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luvbugs-blog · 29 days ago

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ask you something. (iwaizumi hajime x reader) chapter one

>> you grow up with a lot of questions, and hajime learns to answer them <<

tags/cw: very very slightly suggestive, a little unhealthy/codependent if you really stare at it with both eyes open, iwa realizes some things about himself and deals with friendship guilt, innocent reader

masterlist || chapter two

it starts when he’s seven.

“haji,” you say, reaching over and trying to put another block on his tower. you topple over, bringing the whole thing down. he just helps you sit up and starts the tower again while you finish your thought. “can i ask you something?”

you and that question.

“mm?”

“have you ever held hands before?”

“with oikawa,” he mutters plainly, very carefully stacking the red blocks together because he likes them that way. you’re both sitting in the backyard of your house, the spring breeze soft as it passes through the grass between you.

“with ‘kawa?” you ask, leaning close. your eyes are big and wide, and hajime wonders — in a brief moment of maturity — if you’ll have them when you’re older, too. if he’ll like them when he’s big, or if he just likes them now because he’s small and you’re smaller.

“for school,” he says. “buddies hold hands.”

“i know,” you pout. “i’m starting buddies soon.”

the buddy system, hajime thinks. you mean the buddy system, but you just call it ‘buddies’. he usually lets it go when you don’t know things.

“i’m scared to hold hands,” you say, stacking a small pile of blue blocks together messily.

“what’re you scared for?” he asks roughly. he makes you cry sometimes, when he’s too mean. he doesn’t mean to be, but his mom tells him he yells a lot.

“i dunno!” you say, your bottom lip wobbling tellingly. “never done it before.”

he clicks his tongue against his teeth, setting his block down and reaching over. he takes your hand, clammy and smaller than his, and holds tight. his frown is deep and frustrated.

“what’s so scary about this?”

you stare down at your joined hands, and then you look up at him with a big smile.

“nothin’, i guess!”

you scoot by his side and hold his hand for the rest of the playdate. he stacks blocks with one hand.

—

“haji, can i ask you something?”

he glances up at you through his lashes, grunting his acknowledgement while he works. he’s got to finish his homework before oikawa calls, because he knows the annoying little shit will come around eventually to rope him into practicing in the backyard.

“have you ever hugged a girl before?”

you do that a lot. since that first day in your backyard, you’ve done it. you ask what it’s like to have a seatmate in school, what it’s like to share food with a friend, what it’s like to have a playdate at a classmate’s house. most of these things you asked years ago, in elementary school. you ask things he doesn’t even think to worry about, but he doesn’t find it odd that you worry. you’re a worrier – he’s always known that.

he’s in his third year of middle school now, nearly in high school. you don’t ask about childish things anymore like seatmates and making friends.

one day, sometime last year when you were starting at kitagawa daiichi, you realized that hajime’s a boy and that you’re a girl. the questions had changed then, and he’d had a feeling that middle school and puberty were changing the way you saw the world but not him. not really.

to you, he’s still haji, even if he is a boy. ‘boys are weird,’ you’d told him once. ‘i don’t understand them.’

he doesn’t have the heart to tell you that he doesn’t understand girls, either, and that knowing you doesn’t change that. because he gets the feeling that you don’t think the way other girls think.

you ask about things that everyone worries about when it comes to issues of boys and girls and things that change between them. the difference, hajime thinks, is that no one else asks them. not so blatantly the way you do.

but he knows that you’re innocent, and he worries that if he tells you it’s weird to ask, that you might never ask again. that you’ll worry silently, and – while he’s always known you’re a worrier – he’s never known you to be silent.

so he lets you ask, because he likes helping you not worry. he likes that you’re innocent, because it feels like he knows more. that he can be the one to help you know more, too.

because even though it’s weird to ask, hajime had never found it weird that you ask.

“we hug all the time,” he mutters, running through his fractions like busy work. he’s still rough, but he’d gotten more patient with you. it’s easier to be patient with you than it is with other people, even with your never-ending stream of questions.

“no, i know that,” you say, and he can see you chewing on the end of your pencil. he reaches over blindly, pulling the eraser from your mouth with a quiet ‘that’s not good for you’. you just sigh, dropping the pencil in the spine of your workbook and letting it fall shut. “but we hug like friends.”

“we are friends-”

“you know what i mean!” you pout, giving a small tantrum that makes him smile at his fractions. “have you ever hugged a girl in a way that’s not like friends?”

he gives in finally, sighing loudly and tossing his pencil down, too. his fractions worksheet is done.

“no, y/n. i haven’t hugged a girl in a way that’s not like friends.” he shrugs. “i don’t even know what that means.”

“you do!” you argue, pulling out your phone. you pull up a video, an episode of one of those cheesy romance dramas you like so much. “you do know how boys and girls hug, dont’chu?”

when you hit play, he watches the guy on the screen wrap his arms around the woman’s waist, pulling her close, a love confession yelled into the wind. she throws her arms around his neck and shoves her fingers through his hair, crying.

hajime blinks, leaning away from you when you pause the video and look at him expectantly. “don’t we hug like that?”

your deadpan makes him feel a little dumb. he doesn’t like feeling dumb around you.

“no, haji. we hug like this-” you lean forward, throwing one arm over his shoulder and one around his torso. it’s awkward, considering you’re sitting on different sides of the little table in his room. “or like this-” you move both arms around his waist and forcing his up to your shoulders. “or like this!” you give him a one-armed side hug now.

“what’s the difference?” hajime says, pulling away and pointing at your phone. “they hugged like that, too.”

“ugh, never mind,” you say, throwing your phone down and going back to your workbook. he feels frustrated that he doesn’t understand. that he hadn’t helped you.

“alright, fine!” he snaps, shoving his body away from the table and standing. “c’mon, up- up, up!”

you scramble to stand, eyes wide. “what-”

“c’mon, hug me-” he says, gesturing you toward him. he does it again when you don’t move, impatient and annoyed. “hug me, damn it!”

he was too rough with you again. your eyes betray it, even when you don’t let him know, and your lip wobbles. but you step toward him, anyway, so he tells himself to be gentle with you now. a calming sigh and a reminder of what you are to him is all it takes for his jagged edges to melt away.

when you set your hands carefully on his shoulders and slide them around his neck, he realizes that, no, he’s never hugged you like this.

he closes the distance between you, his arms wrapping loosely around your waist. he pulls you in, flush to his chest, and bends slightly to accommodate your height. your hands touch hesitantly to the back of his head, and then your fingers are in his hair. he can feel your heart beating against his chest, steady and strong but a little nervous.

he feels a little nervous, too.

—

“haji,” you whisper in the dark. hajime swallows hard, because you only say his name like that when something’s about to change between you. he’d faced away from you on purpose, the two of you cramped up in his twin-sized bed.

“can i ask you something?”

it’s the middle of the night, in his third year at seijoh. he’s going to america soon, and he knows you’ll follow him. you follow him everywhere, and he waits patiently – eagerly – for you to do so.

he’s just won another game, just before playoffs are set to start. you’d greeted him and the rest of the team outside the locker rooms, your arms thrown around him and a squeal of excitement in his ear before he’d even noticed you were there.

mattsun had made a joking pass at you, asking if you’d be so kind as to give him a congratulatory kiss. oikawa had delivered a brutal punch to the taller man’s arm before you could react, telling him to leave you alone.

hajime wonders how oikawa had known he’d been upset with mattsun’s unserious crack.

he’d brought you home with him, asking under his breath if you wanted to stay the night. you’d done it often, ever since your first year at seijoh when you’d asked if he’d ever had a sleepover with a girl. he hadn’t had it in him to tell you then that the two of you had slept at each other’s houses since you were kids, that you’re a girl and he’s a boy — because he’d known that that wasn’t what you’d meant.

“sure,” he grunts. he probably could have stayed silent until you’d assumed he was asleep, but there’s a part of him that knows what you’re going to ask and an even bigger part that wants you to ask it.

“have you ever kissed a girl before?”

his heart shouldn’t jump the way it does, but it does anyway.

“no.”

“oh.”

you’d learned at some point, without him telling you, that asking things like this isn’t socially acceptable. he’s not sure if maybe you’d mentioned it to your girl friends and they’d interrogated you about it, but recently your questions don’t come in questions.

they come in silences.

but you still ask him, anyway. and there’s a terrible, evil part of hajime that preens when you do, because it means that you’d decided asking him is worth it, society be damned. that, even though you’d never ask anyone else, you’d always ask him.

that part of him likes when you ask. it feels like a secret, this habit that you have of coming to him for things you aren’t supposed to. he likes it. he craves it, waiting for the next time you discover something you want to try.

it’s terrible and evil – hoping that, as you grow up, the things you’ll want to learn about will be grown up, too. that you’ll want to learn about grown up things with hajime.

terrible and evil. something as simple as a kiss feels terrible and evil, because he doesn’t want you to experience this first with anyone else.

so he turns, hearing the question in your silence like he always does.

you’re facing him, staring right at him with wide eyes. your bottom lip is trembling, but not because of him. it’s because you’re nervous, like there’s a terrible and evil part of you that knows it shouldn’t be him, too. that iwaizumi hajime is a friend, nothing more.

but if you’re going to try something, then you’re going to try it first with him. you’d always been that way.

when hajime props himself up on one elbow and stares down at you in the dark, you flatten your back to his mattress. a thought flashes through his mind, seventeen years old and characteristic of guys his age, of you in his bed, flat against his mattress in ways you shouldn’t be.

he should be the one to make the first move, because that’s the whole point. it should be him that guides you.

but this is his first kiss, too. and he’s nervous as fuck.

so he just stares down at you, swallowing hard and hoping you can’t hear how loud his heart is in the dark silence of his bedroom.

when you reach up slowly after a moment, wrapping one arm around his neck and letting your other hand, trembling and cold, sit on his bicep, he feels less bad about letting out the most embarrassing, shaky breath he’s ever drawn.

your mouth is soft and makes his brain go fuzzy with static. he hopes his lips aren’t chapped and that he isn’t bad at this.

your tightened grip on him and the way you shuffle marginally closer are terrible for feeding his ego. his desire to keep doing this, to keep being your first.

he sets one nervous hand on your waist, and your lips part for the sole purpose whispering ‘haji’ against his when he does.

this isn’t how things are meant to be between friends, but he’s so fucking happy they are. and he has no clue if you’re allowed to know that.

—

a few months later, you ask if he’ll go on a fake date with you, just to show you what dates are like. just in case, you say, and he knows you mean while he’s gone next year.

just in case things change again in the year he’s apart from you.

he doesn’t like that, but he shoves it aside in order to give you the best first date you’ll ever have.

and then he walks you to your door, like a gentleman should. he tells you that boys shouldn’t try to kiss you on the first date, that they should be respectful and not push your boundaries. because the moment you’d said ‘just in case’, he’d realized just how awful boys can be, and he’d wanted to warn you of those boys. boys like him, who don’t tell you what’s on their minds while you’re on dates with them.

but he’s leaving in two weeks, and you’re looking at him like he doesn’t count as one of the boys that shouldn’t try to kiss you. because he’s never counted. he’s never been one of those boys you couldn’t understand. because he’s always been haji.

so he kisses you anyway, with the same breath he’d used to tell you that boys who do this are terrible and bad. and you kiss him back, arms around his neck and chest pressed to his and his name on your lips, whispered and full of so much more than just his name.

hajime realizes he’d do this all over again — again and again, every time you ask, no matter how much he shouldn’t.

—

he leaves for california. you follow him a year later. things have changed.

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luvbugs-blog · 29 days ago

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try it. (matsukawa issei x reader)

tags/cw: roommates to lovers, somnophilia, fingering, mattsun sends porn as a coping mechanism, size kink if you really squint

word count: 3.1k

“i’ve always wanted to try that.”

issei chokes on his beer when you speak. you point at the tv in explanation, as though he needs one. the scene playing has just started out with a couple in bed, spooning while they fuck. everything’s covered, but it’s easy to tell through the blanket that the woman’s leg is lifted, her back arching against the man’s chest while she cries out lewdly.

“never been fucked in the morning?” he jokes, keeping his eyes trained on the screen so he doesn’t have to look at you. his laugh sounds awkward even to him.

“mm-mm.” you shake your head, draining your wine glass, and he can’t tell if that’s a confirmation or a rejection of his guess. but he can tell that that wine bottle on the coffee table is empty, because you would never say these things to him sober.

“not that part,” you explain. frowning when you realize there’s no wine left, you rise from the couch, disappearing from the room and padding down the hall. issei sighs in relief at the moment alone, running his fingers through his hair and tugging hard.

“she’s drunk,” he whispers to himself, a reminder. “she’s drunk, and she’s your friend. and you can’t afford rent anywhere else, you stupid fuck.” that’ll do it. he’s broke as shit, and you’re a good friend. he can steel his nerves with those facts.

“she was asleep when he started,” you call from the kitchen.

fuck.

issei drops his head back, hitting it on the wall a few times with purpose. fuck, fuck, fuck.

you come back in, and he straightens, yanking the throw blanket over his lap. you’re too drunk to notice.

you’re too drunk to notice much of anything, really — including your own running mouth.

“she was asleep,” you say again. “and he fucked her anyway—“ you rush to explain yourself, holding a hand out when his eyes find yours, wide and uncertain. “consensually, obviously.”

that doesn’t help. he’d been assuming that, but you confirming it makes it worse.

somnophilia, his mind whispers, the word latching itself to you.

“i dunno,” you shrug, your refilled wine glass brought to your lips. “i think it’s hot, i guess. i’d try it.”

he really can’t afford rent anywhere else.

—

you’re scouring roommate ads in a hungover daze the next morning.

what is your problem?, you think, rolling over to groan into your pillow. you open your bank app, staring at the number in your checking account and wondering uselessly if it’s enough to afford a place on your own. one where you’ll never have to look mattsun in the face again.

why did you tell him that?

your brain flashes through two bottles of wine and drunk admissions, and you switch over to uber eats, deciding that cooking is simply not an option today. standing in that kitchen for more then four seconds and risking running into him is not an option.

you know why you told him that. you know exactly why you told him.

you told him because, despite every coping mechanism you’ve tried over the years of living with him, matsukawa issei persists in being the most attractive man you’ve ever met.

you told him because you wanted to test the waters. why you would ever test the waters with somnophilia, of all things, and not something standard and vanilla like ‘making out with a friend just happens sometimes’ or ‘drunk hookups aren’t so bad’, you will never know.

but you’d told him because you think about it. you think about him, doing things like that. things that aren’t standard or vanilla or easily explained or plausibly deniable.

you think about matsukawa issei fucking you while you sleep. and maybe it’s happened one too many times. maybe now it’s all you think about, enough that it comes up in your stupid, drunk admissions.

maybe — just maybe — you hope he might take you up on it, now that it’s out there in the open like that.

but that’s just a maybe. so you’re looking for another apartment, on the very real chance that he’s going to call you a freak and never speak to you again.

your phone buzzes in your hand.

it’s a text from him.

[10:17 AM]

mattsun: [link attached]

your face crumples into a frown. “what?” you murmur, jabbing a thumb on the link and hoping it’s not a virus.

your phone starts moaning at max volume.

you scream, slamming down on the side button to lower the volume as the video intro plays through. your eyes fly to the title.

milf fucked by son’s friend while she’s sleeping

there’s no fucking way he just did that.

[10:19 AM]

mattsun: smth like that?

“matsukawa!” you scream, rolling out of bed and storming out into the hall. he’s laughing loudly from his room, and you all but kick his door down. “what the fuck is your problem?!”

he’s in bed, cackling gleefully and covering his face with his blanket — but his eyes are anything but shy when he looks at you.

“just trying to ease the tension-“

“by sending me porn?!”

he shrugs and gestures to his phone. “im just saying, you’re not alone! at least—“ he glances down at the screen “—3.8 million other people are into it, too-“

you scream in frustration, turning and stomping back to your room. his laughter follows, echoing through your door even when you slam it.

he does it for two weeks straight. every few days, you wake up to a new link, each video titled something more obnoxious than the last.

guy takes step-sister while she takes a nap

mom wakes step-son up with a special surprise on his birthday

repairman finds sleeping beauty home alone

each one draws an irritated screech of his name and the echoing giggles of satisfaction from his room.

you could stop it. in fact, he’s asked you more than once if you want him to.

‘if you really want me to stop, i’ll stop, he’d said in your kitchen last week.

‘just say the word,’ he’d reminded you on his way out one morning.

‘i think you and i both know how important consent is,’ he’d murmured just two nights ago, leaning on your doorframe, his eyes hot on yours.

you’d shivered under his gaze and pretended to be engrossed in something on your phone. you’d hoped he couldn’t see the way you’d pressed your thighs together, but when you looked up, he was already staring down at them.

he’d met your eyes again and just hummed, flicking his dark eyebrows up at you before turning away. your phone had buzzed with a new link only seconds after his bedroom door had clicked shut.

you’re certain he knows why you haven’t told him to stop. that the truth is that you don’t want him to stop. you’re certain he’s testing the waters now, too.

because each video he sends you gets closer and closer to being about roommates.

your phone buzzes in your hands. you wonder if he knows that you watch each one, waiting for him to pull the trigger on the one that sits unspoken in the space between you.

he does, a week later.

—

you’ve caught him, issei realizes belatedly.

maybe he should have noticed after you started sitting closer to him on the couch. or maybe after you’d refused to tell him to stop sending you porn. or maybe even after he’d sent you something titled ‘roommate can’t help himself while she sleeps’ at 4 in the morning and you hadn’t called the cops on him.

maybe he should have realized you’d caught him after any one of those. but he doesn’t. he doesn’t realize it, not until this very moment, as you’re standing from the couch and bending over to clean the table of empty beer bottles before bed.

he doesn’t realize it until he realizes you’re not wearing any underwear.

he glances at you shamefully when you bend at the waist, hoping you don’t look back and catch him. and then he coughs violently, choking on his own spit and drawing your attention.

he waves you off, blushing furiously and not even bothering to stop his eyes from flying to your ass when you just shrug and bend over again. your pajama shorts have ridden up, but there’s no lacy edge on pink panties where there should be.

yes, he’d noticed years ago that these shorts tend to ride up and not mentioned it. yes, he knows what kind of panties you wear. yes, he has a favorite pair.

what are you gonna do if you find out, call him a pervert? he’d sent you roommate somnophilia porn and you’d made him coffee in the morning.

“‘kay, goodnight,” you mumble, and issei wonders if you’re shy about it or if he’s just hoping you are.

“g’night,” he breathes, eyes finding yours. you keep eye contact all the way out of the living room. your eyes drop to his lap at the last second, and he watches a grin stretch across your face just before you disappear from the room.

he looks down at his lap, and then he swears under his breath. he’s visibly hard in his sweatpants.

—

he feels like a pervert. he really feels like a pervert.

he stands in the hall outside your bedroom, one hand on the knob, feeling like a pervert. it’s 2 in the morning, and he feels like a pervert.

he sighs to himself and turns the knob slowly — ever so slowly, because he knows how it creaks, and he doesn’t want to wake you. he pushes the door open carefully, and then he finds you in the dark, moonlight spilling over your body.

you’re completely naked.

you’re on your stomach, blankets draped over your lower half and one knee bent out toward the wall. issei can see the expanse of your bare skin and the swell of your breast, but you’ve got your back slightly to him, so he can’t see everything.

but it’s enough.

he breathes hard, stepping into the room and shutting the door silently behind him. he runs his fingers through his hair, tugging hard and giving a soft sigh as he pads over to you.

when he lowers his knees to your mattress, it’s with his heart in his throat and his cock straining against his pants. you look so innocent, so sweet like this, even while he’s sliding the blankets off of your skin and exposing you in the moonlight.

is he really allowed to want this as badly as he does?

your breath is steady, only changing slightly when he braces himself behind you, propped up on one elbow. he scoots toward you, breath caught in his throat, and then slides his hand under the back of your knee. you shiver, probably because his fingers are ice cold, and he keeps his eyes locked on the side of your face.

when you don’t give any other sign of waking, he lifts your leg and hooks it backward over his knee, opening your body up for him.

he swears under his breath, staring down at you in the moonlight.

you shift, adjusting to the new angle of your body with a sigh. your back presses to his chest, and issei has to press his lips together so he doesn’t moan at the sight of you.

he keeps his eyes on your face when he slides his fingers along your inner thigh, watching you intensely as his icy fingertips dance close to the spot between your thighs that’s radiating heat.

when he cups your bare cunt, your skin breaks out in goosebumps, but you don’t move otherwise. issei moans now, because your body knows what he’s doing, but you don’t.

he’d had a feeling before — in the weeks between that moment on the couch and this moment right here — that he’d unlocked a new, previously untouched fantasy. that his reaction to your drunken admission might have been about more than just being attracted to you.

he sees it now. now, as he’s sliding two fingers between your folds and watching as you remain completely unaware, he realizes that you’ve done something to him. that you’ve made him want to do this to you, tonight and every night after.

it takes every ounce of his self-control not to shudder and moan in your ear when your pussy twitches under his fingers, reacting to him even when you don’t.

he drops his head to your chest, eyes locked on your face as he takes one of your nipples in his mouth. your lips part, and he freezes, but the sigh that falls out is nowhere near conscious, so he keeps going, sucking and licking and grazing his teeth over the bud while he massages your cunt with his now-warm fingers.

the first sign that you’re reacting is the growing ease with which he’s able to push his fingers against you. your entrance becomes slick, and he can’t help that he pushes his hips against your ass in response, seeking relief. he drops his touch lower and swipes the pads of his fingers through the mess there, spreading it all over your cunt.

when he circles your clit, slippery and warm now, your breathing changes, harder and rougher. the rise and fall of your chest pushes at his mouth, and he latches on with fresh fervor, watching your brows furrow and your lips twitch at the onslaught of sensations.

it shouldn’t be as easy as it is for him to push his middle finger past your entrance.

“fuck”, he whispers despite himself, mouth slipping off of you with a gentle pop and eyes rolling back in his head. your walls pulse around his finger, warm and velvety and wet beyond belief. his cock twitches hard in his pants as he slides his finger in and out of you, searching for that spongy spot that’ll wake you up.

he knows you might have wanted him to fuck you like this, but he can’t help himself anymore. he doesn’t have it in him to be careful anymore.

when his ring finger joins his middle, it’s with intent. the push is rough, bullying your cunt open with the size of his fingers, no doubt longer and fuller than you can get on your own.

you shift under him, a quiet noise of question leaving you, and he lifts his head, attaching his lips to the crook of your neck.

“y/n,” he whispers, more a moan than anything else. “need you.”

he sucks on the column of your throat while you come to, his fingers curling and spreading inside of you — his sloppy attempt to prepare you for him.

“h-huh-“ your head lifts slightly, and then you’re slamming it back against the pillow, your back arching. “oh, my god, mattsun-“

he almost comes in his pants when you say his name like that.

“couldn’t help myself,“ he starts, shaking his head and pushing his body against yours almost desperately. “you were so pretty.“ your cunt tightens around his fingers in response, and he files that away for later. keeps it in mind, the things that make you react like this. “need you so bad, y/n-“

“yes, god yes,” you breathe, a whine trapped in your throat. you turn your head, back still pressed against his chest, and drop your still-sleepy eyes to his lips.

the coil under issei’s navel tugs hard when he realizes how well he can read you.

he pushes his mouth against yours eagerly, moan unrestrained when your tongue slides against his. he wonders if you know how often he’s thought of this moment, years of wanting you and craving the feeling of you coming undone under his fingers.

“please,” you whisper against his lips, back arching when he pushes the pads of his fingers against that spongy spot that makes you whine. “more, mattsun.”

he groans, shivering when you pull his bottom lip between your teeth. “not yet — it’ll hurt,” he murmurs, leaning on every molecule of self-control.

“i can take it,” you just say, pushing your ass back against his aching cock. “promise.”

he never had that much self-control to begin with.

his moan comes out in a shuddered breath, overpowered by the sound of you whining when he slips his fingers out of you. he shoves his sweats down to his knees, meeting your eyes and seeing the urgency he feels reflected in your eyes.

when he slides his cock between your folds, it’s with a choked groan and a heaving pant in your ear.

“can i- are you sure-“ he stutters, already lining himself up at your entrance.

“please, please, please,” you babble, arching your back to make the angle easier on him.

you come around his cock before he’s even halfway in.

there are stars in his eyes by the time you’re done.

you cry out for him, shaking and clenching down hard, and he can’t do anything except bury his face in your hair and keep your leg lifted high with a trembling hand.

“fuck,” he breathes, voice tight. “fuck, y/n-“

“more, mattsun,” you sob. he thinks you might be the girl of his dreams.

pushing the rest of the way in, he shoves down his own orgasm, fighting and kicking and forcing it away so he can last more than thirty seconds inside of you.

he only manages a minute before he’s spilling into you with a stuttered moan of your name, face buried in your neck and head full of static.

you’re just slumped against him by the time he comes to his senses, breathing hard and synced with his.

“sorry,” he mumbles into your hair, ears burning with embarrassment. “i swear i usually last longer than that-“

you laugh, tired and still weak but bright all the same. “yeah — so do i.”

he snorts, pulling out slowly and letting your leg drop closed, trying his best not to moan at the feeling.

“are you sure that was okay?” he asks, a tiny inkling of doubt still seeded in his veins. you just giggle, whispering his name in fond exasperation.

“sorry, which part of me sleeping naked was a warning sign?”

“shut up,” he mutters, curling himself around you and feeling the beginnings of exhaustion start to drain his energy. “i’m staying here tonight. i don’t do one-night stands.”

you just turn in his arms and wrap your arms around his neck. “was i that good, mattsun? i was asleep for half of it.”

you’re gonna be the thing that kills him, he just knows it.

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luvbugs-blog · 29 days ago

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─── ハイキュー!! INSATIABLE

kenma, tsukki, kageyama, hinata; 2,472 words; smut and fluff, porn w/out plot, oral (fem!receiving), oral (male!recieving), throatfucking, multiple orgasms, tipsy!sex, fingerfucking, cumming inside, cowgirl, morning sex, almost cockwarming, needy!kenma, meanie!tsukki, wine drunk!tobio, and truly insatiable!hinata

bllk ver.

summary: they always want more, more, more.

a/n: rmbr when i used to write mostly fluff and plot? yeah. me too. this, sadly, is not one of those instances. i guess in the spirit of kinktober... hooray?

─── 研磨 KENMA

it is never enough — even though at first glance, you wouldn’t think of kenma as the kind of person to be so needy. but something about you sets him off — something about the way you fist your fingers in his hair, or the way your voice always hitches over the syllables of his name —

“ken — ma — ah - hah…”

“mm? wh-what is it?”

he licks his lips, reveling in the tang of your juices currently coating his tongue, his darkened eyes flickering over the length of your body; there’s sweat beading at his temples, but years of being in sports has desensitized him ever so slightly to the sticky discomfort. and plus, this is exactly the kind of strenuous activity he doesn’t mind participating in once in a while.

you squeeze your eyes shut, the strain in the backs of your thighs burning as he casually presses you knees back and back and back, dipping down to lick at your sopping cunt.

"ken - ma — ngh!” you ruck up against his mouth, only for him to grin and pull back, wiping a hand along his lips to gather the slick.

“think you can come again for me?”

you whine, peering up at him through damp lashes, your body still buzzing with the remnants of the last two (or was it three?) orgasms he’d pulled out of you just with his fingers and mouth. your mind fizzles white at the edges, your thoughts disjointed and static.

“wanna — want your cock kenma —”

“mm,” he hums, pressing a soft, placating kiss to your knee as he runs an absent thumb over your clit just to watch your hips jump, “i know but… i like watching you cum like this. so…” he drops another kiss at on your inner thigh before dipping back down to lap softly at your puffy folds, “gimme one more and i’ll give you whatever you want, yeah?”

─── 月島 TSUKKI

so everyone knows he’s just a bit childish, just a bit petty, just a bit vindictive. so everyone knows he likes getting his way, and is a bit too stubborn.

so, when you swallow over the length of his cock as he bullies it down your throat, a hand fisted in your hair, his gaze almost cool as he watches you struggle to keep him in your mouth, you can’t say you didn’t kind of ask for it — mouthing off the way you did, pushing all his buttons from the second he’d gotten home till he’d dragged you out of the kitchen and into the bedroom and told you to get on your goddamn knees.

you’d dropped like a good little girl, a thrill tingling up your spine, because isn’t this what you’d wanted? missing him all day, a delicious, delirious heat curling at the base of your tummy, itching for the way he’d fuck you till your vision blurs.

“c’mon, i know you can open wider than that,” tsukishima runs an appraising thumb along the curve of your cheek, thrusting his hips forward even as you struggle to catch a breath. he thumbs at a tear, a smirk twisting the edge of his lips, a sadistic glint flashing behind his bespectacled eyes.

“there we go — that’s it — nngh — shit —”

you revel in the way his hips stutter, in the sting of pain that comes from his fingers fisting your hair too tight. you brace yourself and lave your tongue along the underside of his twitching cock, feeling the veins pulse angrily beneath your touch. he hisses above you, color pluming in his cheeks as he resorts to taking you by the back of the head and fucking your throat proper.

you hum around him as he jerks into your mouth, your own cunt clenching around nothing, the material of your panties sticking uncomfortably to your skin as you shift your thighs. above you, tsukishima narrows his eyes and tuts.

“quit that.”

you whine, going still even as he continues to fuck your throat, his breath going shallow, the faintest fog tinting up his glasses before he shoves you down on his cock and you feel him pulse over your tongue for a second before he yanks back and lets the white ropes of cum splatter across your face. you squawk slightly, licking at your lips before pouting up at him.

“you got cum in my hair!”

tsukishima only scoffs, wiping a bit from your cheek to press a finger into your mouth. you shoot him a half-hearted glare before sucking the digit clean, your nipples now straining against the materials of your shirt, feeling rubbed raw with sensitivity. there’s a damp patch on your panties and you tug at his hips eagerly before he swats you away.

“oh now you wanna be nice?” he asks, squinting down at you as he jerks your chin between two fingers.

you purse your lips, “i just missed you, okay?”

tsukishima scoffs, but he doesn’t deny you as you push him back onto the mattress and straddle his thighs.

“fine then, show me how much. and i might let you cum tonight.”

you pause halfway through kicking off your panties. he chuckles, laying back, propping both hands behind his head, his long, lanky form stretched out like a five course meal over the material of your sheets.

“you’re being mean,” you say, finally ridding yourself of your panties to crawl over his body, settling yourself over his hardening cock one more.

“you started it,” he hisses, even as his palms land on your hips, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass to shift you along his length, your lips falling open at the friction.

“s-so if i ask nicely enough…” you say, circling your hips if only to hear him gasp, “will you finish it?”

─── 飛雄 TOBIO

you should’ve known, you should’ve known what you were getting yourself into when you’d decided to send him a cute little mirror-selfie, dressed in nothing but one of his huge t-shirts, the hem hiked up just enough to let him see that you’re wearing nothing underneath, your nipples tenting the fabric in the wane light, your face half-covered by the phone — you should’ve known.

“m-mm—fuck —!” your heels kick uselessly against the bedsheets as tobio holds you to his mouth, his eyes sharp and dark and focused, his fingers holding your thighs open, his grip pressing divots into your skin as he sinks his tongue into your greedy cunt, sucking on your clit with a loud, gratuitous moan. there’s a flush working up his cheeks, and a glassy, glazed-out look to his eyes, amplified by the half-finished bottle of chianti sitting on the bedside table.

“one more —” he pants out, his breath hot against your twitching clit, your thighs straining against his hold as you whine, glancing down to find him running his tongue over his lips, his chin glazed with your sweet slick, bangs stuck to his forehead as he presses his cheek to your leg and smiles up at you.

“jus’ gimme one more, i know you can do it —” he drags his mouth along your skin before lowering his mouth back to your puffy lips, sinking his tongue into you far enough to make you scream. pleasure frissons up your body, making your toes and fingertips tingle — you can’t help but whine at the fact that he hasn’t even put his cock into you yet tonight but you can’t find it in yourself to complain. he’s made you cum more times than you can count, and still he’s relentless.

once, you’d asked him, jokingly, if he kept a sex journal — like his volleyball journal — where he meticulously tracks his progress, successful sets vs. unsuccessful ones, wins and losses, game strategies and various attack and defense formations. he’d cocked his head, his mouth half-full of a flatbread, that yes — he does. and did you want to see?

“i — i thought i’d just… keep track because…” he swallows his mouthful of food and looks anywhere but at you, “i want to make sure ‘m always making you feel good.”

and right here, right now, you can’t find it in yourself to do anything but fist your fingers in his hair and moan his name into the humid summer air as he works you towards yet another climax with nothing but his mouth and tongue.

“t-tobio — fuck-fuck — fuck — !”

he moans against you, grazing his teeth along your swollen clit just hard enough to push you over the edge, and when you cum around his tongue again, he pulls back with a savage, blissed-out grin, licking his lips even as he cages your body below his, trailing delicate fingers along your sides till he’s cupping your cheek.

“so pretty…” he mumbles, more to himself than anyone else, his gaze flickering over your face, down the length of your now sweat-slicked body, your knees falling open for him, your stomach rising and falling with the weight of your uneven breaths.

“tobio — tobio — n-no more teasing — please —”

he grunts, puffing out a laugh against your lips as he leans down to kiss you, sucking your tongue into his mouth as he nudges your legs apart with his knees.

“look so good like this… gonna fuck you now, yeah?” he asks, reaching down between your bodies to tease at your entrance with his cock, groaning as you whimper and ruck up against him, sensitive from the overstimulation. you make an abortive noise as he pushes into you, your knees jumping slightly as your abused hole flutters around the intrusion, his cock stretching you out the way his fingers and tongue hadn’t before.

“s-slow — tobio —” you tug weakly at his arms, your mind a hazy mess of pleasure and pain and the feeling of tobio’s lips trailing along your neck.

“nnph… sure… we’ll go slow… but we’re not done till i say we are.”

─── 翔陽 SHOUYOU

too much — it’s like he doesn’t know the meaning of the word. or, maybe he’s nothing’s ever too much when it comes to you, because like this, with you trembling above him, your thighs shaking on either sides of his hips, your hands braced against his chest, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough, let alone too much.

“mm — so — so good —” he soothes, panting slightly as he digs his heels into the mattress and fucks up into you, bouncing you over his lap, licking his lips at the way your mouth falls open, “so cute — fuck — s-so wet —”

he bites back another groan as you clench down around him, head falling forward as he shifts beneath you, reaching up to tug you down, catching you in his chest as he chuckles by your ear.

“a-ah… tired?” he asks, his pace never once faltering even as he strokes your hair, his thumb kneading at the nape of your neck as he presses a soft kiss into your shoulder. he feels your thighs clench as he adjusts his angle and your whole body tenses.

“sh-shou — mmngh —”

“f-fuck — so tight —” he grunts slightly as he twists his whole body to swap your positions, lying you gently on your back so he can hoist your knees up and fuck into you proper, letting out a pitched whine, when he feels you fluttering around him, the unmistakable signs of yet another orgasm coursing through you. he fucks you through it, leaning down to mouth at your tits, the nipples hard and raw from his fingers just minutes before.

he’d woken up with a prickling want twisting his gut and he knew nothing but an entire morning in bed with you would sate it. outside, the brilliant brazilian sun is already slating into the hotel room from the wide, drop-floor windows, and he considers — briefly — that later, the pair of you might go for a dip in the ocean, just to cool off. he grins at the thought, pushing your legs up till he’s got you folded in half.

“c’mon — c-cum for me again —” he coaxes, rucking down into you till your eyes roll back, fucking into you so deep you can nearly feel it in the back of your throat, the white, pin-prick flashes of pleasure popping behind your eyes as he hooks your knees over his arms to hoist your entire lower half off the mattress.

“c-can’t — can’t shouyou — ‘s t-too much —!” you’re almost babbling, tears caught in your lashes as you try to look up at him, but you can’t help squeezing your eyes shut every time he teases his cock against your g-spot, pulls back slow just to fuck back in fast, make you feel each ridge and bump and vein as he rocks down into you.

“mm… i know, i know…” he coos, biting his own lips with a rough pant, “but… you look so good cumming on my cock — i just — wanna — wanna see it again — hm?” he leans down to press a sloppy kiss to your mouth, sounding at once somehow whiney and demanding both, “just — just one more —” he says, nosing along your jaw to suck a hickey into the junction of your throat.

you arch up into him, fingers scrabbling at his back as he starts to pick up the pace, whimpering as another orgasm rockets through you, leaving you squirming beneath him as he chases after his own orgasm, groaning as he watches you fall apart for him, his cock twitching inside you before he’s dropping his head into your shoulder with a hard shudder.

“mm… good morning, yeah?” he asks, even as he pulls back and you pout up at him, swatting weakly at his arm.

“d-don’t move so fast — m’still sensitive…” you make to cover your eyes with your arm but he tugs it away, leaning down to kiss you.

“i like you sensitive,” he murmurs, shifting to keep his cock pressed inside you, chasing shivers through your limbs at the friction.

“don’t be mean…” you say, letting yourself be pulled into his chest even as he laughs softly.

“sorry waking you up so early in the morning — will breakfast in bed make up for it? i think the room service at this hotel’s pretty good!”

you peer up at him with a tiny grin, “yeah?”

shouyou smirks, cocking his head, “mhm! i mean… you’ll need more energy for our second round later, right?”

taglist: @yaoduriaa @ominouslywritinginmyhead @naomihatake @cheesypuffkins87 @crispynutella @stunies @phroggii @fennecnco @yogurtkags -- join the taglist

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luvbugs-blog · 29 days ago

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♡ TW. Dead Dove // Read at Your Own Risk ; ♡ WC. 1,247

You should’ve known better than to trust the town’s so-called gentle giant.

People always cooed about him, saying how sweet he was, how harmless. A big ol�� teddy bear with a deep, slow drawl and an easy smile. The kind of man that made grandmothers pinch his cheek and young girls whisper about how lucky some woman would be to have a strong, dependable man like him.

But you? You knew better now.

Because that big, sweet teddy bear had you folded in half on his bed, his monstrous hands forcing your legs back until your joints ached, until something deep inside you screamed in protest. The air in your lungs felt squeezed out, crushed beneath his weight, and yet—he didn’t stop. Didn’t even slow down.

His drawl was still there, but it wasn’t sweet now—it was thick with dark amusement, a lazy cruelty as he watched you writhe beneath him. “Aww, sugar, you cryin’?” he cooed, thumbing away the wetness streaking down your cheek, only to smear it over your lips. “Didn’t know you were such a crybaby. Thought you were gonna put up a fight—where’d all that struggle go, huh?”

The bed groaned beneath his weight as he rolled his hips forward, sinking into you with a slow, deliberate force that made you shudder. Your breath hitched—no space, no room, the pressure unbearable. He felt it. He loved it.

“Fuck,” he hissed, half-laughing, eyes flickering down to where your body struggled to take him. His grip on your thighs tightened—too tight, the kind of tight that sent pain spiderwebbing through your flesh, deep enough to bruise. Deep enough to do worse. “You’re squeezin’ me so damn tight, sweetheart. Can feel you tremblin’ all over. Ain’t this just precious? Never thought my first time’d be like this, but damn if it ain’t a dream come true.”

Your mind reeled. First time?

It didn’t make sense—how could he be a virgin when he was fucking you like this? When he was brutal, merciless, dragging it out just to hear you whimper? Every inch of him felt like it had been made to ruin you, thick and hot and relentless. He saw the way your eyes widened, that tiny flicker of disbelief amidst the wreckage of your dignity, and he laughed.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” His grin was wicked, his breath hot against your cheek. “Yeah, sweetheart, you’re the first pussy I’ve ever had. Never had a girl before, never touched one neither.” He leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, his voice dipping into something darker, something breathless. “Guess I was just waitin’ for someone real special. Someone I could break in proper.”

He punctuated the words with another deep thrust, making you choke.

He groaned, shuddering, his fingers flexing against your skin—pressure, deep and unforgiving, grinding down against your bones. You sucked in a shallow breath, but it didn’t help. Nothing helped. His weight was suffocating, bearing down like an animal pinning its prey.

“You’re takin’ it so good, sweetheart,” he crooned. “Thought you’d be fightin’ more. Thought you’d be scratchin’ and kickin’, but look at ya—just layin’ there, lettin’ me breed you nice and deep.”

Your nails scrabbled at his arms, but it only made him grin wider.

“That all you got?” he mocked. “That’s just adorable. Poor thing, don’t even know what to do with yourself, huh?”

The worst part was the heat building inside you, the way your own traitorous body clenched around him, gripping him with every slow, punishing stroke. He felt it too, because his rhythm stuttered for just a second before he growled, slamming into you harder—ruthless now, purposefully cruel.

“Fucking hell,” he panted, “you just beggin’ to be bred, ain’tcha?”

Your vision blurred as he folded himself over you, his weight pressing down, forcing you to take him deeper than you thought possible. You were going to break. You could feel it—your insides twisting, your spine arching too far, bones creaking under his strength.

He was everywhere. His scent, his heat, the low, ragged noises spilling from his throat. And that fucking voice—syrupy sweet even as he mocked you, even as he ruined you.

“Bet everyone’d be real surprised if they saw you now,” he murmured, dragging his teeth over your throat, biting down—hard. Not playful. Not teasing. A claiming.

You yelped, body flinching under his, but there was nowhere to go. No escape.

“Ain’t that funny?” he mused, lips brushing the fresh wound. “Everyone thinks I’m some harmless puppy dog, wouldn’t hurt a fly. But you know better now, don’tcha, sweetheart?”

You whimpered, barely able to breathe through the relentless pounding.

“Aww, sugar, ain’t no use cryin’,” he teased, licking the mark, tasting the heat of your skin. “You were made for this. For me.”

He drew back just enough to look down at where you were stretched around him, where his cock was bullying its way deeper and deeper into a place he had no right claiming. A long, satisfied groan rumbled from his chest.

“Mmm, look at that.” He pressed a palm against your belly, pushing down just enough to make you feel the outline of him, buried to the hilt. “You’re so fuckin’ small compared to me. ‘Bout to split you in two, but your pussy’s still suckin’ me in like she don’t wanna let go.”

He moaned, shuddering.

“Filthy little thing. Gonna make sure you’re stuck with me forever.”

His grip turned brutal, nails digging deep, skin bending under his touch. “Think I’d ever let anyone else touch you after this? Fuck no.”

He lifted your hips, changing the angle, and you screamed as he hit something devastatingly deep. His eyes rolled back, and he laughed, nearly delirious with pleasure.

“Ohhh, you feel that?” he groaned. “That’s what I been chasin’. That’s mine.”

His hips slammed against yours with bruising force, his breath coming faster. “Gonna fill you up so full,” he panted, his grip tightening to the point of pain. “Gonna make sure you never forget who you belong to.”

You felt it before he even said it—the way his thrusts turned erratic, the way his breath hitched. His body shuddered, his muscles locking up tight, and then he was burying himself as deep as he could go, grinding against you, making sure he was locked inside as he spilled himself into you with a deep, guttural groan.

You felt it. Thick and hot, filling you in a way that made your stomach churn.

He stayed there, pressed flush against you, rolling his hips in slow, lazy circles, like he was savoring every second of it.

Then, finally, he leaned back just enough to look at you properly. Dark eyes. Heavy-lidded. Drunk on the sight of you wrecked beneath him. But his grin—his wicked, breathless grin—was the worst part.

“Guess you’re mine now, sugar.”

He chuckled, still grinding against your overstimulated body, his breath warm and sticky against your cheek.

“Ain’t no man gonna want you after I’m done. But that’s alright. Ain’t nobody ever gonna touch you again.”

Just me.

His voice was soft, sweet, but there was no mistaking the possessive growl beneath it.

“I’ll be real good to ya,” he murmured, his fingers tracing idle patterns over your trembling thighs. “Just as long as you remember who you belong to.”

He pressed another kiss against your throat, his lips curving into a cruel, satisfied smile.

“Don’t worry, sugar. I’ll remind you as many times as it takes.”

♡ List of Fandoms and Characters.

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr policy, all characters are all of age.

Ace Attorney: Phoenix Wright

Arcane: PTSD! Jayce

Blue Lock: Shidou Ryusei

Boku no Hero Academia: Hawks, Villain! Midoriya Izuku

Brutal: Satsujin Kansatsukan no Kokuhaku: Hiroki Dan

Death Note: N/A

Demon Slayer: Kyojuro Rengoku, Tanjiro Kamado, Tengen Uzui, Zenitsu Agatsuma

Dishonored Series: N/A

Genshin Impact: Childe, Cyno, Itto, Venti, Fallen! Phainon

Haikyuu!!: Daichi Sawamura, Goshiki Tsutomu, Tendō Satori, Yūji Terushima

Honkai Star Rail: Argenti, Boothill, Caelus, Sampo Koski

How to Live as an Illegal Healer: N/A

Hunter x Hunter: Gon Freecss, Uvogin

I'm Not That Kind of Talent: Deon Hardt

Jujutsu Kaisen: Satoru Gojo, Yuji Itadori

Kill The Hero: Lee Jin-Ah

Love and Deepspace: Caleb

Mobile Legends: Bang Bang: Claude, Julian, Suyou

MONSTER: N/A

Naruto Shippuden: Deidara, Haku, Hashirama Senju, Hidan, Kabuto Yakushi, Minato Namikaze, Shisui Uchiha

One Punch Man: Sneck, Stinger, Suiryu

Reverend Insanity: Fang Zheng

TOUCHSTARVED: N/A

Undertale Multiverse (Human AU): Fresh! Sans, Ink! Sans, Storyshift Chara, Undertale Frisk, Undertale Sans

Wuthering Waves: Aalto, Brant

Your Throne: N/A

♡ A/N. Re-upload lol.

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood. Thank you.

Official TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @save4h , @rofkshinee , @songbirdgardensworld

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ For Reader-Inserts. I only write Male Yandere x Female (Fem.) Reader (heterosexual couple). No LGBTQ+:

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World.

♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.

♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.

♡ Notice #1. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution

♡ Book 6 [you are here]. The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood.

♡ Notice #2. This masterlist is strictly for non-con smut and serves as an exercise in refining erotic horror writing. Comments that reduce my work to mere sexual gratification, thirst, or casual simping will not be tolerated. If your response is primarily thirst-driven, keep it to yourself—repeated violations may result in blocking. Read the RULES before engaging. The tag list is reserved for followers I trust to respect my boundaries; being included is a privilege, not a right. You may request to be added, but I will decide based on trust and adherence to my guidelines. I also reserve the right to remove anyone at any time if their engagement becomes inappropriate.

Test-Phase TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @yanderedrabbles

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luvbugs-blog · 29 days ago

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“NEEDIN’ A RIDE REAL, REAL BAD!!”

HAIKYUU + THIGH RIDING ᯓ⭑ ft. bokuto koutarou, daichi sawamura, kuroo tetsurou, miya atsumu, sakusa kiyoomi, & ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader

contains : explicit smut (18+), thigh riding / dry humping, phone call (keep quiet n ride!), risky sex / very mild: cw exhibitionism, squirting, teasing, praise, kissing <3, hair pulling (you to them), orgasm denial, usage of pet names — 2.9K WC

note : yayya my first haikyuu post on here ! this is my response to this thirst here ૮꒰˶˃ ^ ˂̵˵꒱ა hope u all have fun reading this <3

KUROO TETSUROU.

“Whoa whoa,” Kuroo coos through a breathy chuckle, big hand wrapping around your hip to hold you still against his thigh. “Easy now, pretty thing. Let’s pause for a second, okay?”

The sound of your protests and whines almost make him cave right off the bat. “…Tetsu..” you sulk, corners of your lips curling into a sad pout even when he gives you an apologetic smile before he’s jutting his thumb to gesture at his phone, the irritating melody of his ringtone repeating itself as the screen lights up, “Incoming call from: Kenma!” displayed across the top.

“Sorryy,” he huffs. “Can’t. This one’s important.”

He’s giving you a reassuring squeeze around your hip, a silent reminder that he’ll give you everything you need in a few minutes, but you’re not having any of that. Your arms come to stubbornly wrap around his neck before he can pick up the call, sugar sweet voice already making pleas only a second later.

On any other given day, you would have let him take the call with only an irritated huff— just not today. Not with the way you can already feel your orgasm running away from you. “P-please, please Tetsu,” you sob, “I was so close. Can’t wait any longer.. please?”

His eyes are widening a bit at the unfamiliar desperation in your voice, grunt slipping out when his cock reacts to it too, twitching and slapping against his stomach— a reoccurring habit that seems to only occur whenever you give him that needy little look of yours.

“Awww,” he whispers, and you barely catch the strain in his voice. “Well I’m sorry for ruining your moment, angel.”

You’re practically purring as soon as you feel his hand come to lightly cup your jaw, immediately melting into his touch as he smiles in response. “Ah— fine,” Kuroo caves as soon as he sees your hands coming to cutely hold his wrist in place. “Guess i can’t stop you if you need it so bad. But listen here..”

His thumb moves from your jaw, digit pressing into your bottom lip to angle your face at him. The look you’re giving him is just to die for, pouty lips soft against his thumb and you’re peering up at him through those pleady eyes— as if there was even a single chance that Kuroo would ever deny his pretty girl of an orgasm in the first place.

“Nothing crazy. Deal? Kenma hears and..” he presses a little harder into your lip, watching the way your tongue comes to swipe at the invasive finger. “Me and you? Are never hearing the end of it.”

You’re swiftly nodding as soon as the words register, hands coming to rest on the muscles of his shoulders as you resume your movement the next second, gasping at the way your clit catches against his thigh. “Kenma?” You hear him hum, tucking his phone between his cheek and shoulder— quick and casual.

Maybe too casual.

“Mmm,” his eyes flicker back towards you when you take in a sharp inhale. “So it’s about that. You sure you don’t wanna meet up to go over it?”

A loud gasp slips out from you when he abruptly grabs you by your waist, and your hands slam over your mouth, Kuroo tensing beneath you. “…Hm? Yeah, I’m listening.” He chuckles, regaining his composure in an instant as he starts to rock you back and forth against his leg— and fast.

The roughness has your face contorting, nails digging deep into his shoulders as you try and resist the strong hands guiding you back and forth— try and slow him down a bit, delay your oncoming orgasm by even second if anything at all. You hadn’t expected it to come back so fast, and.. you both knew good and well that you weren’t gonna be able to stay quiet.

You give him a look, something resembling your best attempt at a glare, but he’s ignoring it— casually chatting with kenma about something you can’t quite catch. You’re only left to bite your lip, eyebrows deeply furrowed as you desperately fight the knot tightening inside your belly, thighs clamping against his own as he flexes his quad straight into you.

“Oh,” Kuroo says, hand leaving your waist to pick up his phone again, finger hovering over the ‘mute’ button, and your body is falling limp onto his chest, hands balancing yourself on him as you peer up at him through tired eyes and a heavy pant. “Actually..”

“..Looks like I got a bit of a problem to take care of here first.” He smiles. “So give me a minute, yeah?”

MIYA ATSUMU.

“Gonna have to keep that pretty voice of yours down.” Atsumu’s lips brush against the shell of your ear, big hands tight around your hips as he drags you up and down his thigh. “Or ‘Samu’s gonna hear ya.”

Your hips stutter against his leg, drawing a sharp gasp from you- and he curses under his breath. Osamu would be back any second now, and yet he’s got you seated on him, your lounge shorts pulled to the side so he can draw one quick orgasm out of you before the three of you head out for dinner.

Because you— Atsumu’s impatient lil bunny, or so he calls you, just couldn’t wait until after the dinner to get a quick treat.

“‘M trying.” You whisper, voice breathless and whiny, and you tighten your embrace around his middle, burying your face deep into the fabric of his sweater. “Feels ‘s good… so good— need more..”

“I know, I know— later, yeah?” He sounds unsteady from how roughly he’s moving you against him, muscles of his thigh flexing and hardening underneath you. “Gonna give it to ya real good. stuff ya nice and full. How’s that sound, dirty girl?”

You want that.

You know exactly how easy it’d be for him to get you gushing underneath his cock if it weren’t for your insistence on him not cumming. And well.. it kind of made sense to him— considering how your last creampie went. His mind thinks back to how you looked with his cum dribbling down your thighs as you nervously clamped them together, and how no one seemed to noticed the juices dripping into a neat little puddle beneath you.

It’d be so easy— he’s got you all mapped out and knows you like the back of his hand. He could just push those pretty thighs of yours up to your face, hold them nice and still as he pummels the deep spot inside you that has you chanting his name over and over, and your cunt would be gushing right after that.

“‘Tsumu.” You choke out, tightly latching onto him like a koala, “‘M gonna cum..!”

“You are, aren’t ya? I can tell.” He groans, and his thigh bounces up into you, mumbling a curse under his breath when you squeal at the roughness. “Show me that pretty face when you’re lettin’ go.”

A couple more rolls of your hips and you’re gasping and stuttering against him, Atsumu pulling you just right against his thigh as your eyes slam shut, knot inside you violently snapping in an instant as you tremble underneath him, your mouth falling open in a silent scream.

“That’s my fuckin’ girl.” His voice comes out deep and breathy, hands tightening their grip on you. “Ride it all out f’ me, rela- oh s-shit.”

Your eyes widen as soon as the sound of footsteps registers in your mind, and your head swiftly turns back to see that Atsumu’s already pulling your shorts back over your cunt, your juices immediately soaking through the fabric as he holds you flush against his chest, big hand cradling the back of your head.

“‘Tsumu..!” You whisper, but he’s shushing you with gentle strokes along the back of your head.

“What, ‘Samu?” he calls out, his mind putting together a silent prayer that his twin was not about to open the door.

His prayers go unanswered.

“You two ready yet?” Osamu’s asking as soon as he flings open the door, the knob accidentally slipping through his grasp, and your door crashes against your wall with a loud thud a second later.

You faintly hear him mutter an “oops” before his eyes are finally falling on you, brow raising at the sight of you clinging tightly onto atsumu as your chest heaves up and down.

SAKUSA KIYOOMI.

“What?” you can feel your concentration falter as soon as the sound of Sakusa’s voice reaches you, and you’re immediately wiping at the frustrated tears that have begun to collect along your lashes. “Can’t cum like that?”

You’re quick to shake your head, and he doesn’t miss the slight tremble to your lips. Cute.

Sakusa had his doubts about this idea of yours from the start. He knows how needy you always get— knows that despite that innocent face of yours, your cunt’s anything but. It’s greedy. Something like this was probably not gonna be able to get you to finish, and he knew that.. but a part of him was just curious.

What he wasn’t expecting, however, was to see you this frustrated. Your chest is rising up and down with each angry pant, arm coming to rub at your nose from the occasional sniffle after being denied orgasm after orgasm.

And him? he’s never felt such a strong ache before. The dark spot on his shorts are a tell-tale sign that he’s been leaking with pre-cum, and he can practically feel it starting to drip down his cock. Neither of you were doing so well, and if he was being honest, he’s on the verge of flipping you over and putting you in a mating press— but the small voice inside him wants to see you come undone on his thighs. Badly.

He’s just gotta see how you look.

“Need your cock, Omi.” You mumble, rising onto your knees to scoot further up, but he’s stopping you only a second later. “Omi? Why..?”

“No.” he says flatly. “You don’t.”

“I do!” You’re protesting immediately after, hands balancing on his shoulders. “Can’t finish without it— ah!”

You yelp when he’s roughly pulling you back down, his quad flexing as soon as your cunt makes contact with his leg. The hands around your hips are tight, and Sakusa’s setting a rhythm only a moment later, keeping the muscles of his legs firm and flexed to better rub against your clit.

“W-wait!” You’re stammering, whining straight into his ear as you frantically latch onto him. He lets you bury your face into the crook of his neck as he works you closer to your high, forcing you into a mind-numbing pace to have you flying right off the edge in a few more seconds.

“You can— don’t fight it.” His voice comes out as a deep grunt, a result of his dragged out attempts at ignoring the borderline painful throb of his cock, and oh- he was so going to take you in a mating press after this. The second you’re finished gushing, he was gonna flip you over and finally rid himself this irritating ache.

“Omi!” You sob, eyes clenching shut as your hips start to stutter, and he can feel you trembling underneath his hands. “Omi.. O-omi— ‘m close!” He only responds by roughly pressing his thigh up against you, thick muscle hitting your clit just right as you choke out a scream, finally gushing all over his thighs.

“See?” He exhales, breath hitching in his throat when your nails dig deep into his back, his hands slowly moving you up and down to ride out your high.

“You can.”

DAICHI SAWAMURA.

“Feeling good, huh? Don’t try to fight it.”

Daichi grunts when you tug at his hair a little harder, face buried deep into his front as you desperately hump his leg. He’s gentle with you, strong hands guiding you up and down his leg, but he’d be lying if he said his patience wasn’t starting to wear thin.

The sweet nothings he’s been whispering into your ear this entire time are starting to sound a lot less like cooing and a lot more like grunting.

He couldn’t help it. He can feel you so so vividly, feel your juices dripping down the sides of his thigh and hear you moaning straight into his chest. You were soaked through and through, and it’s taking everything in him to stay patient and let you have this.

“There you go.” He’s praising you when you grind against him particularly hard, ignoring the way his shorts are feeling painfully tight around his cock. “Just like that— move exactly like that.”

“Daichi,” you whine. “‘M getting so close— feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He exhales deeply, and the way his cock twitches suddenly has him groaning, hands squeezing a bit too hard against your hips as you wince. “Daichi..?”

“Oops, sorry princess.” He’s clenching his jaw, giving you a weak smile as you wrap your arms around him. “That’s my bad. Don’t mind me, okay? Just.. worry about yourself— this is all about you right now.”

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI.

You weren’t as subtle as you thought.

His legs just looked so strong, so perfect to sit on, and you couldn’t help yourself. He didn’t seem to think too much of it when you first sat a little lower than you usually did, straddling his mid thigh as he flipped through another manga that Tendou had lent him earlier that week.

Just subtle movements up and down his thigh was your original plan, but it didn’t take very long for him to catch on.

“What are you doing?” Ushijima’s voice has you jolting from where you’re seated on his left thigh, his gaze now on you and the way you’re frantically waving your arms around in defense, barely able to stammer out a “N-nothing!”

You just barely catch the way his eyebrow raises in suspicion. It has you moving off him the next second, but he’s tossing aside the manga, big and strong hands easily wrapping around your hips to keep you planted on him.

“Don’t leave yet.” He says, stern and flat, but you catch the hint of curiosity swirling deep in his eyes.

The familiar heat of embarrassment is flooding to your face in an instant, and your head hangs low. “S-sorry, Toshi.” You mumble, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “Your thighs just looked so big, just wanted to… ride them.”

It’s silent.

You work up the courage to snack a glance at him again, now faced with the sight of his head tilted a bit, as if confused by your confession. “B-but!” You continue, mouth already running off on its own. “Forget it, okay? It might be weird— Toshi..?”

It was just one little flex of his quad, one that had the muscle pushing up against your clit, but the way his name rolled off your tongue sounded sinful. You can feel his grip around your hips tightening a bit, and he’s leaning in to close the gap between the two of you.

“Wouldn’t it feel better like this?”

BOKUTO KOUTAROU.

It started off with an accidental brush of his knee against your cunt.

Bokuto had always been eager with his kisses. He had you pinned down on his mattress, body hovering over yours as he moved his lips against your own— and he hadn’t even noticed anything different until he heard you suddenly moan into his mouth. He’s pulling away the next second, eyes wide as he tries gauging your reaction again, bringing his knee back to rub over your cunt. And … just like clockwork, your eyes clench shut and you choke back a gasp.

He swallows thickly.

Only five minutes later and he’s got you seated on his thigh, moving you back and forth with a needy grunt, his free hand squeezing your cheeks as he forces you to look up at him. “Don’t look away, ‘kay?”

“You look pretty— pretty like that. I just wanna see.”

The look on his face isn’t much different from yours. His mouth is slightly parted in desperate pants, deep red spreading across his cheeks at the sight of you feeling good on his leg. He’s swallowing deeply before he takes in a sharp inhale right after, already pussy drunk and his dick hasn’t even touched you yet.

The way your face starts to contort when you’re rapidly approaching your high has him just hoping he doesn’t end up finishing untouched. It’s throbbing— absolutely aching with need and as soon as you start sobbing his name, he can feel his patience shatter into thin pieces.

You let out a loud yelp as soon as your back hits the mattress, Bokuto looming over you with a strained look on his face as he rushes to line his tip up with your hole. “S-sorry.” His voice is just above a growl. “I can’t help it after all. It’s okay though, right? Gonna make you feel good.”

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luvbugs-blog · 29 days ago

Text

ੈ✩‧₊˚ not even sex can stop him from being a huge nerd

your laptop sat open on the desk, half-forgotten as your fingers trembled over the keyboard. the assignment deadline loomed, but it was really hard to focus when your boyfriend was buried between your thighs, lapping at you with slow, deliberate strokes.

kuroo had been at it for at least twenty minutes, taking his sweet time, letting the occasional deep groan vibrate against your pussy just to watch you squirm. he was always like this—half a menace, half a worshipper—dragging you right to the edge only to pull back and start over. it was infuriating.

you bit your lip, trying to stay somewhat composed, your hips shifting toward his mouth as he sucked your clit between his lips and rolled his tongue against it in that obscene way that made your toes curl. you barely managed to type another sentence before a sharp whimper escaped your throat, and he chuckled—smug bastard.

“mm, getting close?” his voice was muffled, lips brushing against your slick folds.

“y-yeah, so stop—”

but of course, he didn’t stop. he paused. and that was somehow so much worse.

instead of diving back in like a decent boyfriend, he lifted his head slightly, fingers idly tracing patterns against the inside of your thigh. “you know, i read this study the other day about how the female orgasm actually lasts three times longer than the male’s,” he mused, voice far too casual for someone who had his face drenched in your juices. “it has something to do with the way the pelvic muscles contract—”

“tetsu, i swear to fucking god—”

“no, but listen—” he pressed a quick kiss to your clit, as if that would make up for his absolute nonsense. “the average male orgasm lasts about six seconds, right? but for women, it’s closer to twenty. and some women can even have multiple in succession. isn’t that fascinating?”

your entire body twitched with frustration. “tetsurou.”

“what?” he asked, blinking up at you with faux innocence, lips glistening with proof of just how not innocent he was.

“either put that mouth to better use or—”

you barely had a second to brace yourself before he groaned—that deep, gravelly sound that sent heat curling in your belly—and devoured you like he had something to prove. his tongue flicked against your clit, fast and relentless, two fingers pressing inside you with that perfect curl, stroking the exact spot that made your back arch clean off the chair.

you barely had time to suck in a breath before pleasure slammed into you, your entire body trembling as you came with a broken, desperate moan. and he didn’t stop.

“mmh, see?” he mumbled against you, his words vibrating through your overstimulated nerves. “multiple in succession. science is so fucking cool.”

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luvbugs-blog · 1 month ago

Note

hiiii

i was wondering if i could request shy!bau!reader and post!prison spencer where he keeps their relationship a secret but reader gets insecure (because she thinks the relationship embarrasses him) but spencer keeps it a secret because he knows what happened to all his past relationships when he got other people involved

just want to see how that conversation would go with spencer reassuring reader and just being so in love

hidden — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader feeling insecure , they both slightly get emotional at some point but i promise there's lots of fluff a/n: hi hi ! ty ty for your request <3 also i'm so sorry this took so long i just found this in my drafts and i had completely forgotten to post this !! i hope you like this

You stood in Spencer’s kitchen, staring blankly at the kettle as it hissed and steamed, the water inside bubbling furiously.

The sound was loud, but it did little to pull you out of your thoughts.

Your mind was elsewhere, tangled in a web of overthinking that had started the moment you woke up—or rather, the moment you gave up on sleeping altogether.

It was early morning, and the sunlight streaming through the window felt too bright, too cheerful, for the storm brewing in your head.

You hadn’t slept. Not really.

You’d spent the night curled up in Spencer’s arms, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear, feeling the warmth of his body next to yours. It should have been comforting. It should have lulled you to sleep.

But instead, you had stared at the ceiling for hours, mind racing in endless circles, chasing a thought you couldn’t shake.

It was something small, almost insignificant, but it had burrowed under your skin and refused to let go.

You’d overheard a conversation between Spencer and a female officer at the local precinct. She’d been flirting with him—boldly, unapologetically—and while that wasn’t unusual (Spencer was, after all, undeniably attractive), it was his response that had stuck with you. When she’d asked if he had a girlfriend, he’d said no before politely turning her down.

Logically, you knew why he’d said it. You’d both agreed to keep your relationship private. But logic didn’t stop the question from creeping into your mind, unbidden and unwelcome:

Was he embarrassed of you? Did he regret this?

The thought felt ridiculous even as it formed. Spencer wasn’t the type to care about what others thought.

But no matter how much you tried to push the doubt away, it lingered.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice the kettle boiling over, the hot water spilling out and hissing as it hit the stovetop.

“Be careful!” Spencer’s voice cut through the fog in your mind.

You blinked, startled, and looked down at the mess you’d unintentionally created. The kettle was overflowing, steam rising in frantic curls, and you quickly stepped back, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Spencer rushed forward, his movements quick as he turned down the heat and moved the kettle to a cooler part of the stove. “Sorry, sorry,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper as you watched him. Your hands fidgeted at your sides, unsure of what to do with themselves.

He turned to you, his brow furrowed with worry as he took in your appearance. You looked exhausted—dark circles under your eyes, your hair slightly disheveled, and your shoulders slumped.

It wasn’t like you to wake up before him; in fact, Spencer hated waking up without you beside him. He loved the quiet moments in the morning, when the world was still soft and hazy, and he could just lie there with you, his arms wrapped around you, your head resting on his chest.

It was one of the few times he felt truly at peace.

But this morning had been different. He’d woken up alone, the space beside him cold and empty, and he’d known immediately that something was wrong.

Now, seeing you like this—distant, distracted, and clearly troubled—only confirmed his suspicions. You barely looked up at him, avoiding his analyzing gaze.

“Come on,” he said softly, his voice a gentle invitation as he reached out his hand to you. You hesitated for a moment, your eyes flickering to the kettle.

But then you slowly took his hand, your fingers trembling slightly in his grasp. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before leading you to the couch in the living room.

Spencer sat down first, before gently pulling you into his lap. You hesitated, as you always did, hovering your weight above him as though you were afraid of imposing.

It was a habit you’d never quite shaken, even after all this time together. Despite how long you’d been dating, there were still moments when you felt nervous.

It was endearing, but it also broke his heart a little. He never wanted you to feel anything less than completely at ease with him.

Spencer’s hands settled on your hips, his touch firm but gentle as he guided you down until your entire weight was settled in his lap.

You let out a small, shaky breath, your hands instinctively resting on his shoulders for balance. His eyes searched yours, his gaze soft but probing, as though he could see straight through to the heart of what was troubling you.

You shifted slightly under his scrutiny, your fingers nervously toying with the fabric of his sweater.

“So, what’s wrong?” Spencer asked, his voice gentle but insistent. His hazel eyes held that familiar, loving look—the one that always made you feel seen and understood. You hesitated, your gaze dropping to where your fingers fiddled with the edge of his sweater.

“Just having a bad morning, I think,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

It wasn’t entirely a lie.

But it wasn’t the whole truth either.

You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, and you knew he wasn’t going to let this go.

After a moment, you sighed, your fingers tightening slightly in the fabric of his sweater. “It’s stupid,” you admitted, your voice hesitant.

Spencer’s lips quirked up just slightly, the ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

You huffed a quiet, self-deprecating laugh, but when you lifted your eyes to meet his again, your expression was hesitant.

His hands crept up under the hem of your shirt—well, his sweater that you’d borrowed—and you jumped slightly at the cool touch of his fingertips against your skin. “Your hands are cold,” you mumbled, though you didn’t pull away.

Spencer chuckled softly, his breath warm against your neck. “Yeah, well, I woke up in an empty, cold bed,” he said, his tone playful but laced with a hint of worry. “With no one to warm me.”

You smiled faintly at his teasing, but you could hear the underlying message in his words.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, your hands moving to rest against his chest. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

Spencer’s expression softened, and he shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize,” he said, his voice gentle.“I just want to know what’s going on in that head of yours.” As he spoke, one hand made its way to your temple, tapping lightly against it in a playful gesture before brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

“I just…” You exhaled, trying to gather your thoughts. “Sometimes, I get in my own head about things. Overthink them.”

Spencer nodded slightly, waiting for you to continue.

“Yesterday, you—” you started, then stopped abruptly, sighing loudly as the words caught in your throat.

Spencer didn’t interrupt, didn’t push. He just waited patiently.

“That officer asked you if you had a girlfriend,” you continued, your gaze dropping to his chest as your fingers nervously traced the fabric of his sweater. “And you said no. Which is fine,” you added quickly, your hands patting his chest lightly as if to reassure yourself as much as him. “But it just got me thinking that maybe you’re just…” You trailed off, the words sticking in your throat like they were too heavy to say out loud.

Spencer stayed silent, his hands resting gently on your hips, his thumbs tracing small, soothing circles.

“Embarrassed of me?” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper, the words coming out in a questioning tone, as though you were afraid of the answer.

“I mean, I’m not as—” You exhaled sharply, shaking your head, forcing the words out before you lost the courage to say them. “I’m not as outspoken or extroverted as the rest of the team. I don’t have the same kind of presence as JJ or Emily or even Penelope. And you—” You looked down at your fingers still clutching the hem of his sweater. “You’re you.”

Spencer’s brows pulled together slightly.

You let out a short, humorless laugh, gesturing vaguely at him. “You’re a literal genius. You’re brilliant and kind and incredible. It’s not like I don’t know that. But maybe compared to that, I just seem… small. Forgettable.”

You could hear the slight break in your own voice as you finished.

A heavy silence followed, stretching long enough that doubt started creeping in. You shifted slightly in his lap, suddenly feeling exposed, vulnerable in a way that made you want to pull away.

But Spencer didn’t let you.

His grip on your hips tightened just slightly—not enough to hurt, just enough to hold you in place, to keep you from retreating.

And then, finally, he spoke.

“First of all,” he said, his voice steady, unwavering, “I need you to listen to me when I say this: I am not, nor have I ever been, embarrassed of you.”

Your breath hitched, but he didn’t stop. His eyes softened, his hands rubbing soothing circles into your hips.

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering over your shoulder as if he were searching for the right words, but his hands never stopped their gentle, reassuring movements on your hips. His eyes met yours again.

“I just don’t want to risk what we have,” he said, his voice softer now, tinged with vulnerability. “I know what happens when people get involved—when things get messy. I’ve seen it happen too many times.” He paused, his expression clouding as though he were reliving memories he’d rather forget. “And I don’t want that for us. Because the thought of losing you—” His voice broke, and he didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

You felt your heart clench at his words.

“I love you,” he said, his voice steadier now, but no less heartfelt. “More than I’ll ever be able to put into words.” His hands moved to cradle your face, his touch so gentle it made your chest ache. “And I’m sorry that I made you feel like this,” he added, his voice thick with regret. “I never wanted to hurt you. I was trying to protect you.”

His apology was sincere, his eyes searching yours.

For a moment, you couldn't breathe. Every word felt like a soft anchor pulling you back from the edge of your doubts.

His hands were still cradling your face, his thumbs brushing lightly over your cheeks, as though he were trying to wipe away every trace of doubt and insecurity that had taken root in your mind.

All you could do was stare into his hazel eyes. You just sat there for a moment, letting his words sink in.

“I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as the words left your lips.

Spencer’s expression softened at your words, his eyes reflecting a mix of relief and warmth.

“You’re everything to me,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, his lips brushing against the tip of your nose as he spoke. “And I don’t ever want you to doubt that.”

You nodded, your throat tight with emotion as you leaned into him, your hands sliding up to rest against his chest. His arms enveloped you, pulling you close as he held you like he was afraid you might slip away. You let yourself melt into his embrace.

For a while, you just stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, letting the moment stretch.

Finally, he pulled back just slightly, his hands lingering at your waist as he looked at you with that warmth, the one that always made you feel like you were home.

“How about we start this morning over?” he asked softly, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

You gave him a small, shaky smile. “Yeah. I’d like that,” you murmured, your voice steadying now, as you felt the storm in your chest finally calm.

Spencer’s smile widened, and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before standing up, taking your hand in his.

“Come on,” he said with a gentle tug. “Let’s make some tea. The right way this time.” His playful tone brought a smile to your face as you followed him into the kitchen, feeling lighter than you had in days.

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luvbugs-blog · 1 month ago

Note

What about cutie first season Spencer Reid who is desperately in love with his coworker and is kinda blind sided when Lila kisses him🥺 He wants to make it really clear that the kiss was one sided but his soon to be girlfriend is jealous jealous🩷

jealous — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader being jealous , mention of lila ( obviously ) a/n: hiii !!! i hope you like this :)

When you read in books the phrase “jealousy boiled in her veins,” you never quite understood it. Sure, you’d felt jealousy before, in fleeting moments of insecurity or longing.

But boiling jealousy? That had always seemed like an exaggeration.

Not until four days ago.

Though, boiling wasn’t the right word for it. No, what you felt then was explosive jealousy.

A kind of heat so intense it made your skin prickle, your throat tighten, your hands curl into fists at your sides. It was the kind of jealousy that made your stomach churn and your heart pound with something dangerously close to heartbreak.

Because four days ago, you saw them.

Spencer and Lila. In the pool.

The images were burned into your memory, tattooed on the inside of your eyelids like a cruel joke. Every time you closed your eyes, there they were—her arms wrapped around his neck and their faces too close.

You had barely slept since.

And work? Work was even worse.

Two days ago, when you walked into the BAU for the first time since that dreadful moment, you told yourself you’d be fine. You could be professional. You could pretend it didn’t bother you.

But you couldn’t even look at Spencer.

Every time he stepped near you, all you could see was her in his arms. Every time he spoke, all you could hear was the laughter they shared in that damn pool. You forced yourself to act normal, to keep your voice steady and your posture composed.

But it was so, so hard.

Elle had noticed. She kept shooting you those pointed glances, raising an eyebrow in silent question. Are you okay?

Of course you weren’t.

How could you be when you had been crushing on Spencer for so long, you could barely remember a time when you hadn’t been? How could you be okay when the sight of him with someone else had nearly shattered you?

Spencer noticed too. Of course he did.

He wasn’t oblivious—not when it came to you. He saw the way you avoided his gaze, the way your once warm smiles had faded into stiff nods and clipped responses. He saw the way your shoulders tensed when he entered the room, how you kept your distance like even standing next to him was unbearable.

And it was unbearable.

He wanted to talk to you, to explain.

To tell you that what happened was one-sided. That he hadn’t meant for it to happen. That he hadn’t wanted it to happen. That it had been unexpected and overwhelming and, ultimately, meaningless.

That he was in love with you, not Lila.

But how could he say that when you wouldn’t even look at him? When every time he tried to get close, you turned away? When the words on the tip of his tongue kept dying in the silence you forced between you?

Today, when you walked into the bullpen, the first thing you noticed was Derek. He was leaning against Spencer’s desk, a smirk playing on his lips as he held a paper in his hand.

The moment he saw you, he straightened, casually tossing the paper into the trash, his expression softening as he placed a warm hand on your shoulder.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he greeted smoothly.

“Morning,” you replied, offering him a small, tired smile.

You already knew what he had been holding. The pictures. The ones of Spencer and Lila in the pool. The same ones Derek had undoubtedly been using to tease Spencer with before you arrived. You also knew why Derek immediately threw the magazine away.

Because Derek, just like the rest of the team, knew exactly how you felt about Spencer.

And how Spencer felt about you.

Everyone with eyes and ears could tell. The way you gravitated toward each other, how you always seemed to seek each other out, how Spencer’s face lit up when you laughed. It wasn’t just friendship. It had never been just friendship.

Spencer glanced up from his desk as you passed by, flashing you a hesitant, almost hopeful smile.

You only nodded, forcing yourself to keep walking.

You settled into your chair, taking a slow breath as you forced your hands to stay busy, flipping through the files on your desk. You could feel Spencer’s gaze lingering on you, like he was trying to gather the courage to say something.

Spencer missed you.

He missed the conversations, the inside jokes, the way you used to nudge his shoulder whenever you walked by. He missed the way your voice softened when you said his name, the way you actually listened to his rambles instead of tuning them out like most people did.

And he wanted—needed—to explain.

But every time he opened his mouth to speak, the words tangled in his throat. Because what if he ruined everything? What if trying to explain just made things worse?

He had been so close before all of this happened.

Just a few days ago, he had been sitting right here, talking to Elle, asking for advice on how to ask you out. He had been nervous, but excited. He had a plan, one he had been going over in his head a hundred times—something simple, something meaningful. He just wanted you to know how much you meant to him.

But then Lila happened.

And now, instead of planning a date, he was trying to figure out how to make you look at him again.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

Spencer stood abruptly, pushing back his chair with a quiet scrape against the floor. He hesitated for only a second before crossing the room, stopping just beside your desk.

“Can we talk?” His voice was quieter than usual.

You didn’t look up right away, your fingers tightening around the file in front of you. A moment passed before you finally let out a slow sigh and nodded.

“Okay.”

Spencer felt his heart stutter in relief.

The two of you walked to the breakroom in silence.

Spencer closed the door behind him, the soft click sounding much louder in the quiet space. He hesitated, shifting from foot to foot, fingers twitching slightly at his sides.

“I—” He stopped, inhaling sharply. Then exhaled. Then hesitated again.

You leaned against the coffee counter, arms crossed, waiting. Your heart pounded a little too fast in your chest. You felt awkward—just a tiny bit. Because Spencer wanting to talk to you meant he had noticed your behavior. Not that you had been subtle about it.

But it also meant he had noticed your jealousy.

And that was almost worse.

Finally, Spencer spoke, his voice quiet, careful. Earnest.

“I miss you.”

Your head snapped up and you just stared at him, wide-eyed.

You didn't expect him to be so direct.

Spencer was blushing, a deep red creeping up his neck, dusting the tips of his ears. He looked like he wanted to disappear, like saying those three words had been the most terrifying thing he had ever done—which, knowing him, it very well might have been.

But the way he was looking at you, like he was afraid he had already lost you, made something twist painfully in your chest.

“I—” You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “You… what?”

Spencer gave a small, nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I miss you,” he repeated, voice softer this time. “And I—I know you’re upset. I know why. And I just… I need you to know that what happened with Lila, it—it wasn’t what it looked like.”

You pressed your lips together, your fingers gripping the counter behind you. “It looked like you were kissing her,” you muttered, unable to stop the sharp edge in your voice.

Spencer winced. “She kissed me,” he corrected quickly. “I—I didn’t expect it, and I definitely didn’t want it. I pulled away as soon as I—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “It wasn’t what I wanted.”

You stared at him for a long moment. He was shifting anxiously, his hands half-raised like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if he could. His brows were drawn together, his lips pressed into a tight line, like he was bracing himself for you to tell him you didn’t care.

But you did care. That was the problem, wasn’t it?

You looked down, inhaling deeply before meeting his gaze again. “Then… what do you want, Spencer?”

His breath hitched.

For a moment, he said nothing, just looking at you like he was memorizing every detail of your face, like he needed to get this right. Then, finally, he took a small step forward, eyes locked onto yours.

“You,” he said simply.

Your heart stopped.

And then it started again, thundering against your ribs, because Spencer Reid had just admitted—out loud—that he wanted you.

The jealousy that had been burning inside you for days was suddenly replaced by something else entirely.

Hope.

“I—what?” Your ability to form sentences had seemingly vanished. Your mouth hung slightly open as you stared at him, heart hammering against your ribs.

Spencer, for his part, was barely looking at you. His eyes flickered to yours for a second before darting back to the coffee pot behind you, like it was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Me?” you finally managed to say. That was it. That was all your brain could come up with. Me?

Spencer nodded, still not quite meeting your gaze.

Silence stretched between you, thick with unsaid words.

Then, finally, he spoke again.

“I was—I was trying to figure out how to ask you out,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, more uncertain. “I was talking to Elle about it, actually. Trying to…to make a plan.” His hands twitched at his sides, like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “And then Lila—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Everything just got messed up.”

“Really?” you asked, your lips curving into the smallest hint of a smile.

Spencer finally looked at you again, his expression both relieved and vulnerable all at once. “Yeah,” he breathed out.

The heaviness in your chest eased, just a little.

You took a slow step toward him, close enough that you could see the way his breath hitched, the way his fingers curled slightly like he was stopping himself from reaching for you.

“So…” You tilted your head, your voice softer now. “How were you going to ask me?”

Spencer let out a short, nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh… I had a whole thing planned. Something about books and coffee and, um, statistics on first-date success rates…” He trailed off, his face burning. “It was probably a bad plan.”

You bit your lip, your smile growing. “I don’t know,” you mused, your heart pounding. “I think I would’ve liked it.”

Spencer blinked at you, hope flickering across his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward this time. It was warm.

You took another step forward, and this time, Spencer didn’t move away. He was still nervous, still hesitant, but he didn’t look away when you reached out and brushed your fingers against his.

“I still would,” you said quietly.

Spencer swallowed, his fingers twitching against yours before he finally, finally curled them around your hand. His grip was unsure at first—like he was waiting for you to change your mind—but when you didn’t pull away, his shoulders relaxed.

“Then,” he said, his lips curving ever so slightly, “would you maybe want to—”

“Yes,” you interrupted, grinning now.

Spencer smiled, a real, relieved smile, and you felt something settle in your chest—something that had been in turmoil for days.

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luvbugs-blog · 1 month ago

Text

from the club

Derek’s wolf whistle made you roll your eyes and try to slip into your seat without drawing too much attention. “Damn, mama,” he sang teasingly, eyeing you up and down.

“Derek Morgan! I ought to-“

“Whoa!”

You glared at Spencer, trying to ifnore the way his eyes trailed over your cleavage. “It’s like you guys have never even been in the presence of a female before,” you snark sarcastically. Secretly, though, you feel complimented that such aesthetically pleasing people thought you looked good.

Emily, Jennifer, Penelope, and Rossi were later than Hotch surprisingly. Aaron strode in next, laying a stack of files on the table. He sat down at his regular spot and turned to make conversation until the other arrived when he turned and saw you. His lips drew thinly over his face as he watched you reach over the table to grab a file. He swallowed and averted his eyes from you when you sat back in your seat. Hotch felt like a pervert and averted his mind to the more pressing matter. Dead bodies, knives, murder, he repeated to himself- trying to draw blood away from his crotch.

J.J., Penelope, and Emily arrived next. “Coffee for you all, my precious gems!” Penny sang, placing the team’s favorite brews in front of them. After she placed yours down her eyes gleamed and she raised her eyebrows. “Did you call-“

“Penelope!” You hollered, turning away from the red-head with a laugh.

She just giggled and wiggled her eyebrows. As Emily took her place beside you, she leaned in to whisper in your ear, “I’m no better than the men here, y/n. You look hot.”

You swatted her away and waited for J.J. to start the briefing. Emily snickered beside you.

There was really nothing professional about being called into work wearing low-rise jeans and a lacey tank top. But it wasn’t your fault- some of your college friends had stopped in the city and wanted to go to the club and wouldn’t take no as an answer.

Rossi showed up right before Hotch said his favorite phrase (read: “wheels up in 30”). You collected your file and started out of the room.

“Good lo- y/n!”

You whipped around to see Penelope rushinf towards you. “Wh-What?”

“You’ve surprised me more times today than I thought possible, darling girl. Turn around! I didn’t know you had ink!”

You breathed out a sigh of relief and tried to ignore the feeling of her cold fingers tracing over the black ink just above your jeans. “I have some on the mid back too,” you said quietly.

“Impressive,” Rossi- of all people- hummed. “One of my ex wives roped me into getting a matching tattoo with her. The pain was somethinf else and the aftercare was hell. Rookie, here has a high pain tolerance.” He patted your practically bare shoulder and walked by without another word.

Emily purred lowly as she walked by, laughing at the way you flipped her off in return.

“You know, Jeffery Dahmer didn’t consume people that had tattoos… He said that the ‘tattoos made the meat taste like… shit’,” Reid spouted.

The way Spencer paused before saying shit was endearing. Maybe it was your attraction to nerds, but you felt particularly flattered at the weight of his gaze on you. “That’s interesting, Spencer,” you replied quietly. “Did you know the oldest recorded tattoo ink recipe required insect eggs?”

Spencer just hummed.

“I- uh,” Aaron cleared his throat. You stepped back from Penelope’s hands. “I imagine you have more professional attire?”

Your cheeks flushed. “Yes, Hotch. I’m really sorry, my friends convinced me to go out with them, you know, and I-“

Hotch chuckled and held his hands up. “It’s okay, y/n. What you do on your own time is your business,” he said.

You wrung your hands. “Thanks, Hotch.”

“No problem, y/n.” Hotch started to walk away and you felt Derek’s arm wrap around your shoulder. “Nice ink,” he called back to you.

“I’ll see you on the plane, y/n,” Spencer told you with a wave. You smiled back at him and watched him run a hand through his hair as he walked away.

“Lover boy’s gotta thing for you, y/n,” Derek told you, a shit eating grin on his face. “And Hotch too, if I took a guess. I think you made the old man pop a bo-“

“Derek Morgan!”

You shoved him off of you and tried to ignore his gleeful laughter.

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luvbugs-blog · 1 month ago

Text

how you talk so sweet when you’re doing bad things | s.r.

A/N: this is literally prn with no plot i’m sorry. i just really love thinking about spencer on his knees sue me! this was supposed to be longer but then i decided to save it for when i write for juno heheh

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, softdom!spencer AND munch!spencer look at that a 2-for-1!, fingering fem receiving, brief condescending!spence if you blink, many many pet names, spencer says good girl that’s a warning on its own, afab!reader

summary: you and spencer come home from a night out and he knows exactly what to say to get you wrapped around his finger (literally!)

wc: 1.4k

_______________________________________________

You stumble through the door with Spencer trailing not too far behind you. You’d both been out with the team getting drinks and as the night progressed Spencer found himself getting especially touchy with you, so much that you could still feel the imprint of his hand on your inner thigh.

The drinks of the night had long faded leaving you in a haze as you both entered your apartment, Spencer’s solid frame coming up behind you to hold your waist.

“Good thing I’m here to make sure you don’t fall.” He chuckles softly.

He slowly turns you around and gently pushes you against the wall. You give him a lazy smile as your hand reaches up to trace the outline of his jaw, “You’re pretty.”

“If I’m pretty, what does that make you?”

“Lucky.”

Spencer blushes and smiles softly, “That was good,” He bends down to press a kiss to the spot behind your ear, slowly trailing down to the sweet spot at the base of your neck. His fingers press into the sides of your hips, “You okay? Still feeling it?”

You shake your head no pointedly, “Just fuzzy.”

“Fuzzy is good,” He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, “You’re nicer when you’re fuzzy.”

“I’m nice all the time!” You feign offense.

He chuckles back, “Okay, you are nice all the time. I think I meant more…compliant.”

You grin up at him, “What, you don’t like me in control?”

“No I do, trust me, I do. But, you deserve to be taken care of. And I really like it when I get to take care of you. It’s easier for me to do that when you’re all…fuzzy.”

Another lazy smiles adorns you and Spencer can’t help but lean in and kiss your nose.

“Well, we aren’t doing anything until these devil shoes come off.” You mutter softly.

Spencer laughs and kisses you one last time before smoothing his hands down your side as he sinks to his knees, gesturing you to lift your foot up and perch it on his shoulder, allowing perfect access to your heel.

You lean back against the wall attempting to flatten your back to ease the aching of it. Through hooded eyes you look down to meet Spencer’s hazel ones staring right back at yours, as his fingers ghost over the straps of your heels.

“Feet hurt?” He asks as he presses the pads of his fingers into the flesh of your calf, gently massaging the skin as he works his way down the buckle of your heel.

“In these? Always.” You laugh back.

“Oh, poor baby.” He mumbles back with a pout, leaning forward to kiss the base of your ankle. Your eyes widen slightly in entice as you watch him leave kisses up your leg, hands following their path and caressing the skin it touches. He gently places your bare foot on the ground and picks up the other heeled one, placing it on his shoulder and repeating the same motions.

The intimacy of the moment strikes you as you watch his long fingers toy with the buckles and straps of your heels before sliding them off. Your hand subconsciously reaches for his hair and cards through it gently, pushing it away from his eyes.

“Hi.” you whisper.

He looks up to meet your gaze, “Hi, honey.”

“You look pretty down there.”

A chuckle escapes him, “Do I?”

You nod, “Are you going to stay down there or…?”

His fingers dance around your calves slowly inching upwards, “What do you want me to do?”

Humming softly at the touch, you lean your head back against the wall, “I want…whatever you want.”

Spencer laughs again, “See? My compliant, pretty girl.” His fingers reach the hem of your dress, slowly inching further up, “I think I’ll stay down here for a little bit…if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, that’s o—okay.” Your breath hitches as he toys with the outer edges of your panties. His fingers trace the outline out to in, just missing contact with where you want him.

You whine softly as he continues to evade the one spot you need him, squirming against the wall for any friction you can find. He lightly chastises you, “So needy…you’re acting like you haven’t been touched in weeks.”

“Spence…”

He hums, “But that’s not true, right?” One finger strokes the front of your panties, tracing a path from the wet patch up to your clothed clit.

“N—No.” You half moan.

His finger lays more pressure, “I take really good care of you, right angel?”

A curse slips from you as he strokes you over your panties.

Spencer smirks as he hooks his index fingers on either side of your panties and slowly starts to drag it down, not missing how the fabric sticks to your slick like honey. “You know why, I take such good care of you?”

You’re too caught up in the anticipation to respond, but that’s not enough for Spencer when he stops his motions and taps your leg, “I asked you a question.”

You look down at him and shake your head exasperatedly, hoping the silent answer was enough for him to continue since you’re nearly on the ledge from the way his hands are moving.

His finger trails back up your leg and ghosts over your exposed cunt, teasing you endlessly, “I take care of you…because you’re a good girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Spencer…please…” You’re not sure how much longer you can take this, your body squirming for any contact.

“Say it.” He pulls back so he can look you directly in the eyes, a single digit sliding through your folds.

“Jesus, fuck,” you let out breathlessly, “Okay, okay I’m a good girl, I’m your good girl, just please…” You can’t even bring yourself to care at how desperate you sound, you would start begging like a sinner in church if he didn’t do anything soon.

He smirks, “That’s my girl,” he taps your thigh, “Over my shoulder.” You quickly abide and raise your leg over his shoulder and rest your thigh on it. Spencer leans in and dives into your folds like a man starved, your hands moving to tangle in his hair and in an effort to stabilize yourself. His tongue motions like he’s making a painting and you definitely think you deserve to be hung in the Louvre after this.

You feel him add a finger in and you’re a goner.

“Spence…I’m—fuck oh my god, please don’t stop.” You whine.

His lips detach from you while he adds another fingers and continues his motions and he mumbles, “You gonna come for me, angel? Been like, what a few minutes and you’re already about to make a mess on my fingers…so needy.” he teases.

He returns back to your core, licking long and thick stripes up and down, his fingers not slowing down as he brings you closer to the edge. The peak begins to build in your gut and the climax overtakes you, a mixture of expletives and Spencer’s name leaving your mouth like a twisted spell.

You release your death grip on his hair as he sits back to catch his breath. You slump down the wall to sit in front of him, your leg still swung over his shoulder. He smiles fondly at you and holds the ankle next to his head, leaning in to press a kiss, “You okay, baby?”

“Mhm…” You hazily say, “Peachy, even.”

His eyes narrow slightly, “…Because they’re fuzzy?” you giggle and nod feeling super proud of your pun. He can’t help but laugh with endearment with you as he gently helps your leg off his shoulder and places it on the ground before standing up himself and reaching his hands out for you to grab it, “Let’s go to bed, I’m not done with you yet.”

You place your hands in his and allow him to pull you up, once you’re on your feet you register his words, “Wait, huh?”

He slowly spins you around so his chest is to your back and starts guiding you down the hallway, “Oh baby, did you think we were stopping at one?” he whispers sultrily in your ear. A shudder runs down your spine and he laughs feeling you shake in his arms.

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