#difficult shoes. glasses. his hair. HIS SHIRT

[kayze-draws]

whiteboard doodles!! (click imgs bc mask is long lmao)

and. my attempts at yarrwhal. he is horrible draw :(

[cheriden]

「 my "i love you" 」 | pt. 1 。。。

"You're so pretty, I love you. Brows furrowing, you tuck your mouth behind your teeth. Desperately trying to ignore his whimpers and profanities, you find it difficult as Beomgyu chants the phrase louder like a prayer. "

── synopsis 。Your best friend with benefits (whom you have a crush on) is too sweet in bed

pairing 。switch!top choi beomgyu x f! reader

.ᐟ genre 。angst, smut, mdni!

.ᐟ tags 。friends with benefits, unrequited love, praise kink, missionary so they can argue, a lot of teasing, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (wrap it and get tested!), creampie (on pill!), miscommunication, beomgyu's an idiot

.ᐟ status & word count 。two-parts | 3.04k

part 1 | part 2

.ᐟ warnings/notes 。reuploaded because i'm fucking stupid. i do think ppl can be fwb without feelings but mc is a lovergirl for today ☝☝, not really proofread, semi-rushed, beomgyu is kinda dumb, no happy end (yet?)

At some point this arrangement has to end. You know that. He knows it; moreover everyone who knows that you’ve been sleeping with Beomgyu says it. You’re also aware that you should be the one to end it; A friends of benefits situation hinted at by Beomgyu, leading to a proposition started by you. 

He comes over more frequently, showers you in more affection, in addition to subconsciously doing little habits lovers would do. As the patterns start to weave with your everyday life, you start to wonder who gains the most out of this agreement. Of course, such matters shouldn’t be weighed, especially between friends. He gets his release out of a glorified, whiny, pussy mitten, and you get to take a sneak peak of what it would be like to be his. 

It’s not like you’re gonna get more than that.

Naturally, this thought process circulates your mind a lot, its conclusion always left as a draft or with a conflicting thought. Listening to the pitter-patter against the glass pane, you reason with yourself while you send him a text and sink into the bed, thinking, “The aftercare is nice, plus things have gotten stressful lately.” 

All the inward bickering with yourself never lasts, because in the end, a full five minutes pass before three’s knocking on the door. With a heavy mind and body, you drag yourself to the anterior of the studio to unlock it. 

On the other end is a panting brunette, glasses skewed and hair disheveled. Beomgyu brings his hood down, leaves his keys on the shabby table up front, kicking his shoes off beside it. You step away from the door, with him trailing behind you meekly. No words are exchanged, contrast to the obnoxiously loud string of filth when the two of you hook up. Once you enter the bedroom, you immediately fall onto the bed, propping yourself up to the headboard. You study him expectantly, moving to your right and replacing your weight with his own. He scans the room, playing with the hem of your shirt. “You got new sheets.” He starts, voice soft and low while he rests into the junction between your neck and shoulder. “They’re really soft.” With a hum, you move to get on top of him, your legs entrapping him. Simultaneously, you set your weight down on him slowly, and he seals his eyes with a small jerk from his hips. “You really came over to talk about my sheets?” The brunette gives you a small smile, cocking his head to the side. “You seriously texted me just to do nothing?” The other returns, sitting up to meet your form. 

He latches his lips onto your neck, trailing it upwards to kiss the sharp of your jaw. “You’re assuming.” you comment, biting down on the inners of your bottom lip to fend off sound. “We used to hang out all the time before we started fucking.” He stops his kisses to peer at you, his mouth covered in sheen. “You texted me saying, ‘Wanna do it?’ I don’t think I was that far off from what you were planning.” You nod your head, lifting the ends of his shirt, bringing his face back into your neck. In turn, he brings his arms up the small of your back, caressing it before detaching himself once again. “You don’t have a bra on.” He says, like it’s some sort of otherworldly fact. Raising an eyebrow, you respond, “Well yeah, it’s my apartment. Nobody’s home and my top’s frilly enough to hide everything.” He nods, planting a swift peck on your lips, he gives you a bright-eyed smile. “It suits you.”

You don’t know if he’s teasing, or if this is part of the foreplay. You recall wearing the exact same top half a decade ago to see a movie with Beomgyu alone, loose and brand new with a skirt that sat right above the upper quartile of your thigh. You told yourself that it would be the day you confessed to him, or tried to get him to do something in the theater. Instead, he giggled at you, smoothening the sides of your frayed braids, telling you that you dressed silly and clean. You weren’t sure what he was implying about you, but the red hue that had painted on your cheeks that stayed throughout the whole run-time of the movie was enough to get you to quit wearing that top outdoors out of embarrassment. 

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, pushing the bunched up shirt around you, pulling it above your head. “Nothing” you mumble, yelping when he flips you, hovering above you as he begins to tug at the garter of your shorts. Lifting your ass, the other pulls at the fabric in one swoop. “Don’t get distracted and ignore me.” He pouts, hooking your underwear while the knuckle of his middle finger grazes over your core. “Couldn’t possibly forget,” you huff out, subtly lowering yourself onto his digit, “you’re too annoying—” Cutting yourself off with a gasp, his tongue replaces his finger, giving kitty licks over the cloth. “I’m so annoying I’ll have you screaming my name by the end of this.” He gloats in between breaths, left hand intertwined with yours as the right has its hold on the skin atop your pelvic bone, thumb rubbing circles and drawing patterns. You keep quiet, concentrating on suppressing your noises and grabbing the brunette’s hair. Pulling his face into you, he retracts, kissing the sides of your underwear. “Beomgyu,” you hiss, yanking his head up to study him. “Don’t be a prick.” The brunette gives you another pout, slowly bringing the garment to level with your knees. “But you’re cute when you’re squirming,” he pauses, trailing kisses up to your belly button. “You're also hot when you’re mean.” With a scoff, you shove his head away, and he returns to face your heat. His tongue prods at your entrance; you curse, grinding yourself onto it. “You’re impatient today,” he remarks, rubbing the apple of his cheek against your lower abdomen. “Stop playing around,” You bite back, grasping onto his hair to keep him in place, “you’re not usually this taunting.” Beomgyu sneers, pressing his nose on your clit. “Taunting you? Can’t I just want my baby to feel good?”

The term of endearment causes you to jolt against him. He chuckles, vibrations shooting up your body, draping an arm over your eyes. “Does my baby like it when I call her that?” He asks, to which you nod unconsciously, body writhing as your whines get pitchier. 

Beomgyu gets off on your praise, gets off on seeing just how much you need him. So it's obvious that his next course of action is to stop contact with you altogether, pulling himself back, smirk plastered on his face. “Say it.” He coos, frotting the fabric of his jeans over your bare cunt; the texture makes you writhe. “Say you like being called baby, and that you love it when I go down on you.” A sense of protecting your dignity washes over you. You turn away with your mouth shut as he moans over you. “Never.” 

The other picks up speed, and you clamp the back of your hand against your lips to prevent a whimper. Beomgyu shrugs, paying no mind to your stubbornness. “Guess I'll have to force it out of you.” 

He’s cocky now, but the more he rubs against you, the louder and sloppier he gets. “Don’t cum in your pants over dry humping me, Beomie.” You mock. In return he ends with one last slow grind. “Shut up.”

He relents, mouthing the opening of your core again and lapping it in circles—prying it open with his fingers, tongue moving to suck on the tip. Toes curling, you grip at the headboard as he eats you out. His hips buck at the sheets beneath him, ruining the cloth he was praising a few minutes ago. “I’m close,” you sputter, grip on his strands tightening with little regard for his breathing. 

Beomgyu—the brat that he is, halts the process once more, and you shoot him an annoyed look. “Are you serious right now? Do you not want me to cum?”

He purses his lips as if in thought, leaning to spread kisses over your clavicle. “Tell me that—” “You groan, throwing one of the smaller pillows at him. “Be for real. I’m not doing that shit.” The other pretends to sulk, hands working his way through your body and massaging your breasts. “Fine. Tell me what you want then, since my princess is so impatient and temperamental. You moan at the new nickname, and he doesn’t fail to notice. “I’ll call you all the names you want if you just tell me what you want.”

He’s back to teasing your entrance. Defeated, you tell him as fast as you can, “Need to cum, need you in me.”

Beomgyu tuts, shaking his head. “What’s the magic word?” 

“Now.” You hiss, glare sharp. All he does is smile, kissing you one last time. “Okay, only because you’re so cute and you need me.” You’re not given the time to act all snobbish about his words, thoughts cut off by the sudden moaning at your cunt, Beomgyu trying and succeeding at pushing all your buttons as he sends you to the edge. A long moan exits you as you ride your orgasm out on his face, seeing spots of white as your mind tingles in pleasure. 

The brunette kneels to undo his bottoms with your help, with you kissing the bands of the underwear and carved bone. “Like I said,” he sighs, hands on your shoulders to push you back into the mattress, “Impatient..”

He curses as the tip of his dick runs through the lips of your pussy, rutting it slowly. “You’re so hard,” you coo, cupping a cheek and working his dick to press on you, “You look like you haven’t fucked in—ever.” He whines at your ridicule—but it spurs him more, bucking his hips faster against you. 

Beomgyu’s lids are heavy and his jaw is slack, grunting. “Look at me,” You start, his eyes finding yours as he whimpers, “I thought you were proving just how much I needed you?”

He says nothing, staring at you intently. You ask, “What do you want?” He moans, grinds deeper and paces wider. “Need to fuck you so bad," you tilt your head, encouraging him to say more. 

“Please.” 

You give him the go ahead, and he wastes no time in sliding himself in, his desperation making him seem too excited and clingy. You let out a small laugh, though it’s not long before your prideful smirk is displaced by the other’s mouth. By your command, he thrusts swifter with more depth, moaning into your mouth. 

Your lips leave his, watching the line so spit snap, falling over his own, pink and swollen. “You look so pretty, my baby.”

It’s so confusing to you, intense in a way that it gets you going, yet also in a sense that it’s heartbreaking. You savor the moments he calls you his, even if it's only for a moment. 

“You’re so pretty,” he pants against your temples, short for breath. He clenches his eyes  closed, rolling his hips into you at a painfully slow pace. Your heels dig at the lower portion of his back, urging him to focus on fucking you fast and hard. Beomgyu on the other hand has a different idea in mind. He pulls back, detaching your arms from his, observing the shaft of his cock work its way into your sopping wet cunt. This whole scenario is obscene, dick outlining your stomach when he buries himself into you, pussy clamping on his member, the wet sounds paired with your cries get him off further. “Fuck, I’m close.” He groans, elbows back down near your sides while you cling yourself onto him once more. Thrusts hastier and needier than the last, he mutters something mindlessly—loud enough for you to hear.

“I love you.” 

Brows furrowing, you tuck your mouth behind your teeth. Desperately trying to ignore his whimpers and profanities, you find it difficult as he chants the phrase louder like a prayer. You feel the sting of tears building in your eye sockets. Chalking it up to overstimulation, you direct all your energy to hinder it, but you can’t multitask, the bruise forming on your lips finding a break as you squeeze your eyes shut. Soon enough you’re vocal, something in the middle of wailing and moaning. “Beomgyu,” you sob, yanking his tugging his head back to meet your gaze, “I’m—” Drool trickles down your chin; he swipes it away with his thumb, trailing it with quick open-mouthed kisses. “You’re so pretty.” He repeats, smudging your tears on the sides of your face. “Always pretty when you go dumb on my cock.” He moans, rhythm quivering and sights set on getting you to come one last time before chasing his own release. “I’m close, gonna fill you up.” His thrusts fasten in urgency, hissing when you scratch his back and scream his name, your back arching off the mattress. Your hips set its pace to his, and soon enough you come to the feeling of his own, hot and thick as lava against your walls while the both of you ride out your orgasm.

Regulating your breathing, you wipe your tears before he pulls his head up to gaze at you directly. He looks properly fucked out, but pulls out slowly with kisses across your face to distract you from the feeling, settling beside you instead of keeping on top of you. 

A slurry of emotions plague your mind all at once, an aftershock that feels like it hit the ground too fast, too soon. 

It’s overwhelming—not the good kind of overwhelming you should be feeling when someone tells you they love you, because you know Beomgyu didn't mean it like that. It’s overwhelming in a way that makes you want to gut and lobotomize yourself, cursing about the fact that  you’re feeling such mental and emotional torment over something so trivial.

Mind clearing up a little, you slide the thin duvet up your form; you sit up and clear your throat. “I think we should stop doing this.” You say slowly. The room is still, save for the heavy rain and whirs of the flimsy standing fan. His gaze frantically runs up your body, focusing alternating between your eyes and nothing in particular. His Adam's apple bobs vertically, yet all that comes out of his mouth is one word that teeters on a whisper. “What?” Locking your gaze with his own, you take a shaky breath, “People think we’re dating, Beomgyu. I don’t want this,” you gesture between the two of you, “whatever this is, to get in the way of me finding a potential relationship.” He sinks deeper into the mattress, Gaping at the ceiling. He asks, “Is this so bad?” View following his—you stare at the barren overhead, replying monotonously. “It is if I want to find a loving partner.” “I mean for people to think that we’re dating. Would that be the worst?” He interjects, the air from your lungs thinning out when you stutter. “Piss off.” 

He scoffs, sitting up to match your posture. “It’s not that big of a deal. You get horny, we have sex. That’s it.” You lower your head to shake it. “It is to me. You may not have a problem sticking your dick in anything that moves, but I want to feel wanted.” The bed creaks as he inches his body closer to yours. “Fuck you. I—” You lean back, widening the distance between the two of you. “Don’t start. This is different. I want a loving, meaningful relationship.” “That’s bullshit.”

Now it’s your turn to scoff. “Fuck you.” You spit, beyond aggravated. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with it these past months.” He retorts; you start clenching the plush blanket at your sides, knuckles turning white. After a few beats, you speak up again. “I think we should just be friends.” You watch him gnaw at the lower half of his lips, nodding his head. “Wait, Is it because I said that I love you?” He starts, “because, I don’t ‘love you’ love you. That was a heat-of-the moment, middle-of-sex ‘love you’.” 

You render yourself taciturn, silence thickening as time passes. You hold yourself back from saying words you know you wouldn’t be able to take back, Fixating on counting the droplets resting on the window. His hands sneak up and move your face to look at him, coaxing his forehead against yours after planting a delicate peck on the wrinkles.

“I don’t love you. Promise.” 

Beomgyu brushes his lips on the corners of your own, thumbing circles gently across your cheeks. “You have nothing to worry about.” 

His grasp on you has gone icy and numbing, matching the cool of the downpour as your mind tunes into its melancholic static. 

since this is a reup, i've decided to take the results from the deleted post, which was a landslide vote anyway. thank you to those who helped me reach 200+ notes and who reblogged, i would have lost this fic otherwise:)

thank you for reading! feedback, reblogs and tags appreciated♡

[takes1]

p.2 one night stand aftermath with needy!tsukishima

this boy is gonna get whinyyyy in the next one. sorry i haven't been posting like everyday anymore, i'm either hitting a wall or i'm exiting my manic creative fever

warnings. sfw-ish, conversation/narration about sex. minors DNI

info. fem!reader / smut build-up / flirting / one night stand aftermath / needy!tsukki / timeskip!tsukki / museum setting / miscommunication / 1.6k words / reply to be added to taglist for part 3!

haikyuu collection. part one here.

more links. masterlist. my ao3.

"Are you sure they're not in your bag?"

You did not want to bother somebody at their job because of your nephew's inconvenient tendency to leave his eyeglasses around.

The six-year-old stopped and you watched him search through his little Indiana Jones-themed bag. No glasses. Just the sandwich you packed for him, a coloring book, and pencils to go with it.

"Shit," You sighed under your breath. You had already been in the museum for an hour and a half.

They could've been anywhere. You rubbed the back of your neck and looked at the reclined worker behind the service desk in the lobby.

"We'll... we'll ask if they've seen any, alright?"

"Okay!"

You approached, hoping the man would break the ice first when he noticed you.

All he did was keep tapping away on his phone.

If anything, he shrank lower in his seat when you came up to the counter so you couldn't see him as easily.

"Hi, um- Excuse me, we just wanted to know if you've seen any glasses around- Or if anyone had come by to turn some in."

It was difficult enough to muster the courage to speak. But to make matters worse, the worker peeked out from around his shoe with the rudest 'Go away, I'm busy doing nothing' stare that he could muster.

Pressured frustration built in your chest and you readied yourself to speak louder, be more assertive so he could understand this wasn't a problem that would just go away.

It fizzled at a flash of short, fluffy blond hair.

Your fingers twitched from the memory of how soft it was against your shoulder, between your legs, against your palms.

His eyes widened with recognition. He took his legs back down, a lanky hand setting his headphones to rest around his neck.

You realized you had forgotten his name, so you couldn't express that you knew him so easily-- it left you speechless, grabbing at something to say.

Thankfully, it was a problem for later, because he confirmed that he heard you after all.

"You wear... glasses?" He asked.

His face worked, soaking in every new detail of your natural features he didn't get to see the last time you were together.

"No, I don't," Was all you could say.

You motioned to the child hiding behind your back, clinging to your shirt.

A nearly open-mouthed look.

"Oh!" You covered a small laugh at his unnaturally wide-eyed stare, "He's not mine!"

You held your hand to your heart, then placed it atop your nephew's head and ruffled his hair.

"Just babysitting my nephew. He wouldn't stop asking me to come here,"

The kid leaned all his weight to the side and squinted around, using you as an anchor to hold him up. He couldn't be bothered listening to you.

"He loves the museum."

He spared a glance to the little one rubbing his eyes behind you and, to his own surprise, found sympathy in his heart.

It was a quiet and incredibly uncomfortable search. You remembered his name along the way, thankfully.

It didn't help that it was nearly empty besides your small group making a sloth's pace throughout the vast, never-ending halls. Frequent stops at places you lingered at earlier to read plaques or marvel at figures put some occasional ease on the tension.

Tsukishima walked slow, with his hands in his pockets, and looked at anything but you.

Simply by his wordless agreement to help you, you could tell this job wasn't something he took very seriously. If he didn't already know you inside and out, he would've turned his music up to drown out your plea for help.

His calculated, but somehow yet disinterested gaze stood as strong evidence that he wasn't warm.

You held yourself to silence a shiver.

So, why did he look so heartbroken when you left his bedroom?

A quiet, toneless voice wrenched you out of your inquisitive thoughts.

"You do this often?"

You didn't understand how comfortable you actually were with the quiet until you had to come up with something to respond with. What was he referring to? The museum, or the sex?

"Um-?"

His face was so intense when you tried to look at him for more elaboration. Like you had stepped on the back of his shoe.

You quickly looked down.

"With the kid," He muttered.

"Oh, yeah," You blew a breath of relief, "Yeah yeah, I see him every couple weeks. We usually come here."

He hummed.

It was getting quiet all over again. You felt an obligation to try, now.

"Do...you like working here?" You winced. A dumb question you already knew the answer to.

His response wasn't as cruel as you expected. He even pretended to consider it.

"It pays for my tuition."

A generous nugget of information- your nephew began searching on his own accord around this old, interactive archeological sand table and you lingered next to Tsukishima for a minute.

"Tohoku University?"*

He nodded at your question as you both sifted through the sand in front of you.

"Me, too," You smiled, "Kinesiology major."

There was a small laugh on his lips. He smoothed the display back out when it was obvious there were no glasses here and you continued on your way.

"What, are you some snooty med student?" You scoffed at his perceived pretentiousness.

It wasn't rare to come across people who discriminated based on major when you interacted with so many aspiring nurses and surgeons. You liked the student athletes at your university better.

"No," He shook his head, "I- Just- yeah. It's nothing."

You believed him, but he left you confused and hanging on by a thread by his odd mannerisms and avoidant speech. It was difficult to make any lasting judgement about him.

Regardless, he stuck around and, though not enthusiastically, helped you search for the next twenty minutes.

There was the chance he could've been doing it all to repeat that night. If he gave you any indication that he was interested in a round two, you were prepared to take him up on the offer. But you had a feeling he would've already tried to flirt, or talk more, or just flat out tell you instead of dancing around, exhausting your politeness if it was the case.

Another room, another few minutes spent searching.

When nothing came up again, you got his attention with a frown, "You don't have to keep helping. I know this is pretty dull."

His face grew a bit warm. You both looked away.

"I'm not just gonna leave," He managed to work around your invitation to go away and reference your night together.

At first, you trailed behind him on the way into the next hall, but shook your reaction off and caught up to his side.

"So, why did you?"

He cut the niceties and put it all on the table, but you weren't at all expecting it to be laced in guilt, or shame, on his end.

Maybe if he had a sweeter resting face, or didn't kiss you so fast, or wasn't so handsy in the Uber back to his place, or didn't fuck you on the floor because he couldn't wait to get to his room, or didn't talk to you like he owned you, or didn't tell you to scream his name-- maybe if he just had an ounce of patience at the start, you would've foreseen his cuddly side and stayed a bit longer.

Honesty was probably best.

"I just," There was difficulty in your voice, "I just didn't peg you as the type to want more than-,"

His eyes were narrow and focused, fixated on your glossy lips as you spoke. It forced you to end your sentence short.

A minute passed and you were back to the skeleton displays.

As you watched him across the room, leaned under a bench to help search despite it being well over his paycheck, your heart squeezed.

He was a pretty boy- and kind where it counted, as far as you could tell. The most obvious trait of his was how much he liked you, even at the very start.

The way his face worked when he looked at you; intensity in the form of longing you'd never been the subject of before.

You'd be lying if you said it didn't make you feel pretty special to make a guy like that crumble.

"Found them." He called.

You groaned out a yes, excited you didn't have to pay an arm and a leg for a replacement. You jogged over to watch him wipe off the lenses on his shirt and hand them to your nephew.

"Glasses are expensive," Tsukishima placed his hands on his hips, unaware of how intimidating he was to a small child, "You should keep better track of those."

The kid apologized at a barely-there whisper and quickly clung to you again, embarrassed.

After all the searching, you were both tired and relieved to be able to go back home. Part of you weighed your legs down to this spot, though.

"I- suppose I owe you an apology, too," You admitted.

The double meaning was not lost on him. His chest swelled with a tentative, slow breath and he bit the inside of his cheek.

"You don't have to do that."

You were almost certain he was about to invite you back to his place. Just when you thought you had him, he slips away.

It was risky, but as you watched your nephew sprint over to a display he didn't see earlier, you decided it was more appropriate to try again.

"I'd love to make it up to you," You placed your hands on the back of your hips and tried to emulate the same look you passed to him in the club. Through your lashes, real casual, but unwavering eye contact.

His jaw worked at your not-so-subtle request to be invited back. It gave way to a hand rifling through his short, bouncy curls and red-tinged ears.

He looked over his shoulder to check you weren't being listened to.

A familiar sound was his low, interested mutter, "Are you free tonight?"

taglist.

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masterlist. requests closed.

*the uni mention: idk what the fuck i'm talking about lmao fan wiki failed me i tried to find out where he actually goes to college don't burn me at the stake

[chesterfieldblossom]

BITTERSWEET Logan Howlett x Reader (6.9k words)

SUMMARY | You were on a mission, Stryker got you and Logan, making you forget everything about him. You woke up in the Med Bay of the X-Mansion, not knowing what happened. NOTES | I cried writing this shit, you guys better enjoy. Also, I listened to Cry from Cigarettes After Sex and K. from Cigarettes After Sex in loop to write. WARNINGS/TAGS | Angst! Loose of memories, comforting, fluff! Logan, F! Reader, intimacy, deep talking, explicit words, amnesia. RATING | + Teen

Being the girlfriend of Logan Howlett was a hard thing sometimes. Specially when that involves being an X-Men too. But something happened in the last mission, Stryker got you and messed up with your memories. You lost everything about Logan. You just remember being a mutant and living on the X-Mansion. Nothing about him, not even his name.

As soon your eyes dart open, your mouth feels dry. You frown to yourself as you mumble, tossing.

"Where— ?"

A man that was sitting on a chair by your side wide his eyes to you as he heard you mumbling. He looked relieved.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”

You wide your eyes too, sitting on the bed quickly.

"Who are you?"

He groans annoyedly. He thought that you remembered him, but obviously that wasn't the case. He had dark hair, styled on a beast form. His eyes were hazel, and he was wearing a button black shirt and a leather jacket. He had something comforting about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

"Logan, or you used to call me Wolvie. Does that ring any bells?"

You rub your head, frowning.

"Listen, love. I probably drinked with you last night and we probably did things, but that was not me." Everything was looking very confusing. What the hell you did last night?

The man groans and facepalms. Great. You don't even remember him. It was like talking to a whole new person. But it was better having you this way than not having you.

"You're telling me that you don't remember me at all? Even a little bit?"

"Is not personal, the alcohol do these things." The calmness on your voice was a bit annoying as you reach the glass of water nearby and gulp.

He groans again. This time even louder.

"It is kinda personal though! I mean, don't you think it's bad that you don't remember me? We used to be in love, y'know! It's not like we just randomly hooked up or something.” Uh-oh.

You stop gulping, confused.

"I-" But nothing more cames out.

He rolls his eyes before looking at you

"Yeah, you heard me. We were in love. Well, until Stryker got us and erased your memories.” He sigh as he rub his head. “Damnit.”

"I don't know what you're talking about." You shake your head as you reach your shoes from the floor, putting them.

But a hand grab your wrist as you attempt to walk out of the room.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Home?"

In fact, you didn't know were you’re going. His grip on your wrist getting tighter but not to the point where it hurts you.

"Like hell you're going home. Not when I just got you back. This is your home." His voice was rough.

"I—" You look around, your eyes recognizing the familiar walls. The X-Mansion.

He doesn't let go of you and instead moves in closer to you. To the point where your bodies were almost pressed together.

"Just... look into my eyes, please?"

"How do I know you were my boyfriend? Say something about me, quick." You threat him, narrowing your eyes.

He groans again. Great. You were being difficult. He moves even closer, to the point where his chest was against yours. You could feel the heat irradiating of his body.

"Alright, let's see. You're stubborn, hot headed, and you like country music." Fuck. He knew you, at least a bit.

Your legs tangled on each other as you walk back, in shock. But he moves quickly and catches you before you can fall. He then pulls you even closer to his chest.

"See? Told you that you're stubborn. You nearly fell on your ass and you still tried to get away from me.” He hisses, the eyes throwing daggers on yours.

"This is not happening."

He chuckles slightly seeing how confused and flustered you were. But the chuckle has no humor at all.

"I beg to differ, darlin'. This is happening and you can't change that.”

"Tell me more." You pull away from him, crossing your arms. You needed answers.

He groaned again. You had to be so damn stubborn about everything, even when your memory didn't work right. But that was his girl, she was there, even not remembering him.

"What do you want me to tell you about? I can go on and on about the past and how much of a little minx you are.” His tone was annoyed.

"Say anything." You put your head in your hands as you sit on the bed. He sighs and thinks for a few seconds.

"Let's see. You have a weakness for coffee, you can't take a damn shower on normal temperature— always lava, and you can never go a day without wearing black or red nail polish."

He could hear your cursing under your breath in surprise. He smirks slightly and moves to sit right next to you on the bed.

"You really don't remember anything huh? Not a single thing that I've just said rings a bell?”

"No." Your voice cracked. But that things made sense to you, sounded like you— somehow.

His smirk falters a bit when he hears your voice crack. He wasn't expecting that. He gently puts his hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, hey, look at me.”

But you can’t. You keep your head between your hands as you feel the tears hitting the floor. He gently grabs your hands and moves them away from your face, forcing you to look at him.

"Hey, sugar? Why are you crying?"

"Because I don't have any idea who are you and you know me." You didn't remembered him, but the empathy was boiling in your blood. His expression softens when he sees the tears in your eyes. He knew how tough you were. Seeing you crying like this was very rare.

"Oh, hey. Don't cry, please. I promise that you'll remember me someday. You just have to give it time.” He pats your back in a soothing manner. But you keep your eyes shut, almost thinking that this is a nightmare and you need to wake up. Wake up, come on. You say to yourself.

He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you even closer to him. He rests his chin on top of your head.

"And if you have no recollection of anything, I'll tell and remind you just how much I love you. I promise you that.”

You don’t touch him back, but he can’t blame you— you don’t remember him. You could hear he groaning in annoyance again when you don't reciprocate. He knew that you just didn't remember, but dammit it hurt like hell.

"C'mon. Gimme some kinda response. You're being too quiet.”

"I need time." The way your voice sounded nasal broke something inside him.

But he just sighs and nods. That was... fair. You did lose your memories after all. But he wanted you to remember him so damn badly. He wanted to beat himself for letting Stryker put his hands on you. That was his damn fault.

"I know, I know. You take all the time you need. I'll be right here waiting.”

"Tell me about you." You pull away to look at him. This was a good start, right?

He leans back slightly. His eyes dart to some place behind you, thinking.

"What do you want to know? About how grumpy I am in the morning? About the fact that I drink about 8 cups of coffee per day and whiskey when you’re not watching? About the fact I love riding my motorcycle or where I hide my Cuban cigarettes? There's a lot to tell, sweetheart.” He say with a shy grin, trying to stole a laugh of you. And did worked, you chuckled.

"How we met?" You sniffed, tugging your hair behind your ear.

His annoyance from earlier subsided a bit and was replaced with a more gentle expression, a small hint of a smile showing on his lips.

"Ah, you asking the tough questions huh? Hm, let me think. It was about three years ago. You joined the X-Mansion and I— I couldn't get my eyes off you since that day." He paused painfully.

"Really? I wasn't scared by your... personality?" Your arched your brows. Now it was your turn to make him laugh. And worked— he chuckled as he rolls his eyes.

"You? Scared of my rough and grumpy personality? I doubt that. If anything, I think you liked the fact that I was grumpy so you could tease me."

You nod in silence, smiling a bit.

"I'm guessing that you're starting to believe me a bit, huh? About me being your boyfriend?" There was hope in his rough voice.

"It's still confused, but I don't doubt of you."

He looks at you with a soft expression, his thumb gently caressing your knee. He had missed you so much, and now that you were back, even if you don't remember him, he wasn't going to waste this opportunity.

"It is a little confusing, huh? But that's alright. You're here and you're safe, and that's what matters to me right now." The tenderness on his voice was killing you inside. You wanted to remember him so bad.

"What if I don't remember?" Your thoughts echoed. "The relationship —I mean."

And he groans again. You knew exactly where to hit him to make him worry. That damn stubborn attitude of yours was as infuriating as endearing.

"Then we just go from zero. I'll just make you fall in love with me again.” His voice was deadly serious.

"What if I don't fall in love with you again?" You retorted quickly.

You received a glare when you retort and a groan in annoyance. You were being intentionally difficult just to piss him off. It always worked and he hated it, but he also loved it. It was that personality of yours that made him fall in love with you —in the first place.

"What, are you saying that I don't have the charm and skill to win your heart twice? Because I do, damnit."

He made you chuckle again. You were loosing it.

"You need to be patient with me, you know?"

He rolls his eyes and nods, but underneath he was mentally cursing at himself. Patience was not exactly his strongest point.

"Yeah, I know, I know. Patience is key right?"

Your shrug, nodding.

"Yeah." You squirm your eyes to him, trying to remember a thing.

He studies your face for a bit, watching how you look up and down his face, inspecting it intently. A small part of him hoped that the sight of his face would be enough for you to magically remember him and all the memories the two of you shared. But deep down he knew that it would be a lot more work than that, it wouldn't be that simple, and that you wouldn't remember him that easy. It was never that easy.

"Tell me more about you." You try to disguise your lack of memories with a random topic. "What do you want for your future?"

He relaxes his shoulders a bit, he expected another difficult question from you, but he was pleasantly surprised that you were starting to cooperate with him. He takes a deep breath before answering your question.

"Future, huh? I've never really thought much about it. I just want a peaceful future. A future with you.” He lock his eyes on you. “I want the both of us to go somewhere and live quiet lives, away from all the bullshit and fights." You nod quietly. So he was an mutant too, maybe an X-Men.

"You're a mutant too."

He grins at you.

"Yeah, I am. And I'm damn good at fighting." He chuckles as he shows you his claws.

"Nice claws." You grin, admiring the sharpy metallic claws.

"More than just nice. They come in handy in a fight.”

"Okay, so." I pause as I look at you. "What do you do in your free time?"

He sighs, rubbing his hands on his jeans— of course you'd ask him that kind of question.

"Why do you want to know? Trying to figure out if I have any weird or kinky hobbies?"

"Maybe." You say, understanding why you felt in love with him. He was very careful with you, lightening the mood when you needed it, being patient even though you felt that this was not a strong trait of his personality. He knew where the conversation was about to go, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to lie to you if it did.

"If you must know, I usually drive around on my motorcycle, and when I'm not doing that, I'm in the training room punching things.” He show his knuckles to you. But they don’t have a bruise.

"And..." You carefully lift your eyes to his. "With me? I mean, what we were used to do?"

He grins slightly and raises an eyebrow at you, his mind wandering elsewhere. He glances you up and down, thinking if he will say or not.

"Well, we didn't really do much talking when we were together.”

"Oh." You wide your eyes in surprise. "So we’re that kind of couple."

He smirks as he looks into your eyes, his expression almost amused.

"Oh, you have no idea."

You laugh, avoiding looking at him.

"Jesus."

He chuckles, seeing your reaction. You looked embarrassed, flustered and shocked at the same time. He found it adorable.

"Told you that we weren't exactly 'conversation-friendly'”

"But we— in the Mansion?" Your smile drops and change into a concerned face.

He knew what you were insinuating. He had a feeling that it was coming.

"Yeah, in the mansion. You have no idea how many times we almost got caught.” He sighs, crossing his arms on his chest.

"Oh my God, but—" You suddenly feel embarrassed by your past version.

He chuckles and shakes his head at your reaction. He actually found it cute how flustered you got right now.

"Calm down, relax. No one ever caught us, if that's what worrying you."

You let a sigh of relief escape.

"And we date for how long?"

He takes a deep breath and thinks for a moment. He couldn't believe that you didn't remember this. Three years was a long time to just forget. He couldn't imagine how awful it must be to just not remember the three years.

"About... three years. We got together three years ago.”

"Oh." Your heart dropped. "I'm sorry."

He groans again. Why the hell were you apologizing? This wasn't your damn fault.

"You have nothing to apologize for. You have no control over the fact that you don't remember anything.”

"How I lost my memory?" You felt more secure to ask that now.

He groans again, groaning a lot today apparently. This was a touchy subject for both of you. Just thinking about what you went through makes his heart hurt. He tries to be calm as he answers your question.

"Do you remember a man called 'Stryker'?" He says the name in a disgust you never saw before.

"No."

He nods. He thought that would be the answer even before he asked you that question.

"Yeah, I figured. Anyway, he's a mutant-hating doctor. He's in charge of a mutant... elimination group. He took us a few months ago. Wanted to use us for his own personal gain.”

"And?" You encourage him to keep going.

He sighs and rubs a hand across his face before continuing his story.

"They took us a while back. Stuck us in separate cells and didn't tell us Jack-shit about what was going on. But before that, they injected us both with a serum that would... erase our memories. The next thing I remember was waking up in the X-Jet and you unconscious by my side.”

You nod silently, trying to remember. You frown to yourself.

He watches as you try to force your mind to try and remember the past. It frustrated him to see you frown like that. He hated seeing you like that. God— if he could, he would lost his memories too to keep you in company.

"Don't push it. You'll just end up giving yourself a headache.”

"Can you say more about us?" Your eyes are a bit glassy and you feel your throat sore.

He nods and takes a deep breath before answering you, trying to ignore your glassy eyes. You were holding back your emotions, that much he could tell, and he absolutely hated it.

"I... I don't even know where to start. So much has happened between us in the past three years. You and I... we share something that's pretty special, darling. I've never felt about anyone the way I feel about you— and I don't think I ever will.”

You nod, holding a sob for not remembering. You wanted to beat you up, throw yourself and the floor and scream. He watches as you try to keep yourself together. He wanted to give you space to process everything, but seeing you like that was absolutely killing him. It takes every ounce of his control not to move closer to you and pull you into his arms.

"We have the same room?" You were trying to distract yourself. In fact, his voice was soothing.

He nods, smiling slightly at you. He was grateful that you were trying to change the subject. He didn't really want to talk in-depth about the past. Not when it was hurting you like that.

"We do, yeah. I like having you close by. You give me less reasons to go looking for you when I'm bored.”

You hug your legs, nodding. Logan sighs as his heart tightens a bit seeing you hugging your legs like that. You looked so insecure and so unlike your usual confident and tough self. It kills him to see you like that— broken.

"Can I sit next you?" He asks, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. It was odd asking you permission to a thing he would do so naturally.

You lift your eyes to his, thinking for some seconds before nodding. You shift to give him more room on the tiny bed of the Med Bay. He smiles slightly at your nod and moves closer to you, sitting right next to you. He makes sure to leave a small space between you so you don't feel smothered.

"Thank you." He says gently as he looks at you. The way he looks at you is almost painful, he looks exhausted.

"What time is it?" You furrow your brows.

He glances over at the wall clock. It was getting pretty late into the evening.

"About... nine pm. Why?"

"You can go rest on your room." You nod, reassuring. "You don't need to be with me all the time."

He groans and rolls his eyes. Resting was that last thing on his mind right now. There was absolutely no way in hell that he would leave you alone here.

"Yeah, I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here by your side in this damn room.” His strong genius was something else. In the same way he needed to be patient with you, you needed to be patient with him.

"Why?" You say in a frown. "You need to rest. How long you've sleeping here waiting for me to wake up?"

He sighs when you ask him that question. That was something he did not want to talk about right now. He didn't want you worrying about him. It felt wrong. His eyes leaves your face before speaking up.

"About four damn days. I— I refused to leaver this room at all. I didn't want to miss the moment you woke up.”

"Oh God." Your heart sinks as you look at him. You put your hand on his. "You need to rest."

He groans in annoyance again, but he secretly loves the feeling of your hand on top of his. It felt electrifying.

"I'm fine. I don't need to rest, I can go a few more days without sleeping.”

"Logan..." Your eyes snap. His name. You said his name without him remembering you.

His eyes widen slightly at the sound of you saying his name. It was the first time since you lost your memories that you said his name without him having to tell you first. He looks at you intensely and studies your pretty face.

"I—" You frown, worried that may not be his name by his reaction. "Is that your name, right?"

He nods, feeling a mix of emotions. Relief, love, happiness, sadness, worry, fear. Seeing you struggling to remember things, even his name, was killing him.

"That's my name, darlin'. Good job.”

"Me on the past probably said your name a lot of times for this to happen." You chuckle, looking down. He laughs slightly at your comment.

"Yeah, you said my name quite frequently. In a multitude of ways.” He had that lazy charming grin tugging on his lips.

Your jaw drops as you realize.

"Ew, I don't need details."

He laughs again and rolls his eyes. There's the sarcasm and witty comeback that were so uniquely "you".

"Why not? Afraid you may like it if I tell you the details? Because I can tell you.” He arch one of his brows, ready to say it.

"Say it." Suddenly you dare him, looking at his eyes.

He groans and grins. You were actually daring him to tell you about the naughty stuff? Goddamn, he loved you so much. He looks right into your eyes and says, his tone lower and huskier than usual.

"Are you sure you want me to tell you about all the ways you've said my name before?"

"Yeah. Why, scared?" You tease back, almost eagerly.

He chuckles again, loving the fact that you were starting to act more and more like your old self.

"Not in the slightest. Just checking. I just don't you to feel 'overwhelmed' by the details.”

"Go ahead." You say as you shift your seat, anxious.

He laughs and grins at your anxiousness. He's been holding back for the last few days and now that you were giving him the green light to say and talk about the things on his mind, damn right he wasn't going to hold back even for a second.

"Whenever you said my name, it was never just my name. It was always 'oh Logan' or 'oh God, Logan' or my personal favorite; 'oh Logan, yes, please', or 'please, Logan, yes.'"

"Shut up!" You wide your eyes as you laugh, tapping his mouth with yours hands before someone can hear it. He laughs under your hands.

"Hey" He mumbles against your hand. "You asked for details. Now you get to deal with them.”

"Jesus." Your jaw are dropped as you laugh, removing your hand of his lips.

He grins and grins even wider as he hears you laughing again. You have no idea how much he loved that sound. It was almost like music to his ears.

"You know that's not even the half of it, right?"

"Oh God." You burst in laughs, shaking your head. "There’s more?!"

He laughs as he watches you crack up and nods. Oh yeah, there was definitely more where that came from.

"Oh yeah, a whole lot more. I could go on for hours talking about the ways you say my name."

"You're terrible." You say as you tap his mouth again before he would say anything else.

He grins and chuckles again, loving the way you're playing with him. He can feel your fingers right against his lips. He really wants to grab your hand and kiss the palm of it.

"I'm terrible? You're the one who insisted on knowing all the details."

You low your hand as you shift on your knees to have a better look on him.

"You can give me more?" You asked so shy, feeling a bit eager. That memories seems to be so precious.

He looks at you and immediately feels his insides melt as you get on your knees to look at him. God, you were adorable. He tries to sound serious when he answers your question.

"Of course I can.”

"Can you say some details of me and you?" You sit on your legs to listen to him.

He thinks about your question for a moment. What kinds of details did you want to know? Before he starts, he moves a bit closer to you so your knee is almost touching his thigh.

"Sure." He says as he looks at you. "What kind of details we talking about? First date, our first time, when we first confessed to each other?"

"Everything. Start with the first date." You grin just like a teenager receiving gossip.

He laughs at your reaction. You were acting like a little kid listening to a very interesting story. You were absolutely adorable. He had to fight the urge to pull you into his lap and snuggle you close.

"The first date, huh. Alright" He grins back at you, arching his brows as he quickly lick his lips. "Well, it all started when you agreed to go on a date with me in the first place. You were being all snarky, of course. Didn't want to go at first.”

"Ha." You roll your eyes. "So, how did you convinced me?"

He laughs as he thinks back to the memory of the first time he tried to ask you out. You didn't make it easy for him at all.

"Well, like I said, you didn't want to go on a date with me at all." He says grinning "You thought I was a pain in the ass.”

You let a laugh escape, listening to him.

He grins again, loving the sound of you laughing. He takes you back to that first date as he continues to speak.

"I had to beg, and pretty much pester you for like an entire week before you finally said yes to go on a date with me.”

"And the date was good or a completely mess?" You sit at his side again, leaning on the headboard.

He laughs as he feels your body sitting right next to his. He can feel the heat of your body so damn close to his.

"Oh, god no, it was a complete mess. I'll admit it to you right now, that was the most awkward date I've ever had in my life.”

"Oh." You rub your face painfully. "What happened?"

He laughs again as he remembers just how awkward that date was.

"Everything, basically. I was so damn nervous, you were so damn quiet, we basically sat almost in complete silence for the entire date.”

"Jesus." You shake your head, surprised. "How did— how did you kept interested on me?"

He laughed again. He has no idea how he managed to keep his interest on you after that horrible date.

"Honestly, I still can't answer that question" He sighs before shaking his head and continuing. His eyelashes brushed his cheek softly as he blinks. "I just... just something about you kept me interested, despite how absolutely damn awkward our first date was."

"Okay," You nod, taking mental notes. "How about... our first time?"

He glances at you and sighs. Seeing your eyes on him, looking at him with anticipation, it made his heart beat just a little bit faster and his mind go a little more fuzzy.

"You want the details on that one, too, huh?"

"Please." You nod, keeping your eyes on his.

He chuckles and rubs the back of his neck as he prepares to tell you about your first ever time together as a couple. He can feel his face heating up, it's almost a little embarrassing to talk about the intimate details of that day.

"Alright, the first time, huh" He says as he looks at you. "You were... really nervous about it, which, honestly, caught me a little off guard, considering how you were usually so confident about everything.” He frowns a bit.

"Yeah?" You asked curiously. "And— what happened?"

He laughs softly as he remembers the events of that night. As awkward as it was at first, it was still one of his best memories.

"We— well, it was pretty rocky and awkward at first. We weren't exactly, um, communicating well at the time. But then we just... things, I suppose you could say. We started really getting into it, and by the end, we both had a damn good time.” He grins at you in a tender manner.

"So you managed to get me comfortable." You could feel your heart getting warmer.

He smiles slightly at you. Yeah, he managed to get you comfortable. He managed to get you to lower your guard.

"Yeah. I managed to get you to relax enough to enjoy what we were doing." His eye flutter, remembering.

"And our confessing? How was that? When happened?" You say as you lean on him, unconsciously.

He grins at your question. God, that was almost as nerve-racking as the first date. It took him a ridiculously long time work up the courage to confess to you for the first time.

"God, it took me forever to work up the courage to confess to you and to tell you I had feelings for you.” He chuckles, rubbing his face.

"Tell me, please." You plead, completely taken by his memories. "Details." He sighs and groans slightly as you demand the details from him. It's almost like you're making him go back through all those stressful moments again.

"Fine, I'll tell you the details." He says, feigning annoyance. "It was the middle of the damn night. We were on that damn jet after a mission, and I waited until you were completely alone to corner you and tell you how I felt."

"You waited after a mission to confess at the X-Jet?" You frown a bit. That shit must be funny as hell.

He laughs slightly at your reaction, nodding to confirm your statement.

"Yeah, I waited until after a mission. I wanted to make sure you were alone and you had enough time to relax before I approached you about it. I was worried you were going to kick my ass or something."

"This is the worst time ever." You, chuckling. "And what did I said?"

He grins again and laughs, agreeing with you. It was probably the worst time to pick to confess to someone.

"You thought I was making a bad joke at first. You weren't even taking me seriously when I told you I was being serious. So, I had to try and convince you that I was being completely serious about my feelings for you."

"How did you convinced me?" You were enjoying this conversation —and silently loving hearing his voice talking nonstop.

He grins again, loving the way you look so interested in what he has to say. It gives him the courage to continue to tell you every single little detail he can remember from the night he confessed to you.

"I told you that I had been feeling that way for a really long time. That it wasn't some random, stupid joke. I had to literally sit you down and convince you that I felt that way about you. It took a really long time to persuade you to believe me."

"And what I said later? I kicked you?" You frown, curious.

He laughs softly and grins.

"No, sugar. You didn't kick me. You were still a little stunned and confused, but I saw how— how your eyes suddenly flared up as soon as you finally understood what I was saying. There was no way I was going to let you run away when you were looking at me like that"

"Looking how?" You keep your eyes on his, it was impossible to look away. That hazel eyes burned on yours in a way your mind couldn't ratiocinate.

He looks into your eyes intently as he thinks about how you reacted that night. He remembers your eyes looking at him with shock, confusion, excitement, surprise, and then a flare of intense heat.

"Like you didn't want me to stop talking. Like you wanted me to keep going and keep explaining myself. Your eyes were flared up, and you were looking at me with so damn much heat in your gaze that I almost pounced right on you right then and there."

You could feel your heart bumping as he talks.

He returns your intense gaze, feeling drawn to you. Just like that night, he feels the urge to pount on you again and just take you, right here and right now. But he holds back, for now. He still had plenty of details to tell you about. And yet— you need time and space.

"I swear, you were looking at me like you wanted to devour me."

You grin to him, keeping the eye contact.

"Do you— do you believe in soulmates?" The way his presence would absolve all the ambiance, God, that wasn’t normal.

He grins back, loving the way you keep looking at him. Damnit, he could look into your eyes for hours.

"I... I don't know if I buy into the whole 'soulmate' thing.” He says jokingly. "I wasn't sure I could ever have a soulmates until the moment I met you."

"It's so weird." You narrow your eyes, putting your hand on your chest. "I don't remember a thing, but I feel so comfortable with you."

He smiles and sighs. Yeah, it was a bit weird. You don't remember anything about him or your life together. But he's happy at the fact that you're feeling comfortable around him.

"Don't overthink it.”. He says softly. "Maybe the mind forgets, but the body and the heart never does."

You melt under his words, wanting to beat yourself for forgetting. How could him be so charming?

He keep his eyes on you, loving the way you look right now. Like you're absolutely smitten by him right now. He really does wonder sometimes how his tongue manages to be so silver. It's gotten him into plenty of trouble over the years, but right now, he's so very happy with how it's working for him.

"And what is your favorite memory?" You don’t want to pull away from his hazel eyes.

His smile softens as he immediately thinks of his favorite memory with you. There were plenty of moments and memories he loved, but one in particular stuck out, even among his favorites.

"My favorite memory, huh?”

He looks into your own eyes as he grins again and sighs softly, thinking about his most favorite memory of the two of you together.

"My favorite memory was the day you told me you loved me back for the first time."

"Can you tell me about this one?" You plead, even worrying about asking him too much.

He smiles and chuckles, immediately thinking about that moment, one of his all time favorite moments of his life.

"Of course. I can tell you all about it." He says softly as he lets himself become immersed in that specific memory. "It wasn't some big and elaborate moment, to be honest. It was just the two of us in the living room, just relaxing together. I was just talking, babbling about some trivial stuff that happened when I was away on a mission. I made some joke about something, and you just— just looked at me with that sweet little smile and said."

You keep silent, feeling a bit emotional.

"Thank you for having patience with me. I know I can't stop throwing questions on you."

He laughs softly and grins, shrugging his shoulders. He honestly doesn't mind it at all. He gets to talk about his memories with you and seeing the wonder in your eyes as you listen to his stories. That's all the incentive he needs.

"Don't worry about it. You can ask as much questions as you want. I ain't going anywhere."

You gulp some tears. You glance away, feeling your heart clenching.

"I just—" You pause, gulping a sob. "I'm just feeling so cared right now, I’m sorry."

He immediately notices how distressed you sound and how your face is starting to crumble. He immediately feels the need to comfort you. To make sure you're okay.

"Hey, hey it's alright.” He says soothingly as he moves closer to you. His smell filling your nostrils— pine, musk, cigarettes, leather. "Hey, there's nothing to be sorry about, alright? Don't cry, cmon."

You chuckle at his worried face, trying to pull the tears away.

He watches as you try to hold back your tears, feeling the need to reassure you. He wants to wrap you up in a tight hug and soothe you, but he's not sure if it would be alright to make a move like that at the moment.

"Hey, listen." He says. "you don't have to apologize for anything, alright? Don't let these damn tears fall."

You look at him with the tears already falling.

"Too late." You smile to him.

He groans to himself as he sees your tears fall. He can hear the wavering in your voice as you struggle to speak, and it's making him really want to just pull you close and hold you close to him to stop your tears.

"Dammit... don't do that, okay? Don't cry like that" he tries to sound stern, but it's a useless effort. He just sounds concerned for you now.

"I feel lucky to have you, even If I don't remember a thing." Your voice cracked.

His heart squeezes when he hears your voice crack. You sound so— so distraught right now, and hearing you like that is not sitting well with him at all.

"Hey, don't talk like that, love." He says as he gently puts a hand on your shoulder. "I'm the lucky one here. I'm the luckiest man in the damn world right now."

"For what? Having a girlfriend with amnesia?" You whisper with sad eyes, you almost laughed without humor, almost.

He frowns, feeling himself getting a bit angry at your words. How dare you think he's unhappy about you losing your memories. It's certainly not ideal, but he won't let you talk like that about yourself.

"Just shut up, alright?" He says firmly. "So what if you can't remember any damn thing? I still love you. I don't care if you remember me or not, I still love you.” He says as he holds you by your shoulders.

You wide your eyes, looking at him. The way you look at him just like that day, the day that he confessed. The same burning way. He could feel his guts twisting. You look like he's the most precious thing in the world to you, just like you did the night he confessed to you. It reminds him of that night. Makes his heart beat a little bit faster as a smile slowly appears on his face.

"Darlin..." He says in a low, soft tone.

"Yes?" You whisper, wiping a tear.

He sees your face, the tears staining your cheeks. He wants to hold you so damn badly. He wants to pull you tight against his body and whisper sweet things against your ear, promising to take care of you and never let you get hurt again.

"Come here for a second." He ask, opening his body language to you.

You reach him, laying your face on his chest as you embrace his waist. You could feel the warmth of his body comforting you. He grins again as you immediately move so close to him. He can feel your soft, slender arms wrapping around his waist and your face burying into his chest. He feels his heart skip a beat as he realizes that you're willingly getting closer to him and wrapping yourself around him.

"Shhh... it's alright. I got you" He soothes as he wraps his arms around your body and pulls you flush against his chest.

You close your eyes, and for one second— you felt like in home.

He rests his chin on the top of your head, holding you tight. The feeling of your body pressing against him is one of the best feelings in the world. You feel so small in his embrace, he wants nothing more than to keep holding you close to him, to keep you safe in his arms and to never let you get hurt ever again.

"Close your eyes.” He whispers. "Just listen to my heartbeat and focus on that."

Logan can hear you sniffling again and feels the way your hands are tightly clutching at his shirt as you bury your face against his chest. He can hear the way your breathing is getting a little bit more heavy as you're desperately attempting to force your tears to stop.

"It's alright.” He whispers softly. "Just focus on my heartbeat, alright? Focus on that and nothing else. Just breathe and relax.”

He smiles to himself again, he can feel your heart slowing down as you start to focus on the sound of his heartbeat. He feels so damn happy having you in his arms like this. Being able to hold you and comfort you. He can't get enough of the way your body feels pressed up against his, and he knows he'll never get enough of this.

"There you go, good girl" He says, rubbing his hand up and down your back. "Just keep listening to my heartbeat."

[morinuu]

commoner trouble

kyouya x fem!reader (1k words)

black locks fell on kyouya's set of charcoal orbs, his monolids hidden behind his glasses from the angle you were sitting. the couch began to feel uncomfortable, as if something were calling you to stand up and gently take his glasses in your hands, caressing his hair and letting him rest his head on your chest.

his eyes would finally relax and his body would ease in your arms as he'd take deep breaths to finally let go of all the stress that managing a host club and his studies brought him.

he'd sigh and relieve his eyes for a couple of minutes while you caressed him, before inevitably having to end his break and return to work.

he would. in your fantasies.

you sat in the host club's purple couch, uncomfortably staring at your classmate who was writing something on his laptop on a desk not too far away from the rest of the hosts. this was your routine.

you'd go to the club after classes, sit there for some minutes, waiting and waiting for your turn to try and make an appointment, but there was always some type of shitty excuse from the man.

"our hosts have different price ranges, you wouldn't be able to afford an appointment with me, ms. y/n." you didn't ask how he knew of your financial matters.

"i'm afraid we're all booked the entire week." his voice echoed almost void of all emotion, before he turned to another girl who wanted to re-schedule with a smile on his face.

"our prices went up this week." they hadn't, but you wouldn't know since he never actually told you the prices at all.

one stupid excuse after another and another - and you finally stopped looking for a logical explanation for his hostility. 'it's fine, you'll get your turn one day.' you told yourself each time.

you didn't ask for much really, just an appointment with ootori kyouya like every other client of his. but you hadn't considered the difference between you and them - class.

in all honestly, at first, kyouya had been indifferent to the new honour student of ouran, until he found her staring at him shamelessly throughout their classes together. he figured she'd stop soon, probably just fascinated by his looks.

but it's been four months and you won't give up.

it's not like you're harassing him. you keep your distance in class as not to make others notice, you don't ask for his help in subjects where you could seriously use it - mainly german - and you don't approach him during lunch either.

just at the host club, where you were allowed to ask for his attention as long as you paid a fee. it wasn't unfair or a difficult request, just some tea and a conversation would quench your thirst to talk to the man, to actually engage in an intelligent conversation with him.

but alas, not only did your wallet have limitations, so did kyouya's patience.

he found you... unsophisticated. vulgar, maybe improper?

he didn't express his distaste for your clothes, which were trying to replicate a male ouran school dress code since you didn't even own a yellow dress. your black trousers and white dress shirt barely looked like they were of similiar material, because they weren't. your worn out sneakers hurt his eyes when they stood out against all the neat and polished pointy dress shoes of every other student.

to his elegant and privileged world respective, you were nothing but a pitiful woman, treated like charity by the school so the public can say 'the suoh family cares for the sad common folk!'

he didn't even stop to consider how similiar you could've been to haruhi, because haruhi - as much as he refused to admit it - was a dear friend. she was nothing like you, surely. she wasn't unkept, she was always groomed and wore the uniform that she'd been given.

no, your eyes from across the room looked nothing like haruhi's. yours expressed pure admiration for a man who never bothered to say hello unless he had to.

but he'd warmed up to the other commoner, so you two must live differently.

because your neighbourhood is much sketchier than the quiet area the fujioka's lived in. your clothes are much more worn out than haruhi's, much more washed too.

but it's not like you're apart of the club or their clientele (that one's because of him) so he can't check on your life much. it's not like he cares to check either, you're just unpleasant and he blames it on your wallet. surely that's what's ticking him off.

the minutes were passing and he knew he'd have to stand up and kick you out once more, like every day you came by the club. only this time, just as he raised his head to look at you and approach you again, you'd already started walking to the exit.

what? how come?

it didn't matter, you left on your own. maybe it was a sign that after four whole months you'd stop requesting him. he turned his attention back to his laptop, not wanting to go through the trouble to check if you were really gone.

until a couple minutes later he saw a hand slam down on his small table, with some 10,000 yen bills below the hand's fingers. his gorgeous, wide, gentle, doe-like perplexed eyes found yours in a matter of seconds and his breath hitched at your determined facial expression.

"i'd like to book an appointment for ootori kyouya this thursday." you muttered a bit nervously, as if you hadn't quoted the same line over and over since the beginning of the school year.

just as he want to reject you, you pointed to the money on the table. "it's enough. i know it is. and i know you're free." your tongue played in your mouth and you looked away, intimidated by the eye contact.

he didn't know how hard you'd worked just to save up barely enough money for an appointment. how hard you tried to keep up with your studies, your exploitative part time job and your housing bills. you were embarrassed at how desperate you were just for simple chat, but it didn't matter.

because kyouya ootori had finally accepted a 35 minute appointment with y/n l/n, and you couldn't be happier.

divider by @saradika

[tropicalszns]

hii i just saw your recent post asking for requests.

i was thinking about one where nanami’s your therapist and you’ve been going through a difficult time recently, maybe with like work or family stuff, and you feel he’s the only one you feel calm by and end up catching feelings and he definitely likes you too, and then at some point when she has a breakdown in a session and it all blurts out and then sfw or nsfw from there lmao. maybe he feels guilty about reciprocating or smth bc it’s not professional. ‘we shouldn’t be doing this’ type shi.

love your work btw and your page is so pretty xx

THERAPY SESSIONS !

⋆˚⟡˖° 𐙚 nanami kento x black!fem!reader

about

you end up falling in love with your therapist, nanami, but he loves u too

content contains

NSFW ! ꒱ angsty-fluff, finger-fucking, crying, mention of death (brief), consent checks, cowgirl position, backshotsss, nanami just being such a sweetheart i love him

word count

4,427

a/n

THANK YOU SM!! it rlly brings a smile to my face when people love my work bc it motivates me to keep making more content!! this one is saur interesting, i hope this is good type shi

Your leg bounced against the wooden floor. Your heart thumping with anxiety, your skin freezing with goosebumps. The air around you felt cold and dry, the water filter two seats away from you could be heard buzzing softly. The coffee table in the middle was filled with magazines, talking about subjects about celebrities and how to stay consistent with your routines or something of that nature. But alas, none of them was in your interest.

You pressed your back against the plastic black chair, placing your arms on the cold, metal armrest. Your breath hitched, looking around the dull room. This was hour first time going through with therapy. Of course, it wasn’t your first time— but it technically was. You were either too scared or never enjoyed the therapist you were talking to. They would be too inconsiderate, too busy, or you just didn’t like them.

You were snapped out of your thoughts, only to be heard by your first and last name. Your ears perked up, “Yes?” You felt a pairs of eyes watching you as you rose up from your seat, it felt triggering. You saw a lady with a slicked back bun, thin-rimmed glasses and a mole by her bottom lip. She smiled at you so sweetly, her shirt having the logo of the company on her right chest, and her pants having a slick leather texture. Her arms having dainty, small gold bracelets and bangles.

“Mr. Nanami is ready for you,” she announced. “follow me.” You nodded, following her down the hallways. Each step felt nerve-wracking, the hallways felt like they were creeping in, and the air continued to feel colder and drier. It was like your mind was spinning, you couldn’t control your unsteady breathing.

“Here we are.” She interrupted your thoughts with the open door of your therapist’s counseling office. It was a white painted room, plants specifically placed around, a large dark-ish blue couch with white and ivory pillows. A thin gold table, two books placed on top of each other. A small fake plant in a wooden circular vase. Across from it sat a man with slicked back and neatly parted blonde hair, a chiseled jawline, with some fitting thin eyebrows and small eyes. He wore a necktie with a dotted pattern, blue dress shirt underneath his tan blazer with matching slacks and light brown shoes.

You blinked at him, slowly stepping into the room. It was a contrasting temperature from what the waiting room was. The door closed behind you which made you jolt. You glanced around the room, fiddling with your fingers. “Good afternoon,” the man spoke, his voice deep and thrilling. “you can have a seat on the couch.” His hand stretched out the dark blue couch.

You nodded, making your way to the couch and sitting down. “Hello,” he smiled. You looked around the room, moving back against the couch. “Hi.” You waved, returning the smile sheepishly. “how are you feeling, today?” He asked, adjusting clipboard on his lap. He took a pen from his chest pocket and clicked it. The clicking of the pen made you uneasy, letting out a sigh.

“I’m feeling fine, I guess.” You shrugged. Nanami could tell that you were feeling uncomfortable and uneasy, he wrote down your initial reaction upon entrance and hummed. “So, I see that you’re feeling a bit nervous? Is this your first time going to therapy?” He assumed, watching you subconsciously bite on your bottom lip and fiddle around with your fingers. “No.” You shook your head.

“I’ve went to therapy before, it’s just they never worked out for me. I didn’t like my therapist, so I just stopped for a few months because I.. I was just scared to try it again.” You explained. You couldn’t help but look into his eyes, they were so mesmerizing, so.. relaxing? “So you came here because you wanted a rebuttal at it?” He interrupted. You nodded, watching him write down the words you’ve just said. “Well, I am glad you’re giving therapy a shot. My name is Dr. Kento Nanami, but feel free to address me however you’d prefer.” He chuckled dryly, trying to lighten up the mood. “Let’s start off with some questions, shall we? I want to get to know you.” He said warmly.

“To begin, what do you expect from our therapy sessions? For example, you expect to experience this, or you expect to feel this after a session.” Nanami spoke in a soft and polite manner, making you feel at ease. “Uhm, I expect to feel better, I guess?” Your breathing came out roughly, your hands rubbing on your knees. “Better? How so?” He questioned

“Better as in, I expect to feel more aware of my feelings and learn how to control them. I have a rough time with doing that because I tend to let my emotions get the best of me.” You spilled out your thoughts for a moment, not intending to. “Hm, interesting.” He marked down in the clipboard. “Well, what do you mean by letting your emotions get the best of you? Can I get an example.” He tilted his head ever so slightly. He was so interested in you, as he is with his other clients but you were different, he didn’t know how. The warm and comforting smile never leaving his face as he watches you speak. You were slowly getting more comfortable in the environment, which is a great sight to see from Nanami.

“Well, I was having an argument with my mom this one time and it got pretty heated. I wasn’t that mad at her but in the moment things got so intense so I just yelled at her and accidentally smashed her vase.” Your eyes filled with guilt, looking down at your hands on your knees. “It was a vase that my grandmother, her mom, gave her to her. Unfortunately she isn’t here anymore.. and it won’t be the same if I buy a new one.” Your vision began to cloud up, you swiftly wiped your tears before they fell. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Nanami’s smile dropped, his heart aching for you.

Nanami passed you the tissue box, you shook your head. “I’m fine.” You reassured, but both of you knew that you weren’t. “She got mad at me for about a couple months, we don’t really talk like that anymore. I just feel really bad about it. When I let my emotions get the best of me, I tend to do things out of my character, then that’s when I mess up.” You frowned, your heart thumping with anxiety as you continue to confess.

“I’ve lost friends, I’ve lost relationships with people I love all because I couldn’t control my emotions. I sit in my room and think if I’m just a bad person and I’m trying to change but I feel so alone and weak.” You finally let the tears run down your cheeks, wiping them with the wrist of your hand. “Sorry.” You apologized, you sniffed away some snot that probably wasn’t gonna run down your nose. “It’s okay, there’s nothing to be sorry about. I actually applaud you for telling me this, you’re taking baby steps which is a great step in the right direction.” He comforted. Nanami watched you nod at yourself but you still didn’t look proud. “I don’t think you’re a bad person, I don’t like that type of wording. You seem like a wonderful woman to be around.” Nanami’s smiled appeared once more.

“Thanks.” You felt your lips quiver into a smile for a second. You’ve been told this by many people before, but it honestly never felt genuine. Somehow and someway hearing it from him, from Kento, made you feel more confident on the inside. He seemed genuine. “I like that smile, y’know.” He saw a sparkle in your eyes he wanted to see more often. You shyly looked away. “Um, can I lay down?” You asked. Nanami nodded, “Of course. Do whatever makes you comfortable. This is a safe space.” He reminded. You lied down on the couch, pressing your back against the pillows and moving the others to rest your legs on the armrest carefully.

“Let’s move on, shall we?”

It’s been a good half a year after that first session. Each week you came back to see Nanami, and each session made you feel more and more comfortable in talking to him about your issues with work, school and just life. You couldn’t help but feel stomach churns when you’re near him. Recently you’d just gotten his number so you can talk to him after-hours about things.. professional of course.

You’d wake up early, already to see a text awaiting for you. “Good morning, hope your day turns out great! Can’t wait to see you for our session, much love, Nanami.” Much love. Much love. You felt like you were going crazy about this man. It was cutting into your work life. Every second, you would check your phone to see if he would text you knowing well he was at work, with other clients. The thought of seeing him talking to people besides you made you itch in your skin.

Your boss had told you multiple times to get off your phone when you’re on the clock, but you couldn’t help it. You know his break time, the time he starts work and the time it ends. It was getting to be an unhealthy obsession. You came home after a long day at work, plopping onto your bed. Your hands crossed over your chest, staring into the ceiling fan that was circulating around. “Do I like him?” You wondered. No, you shouldn’t. He was strictly your therapist, what a weird power dynamic. But he would always reach out to you after sessions, he even told you that you’re the only client he gave his number to! For fucks sake, he called you a client! Your hands reached your face, you began groaning loudly at your dilemma. You definitely like him.

But there was no way you could tell him that, everything would get awkward and you hated it. You didn’t want to switch to another therapist because you just so happened to like your current one. But you can’t leave Nanami alone. You want to be with him, you want him to call you a beautiful girl, a wonderful girl, you wanted his praise. It was like the only thing that mattered to you. You loved how genuine he was, he told you no lies and you loved that most about him. Nanami was perfect, so well kept, so professional, he had a PhD in psychology! He was so smart! There you are working an office job, never getting time to yourself. You didn’t know what to do with your life.

You knew this feeling was probably gonna wash away after a week or two. You were wrong, after each session the attraction and desire for him got stronger. The way he smiled at you was so captivating. His hair so neat, his golden watch glistening, his skin so soft and perfect. It could make a grown man cry from how beautiful he was. You knew deep in your heart, you had a deep desire and love for Kento Nanami, you couldn’t hide it anymore.

During one of your sessions, you began talking to him how overwhelming the workload and frustration. You were lied down on the couch, tears streaming down your cheeks. “My boss just expects so much more from me now, and I know I have been slacking but he’s giving me extra work to seem like if I don’t do it he has a reason to fire me.” You vented, squeezing a stress ball that he gave you. “Breathe..” Nanami reminded.

You took a deep breath, turning your head away. “Why have you been slacking, you’ve been telling me that work has been going well, suddenly you’ve been getting distracted? Can we talk about that?” He carefully asked, you were in such an emotional state he wanted to pick his words wisely. Nanami watched you chew your bottom lip, your fat tears streaming down your face onto your neck. He took a moment of silence for you.

“You’re gonna be weirded out, I can’t.” You shook your head. Nanami only smiled, “What? Impossible. I could never be weirded out by you.” Usually his words would reassure you, but this time it didn’t. No amount of comforting or soothing he can do could make you feel less guilty. You wanted this feeling to go away but you can’t, you wanted— no, you needed him. “Talk to me, I promise nothing you say or do will make me feel weirded out like you’re saying.” He continued to speak, his concern started to peak.

“Nanami,” you turned your head to him, you began to subconsciously squeeze the stress ball harder. “I.. you know how we’ve been texting a lot after sessions, and I’ve been trying to see what times you text me back, what you’re trying to text me..” Nanami chuckled, “You think I’m gonna be weirded out because you like to text back at my—” “Nanami, I think I’m inlove you.” The room went silent, no words could be spoken in that moment. Nanami’s breath hitched, it was like an eye-opener. There was no deny that he definitely had feelings for you as well, but he couldn’t say that, not in here.

“Are you..” he hummed, looking down at his clipboard. “Okay, well. Let’s..-” “I don’t wanna talk about it right now, can we just switch topics, please?” You interrupted, Nanami nodded. “As you wish..” he said lowly, guilt filling your eyes even more. It pained him to see you in that state, but it pained you even more to think you’ve went days thinking about him and practically losing your mind.

Later that night, you were curled in your bed, blankets over you as you closed your curtains and blocked any type of light. Your phone suddenly buzzed, turning over and picking your phone from the night stand. Your eyes squinted, it was a text from Nanami. “Hello, I know you were pretty upset about our session today, I’m sorry for unsatisfactory communication between us. I’d like to know if I can come over and talk things with you. I’d hate to see you upset. With everything going on, you don’t have to reply. Sweet dreams, Nanami.” You quickly replied back, telling him that he can come over and briskly gave him your address.

You got out of bed and rubbed your eyes, you took off your bonnet and tossed it somewhere, opening your curtains and trying your best to make everything look in tip-top shape. You got a text from him saying that he was outside, you sprinted and opened the door. You wiped your eyes, taking deep breathes before opening the door slowly. A small smile appeared on your face. “Nanami…” you said lowly. He smiled back, waving. “Hey listen, I’m sorry I acted so weird during our session today, I just so overwhelmed and.. I’m just really sorry, so much.. going on.” You allowed him in, and he only shook his head.

“It’s alright, I can understand. I’m sorry for such a short notice, I just wanted to talk to you.” He calmly spoke. You observed that he was still in his uniform but he had no blazer. His body so well-built and damn, he was tall. “Yeah, totally.. uhm,” you nodded, trying to maintain your cool as you glanced around. “Uh, would you like any water? Tea?” You offered, but he only kindly shook his head. “No, thank you. I don’t plan to stay long.” You felt your mouth get dry, gulping down your saliva. “Alright, well.. we can sit on the couch, my room is a bit messy.” You chuckled sheepishly.

You both made it to the couch and you sat down next to him. You watched Nanami sit down, a soft groan escaped his lips, he pushed his hair back to return it back to its slick and neat appearance. “Nanami.. before you talk I just wanted to apologize for telling you I’m in love with you. I shouldn’t have said that, at all. I put you in such an uncomfortable position and I didn’t even consider thinking if you were married or taken by someone.” You took a saddening moment to breathe. “It’s alright. ‘Cause I’m in love with you too.” You felt your body freeze, you raised a brow.

You began to laugh awkwardly, “Joking, right?” Nanami wasn’t smiling, he didn’t look like he had a joke planned for you. “Are you serious? I- I don’t know what to say.” Your heart began to pump faster than you can think. “You don’t have to say anything,” he reassured, he got closer to you, placing a hand on your thigh. “Can I.. kiss you?” He asked. Without any hesitation you nodded your head, “Yes!— I- I mean, yeah, of course.” Nanami lightly chuckled, he put his hand on your cheek, a thumb grazing your bottom lip. He admired your soft lips, he moved his thumb and pressed his lips on yours. You’ve been waiting for this moment, for months.

“Nanami..” you tried to speak, “Hush, please.” He silenced you. “I want you to enjoy this, I want you to relax.” He hummed. He pulled you on his lap, continuing to kiss you. You put your hands on his shoulders, the kiss becoming intense. “So beautiful,” he whispered, sliding his hand up your shirt, caressing your back. His lips kissing into your neck, hearing your sweet moans. He swore he could feel his slacks get tighter from him getting so hard from this.

Nanami slid your shirt off, revealing your glowy and supple skin. He couldn’t help but stare. You still in your pants with only a bra on now, you were such a sight for sore eyes. “Tell me when things get too fast. Alright, dear?” The cute pet name made you shudder, “Mhm.” You hummed. “I love you.” He looked at you, watching tears swell up. He knew this wasn’t professional, hell he shouldn’t even have been at your place. But, he couldn’t help himself. He’s gotten so close to you it’s like he couldn’t imagine a world without you in it. He loves you and he doesn’t think his job will even get in the way.

He knew this was wrong, his mind fogged with questions on how he got to this point with a mere client. He didn’t know why he was saying “I love you” to a client. He didn’t know why he wanted you. He didn’t know why he wanted to hold you, kiss you, be by your side. He didn’t understand himself, but all he knew was that he wanted more. “I love you too, Ken.” You spoke back. He pressed his face against your shoulder.

Sucking and kissing on your neck. Leaving a light purple mark that definitely will be able to show. He was so obsessed with your body. It was so soft, so sweet and rich. He had used his free hand and tried adjusting himself in his slacks. “Shit.” He cursed underneath his breath. “I need you..” he muttered. “Can I fuck you, please?” You were so taken aback by his politeness even though you were already half naked. “Nanami, you’re already stripping me.” You prompted. “I know, my love, it’s just.. I need to make sure you’re okay with this.” Nanami felt nervous and he usually wasn’t anxious about anything. The thought of him pumping his dick so roughly in your pussy made his dick twitch from his pants. He wanted this, so why was he scared?

“I am, I’m fine.” You assured. Nanami took a breath before sliding off your pants off, now you were in just your bra and underwear. He felt his heart racing as he slid your underwear down, he could see how damp the fabric was. He bit his bottom lip, moving his thick middle finger inside of your tight, wet pussy. You immediately clenched, gasping and slapping a hand over your mouth. “No— fuck.. are you okay?” He asked, his finger being trapped inside you. “Yes.. it’s just, your finger is just.. Give me a minute.” He nodded, letting you to adjust to his big finger. While he waited for the green light, he took your hand off your mouth. “I wanna hear you, your noises.. they are nice to listen.” Nanami expressed which made you flustered.

He instead held your hand, using his finger to pump you in and out. “Does that feel good?” He whispered, your back arching as you squeezed your eyes shut. “Ah- fuck..” you moaned. You gripped his hand tighter, trying to keep your composure. “F-feels so good..” you managed to spill out, your hips subconsciously bucking up as his finger slid deep inside you. The sounds of your juices gushing along his finger. He was knuckle-deep inside you, watching you break down over just one finger.

He thought that you were ready then slid his middle finger out. Before you could speak, he put in both his middle and ring finger. You clenched tightly around his fingers, your clit throbbing with sensation. “Oh- fuck! Kento..” you whined out. “Is it too much for you, sweetheart?” He asked. You simply shook your head, “No, I can take it..” you tried to say smoothly but your back arched, letting out a deep moan. “I’d hope so.” He muttered. You felt Nanami thrust his fingers into you deeper, you were on the brink of losing it all.

His thumb grazing over your clit and gently rubbing it. You dug your nails into the knuckles of his hands. Your other hand gripping his shoulders with your face curling up in pleasure. “Are you about to cum for me?” Nanami spoke. His deep voice sending thrilling chills through your body, “Mhm..” with your hum he pulled his fingers out of you.

“W-what? Why’d you do that?” You whined, the fullness that lingered left you. “Not yet, I want to put it inside..” he unbuckled his belt and zipped down his slacks, sliding his boxers along with it. You glanced down at his dick, gasping in shock. He raised a brow, “Is there something wrong?” He asked. You shook your head, “No- it’s- I’m sorry, I was just shocked I guess.” Nanami felt a twinge of embarrassment.

“I’m gonna put it in, alright?” He placed both hands on your hips. You cringed from the wet fingers attached onto you. One hand gliding his pink, fat tip that was wet with pre-cum along your wet pussy. He let out a throaty groan as he shoved his dick inside, his face scrunching up with desire. He heard your sweet moans leave your mouth, giving him no time to adjust before clenching around him. “Please, y- you’re gonna make me cum, don’t clench like that.” He grunted, “M’sorry, I can’t help it..” You apologized, “It’s okay, sweetheart. Jus’ take it,” he looked up at you, his hands easing to your waist. Nanami was too focused on wanting you to cum all over him, he didn’t ask if he could move. He began to thrust in and out of your sloppy pussy.

“N- Nanami, fuck, s’good.” Your words began to slur, your lips connecting to his to distract you from the increasingly rough and deep strokes. He kissed you back, moving his tongue in your mouth and swirling your tongues around. “Feels good, sweetheart?” He whispered against your lips. Your ass slapped against his thighs, your wetness smothering over his shaft and balls. You hummed, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. “Mhm, yeah.. s’deep.” Your moans couldn’t be stopped, your jaw dropping leaving your mouth wide open.

Your fingers rose up to his undercut, biting your lip as Nanami squeezes your ass. His thrust began to falter, the way your moans were clear in his ears made his dick twitch. Nanami grunted, it was getting hard and harder for him to concentrate. He meant to pull out but he was so drunk off your pussy it slipped his mind.

He slipped out of you and panted. He laid you on the couch on all fours, even though you could barely stand up on your own. Without any thought, he shoved his dick back inside you, groaning with pleasure as his hand grip your ass, fucking you roughly on your couch. “K- Kento, slow… slower please.” But Nanami didn’t listen, he unclasped your bra, pushing the straps off your shoulders. “Sweetheart, your pussy,” he moaned, his lips your ear as he played with your nipples. His chest against your back as he went faster and harder. “I love it so much, f- fuck, you’re gonna make me cum so quick.”

You subconsciously clenched around him, your nails digging into the armrest. You felt your eyes roll back into your head, your ass slapping against his waist, your boobs jiggling each thrust. “Ken.. M’gunna cum..” you warned, but he didn’t care. “Cum, sweetheart. Please, I need it so much.” Nanami swore he going crazy, his dick twitching as he kissed on your shoulder- the exact same spot he left the hickey. You took a hand and rubbed your throbbing and aching clit, putting your head down as you moaned. Nanami hid his face in the crook of your neck, pumping himself roughly into you, trying to make you cum. The euphoric feeling washed over you, soaking Nanami’s dick with your sweet juices. “Kennnn..” you whine. Nanami felt you shake underneath him, he was restricting himself so much he couldn’t help it anymore. He pushed your head down, firmly gripping your hair.

“Shh, please, take it, I’m almost there..” your muffled moans filled the couch, your legs tensing up as you soon felt a warm sensation in your stomach. The sounds of Nanami’s cum gushing into your womb made you whine. It filled you up so much, curling your toes in pleasure. Even after a minute he was still going, so much cum filling you, you were bound to get pregnant.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I couldn’t..” he panted, taking his hand off your hair and wrapping his hands around your waist. He still was deep inside you, not daring to move a singular muscles. He planted soft kisses on your neck.

“I love you, even if it’s wrong..”

made by, tropicalszns, please do not copy, steal or repost my work without permission

[narcoticv3nus]

If I Wasn't So Fucked Up (I'd Fuck You All The Time) ᡣ𐭩 higuruma hiromi

minors do not interact! | mdni!

summary: hiromi was not someone who sought intimacy or relationships, and he lacked experience with women. however, he ended up with a wonderful girlfriend, you. he tries to take care of you, but sometimes struggles with expressing his emotions. he is often busy, leaving you feeling lonely. he finds it difficult to come to terms with your unhappiness and does his best to make it up to you. tags/trigger warnings: 18+, f!reader, no use of y/n, anxious!reader, crybaby!reader, reader has hair, mention of cigarettes, healthy relationship dynamic, self-indulgent, heavy smut, heavy fluff, pillow talk at the end, slight angst, hurt to comfort, makeup sex, mutual obsession, crying, talk about issues in relationships, p in v, foreplay, pet names ("darling", "baby", "love", "my love"'). wc: 5.8k

a/n: a character.ai bot i made inspired this piece! here is the link if you are interested.

As Hiromi drags his feet through the front door, warm, ambient lighting and the aroma of a freshly cooked meal instantly greet him, hitting his nose. He then drapes his coat across a dining room chair before taking off his shoes, neatly placing them beside yours. He sighs in relief as you suddenly appear in front of him. You smile at him, but it doesn't meet your eyes. You reached up, softly undoing his tie while refusing to meet his gaze.

"Are you hungry?" You ask softly, flickering your eyes up at him as you place a hand gently on his chest. A small smile tugs at his lips as he gazes at you, his large, weary eyes taking in every tiny detail of your face. He can tell something is not quite right: you look tired and worn. And your usual loving warmth feels more far away. Still, you look just as beautiful as always.

“Yes,” he says quietly, a hint of exhaustion lingering. He raises a hand, running a few fingers through your curls as you undo his tie.

"Something smells good.", he adds before leaning in and kissing your head.

You pull away, pecking his lips before returning to the kitchen to prepare his plate.

As you retreat into the kitchen, Hiromi's gaze lingers, following your movements while he rolls his head on his shoulders. He makes his way to one of the dining chairs, taking a seat before he loosens the top buttons of his dress shirt. He finds his mind preoccupied after the workday, and his entire body feels physically heavy, but being in your presence puts him at ease - there’s no one else he’d rather spend his evenings with after work.

Placing his plate in front of him, you fill two glasses of wine before sitting next to him. You bite your lip hesitantly as you watch him take his first bite; your eyes are more absent than usual.

"Is it good?" You force out, eyes fluttering over towards him.

Hiromi takes notice of your distant expression and how your gaze is unfocused as you stare at him. A slight frown momentarily creases his brow, but he gives you a nod, a reassuring smile forming on his lips as he turns to look back at the food.

"It's wonderful. Thank you.", Hiromi replies in a low tone, his voice softened by exhaustion. Despite your far-off attitude, he lifts a piece of food onto his fork and takes another large bite.

"You're welcome." You respond, offering him a smile before a thick silence consumes the scene.

As the moment stretches, an uncomfortable silence takes over. The quiet ambiance of the room feels heavy with tension, and a sense of unease settles within Hiromi. He furrows his brow slightly before taking a sip from his glass of wine, his mind racing as the distance grows between you.

"Is everything alright?" he manages to ask, his voice soft and filled with concern. He places his fork onto his plate, turning fully towards you to decipher your expression.

As you look up at him, guilt seems almost to swallow you whole.

"No, no... I mean, yes! Everything's fine." You stammer, taking a sip of wine to hide your embarrassment.

"Just a long day..." You half-lie because, in truth, it was.

He looks into your eyes and sees you struggling to conceal your emotions. He reaches for your hand, gently holding it while rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. His expression is concerned but calm, and he squeezes slightly.

"Long day? Would you like to talk about it, love?" he asks softly, his voice a low rumble. Perhaps it's due to his exhaustion, but all he can focus on is the apparent strain on you - he can't ignore that something is weighing on your mind.

"It's fine..." You try to convince him (and yourself). Yet all you can focus on is the smoothness of his voice and the weight of his large hand encompassing yours. His thumb absentmindedly rubbed gentle circles into your skin. Concern draws his heavy brows together, and his eyes plead. You feel your body grow warm from your desires, the red wine sitting in your belly doing little to help.

"You're stressed and..." You start, your eyes fluttering over his face, taking in his handsome features. "I just don't want to put anymore onto you."

His expression remains concerned as he listens to you, and he squeezes your hand once more, silently reassuring you that he is willing to listen. He can practically hear the tension in your voice as you speak, making his chest ache. A part of him yearns to know what's going on, but another part wants to pull you into his embrace and soothe you.

"If anything is bothering you...you can talk to me, love." He promises with a sweet kiss to your hand.

"I just... miss you." You admit weakly, shifting uncomfortably in your seat, your eyes darting back down to your combined hands. You nervously begin fidgeting with his fingers.

"I rarely see you, and we haven't gone out in a while. You only come home when I'm asleep most of the time, and then you leave again before I wake up. We haven't... done it either." You feel your face grow hot in embarrassment and guilt, but it feels good to get it out finally.

His heart clenches at your words. He wants to hold you, pull you close in his arms, and bury his face in your hair. He can practically feel the hurt in your voice, which makes him hurt, too, but he grips your hand instead.

"You're right.", he begins softly, his voice filled with guilt and regret. "I...I have been working almost non-stop this month, and I promise you there's nothing I'd rather do than spend more time with you. I'll try harder, I'll do better..."

"I don't want you to feel like it's your fault." You shake your head quickly, feeling the guilt weigh further on your shoulders. "You're good to me and always take care of me. I–I know how demanding and strenuous your work is. I feel bad for asking so much of you, but…” Your words jumble as your mind scrambles, and you let out a long sigh, trying to blink back the rising wetness in your eyes.

"Darling... look at me." he gently cuts you off, softly but firmly, as he lifts his free hand to your face and gently turns it towards him. Despite the fatigue that's settled in his bones, exhaustion and weariness filling his every move, his eyes look you over with regard and care.

"You're not demanding...not at all. And you're not in the wrong for feeling like you miss me or want me home more often - it's alright that you feel this way; I know I'm still here, with you, always."

Smiling crookedly, the lump in your throat grows tighter, and your vision clouds as you look up at him. Hiromi had always been patient with you, never judgmental, and always kind. You feared your emotions were too big—too sensitive, but he never seemed to mind; he seemed to cherish it.

"I know, I just... don't want to put any more pressure on you." You swallow thickly, hoping to suffocate the urge to cry in front of him.

Your words make his heartache for you even more, his thumb tracing circles into the skin of the back of your hand in a way to soothe you, his other hand gently caressing your cheek. He leans in a little closer, searching your face.

"Darling... I want you to tell me when these things bother you; you're not putting pressure on me; you're just expressing how you feel. And I want to listen to you. I'll always listen to you, alright?"

His words hit home, breaking the dam you were struggling to maintain. Fresh tears slipped down your cheeks before your hands quickly wiped them away. You sniffle, your smile shaky, and you gaze up at him through glistening eyes. The words: ‘Thank you’ sit on your tongue heavily, yet it feels strange thanking him for something you shouldn't be thanking him for. He's just so good — unabashedly and without selfish reasons.

"I love you." You say instead, and it comes out strangled and pitched, but you force it out nonetheless.

His mouth forms a tight line as he watches you, his chest constricting at your tears and the sound of your voice wavering as you speak. He leans in closer, gently tugging your hand, and he brings you towards him, his other arm wrapping around you and pulling you into him.

"It's alright, my love... there there..." He speaks softly and gently, running a hand soothingly over your back as he pulls you closer. He presses a gentle kiss to your nose, then your cheek, then your forehead.

"I love you too, always."

You giggle at his attempt to console you, contentedly purring as you sink into his embrace. "You're so good to me." You mumble aloud, half of your face squished against his chest.

He pulls you closer still, letting you bury your face into his chest while his arms wrap around you tighter. He rests his chin on your head, running one hand through your hair, and holds you close while you sit perched on top of him. His heart finally settles slightly at the sound of your laugh and the feeling of your body pressed close to his, and he lets out a quiet huff from his nose.

"Of course... you mean everything to me.", he whispers, his voice slightly muffled.

A wide smile splits across your face from his words, your cheeks growing warmer. His voice washed over your being like an incredible wave on a hot summer's day, forcing your body into a calm state of arousal. The feeling of his large, warm hands scoping the reins of your waist causes a shiver to roll up your spine. His pectorals are large, soft, and squishy through his wrinkled, white button-up that you rest your cheek upon.

As you feel his lips press against the top of your head, you drink in the musky, woody smell attached to his clothes. A faint scent of pine and cigarettes clings to his body, a subtle reminder that you know he's been smoking more than usual this month, no doubt from the stress of his job. You never say anything, but you worry. And you know that he knows you worry.

"Hiromi..." You breathe, writhing in his embrace, your thighs pressed together. "It's been so long..." You begin, your voice shy of its usual self-confidence, worried you’d ask for too much. Just last week, when you had tried to initiate intimacy, he had explained he was too exhausted and had promised "another time" that never came. Of course, you remained patient and would never ask for more than he could give. And yet you were growing more and more needy as time went on. Hiromi was a passionate lover, but his libido seemed to be less as intense as yours was.

Your words make his heart flutter as he feels you shift, his eyes flickering down to where you had pressed your thighs together, and his breath hitches for a moment in his throat. His hold around you tightens as if he were worried you would pull away from him, his hand gently playing with the soft strands of your hair while you focus his senses.

"Darling..." he begins quietly as his thumb reaches up, carefully grazing your bottom lip, feeling the slight moisture from your tears still clumped on the skin.

"I... I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry; s’not your fault." You reassure him, your heart clenching at his voice's tone yet beating faster at the feel of his finger against your bottom lip. You press your lips against the tip of his thumb, causing a shuddering breath to leave his mouth.

"I just miss you..." You breathe, pressing your chest against him, your eyes darting towards his lips.

"I know... I miss you too.", he murmurs, gently shifting to close the remaining distance between you. He bends his head down, palm cradling your face as he presses an achingly tender kiss, sighing softly against your mouth.

You moan into the kiss, letting your hands rest gently against his stubbly cheeks. He hadn't shaved in some time, but you quite like the 'disheveled' look on him.

You kissed him back softly or tried to, at least, quickly becoming more and more aroused. ‘It's been so long,’ you justify your impatience inside your head. ‘He just looks so good, smells so good, feels so good’ — the mantra in your head continues. It's not long before your trembling fingers undo his shirt's buttons, desperate to feel his warm skin against yours. His body shudders in response.

His breathing wavers just slightly as he feels you press harder against his lips. Your impatient moans and the way you hungrily press against him sparks even more desire deep within him. Before Hiromi realizes what he's doing, he's pulling you closer than before, practically into his lap, as he deepens your kiss.

He slides his hand to the back of your head, burying his fingers into your hair as he continues to explore the heat of your mouth.

Once you finish unbuttoning his shirt, you don’t bother wasting time by shrugging the rest of it off; instead, you instantly glide your hands down his body and back up again. Without even realizing it, your body begins moving on its own — your hips grinding down against his thigh.

"Missed you..." You huff as you part from his mouth, your chest heaving in lack of oxygen. Your lips find his ear, nibbling softly, and you undo his belt with one hand, the other still pawing at him.

Your movements draw shaky breaths from him, his hands roaming down your sides to settle on your waist. Despite his fatigue and exhaustion, he feels desire and warmth surge through his core as you unbutton his pants, and he gently pulls back to give you a moment to breathe.

"Darling... wait..." he mutters against you, his voice coming out in breathy pants, his forehead resting against yours.

"What's wrong? Do you want to stop?" You panic, worry and guilt quickly settle in at your restlessness.

"Nothing's wrong..." he reassures with a small smile, gently caressing your cheek, and shakes his head. "I just think we might be more comfortable in the bedroom."

He then pauses, a slight frown settling onto his expression, and he cups your face in his hands, his thumb tracing the skin under your eye.

"Are you sure you want to do this...? You don't have to, I-"

You quiet him with a deep kiss, pulling him upwards and guiding him towards the room. You pull him along quickly, hastiness settling into your bones.

"Need you so badly, Hiro." You whine once you enter, quickly discarding your clothes before him.

He lets himself be dragged into your bedroom, slightly stumbling as he follows behind you, and a breathless laugh leaves him once you begin undressing in front of him. His eyes can't help but rove over your curves and the soft expanse of your skin, and once you toss aside the last of your clothes, he steps closer towards you with a determined edge to the way he moves.

"Darling..." he mumbles as he pulls you into him, his mouth grazing your jaw before his teeth sink into the crook of your neck.

Your sudden gasp trails off into a high-pitched mewl. You close your eyes in bliss, grasping at his messy hair as your body arches further into him.

He closes his eyes as he relishes the mewls and gasps you produce as he sinks his teeth into soft flesh, his hands roaming over your bare form, touching you everywhere and yet never staying in one place for long. He pulls back, panting heavily against your skin, and he trails his mouth down and across the slope of your shoulder before he lifts you off of your feet and onto the bed.

You quickly sink into the plush mattress, giggles leaving your lips as your excitement becomes too much. Your mind repeatedly screams: ‘Yes, yes, yes!’ as Hiromi shrugs off the remainder of his clothes. You bite your lip as you watch, your eyes practically glowing with hunger and anticipation.

"You're so handsome... so sexy." You giggle, sighing in utter happiness as you watch him with rapt attention.

His breath gets caught in his throat for a moment at your words, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards into an intimate smile as he lets himself sink onto the bed before you, his knee slotting between your legs and hands coming to rest beside your head as he pins you between his arms.

"And you're gorgeous, darling..." he answers before his head dips down towards your neck again, his teeth and lips grazing over your skin, and he bites down on your collarbone as he lets out a huff.

"You're the most beautiful person." You confess longingly, kissing the top of his head as your hands explore the length of his back.

He chuckles breathlessly against your skin, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder, and he sighs, shifting closer to press even more against you. At your compliment, however, he lifts back up to look at you, the pink hue that had been dusted across his cheeks turning even darker.

"You're far too sweet to me..." he says quietly, his eyes meeting yours, and he gently caresses your cheek as those warm, brown eyes of his lock gaze with yours.

You don’t bother with a reply, only turning your head slightly to kiss the inside of his hand, your lustful gaze never leaving his.

A fond smile twitches at the corners of his lips, but that smile slips once more as he leans down again and presses his mouth to yours. His tongue quickly sneaks past his mouth and flicks out to brush against your own, his teeth grazing gently along your bottom lip.

One hand slips down towards your hip, wrapping under you and lifting your hips towards his, and he lets out a quiet, shaky groan at the press he feels against his growing desire.

You happily swallow his groan, flicking your tongue desperately into his mouth. Your hand reaches upwards, settling against his own, which he keeps cradled against your cheek.

"You're s'big..." you moan, feeling him harden against you.

A low groan leaves his mouth as he lets his eyes flutter closed at your words, his cheeks growing warmer at the compliment. The sound of your voice is the only thing registering through the fuzzy haze that had settled into his mind, his body growing warmer and warmer as you press flush against him.

He dips his head back down, his mouth coming to nip and bite at your neck, kissing and laving his tongue over the skin as he works to leave a visible mark.

You wrap your legs around his slim waist, heels digging into his backside to urge him further against you. You lift your hips, arching your back as you rest your head against the bed, panting with want and desire. "Need you..." You repeat, dragging your hand through his hair.

He lets you nudge him, and the feeling makes a dizzyingly overwhelming heat spread in his gut. He groans lowly against your skin; he presses himself and grinds against you as his body begins to move on autopilot. He can feel the heat of your breath against his skin when you whine, and he lifts his head to look at you.

"Say it again..." he orders quietly with a groan.

"Need you, Hiromi... please?" You beg; your voice is high-pitched and whiny. Your skin burns up from the intensity, down to your toes. Your eyes are glassy from unshed tears, and your lips are red and shiny with your combined spit. A slight sheen of sweat had formed on your face and body from the shared heat of your bodies pressed together and your breasts heaving with every breath you took. Your eyes were lidded with want, looking up at him like he had hung the moon and stars in the sky just for you; like he was the only person in the world.

He stares down at you, his breathing ragged and shallow as he takes in the sight of the way you looked, so utterly breathless and undone. The way you mewl up at him, the way your hair splayed out against the pillows, and the feeling of you cupping his cheek make his breath hitch in his throat, and the heat in his gut grow further.

He stares down at you for a few more moments before he dips down to capture your mouth in another kiss, his hands gently resting against your hips.

Hiromi can taste the desperate desire on your tongue as he lets his teeth catch your lower lip and lets his body rest against you, his chest flushed against your soft skin, and he can feel your heat against him, sending a shiver down the length of his spine. His hands slip down to rest against your bare thighs, and he presses in closer, grinding against you in response to the way you arch your back once more.

"Need you inside..." You breathe into his lips, swollen, red, and glossy. "Please?" You plead, your nails digging into the skin of his shoulders.

He shudders as you utter the words into his mouth, and he nods in agreement, biting gently at your lip before he pulls back to look down at you. There's a slight flush on his cheeks, and when his eyes dart down again, he can see just how red- and bruised your lips were because of him.

His breath stuttered at the sight, and he leaned in to press his mouth against your neck, his lips trailing up toward your ear. "Anything you want..." he whispers.

You moan at his words, trailing your hand downwards, wrapping your hand around his cock: red, angry, and drooling down your fingers. It twitches with interest as soon as your skin makes contact with it.

His hips stutter at your hand wrapping around him, and his teeth graze against your earlobe at the sensation, his breathing hitching, and he moans as his body moves on instinct, rolling against your palm in a way that makes his blood burn hotter. His mouth latches against yours, silencing his gasps against your tongue.

You move your hand faster, desperate for more of his reactions before you slow it back down, too impatient to have him inside of you as you guide him towards your drooling pussy.

His body arches against you when you guide him inside; he can hear how his breath stutters when it catches in his throat. He can feel how hot and slicked you are against him. His breath leaves him in short gasps, biting down on your skin as he lets his desire drive him forward, thrusting hard until he’s balls deep inside of you.

"Fuck, baby,” you keen, tossing your head back as you claw at his hips desperately. "'missed this." You gasp, your eyes fluttering at the feel of him stretching you open.

He can feel the heat of your breath against his skin as you moan out for him, and his hands come to grip your hips, his nails leaving behind red lines he knows will turn angrier soon enough. He shudders against you, and his brain feels fogged over as pure need for you washes over him, leaving him in a delirious haze.

The way you say you missed him so earnestly makes him feel dizzy with pleasure, "Missed this too..." he mumbles against your skin.

"Yeah?" You giggle breathlessly, raking your nails through his hair and down his back. "…haah…Did you think about me–" you let out another moan as he began moving his hips. "when you were away?" You kiss his ear.

He buries his face against your neck at your question, groaning as he pushes in further, savoring the way your body feels against him. Your nails against his skin make his breathing shallow, and the sound of your moans makes his head feel too fuzzy, "I thought about you all the time..." he mumbles against your skin, his voice low and shaky.

"Me too." You confess, tightening your thighs around his waist. "Played with my pussy thinking you: at work...in your suit..." You whispered into his ear about your fantasies of him, all the while pressing kisses into his skin.

As you spoke, he could feel the heat pooling in his gut and how your words went straight to his dick, feeling it twitch even more inside you. He groaned as he rocked into you, and his hands on your hips tightened. "Did you really?" he breathes against your skin, biting and sucking against your neck.

You pull his head out from your neck, smiling up at him with a crooked, dopey, cock-drunken grin, your eyes lidded as you bite your lip. You lick a stripe of beaded sweat trailing down his neck up to his jaw, sucking at his skin that you know for sure will leave a mark. You pull away with a pop, satisfied with the blooming reddened skin. He lets out a loud, stuttering gasp.

"Every day," You answer with a huff, looking deep into his eyes with a pleased smile.

He can feel your body beneath him, writhing in response to the way he moves, and it drives him into fucking you harder. He gives a sharp thrust upward, groaning as he lifts one of your legs onto his shoulder as leverage.

You keen again, your mouth falling open in a perfect 'O' as your eyes close shut. "Yes!" You mewl sweetly, your nails digging into his biceps. "Just like that, Hiro." You praise, arching your back further as you chase the intense feeling.

His groans grow louder and more desperate-sounding as you praise him, and the feeling of your nails in his skin makes him whine. He takes the praise to heart as he moves against you, shifting with a new sense of purpose as he gives another sharp thrust upward to press against you.

Your voice grows uncontrollably louder, drawn-out whines and wanton moans spilling from your lips without a single thought in your mind. You couldn't even form the words to praise Hiromi if you tried.

"Don't stop!" You begged, your climax drawing closer and closer.

His fingers dig into your skin as he moves against you, the heat in his gut and the all-consuming sensation spreading across his body, making his breath shallower and his vision start to blur. The way your voice grows more and more desperate leaves him breathless, and your moans drive him even further.

He could feel you tightening around him, making his body burn hotter, and he shudders at the feeling, pressing into you further. The sounds of your combined lovemaking grow louder: the heavy, wet slap of skin against skin, the shameful groans and keens of pleasure, and the panting breaths mingled with the sound of lips smacking against one another. "So perfect..." he manages to gasp out, his voice shaky.

You felt your body pulsating at his praise, pawing desperately at his body in hopes of grounding yourself from the onslaught of pleasure.

"Says you..." You moaned, digging your heels into his lower back.

He groans low in his throat as he presses against you, his head growing dazed from the heat and the feeling of your nails on his skin. He could feel his breathing grow more shallow with each breath he took, his hips beginning to jerk against you. "So perfect for you..." he gasped out, pulling you even closer against himself as he leaned down to press his mouth to your neck.

You weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry at his words, so you opted to moan louder. "M'so close, love." You confessed before your voice cut off, tossing your head back. Your lips fall open in a silent scream as you convulse around him, spraying his lower half in your release. You continued to let out pitched whines and mewls, your eyes rolling back in overstimulation.

He groaned into your neck as your body convulsed around him, the feeling of you squeezing around him making his thoughts grow even more scattered. He whines as he moves against you, not stopping for a second as he tries to ride it out with you.

You’re left breathless, and you struggle to keep still as he moves against you through your orgasm, his name falling from your lips in gasps and moans.

Your voice and stuttering breaths make it hard for him to think, but he leans into you, pushing a hand through your hair to pull you in for a trembling and messy kiss, his mouth moving against yours sloppily. His breath still staggers, and the feeling of you underneath him makes his body grow even hotter as he continues to push, his thrusts becoming sharper and faster as he chases his end.

You practically scream into his kiss, pushing weakly at his lower abdomen even as your hips still chase his. "Inside... please come inside me..." You pant hotly into his ear.

His hands tighten on your hip at your words, his breathing growing shaky, and he buries his face against your neck as he shudders at the way your body feels beneath him, "Want you - want you..." he gasps out against your skin, a moan leaving him as Hiromi moves faster against you, his body almost dizzy with need as he presses against you, his rhythm and pace growing more irregular as his release grew closer and closer.

"Want you too— mmph!... haah... all the time!" You intertwine your hands in his, squeezing it in your grip.

He bites at your skin to muffle the sounds he makes at your words, his hand squeezing against yours. His own pace grows sloppier, his movements jerky as he grows closer to his release, his breath coming out in shaky huffs against your skin as his body shudders with need and pleasure.

"Say my name... fuck!... when you cum, baby." You beg, mouthing kisses against his chin.

He groans into your skin at your words, his breath ragged and more hitched as he gets closer. He presses another kiss against your skin, his breath warm against your face as he huffs out your name against your cheek. He gasps out as his pace grows rougher and quicker before giving a final thrust up against you as he comes undone, his body tense and rigid against you.

You smile widely, biting your lip with a surprised gasp. Feeling Hiromi pulse and shoot ropes inside of you always felt so heavenly, like a reward. You look up at his pussy-drunk expression and giggle, your heart filled with too much love to carry.

"Sounded like a good one." You huff, dragging your nails down his back while your other hand holds his face.

Hiromi buries his face against your neck again as he struggles to catch his breath, his body still pressed against you, and he can feel the way his chest rises and falls from how he struggles to control his breathing. He groans at the feeling of your nails on his back, and his breath hitches when your other hand comes up to hold his face, his expression turning more dazed from your touch as he presses his hand against yours.

He pulls away from your neck, softly panting as he looks down at you with a crooked, sleepy smile. "Yeah... yeah, it was..." he sighs out.

"You're a mess, my love." You sigh, kissing him softly before urging him to roll over onto his back. "Y'should get some sleep." You smile down at him with your own sleepy, fucked-out grin, looking at him with nothing but love and adoration.

He willingly goes when you urge him to, groaning at the feeling of your mouth against his as he rolls over onto his back. He looks up at you affectionately, returning your smile contentedly. "So should you..." he mumbles, reaching out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear before letting his hand rest against your cheek.

You hum in agreement, snuggling up against him. "Wish we could do that all the time." You mumble sleepily.

He chuckles, one arm wrapping around you and holding you closer against himself, kissing your forehead. "We would die..." he grumbles tiredly, tilting his head to lean his face against yours.

"Not that I'd be against the idea...".

"I'd die pretty happy." You weakly chuckle as exhaustion overtakes you.

He laughs again, the sound of a soft huff of breath against your skin as he nuzzles further against you. "As would I..." he mumbles, his eyes growing lidded and heavier with sleep, his exhaustion catching up with him.

Despite that, he still takes the time to press another soft kiss to your forehead before pulling you in even closer toward him.

"I love you, Hiromi... s’much." You kiss his chest.

He closes his eyes and lets out a deep, tired exhale, smiling as he listens to your words. At your kiss against his chest, his grip around you tightens, pulling you closer to himself as he mumbles out his response against your hair. "I love you too..."

main masterlist, rules

[god-has-entered-my-body]

Blurbs you say?? I am thinking thoughts… about matty’s dick in my mouth while he smokes a cigarette <3

This #unedited and sort of shit, but i promised myself to not to obsess over it too much. also i cant not post without a fancy title and banner bc im allergic soz xx

Go down - Matty Healy

A/N: im shit at blurbs, minors do not interact

wc: 1.5k

-

The door shuts with a loud bang, Mattys footsteps echoing through the foyer. Ridding himself of his jacket, chucking it onto the couch, he sits down next to it, an exasperated groan leaving his lips. His voice was sore, raspy from tonight's gig. Sold out, ten thousand people, all screaming the house down as Matty sang his heart out. Fans went wild as he unbuttoned his crisp white shirt, leaving all but one buttoned unfastened.

It still was, the fabric now wrinkled and slightly damp from the sweat, clinging to his body. It took everything in you to not jump onto him right at that moment, take him then and there. No, he was tired, eyes shutting as he rolled his head back, resting it onto the edge of the sofa. His voice was low as he spoke. 

“Darling?” you hum in acknowledgement, peeking your head around the corner, still trying to tow your shoes off. He waits for you to actually enter the room, a rough hand running through his gelled hair, tucking some of it behind his ear. 

“Could you pour me some wine?” Despite having been drinking the entire set, Matty always liked a healthy glass of wine when he got home, exhausted and missing your presence. Usually, you would take the time to talk about the show, what the stagehands had fucked up this time et cetera, et cetera. This time, however, you had other things on your mind, and, based on the way his eyes dragged up and down your body as you walked by, he did as well. 

You grab two glasses from the marble cupboard, setting them onto the counter. Pouring both of you a generous amount, you check yourself in the reflection of the microwave. Your hair was a bit messy, and your mascara was slightly smudged from dancing, but it didn't bother you.

“Thank you, love.” a grateful look spreads onto his face as he takes a glass from you, smiling. You place a chaste kiss on his lips, wiping a bit of dirt off his face with your free hand. Before you could even move to sit down, his hand wraps around your lower back, pulling you into an awkward kneeling position between his legs, the edge of the sofa digging into your knees. He kisses you like this, setting both your glasses onto a small table, freeing up both hands.

You shift, using his shoulders for leverage, lowering your body onto the floor in front of him. 

“What are you up to, mh?” he asks, his filthy smirk making your head spin. 

“Could ask you the same thing, undressing in front of an audience.” you mention his little display, thrusting up into air as he danced around, the screams of the crowd only spurring him on. He pretends to look offended, shaking his head in protest.

“It's art.” 

“It's insanely hot, is what it is.” you grin, hands settling right onto his belt. 

His breath hitches, breathing pattern slightly irregular as you look up at him through your eyelashes, blinking innocently. 

A quiet “Oh, fuck me.” leaves his lips, and he coughs, trying to remain composed. That proves more difficult than he thought, especially with you looking at him like that.

“Can I?” you ask, voice dripping like honey. The look on his face when you let things drag on like this was delicious, eyes drooping shut as he groaned your name. 

“Shoot me if i ever say no to that question, fucking hell.” That's all you need, your hands making quick work of the black leather belt in front of you, the sound of metal against metal so unbelievably erotic. 

Above you, you hear Matty shuffle, hands digging into the pockets of his suit jacket. Producing a pack of cigarettes, he sticks one between his lips, light not far behind. Something stirs in you when he lights it, the soft glow of the flame making him look even more attractive than he already was.  

He’s hard against the palm of your hand as you work the buttons of his trousers, pulling them down along with his black boxer-briefs. The cool air makes him groan, a cloud of smoke leaving his parted lips. The smell doesn't take long to fill your senses, so distinctly Matty. 

Not in the mood for a tease, his hand finds the thick locks of your hair, threading his fingers through it. Taking another drag of his cigarette, he watches you suck the tip of his cock into your mouth, moaning when the taste of him hit your tongue. 

He gathers your hair up into a makeshift ponytail, keeping it out of your face as you take him in, hollowing out your cheeks in that way that makes him lose his mind. 

His hand pushes your head down lightly, silently asking for permission. You let him, his cock brushing against the back of your throat, making your gag reflex kick in. Using a trick your friend had taught you back in highschool, you press your thumb between the rest of your fingers, trying to suppress it. 

Matty is shameless above you, moaning and groaning whenever you bobbed your head, incredibly pent up and desperate. 

Trying again, you let him guide himself deeper into your mouth, his sounds of encouragement spurring you on. 

“So fucking good, just- yeahh, thats it, fuck” his words go straight to your core, and you clench your thighs together, trying to relieve some of the aching pressure between your legs. 

Bobbing your head, you breathe through your nose, taking him as deep as you can without gagging, feeling him twitch in your mouth. His tip leaks salty precum onto your tongue, the smells of cigarettes the only thing you could concentrate on. You look up, your eyes meeting his right as he takes a drag, pushing your head down even further. Again, you sputter, but you don't get off.

“God, you’re so gorgeous, choking on my cock like this.” he groans, throwing his head back in pure ecstasy.

“Made for me, weren't you? Perfect mouth, shit.” his rambling lets you know he’s close, hips bucking up into your mouth, your tongue running over the vein on the underside of his cock, pulsing with need. 

Taking one last drag, he lets the finished cigarette fall onto the concrete floor behind the sofa, both hands now on your head, fucking his cock into your warm mouth. 

You moan around him, the vibrations sending curses falling from his lips, the sounds of his movements echoing through the living room. 

“I’m not gonna last, fucking- oh god.” he warns you, quickly pulling off him. Shaking your head, you raise your eyebrows at him and a small smile spreads onto your face. 

“When has that ever been an issue?” he laughs, brushing your hair out of your face sweetly. You rub your cheeks against his thigh, eyes set on his weeping erection, desperate for release. 

“Now, let me take care of you, okay?” he nods slowly, both his arms spread out on either side of him, letting you have full control. You dive back in, switching from kitten licking the tip to deepthroating him as far as you can go, his gasps of pleasure like music to your ears.

“Jesus, you‘re a fucking wet dream.” he moans, hips bucking uncontrollably as he spills onto your mouth, hot ropes of cum painting the back of your throat. His legs shake as you hold your head there, taking everything he gives you, the salty taste of him like heaven.

You stick out your tongue proudly, showing it completely clean. His hands grab your shoulders as fast as they can move, pulling you up and onto his lap. He kisses you, hard, tongue forcing its way into your mouth before you could even react. Groaning at the taste of himself on your tongue, his fingers wipe at your cheeks, rubbing off your mascara, which had started to stream down your face. 

“You're a temptress, you are.” he grins, kissing you again, softer this time. Rolling your eyes, you use your nails to scratch the back of his head, knowing how much he loved the sensation.  

“You didn't even try to resist.” you spit back, giggling at the speed at which he’d pulled you onto him, not even bothering to take his shoes off before plopping onto the sofa. 

“I didn't, did I?” 

[suugarbabe]

Peaceful Sleep

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x y/n

Warnings: drinking, fluff

The start of the year party was still in full swing when you and your group of friends tucked away into the back corner to play your usual game of truth or drink. Theo, Draco and Blaise sat across the big couch, in that order. Mattheo took the chair to their right while Pansy and Enzo sat in the loveseat on the left. You sat on a cushion on the floor, elbows resting on Draco’s knees. You had designated yourself as the shot pourer as you were (1) the most sober, though that wasn’t saying much and (2) Mattheo had a heavy hand and you didn’t trust him not to put an extension charm on the shot glass.

As you sat down, Pansy gave you the eyes, wiggling her eyebrows seeing you snug between Draco’s legs. You sneakily gave her the finger as you rolled your eyes, essentially telling her to shut her drunk mouth. Pansy had stayed at yours for two weeks over the summer holiday and you had essentially blabbed about your growing crush on Draco since year three. As soon as he stopped slicking his hair back it was like he was a whole different person, a hotter person. Each summer was just so good to him. He looked a little stressed this year, but you chalked it up to you all having to take your N.E.W.T.S. at the end of the second term.

“Okay, I’ll start us off,” Mattheo began “Truth or dare Enzo!” Enzo rolled his eyes, “truth, I s’pose”. Mattheo’s grin turned delivish, “Okay, how many wet dreams did you have about Pansy this summer!” Enzo’s cheeks immediately turned red. Pansy rolled her eyes, “Merlin, Mattheo, really this is how we’re playing tonight?” Mattheo smirked, shrugging his shoulders, “Isn’t this how I always play? Enzo, boyo, answer the question now.” Enzo shook his head, declining to answer. So you poured him a shot and he took it happily.

Enzo turned to Theo, “Truth or Dare.” Theo sat up straighter, though his eyes were half lidded, indicating he was far more drunk that he was trying to appear, “Dare, give me your best shot.” Enzo sat, thinking for a moment before Pansy leaned over and whispered something in his ear. Enzo’s grin grew as he nodded his head. “Okay, Theo, I dare you to go ask Looney Lovegood to hogsmead this weekend.” Theo looked over to the dance floor where Luna Lovegood was dancing with large glasses on, quite oddly, with a group of friends.

The group watched as he walked over to her, talking for a few minutes before walking back to the couches, a confused look on his face. “Well, what’d she say?” You asked as the group leaned in closer. Theo shook his head, “She said my head was full of Wrackspurts and that I should see Madam Pomfry tomorrow.” You all burst out laughing. You thought Luna was nice and she meant well, but you couldn’t deny how odd she truly was.

The game continued as such, dares being thrown out, truths being avoided. It seemed like any time it was Draco’s turn he would always choose the shot versus a truth or even a dare, which he normally loves. When he began leaning forward, resting his chin on the top of your head, you knew it was time to get him to bed. You softly pushed him off you before standing up and extending your hand to him, “C’mon Drunko Malfoy, you’re going to bed.” He made no arguments, standing up and draping an arm over your shoulder for you to lead him.

Pansy shot you a look but you did your best to ignore her. You heard the others continue with the game as you lead Draco up the stairs and down the hall to his and the boys room. Draco had a growth spurt between fourth and fifth year, making your height difference even more dramatic than it was, and making this walk more difficult than it should have been. You flicked your wand to unlock and open his door before flopping the large boy down on his bed.

You pulled off his shoes as he attempted to pull off his shirt. Your cheeks tinted a slight pink at the sight of his bare chest, his skin like porcelain in the moonlight from the window. You pulled back the top half of his duvet and attempted to make him lay down. “No,” he mumbled shaking his head. “C’mon, Dray, you need to go to sleep. You’re practically sleeping sitting up right now.” He shook his head again, eyes closed as he mumbled, “Can’t sleep with pants on. Belt too hard, help me y/n/n.” He reached out, grabbing your wrists and bringing them to his waist.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you slowly undid his belt for him before he pushed his trousers down, leaving him in silk black boxers. Your face was on fire and you were thankful that Draco’s vision was probably half blurry at this point. He finally tucked his legs under the duvet and you covered him up. “Sleep good, Draco,” you whispered, kissing his temple. You knew you shouldn’t have but you couldn’t help it, besides he wouldn’t remember tomorrow right?

As you turned to leave, Draco’s hand shot out from under the blanket, grabbing your wrist, “Don’t go.” He said it so softly, almost like a child begging. “Lay with me, please, y/n/n.” Your heart wouldn’t let you deny him, so you nodded, “Okay, Draco.” You grabbed a t-shirt from his trunk, slipping your party dress and heals off and throwing his shirt over your bra and panties. It hung on your thighs lower than your dress did that night.

You climbed into bed next to him, laying on your back, hands behind your head. You looked over at Draco. His eyes were closed so you assumed he was sleeping until he spoke up. “I’ve been having nightmares all summer, I don’t wanna do what they want me to do.” You furrowed your brows in confusion, “What do they want you to do? Who’s they?” His eyes opened, they were still glossed over from being drunk, but tears were brimming the edges. “You don’t have to talk about it right now, Dray, I’m sorry. C’mere,” you pulled his face into your chest as he sniffled slightly. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you even closer, hooking your leg over his hip like he was trying to melt into you.

You lightly scratched his back until his breathing evened out. You listened for a few moments, making sure he was fully asleep. After about ten minutes you attempted to roll him off you so you could go to your own room, not knowing how Draco would feel waking up sober, hungover and you in his bed. However when you tried to pull his arm off you Draco’s grip only got tighter. You sighed, not totally hating your predicament.

You closed your eyes, feeling exhausted, eventually falling asleep yourself. You awoke to what felt like your sides being tickled, not purposely but like someone was lightly dragging their fingers up and down your skin. Your eyes fluttered open, you looked down to see Draco awake, his hand tracing the lines of your side, disappearing beneath his shirt and back absentmindedly. “Good morning,” you spoke softly.

Draco jumped slightly at your voice, sitting up in his bed, “Oh, I’m sorry, y/n, I didn’t mean to wake you.” You sat up again his head board, “S’okay, Draco. How did you sleep? Any nightmares last night?” His face dropped, “I told you about those?” You nodded sleepily, “You didn’t tell me what about, and I didn’t push, don’t worry.” He nodded his head, shoulders relaxing a bit before admitting, “That was honestly the best I’ve slept in months.” You smiled widely, “Well I’m glad I could help.” Your heart was beaming, you couldn’t wait to tell Pansy. Draco ran his hand through his hair, “You might have to sleep over every night now, yannow, if you’re okay with that. We do have very important exams at the end of the year and I need to make sure I’m well rested.” You laughed nervously, though you hope it didn’t show, “I think we can definitely make arrangements.”

[ruiniel]

This storm

I. Even for you

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen | Rating: 🔞| Geto Suguru x fem!Reader | Count: 3.5K | Summary: A night after a difficult mission... | On AO3 | Tags & Warnings: my first fic for JJK, fem!reader, Second Person POV, Geto didn't defect AU, But still has it rough, Set four years after Hidden Inventory, Friends with some benefits, It’s complicated, Light angst, Feels, Needy!Geto, Dom energy!Geto, Smut, Vaginal sex, Oral sex (f receiving)

The clock startles you, eyes drawn from your reading towards the brief robotic sound. The numbers flicker red against black, heralding midnight. 

With a sigh you close the book and rise, walking to the window instead. The downpour has been ongoing for hours now, and water flows down the glass like tears. 

Cold. The city is cold and dark, a flood of souls and living blood. Neon lights flash in jittery repetition like an irregular pulse, reflected by a veiny system of wet roads: red, blue, red, blue. 

Worry binds your heart, and thoughts roil like wind. Where is he? You had a day off (a luxury rarely afforded in the world you both share) but your friend’s work is out there in the frontlines. Always gone, always alone lately. Sometimes, you land a mission together where you do your part as an auxiliary manager, but those are few and far between. 

You won't call, it’s a given. Any disruptions could lead to injury or worse, and even the thought of him being harmed brings anxiety like a weight forcing your airways shut. He’s your friend, more so the first person who helped guide you when you first reached Tokyo, so patient, laid back and generous with his time. The affinity was instant and mutual, and a couple of years later here you are, sharing a rent. You learned many things about Suguru Geto since then, some wonderful, some worrying—such as his tendency to drive himself into the ground for his vocation. But in the end, he is only human, isn't he? 

Your thoughts are cut by the familiar, metallic click and turn of a key. The door to the apartment opens, and the newcomer eases inside. 

“Suguru…” you turn, watching his tall figure for anything amiss. His movements are sluggish, his gaze unfocused. It’s been one of those missions, then. 

Suguru raises his head at your voice, the blank expression losing to a fickle smile. “Hey.” He’s drenched by the rain: his hair, his uniform, his skin. “How was your day off?” he asks, propping a hand against the wall and kicking off his shoes. 

“It was... it was fine.” 

It must’ve been a difficult exorcism, you think, as he goes and slumps into a kitchen chair. 

You sit across from him, leaning forward with your elbows resting on the table between you. He looks exhausted, his complexion sickly, as though he’s had poison and is living through the worst of it. It’s not the first time you’ve seen it, nor will it be the last. 

The rain patters against the windows, filling the silence. Suguru hangs his head, rubs at his right eye, and carelessly undoes the uniform button at his chest before shrugging the entire thing off and hanging it on the back of the chair. 

“I suppose I shouldn’t ask…” you try, watching him roll up the sleeves of his shirt. You want to know what kind of special grade he dealt with, but you can't get yourself to do it: it’s on his face, the bags under his eyes, the tension in his body. He looks like he’s about to be nauseous. No, talking about it won't help, not now.

Suguru shakes his head. Silently he reaches for a pack of cigarettes and stands. You follow him out on the small balcony, both leaning against the rail. The rain stopped for a reprieve, and the sounds of wheels turning on wet asphalt reach you from the streets below. 

Suguru lights a cigarette, staring ahead. On the first exhale of smoke it looks as though he wants to spit his lungs out. You know how it goes by now: his cursed spirit manipulation technique leaves him with an aftermath few could bear or live with for long, but still, he does it. If there's anything Suguru has, it's strong principles and an immutable conviction as far as his role in this world goes. 

His silence, in any other context, would feel comfortable. But now his jaw is tight, and he’s crossed his arms at his chest as if straining to keep all the curses he’s absorbed from breaking free. 

All you can do is reach out, fingers smoothing his dark hair away from his face; a stunted motion, but one you couldn’t resist. 

Suguru sketches no reaction to your touch at first. He takes another drag of his cigarette and looks over, holding your gaze. Your stomach flips, a meld of relief and care rushing through you and coiling around your ribs like wildflowers. You wonder at this renewed sense of hope as your touch glides down his cheek, wiping away a droplet of gore.  

“It feels as if it’s all too much these days…” you murmur, “even for you.”

Suguru smiles again, once a confident grin—now a heartbreaking display when contrasting with his state. Sometimes, in recent months, you’d see an odd light in his stare, like a spark ready to ignite a sea of flames; but it only lingers for a moment before it dies, and he’s back to the one you know. 

“It is. But… you’re here.” His eyes close as he leans into your palm, nuzzling against it, the brush of his skin like warm silk.

You swallow. Sometimes he makes these small gestures that hide a greater meaning, it’s who he is. You like to think you’re used to it by now. “Suguru, are you all righ—”

“Help me.” His words are a warm, rushed whisper against your hand. You know what it means, you know it helps him on a physical level to recuperate. You’re friends, both very aware of the other in many ways: qualities, needs, and sometimes, sometimes… you oblige each other.

And you did miss him, the anticipation pooling to your core an irrefutable proof. 

Suguru draws back, catlike eyes opening. His lips part as he puts out the unfinished cigarette, a tremble to his fingers. “I need a shower.” 

You can’t but smile and chew on your lip as he passes you, his hand grazing the small of your back. “Wait for me?”

“Where would I go?” you tease, your voice only a little choked. 

Selfish? Yes, you most certainly are. Suguru is kind, and possibly the most courteous person you’ve met among your peers, and he’d do anything for the people he cares about. When you first spoke of what developed from your friendship, you agreed to keep things open, not least because your occupations didn’t allow for much more.

Distance means safety. Distance means less pressure. But, there’s a flip side to everything and deep inside you wonder—would anyone else, apart from Satoru maybe, be able to remain by his side for as long as you both have?

The answer doesn't matter, does it? 

You stare ahead at the city, not slowing for a moment despite the hour. Wetness splashes your face, and faraway thunder signals a renewed pour. Rain falls, slower this time, reluctant little drops that induce a near catatonic state of mind, and you barely feel arms wrapping around your middle from behind.

“Hi again,” you murmur as Suguru buries his face against your neck; the softness of lips on your skin follows. 

“Hi,” he says, hugging you tighter and pressing a kiss to your jaw. His hands feel heavy on your body, one sliding down your thigh while the other reaches up to your ribs, ghosting the side of a breast.

You have to admit, whatever lies you tell yourself, your body will always deny it through the swift, unruly reactions to his closeness. You missed him, and now… now you want him in ways that make your head spin. Base. Primal. 

The hand on your thigh drifts inward and up, up, up. His chest heaves against your back, and his grip on you is tighter when he reaches the warmth between your legs. “May I?” he asks into your skin. 

You nod. You feel his smile against your neck as his hand grips you, massaging the hot center through your nightgown.  

You huff a short breath; he sighs. “You’re so… warm…” he squeezes gently, his long hand arched and slowly moving back and forth between your legs. You grasp his other arm, your knees already useless. 

The rain is cold, his mouth is warm. His hair is loose and still wet from the shower, dripping down your collarbone as he tilts your chin to the side, and presses his lips to yours. 

Suguru tastes good. He’s always tasted better than anyone you recall, deepening the kiss faster than you can react, the hand between your legs drawing your hips against his. 

“… you're so…” his fingers never stopped teasing your slit through your clothes, and he’s hardening against your ass as he speaks, “...delicious,” he says, sucking harshly on your lower lip before melding his mouth to yours. 

You can barely get an intake of breath, and as good as this feels, you're both getting pelted by the rain now.

Not that he cares: one hand holding you by the jaw and the other weakening you, he feels overwhelming, so much so that it hurts a little as you break the kiss. “Suguru, the rain…”

“Yes, you’re right,” he mumbles, still nipping and licking at your lips, “Of course, of course, you’re right…” and with that he all but drags you after him as you are, never releasing you. 

You reach the one room with a double bed—usually yours to sleep in—where he throws you down, following and dragging you under him, pausing for a moment to stare at you. He’s wearing nothing but loose dark pants, and your eyes are drawn to the ragged cross of scars lining his chest. Unable to resist, you trace one with your finger, then rise and kiss along it as he holds the back of your head. 

“You… I’m so… glad you’re here, I’m…” he doesn't continue, instead pushing you down by the shoulders and hastily sliding your nightgown up your thighs with both hands. There’s an urgency to each movement, to each kiss down your sensitive inner thigh, his head dipping lower and lower, his breath hot and eyes half-lidded as he looks up at you briefly while gently pulling aside your panties. 

Your lower body shivers with need, the sight alone throwing you in a daze—he’s good at this, you know he is, and he—

All following thoughts disperse and your mind empties when he runs his tongue along your slit in a slow, hot, languid stripe. 

“Oh god…” he says against your cunt, his hands on your inner thighs keeping them spread as he licks you again.

You clutch at the sheet, your fingers finding purchase in his hair when he sucks on your clit with the softest insistence. His eyes are closed, a furrow to his brow that you’d mistake for concentration if it weren't for the needy sounds slipping from his lips as he takes you slowly, again and again, like he’d been thirsty for this all his days. 

You're at a breaking point, thighs trembling beneath the pressure of his soothing hands, your mouth watering in pleasure at the sight and sensation of his pink tongue circling your clit, and all you can articulate is his name.

“Mm?” He doesn't even look up, still eating you out with maddening compulsion, sucking on your pussy lips before licking between them, up your clit and down to your hole, slipping his hardened tongue inside and urging your hips to move against his mouth. 

“I-I’m going to…” A stutter of muscles, then another, and he won't stop but keeps eating you out like he's in his own dream, urging you on with his eyes closed. 

“Please, come on… for me, will you…? You taste so good, so-so-good, did I ever tell you that? If not I’m… an idiot-your scent-your—...”

You can't hear the rest over the waves of a sudden high, nerves suffused with pleasure and the deepest relief you’ve ever felt. He breathes against your quivering cunt as your fingers lazily card through his hair. When he looks up at you again, his eyes are feverish, his lips aglow with your shine. He crawls up to you like a stalking feline pulling down his pants and reaching for a bedside drawer at the same time. “Where… did you have those…”

“It’s fine,” you urge him back down. “On the pill for a while now.”

He watches you for a moment, then leans in for a slow, open-mouthed kiss. His erection is pressed against your pussy, his forearms on either side of your head, his hands caressing your temples. 

He’s heavy against you but it’s that pleasant heaviness that goes with a craving to be consumed and just as you think this Suguru severs the kiss, rising to his knees. “Off. Take it off,” he says, his voice low and breathy as he slides his pants down his hips.

You don't even get to comply before he’s yanking your garments off himself, unveiling your body with jerked, impatient movements. “Much better…” he says, and for a moment you see it—that light in his eyes, the spark that both scares and thrills. But you’re easily distracted by the sight and sound of him pumping his cock as he stares at you so hungrily, as he drags you by the hip towards him and grabs you by one ankle, resting your leg over his shoulder. 

It strikes you how attractive the sight of him is, and you make sure to capture the memory: the slight crease between his eyebrows and the deepened flush across his cheekbones, his disheveled inky hair, the parted lips as he rubs the wet tip of his thick erection against your slit. The way the muscles in his abdomen tense and soft, barely audible moans leave him with each stroke. “Ready?” he asks but doesn't wait for an answer and you grit your teeth, watching the head of his cock disappear inside your body. “Good girl… just a little more, you can take me…”

“Suguru wait, it’s—” you cry out at the sudden thrust, your back arching off the bed.

He clamps a hand over your mouth, pressing down with his weight as you cry out against his palm. “… all in, it’s fine. I told you, like last time…”  

But last time it wasn't quite like this. Last time was a slow, tender affair full of exploration. This feels like an impending storm and he feels different too, but, at the same time, you find that you enjoy it. You wonder if it shows on your face despite your words.

He sank inside you to the hilt but now doesn't move, locking eyes with you. He’s biting down on his lip and his cock twitches inside your cunt, once, twice, a delicious feeling that makes you involuntarily tilt your hips upward. He’s aware enough to see it in your eyes, in the way your tongue peeks out to lick at the inside of his palm. 

Suguru smiles—there it is, that fox-like grin, a little tired but reminiscent of better, brighter days. Affection melts into the urgent need for him as he removes his hand from your mouth and slinks out of you slowly, torturously slow, until the thick head barely grazes your soaked pussy. 

Your vision sways when the sudden thrust slams right back into you. “God...”

“I know…” he gasps, his fingers digging into your hip bone, his other hand grasping the leg still propped against his shoulder. 

Another thrust leaves you dizzy, the angling of his hips changing as he leans forward, pressing more of his body weight onto you, and then—

He knows rhythm, he’s always had an innate understanding and empathy toward others, down to every level of their being. And now that sense of his must be at work because his pace is a lascivious crescendo, the long drags of his cock inside you harder and faster and just how you like them, his chest rising and falling shaken by his labored breathing. His eyes catch your stare, clouded with pleasure from the incessant, decadent ebb and flow. 

He fucks into you faster, until his skin is sleek with sheen and you're moaning helplessly from this sweet, merciless intrusion. In truth, you never have time, never enough energy to invest in someone else. It just comes with the territory, with the way of life most people would never understand. “Suguru,” you coo, and at the silent question in his eyes you add: “Harder…”

A huff of laughter escapes him and he wastes no time pulling out—you feel the loss immediately, a whimper your protest, but it’s short-lived as he turns you over. “On your knees.” 

You comply, rising to all fours in a breath. A slap to your ass nearly has you tumbling forward on the bed but the firm grasp on your hips won't allow it. He pulls you right back onto his cock, moaning softly as you involuntarily clench and squeeze, telling you how tight you are, how fine and slick you feel, all the while placing warm, shallow kisses along your spine. 

And then the world tilts sideways. You can hear nothing but the slap of his hips, feel nothing but the building rush inside as he pumps into you with vicious strength, pushing into you at a pace that has you quivering and crying out.

“Harder? Is that what you said?...” he asks, but there’s no trace of teasing or humor in his tone as he fucks you deeper, and the more you struggle the more bruising his hold on you becomes. 

You barely avoid biting on your tongue as your body shakes from his pitiless moves until you can’t take it anymore: your arms give way, and you fall over. 

“S-Suguru...” 

He keeps going, ramming you into the bed, sucking on your ear as you lie there and take it and take it and take it. For how long? 

“SUGURU—”

All you feel is the cleaving pleasure of an exquisite orgasm, a coil unwinding where your bodies are joined to spread like heavenly vines through your body. 

He flips you over at the same time, entering you and going completely still; his arms wind around you in a hot embrace. “I love… I love it when you do that…” he whispers against your neck, enjoying the uncontrollable spasming of your cunt around him. 

As you come down he picks up the pace again; your legs cross around his torso, your heels touching the small of his back. 

“That’s right…” you sigh as he groans into your neck, “Use me… use me…” 

“What?... Say that again... please.” His voice is pleading now, in direct opposition to the ruthless treatment from moments before. 

“I want you… to use me, Suguru,” you repeat, and oh how you mean it. He feels even deeper now, raising his head, your lips barely touching as he moves. “Use me! Use me-use me-god-fuck…” because he’s doing just that, moaning against your mouth as your hands come fisted in his hair and you pull. His movement is erratic, rhythm and all failing before successive, incessant, desperate pounding, so deep it hurts and—

His hips stutter once, twice, and he clutches at you fiercely when warmth floods your cunt, hot cum spurting as he keeps you trapped beneath him until you’re full of it. 

You lie there, chest to chest, breathing each other’s air. Your fingers ease the grip on his hair. When he tries to move, your hands press down onto the hard muscle of his ass. “Stay inside me for a while longer?...”

His amber eyes soften; you can feel his heart beating against your chest as though it wants to burst free of its own cage. Suguru doesn’t answer but tilts you both to the side, an arm wound around your middle, the other on the thigh draped over his hip, keeping you entangled. 

You’re spent, all the life force drained from your body, while he looks as though he’s run a marathon without pause: face flushed, muscles gleaming, tense and warm against your softness. His honeyed irises are brighter.

“Did it help?...” you ask, tucking yourself against his chest. The distant roll of thunder returns outside.

“Help?… Oh, yes, absolutely yes, of course. But…” he pauses, like the times he does when mulling over the right words. A trace returns of the Suguru you know most of the time: the gentle, responsible one. He’s usually so selfless and kind, that one would be hard-pressed to believe he’s caused the bruises currently forming on your hips.  

“But?” you ask, barely able to stay awake now; he’s so, so warm, and so close, and your mind can barely process coherent thoughts.

“I…”

You never hear the rest, drifting away, light and content as a leaf wayworn by the wind. Tomorrow… all else can wait until tomorrow.

II >

[laurbiek]

HEY! If you're still taking requests, could you write something with tipsy Andrew and him being all amused and clingy and handsy with his lover? 🥺🥺

do you guys know the feeling when its 11:30 on a Sunday and you have class tomorrow morning but your suddenly inspired to start writing again after like 9 months so you have to start immediately even though you should maybe go to bed or study for any of the tests you have this week

anyway here's wonderwall

Now that it was socially acceptable to be out in public again, Andy frequented local bars and pubs with his friends. He would go out with Alex, meet his brother for drinks, sometimes even invite Aisling out into the country to hang out for the night. Sometimes you joined him, sometimes you didn't.

He liked it better when you joined them, getting to watch you relax and laugh at some dumb joke. Watching your blush get deeper and deeper, and peeling off a jacket or a sweater as the heat of the alcohol consumed you.

Occasionally you two would split something more illicit, something rolled or baked that Andrew's brother would obtain for him. Your whole party laughing together at the fire pit in your backyard, talking about ordering food but ever actually doing it.

Tonight was not one of those nights.

Work was getting busy, and you felt too tired for a night out, even if it was just a local pub in the small hamlet you two chose to live in. You knew you were just too wired up, too stressed to meet friends without passing the bad feelings on, without snapping at someone or getting sad-drunk and killing the vibe. So you opted to stay home, watching some bad TV with a large glass of wine, and throwing tennis balls around the house for Elwood to retrieve.

Externally, Andrew didn't mind. He knew everyone needed 'me time', he knew he would have fun anyway. He knew he didn't want to be the kind of couple that were inseparable, that cant exist without the other person, like two stars that orbit each other and ignore the rest.

But sometimes it feels impossible to talk about anything else, sometimes he felt the need to tattoo your name on his forehead just to be able to bring you up in conversation. Love is almost a form of obsession, and for Andrew it can be occasionally difficult to hide.

Especially after a pint or two, and some glasses of whisky if he's being honest.

Andrew reached into his pocket for his keys, feeling around for the sharp metal he hoped and prayed he remembered to bring that night. He heard a slightly more sober Alex lock his car behind him, deciding that he could spend the night in one of the guest rooms instead of slugging it back to Dublin at one in the morning. He finally shoves the key into the lock, tuning it in a way so domestic and familiar it makes his heart leap.

The two trudge into the warm house, and toe their shoes off in the hallway before stomping into the living room with heavy, reckless feet. You tilt your head back on the sectional armrest, seeing them coming closer upside down.

"Hey guys, have enough fun?" you just, Alex flopping down on the other side of the couch, and Andrew leaning down farther than usual to peck you on the lips.

"It was grand love, lots of mischief made", He walks around, sitting in between his fried and his lover, looking up to see some reality TV nonsense playing with the captions on. He turns his body towards yours, leaning his head on his arm and staring down at you like you hung the stars, "I missed you though"

"Andy you were ten minutes away, I don't know how you managed to miss me"

He grabs you by the waist and pulls you closer, almost in his lap. His large hands feel slightly cold as they hold your skin under the borrowed t-shirt you wore to relax in that night. He leans up to kiss your neck, and his facial hair, as always, tickles slightly.

"You must have some kind of spell on me, something sinister and ugly to keep me enamored" he says, voice muffled by your body.

You roll your eyes at Alex, who is barely paying attention to his very whipped friend, instead leaning towards the coffee table to pick at the snacks you brought out for yourself. You share a look of agreement, silently saying 'this guy is a fool'. You grab Andrew's face and pull it up to make eye contact with yourself,

"Yeah I couldn't possibly get this ring without outside help", you say. Andrew makes a light laugh at that, simply breathing out and smiling. You notice his eyes starting to flutter a bit more, obviously getting tired. You pull away from Andrew and get yourself up, "Ok Loverboy, its time for bed, Alex you know where everything is help yourself", he nods and gives a thumbs up as a response, wrist deep in a bag of Cheese and Onion Taytos.

You grab Andrew's hand and pull on it, urging him to get his ass to bed. He groans slightly as he rises, jokingly adding an "Ok mistress" as he grabs your hand back and follows you up the stairs.

Once you both reach your shared bedroom, Andrew sits on the bed and takes his socks off, forgetting what he wanted to do next. He watches as Elwood does his little circles in his dog bed, he thinks that humans should be able to do something similar. You pop out of the attached bathroom, having washed your face and tied your hair up. Andrew reaches his arms out like a child towards you, silently asking for some physical contact. You slip in between them, holding his head against your chest and placing a kiss on top of it. His hands wrap around you tightly. He wishes he could've stayed here all night. You pull away and he makes a complaining groan,

"Calm down we can cuddle all night, let me help you with your hair."

You kneel behind his seated form, becoming just tall enough to gather his hair into a uniform pony and secure it away so he doesn't mess it up during the night. He thoroughly enjoys the feeling of your fingers in his hair, he recalls the feeling of you pulling it tighter, in a different context of course. He smiles slightly at the memory. You kiss the top of his head again, letting him know you were done.

Against his desires, he plods into the bathroom to brush his teeth, accident leaving the balled up socks from earlier on the counter. He, as quickly as he can, puts on something more comfortable, with way fewer buttons, and dramatically flops into bed.

You lay facing each other, first just holding hands, but as the minutes progress he pulls you closer and closer until your legs are wrapped around his hips and his arms are keeping you there, your foreheads are touching. You couldn't possibly be closer if you tried.

"What if we were conjoined and had to be like this forever"

"Andrew I cannot do this right now go to sleep"

"No seriously what if?!"

After a few more tipsy comments from Andrew, and lightly chastising him for his wandering hands, you finally turn over. If he is known for anything other than music, it should be his ability to be the big spoon. He completely envelops you, and you've never felt safer.

His hands wander under your shirt, not in a sexual way, but in a familiar one. He just wants to feel close to you, feel skin on skin like a baby looking for comfort. You can feel his nose poking into the back of your neck, and you're glad his feet are so far away because you just know they're cold.

You relish in the feeling of his touch, how in his most vulnerable and uncaring moments the most he ever wants to do is feel your warmth, know that you're there.

The last thing he remembers is the smell of your shampoo before he falls into sleep.

[sseomtada]

being [ruben dias]

a stunning revelation only drives you and ruben closer.

warnings: 18+ | wc: 6212 | 7/8

You shook off your surprise after a beat to give her a hug.

“I had to come and see you at some point.” She squeezed your shoulders. “You haven’t been back in months.”

It was difficult to not feel a bit guilty. Prior to moving to Manchester and because your office wasn’t even half an hour away from your home, you’d frequently go back to visit her. Even though things had been going pretty much nonstop in your new city, you could’ve at least made a weekend trip to drop by.

“I’m sorry, I know Jason must be driving you crazy with his antics.” You tried to joke to lighten the mood.

“Maluco…he misses you too.” Her head shook.

You wheeled the bag she’d brought along with her inside and told her to make herself comfortable. The way your blood was rushing and your heartbeat was pounding felt like you were in danger of passing out.

Your only option was to let her in. What else could you do? Be vague about the situation and tell her to come back later because you had some male company over? Judging by the looks of her, she was fresh from the airport. Also important to note was that your mom definitely expected to stay with you during however long her visit was, so she didn’t have a hotel reservation lined up either.

What would you do about Ruben? Your eyes darted to your phone on the coffee table. If you could distract her for a while, maybe you could successfully sneak him out of here without her noticing. It wouldn’t be the first time you and him had to complete such a mission.

“I’ll put on some of that tea you like.” You swiped the device and took it with you to the kitchen.

Luckily, due to your inability to have dishes lingering around, the two plates and glasses you’d used for dinner had already been thrown into the dishwasher. His shoes were also tucked into the cabinet by your doorway. What other evidence of him…

You bit down on a gasp, eyes widening to turn back to your living room. Where the fuck was his shirt? It wasn’t on the sofa where your mom was sitting as far as you could see. Though it could be tangled in the blanket at the other end. You said a silent prayer that she didn’t get too chilly and worked on brewing her tea even faster to prevent that.

In the meantime, you cracked open your phone to see that Ruben had already sent you a message.

Is that your mom…?

Yes 😭

You jumped at the sound of a faint notification pin. With a deep breath, you steeled your nerves as much as possible. If anything, she’d probably assume it was your device going off and not think anything was awry.

We’re gonna have to whip out Project Switcharoo. You remember it?

Of course, I invented it.

Despite the absolute absurdity of the situation, you managed to crack a smile. Ruben was always a respectful and upstanding person. When two teenagers were in love, though, it was hard to accept things like not having boys in your room after dark.

He came up with a plan that was like the classic method of pickpocketing - a bait and switch scenario. For tonight’s occasion, it would look something like this. While she was occupied, he would sneak his way up to your guest bathroom to clear out the bedroom. You’d then take her to your room to show her around, pulling her to the window where the doorway wasn’t visible and allowing him to swiftly make a break for it.

Don’t forget to fix the bed.

Got it. What about my shirt?

You might have to steal one of my hoodies.

The kettle whistled, starting the timer on your mission. Once the tea was fixed and he saw you cross over from the kitchen to the living room, he’d start making his way to phase one. You did up her cup just the way she liked it, took another steadying breath and made your way over.

“You usually hate taking night flights, why didn’t you come earlier?” Your hands shook slightly as you handed her the beverage.

She took a slow sip of her tea, gaze not meeting yours. The fine hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Having lived with your mom for most of your life, you could automatically tell when something was off.

From you saw her at the door and she didn’t greet you half as excitedly as she did on phone calls, you felt it. You tried to battle that notion by rationalizing that you were being extra paranoid because she’d shown up during literally the last moment you’d want her to. It was impossible to ignore now, especially given how long she was taking to answer your question.

“Is everything okay?” You could feel your throat swelling.

“That’s what I came to ask you.” She finally spoke.

Your mom sighed and rested the cup of tea onto the side table. She reached into her purse to pull out her phone. This wasn’t an impromptu drop by driven by your extended absence after all. You knew what it was - an intervention.

Her screen lit up your view as she slid the device onto your lap. There was a screenshot of an Instagram post and in it was a photo of you and Ruben. It was taken on the night of the Nike launch party. You flipped to the next image in her folder. Someone with crazy zoom had caught you two walking towards his car at City’s training grounds.

There were no words. Your mind first went to the conversation Ruben and you had earlier about how much media attention he got, the fact that there was already news out there concerning you two. It was unnerving to actually be staring at the proof of that.

Then came the guilt. The last thing you wanted was for her to find out through the grapevine that you were back together with him. Whether she’d come across it by chance, was sent the post or actively went looking for it didn’t matter. You should’ve been the one to break the news.

And lastly, fear. Her flying out here as soon as she found out meant that she was absolutely not pleased and potentially worried about the state of your mental health. She couldn’t be blamed for that. Any mother that saw their daughter go through what you did after the breakup would have the same reaction to seeing you with the man that put you there.

“Ruben and I are dating again.” You admitted. “We talked it over and decided to give things a chance.”

Your mom scoffed. “See, this is why I had to come. Do you hear yourself? You’re, what, dating him? After everything he put you through?”

Although you anticipated her being upset, you didn’t expect the backlash to be this severe. It honestly took you by surprise. You gave her back her phone and stood, needing some distance from the anger she was radiating.

“I don’t expect you to be happy about it. All I ask is that you trust me and my decision, and not belittle either.” Your voice was even despite everything you felt.

She spoke to you as if you were some thoughtless, naive child. God knows you didn’t just take him back without considering every outcome, especially the worse case scenario. If shit went badly between you two again, you were ready to take accountability.

“I do trust you.” Her tone was less combative. “But do I trust your decision? I can’t…you’ve never been able to think straight when it came to that boy.”

It felt like you’d been punched in the gut. You didn’t think it was unreasonable of you to ask for her not to act as if you were being trivial. The fact that she was speaking to you like you were still the same person that you were seven years ago was hurtful, and quite frankly, insulting.

“My mind is as clear as it’s ever been.” You sighed, growing resigned with this conversation.

She wasn’t though, “No, it isn’t. If you had any common sense left, you wouldn’t be caught dead with him!”

“Mom-“ Your gasp was cut short.

With the unexpected, heated exchange, you’d forgotten all about Ruben still being in the apartment. That was until he made his was out of hiding, clearly having overheard it all. Thankfully he had found your pile of oversized hoodies to cover up. You didn’t know how many more insults you could take tonight.

“I’m sorry.” Ruben made his presence known. “We - I should’ve reached out to you first.”

Your mom spun slowly to look at him. It was a searing, scrutinizing leer that even had you shivering. You’d never seen her take in anyone that way. To his credit, he didn’t cower beneath her glare. He looked like he was ready to accept whatever vitriol she had for him.

“This is exactly what I mean.” She laughed ruefully, pointing between you two.

You were about to tell her to stop when he shook his head.

“Was this your plan all along?” Her question was directed at him. “Were you lying when you promised me you’d-“

Ruben’s eyes were wide with shock and…something you couldn’t quite place. It appeared to be worry, but not for himself. The way she stopped short of her barrage didn’t sit well with you either.

You watched as they seemed to have some nonverbal exchange. At that point, it became obvious that something had happened between them. Something you didn’t know about. Did she confront him after the break up? What promise was she talking about?

“What’s going on?” You asked Ruben directly.

He became a man that was visibly torn, eyes darting between yours and your mom’s. The decision of whether or not he should say anything weighed heavy on his conscience.

You turned to her instead, “Mom, what are you talking about?”

Instead of being met with all the fire you faced before, she bore a similar downcast demeanor as him. Her head hung as she placed her hands to her waist. It was a telltale sign that whatever you were about to find out wasn’t going to look good on her part.

“I’ll leave you two to talk.” Ruben made his way to leave. “When you’re ready, call me.”

Your head was spinning with how much had happened in such a short period of time. How did your night go from tickle fights, to cooking up an escape plan and now to being on the verge of hearing about a conversation kept hidden from you for nearly a decade?

She sat back down on the sofa, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do the same. Instead, you found yourself pacing back and forth while your mom quietly worked through whatever was eating away at her.

“Please just…tell me.” You couldn’t stomach the silence anymore.

Her voice was barely audible as she finally confessed, “The reason Ruben broke up with you is because I asked him to.”

september 15th 2017

Ruben

He was brimming with excitement. All of the sacrifices he’d made, every second of commitment, it was all coming into fruition. His coach told him after practice that he was going to debut for the first team during the match tomorrow.

The first person he wanted to tell was you. You’d been by his side since the literal beginning, when his dream of becoming a footballer was just that - a fantasy. Having you in his life made a journey that broke so many others more than tolerable. He trained and played with your support always at the forefront of his mind.

Ruben bounded his way up the steps to your place and stopped short. Your mom stood with her back facing him, a trail of smoke floating into the air. That was new. Or maybe it was an old habit she indulged in from time to time. When she became aware of being there, the cigarette landed under her shoe.

“I’ve been caught,” Her teeth flashed. “Don’t tell Y/N.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” His fingers zipped across his lips.

She nodded in appreciation. There was clearly something on her mind. He knew that life hadn’t been the easiest for her or you and couldn’t imagine how lonely it must’ve been sometimes. That was why he made himself available to help out as much as he could’ve, if only to lessen the burdens a bit.

“Does she ever talk about her father?” The question she asked confirmed his suspicion.

You never brought him up, in fact. Given that, he didn’t feel as if it was his place to pry. Ruben had heard through the grapevine of neighborhood gossips about his absence and how you didn’t even know who he was.

“She doesn’t.” He replied.

Your mom looked up at the sky, “That’s understandable. You see…”

Ruben found himself listening to the missing pieces that not even you knew. She told him about how they’d met when she was sixteen and that she immediately fell for him - a young, budding football star.

It wasn’t because she was getting attention from someone so coveted, but because he actually saw her the way she’d always craved to be seen. So when he moved to a new team in another country to further pursue his career, she followed along.

She left everything behind. Her family, friends and education. Her dream became seeing his come true. When it did, they were both in the happiest stage of their relationship. And then at nineteen, she found out that she was pregnant with you.

The life she wanted was all coming into place. She thought the next step would be welcoming their baby, getting married and maybe having a few more to fill up their home. What she got instead was abandonment. He didn’t want any of that, or you.

Her parents had warned her that it would happen, but she casted their concerns aside as unfair judgment on his part. They didn’t see her like he did. Moving back in with them after what had happened wasn’t possible given the way they’d left things.

“I see so much of myself in her.” Your mom smiled. “She looks at you the same way I used to look at her dad.” Ruben understood why she was telling him all of this. It was obvious that she was scared you were following the same path and would end up in the same predicament. He didn’t take any offense to her perhaps believing that he was capable of doing the same thing.

“I love her, a lot.” His cheeks rose quickly. “More than I ever knew was possible.”

When he used to think about love, he always tried to rationalize it - to make it make sense. It was only after he realized that he felt that towards you that he came to know the emotion was something that couldn’t be explained. Even saying those words didn’t feel like enough to encompass the spectrum of moments that all combined to make him experience what could only be verbally express in such a limited capacity.

“That’s good because it means you’ll do anything for her.” She nodded.

“Yeah, I would.” He breathed. See, where was the rationale behind something like that?

“I need you to break up with her. She’s too dependent on you and it’ll ruin her in the long run.”

If words could render him speechless and knock him off his feet, those were the ones that would be able to do so. He couldn’t quite believe that was what she said at first. His mind instantly went into denial mode, because surely she was joking. When he stared back at unflinching eyes, he knew that she was being dead serious.

“I…can’t do that, respectfully.” Ruben shook his head.

You might see him in a light that sometimes is admittedly pressuring, making him wonder if he could live up to be that man you painted him out to be in your mind. That didn’t worry him though. If anything, he wanted to keep trying to prove to himself, and you, that he could be.

Beside that, you were strong in your own right. He’d never met anyone who took advantage of every little opportunity they received and made the most out of them. Even in your darkest moments, he saw the determination in you to not want to quit. You inspired him.

“I’m not going to stand by and watch her destroy herself like I did. You’re the only one who can prevent that.” He saw that same persistence in the gaze he got. “The choice is yours. Will it be you or me?”

Ruben thought he understood what this conversation was about in the beginning, but he’d read it all wrong. He only now grasped that she was giving him an ultimatum of sorts. One where there was no real decision for him to make, it was a catch 22.

If he didn’t break up with you, then your mom would abandon you just like your father did to you both. He would have to live with knowing that he was the reason why you had no blood ties left in your life, a notion that was breaking him even in hypotheticals.

Since he quickly realized that he had no choice, he began to reframe it in a way that didn’t hurt as much. The only loser in this situation would be him. You’d be hurt at first, maybe devastated, but you’d have people around you to help you through it. He would just have to figure out a way to deal with his own pain, perhaps starting with taking solace in knowing that he didn’t rob you of your only family.

“Promise me you’ll do the right thing.” Your mom looked back at him as she approached the door.

She lingered there until the words begrudgingly left his lips, “I promise.”

o presente

Everything burned.

Your eyes and nose, your heart itself. Sure, you’d experienced heartbreak before but it was child’s play compared to what was wreaking havoc in your soul - betrayal. Never in a million years did you ever expect the reason behind your breakup to be your own mother.

The person sitting in front of you crying tears of her own was a foreign entity. You failed to recognize the woman that baked you cakes, taught you dance routines and held you at your lowest.

How could she do that to you? Did she think that forcing Ruben to do something so cruel was the way to express the deep love she supposedly had for you? Or was it some fucked up trauma response to the past she never dealt with?

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Your mom sniffed. “I regret all the pain I caused because of that night.”

What you were going through now felt a thousand, a million times worse than then. There was no denial to turn to for even a second of hope. This ugly, soul crushing truth bared its jagged teeth and was ripping away your flesh.

“It shouldn’t have happened, but I can’t take it back.” She continued. “All I could’ve done was to be there for you to help you through it, praying that you came out stronger and you did.”

“Are you serious? How could you even think that was right?” You sobbed.

It was all loud and clear to you. She regretted putting you through hell, but she didn’t regret actually doing it. Despite watching you break down for weeks, she still believed that what she made him do somehow helped you. She wasn’t sorry that she did it, she was sorry that she got caught - that you finally found out the truth.

“I-“ You bit your lip to suppress another snivel. “I need some space. You can stay here tonight, but I want you gone tomorrow.”

The most messed up part was that saying those words hurt you even more. Even though she was the one who put you both in this situation, you felt like the bad guy for asserting a rightful boundary. Those blissful memories you had of her hadn’t suddenly evaporated into nothing.

You took your phone and keys, and left her in your apartment. An aching uncertainty hung over your head. You were unsure how long you’d need before you could even look at her again without feeling such overwhelming disappointment.

Aki’s blanket slipped from her head as soon as she took in the state of you stood in her doorway. It had to be deja vu all over for her again, how many times have you done this? Why was life continuously throwing blow after blow at your gut?

“Do you have any whiskey?” Your inquiry sprang her into action.

She shuffled over to the kitchen and brought out one of her biggest bottles along with two glasses. You didn’t have the stomach anymore for straight liquor, but you’d needed it to calm the raging sea of emotions.

Her eyes were wiped clean of any traces of slumber once she joined you on the sofa. You immediately poured two fingers and threw it back. And then doubled that.

“Woah, let’s…get to the part where you tell me what brought this on before you black out.” Aki pulled the bottle towards her.

“Seven years ago, my mother made Ruben promise he’d break up with me.” You laughed humorlessly.

It was weird watching her expression go through several shifts within the span of a few seconds. That must’ve been what you looked like from the other perspective too once you found out.

She topped up and threw back her own glass before asking you to shed light on that very stupefying statement. You filled her in starting from the pretext. All about your mom’s past and what your dad did to her.

How she told Ruben all of this on the night prior to issuing him a task so abhorrent that you still were coming to grips with fathoming it. Aki appeared to be just as woeful as you were upon the discovery.

Similar to this wound being repeatedly ripped open for you, it was for her. Your mother was like a her second one. So many days and nights were filled with the three of you laughing, dancing and crying together. She spent so much time lamenting Ruben, more than you by far, for what he’d done. And just as you were now, she felt guilty for it.

“I feel like I’ve brought so much chaos into your life and I’m sorry for it all.” You sipped the alcohol slower this time.

“Don’t do that.” Aki objected. “None of this is your fault. I’m sorry that she did this to you, Y/N. God, I can’t imagine how you feel right now.”

She pulled you in. You were so sick of crying, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Tears flowed hot and fresh, especially when you felt her own sobs racking through her body. You patted her back, lips trembling as you fought the urge to apologize again.

There was nothing to say. You were all victims of one person’s action born of insecurity. It fucking sucked, but there wasn’t much either of you could do about it now. All that was left was for you to be there for one another, to work through the pile of shit you’d been handed until you could see the ground again.

When you woke up the following day, you found that your request had been met. Your apartment was free and clear as you learned via text. Boarding my flight back. Again, I’m sorry Y/N.

You weren’t in the mood to unpack all of that again right now. The first thing you did was change into some workout clothes to head to the gym for a run. While the activity didn’t entirely clear your mind, your focus did find itself pulled more in the direction of your burning muscles than your stormy mind.

After you showered, you threw a bagel in the toaster and hopped into the shower. You forced yourself to munch on that in between massive gulps of water. The whiskey was fighting back and paired with the emotional exhaustion you felt, it was best to take the day off.

Aki and Cindy told you not to worry about work, they’d hold down the fort. You were more grateful towards them now than you’d ever been. Just don’t drink the last of my favorite coffee pods, you warned in the group chat.

You reclined onto your sofa and put on a random mix of recommended YouTube videos. No media would provide the distraction you truly needed, but it was nice to have some background noise. The cushion under your head wasn’t laying the way you wanted to, so you adjusted and felt the obstruction.

It was Ruben’s shirt. The one you had on was replaced with his before you curled up. Your mind couldn’t help but wonder what this meant now for you and him. Of course, you still wanted to be with Ruben. How did it impact him though?

He must’ve been back in that same headspace he was in when they had that exchange. Was he wondering whether or not she had issued the same choice to you after he left? Even though she didn’t and you were holding off on communicating with her for a while, you didn’t want him to think that you were giving up on a relationship with your mom because of him.

You weren’t completely shutting her out of your life, but at the current moment, you just couldn’t see how you would ever trust her again. The relationship you had with her would never be the same, and fault solely rested on her part.

You couldn’t imagine how awful this whole thing must’ve been for him. He sacrificed being with you and the way others looked at him. Even when he gave you the supposed reason he’d broken up with you, he still protected her. You wanted to be so angry at him for doing that, but it was no fairer than the order he’d received from your mom.

Ruben had never changed. He remained the person you knew that put the wellbeing of those he loved often above his own, the person who shielded them from pain - even if it meant inflicting some and becoming the one they hated. It was all so unfair to him and you refused to spend a second longer without letting him know that.

“Can I come over?” You asked after he picked up on the first ring.

“Yeah.” His voice was rough.

As soon as you crossed his threshold, you launched yourself at him and hugged him tight. He was stunned at first, but your embrace was returned with the same magnitude. You buried your face deep into his chest.

“I’m sorry.” Your tone was muted.

“Don’t apologize.” Ruben stroked your hair. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I-“

You shushed him. His response was expected, you knew that he was going to tell you not to apologize and that it wasn’t your fault but his. There was nothing he could’ve done about the situation, you didn’t blame him.

“I’m saying that because you deserve to hear it.” You looked into his eyes. “No one should have to be put through that and carry the burden of it for so long.”

Ruben didn’t fight you on that because you both know that you were right. He placed his chin on top of your head again and held you for a moment longer before he pulled you to sit down with him.

“So, you know everything?” His index finger drew circles on your knee.

You nodded, “I do.”

“Is there anything else you want to ask me?” Ruben left the door open.

A lot had actually crossed your mind while you were left reeling from the whole ordeal. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the answers to the things you needed to hear most. There was one thing though.

“What changed?” You bit your lip. “Why did you try to get me back now and not before then?”

The message he’d sent you asking if your number was still the same could’ve came a year, or two, maybe even three ago. You were curious as to what made him want to throw caution to the wind after all this time.

“I tried holding on to the promise I’d made…even when it felt like I was suffocating. It was easy, sometimes, because I justified going along with it through telling myself that I’d chosen the lesser of two evils.” Ruben expressed. “When I moved here, the distance made things somewhat bearable - knowing that there was no chance I’d run into you.”

“Until you nearly did.” A grin flashed across your face as you recalled that rainy evening.

“It all came flooding back to me then.” He smiled too. “Everything that you were to me, everything that you were supposed to be. I felt like I would go mad if I kept ignoring what you meant and still mean to me. I had to at least try.”

If this was a movie, you’d think fate was behind your reunion. Even in reality that was kind of hard to deny. What were the chances that he would see you randomly on the street, or be a part of your first project in some way? Whatever was in charge pulling the strings behind the scenes was more determined than either of you to bring you both here today.

“I’ve got to say, that was a massive gamble on your part.” You cupped his cheek.

Timing was everything. When you thought about it, had he reached out to you via message prior to you seeing him in person, you didn’t think you’d receive it well. The cards had to be played very specifically for you to end up at this moment.

“Not to me. I told you, I loved you then and I never stopped.” Ruben stroked your ear. “I love you, Y/N.”

After everything that you’d been through together, hearing him say those words impacted you on a completely different level. They’d always meant so much, but now they contained it all - the entirety of your shared history. Him choosing you from the very first day you’d met, doing the same even when it meant breaking your heart and again as he fought to get you back.

Your brows met, eyes welling as you told him, “I love you too.”

The way he kissed you struck in a whole new way as well. It was adoration unobstructed and unrestrained. His lips moving over and between yours exhibited just how free he felt with the burden of a long kept secret no longer weighing him down.

Every touch was completed with the utmost undertaking. Ruben’s hand splayed over your thighs and stomach, flattening, digging into your skin. Desperate not to miss a single inch. He removed his shirt from your frame and lied you down.

You willed your heavy eyes to stay focused on him, your fingers disappearing into his thick hair. So beautiful, he kissed your navel. So perfect, his teeth grazed your hip bone. All mine, hips lips closed around the skin of your inner thigh.

What came next left the task of keeping him in your sights impossible. Your hand pressed into the cushion, back arching as you writhed beneath his skillful mouth that claimed your cunt. He held you sturdily, one hand caressing your lower back and the other pressing down on your abdomen.

It didn’t take much for you to come undone for him. He knew every direction and angle to take with his tongue to leave you drifting away. Like the anchor he was, Ruben didn’t let you float off too far.

His body molded to yours, heat becoming your own. You always found yourself wanting him endlessly, but that compulsion was stronger than ever. Still, you forced that hunger to subside for as long as possible to indulge in all that he was.

You traced his brow with your thumb and let your finger trail down until it met his lips. The curve of them were reverently memorized to the point where you were certain that you could recreate their image in clay with uncanny accuracy.

Ruben slid a hand between your legs to make your mouth fall open with a moan. It was what he wanted, to have your tongue accessible to his. They moved in tandem that built with intensity the more you shook and whined under his digits circling your clit.

His forehead pressed to yours as he looked down the narrow gap between your bodies. You followed suit and swallowed deeply at the sight. He had you glistening, swollen with readiness while his cock twitched achingly.

When he moved to touch it, your wrist caught him. Let me, you breathed. Your fingers wrapped around his thick, firm shaft and tugged upwards. His drawn out groan floated into your mouth, a slight hiss sucking it back as you swiped your thumb over the opening in his sensitive tip.

You were losing against yourself again. Just as you could no longer force your eyes to remain open, you could no longer hold back the need to have him inside you. Your hips angled, legs spreading even wider for his body to rest flush against yours.

As soon as you’d lined him up with your entrance, his hips pressed forward. You curled one arm around his shoulder and cupped the back of his head with the next. No adjustment was necessary, you ground into him eagerly . A call that was instantly answered.

Ruben thrusted into you deep, testing his limits. When he found that there was none - your legs locking around his waist, eyes rolling back and neck baring itself to him - he withdrew until almost completely out of you and did it again. And again. And again.

Don’t stop.

You like that?

Yes, please, more…

He gave it to you just as you wished. Long, hard, unrelenting strokes that breached your cervix. Tides were moving in quickly, threatening to whisk you away for a blinding moment. You were determined to take as much as you could before they could do so.

Your legs dropped, feet digging into the sofa. You used them for momentum to bring your hips to meet his drives, cunt consuming his cock in its entirety. The point you craved to reached had finally been met - where the pleasure was so overbearing that your mind began playing tricks on you to make you believe it was a fantasy.

But you knew it was real. Even as you succumbed to the waves that dragged you under, you knew you hadn’t imagined it. The cries that ripped their way from your throat and his praises told you so. Ruben’s face buried deep into your neck and his cock twitching as it filled you let you know that you’d climbed that impossible mountain.

In the stillness that followed, you begged him to stay. Your foot ran down the back of his muscled calf and your hands massaged his back while he caged you in his strong arms. For once, there were no afterthoughts.

You didn’t catch your mind wandering off to unknowns and what ifs. A sense of peace shrouded you just like his body was. Whatever tomorrow or the distant future brought no longer filled you with worry or fear. No matter what came along, you were at ease.

All you focused on was what was going on right now. Ruben’s chest rising and falling at a steady pace that matched your own, his hips still joined to yours, the feeling of his lips forming a smile against your cheek.

That was everything you needed.

[therealjordan23]

the good girl/bad boy gwiles nobody asked for

ooo

"You shouldn't be smoking," came a pointed voice from behind him.

17 year old Miles Morales groaned, staring at the source of the curt voice: a pale, light skinned girl around his age, though much shorter, was giving him a glare. She had blonde hair split into two neat braids, ocean blue eyes, and sported a pair of gold-framed glasses. She wore the standard Visions Academy uniform: a well pressed plaid blue skirt that didn't have a single wrinkle on it, a navy knit sweater, collared shirt and tie, black leggings and black flats. She continued glaring at him, and folded her arms like a dissatisfied mother. 

He took another defiant puff. "I don't know, Gwen. You should try it. Maybe you'd loosen up for once." 

Miles on the other hand, couldn’t care less for the school’s uniform regulations. He hadn’t even wanted to attend the preppy boarding school to begin with, instead winning a lottery and passing an entry test that honestly, wasn’t that difficult. His blue blazer had several wrinkles on it, he wore a black hoodie, jeans, and his Jordans. The school should've been grateful he was even wearing their stupid blazer to begin with. 

It had been approximately one month since Gwen Stacy had transferred to Visions Academy. Her businessman father had to move to Brooklyn for work-related reasons, meaning his perfect daughter had to enrol at the best school in the city. Mr. Stacy had donated a hefty amount of money to the school, meaning their recently counsellor turned principal, Principal Weber, was going to make sure that Gwen was going to be treated like royalty. 

Miles had gotten into some trouble with Principal Weber right around the time Gwen had joined; apparently the old hag wasn't too keen on the brash teenager vandalizing her office. So naturally, Weber had put him in charge as Gwen's guide for six weeks, stating that her good energy would rub off on him. As if walking her to each class and giving her a tour of Visions wasn't enough on its own, Weber had gotten special permission from Miles’ parents to have Miles walk Gwen to school every morning and walk her home. Miles protested, obviously he did, stating that six weeks was way too extreme of a time frame to be hanging around the pristine porcelain doll that was Gwen Stacy. However, Weber had threatened it was either six weeks of being a guide or semester of after-school detention. Miles had chosen the latter. 

"No thank you," she replied, and he tensed up at the politeness oozing from her tone. "I would rather not be at risk for lung cancer." 

He rolled his eyes, dropping his finished smoke, and putting it out underneath his boot. "Yeah, whatever, princess. Are you ready?" 

"Yes," she nodded. 

Together, they quietly walked towards Visions. He didn't know why she chose to walk when Mr. Stacy had a line of vehicles parked on their driveway. Not that Miles minded. He could use the cardio.

In the short time Gwen Stacy had been a student at Visions, she had quickly made a name for herself. She was somehow on the Student Council, something Miles found himself avoiding, was in every honours class, became head captain of their roller derby team, and even Miles had to begrudgingly admit that she was a damn good leader. She was somehow terrifying and motivating at the same time. Gwen never falunted any of these traits, though, nor did she show off her money. She wasn’t like those other preppy, spoiled rich girls at Visions. Gwen did these things for her own happiness and benefit, and despite how annoying her goody-two-shoes preppiness was, he liked that about her.

Gwen broke the silence. "Have you done the physics homework?"

Miles rolled his eyes. Apparently one month wasn't enough for Gwen to get the memo: he didn't do ‘homework’. "I'm ditching." he said clearly, as if it were obvious. 

Gwen clicked her tongue. "Miles, you're already at risk for suspension for all your absences. If you ditch today too, then—"

"I don't have to come to school?" Miles intervened, placing another cigarette between his lips. "What a nightmare," he chuckled sarcastically, reaching into his back pocket for his lighter.  

She rolled her eyes, snatching the cancer stick from his mouth and throwing it into the bushes. 

“Hey!”

"Would you take this seriously?!" she snapped, though her tone hadn’t lost its perfect and pristine tone. “You could get in trouble or lose your spot in this school!”

Miles scoffed. "Damn, Stacy. Do you care about me or something?"

She smiled sweetly, though there wasn't a trace of mirth in it. "Absolutely not. Besides, I'd love for Weber to extend your punishment by another few weeks."

He froze at that. Could he truly endure six additional weeks of waking up an hour early, walking to the Stacy residence, and having to awkwardly stand outside their gate as Mr. Stacy gave him the evil if-you-hurt-my-daughter-I-hurt-you stink eye every morning before he left for work? Gwen took notice of his rigid shoulders and giggled at his reaction. Miles scowled. That damn angelic sounding laugh was going to drive him truly insane one of these days. Before Miles could think of his own snarky remark to shoot back at her, a shadowy figure emerged from behind them, snaking their arms around Gwen’s waist. Miles felt his hands ball up into fists, and he immediately turned around to find a guy about their age wearing a Midtown High School hoodie. 

Gwen’s nostrils flared, and she wriggled to get out of his grip. 

"Hey, sweetheart," the stranger said into Gwen's ear. "How's my favourite girl?" His eyes travelled up her body with a leer of entitlement.

Miles felt a flame of anger ignite somewhere deep inside of him, and it only burned more fiercely when he saw that Gwen was visibly repulsed. 

She can take care of herself, Miles had to remind himself. Don't lose your temper. 

She pushed him away, her arms flexing as she did so. "I was fine, Eddie," Gwen grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. "Not so much now that you're here." 

Miles chuckled to himself lightly, happily reminded that Gwen was able to hold her own. It didn't last long, however, because the interloper gave him the evil eye. 

Eddie redirected his gaze to the source of the laughter. "Who's the peasant, Gwen?" 

He wrapped his arm around Gwen���s shoulders and waggled an insolent finger at Miles, and he felt the flame of anger return. 

Gwen glared at him, answering through clenched teeth. "This is Miles. My friend." She stomped her foot in anger. "But I don't talk about my friends to people like you." she huffed, letting her arms fall from her chest. "What are you doing here?" she asked, wrestling out of his grip and stepping away from Eddie and closer to Miles. 

Eddie barked out a laugh and stepped closer, attempting to snake his arm around her again, but she stepped back. His smile became more oily and insinuating. 

"Can't I visit my favourite girl?" he asked, reaching for her for yet another time. 

Miles yanked Gwen behind him. In one swift move, he grabbed Eddie’s arm and pulled it up and behind his back. Grabbing the moron by his stupid hoodie, Miles raised his first to sock him across the jaw, but he held back when he heard Gwen gasp behind him. Taking a deep breath, he decided to settle this with words, the way Gwen usually would; his tone was dangerously calm as he uttered out his next few words. 

"If you want to talk, then fucking talk. But keep your hands off of her," he hissed through clenched teeth. "She obviously doesn't want to be touched."

Miles had dealt with creeps like Eddie before, especially in his old neighbourhood before his father landed his policing job in Brooklyn. He would usually just grab them and drag them to the nearest authority figure.

“She’s mine, who are—”

“Gwen doesn’t belong to anyone,” Miles growled dangerously, putting an angry emphasis on his words. “Now get out of here before I break your arm," he huffed out.

For a brief moment, he turned around and caught Gwen gazing at him in pure awe, and Miles felt his raging anger morph into a much warmer, more pleasant, and less recognizable emotion. But it only lasted a second before she regained her composure and glared at Eddie as well. 

Eddie squirmed as he tried to break free from the grasp on his collar. "Fine! Just let go of me. Take the whore!" 

That’s when Miles saw red. He dropped Eddie, sending him crashing onto the pavement sidewalk. However, Miles hadn't expected the bastard to recover so quickly because he delivered a swift kick that swept Miles under his feet and he too landed hard on the asphalt. Eddie got up and roughly socked him across the jaw, before looking at Gwen. 

"Bitch," he hissed, and Miles’ emotions spiralled out of control. 

Gwen began to open her mouth, probably to diffuse the situation and settle this peacefully like she always liked to do, but Miles had different plans. He scrambled to his feet and tackled Eddie to the ground. He pinned him down, digging his knee into Eddie's chest, and delivered a hard punch across his jaw. He didn't intend to keep on going, until Gwen was pulling him off of him and screaming for him to stop. Eddie was once again lying down on the pavement, this time groaning as blood gushed out from his mouth and nose. There were several bruises beginning to form on his cheek and jaw, and Miles spotted a black eye starting to take effect. He delivered one last hard kick to his shin for good measure, and snarled as Gwen grabbed him, ushering him away. 

"Call her that one more time!" he challenged as Gwen hurriedly took him in the opposite direction. "If you do so much as look at her, you're dead!" Miles shouted as she practically dragged him back to Stacy residence. 

Miles's chest was still heaving with anger as Gwen jammed her keys into the keyhole and unlocked her door. She dragged him all the way upstairs to her bedroom and locked her door. 

"Are you crazy?!" she snapped. 

"Me?!" he sputtered in disbelief. "He was the one—"

"Miles!" she growled. "Every single guy at Midtown is like that!"

"So?!" he barked in disbelief. "Am I supposed to just stand there and let him touch you and call you names?" 

"You're already at risk of suspension! You really don't think Eddie isn't going to Principal Weber right now?!"

He shrugged. "Whatever! Let the idiot squeal. I don't care what happens to me. Nobody does." 

Gwen stared at him, before letting out a soft sigh. "I care." she whispered, before squeezing his hands and disappearing into her bathroom.

Miles sat there, surprised. He knew he had his parents, but he had always been an outcast, along with his other troubled friends. He knew they cared, but to hear it from someone as high class as Gwen was an entirely different experience. Before he could process it any further, she returned with a First Aid kit. 

"Let me see your hands," she murmured, and he obliged. She sucked in a sharp gasp when she saw how scraped up and busted they were.

Wordlessly, Gwen began to bandage him up. 

"Why are you even helping?" he muttered. "I thought you hated me." 

"Maybe I've grown quite fond of you," she sighed. "Your brutish criminal behaviour can be charming… sometimes." she added pointedly. 

He didn't know what to say after that, so he stayed silent. 

“How’s your back?” Gwen asked, referring to his hard fall against the pavement. 

He wordlessly slid his shirt off, lightly hissing. He glanced at her to get a read of how bad it was, instead noticing a light blush dust her cheeks. 

"Nobody… nobody's ever fought for me like that," she breathed shakily as she dabbed his scrapes with some iodine. “Why did you?”

He hissed at the slight burn against the fresh wounds, and Gwen soothed him by blowing cool air on it. 

Miles closed his eyes as she wrapped some gauze around his torso. “I would’ve done it regardless of who it was. Those Midtown douchebags need to understand that this isn’t okay,” he shrugged. “And,” he added offhandedly. “M-maybe I’m fond of you too.”

She cupped his face tenderly. 

For the first time, Miles got a good look at her face. Had her eyes always been this beautiful? She smelled amazing, like lavender and vanilla, but something else too… something salty, like the gentle breeze at the beach. 

Before he knew it, he had pressed his lips against hers… or did she kiss him? Right now, he couldn’t be bothered. 

“Thank you.” she smiled. 

ooo

[lawrencespen1777]

drabble where the whumpee has a panic attack because the pneumonia makes breathing So Difficult ??

Long time coming, my patient Anon. I hope you enjoy.

Lawrence

C found W sitting straight up in bed. They were sweaty and pale with the dazed look of someone who hasn’t left their room in a week.

“Why are you up? I told you if you ever want that fever gone you’re going to have to rest. Sucks to suck.” When W didn’t respond, they laid their hand on their shoulder. “Hey. You okay?”

W, wide eyed, turned to them. Tears spilled down their flushed cheeks and onto the sweat soaked T-shirt closeting their heaving chest. “I can’t breathe,” they croaked. “My lungs are burning.”

“Okay. Okay don’t panic. Did you take your inhaler?”

W nodded and wiped away a stray tear with shaky hands. “I can’t breathe,” they whispered again.

“You can. You can do this. It’s just the fever making you panic. This feels worse than it is. Do you believe me?”

W nodded.

“You’ve got to calm down or you’re never going to catch your breath.” They placed their palm against W’s chest and felt underneath the crackling of the pneumonia coupled with a racing heart. “I’m here. Try breathing through your nose and out your mouth.”

“I’m freaking out.”

“Alright, then what’s five things you can see?”

W nodded again and searched the room. “You…the lamp…” A cough pushed its way through the quiet. W winced. “The bird painting…my shoes…O’Malley.” The large, orange cat flicked his tail in recognition of his name, but otherwise continued to doze at the foot of the bed.

“Good. And four things you can touch?”

“Um…the blanket…your hand…the inhaler…my pillow.”

“Very good, W.” C, with their hand still pressed against W’s chest, could feel the muscles loosening and the strained breaths becoming less and less desperate. “What about three things you can hear?”

W closed their eyes and in the silence C heard their gasps turn to quick breaths, then to deep ones. “O’Malley’s purring…the TV in the living room, and…I can hear you bouncing your leg again.”

C hadn’t noticed their own nervous tick until now. Maybe they should do their own panic exercise. “Two things you can smell.”

W laid back against their pillow and pulled a few more deep breaths through their nose. “Coffee,” they sighed. “And the Apple Pie candle you bought last week.”

C pushed the strands of wet hair away from W’s glazed eyes. They handed them the warm glass they had brought into the room a few minutes ago. W brought it to their lips, hands weak, but steady. They sipped and smiled.

“What can you taste?”

“Chamomile, my favorite.”

C took back the cup and placed it on the nightstand beside them. Then they picked up W’s hand and held it in theirs. W squeezed, sighing contentedly as their heavy eyes finally closed. “How’s your breathing?” C asked softly.

“Much better. Thank you, C.”

C kissed W’s fingers. “Feel better. I’ll come check on you in a bit, okay?”

But W, finally at ease, had already slipped back into sleep

[run-clever-boy]

Stolen Glances Pt. 1 - Ian Malcolm

@toomanybandstocare - thank you for the wonderful prompt!! Totally taking you up on it [Prompt Here]

Professor!Ian Malcolm x Student of Professor!Fem!Reader

Warnings: None! (Wine?)

Summary: Your father invites his colleague over for dinner and he turns out very different than you expected.

“Dr. Y/L/N!” The man said, walking into the room confidently with a bottle of wine in his hand.

“Professor Malcolm! A grand entrance as always!” You hear your father say from across the hall. You put down your book and walk into the kitchen of your home where your father and- who you were assuming was- Dr. Malcolm pouring wine.

Dr. Malcolm was an interesting man for sure, however his appearance was not what you first noticed. He had a commanding presence, but not threatening. His confidence and charisma radiated off of him. He seemed to know your father well enough to throw out some simple work anecdotes, but nothing of any more substance.

Your father finally noticed your presence in the kitchen and gestured you into the room further.

“My goodness, excuse my manners Ian! This is my daughter, Y/n” Your father says cheerfully. “Y/n, this is Dr. Ian Malcolm, a colleague of mine!”

You reach out and shake his hand firmly and he gives you a small nod. “She happens to be in your particular field of study I believe, Ian!” Your father chimes in.

You turn toward him. “What field of study do you teach, Doctor?”

“I am a man of theoretical mathematics, more specifically… uh.. the amazing possibility of.. um.. chaos theory!” He smiles brightly “Do you happen to be a student of.. uh.. theoretical math Y/n?”

“I’m actually not very familiar with theoretical math, however I am interested in the theories surrounding it. Currently, I’m pursuing the study of general, or to you more practical, mathematics at the university” You reply. “So you study the work of Edward Lorenz?”

He looked stunned for a moment. He had barely known anyone interested in chaos theory in his lifetime, and an undergraduate student was talking about Edward Lorenz, the inventor of the theory he bases his life’s work on. He practically grinned from ear to ear as he looked you up and down to evaluate you.

“See Ian, I told you she was something special” Your father said, beaming with pride. You put on a faux innocent expression and simply said “What?”. Then you made eye contact with the professor.

Just then is when the weight of his appearance hit you. His eyes bored holes in yours, sparkling with curiosity. He was dressed all in black attire, a button down and slacks from work you were assuming, except the top few buttons on his shirt were undone and his sleeves were rolled up. You could see the chain he was wearing around his neck under his shirt and the many rings he had. His dark framed glasses slid down on his nose so you were looking right at him, his dark curly hair hiding none of his face.

Your faux innocence faltered severely, causing a shy smile and a large blush to creep up on your cheeks as you broke eye contact and looked down at your shoes. You heard him chuckle slightly from in front of you and then finally raised your head back up to look at your father.

“So,” you said “what’s for dinner?”

“Steak dinner tonight Y/n, only the best when we have guests over!” He laughed heartily.

“Please, don’t go through trouble for me-“ Malcolm started

“Nonsense!” Your father interrupted. “We have to celebrate anyway, dear Y/n is starting her last year of classes before she is off to graduate school this week as well, it’s no trouble at all!”

“Congratulations!” Professor Malcolm said looking over at you again. “That’s a big achievement to make it this far.”

“Well thank you, Dr. Malcolm. I got my schedule today and I think you will be pleased to hear there may be a theoretical mathematics course on my roster. My father said he wanted to go over it with me anyways tonight.”

He looked you straight in the eyes again and your heart sped up. It was difficult to keep eye contact with him for a long time. He was a man that practically screamed intelligence and power, and for the first time in your life you couldn’t get enough of it. The magnetism alone took you completely by surprise.

“Well don’t just stand there! Dinner’s about ready, why don’t you go get your roster from your room and bring it down here for afterwards.” Your father suggested.

“Happy to, be right back.” You said and you swiftly exited the room.

You went to your room and grabbed the Manila envelope off of your bed. Y/N Y/L/N was printed in big bold letters on the front. You turned and exited your room to walk swiftly through the hallways back to the kitchen. You suddenly saw a shadow round the corner just before you bumped into it and jumped back, startled.

“I’m so sorry, truly, I.. uh.. apologize” You hear, realizing it’s only the professor you nearly walked into.

“No worries at all sir, I just got startled” You say with a breath of relief.

“No need to call me sir, Y/n. Dr. Malcolm is fine, but please just call me Ian, if you’re more uh comfortable with that.” He said with a smirk playing on his lips as he pushed his glasses up.

“Well Dr. Mal- sorry, Ian, thank you for coming.”

“Please is mine. Your father sent me to get wine glasses, do you uh know where those might be?” He asked, leaning against the wall he was next to.

“First cabinet down this hallway, there should be 3 perfectly clean glasses on the left.” You replied.

“Thank you, uh, very much”

You make your way to the kitchen and meet your father’s giddy smile.

“What do you think of him?” Your father says.

“He seems intelligent, good humor I suppose.” You put forward attempt a nonchalant tone. “He’s quite the personality”

“He may be your professor someday Y/n! Wouldn’t that be lovely!” You hear him giggle. Your father was always happy-go-lucky, but he always seemed especially happy when company came over.

“All good things I hope?” You hear from behind you.

You turn to face the voice that rattled you. You discover Ian leaning against the door frame with three glasses in his hands. His glasses slide down his nose and you look into his eyes through them, having to look up to be able to see his tall frame. He flashes you a wink when you linger on him a little too long and your face heats up wildly.

“Always” You hear your father say.

You take the glasses from him and set them on the counter next to the bottle of wine he brought over. You feel heat rise up from behind you as Ian reaches over you to grab the bottle of wine and uncork it. You have seriously never not been able to control your impulses and thoughts, but something about him breaks down every barrier.

~~~▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄~~~

You get through the delicious dinner with nothing more than slight glances over the table and his occasional smirk. You got to discuss some theory with him, which was a great experience. Discussions of the major influences of current mathematics, difference in theoretical vs. practical statistics, other things you had been learning and studying for your many years of university.

You finally got to discuss the schedule for your next year of classes with your father, but he insisted that Dr. Malcolm stay to give you advice for your last semester. It wasn’t a horrible idea in concept, actually you would’ve normally appreciated the opportunity, but the man in question was driving you crazy and you couldn’t understand why. While him leaving meant you would probably never see him again so you could focus, you really wanted him to stay. No one had ever made you blush like he did and you wanted to get to the bottom of why, Even if it involved getting a drink or two with him.

“Euclidean Geometry with a Dr. Hack, Probability in Statistics III with a Dr. Brown, and-“ Your father paused “Application of Chaos Theory with our very own Dr. Ian Malcolm! What a coincidence!” You father beamed out with joy, lightly tapping you on the arm.

“Well you will be one of my most interesting, uh, students, Y/n.” He said, looking you in the eye. “I’ll be seeing more of you then?” He added, leaning in.

“Let’s see where it goes, Dr. Malcolm” You say, bolder than you meant which immediately causes you to shrink back. He gives you an all knowing smile, looking right through you.

For once, you were excited for school to start again.

Tags from the comments of the prompt post: @melonpire @datrie @druigswh0ree

[judasgot-it]

Argument with Dazai Part 2

Here's a link to part 1 if you haven't read that, people asked for a second part (I love you guys I will always write second parts if you ask btw no matter how old the post is) so I am now finally delivering !! Sorry I'm a slow writer lol I can't help it

This almost makes me seem like I hate Dazai but I try to follow canon and dude is a menace when it comes to relationships, but I tried to redeem him best I can! LOL

Scenario: Getting into an argument with Dazai; making up <3

You could feel the heat from the day leaving beads of sweat on the back of your neck, your thick shirt sticking to your back as you carried your bags on your lower arms. It was uncomfortable, threatening to slip off as you tried to unlock your door.

Inside your head, you were praying that Dazai had left for the day.

But you watched as your keys, still stuck into your door, jingled as the door swung open on its own. Behind the door, you saw your walkway, with your usually haphazardly thrown shoes now neatly put away, and there were a pair of chestnut eyes looking shyly at you, waiting for you to step in.

Taking your keys, you tried to avoid those eyes, instead focusing intently on resettling yourself back into your home. You tried to ignore the hand that hung your keys next to his, fingers doing so as if the metal were made of glass. You turned your head as you felt those hands slipping the plastic bags off of your arms, ignoring how cold his hand felt next to your own skin.

You merely observed as your body did the same as it always did, walking into your apartment and observing the changes.

For once, you were surprised.

"Do you wanna sit down?"

Dazai put a feather-light touch on your shoulder, leaning so close you could feel his hair sticking to the sweat on your face. You pushed him away.

"Dazai."

You finally turned to look at him. The man you usually knew to stand tall and straight had his shoulders slumped over - his entire body gave into you, as if it were already an apology in itself.

You could see him eating his ego as he looked at you, his eyebrows taught as he kept his hands at his sides.

"I'm sorry about what happened."

He rushed it out as if trying to prevent your harsh words from hurting him more than your mere presence did. Guilt was eating him alive.

You looked down at the floor. What you had expected to do when you came home was clean up the rest of his mess - but right now, instead of stepping on sticky alcohol, the floor you were standing on was spotless.

"There's no point."

You moved to sit on the couch, crossing your ankle over your knee. Dazai's shadow was near your foot, begging to be acknowledged. Its cold static wisps were clawing at your white sock, although the man himself had made no move to come closer towards you.

In all your time of knowing him, sharing space with him, you had never known him to be scared.

"You won't tell me why you acted like that, besides the alcohol. Dazai, I've known you for years, but I don't even know who you are. I don't know if anyone knows who you really are, anyhow. And I don't think you're going to tell me."

A weight settled a small distance from you, only enough to feel the disturbance in the cushions he made with his weight. You passed a glance at his hands, which were kept firmly on his thighs, twisting and picking at his nails. They were red and raw as if he were set on destroying himself all day.

"I don't know how to tell you. There's a beginning that I can't even look for myself. The worst parts are too painful to bring up, but I know you want to know at least why I do the things I do, right?"

A nothing answer, maybe a lead. Dazai was vague at best with this, but with the way he was trying to peel even the tiniest piece of skin away from his thumb, it was clearly difficult for him to spit it out.

You gave pause, having a moment of silence between the two of you, before you replied.

"Is it loss?"

There was a deep breath that Dazai released at that. You finally looked up at his face, watching as his brown eyes were carefully trying to conceal the emotions that he felt. You could see clear as day, past the mask that he had carefully built up, that his eyes were large and wet, with a pulled-back lip to hide the shaking.

This affected him. Deeply.

It was so apparent but he seemed to hide it better than you would ever suspect. He only seemed to show his grief in self-destruction. Self-inflicted punishment for a crime he didn't commit - how Dazai of him.

"Yes. It was a few years ago now, but he was the closest thing I had to a father. After he died, um..."

You reached out to Dazai, placing your hand over his, peeling his other hand away from his now bleeding thumb. His eyes met yours.

"Sorry. I was never a good person before I knew him. I promised to be better for him, but I'm not good at it."

You looked to your hands, where you felt his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. You could feel the callouses on his skin as they brushed against the back of your hand, back and forth in a languid Dazai-esque pattern.

"Well. You try. It's why I came back. I think he would be proud of you for that - if he saw that you were trying. That's the only thing you can do when you make these kinds of mistakes."

You took your other hand, reaching up to brush away Dazai's hair that stuck to his neck due to the sweat. His skin was cold and clammy as he leaned into your touch.

Pulling him closer, you let the brow fall against your collarbone as you gently stroked the back of his neck, feeling the small stubble of hairs that were growing from his last haircut. Dazai pressed himself closer against you, trying to hide his face in his bangs and in your shirt, although you could feel the tears that he tried to hide.

Dazai held your hand a little tighter.

You pulled him a little closer.

The apartment you shared felt more like a home today.

Idk if I like the ending LOL but um this is kinda long?? also sorry if this reads different than usual cause im trying to improve my writing style im just figuring it out aaaahhhhhhh