Decided to put two requests in one since the way I wrote this fit them both (and because it got suuuuuuuper long compared to usual). It did get a little angsty for a while but it turned out fluffy in the end, I promise! I hope you guys like the way this turned out (and sorry for the wait /_\;)!


“… Well, of course, I know who the buyer is but I’m not sure who on Earth had it in their right mind to interfere with the operation! And I know those men were just lackeys so I’d really appreciate it if you could look into finding the ringleader for me, Iza-kun~” she spoke in a sing-song voice, trying her best to seem cute and endearing as she rested her hand on Izaya’s shoulder. The shirt she wore was low-cut, revealing more than it should have as she pressed her chest against his arm. Meanwhile, Izaya ignored her for the most part, only paying attention to what little (and pretty much useless) information she had given him on the whereabouts of her stolen shipments. This client was new, a foreigner from America looking to continue some underground drug ring fight club whatever it was. Apparently, she had ordered an illegal trade the night before which was pitifully sabotaged. In the end, she still lost some pretty high-end cargo and came knocking on Izaya’s door asking for information.

Unfortunately, you had been walking around the city that evening with Namie until she headed home, leaving you wandering towards the apartment you shared with Izaya. You had recognized your boyfriend’s voice relatively quickly, rounding the corner excitedly to greet him. Hand raised to wave hello, his name was so close to escaping your lips before you had realized that not only was he with the client he mentioned briefly over the phone earlier, but that said client was practically dry humping his hip at this point. Both walked your way still and you rounded the corner, shrinking back into an alley and gathering your thoughts. Yes, in his text that afternoon he had mentioned going to meet a particularly unique client; a foreigner, he had specified. Still, you didn’t expect her to be so touchy. The sight left a bitter feeling in your mouth even after reassuring yourself that he looked rather irritated by the woman’s presence.

You wouldn’t be so worried if you were dating someone more… average. Izaya was most definitely not, forcing you to recall the early beginnings of your relationship. The speeches you found so fascinating about his love of all humans, how they were all equal in his eyes, the way your heart leaped when you tweaked that philosophy and became a priority, a necessity to him. Sometimes though, you feared that maybe, as complex as Izaya is, it’s not as hard as you thought to stand out to him. That maybe being a bubbly foreigner could be just as alluring to him as you and your unique reactions when he posed complex questions that only he could really understand. It made you feel sick to think about it, especially when you had the image of that woman clinging to him ingrained in your mind. Despite the nauseous feeling it gave you, you couldn’t help but follow them out of some need, a sick sense of curiosity, or even worry. Worry that he’d leave you, not because you don’t trust him, but because maybe you’re no longer interesting enough to keep his attention.

Your footsteps were quiet, moving on impulse, ducking into alleyways when the pair in front of you turned to new roads. Sometimes it was a bit hard to keep track of them under the darkening evening sky but you followed still. Your mood darkening with every flirtatious comment the woman made and every too-friendly touch. It was both relief and a sense of impending doom that filled you when she handed Izaya the money and he accepted the job as you realized the dire truth; he thought you were at home.

You turned around, footsteps as quiet as they could be as you speed-walked your way down the street. Deeming yourself to have gotten out of earshot, your feet slammed on the ground as you burst into a full-on sprint, passing bystanders at a lightning-fast pace as you darted towards the apartment complex. The wind whipped your hair wildly as you rounded corners and made your way through side streets, eventually coming to the front doors of the imposing grey building. The lights showed from various windows which cascaded downwards into a luminous greeting, beckoning you to hurry in and situate yourself. You continued your fast pace towards the elevators and tapped your foot against the faux marble floor as you rode your way up, anxiety biting at you when you thought of being caught spying or maybe even being right about your earlier presumptions.

You slipped into the apartment and kicked off your shoes, your jacket being placed on the rack near the door. Wiping the sweat from your face, you rushed into the kitchen to start some semblance of a meal, glancing back to make sure you had locked the door behind you. The anxiety from moments ago seemed to subside a bit in the quiet apartment as you stir-fried vegetables and listened to the popping of oil, frying fish in the pan next to you. It hadn’t been maybe twenty minutes before your entire body jolted at the sound of the door lock clicking and a familiar face waltzing in past the threshold. You lowered the heat on the pan you had been handling and turned to greet Izaya who had carried himself over to stand in front of you, his hands coming to rest on your hips.

“Pretty late dinner, don’t you think? It’s almost 11:30,” he raised a brow before kissing your cheek and allowing you to turn in his arms and continue cooking.

The pans sizzled, nearly burning you with small splashes of oil as you carefully stirred their contents. You let out a soft hum of acknowledgment, taking a moment to think up a reply as you turned off the heat on the burners. “I took a nap on the couch when I came in a few hours ago, when I woke up it was almost eleven,” you started plating food, Izaya watching you closely from a few feet away. “How did your meeting with the client go?”

He was silent for a moment, only saying a quick thank you as you handed him his plate and made your way to the dark tabletop off to the side of the kitchen. Once you were seated you began to eat, still in silence. You were only half-way through your meal before Izaya spoke up, only having picked through his food thus far, “My meeting?” You glanced up, nodding and waiting for his answer to your earlier question. “Well,” he took a slow bite of his food, acting thoughtful as if he had already forgotten the last few hours of his night, “you would know, wouldn’t you?”

You nearly choked on the bite of salmon you were swallowing, taking everything in you to ignore the awful feeling of food being temporarily lodged in your throat and staying calm. “Not unless you told me before now,” you made eye contact, trying your hardest to seem inconspicuous. All you received was a neutral expression with the slightest hint of amusement dotting his eyes, much to your chagrin.

“You’re wearing your noisy shoes today, you know?” He took another bite of his food, you now being the one to pick awkwardly at the contents of your plate, “The ones that make that strange squeaking sound if you walk too fast.”

He knew. He heard you and he may have damn well seen you too! You were embarrassed, to say the least. The nervousness from earlier when the adrenaline had rushed through your veins during your run had been brought back in full, accompanied by a new sense of dread. A cluster of thoughts filled your mind. What if he’s upset with me? Come on, now. He does this for a living. But what if he’s angry that I didn’t trust him? What does he think of me knowing I practically stalked him all evening? For a while you sat in silence, returning to the earlier atmosphere but with a new tension on your side. Izaya continued to eat, eventually finishing and stacking your own near-empty plate on his, carrying them to the sink and coming back to his seat across from you at the kitchen table.

“____-chan, you’re fidgeting…” You refused to meet his eyes, your gaze locked on the table and his own sights set on the top of your head. Your face was hidden from view but he was confident you looked upset, if not unbearably nervous. “Come on, now, I’m not mad. Why did you follow me today?” His voice was soft, curious, “Not that I mind your company, but-”

He went quiet as you slid your hand across the table to rest a finger against his open palm. The contact was minuscule but the warmth where your skin met was enough for him to understand a bit; again silence came as you thought of your next words. “She- I- I didn’t… I didn’t like her, “ you paused, the both of you know that wasn’t what you meant. Well, honestly, you didn’t like her at all, but that wasn’t what you were trying to say. “The way she touched you, Izaya, the way she clung… You never told her to stop, never told her to let go.”

Your eyes finally rose to meet his own, gazes locked as you waited. He could tell you were upset, jealous, maybe even angry. Izaya paused a moment longer before replying, “I didn’t tell her to stop both for the sake of the deal and because I was…”

“You were what?” Your voice shook faintly, the feeling of bile rising in your throat at the answers you were dreading. “I want her.” “I’m bored of you.” “You’re tiresome.” “You’re not enough for me.”

The words repeated in your mind as he watched your hands begin to tremble, his own coming to hold them in worry. Worry for you and worry for himself because he knew that if you were reacting like this now, you’d really be pissed at his answer. “…I was curious about your reaction. I wanted to know how you’d behave being faced with something like that. I’m sorry ____-cha-”

You weren’t pissed as he had expected. Not even angry could describe you now; you were livid. Looking full of hellfire, your voice raised. Not in volume but in pitch, a telltale sign that you were hurt, no longer by the woman but by Izaya himself. “Sorry? You’re sorry?! I could have handled you being bored of me and I could have taken not being enough for you, but you didn’t even have a real reason?!” You stepped away from the table and from him, pacing throughout the room. You knew him, you knew he did things like this. He’d done “tests” like this before when the two of you first met but now you’d gotten comfortable. It had been such a long time since he’d targeted you for one of his little social experiments that you had grown accustomed to being his pride and joy and not another guinea pig. Apparently, you still were though.

Izaya stood as well, looking cooler than ever but only thinly veiling the guilt (whatever amount he could possibly muster) hidden in his expression. “____-chan… ____. I didn’t mean to offend you,” you shot an icy glare his way, his “apology” not being accepted. You continued to pace, seething in silence as he watched you, unsure of what to say or do to try and fix his mistake. Now you were not only worried he was no longer interested in you but you also had a new fear that you were just his pawn. Yes, everyone else was, always, but you had hoped to god you’d made it past that now.

Your boyfriend was still watching quietly until eventually, he couldn’t stand it anymore. He walked up slowly, almost like he was afraid you’d run if he was too sudden in his movements, and put a hand on your shoulder. It was almost like a slap in the face when your entire body tensed up and you avoided meeting his eyes. You were pissed more at yourself for following him and unknowingly playing along than at him for setting the whole thing up but that didn’t stop you from blocking him out either way.

The room remained silent, the anxiety clouding your thoughts and soon enough the only thing you could really register was Izaya centering himself in front of you, both hands on your shoulders and thumbs rubbing circles into the fabric of your shirt. He didn’t dare to do anything more, merely stilling you and waiting for your next move.

You sighed, frustrated and exhausted and mulling over far too many complicated thoughts all at once. Every time the words tried to come out they caught in your throat and made you angrier, and every time you got angrier you wanted to scream. You wanted to scream at yourself, at Izaya, at the damned woman in the ugly shirt, at everyone! But each time you thought about yelling at him or raising your voice in the slightest, you would remember your promises to him. You remembered the day he first spoke to you, asking you some strange and out-of-this-world question before you replied accordingly and caught him off guard with your answer. You remember the surprised and curious smile stretching across his face with every word you told him as he walked you home. It made you smile. Only slightly, but enough.

You found yourself leaning forward, your head coming to rest against his chest as your breathing slowed. Izaya took this as his queue to slowly wrap his arms around you and pull you closer, your hands coming to rest on his hips. The soothing patterns being traced into your shoulders continued to calm you until you relaxed into him completely. You were still upset, yes, but primarily about that woman taking him away from you more than being a science project. The amount of anger you felt scattering its attention on every little made your head hurt and it all started falling out of place. You felt ridiculous for the shouting and you felt embarrassed about following him earlier. The most unsettling feeling of all was the strange sense of shame coiling in your gut. Where it came from or why it was there, you didn’t know, but it made its presence known.

Izaya tried to grab your attention, taking a step back but still holding his hands at your shoulders to try and ground you from whatever sort of sensory overload was taking place. “____…” he murmured, voice soft and tone concerned. Tears were pooling in your eyes from the emotional blur you were trying to make sense of; everything felt too complicated and too stressful and the blood pulsing in your ears got louder and louder the more you dragged yourself into your thoughts and returned to a state of distress. Izaya gently shook your shoulders, your eyes snapping to his and a tear streaming down your cheek. Your brows furrowed as if you were begging some higher power to answer your prayers, a look a pained confusion, distraught and at peace all at once. He could there was something else you had to say, something you were attempting to voice that refused to come out. The inkling theory of what it was swimming in his head, “What? What else is there, ____?” A hand rose to your cheek, thumb gentle against your skin.

You looked more troubled than before when the question registered with you; anxiety was bubbling up again and rooting itself in your bones for the umpteenth time that night. You sighed, words forming in a quiet mess of near-broken syllables as the sounds moved past your lips, “Am I…Am I boring? Are you bored of me? I-” The breath caught in your throat, choking you and almost bringing you to a full stop; tears were slow and steady, being wiped away every so often by the hand still resting against your face. “Would you prefer h-her? Are you done playing with me? Tell me, Izaya. Please tell me what’s left of us because I was sure I knew this morning but it feels different now.” Your voice was small and broken, eyes squinted to see through the tears as you tried your best to look at him, “Do you still love me? Do you still love me like you did yesterday? A week ago? A month?”

Izaya, not that he’d ever admit it, was taken aback. He knew he’d messed up that night, greatly so, but he never expected your thoughts to escalate so quickly and so drastically. True to his nature, he smiled at the surprise. He never planned on that sort of reaction, not at all, and he absolutely adored you for changing the game once again.

Despite the immense burst of joy he felt upon looking at the sincere pain in your eyes he had not planned to see, he knew he had to fix it. He may be a rotten man but he still loved you greatly.

The hand holding your cheek wiped away another tear as the seriousness was interrupted by the laughter softly bouncing about his chest. “Come here, ____. Come with me.” Izaya did not kiss you. He did not hug you or pat your head. He dropped the reassuring hands he held you with altogether, opting instead to turn and walk to the bedroom, you hesitantly following suit. Upon opening the door he stepped away to let you in, shutting it behind him. “Lie down for me, right in the middle, okay?” Admittedly, you were confused, the budding headache doing nothing for you as you obeyed. You went around the large bed, taking note of the duvet knocked to the floor haphazardly after Izaya had woken that morning, not bothering to replace it as usual. You sat, movements slow and unsure as you shifted your hips and scooted across to the middle of the mattress. There was a nervousness pooling in you, strangely enough; you practically lived here, you’d slept in this bed many times, and you’d slept alongside Izaya many times as well, and yet you still felt odd about what was happening, whatever it was. Maybe it was the stress of the past few hours or the fear of what answer you may or may not receive if Izaya ever acknowledges your questions from earlier.

You looked at him then, your hands fidgeting and picking at the strings dangling from the hem of your shirt as you watched him who looked like he was admiring you or maybe just losing himself in thought as he planned, you weren’t all too sure. You were confused further as he came forward, kneeling on the bed and making his way towards you slowly and carefully before coming to a halt inches away from your lips. He whispered softly, near-inaudible, and you could barely make out the words as you focused on the movement of pink lips.

“I love you.”

You looked confused almost, not having completely registered what he said; still, your cheeks tinged red and the widening of your eyes as you comprehended the words was enough to having Izaya chuckling once more before he leaned in to kiss you. “Let me show you”, he whispered, every possible mix of words died in your throat, the realization set in that he had every intention of taking you tonight. This was a plan of his to reach into you with every bit of himself and touch your very soul so you could understand. As soon as you nodded in confirmation, words betraying you once more, the most heartfelt reconciliation Izaya could conjure was set in motion.

Despite having every intention of being confident and careful and reassuring, Izaya was stumbling in the most novice of ways. He was so sure of himself in this plan to rid you of your fears and your troubles but he quickly came to the conclusion that he had, not for the first time, gotten far ahead of himself. His capacity for romance was limited, his social intimacy had been stunted since childhood, and his ego was boosted to impossible proportions; such was a recipe for disaster when it came to intimacy as he’d just realized. He had to give it some thought, wondering if maybe it was his fault you had gotten so much pent-up worry over the state of your relationship, if maybe he could have learned to be sweeter, more in touch with you. Instead, he’d been coasting across on his own idea of love and how he wanted love to be. Tonight, however awkwardly, he would learn what love you wanted.

Your face was practically on fire as Izaya reached for the hem of your shirt where your fingers had picked away at the loose strings, bringing it up over your head and tossing it to the side to land on the duvet in the floor. A kiss was placed on your lips and another questioning glance met your eyes, asking for permission to move forward. Again, you nodded, a hand reaching up to cover part of your face and an eye peeking between your fingers as you watched him move. Nimble fingers unfastened the button on your jeans before tugging the fabric past your thighs and off of your legs entirely. He stopped then, admiring the softness of your skin and the barely-there stubble from where you’d shaved earlier that week. His hands reached forward, almost timidly as he did so, to rest against your waist. Brown eyes set a heavy gaze on you as his thumbs made their way down to caress your hips. “Is there anything you want,” he came forward to kiss your cheek, “Anything at all? Barring the obvious, of course,” he took a moment to glance at the damp spot on your underwear to which you promptly snapped your legs closed, face turning to look away from him as he chuckled, an amused and adoring smirk stretching across his face before he kissed your cheek again.

“Shirt…” Your voice was quiet, sounding unsure of yourself and still hesitant, not quite comfortable yet.

Izaya leaned back to take a look at you (or as much as he could while you were avoiding his eyes so adamantly). His hand grabbed your chin, gently guiding you to face him and your gaze trying and failing to moving onto anything but him. “At any time can you tell me to stop. If you’re uncomfortable, say so. Please say so. This is for you only if you want it. I’m here for you. This is your time.”

Your eyes widened, the sincerity as he spoke so surely would have had you speechless were you not already struggling to speak previously. You nodded to him, stopping when you saw the questioning look on his face. “I- Okay…,” you still sounded unsure, causing Izaya to grab your hand which had moved to prop you up on the mattress. Motivated by his warmth, you steeled yourself, “I will. If I’m not okay I’ll tell you, I promise.” You locked eyes with him, your flushed face and determined stare were enough to have him cooing at you in his head.

With that he leaned back, pulling the fitted black shirt over his head and throwing it in the general direction of your own clothes, his pants coming next. It gave you a sense of comfort from the equal exposure, the both of you taking a moment to admire each other. It was so odd to see each other so naturally and so freely, accompanied by tented boxers and wet underwear, of course.

Izaya made his way forward, hand coming to rest just above your knee, another request for permission evident on his face. As much as you loved it, the constant double-checking was killing you. “Izaya, I’ll tell you to stop when I want you to, I swear,” you leaned towards him and planted a kiss on his forehead, pink soon coming to just barely dust his cheeks. He rolled his eyes, nodding at you and moving his hands up to the waistband of your underwear. Hesitant fingers slipped under the elastic before slowly but surely removing the offending garment altogether and flinging it to the side.

There was an unexpected sense of anticipation as he moved his hand to trace the glistening skin of your folds, a nervous excitement building in you both as Izaya poked and prodded at your entrance. Finally, he slipped the first finger inside, appreciating the sharp breath you took when he curled the digit inside you. With a few short pumps, going slowly to let you adjust and enjoy the feeling, he was moving to enter a second finger. His opposite hand came to trace your side and provide balance as he leaned forward to place gentle kisses across your chest, eventually settling on nibbling a pert nipple whose enticing silhouette had no trouble in capturing Izaya’s attention. His fingers moved faster within you, a third joining the others as soft whimpers escaped past your lips.

His movements began to slow at the trembling of your thighs, only coming to a full stop once he glanced up to see the lip caught between your teeth and the harsh rise and fall of your chest. Your face was flushed, reddening further at the needy whine slipping itself past your lips. “Patience now, ____-chan. We can’t go ending it all here, can we?” You squinted at him, making sure the look you gave him got across that the growing wet spot where the head of his cock strained against his boxers was not unknown to you, the physical proof of his own excitement being no secret. “…Anyways,” his cheeks flushed a bit and you giggled, a small smile making its way onto his face as looked at you. You finally seemed to relax, adjusting to the situation and taking things fairly well. He made his way forward a bit, both of your hands nudging his away and coming to rest at the hem of his boxers. What you tried make look like a request for permission only looked devious and downright enticing on his end. Instead of a nod like you had expected, he crashed his lips against yours, the unexpected force making your head spin and a grunt to emerge from his throat. Tongues clashing, you removed his boxers and began to palm at the growing erection standing proudly against your thigh. There was a bit of awkward shuffling as he reached into the bedside table, blindly popping open an unused box of condoms and stumbling to roll one on. Soon he was finally aligned with your entrance, face pulling back to look at you, panting. There was a string of saliva connecting your kiss-swollen lips to his, both of your faces were flushed and a new heat filtered through the air around you. “Ready?” You nodded, your hands coming up to wrap around his Izaya’s shoulders.

There was a muttered “I love you” before he steadily pushed inside of you, stopping to let you adjust every so often and waiting for you to nod and let him proceed. When your hips finally met you rested your forehead against his shoulder, taking a deep breath to steady yourself and then humming in reply when he asked if you were okay. Your voice was soft and a little shaky as you spoke, “G-go ahead, I’m fine now.”

He pulled out slowly, sending chills up your spine at the sensation of being empty again, before he snapped his hips against yours, ripping a gasp from your throat. He set a steady pace, as your nails scraped the skin of his shoulders, his breath heavy in your ears as mewls and moans filled the silence around you accompanied by the occasional slap of skin against skin.

Izaya’s lips made fiery trails across your throat, nipping at your collarbones, your jaw, your ear, and anything else he could reach and he pounded into you. Sweat started to bead at his temples, moisture sticking your hair to your forehead as he rocked into you, the bed frame creaking every so often from your movements. Pretty soon your legs were shaking again, your voice cracking as broken syllables and moans of his name fell past your lips, your own name coming from him in response. His pace quickened, movements growing sharper until he felt himself reaching his own peak. Suddenly he slowed, opting for long, hard thrusts. Each one bringing about new words, new reassurances.

“You are enough, m-more than enough,” another rock of his hips as you gasp out his name.

“No-one will ever take me from you, never,” a forceful kiss meets your lips.

“I could never be bored of you,” another thrust, your nails digging into his back. He moans quietly.

“I love you,” your walls are tight around him. “I love y-you, I love you, I love-” your orgasm makes you squeeze him tighter than expected, forcing him over the edge immediately, the last word breaking off into a low groan of your name.

Izaya rides out his orgasm, thrusts becoming slower until the two of you are just a panting tangle of sweaty limbs and feverish kisses, both of you coming down from the high. You can just barely make out the gentle fingers running through your hair as the two of you catch your breath, Izaya soon leaning back and pulling out of you, rolling off the condom, tying it and pitching it into the trashcan by the bed before he moves to lie beside you. You can feel yourself being pulled close to him and coming to rest your head against his chest, his words from earlier returning to the forefront of your mind and finally beginning to register. The reassurance, the solid confirmation that you really, honestly meant as much to him as you had hoped; it made you dizzyingly happy, a lazy grin making its way onto your face as you murmured to him, “I love you too, Izaya.”

You’re not sure how long it took after that for the two of you to fall asleep but when you woke the next morning you were pleasantly surprised to see his sleeping face, eyes shut peacefully and lips coming to an unconscious smile when you kissed him.


- Pasya