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reiding-writing · 3 months

Note

Hey Red! I really enjoyed all of your writings especially because I am also a sucker for angst and hurt/comfort fic. Anyway, can I request fic about post-prison Spencer x reader (romantic) where the reader is the one who distanced herself from Spencer because after the first time Spencer released from prison, he doesn't want to touch anyone? Bet he'll be so heartbroken and thinking that she's over their relationship. Thank you! Sorry if it's too specific ❤️

distance [ s.r ]

Spencer makes a show of physically distancing himself from his teammates after he returns from prison, and in trying to abide by that boundary you accidentally misread his intentions

WARNINGS: miscommunication, established relationship

pairing: post-prison!spencer x gn!reader

genre: ANGST, hurt/comfort, happy ending

wc: 1.6k

masterlist!!

a/n: gave this one a happy ending as an apology for transgression-

You waited for 84 days to see him again; And yet now he’s stood here in front of you you can’t even bring yourself to speak to him.

He’s thinner than you remember. His cheekbones show more prominently. He has stubble lining his chin. His hair is more unruly. His eyes don’t shine anymore.

Spencer changed in those 84 days, and the second you caught his eyes a hairline fracture formed in your heart.

Gone was the Spencer who would light up at the most insignificant thing. Gone was the Spencer who would look at you with those sweet innocent eyes that would make you weak at the knees. Gone was the Spencer who would link his pinky finger in yours so that he could anchor himself to you no matter where you were.

Gone was the Spencer you knew.

Your Spencer didn’t exist anymore.

You watched as he swerved a hug from Morgan as he entered the office, clasping both of his hands behind his back with an awkward smile as he walked through the bullpen towards you were standing in front of his desk, eerily resembling the 23 year old Spencer who avoided everyone like they had the plague.

“Hey Spence…” Your voice is a lot more breathless than you thought it’d be, only amplified as you look into those gorgeous hazel eyes that you’d dreamed about being able to look into again for the past three months. “..How are you?”

It’s a completely unnecessary question Spencer thinks, it makes it sound like you’re just his co-worker and not the love of his life.

“I’m alright…” His eyebrows twitch when you take a few steps away from his desk as he nears you, like you can’t bear to be too close.

Then again, he probably looks like hell, so he can’t entirely blame you.

But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

“That’s good,” You press your lips into a line, nodding softly with your eyes flickering everywhere except his face. He’d been gone for 84 days, but you were treating him like you’d never met.

“I’m gonna go make some coffee-” You point lamely towards the kitchenette with your thumb, sliding past him to walk towards it as he watched you leave, eyes burning into the back of your head.

It was a weird feeling to say the least. You were ecstatic that he was home, that you could finally see his beautiful face again and know that he wasn’t suffering in a prison cell. But you weren’t sure how to express that. Whether you should express that.

You fumble with the coffee machine as you lose yourself in your thoughts. Everything about Spencer’s body language when he entered the office told you he wanted space, and you wanted to respect that.

You understood that he’d definitely been through a lot over the past few months and that he wanted time to collect himself before he let anybody else back in; But the way he looked at you when you moved away from him made you unsure. Did he want to be left alone? Did he actually want you to suffocate him with a hug like you were originally planning on doing?

You weren’t sure. And that was the worst part, because depending on which option you chose you could unintentionally swerve things into being worse than they already were.

You chose the safe option. Let him come to you. Leave him be and allow him to choose what he wanted.

He didn’t approach you for a few days, and you figured that meant your decision was correct, that he truly did just want some space to gain his bearings again and allow himself the downtime to focus on himself before anyone else.

You were wrong.

“Why are you avoiding me?” Spencer caught you right as you left the office, stood in the middle of the hallway leading to the elevator with an exhausted expression on your face after working for almost 10 straight hours.

You do nothing more than blink in his direction at his question, exhaustion morphing into confusion once your eyes catch him expression.

You could see his own tiredness echoed through the bags forming under his eyes and the way his shoulders slumped at his sides, but you could also see a flicker of hurt floating around in his gaze, seemingly amplified under the white florescents as if to torture you.

“I’m- not avoiding you Spencer,”

“Yes you are.” His tone is rigid, a stark difference from the soft and whispered tone you’d grown used to with him. It felt like having a bucket of ice water poured over your head, and as if to physically acknowledge that feeling, a shudder ran its way up your spine and into the base of your skull. “Every time I’m within ten feet of you, you make an excuse to leave.”

You can’t really argue with him there. You had been keeping your distance. But only because you thought that’s what Spencer wanted.

“Do you not love me anymore? Is that it? Am I too broken for you now?”

“What- No-” Your confusion turns into shock at his accusations, and you immediately shake your head in denial.

“Then why are you treating me like a stranger you’ve never met?” His tone borders between angry and upset, and you can see the start of tears forming in his eyes as he stares at you like you’d just ripped up a first-edition copy of his favourite book.

“I waited for the day i’d finally be able to see you again and now you’re acting like I never existed in your mind at all.” You can hear the strain in his voice as he tries to stop it from cracking under his emotions.

“Spence-”

“Have you moved on? You found someone better for you right?”

“Spencer-”

“I hope he makes you happy-”

He barely has time to get out the last sentence as you give a sharp tug on his tie and pull his face down to yours, effectively silencing all of his insecurities with a kiss. It’s soft but firm, and slightly salty. He must’ve started crying.

“I love you Spencer.” Your words hold no room for debate as your lips part from his, connection maintained through the way your foreheads press together.

“But you- Why did you- I thought…” His mind seems to run a thousand miles a minute as he stares at you, finally close enough to see the details of your face that nobody else had the privilege to know. “I thought you didn’t love me anymore…”

“Spence…” You shake your head as it rests against his, a firm denial of his doubt in your complete and utter adoration of him.

“But you kept moving away from me whenever i’d try to come over to you,” He speaks through stuttered breaths, his eyes squeezed shut to hopefully stop the tears that assault his cheeks, running hot down his skin and pooling underneath the curve of his chin.

“I just thought you wanted space baby,” Your thumbs move deftly over his cheeks, wiping away the streaks of tears and taking Spencer’s insecurity with them. “I saw you dodging everyone’s advances and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,”

“I don’t want space from you,” When he opens his eyes again, they’re big, round, and still glistening with the moisture of his tears. But most of all they’re filled with nothing but pure affection for you. “I never want space from you…”

You sure that if you keep eye contact with him for much longer that you’ll start crying yourself, so you redirect his head to lie against your shoulder as you wrap your arms tight around his torso.

“I missed you…” His voice is so quiet that if you weren’t holding him in your arms you wouldn’t have heard it.

“I missed you too Spence,” Your head rests against his, you hand rubbing soft lines up and down his spine over his shirt as he soaks in all the affection he’s missed over the last three months.

“Can I stay at yours tonight? Please?” His gaze is enough of a ‘please’ in itself, but the way his voice drops to almost a whisper when he adds the plea onto the end of his question makes it impossible for you to deny him. Although it’s not like you were going to in the first place.

“Of course you can Spence,” You place a kiss to his left temple as you carefully break the hug, taking his hand in yours to lead him to the elevator. “Lets go home,”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #mgg #asks 🫶

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nereidprinc3ss · 4 months

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relax

in which spencer helps university student reader de-stress after a particularly exhausting assignment

18+ (smut) warnings: fingering, overstimulation, happy crying, lowkey softdom spencer, slight d/s dynamics, reader is referred to as a girl, ????idk i've never had to tag for smut before lols wc: 2624 a/n: been doing some insane literary cooking. lots of smut AND more fluff in the works (all uni reader... lol... ). idk if i love this but again need to fucking get it out of my word doc so here u go, PLEASE lmk if you like it!!

You don’t even realize the room has gone completely dark until Spencer comes in the front door and flicks on the light.

“Why did you do that?” you snap immediately, looking up from your laptop screen for the first time in potentially hours, blinking hard as your eyes painfully adjust. Your boyfriend gives you an odd look.

“Hello to you too...”

“I’m sorry. Hi. How was dinner?”

“It was good,” he says, crossing the room to the couch that has been your entire world for the past five hours. You sigh, releasing some of the tension in your shoulders when he leans down to kiss your head and set down a to-go box on the coffee table. “Have you moved since I left?”

“...no,” you admit, moving your eyes dejectedly to the keyboard.

“You made progress,” he appeases, leaning over you to angle the laptop upward. Immediately you wrench it away, holding it protectively against your chest.

“Stop! I don’t want you to read it yet!”

“I could help you with it though,” he pleads, bracing a hand on the arm of the couch. You look up into his hazel eyes, where he’s definitely playing up the puppy dog factor. His tie brushes your stomach, and he smells like lavender and clove and--

“You need to go away,” you realize, snapping back to reality and shrinking into the couch, away from him—trying to escape his all-encompassing sensory presence.

“Wh- I just got back!” he scoffs, straightening.

“You’re distracting me,” you accuse, throwing him a baleful look.

“I’m literally offering to help you.”

“And I’m respectfully declining because I care too much about your opinion to show you this essay until it’s less terrible. I really just need a couple more hours to finish it, please?”

Spencer sighs, regarding your pitiful state before moving to sit down next to you. Automatically you move your legs out of the way before settling them in his lap and damn it he’s supposed to be going away. Your iron grip on the laptop involuntarily loosens a little as his hands begin to run back and forth over your legs. No—you must stay focused.

“Spencer,” you whine, flopping your head back. You let the implied complaint hang in the air.

“You’ve been writing all day. Your brain is exhausted, and your synapses aren’t firing at a rate that is intellectually productive.”

“What is the point of having a brain if I can’t even use it half the time!” you almost-shout, pressing the palms of your hands into your eyes until you see fireworks.

The couch shifts and you feel the warm, robotic weight of the laptop unpin you as Spencer lifts it from your lap. “Don’t read it,” you beg, watching through parted fingers as he sets it on the coffee table, and relaxing slightly when he settles back into the couch.

“Come here,” he says, holding out an arm. Too mentally exhausted to do anything but comply, you pull yourself up just enough to fall into him. Immediately he wraps his arms around you, one hand slipping under your shirt to rub your back in hypnotizing passes. “I think you burnt yourself out,” he mutters.

You nod into his shoulder, surrendering yourself to his warmth, letting yourself sink into a lavender-clove fog, wanting nothing more than to dissolve into it. The darkness behind your eyes glows an inviting amber, threatening to pull you under...

But the essay...

“Stop thinking about the essay,” he demands.

“But I have so much to do,” you sigh against his jacket, the words coming out muffled.

“The best thing you can do now is give your brain a rest. I promise you you’re not making that paper any better if you’re exhausted.”

“I am not exhausted,” you insist, although your eyes are still closed, “I’m just really stressed.”

Spencer hums, continuing to rub your back.

“Do you need me to help you relax?” he says innocently.

Oh?

One of your eyes opens to peer up at him suspiciously. He sweeps some of your hair out of your face.

“Because I would be happy to.” A moment passes—him looking down at you fondly; you wondering if you’re picking up what he’s putting down.

“And how would you go about doing that?” you ask suspiciously.

“Orgasms reduce tension and stress and improve brain function.”

Damn. Why did the nerdiest, most un-sexy pickup line ever just turn you on?

You groan, burying your face further into his shirt—mostly to hide any trace of a blush.

“You know what else would reduce stress and improve brain functioning? Taking an Adderall and finishing my fucking essay.”

“Angel, you're such a smart girl, and you are fully capable of doing whatever you set your mind to—but I will lock your laptop in my gun safe before I let you look at that essay again tonight.” He speaks so softly, and his fingers are still gently combing through your messy hair... all in all, you put up a good fight, right? Maybe you should just listen to him...

“... fine.” you say eventually, reluctant to give in too quickly even though the idea quickly has filled your stomach with butterflies.

“Fine?” he says, pausing his motions as you turn your head just enough to look up at him. “Sounds like you don’t really want it, baby. Maybe we should just go to sleep. Or I could take you back to your-”

“Spence,” you whine, gently grabbing the front of his shirt. Now he’s going to make you beg? As if it wasn’t his idea? Those puppy dog eyes of his are deceiving.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” he sighs, hand moving from your hair to your outer thigh.

“Please?” you whisper, dignity forgotten as you look up at him imploringly.

“Lean back, sweet girl,” he says, helping you adjust your position til you’re lying against his chest, legs sprawled across the couch. Your head lolls on his shoulder, intoxicated by his close proximity. “Perfect. Such a good listener.”

Normally, you’d be quick to make a defensive remark, but with the way he’s slowly hiking your shirt up, running his hands over your sides so lightly it gives you goosebumps—you're really in no position to argue. Your eyes flutter shut as his hands grow bolder in their explorations, crossing your stomach, fingers just slipping under the waistband of your shorts and skimming over your hipbones before coming back up.

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs, and you nod lazily, apparently losing access to your language facilities after running them dry all day. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem good enough for your boyfriend. “Do you remember when the last time I touched you like this was?”

Through the hazy blur of your exhaustion, you try to think back. Was it... two days ago? Three? More?

“Almost a week ago,” he supplies the answer for you when you take too long. What? That can’t be right.

But when you think about it harder... it is right. It was right before finals week started.

An errant hand straying up your torso distracts you. “Do you remember what I did?”

You flush.

“You... yeah,” is the best you can offer, too flustered to say exactly what he did to your body. That stray hand moves over your breast. Your back arches just slightly at the stimulation through the thin fabric of your bra.

Thankfully, he lets you off the hook.

“I made you cum three times, right?”

“Mhm,” you hum through closed lips, tense with anticipation as he finally slides both hands down to your shorts and wordlessly directs you to lift your hips so he can pull them all the way off along with your underwear.

“You’ve been so busy lately, huh. Working so hard.”

You unconsciously drop your bent legs open, brain too foggy to be insecure about how utterly bare you are—allowing him to slowly rub up and down your inner thigh.

“I’m gonna make you feel good, honey. I don’t think three times was enough for such a stressful week.”

You gasp when his fingers finally brush your clit, whimpering slightly when they just barely skim your entrance before tracing the wetness back up.

“Give me your hand,” Spencer says, taking his own from between your legs and holding it up. You don’t even think about it, releasing your grip on the arm he now has wrapped around you and holding it out for him. At this point, you’d do anything he tells you to without hesitation.

He takes the proffered hand, gently guiding it back between your legs. Your fingers meet slick, soft warmth. “Do you feel how wet you are?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, seeing how your fingers glisten when you pull them away. His remain, running slowly up and down your clit. Your brain seems to be vibrating in your skull as warmth spreads throughout your body.

“Who’s that for?”

“You, Spencer,” you whimper. He hums in approval before the room falls into silence as you both watch his teasing intently, your breath baited as you try to be patient. But your body isn’t with the program, you keep twisting slightly, your hips cant upward. “Please, please,” the words escape on a held exhalation as you finally break, arching your back against him as your search for more friction.

Without warning, he sinks two fingers inside you. The slight stretch after not having taken anything in a week scratches an itch you didn’t even know you had, and you let out a broken moan.

“I know, honey. You’re so good, I know.” Spencer kisses your head as he speaks over your cry, barely moving his fingers for a few moments while you get comfortable.

Still you’re not ready for it when he withdraws and pushes back in.

“Look at that,” he breathes.

“Oh, fuck,” you choke, watching how your arousal completely coats his fingers as he slowly, slowly begins to fuck you with them.

Again you feel the vibrations in his chest as he laughs slightly��probably at your earlier insistence that you didn’t desperately want this. The laughter fades as you both become entranced by the sight of his fingers disappearing into you, and your stomach twists with pleasure. His pace remains languid, and he seems to delight in the filthy, wet sounds his hand is producing between your legs.

“You okay, baby?” he asks after a moment, seemingly snapping out of some trance.

“Uh huh,” you whimper. One particular drag of his fingers at just the right angle has you dizzy, and then he’s speeding up. Your jaw drops at the change in pace and your hips chase his hand, wanting even more.

“So pretty,” he mutters as his other hand moves to spread you open.

You attempt to shut your legs around his wrist, but instead he just ruts his fingers deeper into you, palm pressed against your clit. You attempt to twist away from the extreme stimulation, but he doesn’t allow it.

“Too much,” you squeak, bucking your hips inadvertently.

“No it’s not,” he states, like you’re talking about the weather.

“Spencer, I really c- ah- can't!”

“It feels like a lot, huh?” he asks soothingly, not letting up one bit.

“Yes!” you cry, eyes stinging as tears begin to well.

“You’re okay, angel. It’s just been a while.”

You are so completely fucked. Each stroke of his hand feels like an electric jolt through your whole body. It is too much, but at the same time, pleasure is pooling deep in your stomach and at the base of your spine and you never want him to stop. You throw your head back onto Spencer’s shoulder, eyes screwed shut.

“Relax,” he mutters, carefully bearing down the pressure across your waist with his arm to try and keep you from squirming.

A rhythmic whine breaks through the barrier of your sealed lips as you focus all your energy into taking it, when the all-consuming need to kiss him hits you. You twist your neck to look up at him, observing the furrow of his brow and the way he’s tucked his bottom lip into a bite. Thankfully he notices your movement—his eyes dart from your own half-lidded gaze to your lips and he understands what you want.

The kiss is messy and the angle is awkward and you’re moaning into his mouth half the time anyway, but it feels so good to have his lips moving on yours that you don’t care about any of it.

“I—ah,” you cry into him, unable to form a coherent thought as your stomach drops like you’re mounting the peak of a roller coaster.

His fingers again change their angle and he finds the spot inside you that makes your legs spasm. Attempting to hold in whatever noises you were making is now futile—the whimpers and pants turn to full-fledged keening moans interspersed with taut silences as you fail to breathe properly.

Your wrench your gaze and lips away from Spencer to watch through a blurry haze the rapid movement of his hand between your bare legs, the way your hips buck and twist and the way your leg bends as he hooks his free hand under your knee and hoists it toward your chest.

“You’re doing so well, honey. Being so good for me.”

Moisture spills over from your eyes, tracing down your cheeks and down your neck as you begin to come with no warning and a desperate, broken cry.

A string of praise from Spencer underscores your pleading moans, but you can’t focus on anything other than the buzzing warmth emanating from your core, the bright, pulsing white that blinds you and the feeling of stardust flowing through your veins.

Your boyfriend continues pumping his fingers slowly in and out of you for a blissful few moments, before sensing the tail-end of your orgasm and bringing his fingers up to rub lazy circles over your clit. Aftershocks resonate from the hypersensitive area and make you clamp your legs shut around his hand as your toes curl and you attempt to squirm out of his grip.

“Done! I’m done,” you squeak, rocking your hips back and forth to try and escape his toying.

“Okay, okay,” he soothes, relieving the pressure of his hand between your legs and moving it to run over your stomach as you come down.

You lie in silence for a minute, enjoying the liquid sensation weighing down your muscles and basking in the warm afterglow of your orgasm.

“Shit,” you breathe shakily after a moment. Spencer chuckles. You manage to turn yourself over, laying your cheek on his shoulder and slipping your arms under his waist. He looks down at you as he moves on to massaging your back and bare hips, eyes full of warm adoration.

“Feel better?”

You hum an affirmation, wiping your eyes on his shirt.

“Oh, honey, did I make you cry?”

You laugh into his chest and nod, a few stray tears leaking from your shut eyes. “It’s okay. Not sad tears.”

“What kind of tears?”

“Orgasm tears,” you mumble, a tidal wave of exhaustion you’d been fighting all day finally washing over you.

“That makes sense. Orgasms can be cathartic or even therapeutic depending on your head space. Major losses and life changes are often associated with sexual dysfunction but the opposite is actually just as if not more common. A spike in libido can—”

Spencer pauses, looking down to see that you’re either asleep or close to it, and smiles to himself. You’ll probably be mad about it when you wake up, but he had to get you to stop thinking about that paper somehow.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds imagine

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ssapphic · 19 days

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naughty.

[caitlin clark & paige bueckers x reader]

18+

—

“get off my cock” caitlin growls in a low tone. her fingertips dig into the skin of your hips, throwing you to the side of her.

you’ve been riding her for what’s felt like hours, her veiny hands glued to your ass, slamming you down on her thick silicone strap. every time you’ve come close to finishing, caitlin taunts you. she’ll still herself inside of you, staring up at you with those evil dark eyes. “what?” she smirks, you’re completely fucked out — and desperate for relief.

the tall blonde at the end of the bed sits up, “my turn, c?” awaiting the nod of approval from the brunette dom, paige’s piercing hazel eyes trail your body, hungry for the sweet milky seepage dripping out of your used hole.

“all yours” caitlin peers at paige as she watches from the other side of the bed, stroking her plastic dick. paige kisses your knees, sliding her lips down to your inner thigh.

paige is so soft, and sweet. the polar opposite of your other 6 foot girlfriend. caitlin is dirty, rough, relentless. especially after a loss or a hard practice, she’s coming home and absolutely ruining you. even if she’s in a good mood, she pounds into you until you’re drooling and crying.

your legs are trembling. paige’s tongue is your favorite way to cum. her kitten licks, the way her long fingers dip inside of you as your clit is submerged in her mouth. she’s a talker too, even with a face full of pussy. “mmm- you like that baby?” her once gentle gaze now dark and eager. you feel your tummy start to swarm with that warm feeling, and paige feels it too. your toes are curling, your eyes are squeezed shut, the pressure in your abdomen caused by the brunette is finally coming to a sweet release — until it’s not.

caitlin’s strong grip on your jaw snaps you out of your blissed out state. “wh-wha-” you mumble out, confused and needy, another orgasm denied. you look at paige, who is now buckling the strap to her waist.

“d’aww, you’d really think i’d let her finish what i started?” her voice is silky and smug.

before you can process what’s going on, caitlin’s on top of you, her knee pressed firm against your puffy bundle of nerves. her slender fingers slide to the back of your throat, “tell me what you want, and if i can’t understand you, you’re not gettin’ it.” you whine from beneath her, trying so hard to choke out your words.

“c’mon baby, speak. or else”

♡ authors note - first post yay :3 this is so self indulgent but idc. i was literally in the shower n couldn’t stop thinking abt this >_< if ur also in love with two basketball mascs, this is 4 u ♡ also i’m down to make a part 2 of this, just wanna see if it does well first hehe ♡

#caitlin clark smut #caitlin clark #caitlin clark x reader #paige bueckers #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader

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kentosmoon · 2 months

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Husband Nanami headcanon Pt. 2

NSFW 18+ [minors DNI]

Nanami x fem!reader

tags: creampie, unprotected sex, dom Nanami, Nanami is 33, wrote this at 3am so if there are mistakes I’ll fix it later 🫠

Songs I listened to while writing this: Lucky Daye - Careful

Chris Grey - Prada & Versace

Husband Nanami pounding you in your room while your parents are downstairs.

"Kento let's do this quickly before dinner is ready. You know how my parents are...especially my mom.” You bit your lip and turned around to lock the door. He steps behind you, and you hear the rustle of fabric as he undoes his trousers. Nanami's calloused hands grip your waist, pulling you back and tilting your hips up to grant him the perfect angle. You feel the blunt head of his cock tease your slick entrance, running up and down your slit, coating himself in your wetness. The teasing elicits a needy soft whine from your lips, but you know better than to rush him. He's in control, and each drawn-out second is a reminder of his dominance. "Such a desperate little thing," he murmurs with a tinge of amusement in his voice. With a skilled touch, he parts your folds, finding your clit with an expertise that has you gasping. He circles it once, twice — a gentle warning before applying the perfect amount of pressure that has you arching into his touch, a broken moan spilling from your lips. Wrapping your legs around his waist, Nanami lifts you moving towards the bed, gently laying you down. His knees sink into the mattress. He positions himself between your spread legs, his large, veiny hands running up your thighs, pushing them apart further, exposing your wetness to his hungry gaze. "You're going to be good for me now, aren't you?" he murmurs, his voice a caress against your skin as he leans down to press a kiss to your inner thigh. Nanami's hazel eyes bore into yours warmly. He positions himself at your entrance, his tip teasing your sensitive folds, drawing out the moment, making you squirm with need. "Hurry Kento...please...need you to fill up my needy cunt."

Nanami groans at your words, and without another moment's hesitation, he grips your thighs and thrusts into you in one smooth, deep motion, filling you completely. Your breath catches in your throat at the sudden fullness, his powerful body driving into yours with a relentless rhythm, each thrust designed to remind you who you belong to. His thick cock hits all the right spots, and you can feel another climax building within you, fast and hard. Nanami leans forward, bracing himself with one hand beside your head, his other hand finding its way to your clit, circling it with deliberate precision. His hazel eyes lock onto yours, holding your gaze captive as he fucks you, his movements becoming more erratic as he chases his own release. "You’re so tight baby, taking me so well." his voice strained with the effort to maintain control. Your moans were getting a bit...too loud. Suddenly your mom was knocking on the door. Nanami leans against your ear. "Sounds like we got company...be a good girl and keep that pretty mouth shut for me."

"Dinner is ready you guys. Is everything ok?"

"We're fine. We'll be down in a minute...I promise we won't be long." As your pussy grips his cock, Nanami grits his teeth, almost teetering out of control. He pushes your head into the pillow, muffling your moans. “Keep quiet hun. Don’t want to let mommy know their daughter’s a dirty slut hm?” Your ears turn hot as he coos into them. It pushes you over the edge, and you cum hard, your body convulsing, your cries muffled by his strong hand. This triggers Nanami's own release, and with a series of deep, shuddering thrusts and groans, he fills you, his hot cum coating your insides white. He continues to move gently, riding out the waves of pleasure, before finally stilling. Nanami's hand remains on your mouth for a lingering moment before he slowly removes it, looking down at you with eyes softening with affection. "Are you alright darling?" he asks, his voice gentle. You nodded in response. "I'm fine Kento." Nanami leans in slowly to anticipate the press of his lips. His kiss is gentle and loving, deepening at a natural, unhurried pace. He breaks the kiss pulling back just enough to gaze into your eyes. With a gentle but deliberate motion, he eases himself out of you, his cum slowly leaking out of your pussy. Grabbing his handkerchief on the bedside table, he started to quickly clean you up.

"Dinner is probably cold. Oh, they are so going to kill us Kento." Nanami hugged you, rubbing circles onto your back and smirked against your skin.

"Let them."

#nanami headcanons #jjk nanami #nanami kento #jjk smut #nanami x fem!reader #nanami kento x y/n #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #my headcanons #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento drabble #kento x reader #kento nanami smut

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reidmotif · 9 months

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Not-Friends with Benefits

Summary: Reader and Spencer have been hooking up with no strings attached just fine, until a singular bed threatens to change that.

Prompt: Reader and Spencer are JUST hooking up. Then, one bed. Forced to be more intimate by sleeping together, than actually sleeping together.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut/Angst (Happy Ending)

Content Warning: Reader POV, friends-with-benefits, oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk, he picks her up, heavy making-out, unprotected sex, Idiots in Love

Word Count: 7.1k

The first time I met Spencer Reid, I don’t think I really got him.

It didn’t matter though, because in these moments where my hands are knotted in his hair and he’s pushing me up against the wall, kissing like a man starved, I understood everything about him perfectly. My hands went to wrap around his neck, pressing his body flush against mine.

“Eager, Reid?” I ask, in between hungry kisses, a smirk lingering on my face.

“Could say the same about you.” He replies, equally as cocky, his hands sliding to the backs of my thighs in an instant.

I yelped as he picked me up, my legs immediately wrapping around his waist. I could feel a deep kiss being pressed against my lips for my implicit understanding of the action, and registered the movement of his legs working away from the motel door that I had just been at, and towards the cheap bed in the middle of the room. He threw me down, and immediately caged me in between his arms, giving me another fervent, heated kiss.

If you’d told me six months ago that I was not only sleeping with a coworker, but just sleeping with a coworker, I’d probably laugh in your face. If you’d added on and told me that the coworker I’d made that arrangement with was none other than Spencer Reid, I’d have probably keeled over with laughter. But here I am, being fucked in a cheap motel bed with his face buried in the crook of my shoulder, pressing wet hot kisses over the expanse of my skin.

And fuck me, was he good at that.

I could feel my moans reverberating around the room, as he removed himself from his place on my shoulder and placed a hand over my mouth, never once faltering with his deep, hard strokes into me.

“Mm. Gotta stay quiet, right? Don’t want the team to know how much you like being fucked like a whore.” He taunted, looking at me with those goddamned hazel eyes that drove me insane with lust.

I attempted to roll my eyes at him to show my displeasure at him for covering my mouth but at a particularly harder thrust than the others, they simply rolled into the back of my head and I screwed my eyes shut at the sensation, hearing him chuckling lowly at my reaction above me.

“Like that?” He baited, and I could literally hear the smirk in his voice.

I also, however, could feel the twitch of his cock, and his impending release and simply nodded, opening my eyes and giving into his provocations. I was implicitly begging him to go faster and harder with a simple gaze, and thankfully, the genius understood.

In a few moments, we were both unraveling in each other’s arms, Spencer’s thumb brushing over my clit to guarantee my release before his, and as soon as he caught wind of my shaking thighs and the blissful feeling of my climax around him, he shortly followed after, and I breathed a sigh of relief at the familiar warmth pooling inside my deepest point.

He pulled out, sweaty and panting, moving to the other side of the bed and lying on his back. “You good?” He asked, as I slowly started to regain some semblance in my post-orgasmic state.

“Mhm.” I nodded, completely fucked out. I turned over, starting to leave the bed. “I’m gonna go shower.”

He nodded back, not questioning the lack of spoken word that was being passed between the two of us right after we’d just had sex.

I hopped into the shitty motel shower, washing away the evidence of what we’d just done. The warm water allowed me to revel in my thoughts for a few minutes, my eyes closing as I felt the droplets hit my skin.

Spencer and I didn’t have, by any standards, an “ideal” relationship. However, for our particular circumstances, the agreement we’d settled on worked completely fine. Pure sex, nothing else. No talking. No feelings. Nothing that could lead to something beyond the physical pleasure we shared with each other after a long, hard day at work.

The first time it’d happened, it was entirely unexpected behavior from the both of us. I’d come to his hotel room in search of a file I’d loaned him for the case we were working on. At this point, Spencer and I weren’t exactly what you’d call close friends, but we weren’t exactly just co-workers either. The trauma of each case presented to us and being subjected to the other for most of our time led to a strange bond of understanding and acceptance of the other. A relationship that was probably incomprehensible to outsiders, but made perfect sense to either of us.

Underneath that, however, was an underlying tension neither of us could deny. I wasn’t dumb. We were both young, attractive and single, and I couldn’t lie and say that I hadn’t, on occasion, imagined his long fingers working relentlessly at my core, bringing me pleasure in a way mine couldn’t. I know he’d most likely fantasized about something in a similar context, given the way he’d stare at me just a split-second longer than he should have when I'd wear a lower-cut blouse, or a short skirt. His actions weren’t unnoticed, and it wasn’t like I didn’t want that either, but I’d always been exceedingly realistic with myself. We were both agents in the FBI, in the same unit. Besides the headaches we’d cause HR if we were to present ourselves as a couple, there were emotional boundaries we’d cross if we were to be romantically involved. Emotional boundaries I was simply uninterested in crossing at all with anyone at all, especially Spencer Reid.

That night I visited his room, it seemed (in retrospect) that both of our inhibitions were low. I watched him dig through his satchel on the floor, attempting to locate the file I’d come there for, and in a moment of weakness, I had watched those damned hands of his again. I couldn’t help it. His fingers were just so, so long. Even if he wasn’t so attractive, I think any person would be eager to have those inside them. Just from a physical standpoint, you know? When he looked up, his gaze caught me off guard and I couldn’t help but imagine how wonderful it’d feel to have him at his knees for me. He cocked an eyebrow as he rose from his position, now handing me the file.

“You okay?” He asked, his arm stretching towards me as I went to intercept the file from him. “You look a bit.. warm.” He said, his voice quipping a bit at the last word.

Fuck.

“Fine, you know how these motels are.” I replied quickly, hoping to offer some logical explanation for why I was so flushed, other than the fact I’d just been imagining him fucking me. “Shitty aircon.” I added, hoping to not seem suspicious.

My body seemed to give me away though, as when I went to meet his outstretched arm, some slip of my finger made it so the contents of the file tumbled out, leaving a mess of papers at our feet. We both instantly sunk to the floor, trying to gather them as quickly as we could. We were both bent at the knees fully focused on collecting the documents, unaware of our proximity until he handed the papers to me. I looked at his hands, then his eyes, and realized our faces were approximately five inches apart. I could see his gaze drift to my lips, then back to my eyes.

“So, I’ll um. I’ll take the papers.” I said, my voice almost a whisper, beginning to rise.

“Yeah, you should.” He said, his voice restrained as we both got up together.

As he handed the last bit of papers, his fingers brushed over mine and we both felt it. That jolt, that itch, just begging to be relieved. I looked up at him, his figure looming over me, and in an instant, something seemed to pass between us and his mouth was on mine, kissing me with overwhelming passion. I could feel my knees colliding with the foot of the bed as he guided me towards it, feeling him pushing me into the mattress. He’d asked feverishly if I’d wanted this, and I nodded eagerly.

And that was that, and after we’d finished our act of spontaneity, still panting and breathing heavily, I could feel the regret seeping in. I’d slept with a coworker, friend .. whatever he was, I’d slept with him and couldn’t take that back. Flashes of awkward conversations came to mind, ones filled with ‘what-are-we’s’ and ‘it’s-not-you-it’s-me’ and in my anxious stupor, I blurted out, “I don’t want to be in a relationship with you.” I looked at him a little wide-eyed after my outburst, surprised at myself for saying it like that. How stupid could I be? It was blunt, stupid, and definitely not something you said right after sex. I waited for him to call me a cold, heartless bitch, or to yell at me to get out of his room, but to my relief, he didn’t. He agreed.

“Wait, what?” I asked, unsure if I’d heard him right.

“I’m not really looking for a relationship either.” He repeated, but then slowly added. “But I’d also be an idiot if I didn’t tell you that was one of the best hookups I’ve ever had.” He looked at me, expectantly, as if I was meant to understand something from his words alone.

I narrowed my eyes, biting my lip. “What are you saying?”

Spencer turned to me, running a hand through his hair, made messy by my incessant pulling on it just a few minutes ago, breathing out. “I’m saying we’re both detached and clearly want the same thing. An outlet.” He paused, and looked at me. “And I mean, do you really want this to be a one-time thing?” He tacked on, cracking a bit of a smirk at that final remark.

“I mean..” I started, then paused. “So, this would be just sex. No feelings on either of our ends, no ‘boyfriend-girlfriend’ stuff, just .. sex.” I asked, trying to make sure I understood his intentions perfectly.

“Yeah.” He replied, nodding. “Just sex. I mean that.”

I looked at him, and something passed through us once again, but this time it wasn’t lust. It was the unstated trust that we held between each other, that neither of us was going to violate the other’s wishes, and this was truly what the both of us wanted from the other. I nodded wordlessly, agreeing, and he cracked a stupid, boyish smile.

“Really? You’re actually agreeing to this?” He said, incredulously.

“What, you want me to fight you on it and leave?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “You make a good point. There’s no use in denying ourselves a good time, especially if we’re so clear in what we want.” I said, reiterating what he’d said to me.

“Alright then.” He said, nodding slowly. “In that case, and I hope you don’t take offense to this. You should probably leave my room before-”

I was already getting off the bed, grabbing my clothes and flashing him a soft smirk to let him know that not only did I get the message, I was already planning on doing so long before he even opened his mouth.

“Don’t worry. I know.” I said, slipping on my shorts and t-shirt that I’d previously been wearing. “There are rules to what we’re doing, and I think sleeping in the same bed would definitely violate those.”

“Glad you understand.” Spencer replied, watching me from his place in the room. He awkwardly called out as I started to leave. “So, uh. Take care?”

I laughed at that. It was clear he had no idea what to say, and I opted to give him some grace in my reply. “Yeah. Sure. You too.” I said, before cautiously approaching the door of his room, checking the hallway for any of our team members, and slipped out quietly without another word to him and into my own bed, the aforementioned file being forgotten as I fell asleep in my hotel room alone, feeling more than okay with the terms we’d come to.

We’d continued this regimen with no problem for the six months following that initial encounter. If there was one thing Reid and I excelled at (besides the sex), it was following the rules. We were careful to never cross any lines with each other. No innocent, lazy makeouts in hotel rooms, no whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears, no longing stares or subtle brushes when we were with the team, nothing that could break the bubble between us that could lead into any possible intimacy at all. This is what we wanted, and we made that abundantly clear to each other through our actions, or more accurately, our inactions with each other.

Our ritual, however, seemed to be put on halt when Hotch came into the lobby of the motel we were staying at for a case, addressing our team as one.

“It looks like this place is mostly booked, so we’re going to need a few of you to double up.” Hotch announced to the team.

I internally groaned, realizing that if everyone was paired up, there was absolutely no way I was going to be able to sneak to Spencer’s room, or vice versa. Whatever. I can go a night without sex from him. Derek and Hotch were an obvious choice when it came to sharing a room. The two of them were surprisingly neat, considering they packed lightly. Emily and JJ too. They’d been friends for much longer than I’d ever even been on the team, and it didn’t surprise me that they’d choose to room together. Everyone paired off quietly, leaving Rossi, myself, and Spencer. Rossi shot a look at the two of us, and shot me a particularly apologetic one.

“I don’t mind you all that much, but I’m drawing the line at sleeping with the kid.” Rossi said, with an air of finality in his tone, indicating he’d end up being the one to get the one solo room amongst us.

I gave a look to Spencer, shrugging. To the rest of our team, our bond seemed as normal as it could be. I never treated him differently than I did any of them, and even in a room full of skilled profilers, I doubt any of them could sense that it didn’t even cross my mind that Spencer and I could end up sharing a room. It already felt intimate. More intimate than I wanted. We had a strict rule about not falling asleep together in the same bed after sex, and even if there were going to be separate beds in our motel room, the idea of being able to watch him sleep, hear him breathe five feet away from me triggered a strange sensation at the pit of my stomach, something I could only chalk up to a bout of nerves since I was unsure on how to navigate the situation.

As we approached the door, the two of us were a little stiff. I could tell he was probably thinking the same thing as me. I stopped right in front of the door, turning to look at him, and realized I’d gravely misjudged the distance we’d been walking apart, as my sudden halt nearly caused him to collide with me.

“Sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean to catch you off guard there.” I said, quickly, placing my hands palm-up against my chest to avoid a head-on collision. He nearly tripped, but balanced himself before shooting me a confused look, wondering why we’d stopped just in front of the door. “I just..” I started to speak, and then paused, wondering how to phrase this. Meaningless hookups are what we excelled at. It was natural, it was easy- but somehow the idea of us sharing a hotel room just felt a bit .. much to me. I wanted to somehow abridge the idea of us maybe not having sex that night, but before I could even formulate my words, he interrupted me.

“Look, (Y/N), it’s been a long day. How about we just go to bed tonight?” He said, looking right into my eyes, making the intentions behind his words incredibly clear. It’s like he’d read my mind, and I suppose in a way he had. We’d become so attuned to each other’s needs in the months we’d been having sex, a natural byproduct of how our time together was spent, and I think he could tell I was already nervous about the situation we’d found ourselves in.

I nodded, gently. “Yeah. My thoughts exactly.” I gave him a small, reserved smile before taking my keycard and swiping it against the door. I walked into the room, only to knit my brows in confusion at the sight laid out in front of me.

“Aren’t there supposed to be two beds?” I asked, moving deeper into the room to look for the aforementioned second bed, instead of the singular king that stared us right in the face.

He looked equally as confused, running a hand through his pretty curls. He instantly saw my discomfort, reading me like a book. “Hey, look. It’s okay, I can take the floor.” He said, already starting to move away from the bed to look for a way to make a make-shift bed on the floor.

I looked at him, rolling my eyes. “Reid, you have a bad knee. I should take the floor.” I reply, trying to get in his way, while flashing him a look of incredulousness, as if the idea of him taking the floor was absolutely ridiculous.

He flashed me a similar look, shooting back his own response. “Well, you can’t sleep unless it’s on a bed.”

I looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “How do you know that?” I shot back, a bit confused how he knew that about me. He shrugged, looking at me as if it was the simplest thing to figure out.

“You never sleep on the jet, like ever. Or the breakroom, or at your desk.” He says, looking at me. “Even if you’ve been up an unreasonable amount of time. I suspect it’s because you pretty much exclusively fall asleep in beds.” He finished off, looking a little too smug for his own good. “Am I right?”

I sigh. Profilers could be so fucking annoying sometimes. “Yeah, you are, but it isn’t a big deal.” I say, biting my lip. “We both can’t sleep on the same bed.” I reasoned, looking at him.

He looks at me, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean..”

I immediately shook my head, crossing my arms. “Spencer, no.”

He takes a breath. “We’re not having sex tonight.” He points out, reminding us that we weren’t technically breaking any of our rules by sleeping in the same bed tonight. “And we both know each other well. We’re both too stubborn to let the other sleep on the floor.”

I pondered his words, knowing he was right. And his reasoning was sound too. And God, it was late and I could feel myself already drifting towards the king-sized bed that beckoned me towards it.

“It is a big bed..” I reasoned out loud.

“Exactly.” He said, nodding. He yawned, and the exhaustion was clear as day. “It’s been a long day and I’m ready to just crash, aren’t you?” His voice clearly marked with the same tiredness I was feeling at that moment.

I nod, already moving to my go-bag to change into something more comfortable. I suppose this was one perk of sleeping with Spencer Reid, I really didn’t care if he saw me changing. The man had gone down on me more times I could count, I think the sight of my bra was probably one of the more tame things we’d end up sharing between us. He was about the same, unbuttoning his dress shirt in favor of a plain cotton t-shirt with no regard for what I’d see whilst he changed. We both naturally went to our own respective sides of the bed, looking up at each other before beginning to climb in.

“So, I’ll see you in the morning?” He asks, beginning to pull the covers over his body.

I nod. “Yeah. I’ll see you in the morning.” I pause, before playfully adding, “stay on your side.” I flashed him a small smirk, which he returned with a coy, “Do you even have to ask?”

I smiled at that, finding myself rolling my eyes fondly at him. “Night, Reid.” I say, turning my back away from him.

“Sleep well, (Y/N).” He replies, shutting the room’s lamp, enveloping us with darkness and the way his final words hung in the air between us. I kept my eyes open for a moment, and couldn’t hear anything besides the sound of him breathing less than two feet away from me. His breathing was rhythmic and soothing. I don’t think I’d ever realized it up until this moment, but Reid’s presence simply had a way of making me feel safe, even outside of the context of having sex. He was always so good at responding to my sexual needs, that even in a situation that wasn’t related to that, some subconscious feeling inside of me reassured me that he’d keep me protected. The thought provided me a feeling of comfort and dread all at once, knowing that even just sharing a bed was somehow becoming more intimate than us having sex ever was. I shook my head, almost hoping to erase the thought from my head altogether. I closed my eyes more definitively, and slowly, I fell asleep to the sound of Reid’s light breathing, the sound lulling me to sleep like the sweetest lullaby.

When I groggily came to in the morning, I quickly realized I was in an entirely different position that the one I’d fallen asleep in. When I’d closed my eyes, I was on the far-right side of the bed, curled away from Spencer, making sure to obey my own sentiment of staying on our respective sides. However, as of right now I found myself nestled into the man’s chest, an earthy and light musk permeating from him. My legs were entangled with his, and his arm had somehow found its way to lazily drape across my waist. My shirt had ridden up in the night, and his fingers touched the expanse of my bare skin, providing a warmth I never knew I could receive from him.

I slowly moved away from him, careful not to disturb his sleeping figure so that our faces were an inch or two apart, and from this angle I could take in every pretty feature on his face. I watched the way his chest rose up and down in his sleep, and the straight peak of his nose. The way his eyelashes fanned out when his eyes were closed. His face looked softer when he slept, an entirely different sight than I was used to when it came to him. My memories of Spencer were filled with passion and lust, and until now I believed that was all he could make me feel. But at this moment? I could only recall the absolute tenderness in my heart, and the sensation of fondness blooming all throughout me for this man.

I felt myself focusing on his lips, the way they parted in his sleep. They were a light shade of pink, and had a certain plumpness to them I’d never really noticed. When we kissed in the past, it was heated and rushed. Right now, though, I wanted to lazily kiss every inch of the skin, reveling in the slow movement of his lips against mine. I was so lost in my own fantasy, looking at his lips, that I didn’t even notice when the man stirred, until I saw the slight curve of a smile, causing me to look up at his eyes, which had been watching me for God knows how long.

“Good morning.” He murmured, his voice deep from just waking up.

God, did his morning voice have to be so attractive?

“Reid!” I said, attempting to move away, but his hand that had been lazily draped over my waist gripped me a bit more firmly. I looked up at him with wide eyes. “Good morning. Um. How long have you been up?” I ask, biting my lip a bit nervously as I felt a blush creeping over my cheeks.

“Long enough to know you make it a habit to stare at sleeping men you share beds with.” He says, his voice light, a small chuckle in his tone.

I squeezed my eyes, visibly embarrassed. “Sorry, I woke up and realized we were in.. this position, and I didn’t know how to move without waking you up. I must’ve gotten in my own head.” I said, using a combination of half-truths to hopefully sound as convincing as possible.

He watched me, his hazel eyes scanning over my face, and I could feel myself getting smaller under his gaze.

“It’s alright.” He slowly responded, as if not to scare me. “I don’t mind someone watching me if it’s you.” His free hand rubbed circles on my exposed waist, sending a chill up my spine. I took in his words. Nothing about our position was sexual, but somehow his innocent touch resonated on a deeper level than any physical intimacy we'd shared before. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, nodding.

“I’m still sorry.” I responded, my voice just above a whisper.

“Don’t be.” He said in return, his gaze a little more gentle now.

I watched him watch me, and could feel that little voice screaming at me to just move away. But I couldn’t. That familiar bloom of fondness came upon me, and I realized in this moment I was feeling a lot more than lust for this man, and it terrified me. I gave a straight smile, realizing if I didn’t move this instant, I was going to give into my desires and kiss him in a way I swore I never would. If I didn’t move, I’d kiss him like I’d loved him from the start. And in a war between my heart and head, I made the decision to firmly move away, moving his hand off my waist and rising from the bed.

“I’ll see you with the rest of the team.” I say, quickly. He looked a bit surprised by my sudden movement, trying to grab my hand before I could leave and sat up in bed.

“(Y/N), wait.”

I stopped, allowing his hand to envelop my mine, attempting to ignore the feeling of how wonderful it felt to just hold his hand like this.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, trying to seem as normal as I could.

“We’re..” He paused, and then narrowed his eyes. “We’re good, right?” He said, looking at me carefully.

I responded almost immediately. “Yeah, of course we are.” I said the words as confidently as I could manage, because, no, we were not good. I was starting to catch feelings for the coworker I’d been hooking up with for the past six months, of course I wasn’t okay. This was against every rule, every boundary I’d set for myself, and I could feel the panic seeping in. “Nothing’s changed.” I add, to assure him.

He let go of my hand as I said that. “Right.” He responded, a little more detached this time before quirking his mouth up. “I guess I’ll see you with the rest of the team.” He said, mirroring my words.

I nodded, biting my lip, before turning around to grab my clothes for that day, getting ready as quickly as I could manage, leaving Reid in the room without even saying goodbye.

That entire day, I could feel Reid’s eyes on me, and I’d be a hypocrite if I said I didn’t stare at him when he wasn’t looking. I couldn’t stop replaying the events of the morning. For a moment, I could almost imagine his gaze mirroring the same fondness I’d felt for him, but I’d quickly try to rid myself of those thoughts. Not only was it delusional to imagine Reid actually gaining feelings for me after all this time, it was even more deranged to imagine a universe where we’d work as a couple. I’d always prided myself on being exceedingly pragmatic, so why was I imagining a reality where I could wake up next to Spencer Reid everyday?

Throughout the day, I found myself increasingly frustrated about my situation with Spencer. The case we were working on required quite a bit of collaboration and desk-work, and I found myself flitting between my team members, exchanging information and files, and coming into contact with Reid more times than I’d hoped for that day. Every time I spoke to him, I could feel my heart in my throat, struggling to make eye contact for more than 3 seconds without deteriorating into a blush. I’d been fucking this man for six months, and this, this is what ruins me?

It’s not like Spencer made it any easier. His gaze was laser-focused on me, almost purposely brushing our fingers together when we’d exchange files. We were breaking every rule we’d set for ourselves, and with every glance and touch, I felt myself yearning for something I knew I could never have. And it was driving me fucking crazy.

It wasn’t until much later, where the team was wrapping up for the night, where I’d finally had enough. I had been reviewing the last of the files necessary for our case, when Reid strided over to where I was. I didn’t turn back, but I could feel him watching me. Slowly, I could feel him creep over, to the point where my back was nearly flush to his chest. He leaned over, his warm breath tickling my neck as he said, “I’m heading to the room.” That damned voice of his. I took a breath, and could feel myself getting antsy. Had I always been this hyper aware of Spencer’s presence? Had we always been like this, and I’d never even realized it?

I gritted out a curt response, “Fine.”

I knew it was unfair. I knew he wasn’t privy to what I was thinking or what I was feeling, but a small part of me couldn’t help but blame him. It was childish, but I’d said it anyway. He heard it and stepped away, knitting his eyebrows.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked, retracting his position to be slightly away from me, but close enough that no one else could hear.

“Not here. Not now.” I said, holding back any visible emotion on my face.

He nodded, and ran a hand through his hair nodding. We packed our things and walked together to the hotel room, silent. He opened the door for me and I walked in, turning to him as he closed the door.

“What.. what are you doing?” I ask, crossing my arms. “This.. you’re being weird!” I exclaim.

“I’m being weird?” Spencer asks, dumbfounded, whilst raising an eyebrow at me. “You wanna talk about ‘weird’, (Y/N)?” He says, using air quotes. “You’re the one that left like that this morning- and you were lying to me!” He says, raising his voice, especially at the last part.

I felt a muscle in my jaw twitch as he said that, and I spoke, trying to cover up my deceivement from earlier that day. “What? No- I wasn’t lying-”

He interrupted me. “(Y/N). I know you. I. Know. You.” He says, pointing at my chest and emphasizing each word. He continued, looking right into my eyes. “That means I know when you’re lying to me.” He asserted, challenging me as he stepped closer.

I took a step back. He took a step closer.

“You know what, Spencer.” I say, trying to manage a tone of finality, while creating as much space between us by raising my hands in between us. “I’ll take the floor tonight.” I swallowed a bit, looking for an opening I could use to move away from this situation, to end it before we got messy. Instead, he stood firm as I was left watching his face morph into one of confusion and hurt.

“Stop doing that!” He exclaims. “Stop.. stop pretending! I see the way you look at me!” He exclaims, seemingly getting defensive.

I furrowed my brows. He was not about to pretend he was guiltless in the situation we’d found ourselves in.

“And I see the way you look at me!” I yell back, not backing down. “So, what’s your point?”

“God, you just never get it, do you?!” He bursts out, and I can’t even begin to discern the expression on his face. He looked wild, running his hands through his hair once more.

“What don’t I get, Reid?!” I reply, breathing harder now as my voice rises, and I get closer to him. “Is this too much for you?!” I say, knitting my brows. “Do you want to stop, is that what you’re saying? Because I’ll have you know I am more than okay with shutting this thing we have-”

Before I can finish my sentence, he grabs my face with both hands, pulling me towards him and pressing me into a knee-weakening kiss. But instead of being heated and rushed, it’s sweet. It’s languid. Like we had all the time in the world to kiss like this. His lips moved slowly against mine, savoring it in a way I knew he never had before. He pulled away slowly, his lips red, and his hands still firmly on either side of my face.

“I don’t want to stop.” He says, breathless. “I don’t wanna get rid of a good thing just because we’re scared.”

I looked at him, my face riddled with confusion as he looked at me, and I could finally see the fondness I’d felt that morning reflected in his expression at that moment.

“But we said-” I began.

“I don’t care what we said.” He shoots back. “And I don’t think you really care either.” He adds on, softly. “I think you’re scared of being hurt, and I won’t pretend like I wasn’t either.”

My eyebrows scrunch as I look up at him, breathing out through my nose. “Why now then?” I ask, softly, my lips parting slightly. “What changed?”

He sighed, caressing the smooth skin of my cheek, smiling slightly at me. “I’ve felt it before.” He murmurs. “When I see you work, when I see you laugh.” He takes a breath. “But I think I felt it the most when I woke up and watched you watching me.”

He gently lifts my chin, and I look up at him with possibly the most love-struck gaze I’d ever managed in my life. He continued, looking into my eyes. “And at that point, I couldn’t ignore it. I don’t want to go another second pretending what I feel for you isn’t real, or something we need to bury.” He fixed his eyes on me, looking at me with a new tenderness.

I look up at him, biting my lip, holding back a smile. He sees the joy in my eyes, and I can tell he’s doing the same.

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, his voice a whisper.

I nod, already moving towards him.

And he’s there again, kissing me slowly and affectionately, his hands wrapping into my hair, and pulling him closer to me. My hands wrapped around his neck, and I kissed him back in the same leisurely fashion. I could see lifetimes ahead of us. Lifetimes of happiness, of kisses like these, where we could take our time because for once, we had it.

He guided me gently to the bed, and placed himself over me. It felt so different from all the times we’d shared our lust together. It felt like we were starting something entirely new. He kissed my lips, then my cheek, and then my neck. He knew my body as well as his own, finding the spot right below my ear that consistently made me moan his name. He grinned as he heard the noise escape my parted lips, rising to move the hair out of my face. He kissed my lips again, mumbling against them.

“You’re so beautiful.” He says, leaning closer and I smile softly at the words.

I bring him down for another kiss, and this time around, he’s slowly removing the buttons off my work shirt. With every button he removes, he kisses the newly exposed skin. I can feel his lips tickling the swell of my breasts, my sternum, and my stomach, eventually removing all the buttons and shrugging off the shirt. He then goes back all the way to kiss every place his lips hadn’t touched, and then some. It felt like an act of worship, of devotion. As if he was remembering me all over again, as if he couldn’t get enough of it.

He undid the buttons of my jeans, whispering sweet nothings all the way, and a pleasurable sigh escaped my lips, feeling his lips trail near my inner thigh. He pulled down my underwear, taking a breath in as he saw the glistening folds. He situated himself between my thighs, looking up at me.

“Can I?” He asked, clearly eager. I found it adorable he asked, as if he could sense the newness in what we were doing as well. I nodded, and brought my free hand to his curls, the other laying on the sheets. I could feel his smile as he brought himself closer to my heat, and gave a long lap of his tongue against me. I moaned out at the feeling, and it seemed to spur him on. He hooked his hands beneath my thighs, and began to delve into the hot flesh like a man starved. I breathed out his name like a prayer. His tongue darted out and licked harshly against my clit, and I could feel myself devolving. Even in this moment of vulnerability, I trusted him enough to fall apart, knowing he’d put me back together, and that’s exactly what I did. With another movement of his tongue, I reached my peak, moaning his name as my thighs nearly closed around his head, his strong arms holding me open.

He smiled breathlessly, my arousal coating his chin as he leaned over to kiss me one more time. As he did so, I moved my arms to start undoing his belt, and to free his cock from his briefs, the tip already leaking pre-cum. I guided him to my wet heat, pushing him in slowly. I moaned at the fullness and could feel myself enter a stage of total bliss.

He began to thrust into me, slowly at first, but increased the pace. He cupped my cheek, jutting his hips against me like a man possessed.

“You feel so fucking good around me, you know that?” He cooed, looking down at me. “So perfect for me. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

I smiled, dazed at the words, feeling myself rapidly approach my peak as he pounded into me, and I could feel the same for him. I opened my eyes, looking up at him with an expression that was full of lust and love all at once. “You’re all… I ever wanted .. too'' I moaned, feeling him start to go even faster at my words.

“Yeah?” He said, grinning again. “Then take it. Take everything I’m giving you.” He moved his fingers to begin circling around my clit, and moments later I was falling apart all over again. I came with a loud moan of his name, convulsing as he continued to thrust into me.

“Just like that, pretty girl.” He said, smirking. “Come all over my cock.”

I moaned at his words, squeezing my eyes shut as I felt him move faster against me, bottoming out inside me before I felt the stuttering of his own hips, followed by a warmth at my deepest point. He moaned at the feeling, pulling out afterwards and leaving me so empty. The feeling didn’t last long though, as he moved over next to me on the bed, pulling me close and kissing my forehead.

“You’re so amazing, you know that?” Spencer says, stroking my hair. He pressed a kiss to the top of my head whispering, “You know how long I’ve wanted to do this?”

I knew at that moment he wasn’t talking about the sex. We’d done that before. But this? This was different, and it was god-awful terrifying, but I think I could forget about the fear when Spencer was playing with my hair, treating me like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever touched in his entire life. I nestled into his arms, allowing the warmth to envelope me.

“You know you have to get up soon, right?” Reid muses, playfully. “Peeing after sex, and all that.”

“I know.” I murmur into the bare skin of his chest, sighing. “Just let me stay here a little longer.” I say, hoping he’d give in and just let me relax on him.

“Mm.” He replies, and I could feel the vibration of his lips from where I was. “There are some words I never thought I’d hear from you.” He answered, and I could hear the smirk in his voice.

I playfully hit his shoulder, laughing as I pretended to move away in mock offense, but he wouldn’t even allow that, pulling me even closer.

“Stay.” He whispers. “You feel nice.” And so I did, pressing myself against him and breathing in his scent.

He felt like a new person to me, and even now, I was absolutely insatiable for him. It’d never felt like this before, to feel so safe and loved for. We’d done that. We’d created that love for each other.

I recalled a quote I’d seen a lifetime ago, smiling at my own thoughts.

“Do all lovers feel like they’re inventing something?”

With Spencer, I think I truly was.

aa! second fic. this one was long. i hope you all liked it. reblogs, likes, comments are all gladly accepted. my reqs are also open so! go nuts. thank you for reading :3

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #smut #writing prompt #criminal minds fanfiction

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tadpolesonalgae · 8 months

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Azriel x Third-oldest-Archeron-sibling!reader: Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 4[*]

A/N: a truly beautiful friendship is always founded in chaos (it’s funny because of who Eris is in mythology)

Also, I would like to emphasise the bickering at the end is entirely whispered—enjoy

Warnings: Just general angst, sexual undertones, unjustly jealous!Azriel, swans (don’t even get me started on how scary they are, and don’t try to tell me otherwise if you haven’t been cornered by at least one)

Word Count: 6,618

-Part 3- -Part 5-

A voice is calling your name from somewhere: somewhere foggy, and distant.

A voice that really has no business interfering with the hot, male body that’s pressing you into the wall.

Large, playfully rough hands grip your hips, using his own to keep you pinned against the brickwork, groping your ass appreciatively.

You arch up into him, mouth opening over his own, tongue stroking and flicking. Fingers rake through his hair, turning it messy as you haul him closer. The lovely press of his cock against your abdomen, the ego-boosting sign of his appetite. He groans into your mouth, bucking his hips, and you drag the soft swell of your breasts over his chest. The cool night air scrambles beneath your skirts, making them flutter and billow, urging him closer.

The voice sounds again. Clearer; closer.

It’s strange how it sounds like—

The male body is forcibly torn off you, cold flushing your front, leaving the uncomfortable dig of brick into your backside. You blink away your haze, real world events crushing back down, slamming home when your eyes lock with sharp hazel. He’s clearly pissed. It’s probably the most emotion he’s ever shown to you.

How miserable.

“Did you forget we’re have dinner tonight?” He asks gruffly, hand still resting firmly over the male’s shoulder who’s looking warily between the two of you. It dawns on you what he’s just seen you doing, the position he’s caught you in; heat swallows your body whole. The shameful, humiliated type, and you force yourself to keep his gaze. Beg yourself not to hang your head.

“I’m not going,” you manage, eyes flicking away from his. “I already told Fey, and she said it was fine, so…” His brow narrows, attention piercing into you, judging. “They’re not compulsory, anyway,” you mumble, “so really I— there’s no reason for me to be at one.”

“It’s a family dinner. There’re plenty of reasons for you to be there.” His eyes flick to the male who just had you pressed between him and a wall, “unless something more important comes up.”

There’s no obvious sign, but he’s agitated. Irritated. Maybe a foul mood.

Azriel releases the male, eyes flicking over his shoulder—a sure dismissal. When the male refuses to leave, Azriel’s shadows thicken. Definitely a foul mood. “Is there something I can help you with?” He mutters sharply, piercing attention zeroing in on the male—Bas.

His golden eyes turn on you, peering warily, “who is this? You said you were on your own.” Heat washes down your spine, gaze flicking between them, wishing for the floor to open up under your feet. “He’s—nobody. Just a—…” You fumble, unsure what to say. “Acquaintance,” Azriel finishes for you, hairs rising at the back of your neck as he stares at you. “A friend of a friend.”

Bas’ lips lift into a smirk, and you pray he’s going to keep his mouth shut for once. But he turns to Azriel, standing less than an inch shorter than the shadowsinger, “I don’t see what business you have with a friend of a friend,” he drawls, making both of you stiffen.

The dim faelights gleam in his intelligent golden eyes, bringing out the rich darkness of his skin, the outcropping of his sharp jaw, the thickness of his hair that hangs in lovely, rough locks.

Azriel’s eyes narrow, shadows coiling at his back, peeking over menacingly large wings, “and what business do you have with her? She has plans for tonight.” One of Bas’ brows quirks in subtle challenge, and you brace yourself. “Considering she sought me out, I think her plans have changed,” he says, that provocative smirk still tipping his lips.

“Bas…” you murmur, stress tensing your muscles.

Both of their attention switches to you, and your mouth seals itself shut.

Azriel shakes his head, “she’s coming with me. Don’t bother her again, Bas.” The words are final, and you can tell the conversation is over. Bas doesn’t back down, though. Always ready for a bit of rough and tumble. Practically lives off the edge. “Now I didn’t realise she was your property, Az,” he drawls challengingly, his attention then settling over you. “And you should have told me who this other person was, sweetheart.”

They know one another?

“She’s not your anything,” Azriel says, a rough sharpness to his voice. “Back off, Bas.”

The male doesn’t budge. Instead his gleaming eyes fall on you.

Oh no…

“Sweetheart?”

Heat warms your skin, gaze darting anywhere but the two males before you. You really don’t want to go to the dinner. To see all of them so soon after the mess that happened precisely one week ago… And it would be weird to show up after having said you weren’t going. What if you went and there wasn’t enough food? She has enough on her plate, she doesn’t need to worry about extra dinner guests.

You’re staying with Bas.

Hazel meets your gaze, and words stumble. “I…” I’m not going to the dinner.

“You…?” Azriel repeats, jaw tightening.

You flush, eyes lowering, heat warming your cheeks against the cool night air.

You turn to Bas, and he frowns. “Sorry,” you say gently, “I should see my sister.”

The wings at Azriel’s back loose a slight bit of their tension—still pulled taut. “Right, let’s go,” he says, cutting off any communication, “we’re already late.” You shoot Bas an apologetic look as you move to follow behind Azriel—keeping his gaze ahead. He merely shakes his head, giving you an easy smile, “find me after, okay?” A wave of gratefulness washes over you, and you push every drop of it into the thankful look you send him. Then you turn, hurrying down the uneven cobbles after the Shadowsinger.

He’s silent when you catch up, walking at his side, a pace behind. He doesn’t look at you once, continuing down the road that will lead to the River House. Fighting down the humiliation, you clear your throat. “Can you—” You nearly trip, righting yourself a second before your tipping point. Stumbling, you scoop the fabric of your long dress into your hands, raising it out of the way of your feet.

He continues walking, though slows a little as you scramble after him.

“Azriel,” you say, a little breathless. “Azriel, wait.”

He halts suddenly, making you flinch with the abrupt stop. Sharp hazel eyes press down on you, and you falter. “Yes?” He asks. Fumbling for words, your eyes flick out from under his, skipping over the shops in the darkening streets. “I—…” you begin, unsure what to say. “Can you…can you not mention any of that?” You request softly, embarrassing heat warming your cheeks.

“Who would tell?” He replies coldly.

Humiliation settles in the pit of your stomach. You lower your head a little. Nod. “I didn’t want you to think…”

“I don’t make a habit of interfering with other people’s business,” he says pointedly, watching you. Why does it feel like he’s scolding you?

Your lips press together, shoulders curving inward almost imperceptibly.

His eyes flick to your hair, and his hand raises, as if to shift a strand—tuck it away. But he stops, noting your gaze. “You need to fix your hair,” he says, a touch softer than before. “It’s obvious what you were doing.” Shame is like a deadweight in your gut, hands feeling dumb as they attempt to neaten out a mess you can’t see. His eyes narrow when you lower them, and you both know it would be easier if he was the one to right whatever’s wrong with you. He doesn’t, though.

“I’m not like Nesta,” you say softly, a little shakily.

His brow narrows slightly, “nobody said you were. There’s nothing wrong about being similar to her.” Heat warms your skin, and you stumble under the look.

“I mean, that—what you…saw—that’s not normal. It’s not a… I’m doing doing any of that…”

“Drinking and fucking?” You flinch at the crude wording, and a gleam of apology flashes in his hazel irises. He watches you quietly for a moment, and you shift under his gaze, hands moving to rest on your elbows, dress swishing close to the ground.

“You know it’s fine if you are,” he says, gently. “As long as you’re being sensible about it,” he adds, “there’s nothing wrong with doing that if it works.” Your lower lip wobbles at the implication—that he knows you’re doing this to try and get over him. How desperate you’ve become.

“But find someone other than Bas,” he says, making you furrow your brow.

“What’s wrong with Bas?” You ask. He’s been great. Azriel watches you silently again, hazel eyes piercing into you blankly. Has your lip-tint smudged?

“He’s not…” Azriel begins, as if debating how to frame what he wants to say. Make sure you’ll understand. “You shouldn’t spend your time with someone like him,” he settles on.

“‘Someone like him’?” You echo, looking back up the street to where the two of you had been. Heat crawls up your spine, and you hastily look away.

“He’s different from you,” Azriel says, bluntly.

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” you argue softly, peering at the cobbles. You hear him sigh, as if he doesn’t know what to do with you. “He can’t give you what you’re looking for. He’s the type to string you along until he’s bored, then never visit again. Stay away from him.”

“He hasn’t done anything bad…” you say quietly, shifting lightly from foot to foot. “He’s been…he’s been very nice.”

Azriel sighs again, and that funny feeling settles in your stomach. Disappointment tickling your insides. “That’s to draw you in. As soon as you try to bring him to a dinner, or to meet one of your sisters, he’ll bolt.”

“Why would I bring him to meet any of you?” You ask bitterly at the lack of confidence. “Do you plan to keep your partner a secret?” He counters with, tersely. “Maybe.” You reply defensively, still looking at the ground.

He’s quiet again, and you can almost feel the air shift. “Need I remind you of last week’s events,” he asks, quietly. “You’re not known for keeping your mouth shut.” You bite your lip to keep it from trembling, nails digging into your elbows. “And I thought you didn’t make a habit of interfering with other people’s relationships,” you murmur.

“I know they’ll make good decisions,” he counters. “You don’t have enough experience. To know what you’re doing.”

“Stop treating me like a child,” you whisper, head dipping. “I know what I’m—” you cut yourself off as a sob tries to work its way from your throat. Take a deep breath. Swallow. “I know what I’m doing,” you manage quietly.

“You’re going to get yourself hurt,” he argues. “You don’t want to damage yourself like that.”

Your body stiffens at the words, then a breath eases from your chest. You nod. “Okay.” You begin walking again, one foot in front of the other. He sighs again. “I didn’t mean it like that.” You keep walking.

“I’m trying to help you,” he says flatly, falling into pace.

“Okay.”

“So you’ll stay away from him?” Azriel asks, eyes falling on your smaller frame.

“Okay.”

His brow narrows on you, watching intently. Then, “look at me.”

Look at me.

The feeling of his fingers inside of you, close enough to share breaths, yet you were the only vulnerable one. Not an ounce of intimacy to be exchanged. You keep walking toward the River House.

Azriel doesn’t say another word.

————

In the end, you’re somewhat glad you went to the dinner.

If you hadn’t, you would be back here, in the mortal lands.

Well, with no wall, you’re not sure what to call your previous homeland. But you’re here, nonetheless, and all thanks to Elain. She’d wished to see Lucien, who had near permanent residence in the mostly intact house, and had invited you along with her. Whether she knew you needed some time away, or simply offered, you don’t know.

You’d arrived most likely around an hour ago, Fey and Cassian departing soon after, leaving you and Elain to spend the day as you pleased. You’d opted to take a stroll around the gardens, walking alongside the river that was just beginning to refill after an apparently hot and dry summer.

That was your first encounter with Eris.

You nearly jump out of your skin when he winnows to the river bank mere feet to your left, stumbling backward a few steps in surprise. Cutting caramel eyes pierce into you with razor-sharp scrutiny, noting your pointed ears. His brow narrows as he takes you in; he doesn’t look pleased with what he finds.

Blinking, you mark the blazing colour of his hair, the beautifully tailored finery, the flicker of flame in his eyes—remarkably similar to Lucien. “What…who are you?” You manage, calming your heartbeat. It’s a nonsense question, you realise—it’s obvious who he is. Anyone could figure it out through simple deduction. So you shake your head, “why are you here?”

Eris’ eyes narrow on you, then he’s striding forward, moving up the river bank until he’s come to stop before you. You take a single step back—if you have to crane your neck to look at someone, you’re too close. He’s remarkably imposing with his height and muscle, despite the inherent beauty of the fae.

“Who are you?” The words are short and efficient in a sharp, brazen way, and you find yourself wondering if you should have just continued on your way. “I’m—” you open your mouth to give your name, then realise it would be rude to assume he knew who you were. There’s no reason for him to. “Feyre’s my younger sister,” you supply instead.

His brow narrows. “I didn’t know there were four of you.”

Heat flushes your skin, and you look away. It’s not an insult, yet you feel embarrassed.

“So, why are you here?” You repeat, a little quieter, trying to change the subject.

“I’m expected,” he replies shortly, turning to face the way you had come. “Why have you been kept a secret?” He asks. You mentally scramble for an excuse to continue on your walk. You don’t want to go back yet, and he’ll probably expect you to winnow, and you aren’t really in a talking mood at the moment. No excuse comes to mind.

“I haven’t been kept a secret,” you respond finally, falling into step a little behind him. “Not intentionally, anyway,” you add as an afterthought, frowning. He's walking fast, and you’d like more time to take in the scenery. At least he’s not winnowing.

“You haven’t been present at any meetings,” he counters, “I find it hard to believe that’s a coincidence.”

Your frown deepens, “why would I be at any of them? Elain hasn’t been to any, either. The only time you would have seen her is in the Hewn City.”

“Which you were kept away from, too.”

You come to a stop, watching him. His brow narrows as he’s forced to slow his pace, looking vaguely irritated. “I was there when you danced with Nesta,” you correct, “all of us were.”

Eris stares at you blankly and it’s an effort not to squirm. “I was there,” you insist, “behind Elain?”

He doesn’t remember you.

Well.

“So you’re good at remaining unseen,” he says, turning to set you into motion again. You hurry after him, a little taken aback at the compliment. It’s a nice way to think about it, a faint smile tipping your lips, “thank you.”

“It was a question.”

“Oh…” you say, smile vanishing. It hadn’t sounded like one. “I guess… I prefer it…”

“You and the Shadowsinger must get along swimmingly,” he mutters, continuing along the path, neatly avoiding muddied parts. Something you fail spectacularly at.

The comment registers in your mind and you stiffen, muscles contracting as you force yourself to continue moving. “Not particularly…” you hedge, uncertain what’s appropriate to tell him. You aren’t familiar with Court politics. “No more than anyone else, anyway,” you correct, soothing out the slight rumple.

“No? Not settling in well?” He asks. You could swear there’s some sort of mocking undertone to the question, but you can’t figure out what the taunt is for.

“I…I guess not?” You answer, slowly. “It’s not bad,” you add hastily, not wanting to talk negatively behind their backs. He might bring it up later. You repeat the thought in your head, then shake it, smiling faintly. He hadn’t even know you existed until a few minutes ago, yet you think he could be trying exploit you. How silly.

The result of an over-inflated ego. Maybe you really should stop fooling around with Bas—he’s giving you all sorts of ideas about the value of your person, and it probably isn’t healthy.

“I mean, it’s fine. Just…normal, I guess. Compared with the initial chaos,” you add, satisfied with the end result of your rambling. The house is in sight now. All you need to do is pass between the river and the pond, and—

You stumble.

Not literally—it’s more of a mental scramble. Because right there, where they weren’t mere minutes ago, are a pair of large, powerfully built swans.

Eris continues walking like the two beasts aren’t eyeing you up with those sharp, beady eyes. You can practically see the light catching on the small teeth hidden beneath the beak. Glittering with menace.

“Let’s go this way,” you say abruptly, pointing to the path that winds around the pond. He comes to stop, clearly irritated by the unnecessary hinderances you’re causing. “This way is perfectly usable. We go this way,” he turns, continuing forward, fear rising in y our throat.

You scramble forward, clutching the skirts of your dress, “Eris!”

His caramel eyes slice into you, piercing in their intensity, but you don’t buckle. “I understand that maybe they don’t seem as vicious as the creatures of Prythian,” you murmur, as if they can hear you, “but swans are still very dangerous. We should go around.” Again you point to the pathway, ears perked up for any signs the massive birds are approaching. “And I get that you have magic, but you can’t just go around butchering local animals if they get in your way. That’s not how things are done here.”

He stares at you, as if asking if you’re serious. You hold his gaze because yes, you’re completely serious.

“You know they won’t attack you,” he counters, “and you’re correct, they aren’t dangerous compared to the beasts in Prythian. So move aside.”

You shake your head, “they could break your arm,” you insist, refusing to budge. His brow narrows in a scathing scowl, “they could break a human’s arm. I am not human.” He walks around you.

“They’re still dangerous, Eris. We should really go around,” you urge, watching as he walks along the path, remaining rooted to the spot. “Just winnow,” he snaps, then looks over his shoulder. “Unless you aren’t strong enough.”

“I can winnow fine, but…” Even that’s too close to them. You firmly believe animals have a sixth sense humans do not—you wouldn’t put it past them to know they’ve been cheated. “Please, let’s just go around.”

He watches you with narrowed eyes, weighing; judging. You freeze beneath his gaze, refusing to even breathe in case it’s the wrong thing to do. He turns fully to you then, and you think he might listen to you. Relief washes over you, but—

“You’re scared of these creature?” He asks, amusement underlying his tone. You flush. “Like I said, they’re dangerous,” you defend, lowering your gaze a little.

“You know, you’re fae. They won’t attack you.”

Your eyes flick up, doubting. “Why would they act any differently?”

“We are creatures of magic. Greater than they are. They know it would be unwise to attempt anything.” You blink, having not thought of it like that. The fae had felt different when you were human, more intense, more concentrated in a way humans weren’t. You hadn’t considered maybe other animals would understand that primal difference, too.

Eris’ lips twitch, and he holds out his arm—you’re completely certain it’s a mocking gesture this time. But also a challenge.

It’s also a prompt to face your fears. It’s been long enough.

You can do this.

You can prove to yourself there’s no need to be afraid of them any longer.

You take some small steps forward. Then a few more. And a few more after that. And then your arm is overlapping with Eris’, feeling the hot strength of muscle cording his forearm. An odd feeling of security settles over you, as the two of you begin to move forward.

You’re unable to help tensing as you pass them, even if Eris is on the side closest to them. Then to your dismay, he stops. “You can pet them, if you want,” he says, lips still quirked in the corners. He’s enjoying watching you shake and tremble at something half your size. “Are you insane?” You mutter under your breath, staring at the white beasts that seem to be waiting for an opportunity to strike.

Eyes widen and you stare at him, “I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean that.”

He watches you steadily, eyes gleaming as he turns toward the swans, forcibly dragging you with him, despite your protests. “Eris…” you mutter, digging your feet into the mud, but you nearly slip. “Eris, seriously, stop it.”

He stops; you sigh in relief, but the tension doesn’t leave your body—still much too close to the great birds.

“Go up to one,” he says, a smirk on his rosey lips. “Touch one, then you can go.” He’s enjoying this far too much for your liking.

“No way,” you hiss, trying to pull out of his hold. The swans shift at the jerky movement, and you still. You stare at him, but he doesn’t seem inclined to move. “They’ll definitely do something if I try to go up to one!” You argue, as softly as possible. He just hums, and you wish you had continued walking instead of addressing him. Then you could be looking for blackberries, enjoying the natural sounds of the outside.

But here you are.

“You’re fae,” he reminds, eyes gleaming as he watches you intently.

Muscles tremble, thoughts flash in and out of existence within your mind as you look at the swans, sat neatly on the river bank, just at the water’s edge. A few long steps there, then back, and it’ll be over.

He’s right—you’re fae. They won’t attack you.

Still.

His arm unlinks from your own, hand pressing gently against the base of your spine. Egging you on.

You exhale a heavy breath, then move forward. Silently cursing him—unkind as it is. One step at a time as you descend the bank. The wind seems to have picked up, and you’re grateful for your preternatural sense of balance as you move down the muddy slant, feet settling on the pebble-filled shore.

Just three more steps, and you can turn back.

Two more.

One more, and then you’ll be in reaching distance.

The beady eyes pierce into you, wings stiffening, and you force yourself to breathe deeply.

“Just tap one on the head, and it’ll be over,” he reminds from your back, a little too loudly for your liking. Like he’s trying to get them to startle.

You steady yourself, blocking him out.

Come on, you can do this. You’re twice it’s size, and have immortality on your side. You can do this.

Slowly, shakily, you take the last step forward, reaching out your hand.

Black eyes meet your own, and you falter.

The swan shrieks, the second one hissing viciously, wings flaring to strike. You jump away, feet landing on the slippery rocks of the river. The massive birds surge forward, beak opening to snap at you, and you stumble, yelping as you fall backward. Icy water soaks up to your waist, and the breath whooshes out of you, your arms covering your face as wings flap.

When you open your eyes, the swans have taken off, and you’re up to your ribs in freezing river water. Trembling and shaking, you ease yourself out, soaked from the waist down, clothes wet and icy against your skin as you shiver.

Up on the bank, Eris is grinning, eyes gleaming with mirth as he watches your soaked state shuffle from the river, barely keeping his laughter to himself.

“You said—” Your heart is still pounding, vision blurring a little as you fumble for words. “You said they— That they wouldn’t…” Your teeth are already chattering, and you have to get warm quickly. You know how deadly the cold can be. Even with a reinforced body, the cold is as vicious as you remember, softly sinking into your arms, numbing your lips.

“Every animal has a fight or flight response,” he replies, voice lilting with amusement at your terror. “It was foolish of you to think you were above that.”

“But you said—”

“If I told you to dip beneath the river for five minutes without coming up for air because fae lungs are larger, would you do it?” He counters.

“…I wouldn’t disbelieve you,” you stammer, lips numb from the cold, lumbering back toward the bank.

The water in your shoes makes it hard to climb the muddy slope, and you end up having to use your hands to keep yourself steady, gritty dirt sliding beneath your nails. “Why did you lie?” You manage, heart pounding from fear, blinking away tears. His lips are still quirked into a rueful smile, enjoying your terror.

Hateful, hateful, hateful male.

“Don’t blame your idiocy on me,” he says smoothly, offering you a viper’s smile as he turns to continue along the path, leaving you freezing and shivering, soaked in river water. “Anyone with half a brain would have been able to see through that,” he calls over his shoulder. Tears spill down your cheeks, and for once, you don’t think, or fret over the consequences.

You winnow, and land a smack square across his cheek. As hard as you can.

He blinks, startled.

Then flame ignites in his eyes, glittering ire blazing hot as a forge.

“Don’t you ever,” you snarl, “do something like that again.” Fury heats your body, and you feel like a physical warmth is wrapping around you, fingertips tingling as if glowing, skin itching just below the surface. “Do you hear me, Eris?” You repeat, rage sharpening your words as your lip pulls back from your teeth.

The flame banks in his caramel eyes, and he yields a step. It’s satisfying, until you realise why.

You are glowing. But it’s not the bright, warm golden of Feyre’s happiness.

It’s green, and vivid.

Hands the colour of radiant starfall.

————

The Mother seems to enjoy putting you through various trials.

You come to this conclusion as you resist the urge to press deeper into the firm heat of Azriel’s chest as he carries you through the air.

For reasons you can only guess at, Cassian was otherwise preoccupied, leaving the Shadowsinger to fill in. Now Elain understands your relationship with the male, Feyre can guess at the complexities, and Azriel is part of the mess, so it should be obvious you’ll fly with your younger sister, right?

Unfortunately, Lucien had to be accounted for.

He’s well aware of the history between the Spymaster and his mate, and while he would never ask Elain to avoid him, she can guess well enough it would make him unhappy. That’s how you end up in his arms, split between wishing to be anywhere else, and wishing to be able to bask in his touch without anyone questioning how close you would lean. As it is, you’re stuck between keeping your distance, and not leaning so far it looks like you’re attempting to plummet to the ground far below.

The group is moving in silence, passing over the final stretch, and you can make out the twinkle of lights in the distance—Velaris. They’d gotten caught up in—what sounded like—a rather heated conversation with the Autumn Court heir, while you had opted to wait outside. The hallway had seemed too cramped, and you weren’t sure if you could manage being pressed so close to him without making your discomfort obvious.

Azriel breaks the silence. “Was everything okay with Eris suddenly turning up?”

The question startles you from your inner thoughts, and you replay it to catch the beginning. “Yeah,” you reply, trying to keep your eyes off him. “He’s just a bit…” You fumble for words, but he’s already nodding, knowing what you’re getting at. “He’s a little intense,” you settle on, “but everything was fine. For the most part, anyway.” You’re rambling.

“For the most part,” he echoes, a soft question in his voice.

“Well, I ended up falling into the river, but you know how it is…” you mumble, suddenly finding the sky very interesting. More interesting than Azriel.

(Liar.)

“I don’t think I do,” he replies. “What does soaking yourself to the bone have to do with him?” He asks, grip tightening ever so slightly as you begin the descent. You really don’t want to tell him—it’s not going to win you any adult points. At best it’ll just show how emotional your are, and that means baggage.

“It’s a long story,” you hedge, trying not to cling too tight to him as your stomach lifts in your belly. “We’ve got a while left,” he replies, gazing ahead. He could definitely be going at a steeper angle.

You sigh softly, trying to figure out how to make it as quick and concise as possible. “Well…he kind of…appeared out of nowhere, and we ended walking back together.” Azriel’s fingers press into your skin lightly, slowly spiralling in wide circles, “and there was a river involved.”

You nod gently, “yeah.”

“How?”

Teeth worry your lower lip, mouth pursing.

He exhales quietly. “We’re in an alliance, but that doesn’t mean you should trust him. I need to know everything that happened so precautions can be made,” he explains firmly.

“Okay…”

“So tell me what happened when you were walking alone with him,” he prompts.

“There’s not much to say…” you try, but he gives you a look that tells you to quit lying. “I don’t know…we were walking past the river, and there were some swans, and he convinced me to touch one, and…well, I slipped and fell in.” You leave out the glowing hands part. If you mention it, you know they’ll pounce. You don’t want to go through what Nesta did. The things she had to endure just to activate her powers…

Granted, there’s no looming threat of the queen anymore, but still. You’d rather not.

“He convinced you,” Azriel mutters under his breath, “and how did he do that?” You flush with heat, and pray he can’t tell. “I didn’t want to walk past them, and he…encouraged me to tackle my fear.”

“Stop forcing a good narrative on that prick,” he says sharply. “He didn’t encourage you, he manipulated you.”

“Maybe,” you murmur, “but I’m a little less afraid of swans now.”

Azriel sucks in a steadying breath. “And what did you talk about?”

You cast your mind back to the conversation. “He said he hadn’t known there were four sisters,” you admit, quietly, “he thought there were only three, and that Rhys was hiding me, for some reason.” He hums, and your hairs stand on end, able to feel the resonance thrumming through you. You hurriedly shift your mind elsewhere before your scent changes. “What else?”

You put your teeth into the inside of your lower lip, “I…” said we weren’t on the best of terms. “He asked…how…I was settling in,” you manage to string the words together, selecting each one with great care. “And?” He prompts. Oh dear.

“I said it was fine,” you reply, purposely vaguely. His eyes flick to you, and your own snap away in response. “Just fine?” He questions, softly. You make to nod, but he mutters your name under his breath, a quiet reprimand on his tongue. Heat coils in the pit of your belly, making you shift uncomfortably in his arms, leaning away.

A muscle feathers in his jaw, and he tightens his grip on you. “Stop doing that. You’ll fall.” You’re squeezed closer to him, and you squirm, the heat doubling. He mutters your name again, rougher.

“Stop doing that,” you hiss, sharply. You don’t have time to feel bad—it’s better to be rude than for him to realise the immense effect he has on you. “Stop leaning away from me,” he counters, “you’re being difficult.”

“I’m sorry my responses are an inconvenience for you,” you snap, quietly. No louder than a whisper.

“Don’t weaponise your emotions like that,” he murmurs back.

“I don’t see how I’d be able to when I don’t even know what that means,” you return, quietly. You feel his eyes press into you, and you look further away, inspecting the ground. “Don’t feign ignorance either,” he says sharply, “it’s immature.”

“Immature is making a problem out of something I can’t help,” you whisper back, snappily. His eyes narrow on you, and you shift again.

His hold tightens abruptly, fingers digging into you as he roughly readjusts his grip on your thighs and around your back. You squeak at the harsh treatment, heat bursting in your lower belly, and you squeeze your lips together, praying no sounds slip out. “It’s like you’re trying to get me to drop you,” he mutters beside your ear, “just keep still. We’re almost there.”

“Keep still?” You repeat incredulously, staring at him. “I don’t know if you’ve somehow forgotten, Azriel,” you hiss, emphasising his name. Hazel eyes flick down to you, and you gently push away the heat for a moment. “But I struggle to even think straight when you’re around. I can barely keep my head as it is, so forgive me if I’m a little shifty in a position like this,” you snap quietly. Probably the most aggressive you’ve ever been for a consistent time period.

“And I don’t know if you’ve forgotten,” he snipes back, eyes piercing into you, “but you managed to pull away on the brink of an orgasm.” Wild heat swallows you whole, and there’s no way your scent is remaining undetected now. “So you’re clearly more in control than you say you are.”

You stare at him, lips parted, skin flushed with heat.

“We are done with this conversation,” you hiss, breaking your gaze away. He doesn’t appreciate the verbal dismissal. “We’re done when I say we’re done,” he hisses in return. “Now what did you mean when you told Eris you were fine?”

You purse your lips, pointedly averting your eyes.

He mutters your name, grip tightening on you. You ignore him.

He repeats it, rougher this time, shadows twining around you.

“Cut it out,” you whisper, sharply.

“Expand on the fine comment,” he pushes, and you can physically feel the weight of his gaze upon your cheek. “Why are you so hung up on that one, tiny part?” You return, a sliver of irritation peeking through. “Because you’ve been acting strangely for a while now,” he hisses, “and if you’re starting to spiral like Nesta—”

“Do not threaten me, Azriel,” you snarl softly, skin heating—tingling. His eyes flicker, and his hold lessens on you a little, “it’s not a threat,” he soothes, “just an observation.” You narrow your brow as you watch him warily. “Like I said: you’ve been acting strange recently, and if you even gave the slightest hint that something’s off, Eris will exploit it.”

Your eyes flick away, slightly embarrassed by your tiny outburst. That wasn’t appropriate.

“So tell me, what happened when you said you were fine?” He repeats, gritting out the question.

“I…” You bite your lip, then give up. “He asked if I was settling in well, and I said I wasn’t.”

“Why did you tell him that?” He asks, gaze returning to pick out Velaris, much closer now. “Because it’s the truth,” you reply, a little weakly.

“I don’t care if it’s the truth, you shouldn’t have told him,” Azriel hisses. “He’ll give you the comfort you want, offer the reassurance, until you’re wrapped so tightly you choke on it.”

Hurt flickers in your eyes, vision blurring. “Maybe if I was better than fine I wouldn’t need the comforting,” you snap, turning your head and blinking away tears. His jaw tightens, “that’s not the point.” You stare at him. He stares back, features set in a stony line. “What is the point, then?” You ask weakly, the small spark of fight banking, beginning to flicker out beneath his oppressive gaze. “The point is,” he says, dragging out the words like he’s talking to a child. “You’re too naive.”

It’s like a smack to the face, your head reeling.

“You don’t know the dynamics between the courts. You don’t know about the feuds, or the history of Prythian. You don’t know enough to be trusted to act on your own,” he continues, oblivious to the number of scars he’s striking. “You’re a loose cannon, that I now have to compensate for.”

You stare up at him, hazel eyes glittering beneath the starlight.

“What’s worse—”

You put your hands over your ears. You can’t take anymore. If it was coming from someone else—fine. From anyone else it would be fine; understandable.

But not Azriel. That’s too much.

His brow furrows, lips moving, and you can guess he’s telling you to remove your hands.

You shake your head softly, unable to stand another word.

But his shadows contract around your wrists, tugging them away, and you hate the heat the bubbles in your lower belly at the roughness.

“You need to grow up,” he mutters, lowly. “You can’t just run away from something if you don’t want to hear it. You’re going to have to face it.”

A sob breaks from your chest, and your hands cover your face as the tears finally break, spilling down your cheeks. “Just leave me alone,” you cry, shoulders shaking as the tears continue streaming. “You find me irritating? fine. You find me annoying? Fine. You think I’m the worst, ugliest, most useless female in the world, fine,” you sob, unable to look at him. “But keep it to yourself, because every single word from your mouth holds more weight that you can probably even understand. And it is crushing me.”

You tremble in his arms, wishing they were there to offer comfort instead of being purely obligatory.

“You think Eris is the viper? You think he’s the one who’s bad for me? The one who’s trying to choke me?” You ask through your tears. “But you’re the one succeeding.”

Azriel’s eyes harden, and you feel the fractures growing larger. “I’m trying to keep you in line,” he replies, coldly. “For the sake of my Court, my High Lord and Lady, I am doing my best to keep people safe,” he emphasises. “And you are a proving to be a burden.”

You don’t know if he intentionally selected that word, burden.

You don’t know if he even realises which wound he’s targeted—so many have been picked open.

But you go quiet in his arms.

Docile.

The fight finally winking out.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

CBMTHY Taglist: @impossibelle @naturakaashi @sakurafrost3-blog @ficienjoyedrbspot @azriels-shadowsinger @marina468 @misstea12 @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @minakay @i-am-infinite @wannabewolf @thegirlintheshadows101 @kennedy-brooke @esposadomd

#Azriel #Azriel x reader #Azriel x Archeron sibling #Azriel angst #angst #CBMTHY #Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You #Part 4 #CBMTHY Part 4 #Eris

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hungharrington · 5 months

Note

jayy!! lately i’ve been thinking that steve really really likes it when you ride him. like yeah, he loves to see you on top but i feel like he loves the idea of you using him to get off yknow?? like he just wants to be your boy toy. doesn’t even care if he doesn’t cum, but gets SO WHINY and blushy when he does cause he just feels so so lucky to have you jump his bones🙌

UGH i need him like i need to BREATHE. need him to whine in my ears 24/7

-🍒

oh lawd. this one…. brain goes BRRRRRRR what did you PUT in this ask cherry…. does this fit the prompt? maybe 🤪 but it was written at work so have mercy on me

Of all the things Steve loves in the world, making you feel good? Top of the list.

That much is a given— with the fervor in which he’ll bury his face between your thighs, moans that vibrate against your cunt just right, his fingers digging into your thighs as his hips rut against the bed.

When he’s determined to pull an orgasm out of you with his hands, his darkened hazel eyes drinking in every moan, desperately flicking between your blissed out expression and his fingers pumping into your cunt, covered in your slick— all of it shows in the ache in his pants, in the breathy noises he makes when you tip over the edge.

So, you’re not at all surprised at what he says to you that night — take what you want.

You’re both tangled together, haphazardly draped across the bed— too entranced in the hot press of each others mouth to think about letting go, even as you had both staggered up the stairs and into the bedroom. It had been one charged dinner date, with one hand far too comfortable sneaking up your skirt go tease you.

Now, Steve lies beneath you and when you break away, panting, to work on the buttons of his dress shirt, he’s a fucking sight to behold. Chest heaving, face flushed so much it crawls down his neck, his eyes fix on you with such an intenseness that it makes you shiver.

His shirt has been driving you crazy all dinner, undone just enough to show a flash of chest hair. Now you work it open quickly, each button revealing a little more of his glorious tanned chest, sprinkled with hair. Lust drools through you. You rake one hand down it, fingernails pressing into his skin lightly and Steve groans.

“Okay, you need to get naked, like, right now,” His hands pair with his words, finding the edge of your shirt. He’s tugging it up and your arms go up to let him pull it from your frame. His insistance makes your grin.

“Funny how you can say that when you’re still wearing pants.” You bicker back, using your now free hands to work on his belt buckle.

Steve watches you for a moment, his tummy clenches when you palm at his bulge for a moment and his head rolling back onto the duvet. He makes a pained noise. His hands form fists at his sides — just for a moment, before he’s sliding them up your thighs.

They creep beneath your skirt, finding the elastic of your panties — then one of his hands shift forward, cupping your heat tightly. You moan at the same time Steve does, his hand pressing up against your clit perfectly. He shakes his head on the bed, his hair messing up against the sheets.

“I take it back,” He whines. His hands shoot down to overtake yours, shucking his pants down his thighs as best he can. Just the thin material of his boxers remains. “I don’t think I can wait, honey, I need— you can just- please,”

“Hey, hey, I got it, I got you,” You push his hands away and Steve melts. He grows still, only his hands twitching and his neck craned up to watch as you tug his boxers down.

His cock must be aching with the way it looks, all pretty and flushed in the head, crying just for you. You can’t help yourself, giving it a quick pump, rubbing the head with your thumb.

Steve keens loudly, his body growing taut, his head thrown back. A strangled whimper tears from his throat. “Ngh- please, oh fuck, pleasepleaseplease—“

You release his cock and Steve deflates a bit, panting loudly. Your skirt takes only a second to remove and it takes another to push your panties to the side, your knees straddling across his hips. Your core burns hotly, clenching in anticipation of being filled.

You make sure Steve is watching as you hold his cock, prepped to sink down — and he is. His face, still flushed with his eyes bright, is intent on watch your own.

It makes the heat in your gut flare hotter. Hot lust sparks beneath your skin as he keeps his gaze on you for as long as he can — your hot, wet cunt sinking down on him finally forcing his eyes closed.

“Fuck, fuck— shit, don’t move just yet,” The words pour from Steve’s mouth, his eyes screwed up and head thrown back. Your hands shift forward, planting on his chest and you give him a minute— revelling in the delicious stretch his cock gives you. Fuck, it never gets old.

You lean down and kiss the closest skin you can find, his collarbone. Steve smiles, eyes still closed. His hands shift off the sheets, trailing from your thighs, your hips, up your ticklish sides, until he finds your face. His thumbs stroke over your cheeks delicately and when he pulls you closer, you follow without hesitance.

He kisses your lips, soft and sweet, and then murmurs against them. “Take what you want, baby.”

A little whine creeps out your mouth at his words and your hips follow without thinking, beginning to rock gently. A dose of lust licks up your spine and you sigh prettily.

Steve’s face shudders, pleasure rippling across his features and his eyes slip shut. His mouth drops open a little bit, the smallest noise escaping, his cheeks almost as pink as his lips. His eyes crinkle open, watching you closely.

“Ye- yeah, that’s it.” Steve manages to murmur. His hands haven’t left your face, still gently holding either side as you roll your hips back, slow and sensual. “Good girl.”

A gasp pushes past your lips and this time when you rock back, it’s a little more desperate. Steve moans, voice drenched in desire, and his hands fall from your face to grip the sheets. You lean on his chest further, your thighs aching deliciously as you fuck yourself on his cock— up and down, faster and faster.

“Steve,” you mewl out. It’s instinct to reach for him, to call out for him and in response, you feel the buck of his hips, pressing him deeper within you. Steve whimpers.

“You got it, honey,” He assures, voice more and more breathy. “Doing so good.”

There’s a soft squelch as you work yourself down on him, a coil of pleasure beginning to tighten up in your tummy. You feel a fiery warmth beneath your skin that spikes with every movement you make.

One of Steve’s hands comes up to cover your own, holding it tight to his chest — right over his heart and he lets the other nudge your face back to facing him. You hadn’t realised how it had begun to tilt forward, lost in your own pleasure.

“Mhm, fu- fuck, that’s my girl,” Steve whispers. You shift up to change the angle and when you fuck back down, you moan loudly — Steve writhing beneath you to contain himself from fucking up into you. You, however, show him no mercy.

“God,” Steve whines loudly. His breathes are coming out with little whimpers now. “That’s—that’s it— just fuckin’ take what you need. Take it, take it from me, baby.”

Your cunt gushes and you whimper — and you do just that.

#i didn’t make him as subby as requested i’m sorry 😭#he IS such a ‘take what u want from me’ bf cos he’s just happy to be making you feel good #GOD do i feel rusty with smut #i have no been in the mood 😭 life is too freaking busy 😭 and scary 😭#but! can’t say… i don’t try <3 #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #steve harrington #jay writes #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve smut #cherry anon

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azsazz · 5 months

Text

Midnight Muse (Part 2)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2,450

[Part 1]

_________________________________________

“Nope,” you mutter under your breath, brow furrowed in confusion. His words haven’t quite settled yet, but they form a coherent thought right as the doors to the elevator start to grind shut on creaky limbs. Your body floods with so much anger that your chest aches with it a little, and you’re shoving yourself away from the front door, lunging towards the elevator in response.

You catch him as his glance lifts from his phone at the sound of the front door slamming shut loudly behind you. Gorgeous, hazel eyes meet yours and your breath hitches in your throat. Definitely because you’re getting worked up as you run to catch the doors and not because of how pretty his eyes are.

You itch to rifle through your packed boxes and sort through your pencils, searching for those exact hues.

There is no way you’re going to catch the doors in time, and godsdamnit you probably look like a fucking fool right now, cheeks flushed and hair wild, forehead dewey with sweat. Your eyes are a blaze, swirling with both embarrassment and annoyance. The corner of his mouth quirks up because he too, knows that you won’t be able to slip inside of the elevator with him before the doors shut. The machinery is slow as fuck when you need it but now it chooses to work properly? What the fuck is that about?

“Fucking asshole,” you screech, slamming your palms against the metal doors that separate you from him. You pray he hears it. You hope he understands how lucky he is that you’re not on that elevator making his life a living hell. You release a long groan, one that comes from the depths of your soul, and press your head against the cool metal, squeezing your eyes shut.

The truck doesn’t have to be returned until noon tomorrow, but you’re in a loading zone, and the last thing you need on your first day in your new apartment is the truck getting towed. You don’t even have the beginnings of money to pay to get it out, and you have no idea when your new neighbors will be leaving.

Trudging up the stairs because you can’t be assed to wait for the stupid elevator to return to the first floor, you stew in your anger. The effort it takes to climb the fourth floor helps dispel some of the white, hot anger you feel towards the boy, and you start to think that maybe you should’ve expected that kind of behavior from someone as good-looking as him.

You shake that thought from your head as quickly as possible, and begin to take the stairs by two.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

You’d filled Feyre in on the lobby incident, tossing the keys to the truck onto the counter before snatching your water bottle. It’s not as cold as you’d like it, as you need it from the heat curling your body from the sight of the parking bandit, and especially after taking the stairs.

You’d muttered for her to keep checking out the window every once in a while to see if either of the people blocking you moved their cars while you stalked off to take a shower.

Three hours later, some pizza filling your stomach and swaddled in your comfortable pajamas, neither of the owners of those vehicles have left.

“Give it up,” Feyre groans, tossing her half eaten crust back into the pizza box. It’s stacked on top of a cardboard box labeled ‘Living Room: Puzzles & Pillows.’ You don’t understand Feyre’s packing techniques, if the two were placed in the same box because it makes sense in some way you wouldn’t understand or if it’s because they both start with the letter ‘P,’ but you’re too tired to care right now. Or ever.

You groan, slumping back onto the couch. You haven’t gotten a ticket yet, but the constant nagging of your conscience is keeping you from really settling into the reality show you and Feyre are obsessed with. It’s about a bunch of young couples shoved into a house to find love. It’s cringey as fuck, but it makes for good television.

“I’m still pissed off about it,” you grumble, picking at the cheese crusted to the cardboard. It’s gone hard and cold, but you nibble it anyway. You should’ve ordered popcorn to be delivered or something. A bottle of tequila, perhaps.

“I know,” Feyre sighs, “But you being pissed off isn’t going to make the cars magically move.” She readjusts, sitting upright. “Oh! Maybe if you stop being pissed about it, they’ll magically move them. Let’s try that!”

You roll your eyes instead, opening your mouth to speak, but loud, brash music cuts you off. You and Feyre share a confused look, then turn towards where the sound is coming from.

It’s blaring through the walls. Specifically, the wall your bedroom shares.

You groan, shoving your face into your hands. As if this day couldn’t get any fucking worse.

“What the hell is that?” Feyre asks, pushing to her feet.

“Sounds like a bunch of metal clanking together with some surprisingly nice harmonies mixed in,” you answer sarcastically. While it’s not your favored type of music, the man who isn’t screaming like a banshee sounds quite lovely.

Feyre cuts you a look, pressing her ear against the wall. You don’t know what she’s trying to hear through there, you can understand each and every word all the way from your spot on the couch. You’re too tired to wonder, though, and still focused on the damn truck sitting outside.

“Should we go over and ask them to turn it down?” Feyre asks, making her way back to your side so you can actually hear her. You sigh, so godsdamn tired of this day. “That’s going to get annoying, fast.”

“We can always try not being pissed off about it,” you respond, using her own words against her. Feyre’s lips tighten sourly while yours pull into a grin. “Maybe they’ll magically turn it down!”

“Shut up, loser.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Of course, it’s fucking him.

The boy from downstairs. Only the person who’d made your already rough day even shittier would of course be the person you’re forced to live next to for an entire year. His hair is wet, unruly like he’s only just run a towel through it, sticking up in all directions. It’s the perfect length, a few strands nearly poking him in those intriguing eyes. It’s black as night, too. He’s dressed in a tight black t-shirt that leaves very little to the imagination, stretched tight across his chest. The fabric sinches around a tight waist that makes your mouth dry. You can only imagine the muscle pointing to what lies beneath his low-slung jeans.

“Can I help you?” He glares as he stands in the doorway, and you trade a stunned look with your roommate.

Feyre’s lips are slightly parted, eyes wide as if she’s just seen her favorite sculpture come to life. You get it, felt the same way when you saw him, but then he’d opened his mouth and ruined everything.

He still looks great, unfortunately.

“Can you turn the music down? We’re trying to sleep.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you lift your chin and straighten your shoulders to show him that his utter beauty is not intimidating at all.

That blank stare flickers between you and Feyre. He takes his sweet time taking the both of you in, surveying your loose pajama pants, oversized college hoodies, and your wet and tangled hair that clings to your neck. You curl your toes in your slippers. You blush under that scrutinizing gaze, but you don’t allow yourself to back down, steeling your spine.

“It’s nine thirty,” he responds bluntly, as if you don’t know what time it is. Flames stir in the pit of your stomach, awakening in his presence once more.

“We know that,” Feyre tries, because she’d seen the way your jaw was clenched so tightly she thought it might crack. She understands now, that this is the asshole you were referring to when you’d climbed up the stairs to get back to the apartment.

You had definitely downplayed his looks, though.

“We would appreciate it if you would turn it down,” you finish for her because the boy doesn’t look like he understands. Maybe he just doesn’t care. You can’t tell, you can’t get a read on him. “We’ve had a long day. People park like shit here, and we couldn’t get our moving truck out of its spot, you know?” You bait him, finding yourself wanting to see a flicker of any reaction. “Had to call the towing company to get them to move that stupid bike, isn’t that right, Fey?”

And there. There it is, at the mention of that little bike that wouldn't have stood a chance against the big moving truck you rented should you have hit the gas a little too hard on accident. You almost wish you would’ve, to be honest.

Hazel turns from a lush forest to a menacing storm, ripping needles from branches and limbs from trees. It makes your stomach flip with unease, a shiver wrack down your spine. The shadows in the hall seem to fracture with his mood change alone. Maybe you shouldn’t be fucking with him.

Before you get a chance to tell him you’re only joking, he slips back inside his apartment and slams the door in your face.

For the second time today, you feel the urge to pound your fists against the door and curse his name that you don’t even know.

You don’t have to, though, because Feyre’s doing it for you, rapping her knuckles against the thick wooden door, a frown on her face, eyebrows slanted downwards in annoyance.

It’s not the asshole that opens the door this time. It’s another utterly astonishing boy with an aura to him that makes your knees weak. His hair is swooped perfectly back from his face, shorter than his friends’, but suits his sharp face perfectly. Those cheekbones could cut glass. Again, you feel the need to search for your pencils, because the blue of his eyes is so deep they’re nearly purple. You’ve never seen anything quite like it, as you stare up into them.

What the fuck are they putting in the water here?

Feyre’s breath hitches as he peeks through the tightly shut door, blocking your view when you try to peek around him for his friend. You’d push right through that tall, tight body of his if you had any muscle left after lugging your life in boxes up the stairs all day.

“Sorry, ladies,” his voice is like silk, and as his gaze burns down Feyre’s body, it turns to a near purr. “We’re getting ready for an event tonight, but we’ll try our best to keep it down.”

Liar. You know it not because of the mirth in his tone or the sparkle in his eyes, it’s the soft scoff behind the door that has your fingers rolling into fists.

He doesn’t leave room for a reply, closing the door with a click.

Clenching your jaw, you take reign of the situation, pounding so hard on the door that your bones reverberate with it. You’re tired of this. Of this building. Of the motorcycle. Of the fucking elevator. You’re so tired and irritated and they deserve your wrath now. Fuck being civil.

After a few incessant bangs, the door opens again, and your jaw goes slack.

A behemoth of a man stands before you. His broad shoulders take up the width of the door as he leans against it, nonchalant as ever. As if you and Feyre aren’t bothering him in the slightest. His thick arms are folded over his bare chest and your mind short-circuits. His tan skin on display is yours for the taking, and you drink him in like a dehydrated woman.

Tattoos line the expanse of his exposed skin, but your gaze moves too fast to take notice of what each one is. You're too busy focusing on the rippling muscle lining his stomach and down to his loose sweatpants, hung so low around his waist, you don’t even see the elastic of his underwear. You swallow dryly. You don’t think he’s wearing any.

As you and your roommate devour the sight, he’s doing the same to you, pink tongue peeking out to wet his lips as he stares, unabashed. His hair hangs around his shoulders, the perfect length for pulling. Which is what you want to do, right about now.

“Well, hello there,” he greets, tone a rumble or warmth. His mouth hikes up into a grin that makes you want to melt and tuck yourself into his large embrace, or get on your knees and open your mouth. Either or. “You must be our new neighbors.”

Feyre nods, a dumbfounded look on her face. You’re sure it matches the one you’re wearing right now, unable to form a single word. “That’s right.”

“Aren’t you two the prettiest things I’ve ever seen,” he compliments, and you wonder why it hadn’t been him in the lobby when you’d needed help. Or when you both arrived. With the muscles stacking his arms, he looks like he’d be able to carry thrice the amount of boxes that you can, all at the same time.

It’s like the three of you are stuck in your own little bubble in the hall, all silent and all taking your fill of the other. You wonder if he’s taken two girls at once before, and then you deem it a stupid thing to think because of course he has. And if you looked like that, you would too.

“Right,” you blurt, cheeks flaring as his attention settles on you. The tilt to his mouth is distracting, but the changing of songs inside helps keep you focused. “About that music…”

“Oh that?” the boy rolls his eyes. “That’s nothing. Just wait until later when it really starts picking up, that’s when—hey, wait,” he cuts himself off, craning his head around to see his roommates, “Why aren’t we letting them in, again?”

There’s laughter on the other side and the second boy’s voice filters over the music. “They were mean to Az.”

The large man turns back, disappointment scrawled across his face. “Ah, sorry, lassies. No one’s mean to Azzy,” he says it softly, like it hurts him to be shutting the both of you down. “Have a nice night.”

The snick of the door shutting is the final nail in the coffin.

The click of the lock is them burying it.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Midnight Muse Taglist: @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea (can't tag ya for some reason) @thisisew

#azriel x reader #azriel #acowar #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #azriel/reader #art school au #tattoo artist!azriel #midnight muse

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