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nereidprinc3ss · 1 month

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drunk in love

in which fem!reader gets extra affectionate with spencer when she's drunk and he's just happy to be there

fluff! warnings/tags: drunk!reader, tooth-rottingly sweet fluff, spencer loves you so bad, short n sweet, that's it a/n: this is for the person who requested spencer taking care of drunk!reader and they're just being really cute and kissy and i lost your request i'm sorry but i hope you see this!! if you guys like this pls let me know, i have spencer helping drunk!r with a bath locked and loaded and its also so cute oh my god i love him goodnight

“Spence,” you say, voice pretty and airy as a song, pressing butterfly-light kisses with soft lips all over the side of his face.

“What?” he asks fondly, fighting to keep his grip on you secure as you keep trying to fall down and bring him with you. This bar isn’t necessarily a dive, but he’s sure the floor is still sticky and he’s not interested in checking.

“I really love you so much. I love you so much more than anyone else has ever loved anyone before.” It’s the fourth or fifth time you’ve told him you love him so much in ten minutes, but it doesn’t feel any less wonderful to hear. “Say it back!” you pout, settling against his chest.

“You didn’t give me time to say it back,” he explains patiently, looking down at you and brushing hair behind your ear. “I love you so much, too, baby.”

Suddenly you’re too flustered and shy to make eye contact.

“Call me that again.”

Spencer’s brow furrows. His smile flickers wider.

“What? Baby?” You nod into his chest. He smooths your hair. “I call you baby all the time.”

“Because you love me?”

“Because I love you,” he agrees solemnly.

You squeak, covering your face with your hands. Not for the first time tonight, he wonder what exactly was in those drinks Penelope kept ordering for you.

“Kiss?”

He gently grabs your wrists.

“You have to show me that pretty face if you want a kiss.”

Your hands slide down your cheeks and you tilt your head up. Now that your face is on display, pretty and shiny in the low lighting, Spencer ducks down and kisses you sweetly, one hand on the back of your head, the other pulling your wrists down and out of the way. He makes sure to not let it go on for too long. There are still plenty of people around, but more saliently, you are quite drunk.

“Good?” he asks, brushing a thumb over your cheek as he pulls away.

“Can we kiss forever?”

“We can try,” he muses.

“I love you,” you say again, plainly. “I wish there was a word stronger than love. I feel like I’ve said love so much it’s lost all its meaning.”

“Keep saying it,” he encourages. “I like hearing it.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” you whisper. Spencer leans down for you to cup your hand to his ear clandestinely. Sweet vanilla perfume still clings to your warm skin, lingering on your neck, mixing with the smell of fruity cocktails on your breath and making him dizzy. “I think JJ has a crush on you.”

He chuckles, straightening. Grieving the loss of your scent for just a second in the back of his mind—until you’re pressing against him anxiously, and it returns.

“JJ is married, babe. I don’t think so.”

You pout.

“No, but I really think she does! It makes me sad!”

Spencer doesn’t believe it for a second, but he knows hard logic and persuasion aren’t really going to do much for you right now. So he loops an arm around your waist and reigns you in.

“You don’t need to be sad, sweetheart. It doesn’t matter who has a crush on me because I have a crush on you.”

“Just me?” you ask anxiously.

“Just you. You’re the prettiest girl in the world. I have a huge crush on you.”

He realizes his voice has taken on that saccharine quality that Derek would give him shit for, and it’s probably visible in his eyes as he leans close to you, but he doesn’t care at all.

You raise your chin, wordlessly asking for another kiss. He delivers. The fabric of his shirt tugs where you grab onto it, attempting to bring him closer even when he draws away from the kiss. Of course he allows it, narrowly avoiding stepping on your toes as you pull him to you like a dog on a leash.

“Can we go home? I wanna cuddle.”

Oh, yeah. If Derek were present he’d have the most ridiculous, shit-eating grin on his face right now. Luckily he’s not here right now, and even if he were, Spencer would still brush your hair aside and say, absolutely we can go home and cuddle.

“Of course we can. Do you want to say goodbye to everyone?”

“Mm… can we Irish goodbye?”

He chuckles.

“I think you should say thank you to Penelope for buying you all of those ridiculous drinks that are making you so nice.”

You make a face.

“I’m always nice.”

“You’re not always this nice,” he reminds you with a small smile, resting his hands on your waist. You frown.

“In my head I am.”

He kisses your head. It’s impossible not to.

“I know. Come on, let’s say bye. I want to go home too.”

“You think I’m not usually nice?”

“Of course I don’t think that. I think you’re so nice.”

“Oh my god, can we get ice cream?” You gasp, already distracted and pulling him along by the hand as you weave through the sparse crowd.

He smiles to himself, happy to follow your lead as long as you don’t let go.

“We can definitely get ice cream. We can do whatever you want.”

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

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reidmotif · 9 months

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Behind Closed Doors

Summary: Reader and Spencer are known to be a "tame" couple at work. They get fed up and decide to change how people see them.

Request: Reader and Spencer (in an established public relationship) where they don't do any PDA and you can hardly tell they're a couple. Reader and Spencer get offended, and decide to fool around to get caught.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: Reader POV, established relationship, semi-rough sex, dirty talk, heavy making-out, unprotected sex, semi-public sex

Word Count: 4.8k

Dating Spencer Reid, in a word, could honestly be described as a dream.

When I’d started a career at the BAU, the last thing on my mind was dating, let alone dating my coworker, but Spencer Reid had subtly woven himself into the corners of my heart with his idiosyncrasies and musings, all without my awareness- and when he'd asked me out? Saying ‘yes’ was the easiest thing I’d ever done my entire life.

He was ridiculously old-fashioned, and I loved it. He insisted on dinner dates and opening doors for me at any possible opportunity, and I was happy to let it happen. He was a gentleman at every turn, and made me feel special in ways no one had before. If I wasn’t already hopelessly infatuated with the man prior to our relationship, I certainly was now.

A year of dating, a year of loving Spencer Reid, and I honestly couldn’t see my life without him. We’d grown our lives around each other in little ways at first, and it resulted in us being tangled up in the sweetest way imaginable.

And while my memory isn’t as capable as my boyfriend’s, I can recall in perfect clarity about how fucking good he is in bed. It shouldn’t have surprised me like it had the first time we had sex, but when he had me pinned down to his mattress, pounding into me unlike anyone before him, touching me whilst whispering dirty nothings in my ear, I knew I was a goner. It was simply another facet of Spencer Reid that further cemented my enduring captivation to the man.

Of course, there were rules when it came to our relationship, considering that even for a blissfully happy couple, we still worked together. Spencer loved having his hands on me, whether it was innocent or not, but when it came to the BAU and public displays of affection, there was a mutual understanding between the two of us that some things were simply kept private.

Which is why as we stood in the bullpen, side-by-side, we exchanged horrified looks when the surprise seminar that morning was about “inappropriate workplace relationships”. To our knowledge, we’d always kept the romance to a minimum in the office, stealing a kiss here and there when no one was around, or a squeeze of the hand, but nothing beyond that. However, as the moderator for the training began, we both sighed a breath of collective relief as she brought up some suspiciously specific scenarios, realizing today’s seminar was not in fact about us, but rather our coworkers, known for their raunchy telephone escapades, two of our coworkers who were most definitely not in a relationship.

As we trickled out of the room, exchanging giggles about the very awkward display we were made to watch just now, a very mortified Penelope Garcia approached us.

“Who blabbed?” She asked, adorably frantic as Spencer and I simply smiled and shrugged.

“Wasn’t us.” Spencer said, a bit and gesturing to me and him. He put his hand on my shoulder and I instantly felt relaxed with the comforting weight of him on me. I gave my own chuckle, naturally bringing my hand up to touch Spencer’s as I responded to Penelope.

“I mean, you and Derek aren’t exactly quiet about what you do over the phone.” I said, a little mischievously. “I mean remember when Strauss picked up and-” I started, only to be met with Penelope placing a distressed finger over my lips, hurrying to silence me before I finished my sentence.

“Shh! I thought we promised to never speak of that godforsaken incident ever again!” Penelope whisper-shrieked, only to be met with my grin.

“My bad.” I say, while trying to soothe Penelope. I then got a little serious, moving from Spencer’s subtle touch to get closer to her. “It’s not that bad, Pen. I’m sure everyone will forget in due time.” I said, in my most assuring tone. Unfortunately, Penelope didn’t seem very swayed.

Derek walked to where we were standing and chatting, coming to protectively wrap his arm around a very miserable looking Penelope.

“Did I just hear you say ‘it isn’t that bad’?” Derek said, using air quotes for his imitation of me, laughing as he pulled Penelope closer to him. He continued, “Because from where I was, you and boy genius looked pretty worried for a second.”

Spencer answered a little defensively, “I mean, obviously.” He replied. “We’re the only ones in the BAU in a public relationship and it’s a surprise seminar on inappropriate relationships, why wouldn’t we think it’s about us?” He explained, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head a little.

“Because you two don’t even look like a couple!” Penelope said, still sorrowful from her unexpected callout. “Of course it’d never be about you two!”

“What?” I say, now matching Spencer’s defensive tone from before. “It totally could be about us! And we do look like a couple.” I say, crossing my arms and standing beside him now.

“Sorry pretty girl.” Derek speaks up, “But Penelope is right. I don’t even think I’ve seen the two of you hold hands or kiss around any of us.”

Spencer sputtered a little at that, “Obviously! We’re at the workplace!” He says, in a higher pitched tone, fortifying his stance against Derek’s allegations. "It's common to not show PDA in professional settings."

“True love waits for nothing, Einstein.” Derek teases, and then he laughs again. “Pipe down, Reid. I’m only joking.” Spencer seemed to retract his opposing stance reluctantly, but then Derek added, “You and (Y/N) shouldn’t worry about being appropriate in the workplace, you know? You’re both more than proper when you're in or out of here.” He said, winking, speaking with a knowing tone.

Spencer groaned at that, but before he could retort and deny Derek’s assessment of our relationship, Derek whisked Penelope away, presumably to console her further over today’s events, leaving me and Spencer just standing there. He looked a little on edge, and I placed a hand over his shoulder, squeezing it softly. I could instantly sense the words, on some level, had gotten to him, and wanted to nip his self-doubt and nervous spiral in the bud before it could even begin.

“You know he was just joking, right?” I say, speaking gently.

“I know.” Spencer responded, a little bitterly. “I just.” He stopped, taking a breath before continuing. “I just hate that’s how they see us, you know?” He says, frowning.

“Well, trust me, Spence.” I say, in an attempt to cheer him up. “This relationship has been anything but proper from the moment we’ve been together.” I say this with a small smirk, hoping he’d catch onto the scandalous undertones of my words, which he did.

He smiled a little, before murmuring, “Thanks.” I smiled back, and let my hand drop from his shoulder again.

“C’mon, we got a case.” I say, and he dutifully followed me into the round-table room, the previous interaction with Derek seemingly wiped away from his mind for the rest of the day.

It wasn’t until a few days later, in the comfort of Spencer’s apartment, (which was honestly ours, at this point) where he spoke up about the incident again. He was lazily playing with my hair as I was sprawled on his couch, my eyes closed with my head in his lap, a documentary of Spencer’s choosing playing in the background. Truthfully, I was more focused on his fingers lightly trailing over my scalp, the sensation lulling me into a state of deep relaxation and serenity, rather than the droning voice of the narrator, until his voice broke my thoughts.

“I just don’t know why Derek would say that.” He remarked, out of nowhere.

“Say what, baby?” I say, opening my eyes slightly. I tried to remember if we’d mentioned Derek at all tonight, and when my memory came up short, I squinted, trying to think, “What are we talking about, again?” I attempted to actually look at him from my lower angle, reading his expression for any clues.

“You know.” He says, continuing to play with the silky strands of my loose hair, “The thing about us being a boring couple.”

Memories of the interaction came to mind, and I nodded and let out a noise of realization. “Ah, yeah. From the sexual harassment seminar.” I closed my eyes again, and laid back in his lap. “What about it, love?”

“It didn’t bother you?” Spencer commented, and I opened my eyes yet again, to see the face of a man who clearly hadn’t brushed off the comment like I thought he had, days ago.

“I mean, not really, baby.” I say, carefully, trying to not offend him. “But it’s okay if you felt bothered- but I really do think Derek didn’t mean anything by it.” I say, moving out of his lap so I could better see his face.

“Yeah, I guess.” He says, quirking his mouth to the side. “I just hate that they think we’re boring or-”

“Even though we both know we definitely aren’t?” I say, laughing a bit.

“Exactly.” He responds, with a little bit of a smile. “I just wish we could somehow, I don’t know. Stick it to them? Does that sound petty?” He says, chuckling now, and rubbing the back of his neck in slight embarrassment.

“Not at all.” I say, quickly. “But it’s not like we can just, you know, start sucking face in the bullpen.” I joke, with a giggle.

“That we cannot.” He replies, his mood seemingly a little more uplifted from when we began our conversation. “Still.” He says, pursing his lips.

An idea came to my mind, and I grinned a little at the thought of it. I wanted to make my boyfriend feel better, to let him know at the very least nothing about him bored me in the slightest.

“Spence.. what if we did anyway?” I say, coming closer to him with an excited lilt in my words.

“Make out in front of all of our colleagues?” Spencer replies, with a chuckle. “(Y/N), I love you, but no way.” He says, immediately shutting me down, but I shook my head.

“No, like more than that.” I respond, quickly, as the gears in my head begin to turn. “What if we like.. pretend to have sex in a closet, let them think they know what’s going on in there, and walk out, totally unscathed.” I continue, a playful glint in my eyes.

It sounded absolutely crazy, but I could tell he was definitely considering it, especially susceptible to an idea like this one after what had happened a few days ago.

“But we wouldn’t actually be having sex- right?” Spencer says, cautiously. “Just… pretending?” He adds, adorably, biting his lip.

“Yeah.” I respond, instantly, soothing his worries. “Trust me, having sex in a closet in a federal building seems like a pretty solid fantasy, but I’m okay with leaving that to our imaginations for now.” I say, smiling a little wildly. “So is that you agreeing to it?” I question, looking at him eagerly.

“I guess it is.” He says, the look on his face now matching the enthusiasm on my own, and he leaned over to plant a soft kiss on my lips. I immediately melted into him, moving to straddle his lap, smiling into each press of his lips against mine. His hands went to my hips, a broken moan escaping him as I felt myself move against a fast-forming bulge underneath me. He breathlessly pulled back, licking his lips.

“Mm." He said, breathing a little heavier now. "What would you say to a practice round for our pretend session tomorrow- you know, just to get it right?” He murmurs, feeling his cocky grin against my lips.

“Do you even have to ask?” I retort, smirking.

My words barely left my mouth before he flipped me onto the couch, leaving me giggling delightfully and sighing with pleasure, as I felt him start a trail of wet, hot kisses down my neck, eliciting soft moans and whimpers that only spurred him on to do more to me.

I closed my eyes with a dazed grin on my face as he continued his actions, knowing he’d take care of me tonight. Spencer Reid, without a doubt, was definitely the best boyfriend I’d ever had.

That morning in his apartment, Spencer was all smiles, even more touchy than he was normally if that was possible. He languidly wrapped his arms around my waist as I brushed my teeth, placing little kisses on the back of my neck as I tried not to laugh with toothpaste in my mouth.

“Someone’s happy today.” I spoke, or at least attempted to speak, whilst he attacked any exposed skin of mine with his soft lips.

“Mm.” He grumbled deeply behind me, never once letting up on the task he’d delegated to himself: to somehow kiss every inch of my body before we even left the apartment.

“Maybe I’m excited about what we’ll be doing today.” He replies, clearly very satisfied with what we’d decided the previous night.

There was a closet in Quantico, just off the hallways. It wasn’t an active hallway bustling with people, but oftentimes agents would come and go through there, and we both decided it provided just enough privacy so that people wouldn’t actually try to come into the closet- but open enough that at least one or two people were bound to hear us, and hopefully ease any concerns anyone had about Spencer and I being a “proper” couple.

I giggled. “You know Spence.” I move away a little to spit my toothpaste out and rinse my mouth. “You’re a bit more of an exhibitionist than I pegged you for.” I said, a giggle in my voice.

He wrapped me up in his arms, bringing me as close as he possibly could. “Sure I am.” He mumbled in a sarcastic tone, kissing the top of my head.

I smile, speaking into his chest, trying to hold back my laughter. “I don’t hear you denying it.”

“Shhh.” He said, before letting me go with a smile on his face. “We’re not even actually having sex in the closet. It doesn’t count.” He called out, biting his lip with a boyish smile, the type that made me want to jump his bones here and now.

“Whatever you say!” I respond, with a sing-song voice, flashing him a grin before going to get changed for work.

Throughout the day, I could see Spencer just itching to carry out our plan. He kept making those eyes at me and I’d shake my head, silently communicating that now wasn’t the time. I could see him grumble and lean back in his desk chair, barely able to focus on his work. I giggled at the thought. My genius boyfriend, unable to do simple tasks because the idea of faking sex to get back at our coworkers rendered him stupid.

As Emily would say, “An IQ of 187 slashed to 60.”

Finally, after lunch, and less eyes were on either of us, I subtly caught his gaze, tilting my head in the general direction of the closet, and he nearly leapt from his seat. I silently thanked the Gods above that he didn’t draw anyone’s attention, what with how eager he was acting, as we quietly made our way towards the closet. As soon as we were out of the bullpen, and the long, empty hallways of the BAU, he laughed as he unexpectedly stole a long, passionate kiss from me, his lips pressing against mine insistently. I pulled away after a few seconds, thrilled.

“What was that for?” I ask, with a dazed grin on my face as he continues to walk me to the place of our imminent rendezvous, nearly dragging me there by a firm grip of his hand in mine.

“I can’t kiss my girlfriend?” Spencer retorts, smugly.

“Oh, you can kiss her.” I responded eagerly. “I am not complaining whatsoever. Just curious." I said, squeezing his hand lovingly.

He quickly pressed his lips against mine one more, so quickly I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it. "I'm just excited, I think." He responded. There was a puerile smile on his face, as he led me further and further away from any of our colleagues and towards our final destination.

As he opened the closet door, he shot me one final look.

“You’re actually okay with this, right?” He asks, surprisingly soft, a stark contrast to his previously excited nature.

“Second thoughts?” I respond, raising an eyebrow.

“No, no.” He said, laughing. “I just want to be certain that you’re good with this.” He implores, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles absentmindedly. He gave a sigh, biting his lip. “I know you’re doing this for me and I-”

I immediately silence him through interruption. “Spencer. I want to do this.” I said, softly. “Please.” I add, conveying that while, yes, this was for him in some roundabout way, pretending like I wasn’t absolutely exhilarated at what we were about to do would be a gross misrepresentation of the situation.

He seemed to relax at that, grinning a little bit. He let out a little breath of air.

“Come on.” I urged. “Don’t you wanna make sure the team never calls us dull again?” I said, smirking and egging him on the best I could.

He nearly shoved me into the closet as he opened the door, with a laugh. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

He placed me in front of him, and we stood face to face in the cramped space. I could feel his breath on me, hear the beat of his heart and I knew that there was no part of me that was hesitant about this. On the other hand, Spencer seemed a bit.. confused. His smile faded, before he knit his eyebrows together. I watched him bite his lip, before pressing them together in a straight line.

“How do you fake sex in a closet?” He paused. “Do we just.. moan?” He said, tentatively, looking to me for direction.

I decided to just go for it, giving an almost pornographic moan. “Oh, yeah! Right there, oh!-”

He quickly clamped a hand over my mouth. “(Y/N), what the-”

I removed his hand with a giggle. “Come on." I urged. "Be loud, it’s what’ll work.” I say, grinning, before letting out a higher pitched moan, attempting to recreate what I normally sounded like during sex. “Yes, Spencer! Please! Please!” I moaned, closing my eyes and really getting into what we were attempting to recreate.

I could feel Spencer watching me, and heard him breathe before moaning out himself. “Yeah, you like that, you whore?” He groaned out, a little flatly, but groaned out convincingly, nonetheless and I could tell he was enjoying himself.

“Yes! Yes!” I nearly screamed out. “Fuck, you feel so good.” I moaned, in an exaggerated manner. “More, please!” I said, trying to beg just as much as I did when Spencer was actually fucking me.

We continued this back and forth for a minute or two, and I grinned internally. Anyone who happened to walk past the closet would’ve definitely heard our faked passion, and to be honest, I was into it. Having people know how well Spencer treated me, it made my heart jump, and I could feel myself clenching around nothing at the thought. My eyes were shut, as to immerse myself in the fantasy more, and my moans only got louder, pitchier, more desperate with every passing second.

It wasn’t a few moments later that I realized that I was the only one making noise, Spencer going quiet, and I noticed the absence of his soft breathing that was there previously. I opened my eyes, to find an incredibly wide-eyed, embarrassed Spencer, looking right at me.

“Shit, I’m sorry (Y/N).” He said, awkwardly shuffling. “I didn’t think- it’s just- your moans sound so good and-”

I knit my brows in confusion at his words before my eyes trailed down, revealing the strained fabric of his slacks, his cock tenting inside them at an alarming rate. His eyes met mine as I scanned them back up to look at him, and he stifled a groan. “Fuck.” He murmured.

“Look, you can just leave.” He said, a little defeated. “It’s fine. I’ll figure it out. I can't go out like this." He said this while already moving away from the door, motioning for me to leave.

My lips parted as I shook my head. “No.” I whispered, stepping even closer. “Fuck me. Let me help you." I murmur, placing both my hands on his shoulders and rubbing them soothingly, before starting to kiss his neck sweetly, with feather-light touches.

Spencer rolled his eyes. “(Y/N). Don’t tease me right now. Especially right now.” He whined out, craning his neck as I planted soft kisses on the skin. The rest of his body leaned into me, desperately seeking the relief my touch brought him.

When I began sucking at a particularly sensitive spot of his, I earned a throaty moan from him, his head thrown back, and his hands grabbing my waist and pressing our bodies flush together.

"I'm not teasing." I mumble against him. "I want you."

“Fuck. I’m serious. I’m this close to just-” He spoke, his voice low, but I didn’t want him to be logical about this. I wanted this now. I interrupted his words with a deep, long kiss.

It seemed to work, his lips crashing into mine, over and over again, like this would be the last time we could ever savor the taste of the other again. As grabbed my face, lips moving ferociously over mine, his grip shifted so he could pin me up against the wall. I moaned into his mouth as his hands trailed down, squeezing the fat of my hip unexpectedly, and he used it as an opportunity to slip his tongue in, lazily exploring my mouth with his own. When we finally pulled back for air, I whispered against his lips.

“Do it. Please.” I croaked, already grabbing the fabric of his shirt. “Please, fuck me Spencer. Use me. I need you right now.” I wanted to sound as desperate as I felt, the heat between my legs growing unbearable at this point, my clit already wildly throbbing with need.

“We’re in a closet. Someone could catch us." He quietly groaned out, but I could see the restraint leaving his body with every moment he looked at me. He looked wrecked already, hair strown about messily, his lips red and swollen, chest moving up and down. The only sounds in the closet at this point were my pants and his heavy breathing to accompany it. He took another look at me, my eyes blown out and pleading for him, and it seemed like every barrier in his body suddenly broke.

With no warning, he spun me around so my back would be towards him, pushing me up against the wall as he hurriedly worked away the button of my jeans. I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter with anticipation, and when he worked my underwear down my legs, I could sense that I was already dripping, even though he'd barely touched me.

He seemed to be doing the same undressing to himself, working at his slacks with his deft fingers, and I whimpered when I felt his heavy cock slot between me, the head of his tip running through my folds. I could feel how needy I was for him in this moment, and he seemed to enjoy the sight of my legs spreading just for him. He leaned over to let his finger trail over my slit, collecting some of my arousal on my finger. My thighs immediately quivered at the sensation, a loud moan escaping my lips.

I felt him grab the back of my skull, forcing me to bare my face to hip.

“Open.” He commanded, and my mouth hung open, almost as if I was under a spill. He roughly shoved his finger into my mouth, and I understood, closing my lips around them, swirling my tongue around his digits, praying that he’d fuck me soon.

“Good girl.” He said, smoothly, and I nearly fell over from how weak he was rendering me, but a steady grip on my hair kept me upright. When his finger was sufficiently cleaned, he removed it and kissed me once more, smashing his lips aggresively into mine. I kissed him back, but in that moment, there was really only one thing I wanted.

“Spencer, please.” I panted in between his never ending kisses. “I need you inside me.” I moaned, trying to convey the enormity of my desire for him. He chuckled at my pleads, pulling my hair so I’d be forced to look ahead of me instead. The anticipation absolutely killed me, and I brokenly moaned again, about to beg once more before he suddenly thrust into me, eliciting a yelp from my lips, which I immediately swallowed down as he began to jut his hips against mine.

“That’s it. Go on, take it.” He whispered, roughly. “You were made for this, weren’t you?” He questioned, cruelly. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” He goaded, going harder and harder with every word he uttered to me in the closet, my desperate attempts to stop my whimpers not being received well by him.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He sneered, continuing to buck against me. “Didn’t you want the whole team to know what a whore you are for me?”

I tried to keep my restraint, a low mewl escaping my lips, but that seemed to incentivize him to go even faster, the sounds of our skin slapping against each other filling the room, the smell of sex overtaking every one of my senses.

“Come on, baby. I wanna hear you.” He then groaned once more, and I could feel how bad he wanted this, how badly he wanted me. The thought made me clench around him, which elicited another moan from his mouth. “I want everyone to hear you.”

It was like a dam broke through me, and in an instant I was moaning, louder than I had that whole time in the closet, my noises marked by a carnal desire for this, for him.

“Please, oh god. Spencer- I need to cum, please.” I begged, my mouth hanging open as he fucked me dumb.

He chuckled at my loss of prudence, rewarding me accordingly. He moved his fingers down to where we were joined, beginning to rub fast, tight circles around my clit.

“Go on, then.” He murmured. His hips never once wavered, and I could feel his grip on my hips, so tight I was sure there'd be bruises tomorrow. “Come for me.”

I did, nearly toppling down as waves of my orgasm hit me, convulsing in his arms as I registered the feeling of him continuing to slam against me. I braced myself on the wall, letting him take me the way he wanted, and I could hear his broken moans and whimpers echo throughout the closet.

"Fuck. You're so good." He groaned out, and I let out a low whine at that, which transformed into a sob as he bottomed out in me, making me feel so full. In an instant, I could feel warmth flooding my deepest point, his hips beginning to slow down and still entirely. He pulled out of me, still panting.

“Holy shit.” He murmured, still panting, watching as the evidence of what we’d just done dripped down my thigh. He helped me out of my bent over position as I smiled at him, dazed.

“Holy shit, indeed.” My voice came out hoarse, scratched up from how loud I’d been screaming for him.

“Remind me why we don’t do this again?” He said, grinning and breathless.

“Something about professionalism?” I offered, still absolutely fucked out as I tried to regain some semblance in my appearance. One look at Spencer and I, and it wouldn’t take long to figure out exactly what we’d been doing.

“Yeah, somehow after that, I don’t really care about professionalism.” He said, before pulling me into one last, idle kiss. He felt safe, and it felt so good to be with him like this.

“Good.” I murmured, when our lips finally separated. “Because I don’t think I’d be able to survive if we only did this once.” I said, giggling.

“Wanna go again?” He offered, raising an eyebrow and running a hand through his hair.

Let’s just say that the closet became a frequent spot of ours after that. And with how loud I was screaming his name every single time? It’s safe to assume everyone else knew about it too.

EDIT: read part 2 (where they get caught!) here!

sorry about the wait this time around! i try to keep my fics within a week of each other, but i've got some life commitments to attend to now. (unfortunate). i hope you guys enjoyed this though!! <3 likes, reblogs, comments, are all greatly appreciated. thank you for all your support<3

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #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 y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #smut #spencer reid request #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

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k4vehrtz · 5 months

Text

⸻ YOURS, MINES, OURS

. ✦ . starring — dom!top! nanami k. / m! reader

warnings — mentions of blood due to a minor injury, soft -> mean -> soft dom! nanamin, cucking ergo exhibition bc kuna def wants to fuck you, possessive! nanami, crybaby! vessel! reader, use and variations of the word slut, established dom/sub dynamic, hole inspection, light masochism, dacryphilia, shower sex, minor daddy / sir k., implied age gap n zero prep . ✦ . wc — 1.5k . ✦ . notes — less of a fic more of a lengthy thirst bc i'm still sick but i really wanted to deliver somethin for you guys so forgive me this once 💔 happy holidays 🎄

it’s 6:15 p.m. when nanami wanders into your garden, still clad in his work attire. the first two buttons of his shirt are undone, his tie hanging loosely around his collar, and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. he’s somewhere in between tired and exhausted; dark circles rimming his almost sunken eyes but he’s not quite ready to pass out yet. he won’t give in to the heaviness of his eyes until he sees you.

and he does see you — you’re crouched in a corner, knees buried in a miniature mountain of soil, completely and utterly enthralled by the flowers in front of you.

orchids. a dark pink in the centre, although their petals are a light pink that fades into a pink-stained white colour. they vary in intensity but altogether, they’re beautiful and pink.

“they’re resilient little things, aren’t they?” he muses, his voice thick with drowsiness. which catches you entirely off-guard and has you flinching away, scraping the palm of your hand on a nearby rose bush in the process.

you wince, brows pulled together and lips jutting forward in a pout. nanami feels his heart drop, guilt settling in the pit of his stomach instantaneously.

“fuck,” he curses, a rough edge to his voice, “i’m sorry my love,” as he crouches beside you, cradling your injured hand in his much bigger, warmer palms. it’s not nearly as bad as it seemed at first; a singular scrape stretching across the expanse of your palm. but nanami does his due diligence, wiping away what little blood had appeared with his handkerchief.

“i should’ve made my—” he stops himself mid-sentence and lowers his gaze, arching a brow over the rounded rim of his glasses. “…presence known” he continues, staring pointedly at the tent in your shorts.

warmth creeps up your throat, spreading across the bridge of your nose to either cheek and the tips of your ears as you promptly cross your legs. to which nanami presses his lips together, blowing air through his nostrils.

“that — ” he starts, grimacing, “that must be uncomfortable,” as he takes a seat on the dirt floor of the greenhouse and pulls you into his lap. and you open your mouth to protest against it; he’s going to ruin his favourite slacks. but he presses a long, thick finger to your lips before you can get a word out.

he clicks his tongue, his tone morphing from the saccharine sweetness that you’re used to. nanami isn’t, by any means, harsh with you but his near-silent disapproval is enough to have you curling into yourself.

“i’m sorry,” the words tumble past your glossy lips before you even process them. and nanami responds immediately: “i’m sorry who?” his voice becomes more and more like a rumble as tiredness continues to pull at his sore muscles. but you humour him anyway, “i’m sorry sir,” which earns you a much more content-sounding rumble from the elder man.

“that’s my boy — now let’s get you taken care of inside where it’s warmer.”

skin–to–skin; nanami’s pressed firmly against you and you can’t keep your hands to yourself. cold fingers instinctively go to the curves and contours of his muscled torso; tracing the outline of it all while you chew on your lower lip. it’s hard to tell who’s more enamoured by the other but if you had to think about it (like really hard) you’d say nanami is.

“what are you thinking so hard about silly boy?”

your nose crinkles and a muscle in nanami’s jaw twitches at the sound of the third voice. it’s nothing like the silky-smooth voice that makes your heart flip-flop in your chest. but it has its appeal and is welcomed nevertheless.

“‘kuna i’m not —” you try but he interjects: “liar.” and you have half the mind to argue with him but nanami clears his throat, thick finger curling beneath your chin so that you’re made to meet his gaze.

he’s staring down at you, warm water from the shower overhead dripping from the edges of his hair. his gaze intent as he pushes you against the cold tiles on the wall. there’s a stark contrast between the two temperatures; one that makes goosebumps appear on your skin and provides a twisted sense of pleasure. but that too is welcomed.

“none of that,” and he clicks his tongue again, his distaste for the mouth that had appeared on the back of your palm as clear as day. sukuna, though, grits his teeth and you can’t help but think to yourself that the only thing they have in common is their distaste for each other.

“your blind devotion to a man who could never satiate you is beyond my comprehension,” sukuna smirks, “a slut like you needs a real man to fuck them right.”

a slut.

an onslaught of tears blurs your vision and nanami leans in, warm breath fanning your face. then he sucks in another breath, taking in the floral scent of your shampoo, before exhaling slowly. “did you hear that baby? ‘kuna thinks you’re a slut.” he whispers, emphasizing the nickname in the most condescending way he could. and you nod quietly, obediently in response. staring up at him with those big, innocent eyes of yours that looks the prettiest when it’s wet with unshed tears.

“i know my boy’s got a greedy hole on him,” he continues matter–of–factly, “i mean look at his cock, started leaking back in the greenhouse ‘cause of my voice and now it’s fully hard because you called him a slut.” completely unbothered by the quiet whimper you let out.

and silence — sukuna doesn’t say anything, lips pulled into a tight line. but this does little to discourage nanami who spins you around so that you’re pressed against the tiles, sensitive pecs to glazed clay and your back to him. then he’s pulling your legs apart, spreading your cheeks so that your winking hole is exposed to him.

“in fact, let’s both look at this slutty hole that i fill with my cum as often as i like because, if i recall correctly, you’re resigned to watching.”

quiet whimpers that bounce off of the tiles turn into sultry mewls. he’s being so mean, his voice dropping by an octave or two, and it makes your cock throb. he’s crouching behind you so that he’s at eye–level with your hole and you can’t help but gasp when a thick finger is pressed against it. then he pushes it in, it’s dry and it burns but it’s (like everything else) welcomed without complaint.

“do you see that?” nanami asks, it’s a rhetorical question and even then, not directed at you whatsoever but you find yourself nodding along to whatever he says anyway. “the way it winks at me? that’s because it missed me and the way that it stretches and clenches around me? that’s because i’m the only one who can touch him like this.”

sultry mewls turn into pornographic sobs. the way that he describes everything has your stomach in knots. it’s no longer a want but rather a need. you need him inside of you but he’s taught you better than this — you need to use your words to get what you want.

so, you do, voice breathy as you try to form words in between needy cries. salty tears trickling down your warm cheeks as you string a sentence together. “i need you,” you croak, glancing over your shoulder at him, lips quivering.

and he coos at the sight of you, removing his finger before standing upright and cupping your cheeks. “that’s right, look at daddy, only i can make you feel better, hm?” to which you nod in response and his smile widens, “where do you need me, my love? show daddy.”

you swallow the lump in your throat as you nod again — immediately spreading yourself wide open with your fingers. presenting yourself like this to him, tears and all, is second nature to you. it comes naturally which he thoroughly enjoys.

and nanami groans at the sight of your hole as if it’s his first time seeing you like this and within seconds, he’s aligning the angry tip with your entrance. he brings his lips to your ears, his breath tickling the sensitive skin and sending warmth to your crotch. “it’s going to hurt a little,” he warns, leaning forward to press gentle kisses to your tear-stained cheeks as he pushes himself inside.

he was right, it does hurt. it hurts like a bitch and it takes some time for you to adjust. nanami’s just so big; he makes you feel so full. but after he bottoms out and slowly finds his rhythm you know you’re a goner. pain and pleasure — you don’t know where one ends and the other begins but it feels good nevertheless.

you’re content babbling as he pistons his hips, balls colliding with the curve of your ass every time he thrusts into you. it’s all you need and all it takes for your cock to begin spurting ropes of cum as he assaults your prostate.

#x male reader smut #x bottom male reader #nanami x male reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #jjk x y/n #x sub male reader #jjk x male reader #nanami kento #nanami smut

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cozycottagetarot · 2 months

Text

PAC: Your Person's Appearance

What Are Their Vibes & Characteristics?

PILE 1 (Source) | PILE 2 (Source) | PILE 3 (Source)

This was supposed to be a quick reading but idk what happened 🤨. I apologise if it's scattered though I think I saw that every time 😅.

Anyways, this reading covers your person's vibes they give off as well as any notable features about them. As always this reading is for entertainment purposes only. ✨

Version 1 Of This Reading

PAC Reading Masterlist | Paid Readings

PILE 1

Initial Impressions: Dark features, intelligent look, balanced masculine and feminine energies, ambitious, helpful, burnout, (Mount) Vesuvius, mystical, dreamy, starry-eyed, intuitive, regal, physically fit, wish fulfilment, hope, they brighten up the room, a new beginning, secure.

Vibes You May Pick Up On:

They have a quiet confidence. Even if they don’t say much of anything, you can sense their self-assuredness. They could be in a position of power career-wise where they oversee others or an operation but I don’t think that it’s something they’re particularly happy about or take lightly. People may think it’s all fun and games for them but actually, it’s quite the opposite. They could actually be quite lonely despite their work. They could have left home and they can’t return to it. They carry a heaviness with them. Working on themselves and levelling up. Focused. Lost in thought. Optimistic. They could exude a sense of hope and magic, just being in their presence may boost your mood. Busy. Moving from one thing to the next. Coffee shop vibes. Proportionate body. Someone new that you’re manifesting. You two could meet at a time of change and transformation in one or both of your lives. If you’re accustomed to unhealthy relationships or drawn to people that aren’t good for you, this is the opposite. They might not even look like they used to. They’ll have a very nice body… you may really like their legs. They may wear clothes that expose a part of their body... particularly their chest. Nurturing energy. I think you may just kind of know or you’ll feel a sense of peace.

Notable Characteristics:

Hair colours are pretty diverse— you’ve got black, red, blonde and grey (or platinum that came to me as well) hair. They could have curly or kinky hair types. The only one that came out for face shapes was square. Their eyes may be hooded or they may have a monolid. They could have a broad or roman shaped nose. When it comes to their mouth. They could have a cupid’s bow and thin lips, straight teeth and they may smirk a lot or their smile looks like a smirk. The last few physical things are they might be on the shorter side or shorter than you and they could have scars or a skin condition (eczema, vitiligo, etc). Their voice may be smooth or animated. Their style could be very aesthetic or vintage and they may wear a lot of formal/business wear. They may come across as quiet/reserved, intelligent and charismatic.

You can check out the discarded version of this pac here for any additional insights HOWEVER LOOK AT PILE 2!

If you enjoyed this reading check out my other readings here. You can also check out my paid readings as well if you're interested in getting a personalised reading

PILE 2

Initial Impressions: Symphony by Clean Bandit feat Zara Larson came to me, Someone you’re destined to meet.. the one who got away or someone who’s unforgettable from day one, dangerous look, security, a strong appearance, protective, fierce, a wish fulfilled, a musician, someone who moves with fluidity, muse, not the knight you expect, a little bit closed off

Vibes You May Pick Up On:

They may try to stay under the radar, but I think that may be a little hard… at least when it comes to you. You may need some help with them though, as in getting a relationship started. There’s a wildness to them but it might get them in trouble so they try to tame themselves (I also hear tame their desire for adventure). They may not look like their stable but they are and they worked hard for what they have. I think this person may look focused… a little bit scruffy or dishevelled if they’re a man. I felt like you may be cautious of them but I think that they may also come across as guarded and cautious of others. There’s definitely a sense of maturity to them and wisdom. Highly perceptive. They could have multiple ear piercings. You could meet this person by chance. In one of the previous versions (see the end of your pile’s reading) I think I wrote that you two might meet in a way ‘only the divine could have orchestrated’. I don’t know how to describe it, but it may not be a meeting you could have ever thought to dream of/up. I think of wolves when I think of this person based on the cards as well. They may have a tough exterior, not easily approachable. They’re everything you want whether or not you know or see it at first. They may carry a lot of stress. Actually very passionate and inspiring. A diamond in the rough or a lamp that needs polishing.

Notable Characteristics

Short, curvy (I also remember picking up on husky at one point in a prev version), they could wear glasses but prefer to wear contacts. For hair, you guys have a good set of cards so their hair may be a significant feature. The cards around hair were— wavy, unique cut/style, afro (or puffy hair), salt & pepper, short hair, blonde, grey hair, long hair, and straight hair. For facial hair, it’s either clean-shaven or a beard. Their face shape could be round, square or diamond-shaped. For lips, they could have a cupid’s bow. They could have brown or green eyes or their eye colour may look unique. Their voice could be youthful or higher in pitch or on the opposite end deep. You also got smooth and they could have a foreign accent (whatever that means to you). Lastly, some impressions about this person are they may come across as confident, charismatic, quiet/reserved and professional/polished.

You can check out the discarded versions of this PAC here for any additional insights HOWEVER LOOK AT PILE 1! Discard 1 (all piles) | Discard V.2 (your pile only)

If you enjoyed this reading check out my other readings here. You can also check out my paid readings as well if you're interested in getting a personalised reading.

PILE 3

Initial Impressions: Vibes of being a player. Not being from around the same location. Something about their eyes. A rake. Large and in charge. Good with words or a sweet talker. Lively. Someone not to be tied down. Awakening something with you. Happy. Young. Naive. Sociable. Could be from somewhere warm or they could make you warm. Strong. Visually impaired? Intuitive… like they know the "secrets of the universe”. Jewellery may be significant. Wanderer. Hands. Might wear lots of prints. Rings. Marriage material. They could be a risk taker or look like a risk you’re willing to take. They may be quite flamboyant which might resonate a lot if you’re more reserved in how you dress or present yourself to the world. Grey hair. Frustrating. Baby Charli XCX.

Vibes You May Pick Up On:

They might come across as slightly immature and before some of you roll your eyes, immaturity doesn’t always show up as a negative. It could be a playfulness to them that makes you think they haven’t really lived and explored life yet. They may give off the vibe that pursuing them is a risk of some kind on your part. You might feel like you’ve got to be very careful about pursuing them or allowing them to pursue you.

They could look like a social butterfly. An infectious vibe or personality. They may light up the room. For a lot of you, I feel like I’m viewing this person in an educational or work setting and like watching them from afar interact with other people. They could look like a drifter. One dynamic I’m picking up on as well is your person being the type of person willing to pack up and go anywhere on a whim while you may be more cautious and the type to need a plan first. They’ll say ‘runaway with me’ and look at you expectantly while your head and heart battle. They may seem very creative or flamboyant. There’s a sense of home or familiarity too. Not sure how you’re going to get the final cut of this atm, but I definitely picked that up in the first deck I used. “Your person could look familiar to you— it doesn’t necessarily mean that you know them though for half of you I think you could. I think when you see your person you may have that “Have we met before?” moment.”

Physically you may find their hands very attractive. They could be skilled in a profession where they have to use their hands a lot (mainly for crafting I’m getting this scenario) and could either hand you something or demonstrate something where you’re focused on their hands. Very attractive hands lol, this may make you blush. They could look very athletic. Very confident. They may turn your world upside down (in a freeing way I see).

Notable Characteristics

The most notable thing about your person may be their voice. I’ve made some traits/characteristics and the majority of what I got relates to voice. Some traits you’ve got for voice are: soft, smooth, deep, animated (they may speak in a way that paints a picture), youthful/high(er)-pitched voice

Their face shape could be round or oval. They could have wavy/shoulder-length hair or no hair at all. If they wear facial hair, it’d be a beard. Their nose could be upturned or described as aquiline. For eyes, they could be round or have monolids and they may have a unique eye colour. They may have full lips or crooked teeth. Freckles. Tattoos. They may look ethereal or be a boho/laid-back and/or vintage style.

You can check out the discarded version of this pac here for any additional insights.

If you enjoyed this reading check out my other readings here. You can also check out my paid readings as well if you're interested in getting a personalised reading.

#pick a card #pick a pile #pick a card reading #pick a pile reading #pick a picture #pick a picture reading #tarotblr #free reading tarot #future spouse #free tarot

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sciencebecameouraddiction · 3 months

Text

title: dancing in the rain

author: sciencebecameouraddiction

fandom: hazbin hotel

rating: PG

genre: slight, baby angst/ major fluff

pairing: Alastor x Reader

summary: all hell had was acid rain, and all you wanted was the rainstorms you knew on earth.

Rain hardly ever was an occurrence in Hell. And when it was, it was acid rain. You sighed, looking out the window and watched the green acid pouring down on everything, missing desperately the rain storms that you had on earth. Being the youngest at the hotel, you remembered more clearly the burn of the sun on your skin, the cool breeze on a fall day and even the mix of the humidity in the air that felt like it would choke you but the reprieve as a rainstorm came and fell from the heavens.

“What has you so melancholy, my dear?” A voice asked behind you, shockingly quiet all things considered, toning down the announcer quality in his voice.

“Hey Alastor, just thinking is all.” You replied and smiled at him, not wanting to explain that the acid rain made you sad.

“Now, whatever it is that you’re thinking about is casting a dark shadow over your usually lovely face. So, tell me, what’s wrong? What kind of hotelier might I be if I didn’t ensure that all the patrons here were happy?” He said, the announcer tone coming back into his voice, which made you wince. Knowing that meant he knew you were lying so he was going to put on a show if you were. You sigh.

“It’s the rain.” You explain.

“The what now?” He asks, all effects gone from his voice except shock and a bit of confusion.

“The rain. I miss the rain. Not this rain. The rain on earth. The smell of the earth after a good rain storm, the way that especially in the summer when it was so hot, the rain was a cool reprieve. It always felt like…” You trailed off.

“Forgiveness?” Alastor finished, looking outside the hotel now too. You blink and look up at him.

“Yes. Are you sure you don’t read minds?” You chuckle, resting your head on your hand. You suddenly feel his microphone tap your head. You look up at him as holds his arm out to you.

“Come with me.” He says, not giving you time to feel confused. As when you take his arm you shadow travel with him to the other side of the hotel appearing at the door of his room.

“This is your room.” You say, confused now.

“Ever observant. A skill many would kill for I’m sure.” He smiles at you, but the sarcasm is evident as he holds open the door for you and you step into his room.

“Just a certified Sherlock Holmes.” You roll your eyes, taking his sarcasm.

“I never had the chance to read those books.” He mused for a moment, as he shut his door and walked around you heading to the forest area. You stayed near the door.

“I have the collection if you’d like to borrow it and read them.” You explain. “They are annotated though, so you’ll have to put up with my notes.” You explain.

“That would be lovely, dear.” Alastor says stepping on the grass and you watch as he takes off his coat and hangs it on a coat rack that appeared suddenly. He turns to you. “Aren’t you coming?”

“I-I guess?” You say, more like a question. You jog over to him and start walking next to him. “Are you killing me in your forest because I complained about acid rain?”

“Oh, no. Not you at least.” Alastor chuckles. “I want to show you something.” You look up at him skeptically.

“Hey Alastor, can you take smaller steps?” You ask having to jog to keep up with him. He looks down and hums seeing how you were almost running next to him.

“Good to know that if I had to catch you I could do so without breaking a sweat.” He says, as he walks slower and taking smaller steps, allowing you to actually walk, instead of run.

“Har har.” You say deadpanned and roll your eyes. You walk into a clearing that has a cabin in the middle. The whole forest felt like it was shrouded in the twilight of fall when lightening bugs gently floated around and the sky was a perpetual shade of blue, purple and pink. You finally looked up and around, seeing the trees, the bugs, the animals, the sky. Tears formed in your eyes. “Alastor, this is beautiful. It looks just like-“ You stop, your throat constricting as emotion overtakes you. You feel Alastor’s clawed hand rest on your shoulder.

“Just like earth?” He finishes, speaking softer than you had ever heard. You nod and look at him, watching him take everything in and then looking down at you.

“Come, let me show you something else.” He says, walking away and heading to the cabin. You walk in and suddenly feel at home. The decor is a little dated and you feel transported to the 1920’s, but it’s all homey. There’s a kitchen, a living room, a lounge and a hall way leading to what you assumed to be a bed room. You walk through the living room, taking it in but trying not to pry at the photos Alastor had in frames along the mantel of the fire place, you see at the back door there is almost like a deck, with a more modern porch swing.

“The porch swing is a nice addition.” You mention, smiling a bit at the modern accessory in what felt like a time capsule.

Alastor chuckles as he sets his microphone down and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. He joins you next to the window. “You haven’t seen the best part.” He murmurs, unusually quiet and reserved. You don’t mention the change in demeanor though, wanting to savor the quiet and this almost more authentic view of the Radio Demon.

“What’s the best-“ You stop when you hear it. The start of a pitter patter of rain on the roof, that builds and when you look outside, it’s raining. “Is that?” You blink a few times.

“It is. Safe for you to touch as well. You won’t get hurt.” He smiles a genuine looking smile as he goes over to the record player and starts playing music. Your hand touches the door, feeling the coolness of the water slide down the glass pane. You can’t stop yourself as Alastor fiddles with the record player, you open the door, quickly closing it so no rain would get in the cabin and rush outside off the deck. Twirling in the grass as the rain poured down soaking you.

“What are you doing?” Alastor yelled from the door, watching you like you had gone mad.

“Dancing in the rain!” You yelled back, a smile feeling permanent on your face.

“You’ll catch a cold, get back inside!” He says, looking up at the sky and then back at you.

“No! Come join me! It’s amazing! This is exactly what I remember.” You say holding you hand out to Alastor. His smile looks more like a grimace as he takes you in looking like a wet dog. He looks back inside and waves his hand at something and you see towels appear and the record player is louder so you can hear it outside. He takes off his shoes and socks and places them neatly at the door but far enough away that when you come in, water or mud won’t get on them.

He walks out getting drenched almost immediately as you run up to him and grab his hand and pull him on the grass. You take both his hands and start trying to spin around in a circle with him, as you see his eyebrow raise. You stop and look at him, a little disappointed when he doesn’t spin with you and you start to let go of his hand, until his hand tightens and pulls you to him.

“We can dance in the rain, but we will be actually be dancing.” He says as he proceeds to guide you through a dance that was popular when Alastor was alive, morphing into an odd mash up of a swing dance and you dancing like you were at a rave. You both settled down and were now just slow dancing as the song had turned a bit slower. You watched as Alastor’s eyes were closed as his face angled up to the sky. You made a spit second decision, and rested your head on his chest, really it was like the start of his abdomen but it was as tall as you could reach. You didn’t see his head snap down to you and watch as you seemingly relaxed in his arms, drunk off the warmth he gave and the cool from the rain still coming down. His hand moved up, and grabbed your chin, encouraging you to look at him. As you did, you saw his eyes widen and his cheeks turn bright red.

“What’s wrong?” You ask quietly.

“I’ve never… done anything like this before.” He says quietly, and it breaks the fogginess you felt before.

“You don’t have to be scared. It’s just me.” You say, as if it’s the most simple thing in the world.

“Just you? Darling, just you is enough to have me go to war.” Alastor murmurs and then his eyes widen again, shocked. You realize that he is just blurting things out and there is no filter. You smile.

“Well, I’m honored that the Radio Demon would want to be in my corner.” You say as your hand reaches up to touch his cheek, stopping just a few centimeters away, allowing him to close the gap if he wanted to. He leans into your touch shaking his head.

“Not the Radio Demon, dear. Just Alastor.” He says, looking at you with a vulnerability you had never seen before. Your eyes widen and you smile.

“Even better.”

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor altruist #alastor/reader #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfic #alastor fanfiction

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thefantasyden · 2 months

Text

Needy Mutts

Pairing: Han + F Reader + Chan

Genre: SMUT

Warnings: Puppy play, exhibitionism, voyeurism, Dom Chris, Puppy Switch Sungie, double creampie, cum eating, oral (f receiving), oral (m receiving), hair pulling, marking, filthy dirty talk, some degradation, lots of praise, gets gentle in the end then is filthy again, slight dub con in the beginning? (established dynamic), mention of nipple play maybe?

Word Count: 2570

Summary: FILTHY Puppies jisung and Reader put on a show for their Daddy.

He couldn’t resist. You were laying on the floor scrolling through apps on your phone, completely unaware of Jisung's eyes devouring you. The underwear you had on was clinging to the outline of your pussy, highlighting your puffy lips and before he could stop himself, he was reaching out from where he sat against the couch, his arms slipping under your thighs as he move to lay on his tummy, tugging the thin fabric that was covering your core to the side so that he could lick one firm strip along your pretty pussy.

“Sungie! What are you-“

A growl vibrates against the flesh of your ass as his teeth sink into it, warning you to keep quiet and let him do as he pleases. You were the more submissive of the two of you, and he knew you’d do anything he wanted you to when you were unsupervised.

“You looked so good laying there like that.” He mumbles against your skin, lips pressing against every inch he can find. “Practically begging me to take you.”

You whimpered quietly, head falling into your hands as he lapped at your wet cunt in long, languid strokes, nibbling your thighs occasionally. You can’t help but to yelp when his thumb slides down your slit to rub circles at your clit as he continues teasing your hole with his tongue, feeling the muscles spasm as his tongue circles you.

“Daddy wouldn’t be very happy with you right now, would he?” His breath is warm against your pussy and you can only whimper in response, thoughts flooding your head of what Chris would say when he found out you were so easily influenced by Jisungs advances.

He was playing with you, working you up so that he could physically see the way your pussy was dripping for him, new waves of slick coating you just for him to lap them up like he had been lost in the desert for days and you were his oasis.

“Being so good. Letting me play with your little cunt when you know Daddy says we aren’t supposed to do this alone.

“That’s never stopped you before!” You whine with a pout before your eyes are wide, both of your heads whipping toward the door as you hear the distinct squeak of it’s hinges, Chris standing in the door way with an amused smirk on his face as he watches a very brief look of fear, followed by thought before Jisung chooses to dive back in, devouring you like a starved man with his only goal being to make you moan as loud as he could in front of your Owner.

Chris isn’t surprised, shaking his head as he kicks the door closed, slipping out of his coat and making his way to the couch behind where you’re spread on the floor, settling in as he watches the filthy show playing out in front of his eyes.

“Look at my horny little mutts.” He muses to himself, raising an eyebrow when he hears Jisung growl against your cunt. “Couldn’t even go a few hours without getting yourselves in trouble, could you.” It’s not so much a question as it is a statement of the obvious, considering this was a constant occurrence for you two.

Jisung audibly whines against your pussy, aroused by the degrading words of your Dom whilst simultaneously feeling possessive over his favourite plaything. Nobody in their right mind would expect him to keep his needy hands off you when you’re always so ready and eager to please him.

He slips two fingers into your leaking cunt, pressing down against your gspot as he sits up on his calves, rolling his eyes even though the man behind you couldn’t see it. All Chris could see was your hips pressing up to meet Jisungs fingers as you fall over the thin line between needy and desperate, only thinking about your need to be filled.

“What do you expect? Poor puppy is always wet and ready to be fucked. You’re not taking care of her, so I have to do it myself.” His words have a subtle bite to them, his free hand gripping your ass firm enough to make you hiss in pain.

Chris scoffs out a laugh, a dangerous smile tugging at his lips. “You think you’re so tough, don’t you? Think you’re such a stud, hm?” He’s taunting the younger boy, but he knows their true goal is a shared one. To have you falling apart entirely for their pleasure. He was rarely one to punish his pets for being such needy sluts. Truthfully, that’s exactly how he liked them.

“Prove it, then.” He eggs the younger boy on, his own hand slides down his body, connecting with his hard cock over his jeans and moving at an almost painfully slow pace, teasing himself as he palmed his cock through the rough fabric, his lip tugged between his teeth to suppress his groaning. “You have a pretty bitch laid out and desperate for your cock. Show us how much of a stud you are.” His voice has a roughness to it that registers even through the fog clouding your mind and it has you gasping a little louder, Jisung pulling his fingers from your aching pussy so that he can shove them into his own mouth, carefully cleaning them off before he slides them down your back, admiring the way his saliva glistens against your unmarked skin.

“Show me how well you can fuck our needy slut.” Chris puts a little extra emphasis on the degrading word for your benefit and his taunting has the desired effect, Jisung feeling his breath catch in his throat as he tugs his briefs down, Looking back at Chris and holding eye contact as he blindly teases your pussy with the tip of his cock, dragging it up and down your slit to get himself nice and wet before he presses it inside of you slowly, head thrown back against his own will as he feels the way your walls flutter as he sinks into you. He was always a little thicker than you could handle even at his size and you’re gripping at the plush rug that cushions your body against the wooden floor, the slight stretch forcing any remaining thought from your mind so that all that remains is your need to be filled and used by your favourite men.

Jisung doesn’t hesitate to press one of his palms between your shoulders, holding you down as you wriggle to try and get more of him inside you. It truly feels like forever before he’s seated flush against your ass, taking a moment to savour how well you take him in before he begins thrusting into you. He wants to tease you, to take it slow, but he can’t make himself be patient when your cunt is clinging to him, clenching around his length and begging him to pound into you.

He sets just enough of a rhythm to ensure it feels good for you, but his thrust are far from smooth as he fucks into you like he’s never felt pussy before, always losing any semblance of his composure when he has you. It was the only real evidence that he was as desperate and clumsy as you were.

“Feels good, doesn’t it Sungie? Bet she’s so tight around your cock huh? Poor thing. She’s so wet you can barely keep it in.” Chris has his zipper down at this point, cock free from his boxers and standing to attention as he fucks his fist slowly, his grip firm as he tries to mimic the way your cunt grips him when he fucks you.

“You just like watching me use her little cunt.” Jisung spits, trying to stop himself from rambling and failing miserably when he feels and hears how you react, your moans sounding pornographic as you move a hand to your chest to play with one of your nipples. You were so desperate to be touched and it made him cave almost instantly. He lets the words spill out of his mouth uncensored for your pleasure, finding himself eager to make you feel as good as he was feeling in that moment. “You love how fucking filthy she looks when she’s filled with my cum. How nasty it sounds when you finally shove your cock in her once I’m done with her holes. Fuck. Daddy. She’s so fucking wet. Feels too good. God. Need to ruin her. Please”

Both men are groaning, moans flowing freely from each one of you as you’re fucked dumb on Jisungs pretty cock, Chris moving from the couch to kneel in front of you, your tongue lolling out of your mouth when you see his cock in all it’s glory right at the perfect level for you to take it into your mouth. You knew better, of course, and would never dare to touch his cock without his permission.

“I think she wants you to ruin her, Sungie.” He coos, petting your hair gently before his fingers grab a handful. He’s only holding your head still, not tugging at all as he taps the head of his cock against your tongue, smiling sweetly as your drool for him, spit dripping down onto the carpet. You’re so fucked out at this point that you’re thanking them for being so good to you, grateful for their undivided attention.

“Dumb puppy likes to be fucked full, don’t you baby? Does it make you feel good when Sungie uses you like you’re a worthless toy? You like being our pretty fleshlight?” You try desperately to nod but the grip on your hair prevents movement and you can’t speak to answer when Chris is pressing his cock into your mouth.

“That’s our good puppy.” His voice is proud as he holds you still, not moving his hips. He lets you tease his tip with your tongue, knowing you love the feeling of having something in your mouth even more when you’re overwhelmed with pleasure.

“Gonna cum. Please. Please let me cum!” Jisung is a mess behind you, his thrust uneven and the hand on your hip digging in painfully as he moves his other from between your shoulders to the side of your neck, Chris moving his hand from your hair to allow Jisung to pull you back flush against his body, his mouth connecting with your neck to leave dark bruises, marking you possessively. He was still capable of just enough thought to stick to one side, aware that Chris would want to mark the other himself.

“So fucking pretty taking my cock. Such a tight little pussy. She takes me so fucking well, Daddy. She’s so good for us.” The words flood your ears and you clench around him intentionally, catching him off guard as his hips press hard against you, his cum filling you deep as he pants, Chris catching your lips in a tender kiss as tears prick the corner of your eyes.

Jisung is panting, struggling to catch his breath as he holds you close, eventually letting you fall forward into your Dom’s arms. He only gets a few minutes of peace before he’s being pushed away from you gently, the older boy carefully picking you up so that he can lay you on the couch and position himself over you, his pants being pushed down just a little more to avoid the uncomfortable friction of jeans rubbing against your thighs where he settles between them.

“You did so good baby. Do you think you can take a little more?” your eyes are wide and your hands are gripping his shirt, the tears now flowing freely down your cheeks. You’re pleading for him to touch you, whining to have your Daddy fill you. You could never have one of them without the other and not feel empty still after. You needed them both.

Jisung is crouched beside you now, kissing your cheeks sweetly and petting your hair as Chris drags his cock through the cum that was leaking out of you, pushing it back in as he buried his cock inside of you. He was bigger than Jisung, but you were too fucked out at this point to feel anything but pure ecstasy. Being the centre of attention always made you feel out of control and overwhelmed and they were ready and willing to soothe you, Chris pressing gentle kisses to your lips, trading off occassionally to nip at your neck just hard enough to leave marks as he rolls his hips against your own, ensuring he was fucking you nice and deep. He always wanted to take his time with you.

“You’re so good to us baby.” He coo’s between kisses, Jisung massaging your scalp firmly making you sigh with joy. “You’ve been so good for us lately. Our sweet puppy. We love you so fucking much.” His thrust become harder, keeping the same slow pace as he grinds against your gspot with intention, urging you to cum for him. He always made sure your orgasm was reserved for him, knowing that Sungie was always too eager to be able to fuck you through it properly.

He can tell my the pitch of your moans and the way you dig your nails into his hip that you want to cum, grabbing Jisungs hand and bringing it down so that he could rub circles against your clit, watching your tongues meet as he focused on keeping himself calm so that he could give you what you deserve.

“Will you cum for Daddy? I wanna watch you cum for him, Puppy. Wanna see you cum on our Daddys cock.” Jisung is whispering between messy kisses, your hands switching constantly between grabbing at Jisungs shirt and gripping Chris hip as he fucks you.

They’re both whispering filthy praises to you and your high hits you without warning, your back arching as you keen, whimpering like a hurt puppy as you’re flooded with emotion. Chris laces his fingers with yours, bringing your hand up to his mouth so that he can kiss your fingers as he fucks you through your orgasm, cooing softly when you start writhing from the overstimulation as he chases his own release.

“Doin’ so well. You can take it baby, I know you can. Just a lil more. You take Daddys cock so well, angel.” His voice is rougher and he’s lost a little of the calm demeanour he usually holds, groaning something filthy when Jisung manages to find a position that allows his tongue just enough room to lap gently at your clit which makes you squeeze the other man even tighter.

It doesn’t take long for Chris to feel his own orgasm ripping through his body, groaning and whispering his thank you’s, watching cum drip down to your ass when he pulls out. You’re crying and wriggling, the pleasure having been almost too much for you to handle.

He can’t help but feel overwhelmed with love and pride, kissing you before he whispers that he’ll be right back, leaving to get a damp cloth to clean you up just a little bit before he makes you shower.

He’s only gone for 2 minutes, and that’s all it takes for Jisung to settle himself between your thighs again, ignoring your pained begging as he tastes the mixture of their cum covering his tongue, shoving it inside you in an attempt to get more.

“I can’t leave you alone for even a second, can I?”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #straykids smut #stray kids chan smut #stray kids han smut #stray kids jisung smut #stray kids bang chan smut #han smut #han jisung smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #jisung smut #chansung smut

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moonstruckme · 3 months

Note

Hey! I know you wanted more requests for people besides the marauders so you can do this for anyone you like but maybe reader who is just soooo in love with them that anytime they do something nice for her she starts crying? Like happy tears because she's just so in love and she doesn't know how to express that. If you don't want to that's fine!

Hi, thank you! I decided to go with Sirius anyway because I felt like he'd be the most fun. (This is gonna be me btw, the first time I experience romantic love there's no way I'm gonna be able to handle it)

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“Do you think it’s a bad idea to show off my tattoos on the first day?”

“Mm, maybe,” you muse, looking longingly at the way Sirius’ inked-up forearms pair with his black dress shirt. “I feel like after the interview it won’t matter, but today you probably want to present your straightest-laced self.”

“Gross,” he grunts, but starts rolling down his sleeves.

It’s a rare sight, Sirius up before noon, but his job interview is scheduled for ten and he doesn’t feel in a position to negotiate. The frail morning light bounces off the full length mirror he’s standing in front of and illuminates the room as he purses his lips and starts unbuttoning his shirt. You’re lying on the bed watching him get ready, trying your very best not to look enthralled and wanton (it is a constant effort).

“My most gorgeous, radiant angel, could I ask you for a favor?”

You grin, warmth flooding your chest. “You don’t have to butter me up. What is it?”

“Grab the bigger version of this shirt? I think I may want a baggier tuck.”

You hum and get up, padding into the closet. Sirius’ clothes are all strewn over the floor and dresser, but miraculously the shirt you’re looking for is on a hanger. As you reach for it, you nearly trip over a small box on the floor. It looks like the shell of something Sirius was sent in the mail, plain cardboard with the shipping label torn off. You bring it back out with you.

“Thanks, lovely,” Sirius says as he takes the hanger from you.

“No problem,” you reply. “Want me to recycle this for you?”

He turns to look, blinks, then looks harder. “No. Where’d you find that?”

“On the floor.”

“Must have fallen off its shelf.” He discards the smaller shirt on the bed and starts doing up the buttons of this new one, smirking when your eyes track the deft movements of his fingers. “Don’t throw it out, it’s got important stuff in it.”

You weigh the box in your hand. “It feels empty.”

“It’s got important, lightweight stuff in it.”

You eye the barely-open flap of the box, intrigued. “Can I look inside?”

You think you catch a flicker of hesitation across Sirius’ features, but it’s quickly schooled into insouciance. A vine of nervousness winds around your gut. “Sure,” he says, “go ahead.”

You look at him a bit longer before slowly peeling back the cardboard flap. Inside is a mishmash of things. Paper, mostly, but you recognize one item immediately. It’s a flimsy, neon orange paper wristband, a venue’s name stamped haphazardly onto one side. At the first concert you’d gone to together, Sirius had griped endlessly about how the orange contrasted with his outfit horribly and brought out all the ugliest hues of his skin (there aren’t any, but you were too timid to tell him that at the time). He’d seemed desperate to be rid of it. But here it is, carefully clipped off instead of torn and preserved like something special. Something warm and weighty blooms in your chest.

You take out one of the pieces of paper, unfolding it. It’s your handwriting, thoughtless scribbling you’d left for him to find on the fridge one day after you’d left for work. Have a great day, love you.

Another is a bar napkin, containing a whole back-and-forth exchange between you and Sirius from the first time you’d met his friends. You’d kept passing it to him under the table, asking Do they like me? Are they just being nice? Is Remus always so frowny? and he’d passed it back saying Yes. Yes, they love you. James is this nice to everyone, but I can tell he likes you. Remus is being a sourpuss because he hasn’t eaten yet. You’re perfect.

By the time you come upon a polaroid you’d forgotten he’d taken of you in his kitchen, you’re pressing your lips together to keep them from wobbling and your entire being feels warmed by incandescent, aching fondness. Your heart feels so big you can’t breathe around it. You’re not sure you have room for this much love, but you’ll happily carry it around like a weight in your chest for the rest of your life.

You’re all too aware that Sirius is watching you now, so you try to keep it together for his sake, but when you blink a tear slides down the side of your nose.

“Hey,” he chides lightly, amusement inlaid with a bit of panic. “Don’t.”

You sniffle, then laugh wetly. “Can I hug you?”

Normally he might make a joke (Not if you’re going to get snot all over my interview shirt) but something in your expression must sway him, because Sirius’ eyes go soft. “Yeah, baby. Of course.”

He doesn’t make you get up, crossing the distance to the bed and wrapping you up in his arms. You let out a little sob at the contact.

“I’m gonna clean off your shirt once we’re done,” you promise, gripping his shoulders.

“Okay.” He sounds amused.

“I just—I didn’t know you kept this stuff.”

“It’s cheesy.”

“It’s not,” you insist, hugging him tighter. It makes you happy beyond words, to know you’re bringing this out in him. To see, with your own eyes, how much he loves you back. You can check in with yourself at any time and know you’re happy in your relationship with Sirius, but you never could have imagined how spectacular it would feel to know that you make him this happy in return. “It’s special, Sirius. You’re special.”

“James’ mum used to tell me the same thing.”

“Oh, shut up.” You smack his arm, pulling back with a huff. You’re smiling, though, and he sees, taking your wet, blotchy face between his palms and grinning at you. Honestly, if he weren’t Sirius Black, he’d be such a dork.

“I love you,” he says, a significance in his tone that contradicts the playfulness in his expression. “Do I let you forget it?”

“No,” you tell him. “You don’t, it’s just…I just really love you too, you know?”

His smile spreads, flashing canines the second before he pulls you in for a kiss. It’s firm and spirited, and Sirius holds you there until you’re laughing into his mouth.

“I know,” he says, pecking you once more on the lips before letting you go with a swipe of his thumbs across your cheeks. “Alright, gorgeous, clean me up, would you? I’ve got other people to go impress.”

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azsazz · 4 months

Text

Midnight Muse (Part 14)

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: 3,355

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Masterlist]

Notes: Okay I'm a lil sad for my baby azzy in this part 😭

_________________________________________

“Listen kid,” the tattoo artist across the table from him sighs, and Azriel already knows what’s going to come out of his mouth.

This interview hadn’t been going well since he stepped through the door to Steppes Ink. The guy who was supposed to be conducting the interview for an apprenticeship at the parlor—a lanky lad tatted up with the worst ink Azriel’s ever seen…is that a clock dripping blood for fucks sake?—had forgotten he was even giving an interview today.

He—Brad? Chad? Something or other, he suspects—hadn’t listened to a word Azriel said when he spoke about his time tattooing. That it was his passion. That he wants to make a career out of it. Instead, the guy had kicked his sneaker clad feet up onto the edge of the table and flipped through his portfolio, not allowing Azriel to speak on his work.

He’d seen the look the fucker had given him when he’d pulled his portfolio out of his bag. The way he stared openly at his latex gloved hands as he held the book out, stuffed full of drawings and pictures of tattoos he’s given both at parties and his art focused study groups.

Azriel thinks it’s an impressive show of skill, but this fucker doesn’t.

He doesn’t even want to apprentice here anyway, not after all of this, but he’s running out of tattoo parlors to apply to in town. He’s not against driving out to the next town over because he has a reliable source of transportation, but driving all the way out after his classes is something he’d rather not have to do.

Azriel sets his jaw. He’s more than ready to pack his things and leave, maybe swing a fist at the fucker on his way out. He had been ready to go when the second comment out of this shithead's mouth was, “Taking cleanliness to a whole new level there, ey kid?” In response to his gloved hands. He’s glad he’d worn them, because he knows if he hadn’t, it would’ve been something much more insulting spewing from his lips instead.

He’s had better interviews with the same result. The fact that he keeps putting himself through this shows his determination, but Azriel would be lying if he said that the plethora of no’s he receives wasn’t disheartening. He feels like he’s come a long way since his accident, when he’d essentially had to relearn how to hold his pencils, charcoal sticks, and tattoo gun.

All of that pride he felt is slowly deteriorating like an ages old painting.

“I think you’re very talented with your sketches, but it’s not translating into your tattoos,” the man starts, scratching his patchy beard. He sucks his teeth, but it doesn’t help get rid of the cluster of food jammed between them that Azriel has been talking to for the past forty minutes. Yeah, he really does not want to work here. Not only is this guy disgusting, he’s seen at least three violations the second he walked into the parlor alone.

Imagine if he had to put up with this shit everyday.

The man continues, because he doesn’t really know how to shut up. “Your lines are all jagged, and we can’t have that. I’d be happy to look at your work again next semester when you have a little more experience.”

No. Fucking. Thanks.

Azriel grinds his teeth because he doesn’t know what else to do. How many times has he heard this line before? He knows, Mother help him he fucking knows that his lines aren’t the straightest, but he’s come a long way, and his more recent tattoos aren’t suffering because of it.

Why won’t anyone just give him a fucking chance?

“I understand,” Azriel nods, and it takes a lot more effort to keep his tone neutral when he replies.

He’s thankful that the guy can’t see how white-knuckled his fists are under the table.

“What made you want to get into tattooing, anyway?” The man flips his portfolio shut with a harsh snap. The way he says it makes Azriel feel like he’s about to be told that he should find a backup plan. He has one already, but this fucker doesn’t need to know that.

Who does this guy think he is anyway? He has a bleeding clock and a lion head on his arm for fucks sake. It even has a mechanical eye. And he’s sure that if he lifts the sleeves of his cut off flannel, he’ll be showing a plethora of gears forever marked onto his pale skin, too.

“Every tattoo has a story,” Azriel answers, because it’s something he believes with his whole heart, and maybe, just maybe, this fucker can relate to that.

The idiot has the audacity to cock his head, questioningly. “Is that so?”

“The one’s I get do,” Azriel responds stiffly, and he hopes that this interview is over because he can’t bear to sit here a moment longer. What’s with all of the follow up questions? He’s already said no, so why the fuck is he still interrogating him?

Azriel is being looked at like he’s some dumb college kid with no idea what he wants to do with his life, and he fucking hates that. He knows exactly what he wants to do once he graduates, and that’s to be a tattoo artist, hence trying to find an apprenticeship at a local shop. Right now, he’s starting to wonder if all of the shop owners have meetings together where they talk about the kid in black gloves and tell each other not to hire him.

Either way, he’s beyond fucking annoyed.

“Well, I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me,” Azriel says, gathering his things. The guy looks at his gloved hands again and he knows that the question is on the tip of his tongue so he hurries, shoving his portfolio into his bag and standing from his chair.

“No problem kid. Like I said, work on it and maybe next semester—”

“Right,” Azriel forces a smile like he’s never had to before. It feels like cutting steel, and he’s sure it looks more threatening than genuine. “Thanks.”

He dips out of the shop before the fucker can ask anymore questions.

He’s glad he didn’t even care to remember his name.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The wind against his body and the rumble of his motorcycle makes things slightly better.

Azriel tries to let the interview roll off of his shoulders with the current pressing against his body, but it just isn’t happening.

Usually, he enjoys the ride. The way taking the curves a little too fast makes his heart stutter in a rapid pace, the smooth asphalt beneath his wheels wiping his worries away, but there’s something about tonight that has him feeling like he’d rather just put on some music, wallow in his bed, and work on his sketches.

He’ll show that fucker.

It had gone shittier than all of the other interviews he’s had. Four, to be specific. Four interviews, where three of them had mentioned his shaky linework, two of them had told him to come back next semester, and one had been conducted by a total fucking idiot.

His hands are shaking now, memories of the accident dredged up from the way the last interviewer was staring at him. He can still feel his beady gaze on his hands, like he was some fucking specimen to be examined under a microscope. Maybe if Azriel had peeled back the latex and showed him the damage of his scars, the guy would’ve left him the fuck alone.

He knows that that’s not how it would’ve gone, though. Guys like him always ask more questions, and Azriel does not want to repeat that story to someone like that.

His gloves are still on, clenched tightly around his handlebars. He can’t ride like this, needs to stop, but he’s two blocks from his apartment now and he just wants to be home.

The fact that he can still feel the phantom touch of your body pressed up close to him every time he rides his bike now helps distract him. It subconsciously eases the trembling in his hands, and Azriel relaxes only slightly. He still doesn’t like you, but the way your thighs had pressed so firmly around his body had felt like being completely doused in warmth. He hadn’t even needed his jacket while the cold rain pounded down on the both of you, because with your chest pressed tightly against his back, your hands around his waist, he was nearly sweating.

He wonders if you had felt the same. Like there was lightning zipping up your rigid spine. If your heart was thundering as loudly as his. If you just wanted to keep going like he did, pass the town up and go on to the next—

Azriel nearly passes the apartment building whilst he’s distracted. Cassian’s big, beat up bronco is a red flag waving at him from its usual spot in front of the building. Literally, the crimson rust bucket is an eyesore, and he’s surprised they haven’t gotten any complaints from the landlord about it bringing the value of the building down.

He jerks to a stop and backs his motorcycle up in front of the truck. Always parking in the closest to the corner, Cassian had said, so that no one can block him in. Azriel hadn’t known if it had been a slight jab from when he’d trapped your and Feyre’s moving truck in on your first day here, but he’d laughed nonetheless.

There are people wandering in and out of the building. Giggling groups of girls and guys carrying racks of beers on their shoulders, hooting and hollering, eye-fucking the girls in their short skirts as they wait for the elevator. There’s parties up and down the building all weekend, and Azriel prays that for once, Cassian has decided to wander down a few floors to find a fuck instead of hosting another party.

His prayers are not answered.

When Azriel shoves through the stairwell out onto the fourth floor, the music hits him like a fucking truck. It’s bass-heavy, blaring down the hall like a goddamn rave. Internally, he groans, shoving his way through the people loitering in the hall, ignoring the more than interested looks he receives from a group of girls, staring him down like a pack of hungry hyenas.

Fuck, he really doesn’t want to deal with this right now.

It’s late enough that the pregame should be finishing soon, but knowing Cassian, it’s only just beginning.

Azriel had stopped off at the local diner for something sweet to take his mind off of the awful interview. It hadn’t helped his shakiness at all, the anger coursing through his veins, not even when his favorite waitress Rita had brought him a small fry on the house and put an extra cherry on top of his shake, then proceeded to sit with him for a bit to check in.

He loves Rita. He, Cassian, and Rhysand used to frequent the diner often during freshman year, when they had no transportation and were broke art students. Rita had always taken care of them, but now, the tradition seems to have dwelled as they’ve gotten older and are able to attend bars and have the money for restaurants that don’t only serve smash burgers and shakes.

Azriel’s pretty sure he’s the only one that still visits out of the three.

His apartment is packed to the brim. He can smell the alcohol and sweat in the air, the stench of it makes his nose scrunch. He could use a fucking drink right now, he thinks, but he doesn’t do it often because it only makes his hands shake more and that’s the last thing he needs right now.

Upon first glance he doesn’t see either of his roommates, and then Cassian is barrelling through the crowd as if he has a sixth sense for knowing when Azriel enters a room.

“Hey, man,” Cassian grins wildly, throwing his arm around his shoulder. The drink in his cup sloshes precariously close to the rim of his glass, and Azriel grimaces. His roommates eyes are blurry with drink, and he’s swaying a bit, leaning his body weight against him. Hopefully, he hasn’t tripped and crushed anyone with his sheer size, because it wouldn’t bode well for the person trapped beneath the behemoth. “Are you setting up tonight? There’s these two chicks that want to get tatted up. Underboob.” Cassian waggles his eyebrows and grins like he’s just caught a glimpse of heaven. “Matching.”

“Not in the mood,” Azriel grunts, pushing past his roommate. He hates every second of shoving through this crowd, bodies plastered against his own like the ink on his arms. He wonders if the loud music is bothering you on the other side of the thin wall, and then he shoves that thought straight from his mind because he doesn't care.

He does care that it’s bothering him, though.

Azriel digs his keys from his pocket. The lock on his door was added after their first party and he’d found a couple right about about to fuck on his bed.

He’s the only one that gets to do that, even if he hasn’t touched another girl in months. He’s been too much of a surly bastard to even want to pursue a girl, and he knows they wouldn’t want him touching them with his fucked up hands, despite the glowing eyes feeding off of his appearance in the hall.

Someone bumps into him and he nearly smacks his head into the door. Azriel chokes back the growl threatening to crawl from his throat, and decides against whirling around to bark at whoever’s run into him. His grip on the knob tightens.

There’s a soft light emitting from his room when he opens the door, the lamp beside his bed glowing. Azriel releases an exasperated huff, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders, but it skyrockets when he notices the lump tucked tightly into his covers.

It’s you, and you’re in his bed.

Two thoughts pass through his mind so quickly he can hardly discern one from the other.

One, what the fuck are you doing in his bed?

And two, who the fuck let you in his room?

Okay, so the second question is easier to answer than the first. It’s obvious that Cassian must have let you into his room, because he’s pretty sure the fucker had made a copy of the key the second day he’d put the lock on his door. Azriel hadn’t let him in when he’d been trying to get him to smell four different colognes he got as samples in a magazine, so his roommate took it into his own hands to make sure Azriel could never be in his room in peace.

The first question, however, makes no sense. You live right next door for fucks sakes, so what the fuck are you doing here?

Azriel stares. He can’t help himself, he’s frozen in the doorway until Cassian’s belting voice complaining about the pop song that the playlist has switched to snaps him from his stupor. He ducks inside of his room, shoving the door shut behind him, and flicking the lock.

He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.

He’s staring at your sleeping form like you’re only pretending to sleep, armed with a weapon and hoping he comes closer. You’ll pop out at him and scare the shit out of him and then Rhys will fall out of the closet laughing and Cassian will burst through the door, falling to his knees in hysterics.

But you’re not moving. You’re curled up on your side, and a metal mixing bowl sits on the table next to his bed, the small stack of books that is normally stacked there spilled haphazardly, one face down on the floor.

There’s a glass of water next to the bowl, and Azriel doesn’t like that it sits so close to his books, despite it being only half full.

His bag falls from his shoulder and he slings it over the back of his desk chair, all while keeping his eyes pinned to your sleeping form. His dark sheets rise and fall shallowly with each breath you take, your lips parted slightly, unbothered by the intrusion and the loud music shaking the walls.

You must be used to it by now.

This is weird. This is so fucking weird that Azriel doesn’t even know what to do with himself but his feet move him closer to the bed against his better judgement. No, this is fucking beyond creepy now, with him looming over you like this, watching you sleep.

His fingers itch and he rips the gloves off of his hands, tossing the latex into the trash by his desk. His fingers flex, and Azriel gulps down a fresh breath of air now that his sweating hands can breathe.

Doing so doesn’t stop that feeling, though. The one where he wants to feel that familiar pencil in his hand, charcoal coating his fingers. There’s a blooming in his mind, inspiration swiping the foulness of his interview away. He need to grab his sketchbook and flip it to a clean page and start drawing the curve of your—

No. He scolds himself, shaking his head furiously and backing away. He trips over your shoes, discarded in a pile on the floor, but he doesn’t eat shit. Maybe if he did it would help clear his mind from this. The way your presence has painted over his tainted night, when he should be more angry to see you occupying his space, but instead, he feels more intrigued.

Fuck. He shouldn’t be looking at the way his sheet is draped across your body. You’re still clothed, and Azriel is more than thankful for that. He shouldn’t be admiring your quiet, peaceful side, not when he’s so used to seeing that crease between your brows and frown tugging your lips whenever he’s around. He shouldn’t be brushing the strand of hair falling across your face behind your ear—

Azriel jerks his hand away from you. He hadn’t realized that he’d moved closer, had been leaning in like what? Like he was going to caress that smooth skin of yours? No, that’s not happening. Now or ever.

He bolts from his room, but not before making sure he locks it behind him. He feels frantic again, like his skin is stretched too tight over his bones. He needs to find Rhys because the music is making his head spin and he’s so, so close to spiraling right now.

Stumbling through the living room to the other side of the apartment, Azriel reaches Rhysand’s door. He hopes it’s unlocked, because being alone right now sounds even better than having to be around anyone right now.

It’s fucking locked.

Azriel pounds on the door. There’s an urgency to it that Rhysand must hear, because he’s cracking the door open a bit and Azriel is met with his glowing violet eyes and naked chest.

“What’s up Az? I’m a little…busy at the moment.”

He doesn’t need to peek over his shoulder to know that Feyre’s waiting for him in his bed right now.

“I, ah—nothing man. It’s nothing,” he mumbles, turning away from the door. None of his questions are being answered. If everyone's over here, why is no one at your apartment? Why aren’t you in your own bed? “What the fuck,” he grumbles, scanning the crowd of gyrating bodies in the middle of his living room.

He spots Cassian somewhere near the middle, a group of girls rubbing their bodies up against his. They’re so close together they look like a pack of sardines, and Cassian is their king. He’s laughing, making suggestive eyes at at least three of them.

Sometimes, Azriel wishes he was that carefree.

With nothing else to do, he makes his way to the kitchen.

He needs a fucking drink.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

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