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reiderwriter · 1 month ago

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I Won't Let You Forget

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: When you wake up in a familiar yet unfamiliar bed with no memory of begging your long-time work crush to sleep with you, you have even less recollection of him actually agreeing. Small memories of pleasure haunt you as he tries to figure out why you're suddenly so distant.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!!!! Alcohol use (whole BAU team, and as a precursor to sex), implied smut, on page (?) smut, dom-ish!Spencer, male masturbation, marking, nipple play/torture, edging, penetrative sex, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, semi-public sex/ make out, creampie, reader is very into male moans. That should be it.

A/N: I forgot about this fic TWICE, but it's here!!! Posting again for @imagining-in-the-margins FWB challenge, and I feel like this one slightly misses the mark but it works anyway. Gif inspiration is at the end for anyone familiar with Business Proposal lol

Masterlist

Being an FBI Agent means you'd slept in - and woken up in - some sketchy places on jobs. A number or motel and hotel rooms across the backroads of America, planes, cars, and office desks. You could usually orient yourself pretty well upon waking, and remember how you'd gotten yourself there quickly.

There was something strange about that morning in particular, though. The bed was comfier and warmer than any motel you'd ever seen, and the fact that there was one meant no jet or desk. It was pitch black outside, though, so visually, you were out of luck. The sheets smelt fresh and familiar, and if weren't for a small warning bell in the back of your head, you'd have shut your eyes again and huddled against the large body pressed against your back.

‘Ah,’ you thought, inwardly cringing. ‘That would be it then.’

Slowly, you pulled what you assumed to be a man's arm from around your midsection, trying to extricate yourself quietly from the bed without any notice.

Whoever was asleep behind you, though, was a lot stronger than you had bargained for, and he quickly pulled you back into him.

Your back hit his chest as he nuzzled into your neck, and you heard his groan out a greeting before stilling and returning to the land of rest. If anything, for your troubles you just came to an understanding that whoever was behind you was just as naked as you were, and based on the way your body seemed over stretched, and well-rested, you had no doubt about the events leading upto your discovery.

You just had no memory of it either.

You wracked your brain, trying desperately to recall where you were, who you were with, and what you were going to do to get out. Unluckily for you, your brain was at about half capacity as his hands worked their way between your legs, even as he slept.

His hands were soft, his touch light on your skin, as if he were tracing words along a page. You twitched under him, stomach flipping as your hips bucked backwards, and your eyes dropped closed again.

You hadn't a clue who you'd climbed into bed with, you simply had the greatest regret that you'd likely never see him again, and would not remember what was likely a deeply, deeply satisfying night.

In abject mortification, you tried once more to free yourself from the very pleasurable prison you'd found yourself in.

Thankfully, his hands chose that moment to fall limp, and you took your chance, hopping up and searching the floor for at the very least your underwear before chancing a glance around you.

Like an arrow through the heart, you realised the room was familiar because you had slept here before. You'd slept over at Spencer's house many times, after work ran late and you needed a place to crash.

Never naked, though. Until now.

You pulled on your clothes as fast as you physically could and tried not to squeak out your disbelief. You almost wondered if you hit your head hard enough against the bookshelf, some braincells would knock together and produce the memory you'd been desperate to make for half a year.

You had finally succeeded in bedding Spencer Reid. And you didn't remember a moment of it.

It was grief that drove you out of his house at 5 am. on a Saturday morning, and definitely, absolutely no regret.

Stepping outside the dark building and being greeted by the first hints of a sunrise, one single, trifling memory slipped back into your brain.

“Something casual,” you giggled, every 's' sound slurring together with each letter touching them. “Something casual and naughty, and fun.”

You didn't remember his exact reply, but though a flicker of arousal ran through you at the memory of the deep rumble of his voice. He had been close, his mouth next to your ear.

You supposed now that his reply hardly mattered when you knew the outcome anyway. It'd been the man himself wrapped around you in bed that morning, his fingers grazing your skin, his cock hard against your ass, his dreams obviously clearer than your own memories.

“It's not like we have the time to see other people,” you'd said to him the night before, hand pushing up his thigh to signal your intent. “We can have some fun. Share a motel room now and then.”

Four sentences.

Four sentences were the extent of your memories, and each one of them had been said by you. Not even a single reply flittered through your brain anymore, a single reaction.

You'd have thought it all a dream but for the fact that you were hunched outside the main entrance to Spencer's building, sans pair of panties you couldn't locate, thanking the gods that your very expensive bra was still around and that you'd worn pants the night before.

To say that Spencer was similarly disorientated when he woke hours later was an understatement. Of course, with the caveat that he remembered every word, every breath, every touch and movement. Instead, he was surprised to find you gone, without a word.

You'd promised as much last night, though.

Casual sex. That's what you'd asked for, and what he'd spent the better half of an evening trying to talk you out of, first with words and then with actions.

It didn't take a night together with you for Spencer Reid to realise that what he wanted quickly bypassed casual. Even now, alone in bed with the memory of you, your scent buried deep in his sheets, the history of your lips branded into his skin, he felt an overwhelming longing.

His body protested against his interrupted plans. He'd hoped to wake you up much the same way he'd put you to sleep the night before, limbs tangled, his cock buried deep inside of you. Instead, he swung his legs out of bed and looked for any trace of you.

It didn't take him long to find your accidental gift. He'd been the one to remove them from you the night before, and he had a good grasp of what the room was supposed to look like, so spotting a pair of fire truck red panties tucked by the door wasn't hard.

It was less spotting them and more staring at them until he convinced his body to calm down, which in and of itself was like fighting a losing battle.

He'd woken up hard, which he didn't doubt was due to dreams of you. He tried his best to ignore it, but before he knew it, he was laid back down with your discarded panties in his hand, pressed up to his mouth and nose as he worked out his frustrations.

Usually, he tried to get himself off as quickly as possible. Time was a commodity, and he always had to be somewhere doing something. That morning, though, he gladly sat back and indulged.

His brain queued up the memories of the night before, playing them chronologically so he could enjoy the feeling of your lips on his, your legs gripping around him, your tongue flicking at the tip of his dick. When he finally came, it was with the disappointment that he hadn't gotten to the best bit yet, finally pushing inside of you.

But after a night of activity and a lonely morning, he let himself rest again and turned his mind to other objectives.

1. Get your panties back to you without being put in handcuffs for indecency.

2. Have enough casual sex with you that you realise you no longer want casual, but something more.

3. Change the bedsheets.

The following week at the BAU was - thankfully - a blur of cases, consultations, and computer files. You were swept off on another case by Sunday evening, back in two days and off again by Thursday morning. Before you knew it, an entire week had passed, and you hadn't had to discuss anything with anyone.

Every morning walking into the bullpen was like walking on shards of broken glass. Willingly.

You'd said less than four sentences to Spencer since you'd accidentally on purpose thrown yourself into his lap, and you found yourself suddenly lacking the vocabulary to actually bring it up.

Instead, you'd simply chosen to sigh after him as he did anything at all in the office, with a single thought in your head: ‘Did he keep the glasses on while we fucked?’

He'd been wearing them all week, and you always thought they made him look hotter than he already was. A little nerdy, but in a Superman way. You couldn't for the life of you get the memory to pop back into your head, though, despite prompting it with many out of pocket daydreams.

“What's got you all introspective?” Derek asked, striding up beside you in the office kitchenette.

“Nothing in particular, what makes you ask?”

“Well, Princess, you just poured salt in your coffee, and from memory, you don't take it that way, so maybe there's something going on with you.”

You cursed and emptied your cup quickly as the man laughed.

“Take it what way?” A voice called out from the doorway, and every hair on your body stood on high alert. There was something about Spencer saying ‘take it’ that should've been so casual, but sent shudders across your body as you heard the words whispered into your ear.

“Take it like a good girl, that's right. So good for me.”

Your cup almost went crashing to the floor as your ears pricked, but you refused to turn around for fear he'd read the truth on your face.

“Nothing kid,” Morgan said, chuckling as you rinsed your cup and kept rinsing it until you felt yourself cool down a bit.

“What's up with the glasses? You've been wearing them a lot this week.” Derek asked, and you cursed his sudden onset curiosity, knowing there was no way to dismiss yourself from the room without garnering an entirely new set of questions.

“I just ran out of contacts,” Spencer replied, but you heard the grin in his tone without even having to look at him.

“You should just throw out all of your contacts,” you'd said, as you nipped at his throat. “I swear I'd jump you every day if you looked at me like that down your glasses.”

You tried to remain composed as the memory of straddling him and grinding down against his hard member hit you like a freight train. You felt you managed it well until you looked down to see another ruined, salty coffee.

“If you ever want to fuck me, just, like, come in wearing the glasses. I'll know,” you'd moaned as his hands gripped your hips controlling your rhythm and pressing you harder into him. “Fuck, I’ll know.”

“I give up,” you mumbled and took off, avoiding all eye contact as you left the small space.

A small part of you had wished that Spencer had your memory of the night. The smallest, teeniest part of you that didn't want a do-over that was. Getting possible confirmation that he remembered everything you'd said while drunk on dick (and tequila) was a lot to take on at 2 pm. on a Friday.

As you walked away, you sent up a prayer to every deity you could think that the memories came back whole and intact, and quickly, and preferably while you were alone and not in company.

Because you wanted nothing more than to relive that brief bite of pleasure you'd been granted.

The weekend came and went fairly obstruction free, even if your dreams, waking and not, were filled with the image of Spencer's head tipped back as you raked your teeth and tongue over sensitive areas.

It took you all the way until Monday morning, when you'd returned to work and seen Spencer in the glasses once again, to remember the meaning of the words you'd thrown at him.

Spencer wanted to fuck you again. Still. Continuously?

The thought made you a little apprehensive - he already knew your body, from the sounds of it, he'd definitely been competent enough, and you was left stranded on the desert island of short term memory loss. He wanted to fuck him you again. Was there a reason? Was there something you did that he enjoyed? What were his boundaries? His kinks? What positions did he like?

Half your days now, it seemed, were filled with questions about sex with Spencer. So it wasn't a surprise you'd kept up your staring. You couldn't fault him for having his eyes trained on you more times than not as well.

You were so glad that your emotions on the subject were so tangled and crossed that no one else could read them there.

BAU 0-1 EMOTIONAL TURMOIL

It was lucky, though, that you were watching him near constantly and were the first to notice the flash of purple against his neck as he loosened his tie.

You stood with a startling bang, hitting your knee against the table as you sprinted over to his desk.

Leaning over him, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and, tugging him around so he was facing you, began buttoning it for him.

“Y/N,” he whispered, looking up at you and trying to play this off as a daily occurrence, to not alert the room full of human lie detectors to suspicious behaviour.

“What are you doing?”

“Your tie is loose. Strauss is always visiting these days. Let's not give her petty reasons to penalise us.”

He relaxed more into your touch and let you work, tilting his head so your hands could get where they needed to be.

“So you're being a good friend?” he asked, and despite the obvious bait, you answered.

“Yes.”

“Good friends help each other out.”

“We can still be friends, Spencer,” you'd begged as you fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to get it off so you had more skin to taste. “Good friends who help each other out from time to time. Like this.”

“Your neck is still purple,” you whispered, changing the subject and moving on to his tie as you untied it and levelled it again, ready to twist back up.

“Is yours?”

“You can see my neck, it's fine.”

“That's not what I meant.”

You met his eyes finally, completing the last loop of the knot as you challenged him.

Or rather, challenged yourself to not drop your eyes to his lips.

“Say what you mean,” you glared, straightening his shoulders and brushing off non-existent dust as you attempted to slip away.

“The purple marks on you. I didn't leave them on your neck. Are they still… bright?”

You looked around you. Emily and Derek seemed to be giving you slightly weird looks, but both seemed trapped on business phone calls that wouldn't end anytime soon.

You'd noticed the marks straight away, of course, across the tops of your breasts and surrounding them, as if that area had been the coordinates for a targeted assault. Now, though, with his eyes burning a path down from your eyes to your chest as loudly as a person could ever look, you knew just how true that was.

“Spencer, fuck YES!” You had moaned the second your back hit the mattress of his bed. You'd been drinking together on his sofa, but were ecstatic to graduate to the bedroom and lose half your clothes in the process.

With greedy hands, he'd ripped away your bra, and immediately he'd latched on with his mouth, sucking, biting, licking, fondling. He bruised one spot with his mouth while his hand tortured a nipple, first ignoring it, circling it but not touching it directly, and then pulling it to the border of pain and pleasure before switching hand and mouth and repeating the process.

Back in the present, you looked down at Spencer in his seat, breathed deeply, and replied.

“You know as well as I do that you made them to last.”

“So we match, then?” he asked, and you gave a quick nod before escaping back to the relative sanity of your desk. His eyes didn't leave your chest though, and for the whole afternoon, you wondered if he'd invented a way to look so hard that you bruised further.

If you had to give one reason why you loved your job, you'd probably say because you spent your day solving riddles and puzzles and getting to the bottom of situations. You liked clear-cut explanations for things and couldn't stand the roundabout ways people in other professions had to talk to each other. You'd listen to Hotch walk laps around other lawyers in legalese enough times to know you were no fan of espionage or double talk.

So there was only one downside of the job, and that was having to be covert. If you'd wanted to spy, you'd have joined the CIA instead.

Your most recent case, unfortunately, had landed you doing exactly that. It had also landed you in a closet, chest to chest with Spencer Reid, as you listened into a conversation between two likely suspects.

In the first five minutes, you gained the important information you needed, and the next forty-five was a waiting game to see when they'd finally get out so you could escape.

If you'd been alone, you wouldn't have minded. But with Spencer's 6 foot something frame practically wrapped around your own, your spine was ramrod straight, your thoughts turning back to frustration as you urged your brain to give back the night of memories you'd lost.

Because if he felt this good just stood next to you, you would go crazy imagining how good he felt inside you.

The most you managed to squeak out, after nearly an hour wrapped around each other, though, was “Do you get a sense of Deja Vu here?”

It was the first time you'd turned your head to look at him, having been looking to the door the entire time. But your gaze returned to him, and even the shadows of the closet couldn't hide the obvious list dripping from his eyes as he covertly stared down your shirt. Your breasts had popped up a bit more with him squished up against you, and your hands were pinned to the wall beside your waist should you need to draw your gun quickly if found.

Your companion, instead, was in a world of his own, and you were suddenly grateful that he'd kept at least an inch of space between your hips, knowing that you, too, would be a goner if you had to stand against the hard line of his cock for this long.

“Hmm?” He whispered, still staring at the little speckles of faded yellow and purple that popped out of your suddenly too low shirt.

“Deja vu?” You asked again, slightly breathless and dizzy, a side effect of his lusty gaze.

He raised an eyebrow and gave a slow nod, his hands gripping your waist and pinning you more firmly to the wall as he debated giving into temptation. “We've definitely been here before.”

A snippet of a memory caught you unaware, and you gasped in response.

He pinned your hands above your head against the wall as you crashed your way into the bedroom, his fingers too impatient to undress you to start pleasuring you. Without a warning, he slipped a hand up your dress and down your panties, keeping you in place with one impossibly large hand as the other skilfully drew out moan after moan with soft caresses.

“So fucking wet for me,” he groaned against your lips, as your memory melted away to reality.

You were being edged by your goddamn frontal cortex, and you had absolutely had enough. As soon as the suspects left, you raced out of the closet as fast as your feet could carry you away from the torment.

A week of solid case work, avoiding Spencer and hitting your head against a brick wall in your spare time later, and you found yourself attending a hasty work celebration with the team.

A murderer had been caught job well done, or whatever excuse you needed to unwind after work over a few large pizzas.

“All I'm saying is, a deep dish every now and again would be appreciated. We're never that far from Chicago.”

“We're 613 miles away from Chicago.”

You laughed at the tired face Derek flashed the team before biting into his slice, your other coworkers similarly tucking into the late night meal.

You'd landed at 11pm, and starving, had come to your last resort.

“Is anyone else's pizza wet?” Emily asked, picking up her slice and letting it drip onto her cardboard plate.

You shrugged at the comment, just happy to finally be filling your stomach with something other than coffee for the first time in what felt like forever.

But there seemed to be no rest for the wicked, and you caught Spencer's eye as you tugged the cheese into your mouth.

“Mhmm. So wet.”

There was no reality in which you stopped yourself from choking on your food then, as he kept a quiet smile on his face as the others offered you drinks and tissues.

Perched next to him, you shot him a dirty look out of the corner of your eye and were about to turn back to your meal when he moved again.

Bringing a tissue to your lips, he wiped away the grease from the corners, quietly berating you as he cleaned you like a child.

“So messy. Don't choke on it next time.”

The double entendre didn't go unnoticed, as Derek piled on quickly, not noticing the unsettling mix of deep, bitter embarrassment and utter arousal warring on your features.

“Kid, you don't have to tell the woman to swallow. I'm sure she's perfectly capable.”

Each memory that hit you came with a wave of matching mortification, as you tried to keep every reaction to yourself.

But remembering the feeling of Spencer Reid's cum shooting across your face was something you'd much rather have experienced privately. You stayed trapped into much too intimate eye contact with him anyway as he kept tending to your small spills. He wiped away the drops of grease on your legs, gripping your thigh much tighter than you could ever have possibly needed.

Evidently, your coworkers had found some satisfaction with the pizza, as they all seemed to not notice the tension a simple touch had snapped between the two of you. Using their hunger as a shield, you quickly excused yourself from the table to clean yourself up.

The door to the bathroom was only a step away from the door to the alley, and you quickly let yourself out into the crisp night air. Not even two minutes later, Spencer was with you.

“Y/N?”

“Oh god, it's happening again. I can hear his voice!”

“Y/N, please, come back inside.”

“Sure, if you stop trying to eye fuck me in front of my boss!”

With the words finally out in the open between you, you stood still for a best or two, letting Spencer pick up the slack in the conversation.

“The… The others were talking about going to get some drinks,” he started carefully, afraid you'd spook at any moment. “After pizza?”

“Drinks?”

“Alcohol.”

You gave a short bitter laugh and brushed a hand through your hair as you turned your face away from him.

“I seem to make a lot of mistakes when I'm drunk.”

“Mistakes?” He said. The word was so quietly hurt that you instantly winced, realising your mistake.

“No. No. That's not how I meant it, Spencer, I just…” you grabbed your hair in frustration again, trying desperately to find the words to explain the gaping void where pleasing memories should've been.

“Everyone… everyone is still inside, right? No chance of a surprise visit from anyone.”

“They're debating Hawaiian pizza, I think we have time. Why?”

Another minute passed as you thought through your next actions, leg shaking as you processed every possible emotion.

Lunging toward him, you grabbed a hold of his shirt and pressed up to meet him in a kiss. Responding quickly, his hands gladly claimed a hold of your body as he walked you back against the wall, his mouth furiously engaged with your own in a battle of lust.

“I don't-” you gasped between kisses, unable to get more than a word in as his tongue works his way into your mouth. He pulled away eventually, but only to distract you further with a wandering tongue exploring the plains of skin already on show. Neck, lips, cheeks, collar, nothing is safe from the hear of his tongue tracing up and down the length of you..

“Don't what?” He said, finally finding the willpower to pull back for more than a millisecond.

“I don't remember. Any of it, I can't remember. God, I'm so stupid. Why don't I remember?”

For a second, his tongue kept up its journey, and you moaned as he nipped at the edge of your ear. That was until your words hit his ears and his hands flew up faster than you could've ever pushed them off.

“What?”

“I don't-” panic surged in your voice as you felt it tremble and shake, gulping it down to continue.

“I don't remember anything. And I woke up in your bed, and it felt so good and nice, but I couldn't remember it until you started doing things, and then I remembered… small parts?"

He raked a hand through his hair and took a deep breath as you continued, desperate to get every word out as fast as possible.

“I-I-I, shit Spencer, I woke up feeling so good, and then I saw you there, and I couldn't remember a thing. Do you know how long I was waiting for something to happen? I couldn't even remember one stupid fucking kiss, let alone anything else we did-”

“You seriously don't remember anything.”

“That's what I've been saying.”

He nodded and let out a shaky breath as you stepped closer to him, desperate to explain your predicament.

“You don't… you didn't just regret It and decide to leave?”

“I can't regret something I don't remember.”

Worrying his lip, he looked away for a minute and looked back, and you found yourself creeping closer again until his hands were gripping your hips again as he looked back to you.

“If you could remember, would you regret it?”

In a heartbeat, you had your answer.

“No.”

His lips crashed into yours again, and you gladly moaned into this one. With one hand buried in curls and the other pulling him closer by his loose tie, your hands stayed fastened to his body, clutching him like there was nowhere else you'd rather be.

His hands followed suit, falling down to your thighs as he spread your legs further apart, holding you against the wall and lifting you just slightly, angling your hips together in a way that numbed your senses.

Everywhere you touched left you craving further exploration, to be closer to him, and you whined in his mouth as if to let him know what you so dearly craved.

He listened and gave in, his fingers pushing to the centre of you, mere centimetres away from where you wanted him.

It was as if God was laughing down at your struggle, though, as just as he was about to make contact, a shout of your names rang out around the corner. Just as Penelope rounded into the alleyway, you shoved Spencer away, accidentally flinging him to the ground as you desperately righted yourself again.

“There you two are. What are you doing out here?”

“Earring,” you gasped, praying it was just dark enough for Penelope to not notice that your lipstick and Spencer's lipstick were the same shade.

“I dropped an earring, and Spencer is helping me look for it.”

Slightly confused, Spencer quickly went along with your lie, patting the ground where he'd fallen to look for the imaginary jewellery.

“Okay. Well, we're hopping over to the bar next door, and no! This is not optional, Emily already ordered the first round.”

Without another word or explanation, or anything to really help you figure out what was going on with you and Spencer, the two of you awkwardly followed Penelope into the bar and to your seats.

You stuffed yourself into the seat beside Penelope, and were not at all upset when Spencer climbed into the booth right beside you, sitting shoulder to shoulder with you knees bumping every now and then from the movements.

And just like that, you found yourself drinking for another two hours, unable to process any of the emotions you'd been through in the alley.

Elation. Desperation. Sadness. Arousal. All stuck in your tiny, tiny brain as you tried still to remember any small detail you could about your last encounter.

Your look of concentration didn't go unnoticed.

“Y/N, what's with the pensive look?” Derek shot at you across the table as he finished the last dregs of his beer. “Is it perhaps the melancholy of singleness?”

“That's not a word,” Spencer mumbled into his own drink.

When Penelope joined in, you knew you'd been backed into a corner.

“Are you not seeing someone?” She asked, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“There was that guy you mentioned last week, right?” The sound of betrayal came directly from the other side of you, and your head whipped from Penelope to Spencer so fast, you were sure you'd be feeling it in the morning.

“What? What guy, Y/N? You never mentioned a guy to me! Spencer knows, but I don't know. How is that fair?”

“No, Penelope, he's-”

“Spencer, what do you know? What's this guys name? What does he look like? What does he do for a living? When you say she mentioned him last week, was it a mention mention, or just a mention?”

“Penelope, slow down.”

“Well-”

“Spencer! Do NOT answer her.”

“You don't want me to tell her about the guy you wanted something casual with. You said you were around him a lot, so you might as well try it at some point.”

Your face burnt in shame as you narrowed your eyes at him. Had you really said that? Had that honestly been your opener for hitting on the man you'd wanted for the longest time?

“Mhmm, really? And what else did I say?”

“I don't think you'll want me to say-”

“No, please, jog my memory.”

“You said, and I quote, that he had a ‘very rideable face.’ You followed up with, ‘it would look very pretty buried between your legs.’”

The chorus of laughter that rang out only set you more on edge after the flush of memories that hit you once more. He had looked very pretty sat between your legs licking your cunt, lapping up your cum as your legs shook and you fucked yourself against his face. He had simply pressed a hand to your stomach, held you still and kept up the good work. His eyes sparkled with passion and his lips glistened with cum. It was quite the picture, now that you remembered it.

You were just annoyedeniugh, so you had to shoot back a retort. You were just too slow to realise “yes, well, I can recall that I was, in fact correct,” wasn't the right retort.

Another half hour of questioning later, and you'd finally been allowed passage out of the bar, into a taxi, and back to your apartment, alone but for the shame.

Spencer, perpetually sober-ish, had been put on designated driver duty to get others home, and it wasn't as if you could protest.

You threw yourself down onto your bed as soon as you got into your apartment and stayed there until you were about to fall asleep. A knock at your door pulled you back into the world of the woken, and you dragged yourself to the door.

You weren't surprised to see Spencer back at your side an hour after you'd left him. You knew it was a possibility, though you thought you'd be waiting another 12 hours or so.

It took less than 12 seconds for his searching eyes to find whatever silent consent he was looking for before he stretched out and claimed you. He softly cradled you as his lips met you, his gentle touch delicate where his soft lips were hard and insistent. He closed the door. He pushed you back a step at a time until you were out of the doorway. Pausing, he pulled away and took off his glasses, putting them down on the side table, before cupping your cheek and stealing your breath. Again.

You moaned into his kiss, and he slipped his hand down to your neck, gently squeezing as he moved you back towards the bed.

“Spencer…” you begged wordlessly.

“Remember now?”

“N-No.”

He nodded and continued, his other hand loosening his tie once more, as you clung to him like glue, hands not daring to move from the holds you had on his shirt, afraid you'd trip and lose sight of him all over again.

You reached the bed, and he sat you down, tearing his lips away at last, but still choosing to keep hold of your neck, standing above you.

“Are you sober?” He asked, as though he hadn't watched you drink only virgin cocktails all night. You shook your head, yes.

“Good.”

“Are you going to fuck me?” You blurted out, unable to help yourself, even without the liquid courage.

“You wanted the experience, right? And then you forgot all about it, so it's only polite…” His hands began massaging your neck, shoulders, pushing down into your shirt to get the top of your chest, too.

“I don't want the experience,” you said quickly. “Not- not a casual experience, Spencer, I want… I want…” His hands distracted you as your shirt stretched to allow his hands to grope your breasts. He slipped into your bra and began his assault of your chest, still looming above you as he listened to your explanation.

“I… don't want a casual thing, Spencer, I want- I want…” you moaned as he pinched your nipple hard, seething as you attempted to not shout out.

“What do you want, Y/N? Be specific.”

“I want you!” You moaned, chest pushing into his touch, trying to avoid the mixture of pain and pleasure pulsing through you with each flick of his finger.

“For how long?” He asked, and your brain short circuited as you whined and pouted up at him, his fingers still tugging at your nipples, still kneading your skin, and pretending his touch was nothing.

“D-don't.”

“Don't what?”

“Don't make me give this an expiration date.”

Spencer's eyes locked with yours, and you found yourself on your back swiftly after, his lips pressed to yours as he held himself over you. Instead of assaulting your chest again, he was slower, more delicate as he gently removed your shirt, encouraging you to move further up the bed as he planted himself firmly between your two legs.

Everywhere he kissed and licked and sucked was a distraction from his attempts to uncloth you, to make you forget that he was still fully dressed and you were about to be laid out plain as day before him.

You covered your chest when he stole your bra, but you couldn't push your thighs together quick enough when he got your panties, and his hand slipped between your folds before you could even catch a breath.

“Good girl,” he whispered, as his fingers found your clit, dipping into your wet spot before tracing along your bundle of nerves and rocking his fingers back and forth, eyes always on yours.

He dropped his forehead to yours and watched silently as your mouth widened to an ‘O’ as you grew wetter, more desperate, more aroused, until you hit your peak and came apart on his fingertips. He hadn't even put a finger inside you, and your whole body was awash with satisfaction.

Another kiss stolen ended all thoughts of contentment as he slid in a finger into you while slipping his tongue back into your mouth.

If his fingers on your clit had been gentle, probing, curious about your release, the fingers stretching you out were the opposite. He knew your limits, had taken pleasure in your pleasure and now he was testing it, seeing how far he could push you until you did everything once again.

His free hand reached up to your face, and before you knew it, two fingers had been inserted into your mouth. You sucked instinctively, desperate to please him as your hips jumped upwards, trying to ride his hand. But every time you so much as moved, he withdrew slightly, pulling that pleasure you so desperately sought from your grasp.

“Spencer- please-” you said as he pulled his fingers from your mouth.

“I'm not going faster. I want you to remember every second, I want this to last as long as possible, okay? Can you do that?”

You pouted as he stroked your cheek with his wet fingers, gathering the spit from your chin before pushing it right back into your mouth. You kept sucking.

Every time he felt you tighten around him, his fingers withdrew, or they stilled, or he moved in a slightly different way, and you were set adrift again on the tide of arousal. He edged you for what felt like days to your pleasure addled mind, and you kept up your task, too.

“Good girl. No more cumming. Not yet.”

Finally, he withdrew his fingers, your legs shaking from the tension of holding off your pleasure.

He stood and removed his shirt, unbuttoning his pants just enough to free his swollen cock, but not removing it entirely.

The sight of him almost made you weep in relief, so sure that now you were going to be able to cum, that he'd enter you and your get to release around his cock, to suck him in deeper.

Instead, he got on his knees in front of you and gave another sharp order.

“No cumming, remember Princess.” Without waiting for a response, his tongue dragged across your folds, before reaching your clit. His lips wrapped around your nub and your whole body reacted, convulsing inwards as you shouted your pleasure.

“Spencer! Spencer, no, please - please!!” You clawed at the bed as you fucked his face, hips pleading with his tongue to finish the job he'd begun an age ago with his scant fingers.

You desperately wanted your release, but he was equally desperate to frustrate you, pinning your hips and pulling back to just spit on your cunt when your thrusts became erratic, close to the edge.

He touched everywhere except the part where you needed him, content for a moment to listen to the moans turn to tears, turn to anger and frustration and longing as you clawed a hand in his hair and humped his tongue like a beast.

Finally, you came, more than happy to use his tongue like the pillow you'd stuffed between your legs in your horny adolescence.

He wasted no more time entering you, rigid and hot, and more than welcomed by your aching cunt.

He pushed in inch by inch, and the eternity that passed before that point was nothing in comparison to the millenia caught between one breath and the next, between him readying himself, and him thrusting into you in his entirety.

He filled you perfectly, as if you were born to let him take you, to despoil your cunt again and again, until the scent of him never left you.

He moved, pushing your knees up as you welcomed somehow more of him, as he hunched over you and began.

It was animalistic, and noisy, and messy, and fuck, was it hot. The bedsheets were wet already from your water show foreplay session, but with his cock locked inside of you, you couldn't hold back, and you came with a spurt.

You screamed, not expecting your pleasure to squirt out of you, as he fucked you harder, your breaths mingling with the wet, sloppy sounds of your cunt being used again and again and again.

“Spencer, fuck, I'm-”

“You're what? Use your words.”

“I'm… safe, just- Fuck, just fill me up.”

He groaned into your ear as he made his thrusts more and more shallow, slowing down just enough to pull back from you and let you watch him claim you again and again.

He swiped his hair out of his face, biting his lip as his hips rolled into yours, and you swear if you had it left in you, you'd have came on his cock once more watching him do that.

You committed to memory every line of his body, every bruise, every scratch, every line, every hair, everywhere a bullet had nicked him, everywhere on his body that held pain, every gesture on his body that was registering pleasure. You cared less for your own now and more for his as you bucked up into him, meeting him silently as he sucked in a deep breath.

You watched him forget himself inside of you as he tipped his head back in pleasure and, with a small moan, emptied himself inside of you.

His breath crashed back into his body, and you felt every heartbeat resonate through him and into you.

“If you forget this again,” he panted, wrapping his arms around you again. “I'm not waiting another 20 days for a reminder.”

You smiled as his hair tickled Your neck, nuzzling into his neck as you enjoyed his warmth. You tried your best to memorise his scent, too.

“Wake me up bright and early, then,” you smiled, letting your brain settle as you replayed the day back in your head over and over again.

XXX

The inspo:

(Kim Mingue one fucking chance... one chance Kim Mingue...)

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #dom spencer reid

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hurlingdown · 6 months ago

Note

Ima eat you and your writing it’s so good can I please get a whiny sub Luffy x domtop male reader who’s like kinda tall I’m talking a tad bit shorter then brook type tall you can ignore if this is too specific 👍 love your work

EAT YOU UP — TOP MALE READER X MONKEY D. LUFFY

synopsis. luffy loved to sleep in your lap. it was warm, comfortable, and a big enough seat for him to nestle into. it didn't particularly bother you, and even if it did, you wouldn't be able to say no to your adorable captain anyway. just like you hadn't been able to say no to him when his ulterior motives re-surfaced. wc. 1.6k

tags. whiny! sub! luffy, dom! reader. size difference, reader's got a big cock, anal sex, virginity loss, cum eating, tongue-fucking, blowjob, he has no gag reflex, luffy being luffy, bit fluffy ngl

Luffy revelled in your size difference.

The way you towered over him, your large hands being able to completely encircle his waist. Not to mention, you made such a good makeshift bed that he just couldn’t help but snuggle into your lap most afternoons, just to take a fat nap.

You never really minded, as it didn’t interfere with your routine. Plus, having a lap warmer with you anywhere you went was undeniably a huge bonus.

Today was one of those afternoons.

Luffy hummed a song, squirming on your lap to find a comfortable position for his nap. You didn’t think much of it at first, until he started shifting about, his back pressed against your chest to directly sit on your cock.

You froze, feeling the heat rush to your face, and somewhere else—it didn’t help that the rubber captain never kept still. Still, you couldn’t find it in you to push him off, as he had looked up at you with an adorably blinding grin, his gummy smile having wormed its way into your heart long ago.

“Luffy,” you began awkwardly.

“You’re hard today.”

You spluttered. “I’m what today?”

He turned around in your lap to blink innocently at you. “You’re harder than usual today, y/n!”

“Oh. Haha… I am, aren’t I?” You let out a breath of relief. It hadn’t occurred to you that Luffy quite possibly didn’t know about that sort of stuff; or perhaps wasn’t interested in all, seeing as he never bat an eye to the beautiful, well-endowed Boa Hancock who practically threw herself at him at every chance.

You were absorbed in your thoughts until you felt a hand palm your hard cock roughly.

“Luffy!” Your hips bucked upwards, nearly throwing him off your lap. “What was that for—”

“So yours does the same thing, too. Shishi, I thought my dick was broken when I touched it and it turned hard!”

Oh. So he had touched himself before. Guess you could save yourself from having to give ‘the talk’ to an absolute airhead.

“Wow,” Luffy continued to squeeze and fondle your cock through the thin layer of your pants, making you bite your lip to suppress a groan. “You’re pretty big!”

“Captain,” you snapped, finally, glaring at him as he pouted. “This isn’t appropriate.”

“But why not?” he protested, still not releasing his death-grip on your cock.

“This—we—aren’t in that sort of relationship.”

Luffy simply frowned. “Do we have to be in a relationship to touch each other’s dicks?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Good!”

Before he went back to straight-up kneading your poor cock, you grabbed his wrists and bound them behind his back with one hand.

“But why?” he whined loudly, bottom lip jutting out as he stared up at you. “I want to! You gotta let me! I’m the captain!”

You sighed. “You may be my captain, but that doesn’t mean you get to take advantage of your superiority to sexually harass me whenever you want.”

“I’m not sensually harassing you, or whatever that is!”

“It’s ‘sexually harass’, not sensually harass. And—why do you even want to do this in the first place? You’ve never acted like this before when you napped on me before.”

“I just suddenly want to! What’s the matter with that?!” Luffy looked petulant, almost angry as he couldn’t get what he wanted, and he retracted one of his legs hooked around your waist to tramp on your cock.

You let out a guttural moan at that, and Luffy’s eyes had widened visibly, as though he wanted to hear more.

“Hey, y/n? My dick’s hard.”

“Is this what you wanted, baby?”

Luffy’s knees were pressed into the mattress above his shoulders, making good use of his stretchiness as he shudders and whines a response beneath you. His hole is stretched perfectly around your cock, warm and wet and tight, taking you to the brim so well.

“Y-yeah, puh—please!” he wailed desperately, raking his nails on your back as you angled your hips, thrusting up into his sweet spot. “So—so big—ah!”

“There it is.” You grinned, hands fully wrapping around his waist to tug him back onto your cock like a ragdoll, perfectly nailing his prostate again. “Think we found it, mm?”

Luffy nodded his head weakly, trembling all over as you railed him into the mattress with each heavy thrust, before dragging him back. “Feels really g-good! Right—right there!”

“Here, captain?” You purposefully missed, tip of your cock barely grazing it, and he whined shamelessly.

“No! Not there!” he moaned, shaking his head in frustration as he looked at you with pleading eyes. “Y/n, I need it s-so bad!”

You would have never thought that Luffy was capable of such dirty talking. But right now—with your captain willingly spreading his legs for you, hole stretched wide open and insides rearranging themselves to fit your huge cock, you couldn’t even process it except for how good it felt.

“And what’s the magic word, love?”

“M-magic word?” He blinks at you confusedly. “I don’t know any—any magic word! I’m not—a magician, ah, silly!”

Warmth curled in your chest at how utterly ridiculous Luffy was, and you gave a little laugh, before leaning down to kiss him. Luffy kissed you back with eagerness, biting and sucking impatiently at your lower lip. As you fucked your tongue into that pliant little mouth of his, mirroring your cock’s every thrust, he had sucked on it and moaned around it, drool spilling down the sides of his mouth as though it felt heavenly for him.

“So full…” Luffy whimpered around your tongue, eyes rolling back in ecstasy—and you couldn’t pinpoint which hole he was referring to.

You reeled back after a long kiss, going back to pounding into him as he whined for “harder”, for “more”, and “wanting to eat the funny liquid that comes out of your cock”.

Your breath hitched in surprise as you realised what Luffy meant. “Want me to cum down your throat, baby? That what you want?” You could feel yourself getting closer and closer, his warm, spongy walls pulsating around you every time you pulled back, as though wanting to keep you inside forever.

“Yes, yes—wanna, wanna know what you taste like, y/n!” he babbled mindlessly, clinging on to your shoulders as you flattened the head of your cock against his prostate, grinding hard and deliberately. “Ugh, ugh—it feels weird—”

“Yeah? You gonna come for me, sweetheart? Fucking do it—cum on my cock, captain.”

With the mention of his title, Luffy’s eyes squeezed shut before his head lolled back with a loud, drawn-out moan, body jerking violently and cock spurting all over his chest and abdomen. His hole clenched around you as tight as sin, and you had to hold back with all your willpower to not come on the spot.

Luffy panted, still twitching beneath you as he raised one shaky finger, bringing it up to his face to point into his open mouth. Asking silently.

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing, but once you got the green light, you rammed back into his twitching hole, no longer prioritising his pleasure over yours, only able to process how divine it felt to be making love to your captain. As you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your orgasm, you pulled out of his hole all of a sudden and plunged your cock into his ready, parted mouth, cumming so hard down his throat you felt yourself ascend.

Luffy’s lips wrapped around the base of your cock, sucking hard and milking you throughout your orgasm. You groaned, low and deep, thrusting messily into tight wet heat as cum steadily dribbled down a vacuum, as though insatiable.

You released your hold on his hair as you felt yourself go soft, staring incredulously down at a red-faced Luffy who was sucking at you as if he was trying to swallow your entire cock.

“Luff,” you huffed, gently wiping away a line of his own cum that had somehow splattered on his collarbones. “That’s enough.”

It was then that he finally pulled back, frantically sucking air through his mouth. “I—I couldn’t taste it,” he whined, the corners of his lips turning down unhappily. “Your cum, or whatever. I couldn’t taste it and it went down my throat!”

Oh. Oh.

You suppressed a laugh—because that was what he was being prissy about. Caressing his face affectionately, you went to lay down beside him. “I’m sorry. Next time I’ll just put the tip inside.”

“It’s fine. I felt full enough.”

Luffy had to stop dropping these one-liners that made you gape.

“What? Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” He looked at you, frowning with confusion. “Y’know, this almost made me as full as the banquet-thingy Sanji put together last week. There was so much yummy food! Your dick was really good, too, though—so don’t get jealous.”

You really had to get used to the way Luffy talked—because he talked way too much and it drove you absolutely crazy. In an almost ‘too good’ way. This had to stop.

“Luffy.” You pulled him into your arms, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he giggled happily. “Stop talking.” masterlist! # luffy is such a fun character to write lol

#✧ blood of reptile.#top male reader #dom male reader #luffy x male reader #monkey d luffy x male reader #monkey d luffy x reader #luffy x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x male reader #top reader #dom reader #male reader #x male reader #bottom character #monkey d. luffy #bottom male character #one piece smut #no beta we die like ace

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delusionsofgrandeur13 · 7 months ago

Text

pt. 2

you just saw your ex boyfriend, dick grayson, for the first time since he broke up with you.

you ran into him on the street.

no, like, literally ran into him.

you were walking your mom’s dog for her, a german shepherd she got when you moved out. she’d aptly named him trouble. despite his name, trouble was usually a mellow guy, even if he was huge. walking him was just another thing you were doing to try and ignore the thoughts constantly pounding out a beat in your head.

oh, dick would think this is funny! that’s dick’s favorite color, i should buy it! dick and i should go there on our next date!

and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on and-

anyways, you were definitely trying to keep yourself busy.

any time a memory popped up in your brain of him—

laughing at your jokes, holding you close while you fell asleep, kissing your neck while he thrust into you

��you’d empty the dishwasher, paint your nails, (any color but blue) turn on reality tv, read a book, stuff your face, whatever.

anything to stop fucking thinking about him and his stupid blue eyes and his dumb smile.

you’d been been watching the news, sprawled across the couch. just the regular gotham news: don’t use main street, mr. freeze’s ray iced out the pavement. the iceberg lounge had been raided by the police for the third time this month. the justice league defeated yet another extraterrestrial threat to humanity, blah, blah, blah. you weren’t really watching. the news program ended, and the next one started. a gotham gossip show. they were doing a special segment on the wayne family.

of course they fucking were. even your tv was conspiring against you. you had to resist the urge to chuck the remote at it.

you turned it off instead, heading to your room to get ready for a run.

(running for exercise or running from your thoughts?)

your mom had asked you to take trouble right before you’d walked out the door, and so you grabbed him and his leash and headed out. you’d forgotten the bags for his poop, but you didn’t think you would be out that long, so you just kept on going.

you were wearing the leggings dick had bought you, ones he joked should be a specific blue color. you hadn’t understood then, but you more than understood now. it was warmer, and so you just had on an old sports bra on top, and some converse.

you were not the athletic type. that was dick. probably still was. you wouldn’t really know.

you hadn’t talked since it happened, like three or four weeks ago.

time had become a little fuzzy. your mom said you could stay with her as long as you needed, but you were starting to get the itch to move out.

nothing against your mom, it’s just hard to sob really loudly into a pint of ice cream when she’s there.

and she keeps trying to wash the one shirt of dick’s you still have. you know, fully well, how dumb it is, (and a little gross) but you’re still wearing his shirt every night to bed. and maybe it’s all in your head, but it still smells like him. you aren’t ready to wash it. besides, now that you’re sleeping by yourself, you’re pretty sure it’s helping you fall asleep. something that was hard to do the first few nights without your big warm boyfriend next to you in bed.

it probably isn’t good for you, to keep wearing his shirt.

you’d had your hand between your thighs more than once late at night thinking about being enveloped in his scent. your nights were haunted with thoughts of his body over yours, his phantom voice in your ear. calling you angel, asking you if this was heaven, like the last time you’d had sex.

it definitely isn’t good for you.

but neither is life without dick grayson.

you try not to dwell on the fact that dick had given you a sort of non-reason for the breakup. sure, it got lonely sometimes, or you got anxious for your masked boyfriend, so you cried. so what if your patience wore thin after a few too many “i’m sorry, angel, i can’t make it this time”-s.

you were human!

but you’d never, never once complained about his absence or his commitments to his family.

never.

he’d just assumed you were silently suffering and it really irked you if you thought about it for too long. you still weren’t sure if you were mad at him or sad, or whatever. it felt like your brain couldn’t decide on an emotion so you just got twelve at once. but what you did know for sure was that he was 110% worth it to you. you just wish he’d realize that. see that. instead of just the times you were a little emotionally strung out. your ex boyfriend was too willing to sacrifice his own mental health for the sake of yours and you were sick of it. but you didn’t know if you had the courage to say that to him. or even see him, after the way this breakup had hit you.

your friends had managed to get you out of the house, a few times now.

you’d gotten almost too drunk every time, escaping your friends and going outside to get some air. this time, you saw a guy that looked just enough like dick, and it’d all been too much. so you got out of there. you sat yourself down on the curb, looking up at the hazy rooftops. you were always looking up. always.

and since the break up, you’d noticed the vigilantes of your city more often. maybe there was more criminal activity. maybe you were just paying more attention than you used to.

you’d seen spoiler and orphan, pounding the pavement behind you to run after some seedy looking guy holding a briefcase. you think spoiler tried to high five you on the way past, but there was no way. you wrote it off as your memory embellishing things.

you were pretty sure red hood had nodded at you before disappearing down a fire escape on the other side of the building.

your mom had recently gotten a delivery of security cameras for her house. but she hadn’t ordered them. the shipping address had only the address of some warehouse on the dock, the name just, ‘R.R.’ you’d set the cameras up, but you and your mom both were still baffled about it.

and here, sitting on the curb, you were staring at what looked like a dark figure crouched on the rooftop opposite. they’d been there when you’d entered the club, too.

you squinted, trying to make out shoulders and suit colors, when they stood up, and the light bounced off his shiny cowl.

fucking batman?

you shook your head, trying to shake your drunk brain like an etch-a-sketch. there was actually no way.

a smaller figure, one you hadn’t seen behind the shape of batman (!?) pulled a weapon, a gleaming silver sword, and pointed it at you. your head spun. batman (there was no way) shook his head at robin. he sheathed his sword, throwing his hands up in what looked like annoyance. you blinked, and they were gone.

you weren’t really sure if it had happened or not. you’d been trying not to think too hard about the fact that you still hadn’t seen nightwing. you’d really been trying.

so instead, you were walking your mom’s dog.

trouble had, in fact, pooped, and you were frantically looking around for something to pick it up with. gotham was already shitty enough without the addition of, well, literal shit. the streets were busy, but not crowded, and someone down the block whistled for a cab, catching your attention. you turned, and at the same time, trouble jerked your arm, pulling you backwards into someone walking on the sidewalk. the stranger made a choked sound.

“trouble??”

your heart stopped. you held your breath, turning around.

trouble was at attention, looking up at your ex-boyfriend with his head cocked.

dick’s eyes were wide. his hair shorter than you remember. he leaned down to scratch trouble behind the ears, his biceps and shoulder muscles in hard relief. are you dreaming? you didn’t recognize the shirt he had on, but he was wearing your favorite jeans of his, and his matching converse. your mouth felt like a desert.

trouble trails around the two of you, the leash long. he loves your ex-boyfriend, you know he won’t go anywhere.

“did you cut your hair?” you take a step forward. dick does too.

“i-” he clears his throat. “i did. do you like it?” he shifts his eyes, his cheeks bright pink.

you make a show of looking it over. he turns his head so you can see it from all angles. like he always did when he got a haircut.

your chest hurts.

you nod approvingly, flashing him a weak smile.

“it looks really nice. you’re very-” your face heats as you stop yourself. “it looks very handsome.”

that’s an understatement. you would’ve climbed him like a tree the minute he’d come home looking like that. the way his biceps were bulging out of his shirt sleeves could not be good for his circulation. it was great for yours, your heart was beating a mile a minute.

dick smiles down at you, stepping forward again.

“thanks.” he looks down, taking in your outfit. “nice leggings, ang-” he’s cut off when trouble spots a squirrel and darts, barking wildly. the problem is, trouble had been walking his leashed self around you and dick.

you’re now chest to chest with your ex boyfriend in the middle of a sidewalk, tied to him by rope. you vaguely hear trouble whine at the way his collar bit into his neck from the leash pulling taut. you didn’t even have the time to process the fact that he had almost called you angel. which was probably a good thing.

you’re breathing heavily, while dick doesn’t seem to be breathing at all.

he’s put his arms around you on instinct, and you hate the way you feel like you’re home. a shiver runs up your spine at the sudden closeness, and dick peers down at you through half-lids. your mouth dries up again. you suddenly feel indignant.

“you are not allowed to breakup with me and then show up and look at me like that!” you hiss at him.

you would throw up your hands in exasperation if they weren’t basically pinned to dick’s body. a smile breaks across his face, his bright blue eyes telling you everything you need to know. he stares at you, studying you. you wonder if he can feel how hard your heart is beating.

“alfred taught me a new recipe.” he blurts, his hand clutching at your back.

he’s adorable. but you school your face and raise an eyebrow at him.

“..oookay?”

dick blushes, his face sheepish. “i could make it for you, if you wanted.”

“what i want is an apology.” you look him up and down.

your ex boyfriend grimaces, squeezing his eyes shut. “understandable.”

“on your hands and knees. i think this is one of those begging-for-my-forgiveness type situations, don’t you think?”

dick nods, a strand of hair falling across his forehead. his eyes flash.

“you don’t have to worry about getting me on my knees.”

one heartbeat pounds behind your ribs, the other one between your legs. you huff out a weird sort of nervous laugh.

“oh, i’m not joking.” his lips curve up in a smile, one you know very well. he obviously plans to make up on lost time.

you forgot how charming he was. you have to practically force yourself to breathe. you’d do anything to have the real thing over his old t-shirt. you give yourself a mental shake.

he can flirt all he wants, but what about your heart? you look up at him, and his face softens, his pupils huge.

“can you get us untangled?”

dick nods, whistling for trouble. he frees an arm and grabs trouble’s collar, guiding him back around so the leash falls to the sidewalk. you step back, taking a deep breath. you’re cold at the sudden loss of his body heat. it’s a harsh reminder of reality. you grab trouble’s leash, having him sit. you look at your ex boyfriend.

“thanks.” you take another deep breath. “can you promise me something, though?”

he nods, his face serious. “anything. anything at all.”

“promise you won’t break my heart again?” you hold out your pinky finger.

dick coughs, surprised at your words. he looks down, taking a shaky breath. he’s in disbelief, he’s ecstatic, he’s on top of the world, he…has a lot of apologizing to do.

when he looks back up to offer up his own pinky, his eyes are shining. the sight makes your heart melt. you take his finger in yours, beaming up at him.

he gives you a soft smile in return. “i promise.”

you take your hand back, feeling the most hopeful you have in a month.

a breeze picks up, and the whiff you get reminds you of your earlier predicament. you look down. dick looks down too.

shit. literally.

you forgot about the fact that trouble had used the sidewalk as a toilet.

“is that trouble’s?” he asks.

you nod, making a face. “i forgot the poop bags.”

“rookie mistake.” dick shakes his head, smiling. you look him up and down, and then turn, walking back the way you came.

“text me about that recipe!” you lift your hand in a wave.

“but-..uh, the shit?” he calls after you.

“that’s alllll you, baby!” you yell back, practically skipping away. you feel like you’re floating.

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luveline · 19 days ago

Note

also if you’re still taking requests for some established relationship criminal minds fics…

could i possibly get spencer and his bombshell when she’s having issues with not getting as hungry as she usually does? like she eats her fill but her fill is less food than she normally eats? this is very self indulgent so feel free to skip 🙏

thank you for requesting <3 bombshell, fem

“Spencer, lovely?”

Spencer believes that only occasionally do you use your powers of seduction against him. This stringing of words, Spencer, his name, rolling off of your tongue, and lovely, so quaint and said so nicely, how you’ve called out, that’s unintentional. That’s pure niceness.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, getting up to find you.

The point of you staying at Spencer’s apartment is to see you, why isn’t he seeing you? (Dramatic. He invites you to spend time here because you want to and he wants you, and whatever you do while you’re here is fine by him.)

You’re in the kitchen peeling fruits. A whole fruit salad, green and red apples cut in small slices like prep for an apple-sugar crumble, peeled tangerine, strawberries, pear, grapes. “Nothing is wrong,” you sing-song. “Wait, why do you think that?”

“No reason.” He sweeps as much of your mountain of peels and off cuts into his hand as he can and carries it to his mini compost bin. This’ll take some time. “You did call me, though?”

“Yeah, I want your opinion.” You slice through another strawberry.

Spencer cleans the last of the peels away, rinses his hands, and creeps up on you. “Why are you drawing this out? Is it an important question? Don’t be nervous,” he says, wrapping his arms around you from behind. Your shoulder is soft where he presses his nose.

“It’s not important, I just wanna know if you think it’s okay to melt some chocolate and drizzle it over the fruit. Is that greedy? Am I gonna go into a sugar overload?”

“That’s not greedy.” Spencer laughs softly, kissing your cheek.

You pull away from him, but only to look at him with your own smile. It’s one he’s starting to know rather well, the I love you smile, fond and indulgent at once. It makes you look like you’re gonna pinch his cheeks.

“You’re hungry, right?” you ask.

“Yeah, I am.” It’s a lot of fruit. Spencer doesn’t know exactly why he says it at that very moment, but he suggests, “How about we make a little pot for fondue instead. That way if we don’t eat it all now we can put the fruit back in the fridge.”

“You just want me to feed you,” you tease.

Spencer hadn’t thought about it, but the image is a pleasant one. “Fondue was invented purely for dessert purposes at first, no seduction involved.”

“Let’s involve it anyway.”

He grins. “Before or after we eat?” he asks lightly.

You tell him before in a way that reminds him that you aren’t just his best friend but his twin flame, drawing him close to you, your hands fragrant with orange rind and the sweet strawberry juice staining your fingertips. You take his face into your hands as he holds your waist, and when you kiss him, he smiles the entire time.

“It wasn’t just chocolate,” he says, pulling away. “It was cream and cherry liquor, too.”

“We should try it one day.”

Spencer resists the urge to grab your face and squeeze your cheeks. “Yeah, we will.”

He melts some chocolate and heats a small round dish in the oven. He pours the chocolate into the dish and you, impressed, sing his praises as you make some lemonade slush in the blender. It’s a fresh, cold snack for a warmer day. You take it in the living room with the window wide open and the drapes drawn back, sunshine at your feet.

Spencer pulls you into his lap as much as you’ll allow him on the couch, the coffee table dragged to be in front of you, the TV remote held hostage under your arm. You dip a slice of apple into chocolate and offer it to him.

Spencer accepts it. He finds, as the bowl empties, the chocolate cools, that you don’t seem to eat very much. He slows his grazing in case he’s being greedy, but after what could only be a handful of fruit you’re done, curling into his side and hugging his leg. Your attention is on the TV but your legs wiggle restlessly.

“Is something on your mind?” he asks.

“I don’t feel very hungry.”

“That’s okay. It was a lot of fruit, angel, we can wrap it up.”

“I feel like my appetite is awful lately,” you lament, sitting up to tip back across his lap, your shoulders to his thighs, looking up at him with a frown. “Do I look like I’ve lost weight to you?”

Spencer holds your cheek. “I haven’t noticed anything, are you worried?” he asks, rubbing the softest part of your cheek with his thumb.

“I guess it’s not a bad thing?” You wince.

“It’s not a bad thing if you don’t feel hungry, but you need to eat. Maybe we can just switch to some dense food for a while. Protein bars and nuts, stuff like that.” Spencer leans down to tap your noses together. You laugh under your breath. “Do you want to lose weight?” he asks, frowning.

“Not really. I’d prefer not to.”

“Okay, good. You’re perfect like this,” he says. “We can just make sure you get your intake through whatever means necessary until we figure out what’s changed. Maybe you’re just changing. We can start having smaller meals throughout the day. It’s better for digestion.”

You reach for a curl, twisting it around your fingers. “I have an appetite for you, at least.”

“That’s corny,” he says.

“You love it, though.”

Spencer pushes the ‘diminishing appetite’ search results from his head. He can worry later, when you’ve been well and thoroughly kissed.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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be-good-to-bugs · 2 years ago

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#the bin #this year will be better than most bc i dont have to celebrate this holiday i dont like. the people round me still celebrate but they dont #make me celebrate with them which is appreciated. my parents are the ones who made me and who made it suck so im happy i dont #gotta be there for that. holidays are a guaranteed panic attack but this tear things are different which is a bug relief :)#anyway. its cold as fuck here which is really annoying :/ but its been getting a bit warmer so hopefully it will be above freezing soon #its been -6 for awhile but today it was 5 which is really good. tomorrow might be colder though bc i think its supposed to snow #i dont like winter here. usually i do bc i also hate sunlight bc of summer depression but the cold sucks too. ah well :/#im still in a better mood than most of this week! unfortunately i cant leave the house but im still feeling better! i should draw today

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pretty-little-mind33 · 2 months ago

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Dave Lizewski x best friend fem!reader

Summary: Dave is devastated by your supposed crush on his alter-ego, Kick-Ass.

Genre: hurt and comfort, fluff

Warnings: jealous!Dave, swearing, not explicitly consensual kissing (both of them are okay with it however!), blood

~ thank you for requesting, anon!! this was a very cute idea!~

DAVE LIZEWSKI MASTERLIST

The comic store was more crowded than usual that afternoon. You, Todd, Marty, and Dave had squeezed into your usual booth, with you and Dave squished shoulder to shoulder as he rambles on and on as you stare at the small TV in the corner which is playing more news coverage about Kick-Ass. Your cheeks feel significantly warmer.

"She's drooling again," Marty quips, and all three boys turn and look at you with interest.

"Who knew girls were so horny," Todd comments with a smirk and sucks his milkshake obnoxiously.

Dave, unlike the other two, looks positively flustered as he watches you. His eyes land on the screen and then on yours.

"Hm, doesn't the suit look good on him," you hum and sigh, turning to your friends with a serious expression. "Do'you think he's young? He looks young."

"Looks around our age, so I suppose that means you're free to bone him, Y/n." Todd shrugs.

That makes Dave blush crimson.

You slap Todd's arm from across the table. "Shut up."

"We all know you want to," Marty adds and sips his milkshake like he knows something. You chew on your lip, subconsciously leaning into Dave as you turn back to look at the TV and let out an amused sigh as your eyes stay glued onto the screen.

This isn't the first time you're pining over Kick-Ass. You've been doing it for a while now and it makes Dave blush every damn time. Some part of him feels like an asshole for feeling that way about you considering you aren't drooling over him. Not over Dave, your best friend.

No, you're drooling over a superhero who is completely different from himself. His alter-ego, someone who is undeniably so much better than him.

How can Dave Lizes ever compete with Kick-Ass?

Todd kicks him in the shin but you're too entranced to sense the tension.

"What?" Dave mouths and his cheeks flame crimson when Todd points between you and him and makes obnoxious kissing noises. Dave sends his friends a frown and shushes them with a shake of his head. Luckily for him, you aren't paying any attention as you watch the screen, your mind focused on only one thing.

How does Kick-Ass look so damn good in that stupid costume?

* * *

Sirens go off as Dave limps away, blood staining his lip. He's not badly hurt, just a little shaken up. It isn't like he could feel much of the pain anyway. He sniffs and wipes a hand under his lip, groaning. The air is cold and the night is cloudy. He's been so preoccupied by you that he's been shit at his job—or worse than usual.

Dave prepares to walk home when he hears a small sniffle from behind a tree in the park he's walking by. He frowns,something stirring in his chest as if pulling him toward the sound.

Someone could be hurt.

He forces some bravado as he rounds the park gate and approaches the tree, the sniffling becoming louder.

His body stiffens when he sees you huddled behind a dress, wearing that dress you'd shown him a thousand pictures of. Realization dawns on him. Corey Addams. You did have a date with him tonight.

That dickhead.

"What are you doing here?" The question comes out weirdly interrogating as Dave's voice lowers in an attempt to have him be unrecognizable to you and you jump, looking up as you frantically paw at your teary cheeks.

Dave feels like a jerk as he watches your face morph into one of panic and he kneels down, now panicked in his own way. "Hey, hey, it's okay. M' not gonna hurt you. Are you okay?"

He's fumbling with his words, unsure if he's even doing the right thing. You blink at him, your eyes still watery. Dave knows you have a crush on Kick-Ass so this must be extra embarrassing and in his panic, he looks you up and down and fakes a much too insightful educated guess as a way to make you comfortable.

"Did you just get dumped?"

You scrunch up your nose in confusion and shake your head. Your crying has ceased and you huddle your arms around your legs, resting your chin on your knee. You sigh and look around at the mostly empty park.

"I'm hopeless," you say, not looking at Kick-Ass in particular.

Dave swallows and fully sits down now, unsure what else he can do. As a superhero he wants to make sure you're safe, and as your best friend, he has a burning desire to stay with you. You turn to him and chuckle out a laugh, sniffling.

"What's so funny?" he asks, confused.

"Me. I'm a fucking joke," you whisper, laughing as you try not to cry again. "I'm so stupid."

"Why do you say that?" Dave asks in a rush, his voice high again. You're too busy self-loathing to hear the change.

"Because I spend all my fucking time pretending that the one boy I am in love with, I am not actually in love with him! A-and then I go around trying to forget him with any boy that smiles my way or simply walks by and they're never good enough."

Dave thinks you're talking about Kick-Ass and he panics even more. "I-"

"Like how fucking stupid am I? Rambling on and on about you when all I want is him?"

Dave's heart sinks. Shit, he thinks, so you must be talking about Corey then.

After a beat of silence, he says, "I'm sure your date likes you back." He assumes you're most likely overwhelmed since you had said Corey didn't dump you and it's late and—

"My date?" you laugh, "What are you talking about? No. Not my date. My best friend," you ramble on, tears still falling. "I love him and I've messed it up too many times pretending like I don't. I- and Corey told me David's in love with Katie and I just feel so stupid."

You're too distraught to catch on to how weird it is that Kick-Ass has more information about your date than he should as you ramble on and on to him as if he understands who everyone is. Dave can tell you're mostly just speaking out your frustrations.

"D-David?"

You nod, sniffling. "Dave. My best friend, the guy I'm in love with," you tell him and look at Kick-Ass, groaning immediately and then holding your face in your hands like you'd just done something shameful. "Fuck, I'm sorry, this is inappropriate. I'm so sorry I am wasting your time—"

You lower your hands and then he's kissing you before you can finish the sentence. His hands cup around your cheeks as he leans in and continues to kiss you.

You lose yourself in the moment for a bit, your very real yet superficial attraction to Kick-Ass kicking in as you kiss him back until reality finally snaps in and you push him away, scrambling up.

"What the fuck?!" you scream, feeling violated as you wipe your lips with your hand.

Dave panics now fumbles with his costume. "W-Wait, let me explain," he mutters as he frantically pulls at the zipper behind his neck and throws his mask onto the dirt. He looks up, brown curls falling in front of his eyes. Your eyes widenand you blink at him.

"Hi," Dave mumbles, his blue eyes shining as the tips of his ears burn.

"Fuck!" you shriek and lean forward, kneeling again as you now cover his face with your hands, all kinds of emotions overcoming you. "What is wrong with you?!" You grab his mask, shoving it in his hands. Your heart is pounding as he stumbles, falling over from the roughness of the way you're tackling him.

He grunts and holds your waist with one hand as he pushes your hands away to pull his mask back on. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry!" he mutters as he attempts to zip it up. You mumble curses and take over, adjust the fabric as you sit back on your heels and simply watch him.

Dave.

Kick-Ass is Dave?!

You swat his arm repeatedly. "You fucker!!"

"O-ow!" Dave winces as he shields himself from the blows.

You continue to hit him, your mind unable to process anything anymore— "I can't believe you hide this from me! And that you kissed me?! You fucking perv!" you shout, with no real bite behind your words as your palm rests on his toned chest.

Fuck.

Dave sits back as your assaults calm down and groans. "I'm sorry."

"Bullshit," you clap back, staring at him. "You aren't sorry. You did that on purpose because I–" you cover your mouth with your hands, "I admitted I have a crush on you."

Dave grins widely, some confidence coming back as he nods his head.

"Kill me," you mutter.

"Kiss you?" he asks. He's looking at you with his striking blue eyes, chewing on his lower lip. You look at him in his costume and now it all makes sense. Duh, Dave Lizewski is Kick-Ass! It's all in the eyes. How could you have missed them?

"What?"

"You just asked me to kiss you."

You pause for a moment but then you break out into laughter.

"I didn't," you say.

Dave leans away, hurt written across his features. "But you want it," he tries. "Y/n I have loved you for years. How could you not know?"

He looks completely serious. You know him. You've known him for years. You know that look behind his eyes. Your expression softens and warmth fills your chest.

"You can't go around kissing girls without their permission," you whisper, inching forward as your eyes drift to his lip. Dave's lips.

Dave leans in, almost entranced as he senses your movements. You've always been connected but this feels like a magnetic pull. "I don't plan on kissing any other girls, just you," he says honestly, not even trying to make a move, "but I should have asked you. I'm sorry. I should have—"

It's your turn to pull him in, crashing your lips against his. It isn't smart, kissing Kick-Ass out in the open like this but neither you nor Dave seem to care. Your lips move rhythmically with his and you wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer.

Dave's gloved hands tighten around your hips, pulling you in even closer as he loses himself in you. You feel so at ease as he deepens the kiss, only pulling away to catch your breath. Dave's looking at you from behind his mask, his chest heaving.

You lean in and hug him, holding him close. "Why didn't you tell me you liked me?" you whisper.

Dave wraps his arms around your middle. "Why didn't you?" he counters.

You grin against his shoulder. "Smartass."

Once you pull away again, Dave stands and holds out his hand. He pulls you up and looks around. Thankfully no one is around. "Let me walk you home?"

You nod and nudge his shoulder as you walk. He laughs and pushes you away a little—just like always. A comfortable silence falls upon you both and you itch to hold his hand. Instead, you ask softly.��

"You're careful, right?" You look at his costume.

It's barely audible but Dave hears you anyways. He nods.

"Yeah. I always am."

Your hand grazes his and your chest fills with warmth.

"Good. Can't lose you when I've only just gotten you."

tags: @earth-elemental18, @lqrlei, @princesssunderworld, @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader

#dave lizewski #dave lizewski x reader #dave lizewski x fem!reader #dave lizewski x y/n #dave lizewski x you #dave lizewski blurb #dave lizewski fluff #dave lizewski fanfiction #dave lizewski fanfic #dave lizewski imagine #dave lizewski kick ass #aaron taylor johnson fic #aaron taylor johnson fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson kick ass

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meo-eiru · 3 months ago

Note

If Silas got sunburned from being in the sunlight too much without protection, would he still breastfeed us with his breasts burned?

Yes he would👍

Well Silas can quickly heal himself with some blood but for the sake of this ask let’s say he didn’t. Maybe he wants to keep his blood for you and thinks it would be a waste to drink it himself.

It would hurt a lot I imagine, he has very soft and spotless skin. If he stays under the sun his face, shoulders and the top of his boobs would get red very fast. But pain can’t stop the sheer force of will, no matter how much it hurts Silas would breastfeed you anyway.

His breasts would be a lot warmer than usual, it’s like sucking on two warm pillows. Silas would let you squeeze them with your hands or even bite them with your teeth even if he’s wincing from pain the whole time. It’s alright, he’s okay. You’re more important than the pain he’s feeling. His body belongs to you and if you want to squeeze his warm and red tits like stress balls you can do it.

On the contrary I think he would quite like it if you licked over the burnt areas. Spit can usually help wounds get better and even if Silas doesn’t know that just having that liquid over the red areas makes him feel a bit more refreshed. He would constantly let out sighs of relief and pleasure as you lick over his boobs, his head slightly tilted backwards. His face was already red due to the sunburn but he’d get even more like a tomato with the added pleasure.

If you want him to actually heal himself with the blood you’d probably bite some blood out of him (from wherever you want to bit, Silas likes it when you bite him), collect the blood in your mouth and then make him drink it by kissing him. He would be a bit surprised at first and might try to say no because you deserve that blood not him!! But he also can’t resist you so it’d just turn into a small make out session filled with the taste and smell of his blood + aphrodisiac spit.

After that Silas would be extra clingy with you because awww you healed him🥺💕💕 He knew you loved him as well🥹❤️

#asks #silas #yandere elf #yandere elf x reader

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aestherin · 4 months ago

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KEEP MY HEART

goal 32: you but in meow

NOTE: i finally finished despite procrastinating hehe this was sitting in my drafts for more than a week help me 😭

You probably should have told Scaramouche that you have already arrived at the home address he sent.

If you did so, maybe you wouldn’t be outright welcomed by his mother instantly opening the door after a few knocks.

You’ve already seen her before during some of their games, albeit from a far distance. She looked pretty from afar, yes. But she was heavenly up close. With her long deep violet locks weaved into a simple braid, her perfect skin that gives no evidence of her being a mother of a boy already in college, and her electrifying eyes… you’re starting to realize where Scaramouche got the godly genes from.

“Good afternoon, uh— madam?” You greeted awkwardly. “I’m here to visit Scara, no, Kunikuzushi. He’s a… friend!”

At your introduction, the older woman let you inside their home and motioned you to sit on the sofa. She swiftly made her way back and forth the kitchen and provided you with a tray containing some drinks and some snacks.

You told her that she didn’t have to, but she only smiled in response. As she sat down in front of you, you started to drink from the glass, only so that you can find something to distract yourself from the awkwardness.

“So that’s why your built looked familiar. You’re probably the same woman I saw in the pictures with my son. You’re his girlfriend, right?”

You coughed.

Before you can even reply, Scaramouche’s mother motioned upstairs. “Nevermind that, I don’t want to keep you for long. My son’s room is upstairs, first door from the left.”

“Also,” she lightly muttered as you were getting ready to go upstairs. “Please do treat my son well. I’ve put him through a lot, you see.”

An apologetic smile was plastered on his mother’s face. Was this what Scaramouche meant when he was messaging you? Was his mother somehow enlightened and came to a realization about their issues? You wanted to know, but you didn’t want to pry.

Besides, the main reason why you came here was so that you could uplift Scaramouche’s mood.

“I will.”

Meanwhile, Scaramouche was cooped up in his room, restless. He’d admit it to no one, but anxiety was slowly creeping in his heart at your lack of replies to his message. Why did you suddenly stop replying? Were you getting to him safely? Did you somehow get lost and went to some place with no reception?

‘Damn it, I should’ve just picked her up,’ he thought.

‘Should I call her?’

‘But what if —‘

Three knocks brought his thoughts to a halt. “Kuni? It’s me, [Name].”

Of course it’s you. You're the only one allowed to call him that anyway.

Heavy and hurried footsteps stemmed from the other side of the door once you made your presence known.

“[Name],” he breathed immediately upon swinging his door.

You were welcomed by his disheveled yet still attractive appearance as well as the sight of his room — simple yet stylish with tints of mainly white, black, and blue. The room looked so cold, yet the comforts of his white bed helped it seem warmer. Apart from that however, a warm and furry feeling on your legs also welcomed you.

“Meow.”

You broke eye contact with Scaramouche and instead took a peek at what the little ball of black fur was doing below. His cat (as you assumed) was now cuddling you, purring restlessly against your feet.

“That’s weird.”

“Huh?”

“He usually doesn’t like strangers,” Scaramouche said.

He then eyed you as you crouched down to pick up his cat. “Well you see Kuni, they said cats tend to mirror the personalities of their owner.”

“Who the fuck even said that?” He raised his brow. “And even if that’s true, so what?”

“Well you like me, so of course Scarameow likes me.”

Scaramouche huffed. “Scarameow?”

“You didn’t give him a name, right? I feel bad not calling him anything, so I just thought of that on the spot.” You grinned. “Besides, it seems like he likes it.”

You cut yourself off by lightly poking the black cat’s nose. “Don’t you, Scarameow?”

The man just sighed at the approving purr of his own pet. He was left speechless by how easily his cat warmed up to you. It really weirded him out, considering that it was the very same cat that always just hisses at other people aside from his owner.

“But why that… horrendous name?”

You looked back at him only to flash a disapproving frown. “Horrendous? Isn’t it cute?”

“No.”

“What?” You gasped. “Can’t you see he’s literally a cat version of you?”

“It’s like he’s you… but in meow…”

He speedily brought his palm up to his lips in an attempt to conceal something. It was a poor attempt, however, as the muffled noises he tried so hard to stop forced their way out.

And for the first time in so long, he finally laughed.

KEEP MY HEART — scara x reader smau

previous . masterlist . next

NOTE: my reference for thinking of scara's bedroom haha >> [click here]

TAGLIST I (closed)

@kararisa @krnzysh @syriiina @your-kuya-pogi @xiaosonlybeloved @xiaomainlmao @cindywasneverhere @coquettemaiden @sunsethw4 @lunavixia @calickoh @arealistonao3 @youthingazi @zyilas @mondaymelon @yukiipc @heartswonder @st0pthatsgay @ozzierenato @astreaa-express @shewolfmiko @lovelyycherries @myaaones @countessqin @aloveablechaos @letthewindlead @lunaavity @local-blueberry-boy @luminestars @layla240 @useless-potatho @atlaszi @alatusorrow @lahsram2201 @sakiimeo @user11918163805279 @vqazx @neigesprincess @kunicrush @yoursockstinks @hotgirlshit5 @mikctp @crucnhice @apotatouwu @yuaenri @sammybeefangirls @miko1ly @deffenferofjustice @etherisy @sagegreenthinks

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cera-writes · 4 months ago

Note

Hi! So I recently got into X Men again after watching Deadpool & Wolverine and by god do I love Gambit! I found your blog and your stuff for him is so good! I do have a request for you if you don’t mind. Could I please get a spicy first time with Gambit and fem!reader? It’s not her first time with a guy but maybe there’s been some tension building up and he wants to show her what a real man can do if you know what I mean lmao. I’ll leave it pretty open ended, I trust you’ll make something awesome! ❤️

A/N: Saaaaame! My obsession with this man is unwavering 🫦 Pairing: Remy LeBeau "Gambit" x F!Reader Tags: sex in the water, pining, fluff, shy!reader, pnv sex Summary: Reader decides to take a swim in the lake by the mansion. Having never had much luck with guys in the sexual department, Remy decides to show the reader how good it can really be and joins her in the water.

A Moonlit Dip

The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the tranquil waters of the lake that nestled quietly at the edge of the X-Mansion grounds. You had slipped away from the main building, seeking a moment of solitude and perhaps a bit of refreshment in the cool water. The air was thick with the scent of pine and wildflowers, a welcome respite from the ever-present tension of mutant politics and training sessions.

As you waded into the lake, the water felt like silk against your skin, soothing the day's stresses. The gentle lapping of the waves against the shore was the only sound, save for the distant chirping of crickets preparing for nightfall. You dove under, letting the cool embrace wash over you, feeling more alive than you had all day.

Emerging from the water, you wiped the droplets from your eyes, only to find Remy LeBeau, aka Gambit, leaning casually against a nearby tree, his eyes twinkling with amusement. His usual smirk played at the corners of his lips, and he pushed off the tree, sauntering towards you. You let out an inhuman shriek, startled at seeing his face looking directly at yours. "Jesus, Gambit..." you huffed.

"Bonsoir, chérie," he drawled as he fought back the urge to laugh, his Cajun accent thickening the syllables. "Looks like I ain't the only one who knows how to find a little peace 'round here."

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks, not expecting company, especially not him. "Just needed a break," you admitted, treading water to keep yourself afloat, suddenly aware of how exposed you must look in the fading light.

Remy chuckled, removing his trench coat and tossing it aside. "Well, since you're already in d'ere, mind if Gambit join you?"

Before you could respond, he was peeling off his shirt, revealing a muscular chest that hinted at countless hours spent training and staying fit. After that came the rest of everything below the belt. Your breath caught in your throat as he stepped into the water, his eyes never leaving yours. The water seemed to part around him, as if welcoming its master back home.

"Ain't no gators in dis lake, mon cher," he teased, swimming closer. "But Remy reckon ya might have somethin' to worry 'bout anyway."

His proximity made the water feel suddenly warmer, the space between you charged with an electric tension that had been building for weeks. You remembered the lackluster dates, the guys who failed to ignite even a spark, and here was Remy, making your heart race with just a look. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't rubbed one out to just the sound of his accent alone as it filled your thoughts when you were by yourself.

"What would that be?" you managed to ask, your voice sounding faraway even to your own ears.

He closed the distance between you, his hands finding your waist beneath the water. "Me," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "Remy seen you wit' them, chérie. Seen how d'ey couldn't hold a candle to what we could be."

His confession hung in the air, heavy and real. You turned to face him, your hands resting on his shoulders, feeling the strength beneath the smooth skin. "And what is that?" you challenged, though your voice trembled slightly.

Remy's smile was soft, almost vulnerable. "Something real, somethin' hot enough to burn away all those other cold nights." He leaned in, his lips a breath away from yours. "Let Gambit show you, belle. Lemme show you what a real man can do."

The world around you faded into insignificance as his lips met yours, soft at first, then deepening with a passion that took your breath away. His hands roamed your body, exploring, claiming, igniting fires wherever they touched. You responded in kind, your shyness melting away under his confident touch, giving in to the desire that had simmered between you both for so long.

In the water, limbs intertwined, breaths mingled, and the night seemed to hold its breath, watching the two of you explore each other with a hunger that was both new and ancient. Remy broke the kiss, trailing his lips down your neck, his hands guiding you deeper into the water, where the privacy was absolute.

"Tell Gambit whatchu want, chérie," he murmured, his voice husky with need.

You gasped as his fingers found a sensitive spot, your body arching toward his touch. "Show me," you begged, your voice breaking with emotion. "Show me everything, Remy."

With the moon as your only witness, you finally surrendered yourself to him.

With a low growl, Remy obeyed, his actions deliberate, every movement calculated to send you spiraling into pleasure. The water became an extension of his body, caressing you in ways you never imagined possible. You clung hard to him, nails digging into his skin as your world narrowed down to the sensations he elicited, the heat building within you like a dam about to break. You hissed in pleasure when he thrust even harder inside of you, feeling every inch of his hard dick throbbing inside your walls.

"Dass'it, belle," he encouraged, his voice rough with exertion. "Let go for Remy. Lemme see you fly."

And then, with a final, exquisite thrust, you did, soaring through the clouds of ecstasy, your cries mingling with his groans of satisfaction. The world came crashing back, the stars above seeming brighter, the water warmer, and Remy, more breathtaking than ever before.

He held you close, his forehead resting against yours, both of you catching your breath. "Was dat good, chérie?" he asked, his tone raw with emotion.

You nodded, unable to speak, your heart still racing from the whirlwind of sensations he had unleashed.

Remy kissed your forehead, his arms tightening around you. "We should get outta de water, cher. Night's chill settin' in."

You reluctantly had to agree.

His hand found yours as he led you out of the water, the cool night air a stark contrast to the warmth that had enveloped you moments before. The moon cast a silvery glow over the lake, making the droplets on your skin shimmer like diamonds. You shivered slightly, not from cold, but from the lingering thrill of what had just transpired between you. You'd managed to find your clothes in the dark, quickly dressing as Gambit did the same.

"Here, chere," Remy murmured, draping his coat around your shoulders. The fabric was still warm from his body, and it smelled faintly of his cologne—a mix of spice and something uniquely him. "You catch a chill, Gambit'll never forgive hisself."

You smiled up at him, feeling the weight of his concern, and more, the depth of his affection. "Thank you," you whispered, pulling the coat tighter.

He nodded, his eyes soft as they met yours. "Let's walk, yeah? Getchu warmed up proper."

Hand in hand, you strolled along the lakeside, the silence between you comfortable, filled with unspoken words. The crickets had resumed their song, and somewhere in the distance, a whippoorwill, its call echoing through the trees.

"Been wantin' to do dat for so long," Remy confessed suddenly, breaking the quiet. "Ever since dat night at the bonfire when you laughed at my terrible joke and didn't even care dat everyone else thought it was lame."

You chuckled, remembering the event he spoke of. "It wasn't that bad," you defended, though you knew he was teasing.

"Maybe not," he agreed, "but it was enough to make Remy think maybe, jus' maybe, you were different. That'chu saw me, not jus' Gambit the playboy, but Remy."

Your heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his voice touching a place deep inside you. "I do see you," you admitted, pausing to face him under the moonlight. "All of you. The good, the bad, the Cajun charm... which I love, by the way." You'd confessed.

Remy laughed softly, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "And here Gambit thought he was bein' subtle," he joked, though his eyes remained serious. "You deserve someone who's upfront, someone who can give you all de fire ya need, chérie."

You leaned into his touch, the vulnerability between you both palpable. "And you think that's you?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Gambit know it is," he replied without hesitation, his gaze unwavering. "I wanna be de one to stand by your side, through thick and thin. To show you every day whatchu mean to me."

Tears pricked at your eyes, moved by his declaration. "Remy..." you breathed, searching for the right words.

He shook his head, placing a finger gently against your lips. "No need to say anything now. Jus' think about it, yeah? Let it sink in."

You nodded, understanding his request. This was a moment to savor, to reflect upon, not to rush through with hasty words.

They continued walking, the conversation lightening as Remy regaled you with tales of his youth in New Orleans, the mischief he and his friends had gotten into, and the lessons he had learned along the way. You listened intently, enchanted by his stories, by the man himself. You didn't think it was possible to fall for him even more but he had that charm all the same.

As the path wound closer to the mansion, Remy slowed his pace, his expression turning thoughtful. "Y'know, dere's somethin' I've always wanted to show you," he said, his tone mysterious.

Curiosity piqued, you looked up at him. "What's that?"

He grinned, the familiar glint of mischief returning to his eyes. "A secret spot, up in de hills. It's where I go when I need to clear my head, or jus' feel...free."

Your interest was piqued. "Sounds magical," you mused, imagining the possibilities.

"It is," he confirmed, his hand squeezing yours. "Maybe one day soon, Gambit'll take you de're. Show you de view, letchu feel de wind in your hair."

Excitement bubbled within you at the prospect of sharing such a personal place with him. "I'd like that a lot," you admitted, smiling.

As they reached the edge of the woods, the lights of the mansion peeking through the trees, Remy stopped once more, turning to face you fully. "Tonight was...incredible," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for lettin' me in, chérie."

You shook your head, unwilling to accept gratitude for something so mutual, so transformative. "There's nothing to thank me for," you insisted. "It was...perfect."

His smile widened, a flash of white teeth in the darkness. "Perfect, huh? Well, maybe next time we can aim for legendary d'en," he teased, his eyes twinkling.

Laughing, you nudged him playfully. "Oh, is that so? And what would make it legendary, pray tell?"

Remy leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "How 'bout we find out together?" he whispered, his voice low and inviting.

Your pulse quickened at his suggestion, the promise of what could be hanging in the air between you. "I think I'd like that," you admitted, your voice catching ever so slightly.

With one last, lingering look, Remy turned towards the mansion, tugging you gently along. "C'mon, chere. Let's getchu inside before you turn into an ice sculpture. Gambit'll cook ya up somethin' to warm your soul."

You laughed, the sound carrying on the breeze as you followed him, your steps lighter than they had been in ages. As you walked, wrapped in his coat and his affections, you couldn't help but feel that perhaps, just perhaps, this was the beginning of something truly extraordinary, like the man himself.

#xmen #x men 97 #remy lebeau #cera writes #gambit #gambit x reader #remy lebeau x reader #f!reader

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