BOMBSHELL | TEASER

THE TERRIBLE EGOIST — i.y

⛤ isagi yoichi x fem! reader

The popular football player rejected you and didn’t expect you to get over him so easily. If you liked him before he can get you to like him again.

cw. smut. unprotected sex. creampie(s). oral (f. receiving). jerk isagi. dub-con. rough sex. pet names (baby, pretty, princess). finger sucking. marking. overstimulation. multiple orgasms + mention of multiple rounds. pussy drunk isagi. college au. intoxication. mentions of alcohol. +18!

wc: 2.9k

Isagi yoichi was the biggest egoist of them all. His popularity of being the best football player on the team at a university he attends and of course his good looks that kept his reputation up and the girls in line. He couldn’t simply ruin that with having girlfriend or anything that had to do with dating. He had only one thing to be stressed about and that was football. Though it sure wasn’t a problem if he just had his fun.

He was use to it, rejecting girls because he wants to focus on his upcoming games and he had no time for relationships. That didn’t stop them from at least trying again once or twice, maybe more than that. No one could get over him, that’d be impossible in his egotistic mind. Even people are to be warned not to be messed with him because he would easily tell you he doesn’t do that kind of “stuff” after just him making out with you 30 seconds ago.

He’s not mean about it though, he wouldn’t tell you to straight up thats he’s just not interested in you instead he says it sincerely even though he knows what he’s doing and how to do it, letting them down easy he knows they always come back anyways. Isagi loathes in the feeling of being adored, if he could get it from his fans he can get it from somewhere else and a different audience. How else could he keep himself entertained with the ladies?

“I really do like you Isagi” Then there was a long pause when you waited for him to answer, he rubs the back of his neck and stares at the ground before he could give you the bad news.

“‘M sorry I don’t really do relationships, I just want to focus on my career and I don’t want ‘dating’ to get in the way of that..we can always be friends though?”

You were confused, you don’t get it? He was flirting and teasing you for weeks. You were hanging out a lot, people would’ve been convinced you both were dating. You never kissed or held hands but surely it had to be obvious. Your friends convinced you that he liked you back, no guy would act that way towards a girl he doesn’t like or wouldn’t want to take things further with? Was he just leading you on?

“Uh..yeah i understand...” you really didn’t, you wanted to ask him why but he would probably repeat what he just said.

Isagi sighs like he has not gone through many let downs and watch the disappointment of his victim. “No hard feelings?”

“Yeah..none”

Then it’s been a week since he hasn’t seen you. Usually they come back in a day or two in his book so why haven’t you? It shouldn’t stress him out about it, it’s just longer than he expected it to be. His stupid ego got the best of him and his way of thinking that he could have every girl begging on their knees for him.

Jealousy bites him in the back when he’s sees you talking to other guys especially the ones on his team, he shouldn’t be jealous? He doesn’t even like you, he’s the one who rejected you so why does it eat at him? He wasn’t focused on anyone but you not paying him no mind, he’ll walk by you expecting to connect eye contact but you’ll be chatting up with your friends like he doesn’t exist. Maybe he could try to get you to like him again to fill his ego, yeah that’s probably it. You guys never made out or had sex, that was maybe the problem and he just had to do that.

You slowly became irritated when he kept trying to talk to you though they were just failed conversations. You didn’t know why he was trying to talk to you and you were trying to avoid him, how else could you move on from him?

He invites you to a party for tonight as a start of a friendship he wanted to build with you hoping you weren’t still upset with him, your friends really wanted to go since his teammates would be there and you agreed taking a chance with Isagi. You had a gut feeling but you didn’t know whether it was good or bad, you just knew something was to come as he grins to himself when you said yes. A scheme he has planned behind his soft smile.

Isagi being an athlete, he wasn’t a drinker though he offered you one, another one, also two more. Honestly you stopped counting after the second. Perhaps it was the alcohol but you started to feel glad that you and Isagi come to an agreement to be friends. Maybe you were too harsh, maybe he genuinely wanted to be friends as you were trying to ignore him this whole time.

The way your hands started to feel clammy because he kept staring at you, you felt as if his gaze your burning into your skin, you felt nervous, rubbing your hands on your dress. Why are you feeling nervous? You don’t like him, well you used to. You tried to push the thoughts away that he is cute, no he was and isn’t still you don’t really like him? You wonder if it was just your drunken mind playing tricks on you or the feelings were coming back again and he can read you good.

“Don’t do that..” he tilts his head at you as if he were oblivious however he knows all too well. “Don’t do what?”

“You’re looking at me like...” you didn’t want to assume or flat out say it, you shrug because you didn’t know what to add on or decide not to jump to conclusions, Isagi laughs to himself.

He’s a good guy with no rude intentions, yet he’s leading you by the hand upstairs in a unoccupied room.

“Why are we in here?” You sat on the edge of the bed watching him shut the door behind him “it’s quieter for us” he sat right next to you, he didn’t leave space between you both he was so close his figure was towering over you and you can feel his body warmth emit on your arm. You don’t know why you didn’t ask him another question about you both here alone when the party is clearly downstairs.

His hand is rubbing your inner thigh, his fingers are carefully slipping up your dress and his lips softly brushes against yours so it wasn’t fully a kiss, you didn’t know if you should so you mutter “I thought we were friends now Isagi”

“We are..unless you like me now..?”

“I-i don’t know…” you rubbed your knees together

“We’ll see” he kisses you roughly, honestly he’s trying to at least bruise your lips. You try to take in as much breaths but he doesn’t allow you to, his tongue blocking your airway in your mouth and your breathing heavily through your nose.

As he’s basically consuming you, his hand that was placed in your inner thigh moved towards to your covered pussy. Your hands grasp his arm to stop his fingers massaging your folds through your underwear. When his lips began attacking your neck you whine out his name when you start to feel the heat increase throughout your body, you felt you were gonna melt.

You smelt good as he placed wet kisses on your neck, sucking lightly on your skin leaving colored hues and moved onto another blank space of your skin he could mark. Isagi never thought it’d be easy to get you here, he might’ve thought wrong that you’d be difficult to get you where he needed you to be and he’s only kissing your neck and playing with your pussy behind your panties.

He presses lightly on it and you let out a shattered breath “Right here?” And he starts to rub your clit in circular motion. If you were sober without an drop of alcohol you probably wouldn’t let Isagi have his way with you, but you’re moaning under your breath, your jutting your hips against his hand, your eyes fluttered when he reaches under you rubbing the outside of your cunt.

Your mind getting slightly fuzzy you decided to fall onto your back on the soft bed when you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore. “Come on baby you can’t give up on me now” he takes off your shoes before he climbed onto the bed to spread your legs open.

“I can’t” you shake your head though you’re not kicking back to stop, you let him feel up your sides because his touch is warm and made you feel good, it had to be the alcohol lingering in your system or your feelings for Isagi are starting to come back even though you were helping yourself get over him before you came to this party “I just want you to like me princess” sounding sincere when he places a quick kiss on your lips, he lifts up your dress over your stomach to pull your panties down your hips and off your legs.

He’s caressing your thighs, riling you up and pampering kisses between your inner legs his face drawing dangerously close to your bare pussy. His hands push your thighs nearly to your stomach, giving you a peck on your cunt and the warm wet muscle ghost over your cunt making your breathing harder than it should be.

It was like he was making out with your pussy, his lips and tongue burying deep in your pussylips, his arms were locked around your thighs so you couldn’t pull away, you could only move your lower legs and you writhed on the bed in bliss and constantly moaned his name. “Ah! Isagi!..hah!” You could be as loud as you wanted because the music was loud enough to hide your pathetic whines.

Your hands grip the sheets underneath you until his tongue flicked your clit, sucking on it slow your hand reaches for his dark hair, your fingers tangling through his locks at the top of his head. “Oh-my g-ah!…” you sputtered, he’s still eating you out like a hungry man.

He’s lost into licking and sucking on your sweet pussy, your fingers tugging on his hair and moaning his name is making his dick hard, he’s growing amusement of his licks that are long and slow, dragging up on your clit and his lips wrap around it. Your hips are moving up and down, grinding on his face. If he could have you sit on his face he would but he needed you to cum, cum on his lips.

You started to become more squirmy when you feel your cunt twitch and your clit burning to cum when he sucks harder. Your hand through his hair tightening and your moans were becoming high pitched.

You rolled your head back moaning his name when you feel yourself cum on his mouth, his lips wouldn’t detach from your fluttering pussy and continued to use his mouth until he was ready to be done. After a bit though he didn’t want to work you up on another orgasm so he halted himself from eating you further more.

“You taste so good princess y’know that?” He comes up on top of you and to offer you a sloppy kiss whilst he’s unbuttoning his pants to pull out his hardened cock. You brought your hands behind his neck to keep kissing you more, the taste of yourself lingering on his tongue. you were already defeated when you first came into this room and you let him feel you up, you wanted to beat yourself up for it but you’re too dazed out of your mind to care, kissing Isagi now when you never got to before, you just wanted him in the moment.

Isagi gave himself a couple strokes, he opens your legs for more entry and with no warning your tight walls are being pushed aside by his cock when he slowly sheaved himself in, you gasp loudly by the disturbance of his dick intruding your pussy. Your breathing was shaky and Isagi hisses when you grip him tight and didn’t bother giving you a chance to process his dick inside you when he starts his hungry thrusts.

“Isagi-”

“Sorry princess..i gotta fuck you now” he was so harsh and fast, he was bullying you. The egoists cock was rubbing so relentlessly in your pussy, you’re moaning so much and each time he makes sure he slams his cock deep. He squeezes your tits and he wasn’t soft with them either, he was kneading them in his hand like hard dough.

“I can’t believe you’re letting me fuck you and here I thought you didn’t like me anymore..do you like me now? I know you do” you didn’t have to say yes, he already answered for you, you were too overwhelmed to speak though you could whine with your fingers slightly over your mouth so you could breathe.

He moves your hand out of your face as his thumb slips between your lips into your mouth, the pad of his thumb pressing down on your tongue. “That’s it baby suck on it” your lips wrap around his thumb just like how he had demanded.

You hummed with his thumb in your mouth, batting your pretty eyelashes at him and he grits his teeth with his stamina rising even more from the way you look at him, like you were purposely doing it to get him to fuck you even harder like as he was pounding into you anyways. He couldn’t let you get to him, it had to be the other way around.

“Looking at me like that pretty?-ah!” His cock jerked inside, knowing he was about to release his cum the more he constantly pushed his dick in and out of you. His jaw hung open, panting and moaning when he feels his nerves on fire. As you were about to touch yourself he rubbed your clit with his wet thumb that was settling in your mouth so you both can cum together.

“‘m gonna cum! ‘m gonna cum Isagi!” Isagi is so rough with you, him adding onto more to build your orgasm intensively circling your sweet bud.

Shock takes over his face when your legs wrap around his waist and you pleaded him “please cum inside me! Please Isa-!” Did you just beg him to? He was going to anyway though he didn’t expect you to practically be desperate for it that your legs are secured around his waist. Fuck, why did his heart just sink?

“Y-yeah, I’ll cum right in you, just for you princess” he growled, his last thrust he sunk deep into your spasming walls and his pushed down on your clit. Your eyelids twitched feeling his cum empties in your womb, your body quivered, it felt like stars were floating everywhere around you. “‘ts feels good..f-feels ‘s good” you whined.

Isagi bit his bottom lip gazing at your pretty tired face, This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, he couldn’t keep up his ego anymore. He grew hard again and the only thoughts running through his head was wanting to fuck you again.

How long has it been? Two, four rounds, more? Both your bodies would completely stripped off of clothes, sweat mixing together that his hair was slightly damp. The music still booming loud as ever outside meaning people were still here which you both had completely forgotten since you were both gone into drowning in pleasure. Isagi is still in between your legs, pounding into your swollen pussy that had a brimful of his cum because he came so many times like he was still a starving caveman needing more.

Isagi is so deep into your pussy he forgot what was his motive the whole time, you’re mewling for him to stop but damn you look so pretty, why did he reject you again? He couldn’t even remember anything before he got into this room with you because of the delight of your hot cunt had him hooked. His arms beside your head as he watched you cry from the sensitivity of your previous orgasms he drew out of you. His heart fluttering in his chest when you wrap your arms around his neck and whimper his name.

You both couldn’t think correctly but just thinking about how much it feels like heaven and the need to cum again.

“‘m about to cum again Isagi!” You repeated again before, He nodded while he was also cum again and damn he was so out of energy of pulling orgasm after orgasm, his breaths were shattered, his thrusts were sloppy. His tongue hanging from his mouth like he had fight to finish. “‘m cumming too-fuck!” Another addictive feeling washing over you both at the same time, once again he gives you another bundle of his cum.

Isagi finally caught his breath and noticed your leg’s couldn’t stop trembling. “F-fuck Isagi, I’m shaking…” you murmured. His stomach was in knots and not because he had just came but he was going against his own rules he made up the beginning. His evil scheme had failed when he came down to kiss you again but it was softer, didn’t bother pulling out, he rose back up with straight up determination in his eyes.

“Be my girlfriend..”

YO I LOST THIS BLOG WHEN I LOOKED AWAY AND NOW I CANT FIND IT

Its like the avatar boys in a high school setting and they confess to reader or visa versa if you find it plsssss tag me or send it my way

Also the person page was talking about basketball aonung or something like that

I didn’t even finish it man😫

A World For Her Alone | Ptolemaea

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15

cw (chapter specific): pregnancy, childbirth, dubcon, death, the aftermath of severe abuse, slavery, derealization (?), the general ennui of noble marriage

pairing: claude x fem!reader

summary: Men! Don't they always think of "the one that got away"?

author's note: Girlfail Barbie and Catholic guilt ken or whatever the kids are saying idk.

When he returned to life again, he was haunted by a fervor to change things. He was a desperate animal caught in a trap, biting his own limb in a bid to escape. He’d languished too long in the inevitable misery that befell him again and again and again. This time, he told himself again, it would be different. He considered readying a horse to come and warn you about this thing that had overtaken him but there were obvious flaws in the plan such as; what if he saw Diana and was besotted again before he had the chance to tell you everything? Even if he succeeded what was he to say to you? What would you be able to do that you had not already attempted? How could you break this hold? What would your knowledge of his predicament mean against something that felt so primordial, something that compelled him to kill you?

What measure could be taken to change this? The last few minutes before he would have to bring himself to truly live this life, he spent at his desk, resigned to writing a missive.

For some reason, this life’s distinctions were more prominent. Firstly, it felt like reality was itself melting, sliding off its center to be remolded around him in the blink of an eye like candle wax. There were times where he forgot that his body wasn’t his own, that he identified with that darkness that puppeteered his body with grotesque ease. Things in that life had an unreal quality to them as if a fever dream he’d soon wake from. The horror of this life was softer, it was brighter, sweeter. He no longer begged for mercy, he only phased into the void that had become him deeper and deeper until he could no longer claim the pain he experienced as his own. He fell in love with Diana again, everything was wrong but he gave himself to the faltering, glitching reality that provided his distraction.

Had he only imagined it or had you become close with your sister in this life? It was unthinkable to him that you would, remembering all the pain she had caused you, still seem to love and look after her. It was a gesture that horrified him, the depths of your magnanimity, your forgiveness were hard for him to handle. Where was the rage you were due? Where was the lady he’d known before? Where had that livid and mournful glint in your eyes, like the silver pommel of the kitchen knife he’d nearly stabbed you with, that had appeared the life after your daughter had been born? Its sudden disappearance was an omen, he was convinced. Now, your eyes were soft as a saint’s, it was a sweet look of righteous suffering. Yours was the look of a martyr.

He was too late to save you, that look told him as much. You were a woman going to into the flame, worn and deprived of her fight; of the vicious urge for retribution. You were the dregs of a woman, bent to the shape of the realities you’d inhabited. Bent partial to Diana. This peace between sisters had come at a cost he would only live to know in your next life. 

You tutored Diana, persistently, pushing her to learn more always. You two spent a great deal at each other’s sides and Claude was aware that even though in previous lives, you’d suffered criticism for not being close enough with your sister; now you were seen as an overbearing older sister pushing her poor, helpless little sister to always do more. He could not really grasp at reality strong enough to muster more outrage at the world which now seemed to be a mindless chorus, for their hypocrisy. Curiously, though, his greater self was pleased at your conduct and ignored the slanderous chatter. The darkness was sated by your concern for your sister and it thanked you by not making efforts to exclude you, he was still flirting with Diana quite openly, to be sure, but it was much less careless. It felt more as if the two of them were not hiding, not rebelliously defying, but expressing themselves easily before you, knowing that your bite had gone soft, your eyes like that of the rest of their world; understanding how important Diana was.

As the date of your wedding approached, something bad was going to happen. He felt it or perhaps he heard it whispered in the static of a reality which was falling down on top of him all the time. It sat in the pit of his stomach, an anxious ache that never soothed, a wound he could feel festering even when the rush of love for Diana flooded his careworn mind. 

Days before your wedding, he was informed that you’d run away. A strange sort of grief did come over him by way of his false heart, his greater self almost seemed to mourn you. To him, and the distinction between his two selves in that moment had never been clearer, it felt as though you’d betrayed him. You’d made him care for you, if only in the slightest and most shallow way possible and then you vanished. You promised to marry him, to make a good wife to him, marchioness to his people and mother to his children. You smiled in his face each time you met and spoke to him with clear affection but you abandoned the future the two of you had painstakingly prepared with years of effort. Like he was nothing. Like the unspoken understanding, the ease that had been built was nothing at all. It disoriented this vast, arrogant creature, it felt to this monstrous part of him like trickery, like deprivation. 

His true self knew that this was not the bad thing he’d anticipated. If it were, the seed of anxiety planted in his mind would have finally given way to the deeper misery he knew was to follow and set him free of his fearful, agonizing waiting. But he was still wound tightly, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. You running away from him was not the bad thing; what fate would make you pay for it, was. He had seen this part before, he knew it ended in blood. So he hoped, at least, you got to run quite far before it did. Before reality closed around its status quo again.

Out of obligation and the longtime investment made from his family to yours, he needed to marry a lady of your house. Since you were gone, it fell to Diana to fulfill this duty. This life, Diana had been educated suitably enough to be a marchioness, for theirs not to be an ill-fated marriage for the territory. Claude realized that this must have been by design, it was your insistent effort that led to her being educated so efficiently. He’d heard talk of you seeming to bully her with how much you pushed her to learn. This was your design. You had always planned to run and leave the two of them to what the fates clearly wanted to happen. Although it was an ache in his chest that you were gone, the more pressing feeling was a forlorn emptiness at the fact that he knew how it would end and he could do nothing to stop it.

On the day he married Diana, it was bright and cloudless, surely indicative of the sort of marriage he was to have with her. Her cheeks were flushed with the enduring surprise of being able to marry him but also with surpassing happiness. But did he only hallucinate a crow flying swiftly across the pale morning sky, casting a shadow on them briefly? He could not know. He retained little of his wedding to Diana. After all, it was a frightening thing, this end. This thing he’d been fighting for so long had caught up to him, it had won, or it would in time. It felt like he was further trapped in a labyrinth where before he could at least the see the sky above, now he was completely hidden in the belly of the beast with no end in sight. Everything was Diana. Everything always would be. 

The defiling of his will and dignity would be ritual, it would dutiful and nightly. It would loving and soft. It would give him the very precious heirs his people counted on him to provide. It would make a mother of Diana, something she had so desperately wanted as he recalled. In time, he was sure to soften to the ordeal, his despair would only be monotonous, dull, unable to rip open any wounds due to the scar tissue of all his lives prior. This was marriage, he kept telling himself. This was marriage. 

Even so, a peculiar thing did happen: Claude had a group of his knights search for you for as long as fiscally reasonable. For two years, he had his knights span out following possible traces of your existence. It was not his own will, his own words that left his mouth but it was so different from everything this thing that puppeteered him had done before. It had showed you sparse concern even when it was in regards to his heir, the thing that should have come before anything. But now, he found that he demanded his knights search for your whereabouts with ease long after your family gave up the pretense. He did so not out of a fervent desire for revenge, the fury of one who had been robbed of something, it was done out of a sort of grief. A sort of desperation to hold to a woman who disappeared into thin air, to reach through the distance and claim the answers you denied.

Claude’s marriage to Diana in the meantime, was not as he imagined the fates would have it be. Of course there was love and affection, of course there was even a constructed desire within him and of course he suffered it inwardly. But there was something that haunted both of them too, a ghost slipped between them always. A ghost who functioned like a scary story for children, whose name being spoken accidentally was just enough to breathe life back into her, just enough to allow her to haunt them. At first, Diana told him that perhaps you had someone you ran away to be with and even his body in the cold hands of his greater self, rejected the notion. He wondered what could ever have given her such an idea, that a woman so meek and truly devoted would have been having an affair. Even that time you left with your knight he didn’t truly believe there was anything between you, it was a desperate measure to escape just like this time. He almost seemed to recoil from her when she spoke of it, it was nothing more than a subtle shift in the air, in his expression but for the first time, Diana seemed to have noticed it even if she did not acknowledge it with words. The message was clear from his expression, the change in tone and the sudden tepidness between them; your escape was to be a sore subject.

It changed the dynamic between them a bit but being married had also done that well enough. Diana was a marchioness who had a certain countenance to keep up, work to do and places to go. She was no longer the vulnerable, tender, helplessly ill girl who begged him to be her reason for continuing on. She now had purpose of her own. None of this displeased his greater self too severely but it did change things between them. No longer were they truly knight and princess. They lived in the real world now as Marquis and Marchioness. It was not like it was with you but it was…changed. A sense of duty settled within her, he got the feeling. She walked with her head higher, her emotions that were once vibrant and expressive on her face were dimmed to a polite mask of a half smile. It was bizarre to see her so grown up.

The ritual degrading practice of lovingly bedding the wife who shouldn’t have been his, seemed to have an odd effect on him this time around. Where before he was able to separate himself, he felt this time he fell deeper into the reality of his situation the longer he was married to Diana. Each time he lay back onto the bed, skin tacky with both their sweat, he was able to physically feel the horror that came with the long line of years that would stretch out between them. Each time he returned to reality enough to feel the result of having just been inside her, he was hit with dread as if time could never dull it. Where before he could only consider the implications of the freshly committed betrayal of you and of his own mind, now he could see a greater picture being painted. This was to be his life from then on, laying back onto his side of the bed with a relieved sigh and cuddling her close speaking of children to be born. While inside, he ceaselessly clawed at the walls, a mad prisoner no longer considering freedom an option, desiring death.

And in those moments, he also thought of you. He thought of where you’d gone. A long time had passed and a long time would pass before you’d see him again. He wondered whether you were living happily somewhere, could it be? Could it really not be that you were somewhere happily living even if just until the blade swinging deftly above your head finally fell? He was the most desperate of men and he imagined it as if a fairytale, a lullaby to take him into a fitful sleep before he would wake and live a life circling around the very tarnishment of both your souls. 

At some point he had slipped somewhere. His manner with Diana, although loving to be sure, was whetted to a slight sharpness. It was a strange nuance that he had only realized after years of marriage passed by with him gone inward to your memory. A chill had come to the marquisate that no fire would warm. It started in a small way, in your name slipping out every so often when he spoke of Diana whilst she was not in his presence. It was forgivable, no one spoke ill. But…it progressed to thoughts of you that were shared with his greater mind. A peculiar thing that shook him free of the derealization that came with this sort of monotony in misery. He realized that his thoughts came in one stream, instead of parallel and distinctive. He realized that above his own heart aching, the one that beat for Diana stung for…for something he had once and now could have no more.

Diana seemed to know. Your ghost was no longer benign, you were an active member of the household. Everyday, at some point as he and Diana spoke, he got the sense that she wanted to broach a topic but couldn’t, out of some fear that even speaking of it would harden it to truth. Some insecurity she desperately wanted him to soothe was instead locked away, tamed in fear that it could only be confirmed. It was as if mentioning you at all was a taboo. Claude parsed the difference between this Diana and the ones who came before when he was about the enter the library but heard voices.

“Madame, is it really okay to leave things like this?,” sounded the voice of one of Diana’s servants. The woman had a habit of forming such inappropriate bonds, the two became friends when Diana entered the marquisate as its new mistress. She would have known such a friendship would be unseemly but even so, it was hard for a woman such as Diana to live as a marchioness, beneath a mask as all noblewomen did, without someone she needn’t bother using it with. Claude had not been able to deny her that much. 

Claude had paused in the hall when he heard the voice of Diana. He knew why he’d done so, for once, his minds were in tentative agreement. He had come there to think, to be alone with your memory. That day was the anniversary of your disappearance and he wanted to ask the definitive question again and again, until he could put it to rest for the next time. Diana could not be there for his mourning, he did not want her there, more than that. His still heart did love Diana very much, such had not changed, but this time, you were not so easily forgotten. A stain on his heart that should not be there…he knew his wife would see it in his demeanor, his brooding expression and no matter how many times she’d tried to ignore the poignance of the date, it always revealed itself to be stark and imposing.

Diana replied to the servant in a rather genuine tone, “He is a wonderful husband. He has done nothing worthy of reproach.”

Something kept him listening, he could not parse what because his greater self was too busy considering the words that had been, were being and would be spoken between the two women. 

“It is…unseemly, for a married man to cling so much to a memory.” The maid sounded as if she wanted to use a word more derogatory than just “unseemly,”

“It cannot be helped,” Diana sighed. “She was his fiancee for much of his life, of course he is still devastated, compared to how long they’ve known each other, the wound is still fresh.”

“Even so, he has you, Madame. Why does he sulk and think of a woman who left him, ran out on him days before their wedding when he has a woman who has loved him faithfully?”

“Don’t ever speak that way, Maude. She is my sister, she is not some random noble you can insult carelessly,” Diana said, with as much sharpness as her voice could carry. “In any case…it is not so simple.”

“Forgive me for speaking out of turn but I fail to understand why it is not simple.”

“It cannot be simple. He is grieving. He and I wed so soon after, before he was able to gather his bearings, even. He may love me more than he ever loved my sister but it is still a loss of something I cannot replace. Who I am as his wife is entwined with that grief as a matter of course, it is simply the star our marriage fell under.”

“Have you ever considered confronting the lord, Madame? Forgive me again for saying so, but I just…after what you found, I don’t believe this is as it seems.”

He could hear the weak smile in Diana’s voice, the suddenly infused lightheartedness. “Oh, I could never do that. Then he’d known I was poking my nose where I shouldn’t have been and even so, I still don’t completely understand what it could mean. Whether a confession or something else, I don’t understand what his intentions were. I…I’m comfortable with never understanding if it means I never have the chance of finding a more unsettling thought beneath.”

“Madame…,” The maid’s voice sounded helpless and full of pity which struck an odd chord within him. A hatefulness unearned, small and weak to be sure but definitely present. At the same time, his heart sunk. He knew all at once exactly what she’d found, what gave her this wariness aside from his small actions. A fractured piece of reality appeared again as if it had never been missing, with the seamlessness of a dream. The letter…it seemed worlds away, it genuinely shocked him to hear what he thought was a reference to it. It hit him as if he’d heard her casually mention she’d been killed a few times over. And there was that pinprick of anger toward her for even knowing about such a thing, from both parts of him for different reasons. For telling her maid and garnering pity that should by rights go to the lost sister whose family had not even looked for her for longer than a month. In his greater self’s mind, for tainting the relief he was capable of feeling when he looked to her even more than it already had been with this. He could not even remember what he’d said but he knew it was something she should not know, it felt so viscerally wrong for her to have read words meant for your eyes. And undoubtedly, though he knew not what words he wrote, he cursed his love her in some manner. 

But he took a deep breath and walked away before she could find him eavesdropping and bring it up to him. Something had….changed, he felt. Irreparably so. There was a certain synchrony between his two selves in a way there had never been before and something between he and Diana had shifted because of it. More noticeably this time, there was distance. 

Diana found that she was pregnant with their first child soon after and there was as much apprehension in him as there was joy. Reality glitched all the time for him during the pregnancy, memories of you, of her, of previous lives intruded on his senses. Something about her being with child frightened him. His vision was often intercut with visions of the past, of your body, slowly seeping blood and still warm while the wails of your daughter fell on deaf ears. He heard Diana’s anguished crying, giving birth to a son who wasn’t certain to live. This foreboding and regret did not extend to his greater self who found other reasons to feel a note of fear at the thought of having a child with Diana. There was a desperation in that part of him, to make things right again, to make them what they’d been before when they were only illicit, courtly lovers. And even still, he knew it would not be. He could pray as much as he liked, he knew that for however loved and wanting this child would be, he would still be reminded of a future he’d lost with you.

Why was he still so concerned about you when you were not the woman he loved? He could not shut the door on your memory not matter how much he wanted to. Was it as Diana said? Was it because he’d known you so longer? He couldn’t think so. It was not like him to be sentimental because of time. Perhaps, he thought, it could be because of how you behaved in the year before you ran away. You treated Diana with a special kindness, you turned a blind eye to the obvious love between them and you ran away just short of your own wedding knowing that she’d…she’d had to marry him in your stead…You had done it on purpose. You had primed her to wed him, you knew what they had and you made it possible by abandoning your whole life. That revelation filled him with some unknown mixture of feelings that he could not stand. It was always to be a thorn in his heart, he would always remember who he owed this life to. And how could he be happy with that as he should be? How could he be happy not knowing why you allowed it to be and where you had gone now? How could you grant such an act of selflessness and disappear? You clearly didn’t want to be found. Why?

The more he thought of you, the more ennui he felt with his life with Diana. Their marriage was haunted by the shadow of your sacrifice. The day his child was born, a daughter, it was a night just like the one where your parents informed him you’d run away. Again his apprehension surpassed his joy when Diana went into labor, he’d paced anxiously outside in the hall listening to her sounds of pain while he looked out the window at the moon which hung in the sky like a being in its own right, watching him apathetically. He tried to get your memory out of his system before his daughter came into the world. He just…he just wished for that moment to be theirs alone. When their daughter was born, healthy and crying loudly from the terrible newness of the world, Diana held her to her chest, crying soft tears of her own at the newness of motherhood. Although his happiness was great, it was edged in something that could not be ignored, something which he felt tainted the moment in some way. He thought again on the night you disappeared and again asked himself where you could be, what you could be doing, did you have children of your own now? Somehow, he hoped you did. It would hurt him badly to know you had children with another man, love or no love between he and you, but he still wanted you to have that much. But that wasn’t the thought that truly cemented the fact that he and Diana would never have a moment that belonged to them again. It was actually the fact that when he first set eyes on his daughter, he looked for your face in hers.

He was glad Diana had been looking down at their daughter at that moment, perhaps if she’d looked up just then, she’d have caught a glimpse of that yearning in his eyes. He cried and thanked her for giving him a child, making him a father and it was genuine gratitude but the tears, the tears were for what was lost and what was left of you which endured. And inside, he dwelled in anguish because what remained of his true self was further broken, disillusioned by the fact that this child that he so pitifully wanted to avoid, had been born. She would live, her name written in his family registry, raised with careful hands and more love than most. She would live well and your child, he one who knew she’d lost you and had the only sensible reaction to it, her name was yet unknown. 

As the years passed, Claude and Diana settled into life as parents. He realized that what Diana expected of him as a father simply didn’t come naturally, he was not an overtly affectionate person in general for anyone but Diana. This did not compute to her, and of course it didn’t, with her having your parents excessive favor and then with the underlying hair thin cracks in their marriage. She required his gestures to be grander, she required more assurance of his love. So, he got more comfortable with it for her sake, he made his affection more theatrical for her, though it felt more like wearing a different mask more than it felt like actually changing who he was. He didn’t exactly know how to be a father, his own wasn’t much of an example, he felt awkward and clumsy with it on his own but he knew how to emulate with the best of them. As was necessary for life as an aristocrat. This had the inadvertent effect of raising his daughter feeling less personal, less of a bond. It felt more like everything else in his life as a nobleman did, false and procedural. And there was the fact that both his selves were reminded of you when they looked at her, inevitably, even if only for a split second each time. One side reminded of what once was and one side reminded of what could have been. 

Luckily, the child was much like her mother and did not comprehend the difference. She was young yet, and still he feared she would not go to him, that she’d cry and fuss in his arms, rejecting him instinctively. Sometimes, Claude felt worried that one day when she was older, she’d look to him for comfort, so he would put forth his best image but she’d see something in him that would tell her how false he was. But it never happened, the child slept easy in his arms and though Diana pouted a bit, she was amused her daughter was a daddy’s girl just as she was. Everything was alright, especially compared to some very frigid noble marriages he’d hear gossip about before. It seemed that the two of them had reached a mutual, unspoken agreement. They’d never talk about what they lacked, they’d take consolation in what they had managed to keep even if it wasn’t what it used to be. 

They went on like that. The time passed quickly, reality seemed to melt, not with hard glitches but the lines blurred together. It got to the point where he felt that the date of your disappearance was not years past but minutes ago. He felt as though he were in the night trailing after you, shouting your name just as much as he felt like an ordinary father with the wife he coveted for so long. His body vibrated with a dull hum and at night when he laid beside Diana to sleep, lights flashed beneath his eyelids as if a candle were lit before him. He would come home and hold his daughter in his arms and still feel as though his breath would come out in a puff from the cold, feel as though something had only just been taken. Every so often the child he held felt foreign to him. He could not even recognize which side of him the feeling belonged to, he was not sure it mattered now. Perhaps this was the real end. Maybe you’d gotten away happily and it was his punishment this time to never feel what he should even when he had what he wanted. He could accept that much, he thought with more peace than he deserved in the delusion. 

Of course it was when he accepted the idea of living without you that he came back. A messenger was sent, hesitant to relay the information that Felix and a few of his comrades had been tracking your whereabouts independently from the orders of your parents. You’d been found, barely alive, trapped in an establishment of very ill repute, worked as a slave. 

This news was enough to devastate and selfishly relieve him. You were alive. You had been worked nearly to death. You were supposed to have lived well enough, perhaps a simple, rustic life as a merchant’s wife with children born of love always at your skirts. “Will she live?” His voice broke. 

The messenger shook his head. “We don’t know, my lord. We only know that the count and countess are receiving her soon.”

Claude almost didn’t bother telling Diana, rushing to find a servant to have a horse prepared so that he could ride there and see you for himself. Until he was met with Diana who entered the room, seeing her family’s sigil on the sleeve of the messenger and he had to tell her. Yes, that was right…It was Diana who’d lost more than he had when you left. Of course it was necessary to tell her first. Somehow, it disappointed him to not be able to see you alone. To know that inevitably, Diana would want to see you and she’d bring along their daughter whom she couldn’t be without. All manner of frenzied feelings were passing through his greater self but prominently, there was a distinct, selfish desire to see you again. A thought that perhaps it would fix everything that has been wrong with him since you ran away. And concurrently ran the sharp anguish of his inner self which had awakened from its comfortable misery. Again in this life, you had suffered for his sake. He could not seem to stop stealing your life again and again and again. What had been done to you? What had you suffered while he raised a child that wasn’t yours? Deprived of your status and kept as a slave; oh, the image his mind had painted from what he knew of such things from his knighthood was a grotesque one. You, who had already been stripped of everything several times over, deprived even of the safety in your noble status. The only thing that made being born to such a family as yours, tied to such a fate as his more bearable, that you’d not be subject to all the cruelties of the world, only the ones he could inflict. 

Diana’s eyes grew large and clouded over as he told her what news had arrived. He stiffened at this, hypocritically suspicious of her concern. He felt a pinprick of annoyance at her, remembering now, the time she’d suggested you’d have been the type to run away with a lover. He felt the briefest urge to shame her, he hoped for a second that she’d remember it too as he had and be ashamed. It faded quickly and it stung but he couldn’t be bothered to scold himself for it. The more important issue at hand was your life. Diana spluttered, “My sister has been found? Where is she now?” She, perhaps not the most dutiful sister, did show at least this much love for you. In her eyes, he could see the resolve to see you again despite a slight troubled look in them. She was ready to go wherever you had. Claude’s careworn, lovesick heart softened some and instead of answering her, he simply called out to a passing servant to ready the carriage, for they were going to the manor of his in-laws right away.

Diana woke up their daughter from her nap and the three of them made their way your parents’ manor where they awaited your return after so many years. Your parents tried to take pains to greet him formally, to reach for their grandchild but he waved them off rudely. “Where is she?”

Your mother flinched, pulling away, embarrassed to have been snubbed so brashly by him. “She’s being brought here by the knights, they’ve not yet arrived but they should return shortly.”

Diana’s brow furrowed at her mother’s disposition. Something about the situation had apparently unsettled her but she said nothing in regards to it. Claude had the urge to tell her, “Look closely at the woman you know to be your mother, does she look worried at all about your sister? Look at your father, too. Does he seem as you imagine we would if we located the dying body of our daughter after she’d been missing nearly a decade?” He wanted her to see them as they were even if it were too late for it to matter. He wanted her to see who favored her, what sort of people loved her, a wretched murderer, a philanderer, a careless woman. He wanted her to wonder what it said about her that she’d be loved by them.

You arrived shortly as your parents probably prayed so that they’d not have to deal with more questions and the suspicious look in their only true daughter’s eyes, the disillusionment. Felix brought you up your old bedroom, he’d gone up to have the servants ready it for your arrival, overseeing their work anxiously to make sure it was made comfortable enough for a woman of an unknown level of severe illness and injury. Diana had wanted to follow him up to help but he’d, gently as he was capable of in such a situation, had her wait downstairs under some thin guise in relation to their daughter. He’d not wanted to be around them then, as the time grew nearer to seeing you again. 

When Felix brought you upstairs, he stood at attention from the corner where he sat anxiously looking about your room. You had large bruises up and down your body, you were filthy with blood caked under your nails and on the side of your head clinging to brittle hair, you were bandaged here and there in haste. He made a small sound of anguish and surprise, for it was one thing to be told you were near death, another thing to see it, smell it, feel it radiate off of your body. You were decaying even as you drew breath. Felix’s gaze lifted to Claude unabashedly hateful for a moment as he realized he was in the room but quickly flickered back down to you. Claude pulled back the covers on the bed for Felix to set you down and called for the doctor in a voice that betrayed a stifled sob. 

The doctor did as he could for you under the somber watch of Claude but even so, you remained unconscious. He didn’t leave your side, praying for you to open your eyes at least, even if just briefly. Even if just to damn him. Even if you were doomed as the doctor seemed to believe. He’d said you were almost certain to die, that it was a matter of making you comfortable, an offense which had gotten him a verbal lashing from Claude even though he knew it was most likely the truth. Diana hesitated to bring their daughter up the room, knowing your body’s fragile condition and the very apparent air of death that surrounded had already frightened her, she came to see you later when she put their daughter down. 

She loomed over your body, trying to find somewhere to touch you, to let you know she was here with you but everywhere was marred and she drew her hand back with a horrified look from seeing you up close, teary eyed. A strange marriage of anger, pity and love did come over him when he saw that. He wanted her to leave him be with you, he wanted to condemn her for even wanting to see you when the reason you were dying was because you made a sacrifice for your sake. But how could he? They were both guilty of the same sin, same measure. Their union was only made possible through their selfish brandishing of their love so how could he turn his back on her so belatedly? How could he deny her for this when he’d been the one to gain the most from their union? For shame or for pride, she was his wife. They were too closely entwined for him to become a hypocrite just now. Though, that hardly meant he wanted to see her healthy, well and with their child while the woman who was deprived of everything lay dying. 

He sent Diana from the room, again under the guise of their daughter, “assuring” her that he’d stay at your side all night. Diana’s expression shifted slightly, revealing a hint of the girl she used to be, unpolished and genuine, unable to help showing all her emotions on her face. She looked…wounded but he must have looked very devastated because when he turned to face her fully, her expression slackened slightly and she did not argue. She only sighed and said, “I hope you won’t make yourself ill doing that. I’ll be in my old room, send for me straight away if you feel tired or unwell at all. I love you.” She said her ‘I love you’ like a plea, like she was near begging for his reassurance again. But Claude was simply not in the frame of mind to be declaring his love her even as it still ruled him. He simply nodded at her and looked back at you. Diana stayed still for a few seconds, he felt her eyes on him, felt that he’d hurt her in his denial. Then, she left the room swiftly.

A day later, his whole body hurt, he had not slept and his mind had gone numb. He could no longer consider very much of the future, he waded through the past. “I wonder…” he began in a tone loud enough to hear through the door. “Are you still out there?”

Felix entered the room. He’d been guarding your door since you returned home. He had not left or giving up the task to another knight for long enough to sleep. He had stood there obstinately without saying a word as if he’d never stopped being your knight. “You called for me, My Lord?” His voice was flat and very hardly concealing a certain amount of disdain.

“You searched for my- for the lady independently, if I understand correctly.”

“Indeed,” Felix answered simply.

“Diana and I owe you our gratitude for doing so, for not giving up on her so easily.”

“Oh, I could not abide you being in debt to me, Lord Claude. All that I did, I did for the lady’s sake alone.” A clear message in that, Claude’s lips almost curled into a bitter smile.

“Very good. You may rest now, the lady is in no further danger.”

“I’m afraid I would hardly be a knight if I were only devoted to looking after her when I felt there were further dangers imminent, My Lord.”

“What is it that you’re concerned about? I am at her side, a knight in my own right. I will not leave her.”

Felix only smiled, a hateful, spiteful smile. “Nor will I, My Lord. I hope you understand.”

Oh, Claude understood. Both the voices inside did, in their own manner. An odd similarity had struck between them, as close as they ever had been to being as one. “Very well,” He sighed, unduly frustrated. “You may return.” He did not even know why he’d desired for Felix to leave so much. Was it that he wanted, even if only once, to be the man who put himself aside for you? Was it that Felix’s very existence condemned his own, with his above dutiful knightly devotion to you contrasting the easy manner in which Claude had been willing to trade you for Diana? He felt guilt when he heard that it was Felix who’d found you, who’d never stopped looking and then an ounce of envy. He knew it was arrogant but if there was nothing else he could do to make up for what had been done, he wanted to be the one who rescued you.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, realizing there was no grand redemption for what had been done just as there was nothing that could ever fill the hole of your absence. He had left you to die as he wed the love of his life and made a very beloved child with her. He had taken your sacrifice into his hands easily and enjoyed a peaceful life because of it without even being able to imagine that you’d never get the same. His obliviousness to how you must have been seeing he and Diana, pushed you into thinking you needed to sacrifice for their sakes or else simply needed to escape a marriage to a man who loved your little sister. You were responsible for all that he had now. And what would he do if you never again opened your eyes? What would he do if you went to your grave thinking you meant so little to him that he’d not even done the smallest thing for you? 

Fortunately, your condition had gotten slightly better by the next evening. You had brief bouts of consciousness after a long stretch of unresponsiveness. You had a fever and the doctor was doing all he could with his remedies to break it but it didn’t seem to be working. There was only so much that could be done with your body in such a condition. There was hardly anything that could be administered to you to rid you of any pain though the doctor mentioned there was a chance you weren’t feeling anything at all for you did not attempt to speak when you woke and slipped quite easily back out of consciousness. A prospect which was morbidly comforting. If you were to die, all the better for you to do so peacefully. But because the chance that you were indeed suffering from the high fever wreaking havoc on your body, he gently laid a cool cloth against your forehead.

Seconds later, your eyes opened, slowly blinking as your lips parted in an attempt to take air into your lungs more easily. He pulled his hand away as soon as he saw your eyes open, as if he’d been caught doing something unseemly. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you returned to consciousness, your eyes bleary and hollow. You gazed at him as if seeing past him, as if seeing the figments of him that had failed you before. The cowardly part of him that lay hidden behind worthless flesh wanted simply to tell you that…well, he didn’t actually know what he should say if he were given the chance. At one time, he imagined he’d tell you he loved you but what use was his love to you anymore? In every life he had loved and in every life someone bled for it. What comfort could it possibly bring? As much comfort as a curse which grows into you with time. The constance of misfortune and the certainty that it would become both of you, that was his love. 

It hardly mattered what he wanted to say anyway. His was not the voice that left his lips, it was mimicry from a force that had grown oddly similar to him in this life. “I remember the day they told me you’d run away…all this time, I have thought of that day.” He did not flinch at the words that came from his lips, for once; the fever had probably made you too delirious to understand him.

“Every moment I had to myself, I asked why you left. Diana told me you probably had somebody. But somehow I didn’t believe that, to my perspective, you really weren’t like that. So why? Why did you leave and why did I look for you even after…” He paused, finding himself so overly emotional talking to a woman that couldn’t even hear him, who was probably in a waking dream more than in her old bedroom with her old fiancé. He must be a stranger to her now. So why was he pouring out the things he would not even confess to his wife as if you were responsible? As if you could answer to the melancholy he already knew very well the source of. His two selves still had the obvious rift between them even as his greater self morphed more into a pale approximation of what his true self used to be. They were two jagged shards of a vase knocked from your dining table. This unearthly force that had taken him over, which had control over him still, was a creature yet unknown to him. He would do well to remember that much.

“Even now I am denied the reason why.” Even so, he had spent too many lives with the greater voice inside that ran thousands of thoughts through his very being not to feel as though he understood something about it when it spoke through him then. “When I should have rejoiced, when I should have been glad, always, always, it was you, like an ghost in my periphery.”

“Now you’re back and it feels like the end,” He spoke the words prophetically, it was the end. You were dipping back into unconsciousness again.  “This isn’t the way I’m supposed to feel,” He said, tucking your blanket up to your chin, sending you off for what he felt would be the final time. He felt it, he knew it. His chest welled up with that feeling again, the dread he felt the day you’d run away. This time, he wondered what would happen if he stayed here in the version of reality he’d grown accustomed to. Would it free you if he stayed in the version of the world which had what the greater self sought to carry out? If he gave in to a will greater than his own? 

At some point during the night, your fever broke and when it did, he found himself freed. His body delivered back to him at a very strange point this time. Never had there been a moment where you’d been alive that he’d also been able to speak freely. It felt like an anomaly, a shared fever dream or the view of earth from his first life the day before he met Diana. In any case, he didn’t feel very much about his own autonomy being returned to him, time enough to consider it later and the rest of his life to mourn. That morning, all he wanted to do was stay at your side, as himself through and through. He knew you were not on the same earthly plane as he was anymore even if you were not yet dead. You would not hear what he’d say, nor see what he’d do or feel his presence. Even so, he took your hand in his and he spoke.

“I have loved you for each and every one of our lives. I am sorry,” He drew in a breath. “Don’t forgive me. I will always be sorry. I am sorry for whatever this is, this part of myself so sharply cleaved out of me every time that I cannot stop killing you. I know it means nothing but I have never spoken it and I must. If this is not the real end, in our next life, kill me yourself. It must end. It must end with my blood, how long can we– how long can we suffer this way? There must be something, there must be something…” His speech, intended to be cathartic in some way, broke off and descended into inarticulate blubbering, his tears dripping onto your hand. He could speak no more then. Could stand the sound of his voice begging the empty air no longer. 

He stayed at your side until the very end. Until he could no longer feel your pulse, the beats of your heart slow and faint. He could swear he felt the moment of your death as deeply as he felt the reach of this primordial thing that seemed to take more of him than he could have imagined there was with each life.

tags: @kage-tobiuo@kreishin @rosephantomhive@yeahdrarry@splaterparty0-0 @dear-dairiesss @qluvrv @hafsuhhh @eissaaaa @ayolk @doan-19 @fourcefulcupid@ariachaos@cerisearan@irisspade@yaesflorist@jcrml@xiaosprettygf@yevenly@amaris08atoshi012022 @obsessed-with-a-fictional-man @softbummiee@cassanderasblog @waka-babe @bananatwirl@s1mp69 @mitsuyamistress @hottiewifeyyyy @reiko69 @syyyy4ever @pinkpastel-l @dododododooosworld @gwyneveire @mvoonxlightv @noisyenthusiastface @gwyneveire

criminal minds

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Plaything

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Complimenting

Thoma

🌹 smut

Honey

Darling

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Childe

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Diluc

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Morning

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Zhongli

🌹 smut

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Beloved

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Itto

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Lumine

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AVATAR

Neteyam

— Need you close to me || series

part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5 || EPILOGUE

hii can i please request a scenario of xavier x reader secretly dating (office dating kinda) but got found out by someone because of something they did out of habit? love your writings btw🤩

Dear jeondyy,

Thank you for the request <3 I hope you like this little fluffy story <3

Your Little Secret —He never wants to be just your little secret.

ಇ. Xavier x Female Reader

ಇ. Tags: fluff, office dating, secret dating

ಇ. Word count: ~1k8

ಇ. Masterlist ♡ Request a fic ♡

Recently, Tara "sensed" something was going on at headquarters, and she was determined to uncover the mystery.

At first, things were not clear to Tara; she just had a faint impression that her peers were changing in ways she was unaware of. After many days of observation, she reached a stunning conclusion:

“Xavier is definitely dating!”

You coughed out the mouthful of water you had just drunk, prompting the computer screen in front of you to get wet. Tara looked at you with suspicious eyes:

“What's wrong with you?”

You quickly grabbed a piece of tissue from the table to wipe your face, avoiding Tara's inquisitive gaze.

"Ah… no… Nothing…" You murmured in answer. "I was just… a little surprised why you thought Xavier was dating…"

Your attention swiftly turned to the opposite side of the office, where Xavier was seated with his chin resting on the desk, his eyes half-closed as if having a nap.

"I have proof!" Tara continued, then moved her foot to push her chair closer to you. Raising one hand as a covert gesture, Tara whispered into your ear. “Xavier hadn't been to headquarters too frequently before. Every mission was sent particularly to him. However, he is now arriving at work on a regular basis and leaving late. Isn't that suspicious?”

You nodded in accord to please Tara. She spoke more: “There are also a few other miscellaneous things... Like phone charms! That adorable rabbit charm was definitely given to him by a girl!”

Your face turned pale. You glanced at the phone on your desk before swiftly grabbed and stuffed it into the pocket of your jacket. However, Tara caught the act. She lifted her eyebrows in curiosity.

"Xavier is undoubtedly dating. I just need to find out who his girlfriend is!”

A shiver ran through your body. Tara was concerned by the look and asked:

“Are you sure you're okay? You look pale!”

“Maybe… it's because the air conditioning here is a bit low… Um… I'll adjust it!”

After saying that, you rose up and went away. When you reached the vacant balcony and looked down at the city of Linkon beneath your feet, you breathed a sigh of relief. Your hand went into the jacket and took out the phone and held it up high. A phone charm shaped like a white cotton bunny swung in front of you.

It was a pair, with one dangling from Xavier's phone.

Simply put; Xavier's mysterious girlfriend whom Tara was looking for was you. It all started a month ago, when he and you formally began dating…

"You want to keep us a secret?" Xavier inquired, his tone somewhat disappointed.

"Yes… I believe we should focus on work for the time being. Captain Jenna also stated that office dating should be limited..."

Xavier was quiet for a long time. You felt like you'd let him down so much. He took a brief peek outside the window before returning his attention to you.

“If you want it that way, so be it.”

"Thank you!" You shouted, along with that a feeling of relief in your heart.

“But,” Xavier said abruptly, and you began to faintly sense the constraints tied to his agreement to do what you desired. “Outside of working hours or at places where there are no colleagues, I can touch you, I can hold your hand or embrace you as much as I want!”

You blushed. Your body was still adjusting to Xavier's unexpected touches, but you had to confess that you were anticipating them a lot.

"Okay. Just outside the workplace environment..."

Before you could finish speaking, Xavier came closer and placed a somewhat fierce kiss on your lips. Knowing that he had to suffer a disadvantage by playing the role of your secret lover in this manner, you accepted his sulking and promised yourself that you would find an appropriate occasion to inform everyone about the relationship between the two of you.

Tara, however, was one step ahead. You had no clue when she first noticed Xavier's alterations; all you knew was that once she started, she would not stop until his secret was out into the light.

Afraid that Tara would notice your phone charm was paired with Xavier's, you removed it and kept it at home. The following days, when he noticed you weren't using it, he inquired:

“Where is the bunny hanging on your phone?”

“Ah… I put it away… Everyone at headquarters will notice we have matching stuff.”

Xavier said nothing more after hearing your explanation. You just noticed him softly clutching his bunny charm. That pair of phone charms was a present you got from the claw machines at the arcade on a date. Looking around the home, you realized you had kept a lot of lovely ornaments from your dates.

Among them were two pairs of house slippers with bunny plushies on top that Xavier must have intentionally brought his own to work.

“See those slippers? This means he's definitely dating!” Tara mumbled to herself next to you. “Why do they look like some of the slippers given away at the arcade nearby?”

Tara turned to look at you for support, but all she saw was your bloodless face and your fingers squeezing the pen as if you wanted to shatter it in half.

When you got home that day, you interrogated Xavier.

“Why did you wear those slippers to work?”

He calmly replied: “I don't like wearing Hunter's boots forever. My legs need to rest as well. So I brought it to headquarters for more comfort.”

“You… You could have chosen another pair!”

You sighed. Xavier gave a triumphant half-smile: "You're worrying too much. As long as you don't bring your pair to headquarters, Tara won't find out. Just let her run around assuming things.”

“You don't cooperate at all!” You said with a bit of frustration. As soon as you turned to leave, Xavier grabbed your wrist and drew you into his arms, holding you tightly.

“I merely agreed to keep our relationship a secret, therefore I won't tell anyone that my girlfriend is you. It's not my fault if someone figures it out on their own, right?"

He was right, to the point where your argument would be invalid. You stood still as he held and kissed you. To be honest, keeping this love story a secret proved to be challenging for you, especially since all you wanted to do was shout for the entire world to know, Xavier was yours.

Tara and you used to go out to dinner or have boba tea together after work before dating Xavier. But since having Xavier in your life, you had to continuously refuse Tara's offers, which made her suspicious.

“Where are you going after work?”

"Huh? Where am I going? I just go straight home? I've been a bit tired lately..."

Tara cast you a distrustful glance. "You're not hiding yourself on a date with some guy, are you?!"

You tensed up in your office chair, startled. You feigned to concentrate on the report in front of you, without responding to Tara. She refused to let this go, staring at you with the attitude of a tiger seeking its prey.

You thought that this ought to end.

That evening, as scheduled, you met Xavier at the arcade. You decided to cease meeting after work and go home with him for a while, at least until you completed the upcoming mission. Captain Jenna entrusted you with immense responsibility and did not forget to emphasize that any distractions, especially dating, should be terminated. But you understood that this also meant breaking his heart.

Xavier gripped your hand strongly as you strolled through the arcade. You hadn't said anything to him since you were still trying to find the right words. But he appeared to already know what you were thinking.

“If you're worried about the next mission, we can take a break from dating for now…”

Your eyes widened, and you couldn't believe Xavier had just proposed it out of concern for you. But before you could react, a very familiar voice echoed from the enormous white teddy bear on one side of the path.

“Ha! I caught you both red-handed!”

Tara's face emerged behind the bear's arm. She went out, stood in front of you and Xavier, even pointed at you.

"You two just admitted it yourself!"

"Tara…" You called out, but she was furious.

"And you?! For so long you knew what I was suspecting, but you never said a word! You didn't bother to tell me YOU. ARE. DATING. XA-VI-ER!”

"Oh Tara, please keep your voice down a bit…" You clasped her hand, hoping to soothe her rage. “I was going to tell you… But it's not the right time yet…”

“So how long are you going to hide this from me? Am I your best friend? I'm so disappointed! Extremely disappointed!”

Tara backed away from you and folded her arms across her chest. You turned to Xavier for aid, but he feigned to know nothing, while it was all thanks to his "accidental" clues that she easily discovered this secret.

“I'm really sorry, Tara… Honestly, I'm worried how everyone at headquarters will react when they find out that Xavier and I are… dating…” When the words came out of your lips, telling others about you and Xaiver, you felt both fluttering and thrilled. Looking to the side, the corner of his mouth twisted up into a smile.

“Now you know my reaction!” Tara was still pouting. “You two will have to bribe me if you want my help keeping this a secret!”

"Of course." You smiled conciliatory while embracing Tara's arm. “Shall I buy you some boba tea?”

"For one month." Tara raised her finger and replied. “You will pay for all the boba tea I'll have for a whole month. The revelation that two of Linkon's top Hunters are dating will be surprising, you know! Who could guess what Captain Jenna would say about this.”

"Alright. One month it is." On the outside you were smiling, but on the inside, you were grieving for this month's earnings. “Will you help us keep it a secret until I finish my next mission?”

Tara nodded cheerfully. You sighed with relief and looked at Xavier. He smiled at you. His fingers intertwined with yours. t felt lovely to be able to freely hold his hand in public. Perhaps now you could see why Xavier never intended to keep this relationship a secret from the start.

Pictures are from X

Master List:

Series:

A Drop in the Ocean

Part one :

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A Drop in the Ocean pt. 1

Avatar : the Way of Water Neteyam x reader , Lo’ak x reader Note : so this is just an idea I had in my head. I hope you enjoy, first time

Part two :

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A Drop in the Ocean pt. 2

Avatar: the way of water Neteyam x reader, Lo’ak x reader Note : I don’t know how to link part 1 but it shouldn’t be hard to find as this

Part three:

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A Drop in the Ocean pt. 3

Avatar: the way of water Neteyam x reader, Lo’ak x reader Note: This is part 3! Thank you for all the support; I wouldn't be this inspired

Part four:

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A Drop in the Ocean pt. 4

Avatar : the way of water Neteyam x reader, Lo’ak x reader Note:Part 4! I can not thank you guys enough, I read the comments, and I just s

Part five:

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A Drop in the Ocean pt. 5

Avatar: way of water Neteyam x reader, Lo’ak x reader Note:Part 5!as promised here is an extra chapter for today. Thank you for all the su

Part six:

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A Drop in the Ocean pt. 6

Avatar : the way of water Neteyam x reader, Lo’ak x reader . Note: Part 6! As always, thank you for all the love! Each comment and each l

Part seven:

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A Drop in the Ocean pt. 7

Avatar: the way of water Neteyam x reader, Lo’ak x reader Note: Part 7?! Can’t believe that. After so much support on the last chapter I h

Part eight:

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A Drop in the Ocean pt. 8

Avatar: the way of water Neteyam x reader, Lo’ak x reader Note: I'm predicting about 2 more parts left in the story. With all your suppo

Part nine:

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A Drop in the Ocean pt. 9

Avatar : the way of water Neteyam x reader, Lo’ak x reader Note: we are nearing the end! Thank you for the support. Love you all. I update

Part ten:

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A Drop in the Ocean Pt. 10

Avatar : the way of water Neteyam x reader, Lo’ak x reader Note: final chapter! I hope you all enjoyed this story. I plan on doing the req

cw: part 2 of the romantic getaway series. exes to lovers. lots of bkdk banter.

It’s 8:30 am on the dot when Izuku hears the treads of Katsuki’s car make it to the front of his apartment building and Izuku is thankful he decided to forgo the coffee he considered buying before his friend arrived. Before Izuku can get to the door, Katsuki has rolled the window down and is looking at him with a look of mild annoyance as he sees the suitcase, overstuffed to bursting, propped up next to his friend.

“There better not be a single figurine in there.”

Izuku, in relatively good humor considering the fact that he barely slept the night before, chuckles as he approaches the rising back of Katsuki’s car, dropping his suitcase, nearly twice the size as Katsuki’s, with a thud in the trunk.

“Only the letters from your most devoted haters for some light reading.”

If Katsuki is annoyed by it, Izuku will never find out because by the time he closes the trunk and comes back over to the passenger side of the car, he realizes that Katsuki is staring at his shoes.

He sighs as he gets in.

“Mirio’s team gave these to me for free. I’m not sending any subliminal messages, Kacchan.”

Katsuki won’t say anything else about the fact that his friend is wearing his girlfriend’s ex’s line of sneakers and it bothers him, because that would be immature so rather he presses the push to start button of the car and starts their course to the airport without further ado.

Izuku watches his apartment, which feels less like home these days and more like a place to lay his head, fade in the distance. There’s something wistful about it. He’s literally only leaving for a week, Saturday to Saturday, but he gets the impression that he won’t come back to it the same way he left it. 

Turning back to the road, he lets out another sigh. Katsuki has moved on from whatever train of thought had assailed him and now grips the steering wheel less tightly.

“Okay, here’s what I need you to understand.”

Izuku braces himself, slumping in his seat as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his sky blue sweatshirt, perhaps a little too conspicuous for an up and coming hero, but one of his favorite colors since his adolescence.

“Yes?” Izuku says, knowing that if he doesn’t respond out loud to show he’s giving him his full attention, Katsuki will wait before speaking, then get angrier the longer he waits.

Katsuki readjusts in his seat and cracks his neck on both sides, then throws a sideways glance at Izuku.

“You and that girl of yours are not doing anything to fuck up this vacation, you hear me?”

“Here we go,” Izuku mutters under his breath, but Katsuki is still doing precisely that, going.

“Over the course of this trip, I have two primary goals-” he honks at a car that cuts him off abruptly, but decides to leave it at that because he simply has bigger fish to fry, and that’s his childhood friend in the car beside him who already looks like he’s sulking.

“I am going to FUCK” - the emphasis on it almost has Izuku side-eyeing him - “and I am going to enjoy myself, which means there will be no arguing and there will be no crying.”

“Why are you assuming I would-” Izuku starts but Katsuki’s red glare reminds him that he’s wasting his time.

“I don’t want either of the two of you doing any type of shit that’s gonna make us leave early.  You hear me? Not at the airport, not on the plane, not at the hotel, not at any buffet line, not at the bars, not on the hiking trails, not ANYWHERE, okay?”

Izuku lets out a sigh.

“I’m serious. If she says ‘don’t look at me’, don’t fucking look at her.”

“Are you really policing where my eyes go, Kacchan?”

“Do NOT.”

Katsuki makes a sharp but precise turn and Izuku considers if he should put in his earphones to ignore him and risk a real fight. His friend seems to have gotten the coffee that Izuku skipped and in some ways he envies his passion, but this is annoying he has to admit.

He’s a grown man. He can behave in public and you’re just as cordial, for the most part. It will be fine.

But something mischievous in Izuku’s chest flares up every once in a while when Katsuki is giving him one of his lectures and it comes up now.

“Okay, so what happens if you and ___ fight then?” 

Katsuki’s neck snaps towards him at the speed of light.

“Hah!?”

“Look at the road.” Izuku retorts calmly.

“I will literally turn this car around and kill us both, don’t piss me off.” Katsuki hisses.

“I mean, neither of us will die, but okay. You’ll literally just raise your insurance.”

Izuku’s cool voice hangs in the air as Katsuki realizes he’s right. He doesn’t say another word aside from a noncommittal grumble and there’s peace finally, enough so that Izuku can shut his eyes and think of how best to face you, for the rest of the short ride.

—

“This feels a little more prestigious than I was anticipating,” you whisper to your friend, as you follow an escort to the airport lounge that just precedes the gate to your plane. From your vantage point, especially once the two of you are seated in what feels like an entire secret terminal separate from the remainder of the international airport, you can see that the plane itself is a relatively small carrier, but is painted far too extravagantly, as though an advertisement for Romance in and of itself.

Your friend is slightly distracted as you speak to her, and you can tell that she’s corresponding with Katsuki to clarify his whereabouts. You look at your own phone - notifications from many social media apps and a few text messages from your parents and siblings and overseas friends that were sent at odd hours, wishing you a good trip, emails from work preparing for your official return. You’re not exactly sure what you are waiting for, and when the thought occurs to you that it might be a text message from Izuku, you physically shake the thought out of your head and shove your phone in the pocket.

As soon as you put it away however, it buzzes, and you realize you’re in a four way group chat.

Where are you guys? <3

Immediately after she sends that message, she sends you a separate message.

Don’t you dare leave the chat.

You can feel your stomach turn.

You can see Izuku typing for a moment, a bubble and three dots hovering next to his name, but it disappears after a few moments, and you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. 

Suddenly you’re very self conscious about the way you look. Minimal makeup on your face. Your leggings and sneakers might be nice, but you haven’t done your hair in any way, opting for a french turban to clean up your look. You look nice and casual, but not eat-your-heart-out nice. Your handbag is-

You freeze. Izuku bought you this bag.

Your face is a blazing hot mess when the two men suddenly arrive. Your friend jumps out of her seat to hug Katsuki, leaving you and Izuku staring at each other for the first time in at least two months. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you try to inch your carry on bag, the gifted tote slightly behind you, hoping he won’t notice. He doesn’t, you think; he waves awkwardly, almost a salute to you and averts his eyes quickly.

You wave back, then try to find something else to occupy you.

You hate that every time you look at Izuku in person, you remember that pictures and videos never do him justice. He’s so much more handsome in the flesh, every time, and even though he’s clearly uncomfortable, a red tinge to his neck and the apples of his cheeks, he smiles nervously, especially when the attendant that brought them to this lounge reminds him his shoes have untied, and you can feel your heart go pitter-patter.

No. Absolutely not.

“Promise me you didn’t add those feather boas back into your luggage,” you overhear Katsuki say. Your friend’s arm is hooked around his, and you can hear her dodge the question artfully, as if the pink item isn’t peeking out of her carry on bag. She’d told you Katsuki helped her repack her bags last night, and had a lot to say about her choices, but you also know that she’s a free spirit and does whatever she feels despite her more rigid counterpart.

You’ve probably overpacked but that’s always been your modus operandi.

Izuku is still standing, unsure where to position himself in a way that’s close enough that he’s a member of the party, but not enough that he’s threatening your space. Just the thought of him being close is a bit suffocating and you’re far too aware of him to pretend he’s not around; in fact it’s starting to feel like he’s the only person in the room; everyone else that has filed in is starting to fall away into the background bit by bit.

Eventually, you suck in a deep breath, and decide to harden your heart just enough.

“You can sit there, Izuku, just don’t bother me,” is what comes out of your mouth.

It’s icy cold, especially the way that you call him by his name and not any form of ‘baby’ the way you would have just three months ago, and Izuku visibly deflates in response, but he nods and sits by you anyway per your direction. Despite the larger countenance from his broad shoulders and his athletic hero build, he makes himself as small as possible in the adjacent seat, so as to not upset you.

It’s the last thing he wants to do.

“Thanks.”

You bite your lower lip as you look away, but don’t respond. When you look up, your friend is giving you the two of you an appraising look, but looks away just as quickly, tossing her glance somewhere nonspecific.

A few more moments pass in silence, until it’s time to board.

You can be cordial for a week - you must.

When tumblr refreshes itself and the fic I was reading fucking disappears forever 💔

I’ve been searching for a smau I was reading for three days 😔

Afterglow

Character: Yoichi Isagi, Meguru Bachira, Hyoma Chigiri, Rin Itoshi, Seishiro Nagi, Reo Mikage, Sae Itoshi, Michael Kaiser

Content: Blue Lock boys after pound town (tiktok trend)

A/N: A request from my one of my fav moots @captainshindo <3

Warnings: Mentions of sex

     Yoichi Isagi

     You’re sitting across from Isagi in a quiet corner of a late-night restaurant, the hum of low conversations and clinking cutlery filling the space around you. The air is thick with the scent of grilled meat and spices, but all you can focus on is him—slouched in his seat, eyelids heavy, hair still slightly damp from the sweat of what you’d done barely an hour ago.

     He looks exhausted.

     The kind of exhaustion that settles in your bones after giving everything—after pushing, pulling, and losing yourself completely in someone else. His navy-blue hoodie hangs loosely on his frame, collar stretched just enough to reveal the faintest trace of teeth marks near his collarbone, evidence of the way your lips had claimed him. He probably hasn’t noticed, too busy fighting the drowsiness that keeps dragging his head downward, only for him to snap back up again when his chin nearly meets his chest.

     “You look like you’re about to pass out,” you murmur, stirring your drink with a straw, amusement curling at your lips.

     He blinks at you, dazed, as if only now remembering where he is.

     “I’m fine,” he says, though the hoarseness in his voice betrays him. He shifts in his seat, one hand lazily rubbing at his face before reaching for the glass of water in front of him. His fingers fumble slightly, like even the effort of picking it up is too much.

     You bite back a grin. “You sure? You look like you had the life drained out of you.”

     At that, a slow, lopsided smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I kinda did,” he admits, voice dipping into something softer, something just for you. He leans back, stretching his legs under the table until his foot nudges against yours. “Not that I’m complaining.”

     Your face heats up at his words, but you roll your eyes to cover it. “Eat something before you actually collapse.”

     He groans but picks up his fork, obedient for once. You watch as he takes a bite, chewing slowly, his gaze flickering to you in between. There’s a quiet intimacy in this shared space, the remnants of passion still lingering between you, woven into the way his shoulders relax and the way his foot stays pressed lightly against yours.

     Yeah, he’s tired. But he’s here, with you. And there’s something about that that makes your chest feel warm, like the afterglow hasn’t quite faded yet.

     The waiter approaches, setting down a plate of food in front of you both. Isagi lazily thanks him before turning his attention back to you. You notice the way his fingers grip the fork with a little more steadiness now, the small bites he takes as he refuels his drained body. The sight makes you bite back a smirk, he really had no energy left to spare after earlier.

     “You’re staring,” he says between bites, eyes flicking up to yours.

     “So?” you challenge, resting your chin on your hand.

     He swallows, setting his fork down just long enough to rub a hand over his face again. “So, it’s distracting.”

     You raise an eyebrow, stifling a laugh. “Distracting from what? Chewing?”

     “Yes,” he mutters, the confession dragging a laugh out of you.

     “Just admit I wore you out,” you tease, nudging his foot beneath the table.

     He exhales a breath that’s almost a laugh, shaking his head. “You already know you did, love.”

     The admission hangs in the air between you, making your stomach flip. He doesn’t shy away from it, doesn’t try to cover it up with some cocky remark. He’s just… honest. Open. Your heart does something stupid in your chest, and you quickly focus on your food to keep from letting it show too much.

     “God, what was I even thinking of letting you ride? You nearly killed me,” he sighed dramatically.

     “Oh, but you enjoyed it,” you teased, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

     He raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Hm, well… I might just let you do it again.”

     “Oh?” you smirked, leaning in a little closer, intrigued by his sudden change of heart.

     “Yeah,” he nodded, “but only after my soul finds its way back into my body,” he joked, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

     You catch him stifling a yawn behind his hand, and before you can stop yourself, you let out a quiet chuckle. Then he lets out another yawn, barely covering it with his hand. “I think I’m gonna just pass out here. Wake me up when it’s sunset, yeah?”

     You snort, flicking a stray napkin at him. “Not happening. I’m not carrying your heavy ass home.”

     “You could try,” he mumbles sleepily, already slouching further into his seat.

     You shake your head, watching as his head starts to dip again. “Fine, but if you snore, I’m filming it.”

     Meguru Bachira

     The restaurant is dimly lit, buzzing with soft chatter and the occasional clatter of dishes. You sit across from Bachira, who is currently melting into the booth like a man who’s just ran a marathon. His cheek is squished against the cushioned backrest, golden eyes barely open as he stares at the menu, though judging by the way his pupils aren’t even tracking the words, you highly doubt he’s actually reading it.

     He lets out a long, dramatic sigh and slouches even further, which you thought was physically impossible until now. “M’too tired to read. You pick.” His voice is thick with exhaustion, slow and slurred like he’s seconds from passing out on the table.

     You scoff, flipping through the laminated pages. “You’re the one who insisted on coming here.”

     “Didn’t think you’d drain my stamina that much before we got here.” he mumbles, stretching his legs under the table until his foot nudges yours.

     You roll your eyes, pretending not to feel the warmth creeping up your neck. “Quit being dramatic, you’re acting like you just did a whole workout.”

     “I did,” he insists, lifting his head just enough to look at you before flopping back down. “A very, very intense one.”

     “You sound proud.”

     He grins, not even denying it. “Well, yeah.” Then, he waves his hand. “Give me your hand.”

     You arch an eyebrow, but give in, letting him lazily play with your fingers. His thumb brushes absentmindedly over your knuckles, his touch featherlight, but there’s a sort of intimacy to it that makes your stomach do an embarrassing little flip.

     “You’re ridiculous,” you murmur.

     He pouts. “You love it.”

     You do. But you’re not about to give him that satisfaction out loud, so you just shake your head instead.

     The waiter comes by, eyeing Bachira with slight concern, probably wondering if they need to call emergency services for the half-conscious man draped over the table like he’s just fought for his life. Bachira somehow musters enough energy to order something simple, though you’re pretty sure he just pointed at a random item on the menu. The moment the waiter leaves, he groans and drops his forehead against the back of your hand, exhaling loudly.

     “Don’t fall asleep on me.”

     “Mmm,” he hums, muffled against your skin. “No promises.”

     You sigh, but your other hand moves on its own, fingers combing through his damp hair, still messy from earlier. He exhales again, this time with a content little sound that makes you freeze because oh no, that was cute.

     “You’re so spoiled,” you mutter.

     He cracks an eye open, smirking. “By you? Yeah.”

     You smack his forehead lightly, and he laughs, though it quickly turns into a yawn.

     It doesn’t take long before the food arrives, and you thank the waiter while Bachira blinks at his plate like he’s not sure what it is or how it got there. He picks up his fork, twirls it between his fingers, then—

     —immediately drops it with a clatter, staring at his own hand in betrayal.

     “Honey,” he says gravely. “I can’t hold things.”

     You stare at him. “What.”

     “My arms are dead. My fingers? Jelly.” He lifts his hand and wiggles his fingers dramatically. “Look at this. I have no grip strength left.”

     “Oh my god.” You stare in disbelief.

     “This is your fault.” He insists, and your mind wanders back to how he worked you with his hands for what felt like hours before you got here. You resist the urge to bury your face in your hands at the thought. You broke your man. All for an orgasm. They were great orgasms but still.

     “Do you want me to feed you?” You offer, feeling slightly guilty.

     He gasps. “Would you?”

     You were joking, but now that you see the way his eyes are lighting up, you realize you’ve made a mistake.

     Before you can retract your words, he’s already leaning forward, mouth slightly open, waiting.

     “…I regret everything.”

     “C’mon,” he sing-songs, grinning like an idiot. “Say ‘ahhh’ for me first so I don’t feel weird about it.”

     You grab a fry off your plate and shove it into his mouth to shut him up. He hums happily, chewing like a satisfied child.

     “This is amazing,” he sighs, slumping even further against the booth. “I should let you ruin my stamina more often.”

     You nearly choke on your own food at what he said. You grab a napkin and dramatically press it against your forehead like a distressed Victorian widow. “I can’t do this.”

     “Yes, you can.” He nudges your knee with his foot again. “You love taking care of me.”

     “Debatable.”

     “You’re still feeding me.”

     Ugh, he’s right.

     He grins triumphantly, but it’s quickly interrupted by another yawn. His eyes are drooping again, and you can already tell he’s not going to last much longer.

     “Meguru, if you fall asleep in your food, I will take pictures.”

     He waves a lazy hand. “That’s fine, just make sure you get my good angles.”

     You stare at him in disbelief before shaking your head, picking up another fry to pop into his mouth before he actually does pass out. Yeah. He’s definitely not making it through this meal awake. You place a chaste kiss on his cheek as he snores.

     And honestly? You don’t mind.

     Hyoma Chigiri

     You’re sitting across from Chigiri in a quiet corner of a late-night restaurant, the air rich with the scent of sizzling meat and freshly baked bread. The dim lighting casts a soft glow over the table, reflecting off his crimson hair, which is slightly disheveled—strands sticking to his damp skin, the aftermath of everything you’d put him through just an hour ago.

     He looks done.

     Not just tired—wrecked. Like he’s been through a battle and barely made it out alive. His normally graceful posture is completely gone; he’s slumped in his chair, arms sprawled across the table like he physically can’t hold himself up anymore. His long legs stretch out beneath the table, one foot lazily nudging yours as if he can’t even muster the energy for a proper kick.

     “You good over there?” you ask, taking a slow sip of your drink, watching him with thinly veiled amusement.

     He exhales, blinking at you like you’ve just pulled him out of a deep trance. “I think you ruined me,” he mutters, voice hoarse, thick with exhaustion.

     You smirk. “You’re acting like I made you run sprints for three hours straight.”

     Chigiri groans, dragging a hand down his face. “That would’ve been easier.”

     You chuckle, setting your glass down with a quiet clink. "Oh? Are you saying I’m worse than your training regimen?"

     Chigiri gives you a deadpan look, but there’s the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips. "I’m saying I might need a recovery period before I can walk properly again."

     You hum in mock consideration, reaching for a fry from the basket between you. "There’s a reason why you stretch before doing stuff. Maybe you should’ve done that"

     His ears flush pink, and he exhales sharply, shaking his head. A smirk falls on his lips as he sends you a look. A look that got you two here in the first place.

     “Is that why you’re doing alright? Because I stretched you out so good?”

     Now it’s your turn to be flustered. “H-Hyoma!”

     Well, you can’t deny it. You stammer as he lazily steals one of your fries, though it takes considerable effort, his hand moving slower than usual. You watch as he chews, blinking like he’s on the verge of passing out right then and there.

     The restaurant hums around you, the low murmur of conversations blending with the occasional clatter of plates from the kitchen. Outside, the neon lights of the city flicker against the glass windows, casting a soft glow over Chigiri’s already exhausted face.

     He stares at his drink for a long moment before frowning. He groans again, tilting his head back against the seat. "I’m not sure I have it in me to get up."

     “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before bending me over.” You shrugged, a sly grin on your face as you sipped on your drip.

     "I hate you."

     "That’s not what you were saying earlier.” You tease, “Should I jog your memory again?”

     "Again?" he nearly shouted. "I don't think I can handle that for a while. Give me three to five business days."

     “Yeah right, I give it less than twenty-four hours before you’re begging me to let you do me.”

     His lips part like he wants to argue, but all he does is sigh, shoulders sinking further into his seat. He doesn't need to say it—you both know the truth. Instead, he rubs his thumb over your hand, lazy and affectionate, before stealing another fry.

     Rin Itoshi

     You sit across from Rin at the dimly lit restaurant. Your legs feel weak, a pleasant ache lingering in your thighs, but it's nothing compared to the exhaustion practically radiating off Rin.

     His teal eyes are half-lidded, and his usually sharp expression is softened by fatigue. He leans against his hand, fingers buried in his dark hair, as he stares at the menu like it’s some unsolvable puzzle. Every now and then, his gaze flickers toward you, as if blaming you for his current state.

     “What?” You blink at him stupidly.

     Rin exhales through his nose, not dignifying you with a response. Instead, he lets his head rest against the back of the booth, eyes closing for a moment. The rise and fall of his chest is steady, controlled, but you can tell that he’s drained. You did that. Hehe. Wait, oh my god, you did that to him. The thought makes warmth creep up your spine.

     “Maybe you should’ve paced yourself,” you tease, flipping through your own menu. “Not my fault you can’t handle a few rounds.”

     His eyes snap open, irritation flickering across his face, but there’s no real malice behind it. Just a grudging kind of admiration, hidden beneath layers of stubbornness. “Shut up,” he mutters, voice rough, as if he’s still recovering.

     You bite back a laugh. It’s rare to see him like this—unguarded, spent, completely at your mercy in a way that isn’t physical but still intoxicating.

     The waiter arrives, and Rin straightens, but there’s a sluggishness to his movements. You order for yourself, then glance at him expectantly. He sighs before muttering something about just getting whatever you’re having.

     “Too tired to decide?” you hum, resting your chin on your palm.

     Rin glares, but it lacks its usual bite. “Too tired to deal with you,” he corrects, rubbing a hand down his face.

     You grin, satisfied, and reach for your glass of water. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

     And from the way Rin looks at you, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, you know that’s exactly what it was.

     You glance over at him, your fingers tapping against your own glass. “So,” you start, breaking the quiet, “how was that game of yours today? You actually manage to score this time?”

     His eyes narrow slightly, but the smile on his lips is knowing. “Of course. Not that you’d understand the level of skill it requires.”

     You arch a brow, leaning forward a little. “Excuse me? I could totally play circles around you.”

     “Sure, you’d be great at running interference. ‘Oh no, I can’t block, I’m too cute, please don’t hurt me!’” he mocks you.

     Your eyes narrow, “You’re lucky I’m too tired to slap you.”

     Rin winces dramatically, then leans back with a smirk. “I don’t think you could handle me one-on-one. You’ve already proven you’re not great with stamina.”

     “Oh? You’re one to talk. Don’t make me remind you how well I can handle my stamina against yours.”

     Rin coughs, his face flushing slightly, but he recovers quickly. “You’re insufferable,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

     “I’m insufferable? Is that why you were trench deep in me a few hours ago?” You smirk, taking another sip of your water.

     He scowls, but there’s a certain softness behind it. “That’s enough conversation, shut up. I’m exhausted.”

     “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before deciding to go for as long as you did.”

     Rin’s expression darkens with what could almost be called a glare, but it’s too tired to be truly threatening. “Don’t even start. Do you think you have more endurance than I do?”

     “Mhm, I would prove it to you again but,” You lean in a little closer, smirking. “I don’t think you can handle another round of me just yet.”

     “You talk a lot for someone who’s too tired to even sit up straight.”

     “Well, maybe I just enjoy teasing you.” You lean back.

     The waiter comes back, placing your food in front of you. You immediately dig in, savoring the taste. Rin follows suit, though he’s still slower than usual. You catch him glancing at your plate from the corner of your eye, a barely concealed hunger in his gaze.

     “Are you still hungry?”

     He looks up, and this time, his glare is sharper. “I’m not that weak.”

     You smile and slide your plate closer to him, just out of reach. “Sure you’re not.”

     Rin narrows his eyes at you, then at the plate. It’s clear he wants it, but his pride’s getting in the way. The tension is palpable as he debates internally, and you can’t help but laugh softly. “Just take it,” you say, amusement coloring your voice.

     He glances at you, his lips twitching into a grin. “Fine, I’ll take it, but only because I’m too tired to argue.”

     “Ah, see? You do know when to give in,” you say triumphantly, handing it over.

     “Don’t make me remind you how easily I can make you give in.” He threatens, but you hope it's a promise.

     Seishiro Nagi

     It’s a quiet evening at a small, intimate restaurant nestled between two towering buildings. The dim light casts a soft glow over the wooden tables and delicate plates of food. The quiet hum of conversations fills the air, but the two of you are wrapped in a peaceful bubble of exhaustion. You can still feel the lingering heat from earlier, the way his skin pressed against yours, the feeling of his hands tracing patterns along your body.

     Seishiro Nagi sits across from you, his disheveled hair falling into his eyes as he rubs at them lazily. His eyes flicker to you briefly, but they don’t seem to fully focus. There’s a soft, tired smile playing on his lips, the kind that lets you know he's content, but at the same time, it's clear he’s almost struggling to stay awake. You can’t help but chuckle softly at his state.

     "Hey, Seishiro..." you say, leaning across the table just enough to catch his attention. His eyelids flutter, and he blinks a couple of times, as if trying to summon the energy to keep them open.

     "Yeah?" His voice is hoarse, low, and barely audible. It’s clear that he’s fighting sleep, but it doesn’t seem to be working.

     “Are you okay?” You ask.

     “Mhm,” he replies, his voice raspy. "Just never had someone wear me out quite like you."

     Your heart skips a beat at his words. The casual tone in which he speaks holds a sincerity that’s hard to ignore. The two of you had just come from your apartment, tangled up in each other in ways that left you both breathless and sore, and now, here you are, in a cozy little restaurant, trying to gather yourselves.

     "Oh, um. You’re not falling asleep, are you?"

     He shakes his head slowly, but you can see the effort it takes to do even that. His eyelids slide shut for a brief moment, and you can practically hear the exhaustion in his sigh.

     "I'm fine," he mumbles. "Just... really sleepy..." His voice trails off as his head lulls slightly to the side, before he catches himself, blinking rapidly to stay alert. You watch him for a few seconds, amused, as he fights the pull of sleep.

     "You sure we should’ve come out to eat?" you ask. "I can’t help but feel like you’re about to face-plant into your food."

     "Maybe..." he murmurs, his eyes half-lidded. "But the food here’s good… 'sides, I want to be here with you."

     Your stomach fills with butterflies at that, and you feel a warmth spread through your chest. Despite his exhaustion, he’s always thinking of you. He makes sure you’re okay, that you’re happy, even when his own energy is completely drained.

     “Okay, but next time, we’re definitely staying in,” you tease, leaning back in your chair. “You look like you could fall asleep any second.”

     He smiles lazily, not bothering to fight it. His head drops forward for a brief moment before he jerks back up. "Nah... I’m fine..." But even as he says it, you can hear the faint slurring in his words.

     You decide to let him off the hook. The waitress comes by with your food, and Nagi lifts his head slightly as she sets a steaming bowl of ramen in front of him. His eyes widen momentarily at the scent, but they immediately begin to droop again as he lets out another long yawn.

     "Ramen," he mutters to himself, poking the noodles half-heartedly with his chopsticks. “S'good, I’m sure. Just... I’m gonna... just eat a bit."

     You watch as he takes a few bites, each one slower than the last. His head sways a little as if he’s on the verge of tipping over, and you can’t help but feel a sense of endearment well up inside you. There’s something almost too cute about how he’s always so completely and unapologetically tired.

     "Seishiro," you say softly, reaching across the table to gently touch his arm. "C’mon, let’s just go home. You look like you need a nap more than food right now."

     He stirs a little at the mention of sleep, finally looking up at you with that same, sleepy smile. "No... I want to... eat it myself..." His voice barely rises above a whisper. But after a few more bites, his resolve crumbles.

     “Alright, alright," you say, moving your hand to cup his face. His cheek feels warm under your fingers, the soft skin giving way to the faintest stubble. "You should nap after though. You’ve earned it."

     You offer him a gentle smile, one that conveys everything you’re feeling. The tenderness, the affection, the adoration. He closes his eyes at that, his shoulders sinking further into the chair, his body going slack with exhaustion. A few seconds later, he’s practically dozing, his chopsticks still loosely clutched in his hand, hanging precariously near his bowl.

     It’s not long before you’re the one gently guiding his head to rest on your shoulder. He lets out a soft, content sigh, his body softening into you like a piece of clay, finally free from the constant pull of the world. You shift your arm around him, letting him lean into you as you pick at your food, savoring the flavors but most of your attention on the sleepy, warm figure next to you.

     "How do you always manage to make everything feel so peaceful?" you murmur to him, though he’s half-asleep and doesn’t respond. You don’t need him to. His quiet presence is enough.

     Reo Mikage

     The quiet hum of the restaurant surrounds you as you sit across from him, your heart still racing from the moments shared just hours ago. The dimly lit space feels cozy, and you can't help but grin at how relaxed Reo looks, his usual sharp demeanor softened by the weariness of the afternoon. Normally, he’s composed of confidence, like a guy who could tell you the meaning of life while simultaneously solving a Rubik's cube. But now? Now, he looks like someone who just tried to run a marathon, got distracted by an ice cream truck, and then took a nap halfway through.

     His posture is slouched, his shoulders are practically begging for a pillow, and his eyes are half-lidded with a satisfied haze that matches your own. There's no trace of his usual high-strung self. Instead, there’s a vulnerability in the way he lounges in his chair, as if the very concept of sitting upright is an effort.

     He runs a hand through his hair with slow deliberation. You smile, watching him. It's kind of adorable how tired he looks. You’ve always seen him as the guy who has everything under control, but right now? Right now, he’s more like a human noodle.

     The waiter places two glasses of water in front of you, his smile polite but with just a hint of curiosity, like they're trying to figure out if the two of you are on a first date or if something more... intimate... just went down. You can’t blame them. Reo looks like he might collapse into a puddle any second, and you’re still glowing like you’ve just won an Olympic medal in... well, let’s say “passionate hugging.”

     "Are you alright?" you ask softly, leaning forward just enough for him to hear you. His gaze flickers to meet yours, and a low chuckle rumbles from his chest.

     "Can’t believe you’re the one who’s asking me that," he murmurs, his voice rough in the way people sound when they’ve just done something that requires a lot of energy. "I’ve never been so tired in my life."

     You can’t help it. The laugh that escapes you is soft, affectionate, and a little too amused.

     "I don’t mind," you reply, your tone teasing. "I kind of like seeing you like this."

     He raises an eyebrow at that, lips curving into a slow smile, the glint in his eyes now a little more playful. He leans back in his chair like he’s got a question to ask, but it takes him an unusually long time to find the energy to do so.

     "I don’t know if I should be flattered or worried that you enjoy this version of me," he mutters, his hand dragging over his jaw like he’s thinking of adding a full-body stretch to the mix but ultimately decides against it.

     "You’re cute when you're tired," you say before your brain can catch up. The words slip out like they’re your new favorite outfit. Reo blinks at you for a moment, clearly processing the compliment like someone who’s just been told they’ve won the lottery. And honestly, with that tired smile spreading across his face, he kind of has.

     "Is that so?" His voice takes on a slightly deeper, amused tone, as he leans forward just enough that you can feel his presence press down on you. But not enough to touch. He’s definitely holding back, probably saving up that last bit of energy to make it through dinner without literally falling asleep mid-bite.

     "Yeah."

     "I’m not good at this," he suddenly says, his voice so quiet that it makes you lean in a little.

     You blink. "Not good at what?"

     "Being tired," he admits, his voice almost sheepish. "I’m always on the go, always thinking, always—" He stops, then laughs, like he’s just realized how absurd the whole thing sounds. "But right now, I don’t even have the energy to make a joke or flirt with you. I’m just... done."

     The confession hits you like a slap to the face. This is the Reo Mikage who can talk his way out of almost anything and charm the socks off anyone, yet here he is, admitting that he’s exhausted beyond cognition all because of you.

     You let out a laugh, not unkindly. "That’s actually kind of adorable, you know?"

     Reo sighs, his hand reaching up to rub his temples like he’s holding onto his last ounce of dignity. "I never thought I’d get to the point where I’m adorable when I’m barely functioning. This is new."

     "Okay, maybe next time we can take it slower." You reach across the table and place your hand over his. It’s a small gesture, but there’s something comforting about it. Reo’s gaze softens.

     "I’ll take you up on that," he murmurs, his voice laced with a new kind of tenderness. You were already thinking of next time? The thought made him ache between his legs.

     Reo is doing his best to keep his eyes open, but honestly, you can tell he’s fighting a losing battle. It’s like watching a cat try to stay awake, but eventually, it just gives in to the nap.

     "You’re going to pass out in a restaurant, Reo," you tease him softly, and you can’t help the grin that tugs at your lips.

     "I trust you’ll make sure I don’t embarrass myself."

     You smile fondly. "No promises."

     Reo doesn’t respond. His eyes have long since fluttered shut, and his head starts to tilt back. For now, the world can wait.

     Sae Itoshi

     It was a quiet evening, the soft hum of chatter from other diners filling the air, but you barely noticed it. Your mind was still swimming from the rush of what had happened only hours ago, the lingering weight of the experience heavy between you and Sae.

     The two of you had just finished a rather intense bout of passion in the privacy of your bedroom, and while the fire had simmered down, it had left behind a raw, comfortable silence that felt as thick as the air around you now. You sat across from each other at a small table by the window, Sae's face relaxed into something unfamiliar, softer perhaps, but still radiating that effortless cool. Yet, there was an unmistakable tiredness in his demeanor now, a contrast to the usual energy that typically buzzed off him.

     Sae had always been the type to dominate any room, but now, with his legs stretched out beneath the table, his fingers lazily tracing the rim of his glass, there was an undeniable exhaustion in his posture. His usual confidence seemed to have slipped away, replaced with a rare vulnerability. You studied him for a moment, his sharp features softened from the wear of the day, the slight crease between his brows as if he was deep in thought or maybe just too tired to think at all.

     You smirked slightly, leaning forward against the table, meeting his eyes. "You alright?" you asked, trying to keep your voice casual. You knew him well enough to know when something wasn’t quite right. His body language wasn’t the usual effortless grace; it was more like someone who had just run a marathon, but at the same time, was reluctant to admit it.

     He turned his gaze towards you, blinking slowly as if your voice pulled him out of some trance. His eyes, usually sharp and intense, had softened into a haze of exhaustion, though there was still a playful glint in them.

     "Yeah," he muttered, his voice low and almost drawn out, "Just a little tired."

     "Oh? Is it from what we did earlier?" The teasing tone was unmistakable, but you couldn't help it. It had been wild. Sae had been insatiable earlier, his hands never still, his mouth hot against your skin, and his energy was something else entirely. He fucked you so deep and good into that matress you thought you we’re melting into it. But now, he was the one who seemed to need a rest.

     "Don't remind me," he groaned, leaning back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment. His usual air of confidence had given way to something much more human, and that made him all the more fascinating. It was almost like he didn’t quite know how to handle it.

     The waiter arrived at the table, placing your drinks down with a soft clink of glass. Sae barely acknowledged the server, his eyes still closed, his fingers drumming lazily on the edge of his empty plate. You gave the waiter a polite smile before they left, focusing back on Sae.

     "You know, for someone who's so used to pushing limits," you said, leaning in just a little, "you sure look like you're ready to collapse."

     He opened one eye, "I could’ve kept going if I wanted to."

     You tilted your head, studying him as he let out a sigh, the way his broad shoulders sagged as if carrying an invisible weight. "You sure? You seem pretty out of it."

     "I don’t do ‘out of it’," he replied lazily, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. It was the kind of response you would have expected from him, but it lacked the bite it usually had.

     You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed, unable to hide your amusement. "Yeah, sure."

     "You think I'm lying?" He raised an eyebrow, his gaze flickering to yours with a hint of challenge, though the weariness behind it was impossible to ignore.

     You shrugged. "Yeah. You look like you’re about to pass out right on the spot.”

     "Yeah, well..." Sae trailed off, looking at you as if he were trying to decipher something. He reached out across the table, his fingers brushing lightly against yours. "Guess you wore me out. But I can promise you, I could’ve kept going."

     "If you say so, Itoshi."

     "Don’t get too cocky now. You’re not the only one who can wear someone out. Should I remind you of what happened on your birthday?" There was still a playfulness there, but it wasn’t quite the same as before.

     “S-shut up…” You mutter curtly. Even remembering what happened on your birthday with Sae made your legs ache.

     But as you glanced up at him again, you noticed that his eyes were now closed. A little snore escaped his lips, and you couldn’t help but snicker. Sae Itoshi, the unstoppable force, the man who never showed weakness, he was human after all. He could get tired. He could let himself rest. Even if it was slumping over in his chair at some random restaurant.

     "Well, I guess I really did wear you out," you whispered, resisting the urge to laugh out loud.

     Sae’s eyes fluttered open just enough to send you a sleepy glare. "I’m awake, don’t get cocky," he muttered, but the sleepy tone betrayed him.

     “Yes, sir." You teased, taking a sip of your water as you analyzed his features. Oh, how much you adored him.

     Michael Kaiser

     You lean back in your chair, trying not to giggle too loudly as you glance over at Michael, who’s sitting across from you, looking like he’s about to pass out at any given moment. His hair is disheveled, his shirt slightly untucked, and he’s giving you the most exaggerated, tired expression.

     “Are you okay?” you ask, leaning across the table with a soft smile. You trace the rim of your water glass with your fingertips, watching him as he lazily looks up at you.

     He blinks a few times, as though the question takes him by surprise. Then, as if processing your words, he lets out a deep sigh, rubbing a hand over his face.

     “Yeah… I’m good,” he says, his voice a little hoarse, though you’re not sure if it’s from the aftereffects of your time together or just exhaustion. His gaze drifts to the menu, but it’s clear that he’s not really seeing it.

     “Did our earlier activities tire you out?” you muse, tapping your chin.

     “How could it not? I had you on that bed for hours.” He shook his head in disbelief at how you expected him to not be exhausted. “Only reason you’re fine is because I let you be pillow princess.”

     “Hey, I didn’t tell you to be so rough though, that was done in your own self indulgence.” You narrowed your eyes at him. How dare he try to blame you?

     Michael looks up, clearly attempting to muster some strength for a comeback, but all he manages is a weak smile. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Y/n,” he mutters under his breath.

     “Are you saying you don’t have it in you for another around?” you ask with a teasing tilt of your head. He stares at you like he’s about to say something, but then his shoulders droop again as if the thought of moving is a monumental task.

     “Round two?” he repeats incredulously. “You’ve already broken me. What do you want from me, a medal?”

     You chuckle, leaning back in your seat as you give him a playful smirk. “Maybe,” you say before continuing “but, I think you deserve an award for stamina”

     Michael scrunches his nose, clearly starting to get embarrassed, but trying to hide it.

     “I don’t even know if I remember the last few minutes, Micha, you just kept going. Are you human?” You laugh, taking another sip of your water.

     "I came here to eat, not to get all worked up again," he grumbled.

     You flashed him a mischievous grin and winked. "Well, maybe you should've been clearer about what you wanted. I did offer you plenty to consume earlier."

     "Yeah, and you drained all the energy with it," he shot back, barely holding himself together. His breath came in shallow gasps. "Careful, darling. I can have you teary-eyed and screaming again. Don’t talk your way into something you won't be able to handle."

     The thought made you ache between your legs, a burning desire coursing through your body. You had to stop yourself from thinking about it too much, or else you might accidentally kill Kaiser by asking for another round. As much as you wanted it, you knew it would be too much for him in his state.

     "Really? You look like you're about to pass out," you said, raising an eyebrow as you studied his flushed face.

     "Might," he muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion, but there was still a faint glimmer of a smirk on his lips.

     "You know, this is all your fault, right?" you teased, your tone light, but there was a definite edge of playful accusation in your voice.

     "What did you say?" His eyes snapped open at your words, narrowing in your direction as if ready to challenge you.

     "You didn’t have to be so rough," you shrugged nonchalantly, though the memory of what had just transpired made your pulse quicken. "You did this to yourself."

     "As if you'd have accepted anything less from me," he scoffed, his voice hoarse but laced with pride. "Keeping you satisfied is the real workout. The things I do, the way I wreck myself just to make sure you’re pleased..." His words trailed off, and you could feel the smugness in his tone even as he struggled to stay awake.

     "Oh please," you teased, leaning closer, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of his jaw. "You think I don’t know how high you get from making me see stars every time you make me come undone?"

     A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, but he was already starting to drift. "Hm. I guess we both have our own reasons," he rasped, exhaustion overtaking him as his head lolled to one side, his eyes fluttering closed. You couldn’t help but laugh at how quickly he had given in, how the mighty had fallen. His pride might have been unshakable in the moment, but you had a way of bringing him to his knees. You snapped a quick picture, wanting to capture this rare sight of him defeated and completely fucked past exhaustion.

     "Guess we do," you said softly, a fond smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you admired the man who had given you so much yet couldn’t resist teasing you back.