#i'm thinking about stupid fucking arguments

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

This type of condescending post is why the LGBT is losing acceptance.

I just want that to be understood. Because let's break this down.

OP's picture compares "Flamboyance" to Joy. These things are not the same.

"Gay joy reminds the straight man of what he has suffocated himself in exchange for social acceptance or power". Ok this is another one of those "Gay is ackchewally the default" arguments. Or one of those, "men loving other men is normal but you are just giving that up for power and acceptance". No they aren't giving up jack shit. THEY ARE JUST STRAIGHT. Wtf. And you people claim you are born gay but straight people aren't real? Please justify the double standard.

"He folds himself into whatever shape looks like" Yeah. Men generally do that regardless. Unless you are telling me that gay men are incapable of being "Proper men" because they are gay. The funniest bit about this argument is that you think you are pointing out that straight men don't know what real men are when historically, men help foster the next generation. They help train the next generation to protect and defend. They hunt for the settlements and explore the world around them to keep the village safe. This has always been true. Men FOLD themselves into whatever they need to be in order to keep life going forward. That "Folding" isn't "stopping myself from being gay and happy".

Also just to point out this last bit-

#and remember you've contorted yourself into the shape of a Real Woman in exchange for soc acceptance & power#and denied yourself the gentle acceptance of doing what is comfortable on this earth

People opt for whatever standards they want. If not enough people care about those standards, they fade away. That's how society works. You are making a jab at the idea of "Real woman" when often the term historically I've heard is "Proper". Real and Proper have two different meanings. And what's more, earlier before this line, you act like, condescendingly so, that "society has created a bad standard for what a real woman is and women mindlessly go along with it." <Paraphrasing here. Even more, you posit this-

#similar w straight women hating butch lesbians#you see a woman not shaving not wearing make up wearing comfy clothes and still being loved and desired

And let me mention something here. 1. Butch Lesbians are a very small minority in the Lesbian community. 2. The way you say this is almost the same condescending way that top post implied that "Gay" is ACTUALLY the way to be a "real man". Except here it's "growing out your body hair is how you be a "real woman". Except I'd be willing to bet FemLesbians do not agree with you. Especially not Fem for Fem.

Posts like this are often fucking stupid, made with possibly good intent but fall short as they only go, "WOW STRAIGHT PEOPLE ARE SO MAD". YEAH. I've been pissed for years that gay men have targeted me, a red head, and tried to get me to do sexual acts with them. And have tried to force their lifestyles on me.

SO YES. A little pissed off. But not for the reasons you claim. I don't care if a person is flamboyant. Unless they are really obnoxious about it. Because after a point, you are just putting on a performance so that everyone around you has to see you. And it's actually fucking annoying. What's more, misery and joy can't be quantified by whether or not you shave. A lot of people actually prefer to groom themselves by shaving because it's easier to keep themselves clean and make them sweat less. Take it from me as the fucking missing link, I'm the embodiment of wishing I could afford laser hair removal. And if I hate my own body hair as much as I do, color me shocked that as many women willingly shave for just themselves as do.

Posts like this are actually quite demeaning. And very condescending. Now to punt this over to my gay ally -> @theconstitutionisgayculture

EXACTLY!

[warsofarmageddon]

being in a toxic yuri haterationship with shauna ... thinking about you in a leadership position like early s3 nat. everyone listens to what you ask of them, hanging on every word. everyone except for shauna, that is.

she silently fumes in her hut listening to you talk about hunting strategies with nat and gen, chatting with akilah about how the animals are doing, or even just laughing at one of van's dumb jokes. she abhors not being the center of your attention, as much as she would hate to admit it.

until one night when it all boils over. it's particularly cold as you sit at the fire with the rest of the team, feasting on the buck that nat and gen caught earlier in the day. as your teeth rip into the meat, you look up across to see shauna with that look in her eye. you keep watching her as her eyes dart to lottie and taissa packed in on either side of you in effort to conserve heat.

shauna's eye twitches as lottie interlaces her fingers with yours as she whispers nonsense about how proud the wilderness is of you. this, apparently, is the final straw. she marches over to you and rips your hand from lottie's, pulling you into her hut and closing the makeshift door behind her.

"shauna, what the fuck? i was trying to eat!" shauna scoffs at te annoyance in your tone. you really have the audacity to be mad? if anything, she should have the right to be angry, with all the shit you pulled today.

"you know she was just trying to get in your head, right? she doesn't actually think the wilderness is proud, or any of that stupid shit she spouts."

"she is sick, shauna. you know that."

shauna fumes even further as you have the audacity to defend lottie, even though deep down she knows that you're right. knowing that she won't win this argument, she surges forward and presses her lips to yours.

you kiss back with just as much fervor and chuckle into her lips, "sore loser. you know i'm right."

shauna grabs your hands and brings them to her hips, "don't think about her. just touch me."

"say please?"

she rolls her eyes but acquiesces. whispering into the kiss, "please."

[bixels]

tarpit site.

[astr-owl-ogist]

The King's words about rubbing it in people's faces and also encouragement lent the bird enough courage to speak. "Actually, there is one more thing I need to ask of you, but I was afraid it would be too much."

He motioned around the office. "I'm in.. this situation because of one interpretation of my actions, but specifically because Marquis Andrealphus wanted to hurt me for embarrassing his sister with an affair and a divorce." The normally level bird would slowly go off the rails the longer he spoke. "He was hoping I would do something stupid to prevent the deaths of my friends but if I hadn't seen the broadcast and done exactly that he would have likely been satisfied with my misery, or at least been satisfied until the hitman my ex-wife hired to kill me finished me." He began to pace, unable to stay still now. "I know Stella hired Striker to kill me--he kidnapped and tortured me for ages and only stopped when she called him to temporarily cancel the hit! I'd know her shrieking banshee voice anywhere." He shook his head in pure frustration. "But the fucking, agonizing truth of it is that I have no hard evidence. Nothing! Not a fucking thing." He angrily knocked over a stacked column of boxes. "And Satan himself made that cock of a peacock the Prince regent for Octavia! And now the only thing between Andrealphus and a strong argument for him to have the rank of prince is the life of my daughter, whom he doesn't value in the slightest!"

Thinking about Octavia got him to center a bit. Taking a breath, his red eyes turned to his majesty and he approached, trying not to sound too pathetic. "Please. What I ask. My daughter. Octavia. Protect her, somehow. Tell that.. Marquis that you have taken an interest in her future, that he'll be held responsible for her safety. Or tell him the title and legions and power and fortunes will return to my Father's family if anything happened to her. Something, anything. She needn't know I asked, I don't care if she knows. Only that she's safe."

He took a breath. "If I'm wrong about Andrealphus and he is indeed a loyal servant and not a power hungry backstabber it will change nothing. If I am right this could save my precious girl's life."

A fallen father's desperate plea.

Oh! Well that sounded simple enough, much more so when he was told he could just hand it off to someone else to arrange. So long as Stolas was getting paid and doing the job Lucifer didn't really care for the techniques in sorting out the simpler matters of pay.

Lucifer put his number into Stolas' phone and handed it back promptly, leaving Stolas just a moment to enjoy his new pin. Cocking a curious but playful eyebrow at Stolas' decision not to share whatever name he was putting him under. Oh, but he would be endlessly curious! "Something fitting I hope," he only commented, his sin of pride showing through just a little once again as his own phone pinged with Stolas' message.

He quickly pulled out his phone, smiled at the emoji before saving the contact as Stolas, Geotian Emissary with an owl emoji in the title. Simple for one such as himself but Lucifer was prone to mixing things up while he rushed around trying to put his house in order. Oblivious to Stolas' new lease of life and the personal significance of his new position but it was clear enough that the demon was happier after everything that had happened, at least he had done some good in that respect.

He tapped a clawed finger at his chin for another suggestion from Stolas and nodded, "I won't announce anything, but you should attend any Geotian courts quietly and speak when you feel it is necessary for my interests." That way it wasn't a loud demand and as Stolas suggest it was more a quiet and subtle influence to guide rather than force. "But if you wanna rub it in some faces too I wouldn't hold it against you," he reassured him with a chuckle and a pointed smile.

"You'll suit this you know," Lucifer gently encouraged, "from what I heard of the trial and from what you've told me, I think you've got this in the bag." It was only a matter of explaining what Lucifer actually wanted to happen now and just how pressing his 'suggestions' actually were.

[ratcandy]

getting into actual angry arguments: awful. terrible. going to be thinking about it for the rest of the day. leaves me seething about what I could have said differently for the rest of my life.

getting into friendly debates: ohhhhhh enrichmennce.. :) mine brain is so full and thinking..........yippie yaaaaaay!!!!!!

[unopenablebox]

apparently yelling at your parents for posting a bunch of reactionary shit on facebook about how the student protestors are all pathetic snowflakes because they eat gluten-free food and have blue hair and pronouns actually works sometimes? which is good. but oh my god

[leofrith]

acv hate on my dash and i can't even be mad about it because they make some good points 😶

[advestager]

A/I STAN IN THE DASH. I REPEAT A/I STAN GOT THROUGH MY FILTERS INTO THE FUCKIN DASH THIS IS NOT A DRILL

[kittlyns]

My mom and I have been verbally planning a trip back to her hometown and my birthplace and then my step-dad (who didnt even know us at that point of time) invites himself along

[oliapfel]

that feel when you tell someone the world isn't black and white and they respond with a very confident "yes it is"

[digi-diareis]

"We need to talk" Prank

with the LaDS love interests, implied that the LI's are already in a relationship w you

Xavier

Oh he's pulling out the puppy dog eyes immediately, lower lip jutting out and ready to start crying.

"I'm sorry." "What? Do you even know what you're apologizing for? Also, why are you apologizing?"

This guy is ready to admit to any and all the faults he's made the past week, from cooking without permission, eating her secret stash of snacks, forgetting to feed the cat on time, etc.

"Please don't break up with me, please please please please-" "Xavi, baby, calm down, I'm not breaking up with you"

Anyways, the prank doesn't even last a minute because you break the moment he pulls out the kicked puppy look and he starts begging for you.

You guys end up cuddling the entire day because he won't stop sulking and being worried that you're tired of him so you can't really leave him alone because this is your fault.

We love a loser like Xavi <3

Rafayel

Dramatic ass man and pranks like these are like perfect tiktok material.

"Oh, you are NOT breaking up with me. I don't give you permission to." "I don't recall breaking up having to need permission from both parties." "Well, now you know."

Anyways, you're both just bickering over stupid shit now. You've strayed from the "we need to talk" to now pointing fingers at who's the bigger drama queen between the two of you.

Zayne

Oh sweet summer child, takes you very seriously.

"What is it, love? Did I do something to upset you?"

Oh, you just know how guilty you'll end up feeling when you keep up with the prank. You last a solid 3 sentences before you slowly turn quiet because he's listening so patiently and looks like he's truly reflecting on everything you've said.

"Okay, I'm sorry it was a stupid prank but I can't stand looking at you this guilty. You've been nothing but an absolute sweetheart, I could never ask for more."

Zayne sighs, relieved that it wasn't actually something major.

"Please, try not to do pranks like these again. I love you but the way my heart dropped when you said those words is not healthy."

You give him a big hug and lots of smooches to make it up to him, vowing never to do pranks like these on him again.

Sylus

Oh, you are looking forward to this. There's a power trip of sorts when you remember how much power you actually hold over this man. And this is perfect.

Some say this might be a red flag of yours but you're dating a wholeass criminal big boss so it's not really that big of a deal.

When you start the prank, he raises an eyebrow. Feeling like it might be a prank since he did spoil you and didn't do anything to piss you off recently.

"And what is it this time, sweetheart?"

Okay ngl, I think this prank goes way too far because he would correct / contradict / defend every single reason and excuse you come up with. That it just becomes a wholeass debate of whether you even have an actual reason to be unsatisfied with your relationship.

At the end of it all, you are breathless and out of excuses. So you just glare at him. Sylus simply smirks knowing he won this 'argument'.

"I'll get you someday, look forward to the day that you're begging for me on your knees." "Oh sweetheart, I'd get on my knees for you anytime, if you just asked."

Caleb

You feel like this might be the worst idea you've ever had, knowing full well how possessive Caleb can get but anything for the gram or whatever the kids say.

"Say that again, buttercup? I think I misheard you."

Oh, the way his voice dropped an entire octave got you both nervous and also maybe turned on?

You try to be strong and push through, repeating what you said.

"Sure, we can talk. Did I do something wrong? Did I upset you? Did you find out about the hidden cameras? Is it the new guy at work, did he give you any ideas? I knew I shouldn't have stopped at a few broken ribs-" "CALEB WHAT THE FUCK"

Prank is forgotten, you are now giving him an hour long sermon about hidden cameras and not beating up every man who has any interaction with you.

What you say is definitely passing through the other ear for him, he's just pleased he managed to distract you from the original topic. Its better that you feel responsible for correcting him and being stuck with him rather than you getting sick and tired of him.

Caleb - 1 : You - 0

(i tried my best but i feel like these are very ooc aaaaaaa)

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Why are people malding over Refan using the word "diverse"? TT0TT You have a fucking rabbit, a fairy, a guy with horns, a femboy with heterochromia, and an elf girl. What else are you going to call it????

[idiomagic]

Things I Have Learned By Somehow Surviving To 55 Years Old -- It is actually ridiculously easy to say 'I'm sorry'. Doubling down in a panic, trying to prove you're 'right', loses you friends and makes everything worse, every time. -- Life goes by in the blink of an eye. Don't waste your time on stupid bullshit. Discourse, internet arguments, fighting over useless details... are just going to roil you up, make you miserable, and that time can be better spent doing anything else. -- There is no One True Way. If you're convinced that your 'praxis' or whatever is the only correct one, that your view is the only correct one, that your belief is the only correct one, only one thing is guaranteed: you are absolutely wrong. If you find yourself being smug and patting yourself on the back that you are the Only Smart and Correct Person on the internet, you are embarrassingly wrong...and everyone else knows it. -- It is never too late. It's never too late to change careers, go back to school, transition, change your beliefs, change yourself. You don't have to live like this, you don't have to think like this, you don't have to be like this. It's not too late to change. -- Life happens offline. The internet is for fucking around while you're in between real life stuff. The world of the internet is not real, it's not real life, and if your only life is online, you really need to log off, leave your phone behind, and go out into the world. Interact with real people, in real situations, without a keyboard.

-- You learn way more by listening than by talking, and people will respect you more when you do have something to say. -- You need to get out of your online bubbles and talk to people who do not share your beliefs. Tumblr gives you the impression that you are the majority, that everyone believes what you do, thinks like you do, has the same outlook on life that you do. And that is far from the truth. For example: 98% of the country is cis and heterosexual. The vast majority of people do not have fandoms. The majority of humanity cares more about what you do than whether or not you use the 'correct' terminology. -- There is always hope. No matter how bleak the world seems right now, we have made staggering amounts of progress just in my lifetime. But we've done it by showing up, by voting, by acting. Progress happens in meat space, not through discourse. Online activism isn't activism. It's the prelude to activism. If you want change, you have to put down your screens, get out in the world, and make it happen. -- The sexiest thing any human being can do is to learn, to grow, and to be able to say 'I was wrong. I've learned more now, and I'm going to do better.' -- Finding love, in any form, is the barest beginning of what a relationship is. If you want to keep that love, you have to work for it, every day. And every party to that love has to do the work. If your partner/partners/friends don't work to make the relationship strong, it's not love and it will never be healthy. -- The only limit to who you can be and what you can be is you. You can't change your physical limits, but you can always decide that you will learn, that you will change, that you will grow. You can always be more than you are right now, bigger than you are right now. No one and nothing can stop you from that, except you. https://ko-fi.com/idiomagic

[missdynamighttt]

because i'm evil, pro hero! katsuki avoiding you after giving you backshots just because the poor baby had feelings for you :((

it’s been days. days since you last spoke. days since that night.

since he touched you like you were the only fucking thing that mattered and then, like cowards, you both just... disappeared.

you hadn’t spoken. you hadn’t really spoken. not in a way that mattered. all the little things—the bickering, the late-night conversations, the stupid arguments—it had stopped.

you’d become ghosts to each other.

so now, here you are, marching straight into the locker room after hours, footsteps echoing off the walls, heat rising to your face and fists clenched tight.

simply because, you couldn't take it anymore.

because despite the quiet, despite the harsh avoidance, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something inside you was always tugging you back toward him.

even now, when you were furious, when the bitterness burned through your chest like a furnace, you couldn’t resist the pull of him.

katsuki's sitting on the bench, half-dressed, toweling off his sweat, when he hears your boots stomp in. his eyes narrow as they meet yours in the mirror.

“oh, look who decided to show up,” he drawls, voice low and sharp, like he was expecting this. “finally ready to grow a pair?”

you scoff. loudly. “you ignored me first, jackass.”

“no. i fucked you first. then you ran.”

your mouth drops open, heart lurching in your chest. “you—are insufferable!”

you march right up to him, getting in his face. “you really think that’s what this is about? that i’m mad about the sex?”

he smirks. “well, i did blow your back out, so i figured you’d need a few recovery days.”

you slap his towel off his shoulder, fury boiling over. “you fucking coward!”

his smirk falters.

“you knew exactly what you were doing,” you hiss, jabbing a finger into his chest. “you touch me like you mean it, kiss me like it matters, and then pretend like nothing happened. like it wasn’t real. just sex, right? just scratching an itch?”

“i didn’t pretend shit,” he snaps back, standing up so the two of you are chest to chest. “you’re the one ignoring me like i was some fuckin’ mistake!”

“you are! one i can’t stop thinking about!”

the two of you are breathing hard, voices sharp and heated, until something catches your eye.

you glance down. ...and freeze.

your words get caught in your throat when you notice it—very, very obvious through the thin fabric of his sweats.

he’s hard.

“...are you kidding me right now?” you whisper, stunned. “you’ve got a boner—in the middle of us yelling at each other?”

katsuki groans and runs a hand through his hair, frustration tugging at every muscle in his body. “you-you think i like this? you think i like being hard whenever you so much as look at me?”

you take a step back, face flushed. his eyes are burning into you now, voice rough but lower.

“i’ve been like this for days,” he grits out. “couldn’t train right. couldn’t sleep. couldn’t even jerk off without thinking about you—your face, your voice, that smart-ass mouth...”

you blink, stunned into silence.

“and it’s not just about the sex, alright?” he mutters, quieter now. “i keep thinkin’ about you after. the way you looked at me when i kissed you. the way you said my name. the way you held onto me. like you wanted more.”

you swallow thickly, your mouth suddenly dry.

“i didn’t know what to do with that,” he says, almost hoarse. “didn’t know what it meant. scared i’d fuck it up if i said something, so... i said nothing. and that was worse.”

the silence between you stretches. you’re staring at him, your heart pounding. you open your mouth, but nothing comes out. so instead, you just do the only thing that feels right.

you step forward and kiss him. hard. hot. angry. desperate.

and when he kisses you back—hands tangled in your hair, mouth slanting over yours like he’s starving—it’s not just lust anymore. it’s a confession. it’s an apology.

it’s everything you were both too fucking stubborn to say.

when you finally pull back, breathing hard, you look up at him and mutter, “you’re still a coward.”

he chuckles, resting his forehead against yours. “yeah? deal with it.”

you sigh, cheeks burning. “only if you fuck me stupid in the shower.”

his grin is wicked. “oh, you’re gonna regret sayin’ that.”

you tried to deflect with your usual sarcasm, a smart remark perched on your tongue—but it didn’t make it past your lips when he looked at you like that.

like he meant it. like you weren’t just a fight and a fuck to him.

he pulled you into the private bathroom of his office at the agency—some high-end, sleek place with dark marble walls, chrome fixtures, and a rainfall showerhead that must’ve cost more than your rent.

the moment the warm spray hit your skin, the heat from earlier didn’t dissipate. it deepened.

steam curled between you, trailing along your neck, between your breasts, down the bruises he left on your hips.

you turned away, hiding your face beneath the water. embarrassed. overwhelmed. because you weren’t supposed to feel like this, and pretend it mattered.

but he followed you in, body pressing up behind you, arms bracketing your hips with surprising gentleness.

“…you okay?” katsuki murmured, his voice low and husky but softer than before. no teasing, no cocky smirk. just that raspy, raw tone of someone who wasn’t used to asking.

you nodded quickly, too quick, like a liar. “i’m fine.”

“you’re shaking.”

you didn’t have a response to that. not one that made you sound strong. so instead, you gripped the tile, your body still humming from him, from the kiss, from everything.

he kissed your shoulder. then the side of your neck. his hands didn’t grab—they rested on your waist, rubbing soft circles into your skin like he was memorizing you. every slow pass of his thumbs up your ribs made your breath catch.

“you always run your fuckin’ mouth,” he muttered, lips against your damp skin. “…but you’re real quiet now.”

you felt his cock rock-hard against the small of your back, thick and hot, pressed to you through the water.

your stomach flipped.

“this is different,” you whispered. it wasn’t supposed to be this slow. this… intimate.

“i know.”

he pulled your hair back from your face, gentle fingers smoothing it behind your ear, the same hand trailing down over your collarbone, cupping your tits like he needed to feel the weight of it in his palm.

his thumb circled your nipple slowly—so slowly it had your knees wobbling. then he twisted it, just enough to make you gasp and lean into him, your back to his chest.

“let me take my time with you,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “don't treat me like i’m some kinda mistake.”

“you are,” you breathed, trying to hold onto the fire in your chest, even as it softened under the drag of his hands down your belly.

he chuckled low. “liar.”

his fingers dipped between your thighs, parting your slick folds under the warm water. he groaned when he felt how wet you already were.

your breath hitched. “you gonna tease me now?”

he kissed your cheek, smirking against your skin. “nah. just wanna make you cum with my fingers first.”

and he did. oh, fuck, did he.

he sank two thick fingers inside you, slow and deep, curling them just right, his other hand palming your tit, lips dragging down your neck between sweet praises and filth.

“god, you’re tight… fuck—grippin’ my fingers like this, princess? you wanna milk my cock again, don’t you?”

you whimpered, your forehead pressed to the tile as your legs threatened to give out. his fingers thrust steadily inside you, a little faster, a little deeper, until your thighs trembled and your orgasm of the night crept up quick and sharp, exploding through you like wildfire.

you came with a strangled gasp, collapsing back against him. he held you up, letting you ride it out, brushing your hair back and kissing your temple.

he didn’t even ask for anything in return. but when you turned to face him, your hand sliding down his abs, eyes soft and nervous and needier than you wanted to admit, he let out a shaky breath like you were the one taking him apart now.

“…want me to take care of you too?” you asked, voice quiet.

katsuki stared at you. then kissed you again. slower this time. softer. it knocked the air out of your chest. and even though your body was still trembling, you wanted to give him something in return. something that said you felt it too, even if you weren’t brave enough to say the words.

you kissed down his jaw, his throat, lingering on the spot just under his ear where you felt him shiver. then lower.

he let you push him gently back against the tile, water streaming down the hard lines of his chest and abs, that cock of his already flushed and twitching with need.

“fuck, you don’t have to—”

“i want to,” you cut him off softly, meeting his gaze as you sank to your knees, the shower floor warm beneath you. the look on his face—half disbelief, half pure, wrecked hunger—sent a bolt of heat through your stomach.

you started slow, like he did with you.

fingers curling around the base of his cock, you dragged your tongue from root to tip, tasting the water, the salt of his skin. he hissed through his teeth, one hand flying to your wet hair, fingers tightening, not to control you—but to ground himself.

you licked again, swirling your tongue around the head, teasing the slit. his thighs tensed.

“shit… that mouth,” he groaned, his head hitting the tile behind him with a dull thud. “you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

you smiled, smug now, and took him into your mouth slowly—inch by inch, stretching your lips around the thick, heavy weight of him. his breath stuttered above you, hips twitching, but he didn’t thrust. he let you take your time.

you hollowed your cheeks, letting your tongue press along the underside, dragging back with a soft slurp that had him groaning your name.

“god—you’re… you’re too fuckin’ good at this.”

the praise made you moan around him, and that vibration nearly broke him. his fingers gripped tighter in your hair as you bobbed your head, slow and deep, letting your throat relax as he slid further in.

when you gagged slightly, he cursed and tried to pull back.

but you held him there, hands on his thighs, eyes locked on his as you swallowed him down again, slower this time, more controlled, until your nose brushed his skin and he choked on a groan so wrecked it made you ache.

“you’re—shit, you’re makin’ a fuckin’ mess, sweetheart.”

he wasn’t wrong. your spit mixed with precum and the water, dripping down your chin, pooling at your knees. but you didn’t care. not when he was looking at you like that, mouth slack, chest heaving, completely undone.

you pulled back with a pop, stroking him with your hand as you caught your breath, tongue flicking over the tip just to hear him curse again.

“you close?” you asked, voice sweet, lips swollen.

his jaw clenched, eyes dark and desperate. “y-yeah. but i wanna—shit—i wanna cum inside you. please.”

the “please” broke you.

and just like that, you were rising to your feet, mouth brushing his as you whispered, “then fuck me again, katsuki. right here.”

and oh, he did.

your breath caught when his arms wrapped around your thighs and he lifted you like it was nothing—like you weighed nothing to him. one second you were kissing him, wet and needy and pressed to his chest, and the next your back hit the slick shower wall, legs wrapped around his waist, his broad hands locking under your ass.

“you—oh my god—how are you so strong?” you gasped, blinking at him through the mist and steam, your heart hammering so hard it echoed in your ears.

he smirked, water dripping from his hair, running down his sharp cheekbones. “tch. i’m a pro fuckin’ hero, baby. lifting you is the easiest thing i’ve ever done.”

and fuck, that cocky glint in his eye paired with the way he adjusted his grip on you—rough, protective, possessive—it made your stomach flip and your cunt clench around nothing.

“but—i’m—this is so embarrassing,” you mumbled, hiding your face in his neck, suddenly overwhelmed by the intimacy of it. you were flushed everywhere. cheeks, chest, even your ears were burning. “you’re making it hard to keep pretending i hate you.”

he chuckled low in his throat, tilting his head so his lips brushed your temple. “think we're way past that, sweetheart.”

and with that, he shifted his hips and slid inside you in one smooth, maddening thrust—deep, slow, thick enough to make your mouth fall open in a silent cry. your legs trembled around his waist, your arms flung tight around his neck, trying to stay upright even though he was already holding all of you.

“fuck,” he groaned, voice strained. “you feel so good.”

the stretch, the angle, the sheer depth of him like this—it was too much and not enough, and all you could do was hold on. moaning brokenly into his shoulder as he rocked into you, strong hands gripping you like you were something precious.

“you always act so tough,” he murmured against your jaw, hips snapping harder now, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing off the tile. “but look at you now. wrapped around me. so fuckin’ sweet.”

“sh-shut up,” you whined, but it had no heat. your voice cracked with every thrust, and you could barely keep your head up, overwhelmed by the way he filled you, the way he held you.

you bit his shoulder. he kept fucking you like you were his favorite sin.

he grinned, that cocky little smirk barely hiding how wrecked he looked too, water running down his temple and jaw. “did i ever tell you.. how i’ve been fantasizin’ about fuckin’ you like this... since the first time you called me a dickhead?"

your heart pounded, chest tight with flustered disbelief. “you’re so—god, you're so rude.”

“yeah?” he said, grinning against your neck. “still let me pick you up though. wrap those thighs tighter around me, sweetheart. let me feel how much you want it.”

you whined. you actually whined, heat flooding your face as your thighs clenched harder around his hips.

you were barely holding on—your nails dug into his back, legs trembling around his waist as he fucked you into the wall like he owned you. each deep, hungry thrust had your head spinning, the water pouring over you both doing nothing to cool the heat blistering through your body.

he was grunting low in your ear, panting against your neck, his arms tightening under you with every bounce of your hips on his cock.

“katsuki—” you gasped, the name tumbling out desperate and ruined.

“fuck, baby,” he growled, forehead pressed against yours. “you’re squeezin’ me so damn tight—gonna make me lose it.”

your entire body was strung taut with want, soaked in heat and steam and the friction of him pounding into you like he couldn’t get deep enough. your mind was blank, blissed out on the way he stretched you, hit every single spot just right—and then some. you were breathless, trembling, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from how good it felt, how full you were.

“inside,” you whimpered, eyes wide and shining. “katsuki—please, i want it inside.”

he stilled for half a second, eyes dark and blown wide as his jaw flexed. “you know what you’re askin’ me for, baby?”

“yes,” you breathed, pressing your forehead against his, kissing the corner of his mouth. “i want it. want you to fill me up. like you promised.”

his groan broke into something feral, primal, possessive—his hips snapping forward with even more force now, like he had something to prove.

“you’re gonna fuckin’ take it then,” he growled, his grip bruising now as he chased his high. “gonna fuckin’ breed you."

“katsuki, please—cum inside me,” you cried, legs tightening around his waist, your whole body clinging to him. “i need it. i need you.”

that was it. the growl he let out was deep and broken as he buried himself to the hilt and let go, warmth spilling inside you as he groaned your name like a curse and a prayer. his hips jerked through it, milking every last drop, and you swore you felt it—every pulse, every throb, every ounce of him claiming you from the inside out.

and even as you trembled in his arms, breathless and dazed, he didn’t let go. didn’t pull out. just held you there, lips brushing your temple.

your back hit the cool tile as he finally, finally set you down, though your legs still felt like jelly. you leaned against the shower wall, blinking up at him with glassy, dazed eyes, the water still cascading down both your bodies in lazy rivulets.

and then you saw the way he was looking at you.

katsuki’s gaze dropped between your thighs, where his cum was slowly starting to leak out of your swollen, sensitive pussy. he watched, utterly transfixed, like he’d never seen anything so perfect. his tongue darted across his bottom lip, chest rising and falling with slow, heavy breaths.

“shit,” he muttered, almost reverent. “look at that.”

“don’t look,” you mumbled, trying to press your thighs together, shy despite everything. “you’re making it weird.”

“the fuck i am,” he said, stepping closer again, voice low and smug. “that’s me, baby. all of it.”

his fingers grazed your inner thigh, pushing your leg aside so he could see more clearly. the way his eyes darkened sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through you.

“you’re fuckin’ drippin' for me,” he murmured, almost to himself. “could watch this shit all day. you takin’ me so deep—beggin’ for it—and now look at you.”

“katsuki,” you said, voice small, your face burning now.

he leaned in, his mouth brushing your ear. “you got no idea what this does to me. how good you look with my cum leaking outta that pretty pussy.”

you whimpered, fingers gripping his arms to steady yourself, flustered beyond belief. you tried to hide your face against his neck, but he caught your chin, tilting your head back so he could see just how red your cheeks had gotten.

“aww,” he teased, grinning now. “you shy now? after you begged me to cum inside like a fuckin’ good girl?”

“katsuki,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

the teasing faded as soon as he saw your shiver. maybe it was the water cooling down, or maybe it was the aftershocks making your body tremble, but either way, katsuki's expression shifted. the heat in his eyes softened—still intense, but now threaded with something gentler.

“hey,” he said, brushing a hand over your soaked hair. “c’mere.”

you let him pull you close again, resting your head against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat grounding you. his arms wrapped around you protectively, one hand smoothing down your back as the water pattered around you both.

“you okay?” he asked, dipping his chin to meet your eyes.

you nodded, a little dazed, a little overwhelmed. “yeah. just… floaty.”

“mhm,” he leaned in, pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “stay here. let me take care of you.”

you blinked, looking up at him. “you’re gonna…?”

“yeah, dummy,” he muttered, though his thumb was gentle as it traced the curve of your jaw. “i made a mess. least i can do is clean you up.”

he reached for the body wash, pouring a little into his palm before lathering it gently between his hands. then he started with your shoulders, massaging in slow, careful circles. down your arms, your back, and over your hips, like he was memorizing every inch of you again—except this time it wasn’t about lust. it was soft, reverent.

“i didn’t hurt you, did i?” he asked quietly, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

you shook your head, voice barely above a whisper. “no. i liked it. a lot.”

a low sound rumbled in his chest, but it wasn’t cocky this time. it was something closer to relief. pride. love.

“good girl,” he said, pressing a kiss to your jaw as he lifted your arm to wash underneath it. “you tell me if anything ever does hurt, yeah? i don’t care how hot you think it is, i need to know.”

“i will,” you whispered, eyes fluttering closed as he rinsed you off, careful not to let the suds drip into your eyes.

katsuki crouched to wash your legs next, his hands warm and firm as they moved over your calves. when he reached the inside of your thighs, he hesitated—then looked up at you.

“you okay if i…?”

you nodded, cheeks still warm.

his touch there was gentle, as if washing away what was left of him inside you was a sacred task. when he was done, he stood and pulled you into his chest again, arms wrapped tight around your waist.

“we should do this more often,” you mumbled sleepily.

“the fuckin’ in my office part or the shower part?” he asked with a grin.

“both."

he chuckled low. “yeah, baby. me too.”

and then he just held you there, under the steady stream of water, hands slow and soothing as they traced lazy paths up and down your back. like he could wash away the world if you asked him to.

by the time he stood again and wrapped you in a towel, you felt like your bones had turned to honey. he dried you off with the same quiet focus, then pressed another kiss to your temple.

“let’s get you home,” he said, voice gruff but warm. and he carried you out of the shower like you were the most precious thing in the world.

he helped you into his car, his hand warm and firm against the small of your back as he guided you gently into the passenger seat.

you were still wrapped in his agency hoodie, legs bare beneath it, your damp hair tucked behind your ears. he didn’t say much on the drive—just kept his hand resting on your thigh, thumb tracing small circles, eyes flicking to you every so often like he couldn’t believe you were real.

you were sleepy, soft, and still buzzing from the high and the aftercare.you were already turning to say goodbye, your voice still soft from the come-down of everything, when he cleared his throat.

“wait.”

you looked up. he was rubbing the back of his neck, eyes suddenly everywhere but your face. for once, bakugo katsuki looked awkward. bashful, even.

“i’ll let you rest,” he muttered, lingering in the doorway like he didn’t wanna leave. "you need anything, you call me. don’t care if it’s three in the morning.”

you looked up at him, still flushed, still wearing that stupid little dreamy smile he’d put on your face.

“you staying?”

his eyes flicked down to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze. he looked like he wanted to say yes. but instead, he cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “nah. i want you to sleep."

he looked up at you, brows furrowing slightly like he was second-guessing whatever he was about to say. but then he exhaled through his nose, almost like a sigh.

“go out with me.”

your heart skipped. “huh?”

he scratched at the back of his neck, still trying to play it cool. “a real date. dinner. a movie—shit, nevermind, movies are stupid. a walk in the damn park. somethin’ that doesn’t involve us stripping in my agency’s damn shower.”

you blinked, then snorted. “we’re doing this backwards, y’know.”

“what?”

“we already slept together and saw each other naked in broad daylight, and now you’re asking me out?”

he gave you that grumpy little scowl—eyes glinting, jaw tight. “yeah, well, guess i figured i’d get the scary shit outta the way first.”

you grinned, stepping forward until your fingers hooked in the hem of his shirt. “bold strategy.”

“shut up.”

“i didn’t say no.”

his eyes flickered down to your lips, then back up. “so that a yes?”

you leaned in, kissed his cheek—soft and slow. “yeah. it’s a yes.”

for the first time in the past twenty-four hours, he didn’t have a smart-ass comment ready.

just a bashful smile with red ears, and the promise to pick you up friday at 7.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ part one ! ]

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ AHHHH i must confess i honestly hate doing part twos because im scared they'll never live up to the first one😭 im so happy i get more time to write now omgomg, i FINALLY might be able to clear my bazillion drafts teehee 😝 hope you guys enjoyeddd💗���

[kitasuno]

with you, i'm first | miya osamu x reader

in which miya osamu is used to coming second to his brother. but with you, he's always first.

wc: 1113 | gn!reader | fluff

Miya Osamu is used to coming second. 

It starts with Atsumu, like most things do. October is cold and gray and Atsumu comes first, a small body with a large presence that fills the warm hospital room. His cries are loud and he’s a little underweight, but with him comes the sun. 

Atsumu is born under a partly cloudy sky but the nurses swear he was shrouded in sunlight. 

Osamu comes twelve minutes later. His parents are crying and his Ma is close to passing out. If he thinks really hard he can almost feel her warmth, Atsumu’s sobs, and a mumble of prayers that October has safely brought Atsumu and then Osamu.

He asks Grandma one day what the weather was like when he was born. She says, with confidence, it was foggy.

Atsumu doesn’t get along with his classmates. He is too loud and too rash and lacks social cues, and Osamu is angry because Stupid ‘Tsumu cares too little: and he wants everyone to know Atsumu like he knows Atsumu.

They fight and they yell and they argue until Atsumu says, 

‘Samu, I don’t care about ‘em. Why do ya care so much? 

And Osamu throws him across the room. The argument ends there, he says sorry, and Osamu lies awake that night thinking about his brother. Atsumu is hotheaded. And an idiot. A loud snorer, too. But he turns on his side and curls into a ball because he knows it was sunny when Atsumu was born and all of a sudden he really wants to be his brother. 

Atsumu dyes his hair first: it’s a shitty box dye from the pharmacy down the street, and it looks terrible. It’s a little yellow and a little neon, and Osamu laughs until his sides hurt when Atsumu shows him. 

But Atsumu is proud, and he is confident, and he goes to school with a hundred watt smile and a group of girls trailing after him. 

Osamu goes to the pharmacy that night and buys a box of gray, cloudy dye. Atsumu helps him bleach his hair under their bathroom sink with the faulty tap and tells him he looks like the moon.

His Ma says that Atsu is hot and Samu is cold after the two have a particularly bad fight. Atsumu is gleeful and smug as he gloats that he was born to be hotter and warmer and better, and Osamu punches him. 

He remembers his Ma sitting on the porch, an arm around his shoulders as he pouts. 

“‘S not fair,” Osamu had said, his chin in his palm. “Why’d ya name Tsumu that?” 

His Ma had laughed, quietly, leaning her weight into his side. And she had held his cheeks between her palms and told him with a fire in her eyes that Osamu means To Rule. 

He meets you for the first time in February. 

You were standing in front of him, a little sheepish, with a box of chocolates in your extended palms. He remembers feeling something heavy in his chest. Because, yeah, Atsumu was definitely going to accept your confession. 

You had said, IReallyLikeYou, and Here’sSomeChocolates, and Please Accept Them. 

You were shorter than him, and your hair was done nicely, and you were blushing and nervous. And you were really fucking cute. But Osamu is used to coming second, so the only thing that comes out of his mouth is, Why? And then, Tsumu’s in tha next classroom ov’r. 

He doesn’t remember what happened next, only Atsumu’s laugh and the slap echoing through the halls. You leave with his cheeks stinging and hot. And Atsumu had teased him the next day, behind his mountain of chocolates and confessions, because Osamu’s face was still red twelve hours later. 

He sees you a lot the year after. 

You’re in the same class as him and ‘Tsumu, and you smile every time you see him. You sit two rows in front of him and you’re not very good at tying your uniform. Every lunch, Osamu watches you pull out the same gray bento with a wrapped onigiri on the side. He tells you one day that he really likes onigiri. And then, Osamu watches as every lunch, you pull out the same gray bento with two wrapped onigiris on the side. 

With you, it’s always Hi Osamu, first, and then, Hullo Atsumu. With you, it’s an onigiri dropped on his desk when the lunch bell rings. With you, Osamu thinks back to a conversation with his Ma on a porch. 

Osamu means To Rule.

The menu is this: Tuna mayo on Mondays and Thursdays, Ume on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Friday is plain. You don’t ever bring onigiri for his brother. 

He asks you, on a hot night in June, what your favorite type of weather is. You had your knees tucked to your chest, a sparkler in hand, and then told him cloudy. Cold. Foggy. Winter. Snow is nice, too. You say it all with no hesitation. 

Osamu kisses you for the first time that night. 

It’s New Years and you’re cooking Ozoni on the stove. The curtains are open, it’s snowing outside, and Osamu wakes to the smell of miso and the sound of carrots on a chopping board. He gets out of bed, padding to the kitchen with half-lidded eyes and a stifled yawn, and then he thinks his heart stops when he sees you. 

Because what Miya Osamu is not used to is this: coming first and having something unequivocally his. 

But you’re bent over the counter, fiddling with the oven as you read the instructions on the back of the packaged Yakimochi you bought the other day. And you’re wearing his shirt, it falls right below your thighs, your hair is still messy from using his chest as a pillow, and you look beautiful. 

“Mornin’ ‘Samu, come help me with this.” You say, looking back at him with a smile, pointing to the fresh pot of rice on the counter. “You’re in charge of onigiri.”

He hugs you instead, his arms around your stomach with your back to him. 

“But I like yer onigiri,” He says, his chin on your head. His eyes are watering and it must be from the steam of your boiling dashi. 

“‘Samu,” You complain, giggling as he presses kisses into the crown of your head. “I made enough for ya in high school.” 

It’s cold outside and snowing, and Osamu knows he’s going to make the onigiri. 

He also knows that if his name means To Rule, he’s okay with coming second if it means you’re by his side.

[tetsumie]

heyy when you have the time to do so, can i request college!suna x reader angst to fluff where reader tries to spend time with suna but they get into an argument where he decides to spend time with his athlete friend group but then feels guilty and make up with reader through heart to heart conversation? 🫶🏻sorry if this is so long i have no idea how to make the prompt shorter but honestly i love all the fics you post so idc if you change it up a bit just thought i’d give an idea

𝐅𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇

pairing: suna rintaro x gen!neutral reader

genre: hurt/comfort

content: you confront him about the growing distance in your relationship, something he's been dismissing for a while, until he finally grasps the seriousness of the situation

cw: suna is a bit harsh; arguments but they make up <3

a/n: hihi anon! ty for requesting and i hope it's to your liking :D i'm still accepting requests for my 1k event so feel free to send more into my inbox!

"it's like i never see you anymore!"

suna and you have been in this back and forth argument for what felt like an eternity and it's draining the life out of you.

suna has been preoccupied with the upcoming inter-collegiate volleyball tournament. as a starter on the prestigious division 1 ejp raijin volleyball team, the arduous practices and pressure have been taking a heavier toll than expected on him.

as a result of this, suna has been incredibly distant in your relationship. he was always gone before you woke up in the morning and didn't return until after you fell asleep. every time you tried to plan a date or suggest something to do together, he somehow always cancels. it's always, "sorry i have to run some extra drills. maybe another day?"

it's exhausting putting this much effort into your relationship when it all seems in vain.

you've tried bringing this up to suna before, mentioning how you would like to spend more time together. but suna, being suna, always brushed it off. but there's only so much dismissal you can take.

you really miss your boyfriend.

but you're not sure he misses you the way you miss him.

"y/n you can't expect me to drop everything for you! like fuck, i have a life outside of you," he exclaims, snapping you back to the current argument at hand.

"i didn't say that, rin."

"that's what you're trying to say," he replies, crossing his arms over his chest.

you shake you head, lowering your voice. "i know volleyball always has and always will be a top priority for you but i just wish... well, it would be nice if you could put a bit of effort into our relationship."

"what if i don't even want to anymore..." he mumbles under his breath as he walks to the closet, grabbing a coat.

the rage in your heart and mind now simmer down to a feeling of dread and heartbreak. what?

as he turns around, he sends an icy glare at you. you've never seen this side of him and you refuse to let him see you crumble apart in front of him. you refuse to break down right now.

"you don't want to what, suna?" you look at him, tone icy cold. "go on. tell me."

the heated environment is making his mind all cloudy and he wants to end this conversation now.

"you know what i mean, y/n. i'm going out. don't call me."

the door opens and slams shut.

the moment the door closes, you're completely still. you're running on autopilot. you find yourself making a cup of tea and sitting at the dining table, looking at the empty, lifeless apartment sprawled in front of you.

subconsciously, the tears started to roll. i guess that's it then. i think i better start packing my things. i should be gone by the time he comes back home.

meanwhile, suna makes his way downtown to the bar where some of his volleyball friends had invited him out for a couple drinks. he opens the door to the bar and he can hear the familiar rowdiness of his friends.

"well, well, well, if it ain't the infamous sunarin from ejp," a familiar blonde comes running to him. "been too long since i've seen ya stupid ass."

"yeah yeah whatever asshole," suna slaps the back of atsumu and nods over at osamu who's sitting on the table. "it's good to see you both."

as suna and atsumu head to the table in the back with the rest of his friends, his mind can't help but linger back to the argument that he had with you. but he decides to shake his mind off it.

he's here to have fun with his friends right now. not be worried about you.

"you didn't bring y/n tonight?" komori, suna's teammate, asks. "i haven't seen them in a hot minute. what've they been up to?"

what have you been up to? he doesn’t know. when was the last time we both had an actual conversation? he doesn’t know. he doesn’t even know what's been going on in your life lately. fuck this is what y/n meant.

he forces a smile, masking the bitter thoughts playing in his mind. "they're good. just doing their classes and stuff."

"ah right, well bring them by sometime! it's been too long since i've seen them. they never fail to light up the room with their presence."

"yeah you're right."

he nods, taking small sips from the beer in front of him.

as the conversation and chaos ensue among his friends, his mind keeps drifting back to the memories of the argument he walked out on. his mind has cooled off and a sense of guilt starts to take over his body.

here he is having fun with his friends while you're at home all alone, waiting for him. you just wanted to spend time with him and here he was, finding comfort in other people other than you.

he tries to remember the last time you both had gone out together but he's drawing a complete blank. he can't even remember the last time he's kissed you or held you in his hands.

no wonder you've been feeling so lonely.

and in response, he just kept brushing you off until you blew up today. and to make matters worse, he walked out of the argument giving you no sense of reassurance or closure on the matter.

at the realization, suna shoots up out of his seat with flushed cheeks. the group turns to him.

"i gotta head out for the night. i gotta see my baby."

"get a fuckin' room sunarin," osamu shouts. the rest of the groups howls in agreement. "see ya."

he waves goodbye and starts trudging his way back to the shared apartment. he expects to find you asleep so he can crawl into bed with you and cuddle, never intending on letting you go.

so you can imagine the surprise when he opens the door and sees the bedroom light on and hears rustling noises. "baby?" he calls out. "y/n?"

he takes off his shoes and coat and walks to the bedroom. he starts to internally panic at the sight in front of him.

you have a couple of suitcases out filled with your clothes and belongings. at a glance, he can see that your side of the closet is almost empty. you've even taken down a couple of the decor pieces in the room that you bought but he was never particularly interested in. with your headphones in, you’re focused on packing, but what breaks him the most is seeing you wipe your eyes as you do so. why are you even packing? where are you going?

and then it hits him.

not only did he make it seem like he didn’t want to make this relationship work, but his actions have been driving you away. fuck, this was bad. he didn't mean any of it. he has to fix it or he's gonna lose the best thing in his life for good.

he goes over to you and taps your shorted and you yelp, startled by the 6'2" man, hovering above you.

"what the hell are you doing?" suna asks, cocking an eyebrow at you.

you wipe your eyes. "i'm leaving."

"don't be ridiculous," he scoffs.

"ridiculous?" you laugh at the absurdity of his comment. "what's ridiculous is how you walk out of an argument not even wanting to work things out. what's ridiculous is how you just continue to put me aside like i’m some side piece."

he knows you’re hurting. and it’s all his fault.

he doesn’t know how to properly express everything he needs to say to you.

so in the heat of it all, he does what he thinks is the next best thing and kisses you.

you'd forgotten this feeling. his soft lips on yours and how they fit together just right. it's the softest kiss he's ever given to you and your heart swells at the gesture.

you pull away and you plop yourself on the floor to process what just happened.

right there and then, he looks at you. he really looks at you. he notices the way you have some baby hairs popping out and your cheeks feel warm from all that crying. he notices the way your eyes look slightly puffed out and the remnants of tears on your cheeks.

i'm the cause of this. this is all my fault.

"i’m sorry," he begins.

you sigh and look away mumbling to yourself. "you’ve said that before. it doesn’t change anything."

"and you’re right."

you look up at him, surprised by his admission. "w-what?"

"you’re absolutely right, y/n."

he crouches down to your level, resting his hand on your knee so he can look you in the eye.

"i shouldn't have made it seem i wasn't willing to put in the effort into making us work," he says, gesturing between you and him. "my actions and what i said to you a couple hours ago obviously made it seem that way and i'm an absolute dumbass for not picking up on it."

you’re silent. he searches your face, looking for any speck of emotion, but he still can’t read you. in the amount of time he's known you, you’ve always been the exception.

"i've been swamped with so much work lately and i know i need to do better. i spread myself so thin that i forgot to prioritize the things and the people that matter the most to me."

you're silent, unsure of what to say to him.

"i thought i was doing the best i could do until i realized i could be doing so much more for us and for you. i'm so sorry for not being here."

"i know rin," you whisper. finally, for the first time you look up from your lap to look at him. "it just felt like you didn't care about us anymore. you're the hardest worker i know but i just wish you were here sometimes."

"and i wouldn't be able to be that hard worker without your love and support, you know," his hand cups your cheek as he runs his thumb across the tear streaks on your face.

"i realize how absent i’ve been in our relationship lately and i can’t imagine how lonely you’ve been feeling. i want to make this relationship work with you. i know i suck at being sappy and shit but you really are my other half. no matter what it takes, i’ll make us work. i’ll fight for this relationship. i'll fight for us."

"oh, rin," you sigh and wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him in close for a hug. the tears begin to flow from your eyes.

he feels his eyes glaze over. he breathes in your familiar scent and feels a warmth he’s missed.

even after everything, you still love him.

he starts with a gentle kiss on your cheek, then starts peppering your face with soft kisses.

you let out a watery chuckle, making his heart skip a beat. he hasn't heard your laugh in forever and he swears to himself to never be the reason for your tears again.

"let's go to bed now baby. i've gotta cuddle away all the pain i've caused you."

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