it's raining outside, and higuruma is laying on your bedroom floor.
the soft pit-patter of raindrops coupled with his dancing fingertips against the exposed skin of your waist is a song you haven't quite learnt the tune to yet — he lays on his side, hair tousled and damp, dark strands curling over his forehead, sleeves rolled up and tie forgotten somewhere in the doorway.
admittedly, you're in no better shape. your cheeks are cold, skin of your calves wet with rainwater from running across the busy streets with him, armful of whatever ingredients you two picked out for dinner, his suit jacket held above your head and the occasional chorus of laughter when either of you stomp a puddle and splash the other.
it's raining, and higuruma thinks he falls in love with you every single day, like it's born anew.
he falls in love with the girl he wakes up next to, mouth open and cheek smooshed into the pillows. he falls in love with the girl who doesn't know a thing about law, but argues better than him in the heat of the moment. he falls in love with the girl who kicked her boots through puddles of rain, ruining his pants — the girl who made him laugh about something so mundane.
it's raining, and higuruma is laying on your bedroom floor, oddly paired with his formal white shirt and a pair of pajamas, his dress pants draped over the washer — the dryer broke a few days ago, he forgot — he holds you close as he watches the water droplets race against the glass window.
he loves you.
“do you like the rain?” you ask him, head tucked into his neck, his eyes fluttering shut for a second, the question is lost on him for a moment.
“i like you.”
you don't respond yet, and higuruma opens one of his eyes, only to find you staring at him. “more than you like the rain?” he almost laughs at that, almost, and he pulls you impossibly closer.
“a lot more than i like the rain, i’m sure.”
it's raining outside, and higuruma never really liked when it rained, not at all.
he proposed to you in spring. married you in summer.
but now he hopes it rains tomorrow, he hopes you still want him then, and he hopes you'll splash him with another puddle.
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Hot Steam | Xavier/Reader
About: What started as a nice soak in the hot springs with Xavier turned into something more...
Pairing: Xavier/Reader
Notes: I don't have the memory Kind Words for Xavier itself so idk what goes on in that scene but the art itself made me go . I need him I need to write him and mc in the hot springs.
AO3: Read here!
Warnings: Age 18+ only please. Enjoy :)
“This was not what I had in mind when you told me to come sit closer.”
You said, doing your best to look him in the eye and not let your eyes wander down further. But he did not extend the same courtesy to you.
“Then what did you have in mind?” Xavier asked as he toyed with the towel that was stubbornly wrapped around your body. He had complained about you sitting too far away from him while in the hot spring beforehand and caught you off guard when you scooted closer, grabbing and lifting you by the waist and then plopping you down onto his lap. While you didn’t mind the closeness of it all, something about being skin to skin and almost naked made you feel… exposed.
It didn’t help that his hand was still on your waist, resting at the small of your back. How easy would it for him to slide his hand down further and slip it under the flimsy towel–
A sudden kiss to your bare shoulder pulled you out of your thoughts. He was staring up at you, his eyes dark and intense. He didn’t care your breasts were pressed against him, the towel shielding your form from him barely holding on.
Or maybe he did care, since you could suddenly feel something poking at your thigh.
“What’s on your mind?” He asked, his expression unchanging despite knowing you could feel his growing problem under you.
“What do you think?” You retorted as calmly as possible. You thought it was impossible to feel yourself grow even hotter, being in a hot spring and all. But you did, his touch planting seeds of desire under your skin. Especially when he hooked his fingers onto the hem of your towel.
You nodded when he looked toward you for permission. And with one smooth motion, the fabric that protected you from the world, from his dark, predatory gaze, fell around you and sunk into the hot spring.
The soft sigh he let out then broke the peaceful silence of the hot spring, his hot breath fanning your exposed breast. Lifting his hand out of the water, he dragged a finger against the round of your right breast, as though committing the sight before him to memory.
“You’re so beautiful.” Xavier breathed out, before pulling you down to a kiss. It felt tender at first, gentle like he was to you. But as seconds ticked by, the kiss grew more intense, headier, with him palming your breast and thumbing over your pert nipple as his other hand drew you closer to him.
And then, you felt it. You gasped as he pulled you flush against his hardness. The soft cotton fabric brushed past your clit and his clothed tip pushed insistently against your entrance. Taking advantage of your surprise, he slipped his tongue past your lips and deepened the kiss, slowly grinding himself up and down your heat.
“I don’t— I don’t think we should do this here.” You said, breathless after parting from his lips. His hands were incredibly distracting, wandering about and teasing you. But that was nothing compared to his hardened cock resting between your folds, throbbing every now and then to remind you of your shared predicament.
“You’re right. Shall we head back inside?”
Before you could climb off his lap however, he slipped an arm under you and lifted you, hauling you up to his shoulder with one arm.
Like a prize won by a successful hunter.
“Wait– I can walk–”
“No.” Xavier said, carrying up and into the room you booked, suddenly glad that you opted for a private hot spring instead. He gently laid you down on the bed before climbing on top of you, his piercing gaze never leaving you once.
“What kind of hunter would I be if I let my prize go?”
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