were only a handful of possibilities. The person could have ulterior motives for approaching you. It wasn't unlikely, considering your power was only second to his.

Perhaps it was a spiteful soul he'd wronged, plotting to take advantage of you and get revenge on him.

On the other hand, there was also a chance that they weren't privy to your true identity. He couldn't blame anyone for wanting you but it was common knowledge whispered in the streets that Kaz Brekker was a man unwilling to share.

Anyone who didn't heed that advice and went against it anyway was just recklessly bold. Or stupid. The Barrel never seemed to run out of those.

This time, you broke away from his gaze. "It doesn't matter." You sniffed, feigning indifference.

The person didn't know then, he surmised. You probably met him during one of your undercover assignments, disguised and masquerading around with an alias.

Sensing his disapproval, you attempted to defend your date-to-be by adding, "He's kind. Sweet. Honest."

Everything he was not. The words, sharp as glass, ripped him apart. Crushed him with an overwhelming weight of sorrow.

"It seems naive of you to form an impression of him in such a short amount of time," he said through gritted teeth.

Pretending as if he didn't care should have been easy for him. Right now, all his years of experience in perfecting that charade were useless.

You rolled your eyes. "Not everyone is cynical and distrusting of the world like you. People can be good, Brekker."

And you deserved everything good and more. Better people could love you, he knew.

Someone who would not flinch every time you drew near. Someone who would freely kiss away your every fear.

Kaz had survived gunshots. Knife wounds. Sickness, nightmares, and grief. But the very thought of someone else soaking in your warmth was an ache he could not bear.

He felt the words scorching his tongue, his demons voicing them with unbridled cruelty. "There is a difference between being cautious and acting like a love-sick fool!"

Your eyes widened in shock, hardening in anger a second later; then they softened with disappointment, and all Kaz could see was the reflection of himself, a frenzied animal. A blown fuse. Inhumanely hollow.

He opened his mouth to speak, beg for your forgiveness, but you had already turned and walked away.

"I'll come back when you aren't hissing at me like a wet cat," you said, slamming the door behind you.

Kaz clenched his gloved hands into aching fists and hung his head, trying not to think of how jealous the idea of another man made him.

He wasn't too late. Dealing with his emotions was uncharted territory for him but scheming came as effortlessly as he breathed.

Kaz never lost a fight and he wasn't about to start now. Even if he needed to play dirty. His greed outweighed his guilt and he wasn't called Dirtyhands for nothing.

"Brekker!"

Kaz had just finished speaking with another gang member, Roeder, when he heard the heavy stomp of your footsteps, followed by the frustrated yell of his name. You appeared on the stairway landing soon after, rage thundering in your wake.

"You're dismissed." Kaz waved to Roeder. His eyes shifted to you momentarily and cast Kaz a wary glance. Not wanting to get caught in the crossfire, he scurried off, slipping past the both of you.

Kaz began to ascend the stairs, you trailing behind him. He could sense that you were shooting daggers at the back of his head, probably cursing him out silently.

"You're back early," he finally said once you entered his office. He circled back to the same place you'd left him hours earlier and sat in his chair. "How'd the date go?"

You stormed closer, wedging yourself between him and the desk, stopping him from hiding behind the pretense of work.

"You know exactly how it went," you snarled.

In spite of your anger, you remembered to maintain your distance. Not once have you commented on his aversion to skin-to-skin contact, though he was certain you harbored your own questions.

"I'm afraid I don't, darling." He raised his chin to hold your gaze, his expression carefully blank. A tailored mask. "I wasn't there."

"You had him taken by the Dregs." The hurt on your face was unmistakable, enough for Kaz to feel a tad remorseful.

It was hardly sufficient, though. Screw righteousness, old habits die hard. "Ah, I had no idea he was your date," he lied again.

"Bullshit."

"But, what I do know is that he laundered money from our coffers and forced children into building the same tavern you were just in."

Kaz went over records of the jobs you'd accomplished in the last two months. After connecting the dots, he successfully identified your date and paid Roeder to look into his background. It was pure luck that the man was a merchant who managed to con Kaz's old boss.

Pulling the strings for his capture was practically child's play. Not that he'd ever tell you that.

Your fury dissipated, replaced by defeat that slumped your shoulders. "You were right," you said quietly, avoiding his eye once more. "I'm sorry."

Kaz rose from his chair and stepped forward. Taken by surprise, you backed away instinctively, only to find yourself trapped by the desk now digging into your hip.

"Let me make it up to you," he spoke with an unfamiliar softness. It almost sounded wrong.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. "What?"

"I ruined your evening. I could have ordered the others to seize him after you finished dinner."

But I didn't want him to walk you home. Wrap his coat around your shoulders. Kiss you goodnight at the Slat's doorstep. Kaz would've probably loaded his pistol at the sight. Broken every limb that touched you with his cane.

You snorted. "Okay. Are you going to give me whatever we steal next? Increase my cut?"

"No, although we can discuss it another time. I'm inviting you out on a date."

You blinked once. Twice. Slowly, you said, "Brekker, you ask someone out when you like them."

His lips pulled into the slightest frown, mildly impatient. "I know."

"You don't like me."

"Whoever put that silly idea in your head?"

"You did. You don't like anyone."

"I may not be the best at showing it, but you know that there are exceptions to that rule," he argued. "Especially when it comes to you."

He continued to lean over you, ignoring the pressure of panic beating against the walls of his chest from the proximity.

"You called me an idiot," you countered. You refused to move a muscle, most likely out of consideration for him, but he closed the distance himself.

He dipped his head further. "Again, I never said that."

"Fine," you conceded, sounding fond. "You implied that I was an idiot."

"I'll be kinder from now on," he promised. "I can try to be sweet, if you give me time and chance to learn. And I'm being honest right now."

Nothing he could do would ever atone for his sins. But although he was renowned as the Bastard of the Barrel, he was prepared to do it right by you.

Hesitantly, you raised a hand. Every inch of his flesh wanted to turn itself inside out, but every bone in his body yearned for your touch.

A quivering sigh escaped his throat as you reached for his cheek, your fingers warm and gentle on his skin.

He braced himself for the familiar scent of death. The ocean. He willed himself to focus on the details that made your face. The line of your jaw to your ear. The slope of your nose. The curve of your lips, hanging onto them as if his life depended on it.

It did, in a way.

"Your answer?" he rasped, suppressing a shiver.

You dragged your thumb against his skin in a delicate but paralyzingly manner and whispered, "I accept."

He had never been held with such tenderness before. Your touch made him feel like he was somewhere else, far from the memories that haunted him.

Growing concerned, you attempted to withdraw your hand but Kaz grasped your wrist before you fully could. He steadied himself with your pulse, each beat, each hymn, anchoring him to the present.

He was here. With you. In his office. Nothing in the world could hurt him.

Eventually, he slid his own gloved hand so that your palms pressed together. Your lashes fluttered and you asked, "Is this really happening? Are we really going on a date?"

He hummed in affirmation. "And I'll do it properly."

Seriously, who in their right mind would bring you to that side of Ketterdam? He took the sealed envelope containing your dinner reservation from inside his coat and handed it to you.

"Thank you." Your mouth curved into a shy smile. "And for the record... you don't have to be anything else other than yourself."

"Ruthless, callous, and dishonest cheat?" His voice held a hint of insecurity, betraying his attempted nonchalance. It was a question hauled from the inner depths of his soul, the boy inside him who wondered if he could ever be worthy of love.

"You forgot insufferable," you teased, although your earnest gaze belied the lightness of your tone. He knew you could see right through him. "But, yes. Just you, Kaz. Nothing more. Nothing less."

At that moment, Kaz knew you would be his salvation and destruction. You could shatter his heart and every single piece would still cry out for your name.

He squeezed your hand. Soon, he'll make you, and everyone else in the Barrel, realize that he had no intentions of ever letting you go.

✦ byeol’s notes: new year, new fandom ?!

✦ reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! thank you so, so much in advance! <3

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mind-empty-just-fictional-people · 2 months

Text

Poems

main masterlist | supernatural masterlist

summary: dean searches your room when you’re missing, and the love letters he finds break his heart

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 1.9k (1.5k excluding poems)

warnings: reader goes/is missing, language,

author’s note: please don’t make fun of my “poetry”, i know it’s not good that’s why i don't write poems lol

“Hey Dean, I’m working a case near Wichita so I’ll probably be back home by the end of the week. See you soon, bye.”

“That’s the last I heard from her,” Dean told his brother after playing him the message you left. “It’s been over a week, I’m gettin’ worried here!”

“Do you know what kinda case she was working?” Sam asked, Dean shook his head. “Okay, well I’m sure she’s fine, Dean. Let’s call the hospitals around where she is and ask if she’s there.”

“You do that, I’m gonna head to Wichita,” Dean replied.

“I think we should call the hospitals first, Dean. She said she was near Wichita, she could be anywhere from here to there!”

Dean sighed but agreed with Sam’s plan.

The boys had no luck with any of the hospitals so they decided to head over to Wichita and look for you. They searched for a few days before heading back to the bunker, hoping you might be there waiting for them. You weren’t, of course, and that only made their worry grow.

You’d been missing for nearly two weeks!

Dean thought there might be some kind of clue in your room and decided that searching it was next on his to-do list. Though he knew he was grasping at straws, he did it anyway.

Opening the door to your room, he smiled at the poster near your bed. It was the one he’d gotten you for Christmas last year. It was a kind of gag gift—it was his favorite band. (His real gift had been much more thoughtful.)

He began his search at your desk, digging through the mess of papers splayed out on the wood surface. His brows furrowed when he found one paper in particular. It looked like… a love poem?

The way your hair looks in the morning

The way your laugh adds life to moments boring

The way your breath hits my neck when you’re standing just behind me

Reaching over to grab something off the table

A lore book, of all things to be

And the way your eyes light up when you look into mine

I swear I almost see a hint of love

Behind those piercing starlights

Your lips on mine is what I need

Did you hear me?

I said kiss me, you fool!

We’ve not got much time

In this line of life

And I need you at my side.

Dean didn’t know if the poem would be considered “good” in the public eye, but he knew it made his heart clench. You were in love? But… with whom?

To him, the words were beautiful, and the thought that you wrote them about someone else broke his fucking heart. He knew there were no clues to your whereabouts in the next poem, but of course, he read it anyway.

I think of you when I drive and spot a classic car

I think of you when I eat a cheeseburger

And I’ll turn it upside down when I’m missing you

I think of you when I hear a Zepplin song

And I turn the music up when I’m not with you

I think of you when I see anyone wear flannel

Or a leather jacket that’s clearly a size or two too big

And I love to think of you

It just makes sense to me

I love to picture you beside me

At night when I can’t sleep

Or when I get scared of what I’m facing

I think of what you would do

Day or night

Night, day, or noon

I always think of you

Whoever this mystery person was, they were fucking lucky. Dean had never felt so jealous in his entire life. He always thought you two had a “will they won’t they” side to your relationship but at that moment he realized it was completely one-sided. The fun, flirty side to all your late-night conversations had just been friendly. Two friends playfully talking as if they both wanted to be more.

Of course Dean wanted to be more. Of course he knew he wanted to be with you. But now? Now he knew he’d either missed his chance or he simply never had one.

You were in love with someone that wasn’t him. And the love you’d been writing about wasn’t the kind someone gets over. It’s the kind that sticks—for life. The kind that people write songs about, the kind that people fight wars over, and the kind that makes people go crazy in the best way.

He knew he’d found that love when he first fell for you, but it turned out you had found that love in someone else.

“Anything?” Sam asked, walking into your room.

“Uhm,” Dean cleared his throat, hoping his eyes didn’t look as cloudy as they felt. “No, nothing important. Just some love letters or something.”

Sam furrowed his brows and picked up one of the poems off the desk, one that Dean had not read yet. As the taller Winchester read what you wrote his eyes grew wide, practically popping out of his head as his mouth fell open.

“Oh my fucking god!” Sam exclaimed. “Y/n’s in love with you?” He looked at his older brother in shock.

“Me? No, these poems are about whoever she’s been seeing recently, they aren’t about me. We’re just friends.”

“You haven’t read this one yet, have you?” Sam asked with a small smile before handing it over.

You asked me today; “what’s your favorite color?”

And I just shrugged; “I don’t know, blue?”

Cause how could I have said the truth?

The color I love most in the world

The color that brings me nothing but joy

In this sad, awful little life

Is the green and hazel of your eyes

The emerald diamonds that shine

When you look into the sun

The soft hazel that looks over at me

When we’re reading in the library

How can I tell you all of this

When the question is so simple and plain

How do I go into such specific detail

About the color I’m in love with

Without freaking you out

Or scaring you away

Or making you laugh at me

Because I know your favorite color

And I know it’s not the color of my eyes

“You…You think this is really about me?” Dean asked his little brother, hoping Sam was right.

“Dean in all my life I have never seen anyone but you eat a burger bun-side-down,” Sam chuckled a little having read one of the poems Dean had read earlier.

“Oh my god.” Dean furrowed his brows, looking back down at the paper in his hands. “We’ve gotta find her, Sammy, I gotta tell her!”

“Tell her that you went through her stuff while she was gone? Don’t think that’s the best idea.”

“No! Tell her I’m in love with her! Tell her that the color of her eyes is my favorite fucking color too! And every time her favorite band comes on the radio I turn it up, and every time I see a woman wearing her type of clothes I think about her. Tell her that all I do every waking moment of every day is wish I was with her, wish I was holding her in my arms so I could never let go.”

“I think you just told her.” Sam smiled, nodding to where you now stood at your door. Dean turned around quickly. Tears of joy stung your eyes as you looked at him and smiled.

“You love me?” you asked.

“More than anything,” Dean admitted as he hurried to you. He wrapped you in a tight hug, kissing your temple quickly before he tucked your head under his chin. “I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call, it’s a long story,” you mumbled. “When vampires ban together with twisted humans, they’re a lot harder to kill.”

“We were really worried about you,” Dean admitted. “Like…fucking terrified.”

“Is that why you decided to dig through my personal shit?” you asked. You were one hundred percent kidding, but Dean was still nervous.

“Yeah…sorry,” Sam cringe-clenched his teeth, “it was my fault.”

You and Dean pulled back from the hug, but you took his hand in yours as you narrowed your gaze at the younger hunter.

“I know your tell, Sammy,” you said. “But it’s sweet that you’re trying to cover for Dean.”

“Yep, all Dean’s fault,” Sam admitted before heading for the door, giving his brother a pat on the shoulder on his way out. “Good luck.”

“Look, I didn’t mean to invade your privacy, I swear,” Dean told you quickly. “I was looking for something that might tell me where the hell you were.”

“How many did you read?” you asked.

“Three,” Dean sighed, still thinking you were pissed at him.

“So…you know, then? That I’m hopelessly in love with you? And you think I’d be mad at you for looking through my stuff?”

“I mean, I know you value your privacy.”

“Dean,” you started, putting a hand on his cheek and turning his face to look down at you, “would you please just fuckin’ kiss me already?”

He seemed almost surprised by your question but he quickly smiled as he bent down and kissed you. His one hand stayed clasped in yours while his other went to your waist and then trailed to your lower back. The hand you had on his cheek went to the upper back of his neck so you could tangle your fingers in his hair. The smiles on both of your faces only grew before you both pulled away.

“Wow, I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Dean mumbled before he let out a short, breathy laugh.

“Me too,” you replied.

You’d been back home for a few days now and you had explained the whole missing situation to the brothers. You told them how the simple vampire hunt turned sour quickly when you realized the small-town’s sheriff was in on it and helped the vamps with making humans just disappear. They’d made you as a hunter instantly and held you hostage for a few days before you killed your way out.

Dean never left your side so when he saw a new poem on your desk his brows furrowed. Curiosity got the better of him as he sat down to read it.

My god aren't I lucky

Now that you're holding me at night

And that first time we kissed in the doorway

I could’ve sworn I was kissing pure sunshine

When your lips hit mine it was better

Then I could’ve ever imagined

And the love poems I've written became

Manifested words of affirmation

The butterflies in my stomach fluttered

And the blood rushed to my head

Think I could stay like this forever

Won't overthink it, I’ll just go and kiss you instead

“Well, well, well.” You came up behind him, and put your hands on his shoulders before you trailed them down and clasped them together over his chest, leaning your chin on his shoulder and kissing his cheek. “Look who’s digging through my shit again.” You smiled against his skin. He turned his head and placed a deep kiss on your lips.

“I’m not even sorry this time, because I think this might be the best thing I’ve ever read.”

“I love you,” you said and kissed him again.

“I love you so fuckin’ much,” he mumbled back.

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max1461 · 3 months

Text

There is a common motte-and-bailey argument applied to paper over expressions of dissatisfaction with life in industrial society.

The motte is "before industrial production of vaccines and antibiotics, infant mortality rates were extremely high, and this was an inordinate tragedy that can now thankfully be prevented".

The bailey is "your claim to personal dissatisfaction with being a (post-)industrial wage laborer is invalid, it is false that you would feel more stimulated or satisfied (etc.) by a hunter-gatherer lifestyle (etc.) than by your current lifestyle".

Look, I don't know what type of lifestyle would make random internet posters feel the most stimulated or the most satisfied. I don't know if it's running around in the woods or working at a desk job or being a rich failchild. I have no fucking clue and neither do any of us, maybe not even them! Although obviously I suspect they have a better approximation of the answer than any of us do.

But what I do feel confident in saying is that 90% of people complaining about industrial society online are not anti-civ. They're not saying "let's get rid of vaccines". They're saying "boy this wage labor shit makes me unhappy, and the way people used to live looks more rewarding". I don't know if they're right, in any individual case, and also people have a lot of misconceptions about how we used to live that are worth correcting. But I can say with great confidence that no important aspect of this discussion hinges on historical child mortality rates or vaccine production. Those are relevant points when discoursing with a small set of radicals, and not with the average tumblr user romanticizing pre-industrial life.

It is not a law of the universe that when one thing gets better, everything else gets better too. Maybe that cottagecore girl or whatever actually would feel more fulfilled living off the difficult physical labor of a pre-industrial farm. Is that so hard to imagine? It seems straightforwardly plausible to me.

I think a lot of the frustration that people have with this is that the cottagecore girls and the running-around-in-the-woods guys present these ostensible lifestyle preferences with a moralizing tone. Like "you're all such sheep for wanting to live a modern life". And I get that that's annoying, but I'll point out that their discourse-foils are also doing much the same thing in reverse: "you're all such fools for thinking you'd enjoy working on a farm more than in an office". I don't know, maybe they would! I don't think they are necessarily being fools!

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mockerycrow · 6 months

Note

No cuz I'm totally having brain rot of reader and either Price or Gaz. The reader is such a control freak that they cannot justify letting anyone do anything that they don't agree with, until Price or Gaz just come in and fuckin manhandle the reader into submission or something. Bros, I... this got me feelin some type of way 😩

this is a ramble, but!!! my brain couldn’t stop. — PRICE X GN!READER!

[IMPLIED PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP + DOM!PRICE (DOM/SUB DYNAMICS). NO ACTUAL SEX BUT VERY SUGGESTIVE.]

You looked down at the unsorted papers across the desk in front of you, your nerves running high and your stomach twisting. “They never fucking listen.” You mutter, leaning down to write an edit to your newly formatted plan. You had suggested a near fool-proof plan to the team for the upcoming mission that’s happening in a week—it only had one flaw, but it was a flaw you kept insisting that could be overlooked! The building blowing up was not the worst case scenario—

You hear someone knock on the door to your barracks. “Come in!” You call without looking up from your papers. You hear your door swing open and with just hearing the hefty sound of a boot, you already know who it is. You don’t turn around as you sigh and toss the pen back down onto the papers. “John, I honestly don’t really know why you guys aren’t listening to me,” You begin to ramble. “Yes, a building blowing up is bad but is it the worst? I feel as if there’s other bad things that could happen, worse than the building blowing up—“

You gasp as you feel his warm body press against yours. His ungloved hand comes around and gently cupping your throat as his other hand grabs your hip and pulls your hips flush against his, making your head go fuzzy and your words stutter into a stop. Your eyelids flutter shut as you feel him press a kiss to your scalp before he leans in your ear. “Yeah, there you go. All settled down for me now, hm?” John murmurs, amusement lacing his tone.

You shiver when his breath hits your ear, and you feel your heart pounding in your chest. Your lips part for you to speak but you quickly stop when John’s hand squeezes your throat in warning, making a pathetic whimper leave your lips, making him chuckle. It makes your face burn. “I think you’ve been worrying too much, sweetheart,” John retorts, making you lean over the desk, keeping his hips connected to yours. It’s taking every bone in your body to not roll back against him. “Thinking too much. It’s time to change that, don’t you think?”

You nod obediently, so instinctively in fact that you don’t even notice you’re agreeing with him. Your head spins, he lets go of your throat, and then moves his hand to the back of your neck—pressing your face into the desk. Your breathing stutters when his boot knocks your legs apart and the excited groan that leaves you is nothing less than desperate when John presses his crotch against you once more.

He hums in approval and one of his hands grabs your arm, pinning it to the flat of your back. John’s other hand grabs your hip and easily rocks you back against his cock, making your lower body melt. You must’ve made a noise that you don’t remember making, because you hear John tsk and squeeze your hip with a low voice saying, “Words, darling.”

Your eyebrows furrow for a moment as your lips part and all that comes out is a garbled, “please”. John laughs and moves his hand from your hip to your leg, lifting it and forcing you to put it on the table, exposing your clothed crotch to him—you don’t even whine about the crinkled papers, especially because you know by the time John’s done with you, they’ll be completely ruined. “Good pet.”

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tarjapearce · 12 days

Text

The Immorality Of Love (Pt. 1)

Duke! Miguel O'Hara x Courtesan! Reader.

WARNINGS: Mild angst, power dynamics, emotional distress, sexual tension, No use of Y/N, Mild smut, Oral (M! Receiving), implicit sexual activities. No proofread, Historical innacuracy for the sake of the plot

Summary: More than just directions and simple business.

A/N: ngl, nervous about this, but anyway, hope you enjoy <3. Inspired in the first scene of Pretty Woman <3

Random fact: poverty, insecurity, physical danger, alcoholism, disease and police harassment were just a few of the things that prostitutes around that time were subjected to.

The more papers and seals he went through, the more the need to rip his hair in a rage fit grew. Painfully as the thought was, he'd rather feel that kind of discomfit than keep absorbing the words coming from the other end of the line.

"No, no. It wasn't like that. You know I'm-"

Busy as usual. As ever and probably forever. Something Dana often seemed to forget.

The black and gold metallic tech device rested smooshed against his cheek and shoulders, its cord had tangled underneath his arm, making him fuss through, trying to pry his arm away from it's grasp.

An annoyed sigh escaped his lips as Dana kept complaining.

"Dana, corazón, look-"

His hand rubbed his heavy countenance, awash with so many things he thought his brain would collapse.

"Oh... Okay. Uh... Thanks for your time, ok? I... I had fun. Yeah." He fred himself free from the cord's grasp and put the letters in his free hand on his desk, "I'm sorry. Good luck."

He hung the call as his shoulders slumped with the toll of his stress baggage, that quickly was picked up again as soon as Peter came through the door.

"You're missing your own birthday party, Your grace." Peter loved annoying him with the formal title he strictly forbid him to use.

"My intention precisely."

Peter served him a glass of whiskey and pushed it to him.

"I believe Gabriel won't appreciate this little stunt. You're still working, missing your birthday party-"

"And Dana just dumped me." The chuckle escaping his plump mouth wasn't remorseful, but a relieved one. Peter's brow just quirked and sighed.

"That's perfect then! More reasons for you to just come down and enjoy your own celebration. You're turning 32! Do you know how many people don't make it that far?"

"Are you calling me old?"

"A relic. And grumpy hermit too. Let's go."

Miguel rooted deeper in his seat and Peter's face went blank.

"Are you seriously doing this right now?"

"I just wanna go home for the night, Parker. Drink my new bottle and sleep." He slurred, tiresome.

Peter was about to come up with a quip but Miguel's stomach rumbled.

"Yeah, no, that ain't happening. Move it."

"I am the Duke of Nueva York, Parker. I will not-"

"And I'm your best friend. Move. You gotta eat at least something. Mingle a bit, make the celebration historical by actually remaining for more than an hour, then you can leave."

Miguel's lips twisted in a tired smile, with a resigned heave he gulped down the whiskey and followed Peter downstairs.

-----

As historical as his assistance was, the minutes had stretched incredibly long. His hand reached for his ever trusting golden pocket clock and scowled almost imperceptibly when he noticed the hours. A quarter past nine and his head started to hurt.

In fact, the boisterous mumbles from people had his head spinning. He was already making a fool of himself by faking a laugh to Gabriel's jokes and exchanging pleasantries with people that were only after him for favors or trying to get to know their single female relatives.

But enough was enough when someone begun slurring his words and dripping his drink on the floor. Alcohol became a bit too pungent when he approached the food table, so he turned left, missing some people, quickly nodding a hello here and there, swimming through the sea of unknown people until he reached the main entrance.

His heart dictated it was time to leave, it's powerful hammering resonating within his ribcage. He secured his hat on top of his head and marched towards the carriages.

Damned be his mind if he was to remain another second inside. But damned be his luck for not finding anyone to drove him home.

The door creaked and Gabriel's raucous laugh froze him in the spot.

"Where are you going, Miguel?"

The aforementioned tensed as he approached the carriage with the attached horses.

"Home. Where are the chauffeurs at?"

"Inside, in your party. Told them to take the night off. Go back inside, Migue."

"Ah, cómo chingas. Look... I'm tired, a terrible headache, got job to do and I can smell the whiskey from here on you. "

"You're the only person I know that hides from his own birthday."

Miguel hopped in the front seats of the carriage, the structure creaked and dipped under his weight as the horses tapped the grassy floor. Gabriel's mirthful laugh only deepened the scowl on his already tired face as he mimicked his eldest brother.

"And if I can recall you still fear horses, Miguelito."

"Cállate." He grumbled while securing his clock in his pocket, "Don't get too drunk, I've got enough complains of you to discuss with the king."

If none was to drive him back home, he'd make do. Even if the horses held a secret grudge on him. But if this was what it took to get out and be free to have his own personal celebration in his room, then so be it.

"Ajá. Ya, vete pues." (Right, go on now.)

The younger O'Hara chided as he watched his brother ready to depart. This gave him an idea.

Miguel fixed his hat again and took a hold of the reins. Gabriel approached, sauntering towards the horses and your grace's unsuspecting being.

"I forgot. Happy Birthday, brother of mine."

Miguel's eyes widened as Gabriel slapped the horse's rear, igniting their angry galloping, taking a cursing Duke away from him.

"Cabrón!-"

-----

For how long had he been wandering the streets? He recognized some avenues and milieu, but a wrong turn had taken him to a relatively unknown area.

Although the buildings kept their refined air, the washed up and cracked walls started making an impromptu appearance in his line of vision. A couple of people stared his way to quickly scramble back into whatever business they thought better to attend.

Even the floor and smells had changed. The duke couldn't help but grumble as the stony and jagged texture of the floor made his carriage to bump and shake erratically. There was no smoothness to make the steering steady, the floral and occasional bakery smell was quickly replaced by the smell of opium, industrial filth and other unpleasant odors.

He didn't know what was worse, to admit to none but himself that he was lost, since his daily route was his manor, the king's palace and the office of his empire. Or the random smells that fought for a spot in his nose, pouncing on his senses.

His discomfort grew the more he ventured into the changing scenarios. But it also gave him a glimpse of those he was assigned by the king to protect and watch over.

Little were the things that managed to surprise him greatly, but seeing the scenery pass and turn into a more rundown, less fancy and acquainted place, got his skin crawling softly under the linens of his warm frock coat.

Even a man of his calibre knew to not tempt fate and with a whip on the reins, the horses galloped faster, wherever it was better than this part of the city he didn't know.

As spoiled as the thought was, he really hated not having his chauffer at his immediate disposition. He wouldn't have to deal with these situations, he wouldn't have to feel like a lost pampered puppy that escaped his guarded home, only to be out there by his own in the cold and unforgiving night streets.

Even the horses refused to keep going forward to a much more secluded and darker area, guarded by the slithering shadows that would play games with his mind if he stared long enough.

A breath hitched on his throat as the horses turned left and took the opposite road, away from the lurking danger. To his luck and awestruck, the horses indeed knew the route and guided him to an area that, although he had seen a couple of times, it ended up in a familiar environment.

The boutiques and coffee shops started to take shape as the galloping kept going through the enlightened stony and steady path. The wheels creaked merrily upon being on familiar territory again.

The crawl on his skin stopped only to be replaced by a sudden gasp when the horses stood in their hind legs as a stray cat crossed their paths out of nowhere, scaring them. Miguel barely could take a hold of the reins, as the horses pulled and his back collided against the hard wood of the carriage.

"B-Basta!" He huffed nervously while he held his hat as the other hand secured the grip on the leather ropes, trying to stop the horses, but they kept running, as if the black tiny monster with beady eyes chased after them.

"Shit!"

The carriage turned into to a bustling area and suddenly halted into a corner, Miguel bounced hard in his seat as the transport parked forcefully above the sidewalk, earning a frightful gasp and murmurs from the people around.

Without much thought he stepped off the carriage and released a breath he didn't know it had been stuck in his tightened throat for a while.

"Condenado gato, asustándome así." His nostrils flared with a heavy sigh, as his hands scrambled underneath the seat to see if he could find anything remotely helpful to guide himself back to his manor. (Fucking cat, scaring me like that)

Miguel nearly slapped himself upon finding a neatly folded map in the further corner of the seat. A hand passed over his impatient face before unfolding it and taking a good scrutinizing look in it. None of the names sounded familiar for him, not even the post with the signal Maxwell's Avenue before him rang a bell into his befuddled head.

Where was he?

The soft clicks of a pair of heels behind him made to look at the lady behind him.

"Are you alright, my lord?"

Even though her voice was sweet with sultry undertones in it, Miguel could recognize almost immediately her profession. A courtesan. A fancy and less crude word for a prostitute, whose soft and floral aroma tickled his senses.

"I'm not interested."

----

Upon hearing those words your brow quirked and stared at him for couple of seconds. He was definitely a nobleman, the tallest and most build up man you've seen so far, His frock coat and the golden chain attached to his chest where his clock was, said everything you needed.

A potential client. Although reluctant.

He could redefine the word handsome if someone took a proper look into his face. Sharp features that were as strong as his nose and angry looking eyes. Lips twitched with contained fury the more he stared at the map on his trembling hands.

Your attention wandered to said piece of paper only to let out a humored scoff. Brown eyes snapped your way immediately upon the noise.

"You're holding the map backwards, my lord. Bid you a goodnight."

You turned around and walked back but his voice calling you with a 'Wait' made your lips stretch into a thin yet knowing smile.

"Yes, sir?", wispy eyelashes fluttered with each blink you gave him.

The man cleared his throat and inched the map closer to you.

"Where am I?"

"Where do you need to go?"

His eye twitched almost involuntarily at your reply, but if he wanted to go home, at this point any help would come in handy.

"Babylon-"

The horses tapped the floor a bit more impatiently as they shook their mane. His hands tightened in balls in each side of him.

"Babylon manor."

Your brows puckered in as he kept turning and turning the map.

"I could take you there, if you wish to."

"No. I just need-"

The horse's forceful neigh made Miguel to clutch his hands tighter, nearly digging his nails in his palms.

"Shut up!"

He roared at the beast that only blew an annoyed sigh his way. Earning a giggle from you.

"You're making the horses and me nervous, my lord."

A heavy and blasé heave came from his nostrils, folding the map in a haste. Mirth crossed your features on his distress.

"Glad that at least I'm amusing you."

"Although, that's my job, my offer to take you there for a little fee, of course, remains."

With little to lose and patience he gestured you towards the carriage. With a proud smile you gave him a little curtsey and stepped on the same spot as he was sitting instead of the inside of the carriage.

His bushy brow quirked at your choice of seat but little he could do about it. You pulled a fan and blew yourself with it as your eyes studied every movement.

Reins a bit too tight on his heavy looking hands, frame so frigid and mechanic you thought he'd break upon sitting next to you, swallowing the space with his sheer size. Lips and brows puckered in an apparent permanent frown and his gorgeous eyes that hid a crimson glint in it, if you dared to look closer.

He whipped the ropes and the horses walked on with a pull that had you clutching to your seat. Fear however begun growing after the speed of their trotting increased, passing and turning blocks in a blink of an eye.

"Stop them!"

"I'm trying woman!" He hissed, more nervous than angered.

Without much thought you took the leather ropes from him and pulled back with all your might. If it wasn't for him placing an arm before you, your body would have lurched forward and off the carriage.

"My goodness..."

Both of your chests rose upon the short and quivering breaths your lungs exhaled

"Are you alright?"

You gave him a shaky nod, while your hand loosened the grip on the horse's command. In truth, Miguel's bile had rose up his throat. For a moment he really thought he'd lose control of the carriage and his name would be in the morning newspaper with the title 'The Duke crashed cause he's unable to drive by himself properly due an irrationalequine fear."

"I should ask you that, my lord. You're paling."

But he didn't crashed nor would appear in the news, thanks to you.

"Should I take the lead?"

"You know how to ride?"

"That and more, yes. Though I rather the term drive" His brows crinkled upwards at your reply, taken aback by your quip, earning him another chuckle from you, "But I know enough to get my way around horses without being nipped or kicked."

Your hand caressed the neck and mane, in an attempt to soothe the beast's nerves. Curiosity tugged at his seams. A courtesan that knew how to drive.

Times change I suppose.

His mind mused, and his hands rested on his hips, without much thought he mumbled: "Be my guest, then."

"Hop in then, sir."

You got into the carriage front seat and patted the space next to you. He obeyed.

----

Against all odds, you took him home. Ride back happened smoothly without the horses trying to kill him, they obeyed without a hitch under your command. A clear screw you from the annoying beasts that made him look like an utter useless fool.

Once close enough, you gave him the reins back to him and got down the carriage before his staff approached, leaving his hand on the air while trying to help you to get down.

He followed and straightened his coat and hat.

"Safe and sound, aren't we?"

He nodded as your eyes locked on each other briefly before a valet took the horses away.

"Then, I'll be happy to receive my payment and leave you be, my lord."

The payment, of course.

"Right. And what is this fee of yours for helping a stranger?"

"You say so like I'm robbing you, my lord." he chuckled, "I'm sure twenty crowns won't make you less rich."

"They won't." He searched inside his vest and pulled out a 20 bill from his wallet.

"A pleasure to help you, sir."

You bowed to him with a satisfied smile and gathered your skirt.

"Just a quick thing, don't whip the horses too hard. They hate it."

"Noted." he nodded before approaching the door, "Be careful out there."

"Appreciate your concern, my lord. Bid you a good night."

With a final curtsey you turned around and walked towards the corner. Some of his staffs threw discreet glances your way others swarmed Miguel with their attention as usual.

The street had slowly turned less concurred as the night kept advancing, and too bad you had forgotten your pocket watch at home. Walking was always good for the health, but at this hour alone, you rather not poke at the devil's tail to see what he had in store for you.

Miguel watched you for a second, Securing the shawl on your shoulders, an ethereal soft gleam on your skin provoked by the post lamp nearby was quickly covered as you straightened your back, enhancing the sight of your mounds for a moment.

He blinked away the glimpses of your beauty to finally gather his thoughts and walk inside. Not that he was strange to courtesans, Gabriel had once arranged himself a night with a couple, only to be ditched as soon as they laid their eyes on him.

His frock coat and hat were quickly taken away to be hung. He ordered his new bottle of mezcal while his hands pulled and rolled up at the wrist of his sleeves up to his elbows.

His ears perked up upon hearing some jeering comments from a man outside. His steps guided him back towards he just came from.

"Kindly, fuck off you twat"

Miguel chuckled at your sharp and dirty mouthed reply to the man that quickly thought his words upon catching him peeking out of the main entrance. The Duke truly thought you had already walked away.

With half wobbly steps the man left as you shot an apprehensive yet grateful look his way.

"Thanks."

His head bobbed in a brief nod, and slowly approached you again.

"Waiting for someone?"

"Maybe. Do you know them perhaps?"

Miguel quirked his brow with a bit of confusion. You sighed.

"My apologies, drunkards get me on edge. And I am waiting for a carriage to take me back to my district. Don't wanna risk myself at this hours into unknown territory."

He crossed his arms.

"Where do you head to?"

"Doubt you'd like to know that, sir."

Your eyes were keen in the horizon, but no carriage or known face approached.

"Time seems to be a problem for you."

"I'm working. Gotta make the most out it. But since this a new territory and I've seen nothing but empty streets, I'll go back."

A Hmm came out of him while he stood next to you.

"Alright, then how much for a night?"

You blinked while facing him, "Pardon me?"

"You're still... working, right?"

You nodded.

"Then, how much for the night?"

As unexpected as his question was, the words that flew out of your mouth surprised you even more.

"300 crowns." you blurted.

He pursed his lips in a pondering movement, then nodded.

"Alright. Let's get you inside."

In truth the quantity was just a coy to see if he bit the bait, and it was double the amount you needed to get that lovely perfume you so needed. But money was money.

"As you wish, my lord."

You didn't imagine he'd actually agree. But now that he had, you followed him inside. However, he told you to wait before disappearing for a moment, only to return with a coat and drape it around your shoulders.

"What is this?"

"A coat" Your face went blank, "It'll save us some trouble."

Once again your feet resumed their walking inside, and for a minute, you wished to have eidetic memory to remember everything, so you could print it all out and have a proof of the place's exquisite grandeur, and for Aveline to see this with her own beautiful blue eyes.

She always boasted with descriptions you'd only find in the many magazines Avy managed to steal from their unsuspected client's homes. But now, you were in one of them, walking up the marbled stairs that were dressed up in a shade of velvet that could be mistaken for a rivulet of blood rolling down under your feet.

But there was not that coppery smell flooding your nose, no. Au contraire, the place smelled like it was doused in a gentle breeze of vanilla, an appalling contrast to the lavender incense you were used to at this point.

It blended well with the delicate floral aroma oozing from your pores. A couple of staff members dallied around, interrupting with their greetings towards Miguel, some spared a glance your way and of course murmurs ensued. But it didn't matter, you were getting your new perfume and possibly a couple of brand new accessories for all you cared.

The room, the master bedroom you supposed, was as beautiful as the rest. Majestic and powerful like it's owner.

A few little statues here and there adorned his room, the smell of vanilla and a tinge of a liqueur you had never smelled before filled in your lungs pleasantly.

He went straight to his desk after closing the door behind him.

"May I remove this now?"

His hands rummaged through the haphazard stacked up papers while you removed and hung up the coat somewhere, not really waiting for his reply.

Your eyes still wandered around as you sauntered over his desk.

"With a place like this, I'd be gladly turn into a hermit. Are you by chance an undercover prince?"

Miguel chuckled and pulled out his pen while sitting properly on his throne

"Close. But no. I'm the Duke."

Your brows rose in surprise but quickly vanished into an amused smirk as soon as he started removing his vest and fiddled with the tie around his neck.

The knot tightened the more he struggled with it. You stepped closer and slid your hands briefly on his chest to have a good feel of him.

Solid, well worked, and a hundred percent real. Your fingers hooked in the tie and pulled him gently towards you.

His lips parted to then swallow an invisible lump at the action alone. Dexterous hands quickly managed to untie the tangled fabric around his too dressed up neck, freeing him from his temporary torment. His perfume was another smell to add to the wondrous list you discovered tonight.

Woody, a hint of cinnamon and a fine vanilla tobacco.

"Didn't know the Duke of Nueva York was afraid of horses."

He grunted and rolled his eyes.

"I'd rather not discuss that."

You chuckled while fetching your small hand purse. You pulled out a piece of hardened paper sealed and signed by a doctor, and placed it before him.

His eyes gazed at it curiously, to then widen softly at the different array of condoms you pulled from the sides of your boots to then seat on his desk.

"You might pick one after you've read my medical checks."

"Quite the safety buffet you have there."

Your shoulders shrugged, "You never know with royalty and I like to be safe."

He nodded with a tiny smile as everything was in order, the card had nothing but a couple of days old. Madame Lewis always insisted in regular checkups, and it paid off. You had learned how to recognize the symptoms of some popular diseases by now. Knowledge was sure a powerful tool.

He eyed the condoms and released a brief and deep chuckle. Upon silence you put them back in your purse and faced him once more with a sultry smile. Your spine slanted enough towards him to give him a better look of your mounds.

He wasn't immune towards a lady's charms. Your eyes caught his taking a quick peek.

"So... what now? What will you have me doing?"

"I don't know." his cheek rested against his knuckles and stared your form, even though a courtesan, your taste in fashion was refined and by the quality materials of your clothings, he assumed you were a middle class paramour, "I didn't plan on this, if honest."

"Oh? I see." Your eyes darted through the many papers in his desk, "You do seem the type to plan it all though."

"Of course, someone has to. Excuse my maners, but I forgot your name completely."

A smirk came to your rouged lips,

"How can you forget something that has never been given to you, my lord?"

His nostrils heaved merrily upon your comment while his head nodded approvingly.

"Touché."

You scoffed, "Violet."

"Violet what?"

"Just plain Violet. Yours?"

It was his turn to scoff in disbelief. Were you living under a rock?

"I apologize but, I refuse to believe you don't know my name yet."

It was your turn to laugh, "I'm sorry but, even if my clients won't shut about politics and royalty , I still don't know your name, your grace. It always escapes the confinements of my mind."

His eyes wandered a bit over your face, but quickly averted them, to focus on the flirty frills of your dress. You knew exactly where to flaunt and where to leave it au naturale. He'd be a liar to not say you were one of the prettiest courtesans he had seen so far. He had them twice in his life, and with this a third.

"It's Miguel."

"Oh," you tested his name in your tongue, it tingled with excitement, "I suppose it suits you."

"Does it?"

Miguel stood and served two glasses of mezcal, his hand offered you one. He approached the door and called for an assortment of fruits and other light snacks, then returned to his seat.

"I've never met a Duke named Miguel before. But it sounds... almost delicious to say so."

"Delicious?" He drank his shot in a go, a pleasant growl escaped after the liqueur burned good in his throat.

"Pleasant even." You followed into drinking your shot, face souring for a moment. His tongue swept over his lips, tasting the remnants of mezcal on them.

His gaze turned bolder with the passing of seconds, staring intermittently at your chest, face and neck.

After a couple of minutes a maid knocked, interrupting his line of thoughts and put the tray on a nearby table, gave a curtsey and left you alone again.

"How would you rate my performance as a Duke?"

The question as unexpected and random as it was, escaped his mouth. He was still into work mode and clearly not used to have company. It threw you off for a second.

Your brows rose in disbelief and amusement, "I assure you, that you won't like the answers, your grace."

That's when his shoulders shook with a brief yet genuine titter.

"That bad, huh?"

You shrugged while placing the glass in the table to lean his way, pushing your breasts to a more open sight. Inviting him in.

"Yes. But you aren't paying me to talk about work. Are you?"

"What if I am?" He slouched even more comfortably on his seat.

"Then I believe one bottle of this" You pointed at the mezcal, "won't be enough for neither of us."

-----

The clock had ticked eleven pm, conversation soon branched into different topics, from the ridiculous names some clothes were called, to a bit of surface personal information.

"How old are you turning, my lord?"

You popped a green grape into your mouth as he downed another glass if mezcal. The outer corset had been long gone, same as pretension and the accessories on your hair.

Even though still reserved, his whole demeanor had allowed itself to relax. He ate what he couldn't back at his own party and the mezcal bottle had decreased it's contents.

"Thirty two. Why?"

"Just curious. It has come to my attention that the Duke of Nueva York isn't a wrinkly old man. I'm quite surprised, if honest."

"I will be one in a couple of decades. That if work doesn't kills me first."

He had to order another platter of charcuterie since the first one was entirely devoured by him.

"It won't. You seem too stubborn for it."

He chuckled, "You're none to talk about being stubborn."

You scoffed, faking offense, "I call it perseverance, and at least I know how to manipulate a map, my lord."

He didn't know if it was the alcohol slowly turning up his senses or your company that against all odds, had been one of the few things memorable for the night. He had lit up the fire to warm the room.

"The map was outdated." he grumbled without actual anger behind it.

You just nodded with a playful smile while sitting before the fireplace to get a bit of warm. He remained sat on his chair, legs comfortably sprawled open on top.

"Of course it was, your grace, I hope it'll be updated soon so you don't get lost again."

The soft cracks of the wood reigned over the sudden silence. The fire's auriferous gleam bathed your silhouette, investing an ironically beatific sight on you.

"Hopefully not. I won't have the luck to count on your help, I'm afraid."

Your shoulders twinkled with the fire's light as they accompanied your sweet laugh and his eyes closed for a moment.

The day had been quite the feat, but before all of it played as a movie in his head and his mind recurred to the internal and ever pondering monologue, the warm touch of your hands in his thighs grounded him immediately to the present.

Right in the moment where your bare fingers roamed the territory of his clothed legs and hips.

"How are you able to keep this... physical condition?" your hands gave a brief and marveling squeeze and a twitch traveled all over his body.

"Hard work." He heaved when you stopped to rise on your feet, eyes glinting upon confirming he was looking.

Slowly, your fingers danced above your chest to then drag them through the fabric ans reach for the back buttons of your dress with expertise, freeing yourself from the inhibition with each unclasp, to finally remove the first layer.

"I see. It has paid off, I admit."

His lips curved proudly to quickly and subtly licks his lips.

His pupils were blown open when his unabashed stare darted from your mouth to the peeking taut nipples that pushed against the see-through fabric of your chemise, begging to be released.

Lovely, generous and perfect size for his hand.

If his demeanor wasn't trained for self-control, he'd definitely look like a precocious youngster, unable to talk because a woman was getting naked before him.

The right side of his head rested on his index and middle finger, his thumb rubbed in circles in the juncture of his jaw. Watching and enjoying the parsimonious and erotic dance your hands did to remove your skirt, revealing nothing but the long, sheer cream colored chemise that left everything yet little to his growing volatile imagination.

The bustier only donned your waist with a perfect dip to accentuate your also generous hips. His hands would undoubtedly fit perfectly in that curve.

Hid eyes darted to his hands but immediately resumed to your show to not miss anything important. Meaning everything. The lack of underwear in your body stirred up the crawling in his skin.

A calculated turn and bend to reach for your shoes gave him a proper display of what laid under the little remnants of clothes still clinging to you. Purposely torturing his psyche with the corruption of mind and thoughts.

How would you feel like in his hands?

Nothing but smooth and lovely skin. The stockings embraced your supple thighs in a way that for a brief fraction of time, he wished to be the elastic band around them.

He didn't know who to blame for his sudden flustered and urgent state. He could blame the top quality mezcal for making his skin thrum and burn with enough heat to turn it highly receptive to external stimuli.

Your shoes were removed, and soon your hands, deftly undid your bustier.

Or the lack of physical and willing altercation in his lavish bed eons ago.

Or you, for actually entertain him with more than he had originally thought.

Not even he was so sure about his tiredness anymore. Not when you prowled your way towards him, hips swaying in a sultry motion, breast bouncing softly at each step.

His breath hitched when the chemise was gone and you kneeled between his thighs. Dainty fingers unbuckling and undoing his belt and trousers single-handed and deftly. Nothing but the stockings adorned your form.

"As much as I'd love to keep talking," the inner flesh of his bottom lip was trapped in between his teeth as your warm and soft hand ventured within his trousers and grazed the velvet skin of his still trapped erection, "I also believe money must be earned properly."

Damn him for being such a primitive man to surrender so quickly under your touch. For purposely starving his body from the sensations he was going through at the moment.

Damn you for stroking his ego when your countenance lit up in surprise upon watching his cock springing alive in it's full and healthy glory a few inches away your face.

He shrugged nonchalantly and his eyes glued on your next movement

"Consider yourself lucky, my lord. I usually do not engage into the arts of oral pleasures," Your hand took a gentle yet firm hold of him, stroking enough to make him release a pleasurable yet quiet moan, "I'll make an exception for the night though, you're to be celebrated after all."

He gulped a blown breath before it could escape as you marked his skin with soft kisses until you reached his flushed tip.

"Happy Birthday, your grace."

And, oh damned you for taking the challenge between your lips and remind him how much of a man he was.

---

The bird's chirping was louder the more seconds ticked, but it was enough to finally ground consciousness to your body.

You bolted awake. Fear seeped in upon not recognizing instantly your surroundings, but when the bell rang with the memory, the urge to leave increased tenfold.

As heavenly as the bedsheets felt against your skin, you flinched from them and gathered your things, but hips protested. Despite having the experience, none had prepared you for taking The Duke.

A man that was currently missing and out of the rooms sight. The curtains were draped in enough to block the sun's glory to hit you right in the face. You changed as hastily as you could. After all his bed was behind closed doors.

Shit

Even though the walk of shame was unavoidable the least you could do was to look the least tussled as possible. Once you were dressed you searched in your purse, a couple less condoms in your repertoire, to finally reach for the tooth powder and clean your teeth.

One of the many important rules you had self imposed in your licentious life had been broken.

Do not overstay.

As it could only bring nothing but trouble your way. You didn't want a lover, much less to engage into a life that only happened to good and obeying women.

And you weren't good, according to none but your own musings, nor obedient. You secured your shoes and straightened up your posture as you draped your shawl over your shoulders that still tingled with the Duke's capricious hands.

Miguel had been a gentleman, he never once did something you didn't feel comfortable with, yet still, his pleasure was the main focus of everything. It wasn't personal, nor intimate, just plain old business, like you always made it.

You found him reading the newspaper on his desk, a cup of steaming coffee next to him along some other foods that without admitting made your mouth salivate.

His eyes rose to meet you

"Good morning."

"Morning. I overslept, my apologies, sir."

You bowed your head and he sipped his cup.

"It's fine. I didn't know what would you like, so, got you a bit of everything."

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously with a frown at both the food and him. A bit of crumbs of a round sweet bread still remained on the corner of his lips.

"I appreciate your... attentions, my lord. But I'm good and I've got to go."

His body was dressed up in a light vest, his shirt rolled up yo his elbows and pants, ready for another day of work.

"Of course."

He stared at your concern for a couple of seconds before standing up and reaching for his wallet.

He pulled a couple of hundred crown bills and placed it before you. The sooner you got paid, the sooner you'd get home, take a long bath and finally go get that perfume before sleeping properly the day away.

Your hands counted it in, and your frown furrowed upon finding two hundred extra.

"Your grace? Here." You placed the bills on the table where he could see them, "You put some more by mistake."

"Oh, no, it wasn't. They're, uh... they're yours. A gift."

His lips curved softly in a small smile that quickly vanished upon your next words.

"A gift for doing what you hired me for?"

Miguel blinked, "I didn't mean it that way. It's an extra for-"

You didn't know if nervousness or anger was coursing through your veins, but it was unpleasant and you needed it out of your system.

"Let's get something clear, your grace. I'm aware my job is anything but reputable. But I do not take charity nor pity from anyone. Much less royalty."

He gulped, genuinely confused and taken aback from your reaction.

"I-I apologize. thought that you-"

"That I'd accept it? No. you're sadly mistaken. I know life circumstances have pushed me to choose this path of living, but do not dare insult me. Do not mistake my work for affection you can buy."

You left the money on the table and rushed to the door.

"Wait! Violet!"

by the time he reached this bedroom doors, you were already descending the stairs, head high and proud despite the unbelieving and horrified expressions by the staff at your haste to finally leave.

His shoulders slumped with a dragging groan as he remained on the doorframe of his room.

"That's not what I meant at all..."

A misunderstanding with a courtesan was the perfect way to start his day. Gabriel had mentioned him a couple of times to never give extra money to the professional entertainers, selfless kindness wasn't a concept in their life's vocabulary and it could be often mistaken as something else.

Like what just happened.

"Gooddamit."

But there was little to do about it and his mind dragged him out of it to pull him on the working mode again.

----

In his many years of friendship, it was rare when Peter behaved evasive, and fiddled with his hands a bit too much. His friend's pacing over his office had Miguel dizzy.

"Can you stay the hell still and spit it out at once?"

Miguel's terse voice only provoked an annoyed groan on Peter.

"You..." Parker's nostrils flared up with a plucky sigh and faced him.

"The Prince is organizing a little vacation to his villa. He wants us there."

A bushy brow from the Duke raised to then roll his eyes and resuming his work into signing papers and reading reports.

"And?"

"W-What do you mean and? You know whose going?"

"Not really, nor care. I won't go."

Peter's teeth 'tsk'ed' at his reply. "You are to be there. The Prince invited you specifically, and you know how Osborn gets when you ignore his whims."

"Yeah, no wonder why his father doesn't trusts him with Nueva York and I have to correct his stupidities."

Miguel slicked a hand ovef his hair to accommodate the straying strands off their order.

"Right. You have to call Dana."

"She dumped me on my birthday and she's too far, remember?"

"Well, you'll need someone to go with. Everyone is tired of seeing you alone and sulking during those reunions."

"I've got-"

Peter interrupted, knowing his words at this point. "Priorities, I know. Want me to find you someone?"

"Appreciated but no. I already have someone in mind."

Peter blinked and immediately sat before him

"You do?"

"Yes. Where is Gabriel?"

"Traveling outside the city. He'll join us in the trip later"

"Ese cabrón siempre evadiendo responsabilidades... Let me know when returns." (That fucker's always avoiding his duties.)

"Do I know her?" Peter clasped his hands before him, trying to pry more information out straight from the horse's mouth.

"No, which is good and bad."

"You need to start speaking sense, Miguel."

"It's good cause none around here knows her, and bad precisely for that. But since you're eager to help me, you'll do exactly that."

He handed Peter a small paper piece with a name.

"Violet? What's with this?"

"It's the name. Give it to Lyla. She'll look her up. Need an address by the end of this week. Tell her to look up in the neighbor districts.

"What if-"

"There's no what ifs in here, Parker. Split the search."

"So this means you're coming?"

"If I say yes, will you shut up?"

"Say no more. I'll look for this Violet to you."

"If you find her do not approach her. Let that to me."

Peter didn't know whether to be excited or scared. But he trusted Miguel.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder, what had happened the previous night? Even better yet, who was this Violet?

-----

Taglist:

@kate-ohara @del-ightfulling

#t writes✨#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #the immorality of love

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weird-is-life · 1 year

Note

Black cat energy reader getting all blushy and out of character bc of her huge crush on spencer ❤️

Hii, thank u for this request. I don't know If I wrote what u wanted, but I tried. Sorry this is so bad🥺🥺🤭 (1k)

Slow day at the Bau means, that everyone is trying not to fall asleep at their desks.

Hotch is in his office, hard-working as always. Spencer dissappeared somewhere. Rossi is pretending to be working, but he is in fact badly hiding a book in his lap. Emily and Derek aren't even trying to pretend to work, they find you more interesting than their reports.

You are munching on your cookies, while you frown at your paperwork.

Well, they aren't particularly staring at you as they are at the cookies on your table.

They are contemplating wether they should go ask for one or if they want to live.

Everyone knows, that you aren't the most optimistic person on your good days and you are even grumpier on the worse days.

Today is the latter. Your day didn't start well and it just kept getting worse. Yeah, so you are now just frowning at your papers, willing them to go away in your mind.

"I'm going to ask her for one," Derek says bravely, Emily eyes widen and she laughs, "good one, Derek."

"What? I'm being serious..."

"Right, well I want to see that," she dares him, she literally saw you curse the hell out of the coffee maker, so she bet, that it won't go well," grap one for me too, then."

"Watch me," Derek gets up, but before he even takes one step, Spencer appears next to them

"Why are you guys staring at y/n?" Spencer asks, looking confused at them.

"Better question is where were you?" Derek eyes the coffee in his hands.

"Ah you know, around" he says quickly, sipping on the brown liquid, that is clearly not from the office.

"But why are you staring at her?" he raises his eyebrows at them.

"She isn't in a very good mood today and her cookies look tasty" Emily answers.

"Oh, really?" Spencer asks, eyes softening immediately at the mention of you, as always.

Emily and Derek exchange a knowing look. It's clear to them and everybody else, that Spencer likes you and that you like Spencer, too. Well almost everybody, you two are as oblivious as one can be.

"What's up with that look?" Spencer frowns at them, when he sees their weird faces.

"Oh come on, like you don't know" Emily scoffs, Spencer just frowns more, not knowing what she is talking about, " you couldn't be more obvious about y/n," she chuckles and Derek laughs, too.

"Yeah, pretty boy. And it's obvious, she likes you, too. " You always become such a uncharacteristic rambling mess, that even a blind person could see, that you like Spencer.

"She doesn't," Spencer quickly shuts Derek down. There is just no way, that you like him back, no way.

"She really does. She likes you so much, that I bet she'd give you one of her cookies right now. " You don't like to share, it's not that you are selfish, not at all, but you never ever share your food with anybody, no matter what.

"Not funny, guys" Spencers says, he's been teased about hs love life enough by Derek, but including you in the teasing just stings.

"But it's true! She's always all shy and blushy around you" Derek defends," if you don't believe us, you should see for yourself. Go ask her for the cookie."

"What?"

"Just go ask her and you'll see we are telling you the truth," Emily adds, Spencer looks uncertainly at her. He doesn't want to make a fool out of himself, especiallynot in front of you.

But before he can object, Emily pushes him in your direction. So he goes.

You don't notice him approaching at first, but when you do, your cheeks, that are full of cookies heat up.

"Hi" he greets you, you clumsily wave at him and the cookie you have in your hand falls on the floor.

"H-hi Spencer" you shyly greet him, cheeks even redder as you pick the cookie up from the ground.

"How are you doing? Are you bored, too?" Spencer chuckles.

"So bored, the paperwork is so boring," you sigh,your eyes are basically burning holes into the paper. Spencer chuckles at your exasperation and you go all blushy again.

Spencer only now notices, how much your cheeks go red and how shyly you smile around him.

He thought, you are like that with everyone, but now he realises you aren't. He's never seen you blush at anything, that the other team members had said, ever. He thinks about that one time, when Emily complimented you on your new hair and you just said 'I know' and walked away.

"I'm bored, too. Also a little hungry" Spencer's stomach growls to support the statement.

"D-do you want some cookies?" you immediately offer him some with a soft smile. Spencer thinks he might die.

Emily and Derek were right. Or maybe he is just thinking too much into this little gesture. Or maybe you do in fact like him.

"You are offering me your cookies?" he asks, bewildered.

"Umm yes? Shouldn't i be?" you puzzle.

"It's just that you never share your food" Spencer explains and your eyes go wide, the blush at this point isn't leaving your cheeks .

"No that it's bad or anything. I totally understand, I don't really like sharing food either" he adds, so you know, he isn't judging you.

"Well yeah, but I w-want to share with you now, so do you want some?" you sheepishly ask again, averting your eyes from him.

"No." Your eyes widen after his answer.

"O-oh , okay, " you look almost heart broken, after he says it. So Spencer quickly adds.

"No, because I think we should get some proper meal," he smiles at you.

"We?"

"Yeah, we. Do you want to grab something? I know this great place not far from here."

"Really?" You question, hopeful small smile on your face.

"Yes, really."

"Okay, I'd like that."

As Spencer patiently waits for you to get your thing, he looks over his shoulder and sees Emily and Derek with the biggest grins on their faces.

"Assholes" he says under his breath.

"What?" You think, he said something.

"Oh nothing. Ready to go?" You nod almost giddily and start to walk to the door. Spencer has a big grin on his face, too as he walks next to you. Maybe, he will thank Derek and Emily for being too hungry for your cookies later.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n

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harmonysanreads · 2 months

Text

Happy Birthday...!

feat. vampire!alhaitham

cw(s) : two dorks being too adorable, smitten alhaitham

wc : 1.4k

Every so often, Alhaitham could be found in profound contemplation in the study of his imposing mansion. Books strewn about, some half open and some in piles beside his chair and utop his desk—though the material of his perusal remains hard to deduce.

An amateur mistake would entail that Alhaitham wasn't in deep thought at all, but in a slumber and that could be credible, if you were to disregard his species' characteristics altogether. Though Alhaitham assumes a relaxed position, his senses are never in the same state of inertia. His ears pick up on tip-toeing footsteps, the vibrations registering as familiar in his sharp mind. These playful tricks could fool any ordinary human, not a vampire capable of catching the pressure applied in those pattering sounds.

He knows it's you, can predict you have a surprise in your hands and can envision the playful smile that must undoubtedly be stretching across your lips. But he does not move an inch, does not give any indication that he's aware. Alhaitham is not known for frivolity and neither would he be inclined to encourage such behavior if this was anyone else. Perhaps every action of an intellectual appears to bear some motive to the audience, or simply the intention is interpreted.

Nevertheless, Alhaitham continues to act his part, giving all the reactions you expect. Appearing to be startled when your arms wrap around his neck but before he has the chance to respond, you swivel in front of him after pressing a chaste kiss under his jaw. Turquoise eyes widen, for that he didn't see coming. He can only thank that blood never rushes to coat his skin pink as you stand in all your giddiness before him and dear vampire lords, are you the brightest.

“Happy birthday!”

The vampire blinks, vacillating between your expectant expression and at the ‘gift’ you eagerly present to him.

Ah, so that's the occasion. Alhaitham has always thought that humans were a bit too passionate about celebrating the day they were born. Such customs are not performed among his kin, for a vampire's ‘birthday’ is just a bitter reminder of their eternal damnation. But, you don't know that. Tied to your mortal sentimentalities and well wishes ; he knows of your sole and innocent wish to make him happy.

So, he carefully takes the wrapped object in one hand and grasps your outstretched palm in the other, gently guiding you to his lap. His unbeating heart swells when you follow him without the slightest hesitation.

“Thank you, what is the gift?”

“No no, you aren't supposed to ask me that, Haitham! You have to open it yourself.”

You chide him with a raised finger and one of his brows quirks up. He's still not yet accustomed to every nuance of human behavior but, for you, he continues learning.

“Apologies, let me correct myself then.”

Alhaitham undoes the ribbon and wrapping paper, putting them aside to feel the coolness of the ceramic mug on his hand. Orange pupils squint to capture the details, turquoise painting and the words ‘best vampire’ boldly printed in black in the mug's body.

“Do you like it?” your hopeful tone snaps him out of his inspection. If this had been even fifty years ago, he wouldn't have stopped a confused frown from showing. Or, if the object had been handed by someone else, he wouldn't have considered it anything less than a joke.

“I...yes, I do like it. I wasn't aware that I was the ‘best vampire’ in your eyes. But then again, have you met other ones?” Alhaitham asks smoothly, feigning indifference to the sardonic prospect that you might have.

“Not at all! But you know the stories of vampires everyone tells, they're usually so scary, mean and selfish. You're none of those, you're intelligent, calm and have the softest heart—which is why, you're the best.”

Alhaitham appraises your confident answer with a humorful look, surely you must not think he's like this with everyone else? But, he doesn't correct you at all, feeling almost inebriated by your heartfelt words. It's also a bonus that his ego swells, he's still like any other man in some aspects.

“You know, I actually wanted to add a mosquito and bat sticker to the mug.”

That yanks Alhaitham out of his bliss.

“A.. mosquito?”

“Yes..? Aren't you essentially an overgrown mosquito? You know, both of you rely on blood to survive?” you question innocuously, shifting in his lap nonchalantly.

Alhaitham's jaw slackens, not knowing whether to be offended or amused. If this was inquired of any other vampire, you would not be able to get a second sentence out. But, he identifies this as a lack of knowledge and decides informing you would be best.

“That is a grave misconception. Because only female mosquitoes drink blood, during the time they bear eggs, more precisely.”

Your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape in understanding, quickly morphing to a sheepish expression. “I’m really sorry…”

Alhaitham waves it off, pausing when he remembers something, “You also mentioned a bat sticker, why?”

This time you look up at him in barely restrained excitement, “I've wanted to ask this for the longest time! You can transform into a bat, right?”

“No, I can't.” your shoulders slump slightly.

“Then.. will you turn to ash if you come into contact with sunlight?”

“While prolonged exposure to sunlight can kill a vampire, we've evolved to be able to withstand marginal exposition. It's not as deadly as the movies portray it.” your expression falls but he notices some semblances of relief. Huh, were you worried for him?

You try again, “W-well, will you die if you eat garlic?”

“Garlic makes me allergic. Its scent is pungent and irritating. Not much different than human allergies.”

This time, Alhaitham doesn't bother masking his amusement at your pout, “Was everything I've known about vampires a lie?”

One of the first traits Alhaitham had noticed about you was your curious nature and eagerness to learn new things. You'd always be on the lookout for an opportunity to ask him questions regarding his vampire roots in particular, preferably when you deemed he was in a good mood. Most of the time though, you opted to make your own observations. It seemed both of you were the most interesting creature on Teyvat in each other's eyes.

The vampire puts the ceramic mug aside on the table, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours. He tilts up your downcast face with a finger beneath your chin, “It's not your fault that human media portray vampires in that particular light and weave these stereotypes. You know only what you've been shown.”

Ashen locks tickle your skin, “You’re not mad at me..?”

“Not at all.” how could he ever be upset with you?

Alhaitham sighs in relief when your smile returns in full force, turquoise eyes slowly shift to your neck, the pulse there beating with the essence of your psyche. A frown marrs his impeccable features as a thought passes by his mind. Humans cherish every year of their lifespan due to the limitation of it. They're fragile, susceptible to the whims of time. But instead of lamenting their inevitable end, they choose to celebrate and foster the memories acquired within their short lives. He's not subjected to the same laws, the shadow of death will not fall upon him as a result of old age.

He'd pondered about this mortality but never worried about those subjected to it. However, as he feels the warmth of your body envelop his cold one and cradles this vessel of the purest soul he's encountered — he can't stop a bolt of paranoia from racing down his spine. What would he do if he could never hold you again like this?

His thoughts are interrupted when he feels your arms around his shoulders again, your warmth presses against him. For a moment, Alhaitham stays still and stunned, all his senses focusing on your proximity, your scent and the beating of your heart. You don't say anything more, letting all your reassurance seep through that sweet embrace. A canopy of serenity drapes over the vampire and he returns your hug to imbibe these feelings deep in his soul.

His hand brushes along your back a few times before coming to a halt, “[ Name ],”

“Yes?” your hum tickles the skin of his shoulder.

“Are you wearing my shirt?”

A beat of silence passes, Alhaitham was so caught up in the flurry of events that he completely missed the white shirt hanging loosely on your figure. Albeit, he's anything but irritated at this revelation, you could take his entire wardrobe and he'd thank you.

“Teehee~”

Alhaitham places a reverent kiss on your pulse, smiling as your mischievous giggle reaches his ear.

Just for this moment, he supposes he can forget the rules and restrictions of this wretched world and indulge in your presence.

[more vampire!alhaitham content]

#whenever i write for him it feels like my fingers are automatically moving #the grip he has on me is embarrassing whew #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #alhaitham x you #al haitham x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #alhaitham #al haitham #vampire alhaitham #vampire al haitham #vampire alhaitham x reader #vampire al haitham x reader #genshin fluff #happy birthday alhaitham 2024 #genshin impact #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham brainrot

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luveline · 1 year

Text

your first 'I love you' with Hotch ♥︎ fem!reader 1k

“You’re tense.”

Hotch doesn’t look up from his desk. He’s reading through a consult, two fingers pressed to his brow. He reminds you of a movie star when he poses like this. You like it, and you doubly enjoy the stirring feeling it prompts in your stomach.

“I’m not tense,” he says, gently and quietly, “just thinking.”

He’s thinking and tense at the same time, then. The big wooden desk in front of him is open real estate for you to climb on top of, propping yourself with legs dangling to his right. He ever so kindly drops his hand on your knee.

You slouch because Hotch doesn’t care about posture. At least, it doesn’t make him like you any less. Occasionally, he’ll press a hand to your lower back and try to straighten you out. But mostly he makes a comment on how your back will hurt worse than his by the time you’re forty and kiss your temple. You take his wrist into two hands and rub at the line where his tendon hides beneath the skin.

“So… are you going home today?” you ask.

“I…” He pulls his head up to yours, hand tracing your thigh surreptitiously slow. “Am going wherever you’re going.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Hotch pats your leg.

You can feel the heat of his palm through your trousers. It doesn't take much more than that to have you droopy eyed as you wait for him to finish his work, his warm touch, the quiet of his office and the subtle scratch of his pen against paper.

He puts everything away into its proper place. He helps you down off of the desk, and he puts his coat on overtop of his suit. Briefcase in hand, Hotch accompanies you down to your desk in one of the far corners of the BAU's offices where you put your own coat on. He beckons you forward to fasten the top button, which you'd missed.

In the elevator, you turn your face to your shoulder and watch him watch the floor number change. He's smiling by the time you get to the bottom floor. Out past the metal detectors and security checkpoint and the huge glass doors, you stroll into the cool night time air and, barely a foot from the entrance, feel Hotch's hand looking for yours.

"What do you want to do tonight?" he asks finally.

"I really get to choose?"

"You should get to choose more often."

Hotch is admittedly much busier than you are. His work is more intrusive, or should you say, expansive, than your own, and he has Jack to prioritise, his family. But that doesn't mean you don't get to choose. You chose his tie this morning via the phone, and what you both ate for dinner — huge too-messy sandwiches over a casefile.

"I'm hungry if you are."

"And if I'm not, you'll magically feel full?" he asks.

He gives your hands a little swing. You could kiss him right here on the sidewalk.

"I'm, like– I could eat, but if you don't wanna stop for something I won't go hungry."

"No, you'll just fill up on oatmeal."

"Oatmeal is a great night time snack," you say. "Especially with the slow-releasing melatonin Dr. Reid was telling me about."

"Are you distracting my colleagues?" he asks knowingly, looking both ways before he pulls you across the street and into the bureau's employee parking lot.

"No. Well, sometimes."

He unlocks his car with the beep of a hob and opens the passenger seat for you. "We can get something to go? We don't have to be out all night."

You climb in, beaming as he kisses your cheek and closes the door behind you.

He drives you down to the Thai restaurant a half a mile away. You call before you get there, so the food's ready waiting for you to pick up. He's in and out, and he says, "Put something down on your lap, honey, it's hot," before he passes it to you.

You smile like a lovesick fool when he hums along to the radio, hand tapping the wheel as he turns into the street of your apartment. You hadn't realised he chose your place.

The music suits him. You aren't sure how it happens. A happy love song in time with your small moment of bliss. You reach across the console and put your hand on his face. He turns into it, softly questioning.

You rub your thumb into the scratching of his five o'clock shadow.

"You're my favourite. I love you," you say. You try to be serious about it but your lips twitch.

Your first 'I love you' maybe should've been saved somewhere safe until the right moment. You've been keeping it wedged between your heart and your ribs, though, and it's too much tonight. The sweet voice of the love song's singer saturates the air with a certain saccharineness, his handsome, beautiful smile, frown lines and won't be ignored.

"I love you, too."

From Hotch, it feels like a promise. You lift your chin and he gives you a light kiss. He keeps smiling and breaking the kiss.

"I wish you would've waited," he says.

You're too happy to feel insecure about it. "What for?"

He reaches for your shoulders, squeezing you and pushing you away to meet your eyes. "Because I had this whole speech planned, you know? I was going to tell you first."

"A speech?"

He looks incredibly happy: he's onto you. He knows you're fishing for the speech and all the pretty compliments he might've doled out.

"If you'd waited," he concedes, "I might have told you how lucky I feel to get to be with you. How I know a second chance when I have it. A second chance at love, and… feeling young. Feeling brand new."

Your smile melds into a smirk. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. And I might've said something about how beautiful you are, and how funny, and how interesting, but you got there first and now you'll never know the depths of my affection after all."

"That's too bad."

He leans in for another kiss. "Yes," he says against your lips. "Too bad."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction

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sudzymactavish · 22 days

Note

Can I ask a another request? I had so much ideas in my mind ya.

poly!tf141 x male reader, who is higher rank than them maybe is a major, he has a cold personality with others, but not with his team one day the task force sees the male reader flirting with a another man when the task force decide to "punish" the reader ya?

smut please and sir kink

YES. birdy, thank you for this ‼️ I'll be tweaking it a tiny bit but HERE WE GO

Yes, Sir.

TW: sex, bodily fluids, graphic descriptions of that sex, a little bit of angst, flirting, punishing (sexual), sir kink, SMUT!!!

You were a major overseeing the task force 141. What a bunch of idiots. They were always getting hurt, especially soap when he didn't wear his helmet on that one mission. You really let him have it that one time. Thank goodness Ghost and Price were more serious than Soap and Gaz, or else you would probably go insane.

But, it didn't mean you didn't have a soft spot for them. I mean, you can't help how charismatic they are. How Ghost gives you an assuring nod when you're indecisive. Price calling you darling with his smooth voice, Gaz's hand slightly grazes your hips while he walks past. How soap looks into your eyes with that loving stare—it's too much for you. You love them too much.

So, you flirted with another man. This one.. let's just say was not like the 141. He was boring. He smelled like nothing while you could bury yourself into your boy's necks for hours.

Maybe it's for the better. The 141 should be focusing on missions, not you. You're above them after all, they should be calling you sir instead of [your name]. Much less [your nickname].

It did hurt you with the thought of them not loving you anymore. You'll miss their affection. But.. it's what is best. After excusing yourself, you just went to your office.

You hadn't noticed you fell asleep in your chair. As you awoke, the 4 men stood behind your desk.

"Ah- 141. Why are you here?" You tried to act natural, as if you weren't sleeping just seconds ago. We saw ye flirtin with that man. Soap spoke, clearly jealous. Actually, all the men looked some form of jealous. Gaz spoke up next. Yea. What's up with tha'? Ghost and Price scowled along with the other two.

"I don't understand the problem." You coldly replied. 'They shouldn't be fooling around with their superior. It was such a mistake to even get romantically involved with these people-'

Your thoughts were interrupted by a hug. Ghost had wrapped his arms around your smaller body. He didn't speak. He just.. held you. You couldn't help as your body melted under him. "...I'm sorry boys. It's just that I'm your superior and I didn't want to distract you. It's unfair, I'm a distraction." You hung your head low. The 3 others came and wrapped their arms around you.

It was quiet for some time in the office. It was nice. It wasn't a sad or awkward silence, just tranquility with your boys.

The following days were nicer. More calm. Soap and Gaz toned down their craziness a tad while Ghost brought you a cuppa occasionally. Some days, Price would take some of your papers and do them for you, taking some stress off your already overloaded brain.

You could sense they were a little bit upset still from when you flirted with that man. Soap and Gaz glared at him, Ghost was always somehow with you 24/7, and you even caught Price telling the man not to go anywhere near you. You had to find a way to calm their nerves...

This was so wrong. It was wrong for you to buy that stupid little lingerie set. 'Are you daft??' You screamed at your brain, but your body didn't stop putting the lace on you. After you were done, you looked into the mirror. You didn't look too bad, actually. You admired yourself, so much that you didn't notice all 4 boys come in.

You were so embarrassed. You didn't lock the door when you knew you'd be undressing!? Those poor boys!

You covered yourself and started spewing all sorts of apologies and excuses, until a finger covered your lips.

Shh, hush love. We all know why you bought those. Planning to seduce us, hmm?

Such a bad boy. What should we do?

I've go' a few ideas.

We should punish 'im.

I like your thoughts, Kyle.

The men came closer, as you felt your embarrassment fade away and arousal taking its place.

Just seconds later, you were on the floor.

I'm not sure boys. Should we fuck 'im with it on or tear it off him?

And waste this pretty view!? Captain, we can't do tha'!

The other two boys nodded, siding with Soap. Thank goodness, you spent so much money on this.

Sir, may I go in this hole? Gaz spoke, opening your legs and pushing aside the lace and caressing your rim. Fuck. You felt yourself harden at that word.

Wait just a minute! I wanna fuck 'im there! Soap protested, pushing Gaz aside.

Well then. What do you want, lovie?

You swallowed. "Well.. who says you both can't go at the same time?" You smiled.

Now, Gaz and Soap were holding your legs open and going down on you like a pair of dogs. Wolves, even. Your dick was painfully hard, tears of pleasure and pain pricking the sides of your eyes.

You looked up to Ghost, your pleading eyes telling him everything. You poor thing. Ghost spoke, his hand drifting down to your neglected dick and stroking it. You humped his hand, arching your back, praying for a release.

"Please, please Ghost make me cum." You begged.

Yes, sir.

Your release found you, coating Ghost's hand in a sticky substance.

I guess we've found sir's kink. Soap chuckled, fist bumping Gaz. Your dick hardened again, earning a pathetic whimper from you. Want us to keep goin' sir? You nodded hastily.

You felt Price's dick touch your fingertips, and you accepted by dragging your hand up and down it. Ghost sped up on your own dick, making you release more than you could even count at the time, as your mind was clouded with ecstasy.

Hours later, your body was filled with cum. It was satisfying to be so full.. especially by the men you loved. They took care of your tired body, cleaning you up and canceling your meetings for the day. They just let you rest. Of course, until Soap slipped up and called you sir. Your dick hardened again.. and who were the boys than to refuse seconds?

#cod modern warfare #kyle gaz garrick #john mactavish #gay #simon ghost riley #john price #cod #john soap mactavish #tf 141 #sudzysasks #tf 141 x reader #task force 141 #141 x reader #cod 141 #mw2 141 #poly 141 #poly 141 x reader

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

Note

OH MY GOD YESS—

Just imagine college!reader tiredly trying to get through their day while literally everyone on campus flirts with them — the janitor, the lunch lady, their teacher colleagues AND the students.

(I imagine professor reader is a little on the nicer side, but they are in fact tired of everyone)

That smile. That damned smile.

Obtaining a job as such a prestigious school, you only wanted to make a good impression on your peers and future students. To build a stable work environment and ensure pleasant memories to look back on. A firm handshake for your colleagues, a promise of a shoulder to lean on for your students - all wrapped together with a faint, but sincere smile.

What a fool you were.

"Hey, Teach? You mind if I stay with you this period to go over today's lesson? I had some trouble."

You drum your pen against your desk, swallowing the sigh that rises in your chest. "Toby, you know you don't have to lie to get my attention, dont you?"

You flash a quizzical look, lips edged on that smile everyone had come to love over the audacity of the situation. The student looks away with a sheepish grin. Straight A, honor roll student with a full ride through college on top of what their parents had already saved. To many, it was a mystery why their scores suddenly plummeted after switching schools. There were a few possibilities for the sudden decline. The building stress, peer pressure, or the relatively unknown fact of them using the time to discuss their grades to bump shoulders with their favorite teacher.

You pull out your schedule book, their eyes darken seeing all the names already penned down. "I have an opening on Friday at 4. Its a bit later in the day, but if it works for you-"

"Yes!"

Why did you even ask?

A knock on the doorframe catches your ear. The teacher snaps their fingers at Toby, pointing over their shoulder.

"You. Leave. Lunch began seven minutes ago."

Toby clicks their tongue, but obediently leaves the room; shooting a glare at the authoritative figure as their paths cross. With them out of the way, your colleague saunters up to your desk. You move the stack of papers out of the way before they take a seat.

"Afternoon, Y/n." They begin, rolling your name off their tongue like thick honey. "Hope you don't mind me using your first name. I like to imagine we're... close enough for that at the very least."

"It doesn't bother me."

Satisfied with your answer, their hand smooths across the desk to your outstretched arm. "I'm glad to hear that. I was just heading out for lunch and was wondering if you'd like to join me. We can pick something up from a restaurant, but my place is right around the corner if you'd like something homemade and you wouldn't mind the leftovers."

"I'm fairly certain the last time I joined you, you tried to keep me in your bathroom under the guise that the lock was broken. Besides, if I don't get lunch from the cafeteria, Ms. Thompson may leave her station to find me and I don't think any of us want that."

The sourness in your colleague's mood is almost enough to make you cringe, but you offer them a compromise to keep the peace.

"I'll let you join me to the cafeteria, and drive me home - on the condition I send your license plate to a friend."

"Deal."

You set aside the papers and place your belongings in your drawer as you prepare to leave, making sure everything goes underneath the false bottom you installed in case the janitor breaks the lock again when they come to clean. The second you exit the room, your colleague's hands are wrapped tightly around your arm. You ignore the yearning glares as you head off to the cafeteria.

#Professor reader #yandere oc #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere harem #yandere teacher #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x y/n

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heartsoji · 1 year

Note

Hello. If Requests Are Open I Have One. Tsukishima, Suna And Kenma With A Reader Who Is Kinda On The Thicker Side (Thick, Not Chubby) So She Gets Sexualized And Catcalled A Lot

HQ BOYS WITH A CURVY S/O

a/n: yes! thank u sm for submitting a request ☺︎

warnings: swearing, guys (not the hq guys) way overstepping and making reader feel uncomfortable, fem reader

tsukishima, suna, and kenma x reader

TSUKISHIMA KEI

when something happens to you, he shows his protection subtly, but he really really cares about you

would attack the weirdos and people jealous of your body

he wouldn't be the "don't worry babe, i can fight" kind of attacking guy, but the "beat them up mentally until their spirit is broken" kind of attacking guy

you were doing your work diligently at your desk when suddenly, one of your male classmates stopped at your desk.

"goddamn, girl. being serious is great and all, but would it kill you to show a pained expression every now and then?" he rested his hand on your desk, covering part of your paper.

"pardon?" you asked, not quite comprehending.

"i mean," he smirked, "can't imagine what you'd be like under me if you're so serious all the time. have you ever even felt pain?" he paused. "i can show you great pain and pleasure, babe. just gotta say the word."

you froze, speechless. how were you supposed to respond to that? whilst you were trying to come up with a response, you saw kei getting up out of the corner of your eye.

"well, cutie?" your classmate grinned widely before sliding a finger down your back, making you cringe in disgust silently. "how about it?"

"i-"

"don't you have anything better to do?"

"huh?" the guy turned around to see kei towering over him, a nasty glare in his eyes.

"i said, 'don't you have anything better to do?' are you deaf, or just stupid?" kei asked, an annoyed expression present on his features.

"what the hell are you talking about? you're just a cocky brat, aren't ya?" the guy snarled. "man, i hate people like you. so much confidence with nothing to show for it."

kei paused. "i apologize. i was unaware that you hated yourself that much. things will get better, i promise." he mocked, patting the guys back, causing an angry vein to bulge out of the guy's forehead.

"haha, very funny." the guy muttered. "bitchy beanpole brat."

"alliteration! very good!" kei applauded with a smile before sending him a death glare that could freeze lava. "but seriously, are you such a loser that your ego won't allow a hit?" he then leaned into his ear. "she. isn't. interested. scram. you're just making a fool of yourself at this point."

the guy looked around and noticed everyone staring and whispering, clearly judging him for his creepy ways. he angrily stormed out of the classroom, with kei calling out a, "nice talk! let's do it again sometime," on his way out.

once the guy was fully out of the classroom, kei grabbed a chair and put it next to yours at your desk, plopping down his work as well.

"thanks, kei." you whispered a bit shakily.

he simply gave your hand a reassuring squeeze in response. "let me know if that loser gives you anymore trouble, ok?" he whispered back. "i'll beat him to a pulp." he followed up, a terrifyingly murderous intent in his eyes.

he then gave a smile, though it was still terrifyingly murderous-looking. "verbally, i mean."

SUNA RINTARO

another guy with a tongue that could slice boulders

hes not quite as mean tho, instead choosing to go with the more "protect my girl" stance rather than tsukkis "belittle them and make them feel like tiny little idiots who have no worth" stance

he'd try to embarrass the hell out of them

he's good at manipulating people, after all. he finds their weaknesses in an instant and uses it to his ultimate advantage

and also

he loves your curves

much

he'd definitely come over and like place his hand on your hip or ass or smth to mark his territory

bro hes the only one who gets to say how much he likes your ass?? um who tf is this other dude

he'd probs also try and cause a scene or incorporate humor to make you feel better

you were scared

a guy from the inarizaki cheering section had been staring at you ever since you entered

though you weren't absolutely positive, you felt like you could feel his eyes scanning your curves, and it made you feel like curling away in disgust

you'd lessened your cheering ever since you realized that the screaming made your tits bounce, and his eyes were practically burning a hole through them

once the game was over, you quickly dashed off from the stands to meet rin at the bottom, but the same guy met you down there

"so, hey, i was just thinking that you're like, really hot and have a great body, you know? and not to brag but i kinda have girls drooling on my abs left and right. if we got together, we'd be the ultimate power couple! whaddaya say, doll, hm?"

you scanned the room, looking for rin, but unfortunately, the coach was giving a talk, so rin wouldn't be able to come right away

"um, thank you for your offer, but i have a boyfriend." you politely declined.

he put his hand on your shoulder, and you could feel his thumb searching for your bra strap. you leaned away uncomfortably, but he gripped your shoulder and pulled you back.

"hey, now, its ok. don't think that i didn't see the way you were showing off these pretty assets of yours to me on the stands. you were practically shaking the things in my face! i can take a hint, you know. don't worry. i understand women. you were hinting at wanting to get with me, right? i get it! promise i won't be mad if we start dating the minute you break up with whatever loser you're with right now, doll. i don't need to wait."

"i-"

"hey, bun."

you whipped around to see suna rintaro not-so-gently shoving the guy off your shoulder and wrapping his arm around you, placing his hand right at the curve of your hip, giving you butterflies.

he directed his attention to the guy hitting on you. "'sup."

the guy stuttered for a few moments before regaining his cockiness. "this your girl? sorry, man, but she was actually just hitting on me. she aint loyal enough, i guess."

"the hell?! no i wasn-"

"she definitely wasn't." rin interrupted. "she'd never be into a piece of garbage like you."

a vein popped out of the guy's forehead. he grabbed the collar of rin's shirt.

"say that again."

rin opened his mouth, and for a moment, you thought that rin was going to retaliate, but instead, a piercing shriek ran through the air.

a baby's wail? a crying girl? a dropped mic? no, it was 6"1 inarizaki high middle blocker suna rintaro.

every head in the area turned, and suddenly, at the negative attention, the guy ran off in humiliation, calling out some insult towards you like "you weren't even that hot, by the way" on his way out.

once he was gone, suna picked you up and ran to somewhere with a bit more privacy

once he had found a spot he had deemed private enough, he engulfed you in the biggest, tightest hug, burying his head in your neck

"'m sorry that happened, bun." he murmured into your neck. "and 'm sorry that i interrupted you earlier, and i'm sorry that i wasn't there sooner, and im sorry that i didn't punch that guy in his pathetic, ugly-ass face."

you hugged him back. "it's ok, rin." you squeezed tighter. "i'm just glad you came."

"anyways, at any rate, he had no right to look in your direction, nonetheless insult you!" you felt his fists tighten. "pisses me off."

"and also," he added before moving his hand downwards to squeeze your ass, "i'm the only one allowed to call your body hot. everyone else can just fuck off"

you giggled and sighed into his locks. "ok, rin."

KOZUME KENMA

he wouldn't be one for words

he'd just glare daggers into the other guys body and then drag you away

he liked to call it a tactical retreat

"hey, what grade are you in?"

you looked up from your phone to see a group of what seemed to be some middle school boys circling around you, with what seemed to be their leader approaching you.

"pardon?" you were a bit taken aback. what was even going on?

"shy. cute, i'm into that." the boy smirked. "class 3-2, izumitate junior high soccer team captain, sato emiko."

you froze. junior high? you were being hit on by junior high boys?

you really tried not to, but suddenly, you burst out laughing. "sorry, sorry, but, well, junior high? i'm a 2nd year in highschool!"

you expected him to back down after that, but to your surprise, he kept going. "an older girl, huh.. well, it doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you. and if im being honest, i don't see why it would." he grinned cockily. "i am a catch, after all."

"sorry, i'm not interested." you declined, trying not to break his junior high heart.

to your surprise, he smirked and started approaching you. how cocky was this kid, anyways?

suddenly, he grabbed a handful of your thigh, though he was quickly met with a slap from you.

"come on," he said, walking towards you. "i know you want me."

but before he could reach for a handful of tit, he was interrupted by kenma shoving his way through the crowd.

he gently took your hand and smiled softly at you before glaring daggers at the boy and walking away.

"h-hey!" the boy stuttered, clearly a bit flustered. "you can't just walk away! who do you think you are?"

kenma turned his head to give another death glare that definitely sent chills down that kid's spine. yeah, the boy would definitely see that in his next nightmare.

once you two were out of earshot, kenma turned to you. "hey, you ok?"

you smiled warmly. "yeah. thanks for getting me, ken."

he turned away. "they were just a bunch of cocky middle schoolers. honestly, where do they get the nerve?"

the rest of the way home, kenma added in abrupt complaints about what had happened throughout the conversation. though he didn't say it, you knew that he was actually kind of scared to grab you out of there, despite the fact that the boys were "puny" and "weak," as kenma had described. you knew that though he wouldn't say, he was worried about you and was caring for you, in his own, unique, kenma way.

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