#it’s should be continuous as long as you’re standing it in and
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say my name and everything just stops || gojo satoru x reader
synopsis: You welcome Gojo back after a mission that lasted longer than expected.
(He fucks you on your desk)
word count: 2.6k
genre: canon compliant, smut
cw: porn with some plot, porn with feelings, vaginal sex, fingering, gojo is a tease, light angst, some fluff too, reader is afab, implied fwb, gojo calls reader sensei but they're both teachers
a/n: just a little thing for fun and practice :) enjoy!
more gojo x reader here
Though the sun is setting outside, you’re still at your desk, dutifully filing paperwork. You’ve dismissed the students a long time ago, of course, but you haven’t left the classroom yet. The door sliding open, though you haven’t heard any footsteps, has you glancing up, on high alert. The worry dissipates right away when you’re met with familiar white hair, a broad grin, and all-black clothing.
“Well, well, sensei,” Gojo Satoru says as he approaches your desk with a nonchalant pace, hands in his pockets, “working late, are we?”
“Gojo,” you reply, eyes back on the paper sheet in front of you. “How was your trip?”
“You know you can just ask Ijichi to do that for you, right?” Gojo continues, now standing in front of your desk. “No need for you to do all that by yourself.”
“Ijichi is busy,” you answer, unperturbed by the way he ignored your question. “You’ve been gone a whole week. Did something go wrong?”
“Aw, sensei,” he coos, “were you worried?”
You put down your pen to look up at him. You’re always worried, obviously. While you’re a teacher at Jujutsu High, the main role you’re expected to fulfill is that of strategist, to better coordinate group actions. You wouldn’t be able to do that without being at least a little paranoid.
It just so happens that you are very paranoid.
Faced with your stare, Gojo’s grin widens.
“Well, I guess they were happy to have me around and they had me fix all the little problems they hadn’t been able to get rid of by themselves,” he tells you with a shrug. “If I didn’t do it, no one was going to, so, might as well get everything taken care of in one go.”
It’s hard not to openly grit your teeth at his words. You’re not thrilled about the way Gojo just gets used and shipped off to wherever the elders deem fit. You and Shoko, on the other hand, are expected to remain caged in the more ‘safe’ properties, all in the name of the greater good. You’re not sure what good it’s doing. You still know better than to say it out loud.
“You stopped by Shoko’s before coming here,” you say. It’s not a question, and his face lights up at it.
“One day, you’re really going to have to tell me how you do that.”
It’s not that hard. A light smell of smoke lingers around him; the last button of his shirt is unbuttoned, likely because of an examination; there’s a pen sticking out of his pocket that you suspect he’s stolen off her desk; and he’s not wearing his usual travel shoes, meaning he changed since coming back to Tokyo, and knowing him, you must have been close to the top of his list of people to see, so you don’t think he went home, so Ichiji must have brought them to him at the lab.
You could easily have been wrong, of course. You just made an educated guess, and it worked out well for you.
“I found something weird out there,” he states matter-of-factly. “Didn’t need any patching up. C’mon, don’t tell me you were worried?”
You roll your eyes and push your chair back to stand up. He should have been back three days ago, and you didn’t hear from him. Not that the way your relationship works means you should have. It explicitly doesn’t.
“We don’t know what kind of curses are out there,” you say. “Anything could happen.”
“Aw,” Gojo says. “But you know I’m the strongest. I can take everything they throw at me.”
He says it with such absolute confidence that you want to believe him blindly, but all your instincts rebel at that idea. You can’t let yourself think he’s invincible. You can’t make your plans based on that idea. There’d be too much to lose if— if—
“With how gloomy you look, it’s hard to think you’re happy to see me,” Gojo pouts. “And here I was, thinking I’d get a warm welcome back…”
You scoff, fighting the smile that wants to break on your face, then make to move past him. You have no intention of actually leaving of course, but you know that—
Of course, the second he thinks you’re getting away from him, he grabs your wrist and twirls you around and into him. His arm wraps around your waist smoothly, presses your chest against his.
“Really? You’re not even a little bit happy?” He says it lightly, but you don’t miss the very light twinge of annoyance in his voice.
You like to think that you are one of the few people that can get a rise out of him.
It goes both way, of course, but now that you’re in his arms, after a week without touching him, anger and fear melt away all too easily, and all you want is him.
You put both of your arms around his neck, and push yourself on your tiptoes to capture his lips. There is a second during which he remains still, as if unsure, no matter how unlike him that would be. It’s like you don’t have him back yet, like there’s a part of him, of his mind, that is still out there with the curses.
But the moment passes, and then he’s kissing you feverishly. He pushes you back until you hit your desk, then helps lift you on top of it. The papers you’ve filled so dutifully fall to the floor, but he doesn’t care and neither do you. His warm tongue meets yours and you feel small moans escaping you, which he swallows hungrily. One of his hands sneaks under your shirt, the other pushes up your long skirt as he lifts up one of your legs, fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh.
You burry your hand in his hair, try to pull him closer to you, because fuck, you’ve missed him, you’ve missed the weight of his body on yours, and you want him, you need him to be as close as possible. He groans inside your mouth, and when your other hand moves down to trace his jaw, his neck, the muscles of his shoulders, before trying to unbutton his shirt, it turns into a full whimper.
Unfortunately, that sound also brings you back to reality, and while your body is an inferno right now, you feel your cheeks heating up even more.
“Wait, wait, Gojo—”
“Satoru,” he almost growls. Now that you’re trying to speak, he presses open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, then down your neck, sucking and biting lightly at the skin.
“Satoru,” you whine, left with no strength nor desire to fight him on that, “we shouldn’t— students could—”
“They’ve gone home,” he dismisses your worries easily. “None of them are going to show up here at this time.”
He’s hooking his fingers in your panties now, trying to slide them down your legs, but you catch his arm first. You’re quite the spectacle, breathless and panting, clothes half off. Even then, there’s that serious light in your eyes that just has him weak in the knees.
“Yaga— Yaga could—”
“If you think about it, that’d be doing him a favor,” Satoru hums. “Would give him some really, really good material, if you ask me.”
He doesn’t add that the material in question is all his, and that he’d never let Yaga catch you in the act, just for that reason. He doesn’t have to, because his answer makes you laugh softly.
You always laugh for him.
“He better not find us,” you warn him, as your grasp on his arm relaxes.
“Hm, that shouldn’t be a problem, as long as a certain someone can keep quiet…”
You roll your eyes, and then you pull him back down against your lips to interrupt his laugh.
He manages to get your panties out of the way, and then pushes a long finger inside you. You’re already so wet for him, he marvels as it slides in easily. He soon follows it with a second one, spreading you open carefully, and that’s when you throw your head back, closing your eyes and pushing your hand against your mouth to muffle your moan.
“So you’ve really missed me, huh?” he can’t help but tease as he chases your mouth. He’d love nothing more than to hear you loud and clear, but he knows you won’t risk it, no matter how empty the school is right now.
Underneath him, your body trembles, and he can’t resist any longer. He pulls his blindfold out of the way, drinking in the most beautiful sight he’s ever beholden. You’re trying your best not to let the pleasure get to you, but even then, you manage to open an eye to look at him, and you’re met with the stunning blue eyes you wish you could see more often. Something softens inside you, and you reach up to touch his cheek.
“Of course I’ve missed you,” you answer.
Shit. He doesn’t know how long he can keep this up. He’s already rock hard and all he’s done is rock against you. He wanted to take his time with you tonight, because all he’s had the past week is the memory of you, and that’s nowhere near enough, but it’s not looking like he will last that long.
“Yeah?” he insists as his thumb finds your clit and he starts rubbing carefully. “Thought about me while I was gone?”
You let out a loud cry, manage to cover your mouth again before another one comes out. Your thighs are trembling around him, and fuck, he’s going to have to fuck you real soon, otherwise he’s just going to burst in his pants without you even touching him, at this point.
“I’ve thought of you,” he tells you as he pulls his fingers out of you to get rid of his pants. “Thought of how good you feel around me, of how good you sound for me, of how pretty you are when you’re bouncing on my cock…”
He guides his cock against your entrance, presses it against you. You buck your hips, unable to stop yourself, but he doesn’t give it to you, not just yet.
“You really want it that bad, don’t you?” he practically purrs.
“Satoru,” you whine, and oh, if you knew what it does to him when you say his name like that… “don’t make me b— Ah!”
Finally satisfied, he sheathes himself fully inside of you, and fuck, it’s all he’s been dreaming of for days now. Next time he swears he’ll come running back to you the second he’s done with the stupid assignment. You reach up for him and he lets you, lets you dig your nails into his shoulder blades as you bury your face in his neck to stifle your moans. His hips set up a lazy pace at first, and you try your best to follow, try to meet him with small movements of your own, before you feel his breath against your ear.
“It’s all good,” he says warmly. “Just let me take care of you, babe. I’ve got you.”
That’s when he picks up the pace, and you’re left to writhe underneath him, whimpering his name desperately against his skin like a prayer, Satoru, Satoru, Satoru!
You come, shaking, around him when he brings his fingers to your clit once more, and he doesn’t lose a second of it. The high-pitched moan that you just can’t hold in, the way your head falls back, how your thighs shake on either side of him, it’s all so perfect. You’re perfect.
He does his best to let you ride your orgasm on his cock, but he comes inside you just a couple seconds later, unable to last longer. He collapses on top of you, and your labored breathing fills the room. Your hand on his back moves gently, tracing circles on the nape of his neck, gently running through his hair.
“If you’re not down for a round two just yet, I recommend you stop that,” he mumbles against you, only to regret it immediately, because you do stop.
“We should— we should take this elsewhere,” you say quietly.
Ah, now that’s more like it.
“I can call Ichiji and we could do that in the back of the car on the way home,” he offers cheerfully as he gets up, putting the blindfold back in place, though not before he can see you grimace in horror at his suggestion.
“Absolutely not,” you say firmly, though once more, he was only teasing. He’d never let Ichiji see you like that. “Although, if you could call someone to come clean up in here, just, uh, just in case…”
Cute.
“Done. Now, about that round two…”
“Else. Where,” you insist, and you don’t fall for his cute pout.
He sighs but takes your hand to help you to your feet, then turns around as he pulls out his phone. He’s about to hit Ichiji’s number when your fingers on his skin almost bring a shiver out of him.
“Shouldn’t this be healing?” you ask, frowning, and he realizes you’re talking about the marks you’ve left on his back.
“Nah, I quite like them, actually,” he grins back. “Don’t you?”
There’s a lot of unsaid things that hang between the two of you. A lot of things that are better left unsaid. Sadly, you’re too smart for your own good, and you know better. You leave them be.
“I was worried for you,” is what do you say.
Satoru’s expression shifts. The grin vanishes, and you can’t see his eyes, so you’re not sure how he’s feeling, not until the corner of his lips lift up in a soft smile.
“Thank you,” he says, voice uncharacteristically low.
Then he turns away from you, and he’s as loud and boisterous as ever when Ichiji answers.
Of course. The strongest can’t let himself grow soft.
You bend down to pick up your papers, rearrange them neatly on the desk, eyes still on him, on the animated way he moves around the room.
You think you’re more grateful than he knows, for him being back here. Not because he’s the strongest, not because no one gets rid of a curse like he can, but because he’s Satoru. It’s probably better that way, though. You’re both too busy for distractions.
With a sigh, you put your papers back on the desk, then start moving towards the exit.
“Aren’t we going?” you ask Satoru right as you’re reaching the door.
You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows.
“Hope you wrote all that down, ‘cause I need to get out of here,” he says on the phone, and you hear Ichiji protest, but that doesn’t stop Satoru from hanging up unceremoniously. He follows you in the hallway, shoulders brushing against yours without quite touching.
“Hey, if not in the car, there’s a supply closet on the first floor—”
“No.”
“Yaga’s office is probably—”
“Absolutely not.”
“How about in my bed?” he asks, right against your ear, breath tickling against your skin. Your cheeks heat up.
“…Sure.”
He only savors his victory for a second.
“What about the couch?”
“Don’t push it.”
But he does, and you let him.
How could you not, when you finally have him back?
still trying to get used to writing gojo's character, don't know if i quite have him just yet. i hope you enjoyed this, any feedback you have is welcomed and encouraged! reblogs and comments are what keeps me writing, so please engage with my work to let me know if you'd like to see more~
if you enjoy my writing, you can find more gojo x reader here
#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo smut#jjk smut#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo imagine#gojo x reader smut#gojo satoru smut#satoru smut#gojo fluff#jjk imagine#jjk x y/n#my writing
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Clothes make the man
Felix was typing furiously at his desk in the bustling newsroom, his eyes fixed on the screen and fingers dancing over the keyboard. As a volunteer at a major newspaper, he harbored ambitions of becoming a journalist in the economics department. Despite his intense dedication, securing a position there seemed increasingly unlikely.
The secretaries were unkind, refusing to provide any help as he tackled the workload alone. "Hey, Felix, can I have a word with you?" a voice called out from behind him. It was Lucy, the editor of the fashion department. "Sure, Lucy. What's up?" Felix turned around in his swivel chair to face her. "Our journalist for the fashion beat is sick today, and we need someone to cover an interview with Victor Vlein, the famous fashion designer. Can you do it?" Lucy asked, sounding hopeful.
Felix sighed, feeling utterly disinterested in the fashion world. "I've never covered fashion before, but I'll give it a shot." "Great! The interview is in an hour at Vlein's studio. Good luck!" Lucy flashed him a smile before hurrying off to attend to other business. Arriving at Vlein's studio, Felix composed himself and prepared for the interview.
As he entered, he was greeted by Victor Vlein, a tall, imposing figure with a stern expression. "Mr. Vlein, I'm Felix from the newspaper," he introduced himself, extending his hand. "Ah, the replacement journalist. Let's get this over with," Vlein replied curtly. Felix wasted no time and dove straight into the interview. "Mr. Vlein, your fashion seems to perpetuate outdated male stereotypes. What do you have to say about that?" Victor Vlein raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by Felix's directness.
"Appearance and reality often merge, young man. Maybe you should try on my designs to understand." Reluctantly, Felix agreed to try on Vlein's attire despite finding it utterly ridiculous.
Felix stood in Vlein's studio, trying on one of the designer's bold ensembles. As he struggled to pull the leather jacket over his shoulders, Vlein stepped forward, his dark eyes keenly assessing Felix's frame. "It's not working for me, Mr. Vlein. I don't see how this can change my perception," Felix remarked, frowning as he looked at himself in the mirror. With precise movements, Vlein deftly adjusted the jacket's collar, smoothing down the fabric over Felix's chest before moving to the trousers. His long fingers meticulously tucked and rearranged the pants, emphasizing the need for a wider stance, while his intense gaze seemed to be sizing up Felix's every reaction. "Please, Mr. Vlein, I don't think this is necessary," Felix protested weakly. Ignoring Felix, Vlein spread Felix’s legs, insisting that men should stand with a wide stance. "You see, the key to commanding respect is in how you carry yourself," Vlein explained, his deep voice echoing in the studio. "Stand with pride and confidence, as if you own the room." Continuing his transformative touch, Vlein lifted Felix's chin with a firm yet gentle grip, directing his gaze towards the mirror. "Hold your head high. Look at yourself as if you are the embodiment of power and authority," Vlein instructed. Then, with a surprising amount of intimacy, Vlein reached out to adjust Felix's hair, running his fingers through the strands and rearranging them with a sense of purpose. Suddenly Vlein grabbed his crotch and a visible bulge appeared in Felix's pants. Vlein remarked with a grin, “And always wear tight-fitting pants to show everyone that you’re the stud!”
The designer's touch was both unsettling and oddly soothing as he fashioned Felix's appearance to match his vision. Felix felt an undeniable discomfort as Vlein's hands roamed freely, but the sense of compulsion held him back from protesting. Throughout the entire adjustment, Felix remained speechless, his heart racing with a mixture of astonishment and unease. Finally, Vlein took a step back, his intense scrutiny softened by a look of satisfaction. "There you go, Felix. You look the part now. Embrace your masculinity. Own it," Vlein declared, taking a moment to appreciate the transformation reflected in the mirror.
Staring at himself in the mirror, Felix could hardly believe his eyes. He now resembled one of Vlein's runway models, his physique chiseled and free of any excess fat. Felix struggled to reconcile the image before him with his own sense of self. The chiseled features and powerful demeanor felt like an unfamiliar facade, imposed upon him by Vlein's deliberate manipulations.
Confused and shocked, Felix was informed by Vlein that he would remain like this for three weeks before returning to revert to his former self. "I think we're done here. Thank you for your time, Mr. Vlein," Felix said, fighting to maintain composure.
In the following days, Felix noticed a stark change in how people treated him. They acknowledged his authority, eagerly listening to him. Women in the office looked at him with desire, their eyes lingering on his transformed physique, willingly obeying his commands.
Colleagues hesitated to disobey him, instinctively acknowledging his newfound confidence. "Hey, Jeff, can you take care of these reports for me?" as Felix asked a colleague, handing over a stack of papers without hesitation. Delegating tasks became easier for Felix, and he began to adopt an air of arrogance in his interactions. He never hesitated to spread his legs wide and hold his head high, as Vlein had emphasized. People noticed the change in his demeanor, though few dared to question it. He effortlessly gained entry into the economics department, despite exerting much less effort than other applicants.
At the end of the three weeks, Felix hesitated to return to his former self. "What if I could stay like this for a bit longer?" he wondered.
Felix returned to Victor Vlein as agreed and stood in his studio, feeling a curious mix of discomfort and bewilderment. Victor Vlein, with a wry smile, fixed his gaze on Felix. "Tell me, Mr. Felix, how does it feel to be seen as an object of desire?" Vlein's voice had a subtle edge, as if he knew something Felix didn't. Felix felt a chill run down his spine as Vlein's question lingered in the air. "I'm not sure what you mean, Mr. Vlein," Felix replied, his tone guarded. Vlein's smile widened, and he took a step closer to Felix. "You're a journalist, aren't you? You must know the power of perception. Your appearance now commands attention, desire even. How does that make you feel?" "It's … unbelievable, to say the least," Felix confessed, averting his eyes from Vlein's piercing gaze. "I never sought such attention or... objectification." "But it's a reality in the world of fashion and influence, Mr. Felix. Appearance shapes perception, and perception shapes power," Vlein stated matter-of-factly. It was as if Vlein held the key to a truth that Felix wasn't ready to confront.
Vlein suggested reversing Felix's appearance as previously agreed, but Felix hesitated. He wanted to explore the power of appearance a little longer. "But Mr. Vlein, I feel different, confident, like I've never felt before," Felix pleaded, trying to convey his inner turmoil. "This change has brought about a newfound charisma and respect. I don't want to revert to my former self yet. Please, let me remain as I am now." Victor Vlein regarded Felix with a discerning look, contemplating his request. "You do have potential, Felix. I can see it," Vlein mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "I'll agree under one condition: you work as a model for some of my fashion shows. You'll be the perfect ambassador for my brand." Eagerly agreeing, Felix imagined nothing better than representing Vlein's cool fashion and showcasing his newfound confidence to the world.
Felix's heart hammered in his chest as he stepped onto the runway for the first time, his steps hesitant and uncertain. The bright lights blazed down on him, casting his shadow long behind him as he moved forward, each echoing footstep a testament to his trepidation. It felt like the weight of a thousand eyes bore down on him, scrutinizing his every move. His breaths came quick and shallow, his palms clammy as he fought to still the quiver in his hands. As he reached the center of the runway, the crowd's hushed whispers seemed to echo like distant waves crashing upon the shore, adding to the mounting pressure. But then something shifted within him. As he stood beneath the spotlight, the gazes of the audience melted into a symphony of admiration, their applause an electrifying crescendo that ushered in a wave of newfound confidence.
A sly smile tugged at the corners of his lips, the uncertainty vanishing like mist before the sun. With each step, his posture straightened, exuding an aura of self-assuredness that captivated the audience. The once nervous Felix had transformed into the epitome of a charismatic bad boy, commanding attention with every stride. Victor Vlein, observing from the sidelines, leaned over to his assistant. "Watch him closely," Vlein whispered, "he's fully succumbed to his new persona, embracing it with such ease. He's become the perfect embodiment of my brand, effortlessly captivating the audience as a sweet bad boy."
Meanwhile, at the newspaper, Felix's enigmatic transformation had not gone unnoticed. His magnetism drew attention, and his charm and newfound sense of self-assuredness propelled him to the top of his career in the economic department, despite having to exert much less effort than other applicants. Felix had indeed left behind the echoes of uncertainty and emerged as a shining star, basking in the dual realms of the fashion world and the prestigious economic landscape, successfully embodying both identities.
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I’ve noticed that a problem with the “Batman shouldn’t/should kill” debates around here is that a lot of people tend to self-insert themselves into the equation.
It’s always “if killing a violent guy in self defense is bad then I’m a murderer?” or “well, if it were me, I would’ve killed the guy a long time ago.”
Newsflash, you’re not Batman. You’re a real person where consequences can be applied and you need to live with whatever you’ve done.
Batman isn’t real. He’s a character owned by a massive company. In tense situations, you might often have no choice but to commit violence to save yourself. In a tense situation in DC, Batman has writers that can get him out of anything.
DC writers have the ability to write him out a situation where he could kill, with no violence committed and everyone safe. Now, whether or not they’d actually implement this kind of outcome is another issue entirely but the point stands.
Batman is a character with long-established personality, traits, moral code, history. Because he’s a fictional character, writers can’t change every single aspect of his character, they have to keep something otherwise they’re writing someone different. He’s not a real person whose sense of morality or justice can change as he ages and learns - because he can’t age. Rarely, he learns, but this chalks up to comics evolving over time due to the great conflicts/hot buttons of a specific time period when a story is being written.
“But Wasp! Writers self-insert themselves into Batman all the time!” You say. Yeah, they do. And 9 times out of 10, that piece of media turns out horribly wish-fulfilling and severely out of character continuity. Modern writers lost the plot when it comes to making Batman an undefeated god, but regardless he should be a hero.
Therefore, Batman shouldn’t kill because:
DC can always write him out of the necessity to kill.
He’s already been established for a long time to live and die by his own moral code.
He believes strongly in rehabilitative justice
He’s been established to be a symbol for a better Gotham. He kills, even discriminately, and then he’s no better than the hundreds of cops in his universe. Racism, classism, police brutality exist in Gotham. There’s full storylines and series about the GCPD and the role they fill in Gotham when Batman exists.
Batman does their jobs better than they do (usually). He’s supposed to represent justice in a way the police can never be. In a city like Gotham, fictional it may be, distrust and violence comes easy. Murder and assault runs rampant. A vigilante committing themselves to killing would do nothing to change Gotham, nothing to change the GCPD, nothing to project an image of safety, nothing for anyone.
Batman is Batman because he represents hope and compassion in a city without it.
#you want a vigilante that kills and is morally grey? read a damn Huntress comic#or Catwoman#or take your ass to Marvel Comics#Batman is never the character to project your personal belief in killing and death onto#you want to do that? stick to Jason#dc#dc meta#batman meta#batman#bruce wayne
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Intomba: Young Love
A/N: Hey Yaw! I know I been gone but I been busy. But I’m here now and I come baring gifts lol. For some reason this story is really close to my heart. Like I LOVE reader and Shuri! I combined my love for Angst with my love for a pretty love story and I hope you guys love it as much as I’m enjoying writing it.
Word Count: 9.6k
Pairing: Shuri/Reader
Contains: Friends to lovers, underage kissing, Love story, Angst, Struggle, Prison Shuri, manipulation, No smut for now this isn’t a smit heavy fic. There will be but I just wanted to write a story.
“Oh,God! Oh My God! I can’t believe it!” Bound to her wooden floors, her eyes locked onto mine. Stunned I should guess. Was it from my hardened appearance, or did my presence in general offend? I couldn’t have known. As our gazes lingered upon eachothers, I couldn’t help but notice after all these years, her eyes were still filled with a certain purity, guiltlessness, innocence. A simplicity, that I hadn’t been blessed to be in the presence of for a long time. Eight years to be exact. I couldn’t help but feel unworthy of it’s presence. Breaking our stare, I look down at my feet as they shuffle from side to side. Self-consciousness trickling through my veins as I continue to feel her gaze.
“I-I know I didn’t call. I didn’t have a number, only this address. I could find somewhere el-“
My body froze as I suddenly felt her body come in contact with mine. Rushing into me, she throws her arms around my neck. She trembled against me, and my eyes shut tight. The warmth of her embrace sending shock waves to my system. My arms remaining at my sides my mind not quite computing how to engage with the softness of this embrace. As my eyes remain shut I feel her pull away and soon after, fingertips gently caress each my cheeks. Slowly sliding from my cheeks, down my neck, and down my arms. She traced the art that now shadowed my caffeinated skin. “It’s really you.” The words pour softly from her lips, and I open my eyes slowly looking down at her lovingly.
“I’m not so sure about that.” I whisper, my eyes glazing over allowing her to continue surveying me as we stand in her doorway. Those eyes, they lift from my arms back up to my own, brows furrowing as she searches for meaning. I can spot the exact moment she finds it. Grabbing my hand, she lightly tugs at my arm guiding me inside of the small apartment. Once the door closes behind us, her arms wrap around me once again.
I grip onto her, hands shaking as they grip onto her waist. I can feel the dam about to break. But, She still knew me. She could feel it, smell it on me. Her hand gently rubbed my back. “It’s ok. You’re safe now Shuri.” And with no urge to fight,I close my eyes allowing the tears to flow as I breath her in, head buried into her neck. It hits like a wave, my body shaking with sobs as my knees went weak, and we sank to the floor. “I’m sorry Shuri. I’m so sorry this happened to you.” She sits in the center of the floor, my head on her bossom as her hands delicately stroke the top of my head; allowing me to release emotions that hadn’t been safe for me to release for eight years of my life.
And that’s who she was to me. My Amanzi, My water. When life would suck me dry. I ran to her and she replenished me.
I’m sorry. I don’t believe I’ve properly introduced myself. I’m Shuri. Now a days they call me Qamata. But, we’ll get into that later. I should explain what’s happening here. As i’m sure you’ve guessed, I’d just been released from prison, for what had supposed to have been a ten year bid. I got out in eight on good behavior. I was just a kid when I went in. 18. And there I was at 26 able to carry everything I owned in a paper trash bag. I remember feeling low. The equivalent of garbage. Cast away.
However, I wasn’t the delinquent youth that I’m sure you all are picturing. Far from it. I was top of my class. Dual enrollment. I’d graduated highschool at 17 as valedictorian, and having already secured a bachelors degree from the most prestigious university in Wakanda; where I would’ve finished out my education in Network engineering and computer science, had everything gone the way it was supposed to. But, Bast did it not. At a point in time I despised this life that I chose. It had taken the person I loved most in the world away from me. My brother.
At a point in time my father was the most feared man in the place we call The Bricks. His name was T’Chaka, they called him Uthixo. God Father. Pretty self-explanatory. He peddled his poisonous products to our community without remorse. Not a single regret. He was merciless, cold. So much so that he’d killed his own brother in cold blood after finding out that he was consorting with the enemy. Turned out my uncle N’Jobu, had been being held captive. Working for them under the pretense that his families lives would be taken. My father knew this. He still killed him, stating that N’Jobu was a liability. That was my father. His carelessness eventually cost him and my brother their lives. They were killed the same day. Their bodies riddled with bullets. My father and brother dangled from light poles on display like trophies.
T’Challa, my brother, he didn’t deserve it. He hadn’t wanted that life. And neither did I. My mother, myself, and my sister were exiled in a way. Shunned into dilapidated buildings struggling to make ends meet. My mother fell sick, and my sister was useless. She sold her body, and the proceeds went to her poisonous habit. She’d had three children since then that ended up mostly under the care of my mother. So as soon as I was of age I began to work in the mines. It was hard back breaking work for anyone, especially a teenage girl. But, it was my only option. My name. My Fathers name preceded me wherever I went. I worked hard to turn it around. And I began to succeed.
I am a certified Genius. If anybody was going to get us out of The Bricks. It would be me. But, Love. Love makes us silly, Ngaba akunjalo (Does it not)? I took one look at that pretty chocolate skin. Those big Doe eyes, and that big gravity defying hair and fell into a deep bottomless pit of eternal love….In love with you Sthandwa Sami. The girl who saw me hoarding my food from the cafeteria to take to my niece and nephews; even though I myself was by every definition of the word starving. So you started packing me a lunch everyday. Making me eat it infront of you. Stubborn Haha. The only person in the world who could tell me what to do. If only I’d known that that was only the begining of the things you’d be to me.
In all of my life, there were only two constants. Tragedy. And You. I remember the day everything changed. The day I knew I was in love with you.
Your buttery brown skin saturated with the suns rays blessed Shuri’s vision. Sitting across from her, a beauty that had changed the trajectory of her exsistence. Physically, you were a goddess to young Shuri, yes. It was apparent in the way she incessantly stole glances. Bast’s light shining on you making your skin, the shade of nutmeg, gleam like pyrite stone. Eyes like buttered chocolate, swirled with caramel crescent moons. Your juicy lips appearing as though they’re dripping in manuka honey. Big curls sat atop your head like a crown. Unapologetically kinky, defying earths gravity.
However, it was more than tangible for Shuri. Deeper than the eyes would meet. Your beauty was the flower be-speckled in the thin light of dawn. But, it was also the volunteer in a soup kitchen on a holiday missing their own family meal. It was majesty and self-sacrifice, it was all of the wonders of the natural world and our spiritual wholeness. It was the embodiment of the love God had for her people. For who are we to be blessed to walk amongst such an ethereal beauty.
“Shuri? Shuri!?” Shuri was startled out of her thoughts, sitting up straight in her seat. The pretty girl that had her transfixed, now speaking to her. She cleared her throat trying to play it cool.
“Yea? What’s up?” Scratching the back of her head, she looked down at the books infront of her, trying to avoid eye contact. Her heart heart rate was excelerated, and her face heated, she’d been caught.
“You’re not paying attention.” Finally, her eyes raise. Looking into deep brown orbs she could so easily get lost in. So beautiful.
“Yo. I was listening.” She spoke up defensively slouching back against her chair. Mirroring her actions from across the table, you cross your arms across your chest, squinting your eyes at your friend, cocking your head to the side.
“What did I just say, Shuri?” Shuri’s lower lip disappears between her teeth as she tries to swallow a smile. Her eyebrows raise, and her eyes shift from side to side. Your eyes narrow as the smile broke across her face, her eyes turning apologetic.
“I’m sorry.” She chuckles. Rolling your eyes, you suck your teeth quickly picking up and throwing it across the table at her. She catches it effortlessly. “A pencil?” Her eyes widen in faux shock. “You’re really trying to hurt me.” She says hand coming up to clutch her chest dramatically before a smirk curled her pretty lips.
“Yea, because you’re supposed to be helping me, but you keep zoning out!” Your face scrunches up in frustration. Though you couldn’t help but to admire how cute and dramatic Shuri was. With her perfectly chisled face, pretty lips, and perfect smile. Your tummy tingled a bit as the two of you seemed to get lost in eachothers gaze.
“Shhh!” Shuri’s attention was immediately grabbed by the sound. Her gaze snapping to a young man staring at you two his annoyance apparent, and so was Shuri’s. He’d interrupted a moment of rarity between the two of you everyone knew that Shuri’s annoyance wan much more dangerous than the average persons. The smile was still plastered on her face, her bottom lip now resting between her teeth. You see her glance your way out of the corners of her eyes and you shake your head.
“Shuri..” She turns to you fully throwing her hands up in defense.
“I’m not going to bother him Y/n. He’s absolutely correct. We should act like we have home training? We’re in a library. We should conduct ourselves properly. Yea?” Knowing better, your brow raises a frown distorting your face.
Shuri leans back in her seat a genuine smile plastered on her face, before her gaze returns to the boy.
“He’s safe Amanzi. However, for future references. It’d behoove you to watch your tone when you speak to her.” Suddenly her tone turned serious, eyes steadfast on him, the smirk on her face leisurely becoming a grimace. The boy shifts in his seat clearly uncomfortably. Shuri turned in her chair hunching over placing her elbows to her knees only deepening the stare staring a hole into the side of his face. Quickly closing his books, shoving them into his back pack, he scurries off to find a safer table.
“Ah maaaann! Are you leaving? Don’t goo!” She called after him sarcastically.
“He didn’t even say anything. Why’d you do that?” You chastise her.
“Yea he did. Remember? He said Shh. And it’s not what he said it was the maliciousness
in his tone.” A malicious grin spread across her face.
“Malicious- Girl.” You roll your eyes as laughter erupts from her throat. “We’re sorry!” You call after the boy.”
“Speak for yourself, thando” She replies.
You look at her like she’s crazy as she shrugs her non chalance.
“Anyway Shuri. If you’ve had enough of being a bully, could you please help me with this fucking calculus I only made it into this class because of you.”
Shuri’s outdated Kimoyo beads buzz against her wrist and another apologetic look crossed her face. You release an exasperated sigh, slouching down into your chair.
“Put your lip up. It’ll only take a second.”
“Khawulezisa!! (Hurry up)” You say. Shuri’s eyes roll to the back of her head as she see’s the holorgraphic name that appears. With great hesitance she answers the call.
“Challan, I’m at the library.” She answers, irritation seeping from her pores.
“Your Umama, is in the hospital. My kids were unattended for 3 hours.” Shuri’s heart drops into her stomach, immediately sitting up straight in her seat. Concern instantly crosses your face your back also straightening.
“What are you talking about?” Shuri could feel her heart racing in all of her pulse points while she waited for her sister to give her more details.
“Some complication with the cancer. I don’t fucking know. She’s good, but the kids haven’t eaten all day!” Shuri could feel her body began to heat up with rage.
“ChaCha! Feed them! They’re your kids! I don’t have time for this shit! What hospital did they take mother too?” A long suck of the teeth comes from the other end of the call and Shuri’s jaw clenches.
“What’s going on?” You mouth from across the table, and Shuri holds up a finger.
“If I had something to feed them with you think I’d be talking to you about it!” Shuri’s shut tightly as she counts backwards from 10 to try and calm herself.
“I don’t have any money Cha. Tell me where they took my mother.” She reiterated, rubbing a hand down her face, slouching against her chair once again. Your eyes never leave her watching her every movement.
“You’re lying. You always have money.”
“I have a job Cha…You should try one. I’m only 16. Im not a fucking millionaire. I’m making enough for bills, and food for me and mother. We’re barely scraping by with that. For some inexplicable reason, I’m still waiting for you to let me know where they took my mother Cha, I’m loosing patience.”
“She’s at General…You don’t care about your nephews and niece eating?”
“Just stay at the hospital. I’ll get them something when I get there.” Shuri hangs up in her face. Standing to her feet, and you begin stuffing your belongings into your book bag hurriedly. Shuri’s eyebrows furrow as she watches you.
“What are you doing?” You look up at her like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Coming with you to the hospital. Duh.”
“No. You need to stay here and finish studying. You’re exam is tomorrow.” Your head jerks back a look of offense taking over your face.
“Shuri get your shit together so we can go. Don’t play with me.” You finish putting away your things, throwing your bag over your shoulder.
“Stubborn.” Shuri huffed a small laugh, while doing as you said. You grab ahold of Shuri’s hand pulling her to the exit of the Library. The two of you running out, and hopping onto Shuri’s motorbike. You place on the extra helmet she always kept for you, and hold tightly to her waist before she takes off.
“Umama?” She speaks softly stepping quietly into the hospital room, hand in hand with you, not wanting to interrupt her if she was resting.
“Come on in baby. Im awake.” Ramonda announces her eyes lighting up at the sight of You and Shuri.
There was once a time in her life when her mother stood so tall, so strong. Graceful and elegant. Now she lie weak and frail. It rocked Shuri to her core everytime her eyes rested on her mother for too long.
“Umakazi! Umakazi!” The pitter patter of little feet followed the sound of little voices as they came crashing into their aunt, hugging onto her legs as she lowered herself wrapping them all into her embrace. You smile as you walk over to her mothers bed placing a gentle kiss to her cheek.
“Y/n, it’s good to see you.” She says lightly squeezing your hand.
“It’s good to see you too. I wish it was under better circumstances ofcourse. How are you?” A light smile lifting the corner of your lips.
“Blessed, intombi entle.” The smile on your lips widen. She never let her spirits fall no matter the circumstance and that was admirable to you for all that she had been through.
“Bast you all get bigger everytime I see you! Look at you.” A warm smile lingers on your lips as you watch Shuri tickle and interrogate her neice and nephews about their day.
“She loves those babies.” Ramonda chuckles as she watches along with you. You nod
“More than anyone, could truly understand.”
“Hey to you too sister.” Cha says sitting in the corner of the hospital room. Shuri looks up from the children only for a brief second. Still very off out from her and her sisters earlier conversation, but she chooses not to argue as of now. Instead she places a kiss to each child’s head and stands to her feet.
“Hey Cha.” She says before heading over to her mother. Removing your hand from Ramonda’s grasp you step back allowing Shuri access to her mother.
Leaning over her mother, she places a gentle kiss to her foerhead, smoothing her hand over hair, “How are you feeling, mama?” Ramonda looks up at her daughter a weak smile passing over her lips.
“I’m just fine little girl.” Shuri smirks. That was always her answer.
“Yea. Well I’ll let your doctor tell me how true that is.”
“Don’t you go getting all worked up over me now. How are you?” She asked lifting her hand to Shuri’s cheek.
“Worried mama.” Shuri whispers, eyes revealing the truth behind that statement.
“I am ok. My dear, and there’s no need at all to be worried. You have all the strength you need to survive, and not to mention an abundance of knowledge. You are an Udaku. As much you want to renounce that name It holds alot of power. Every once in awhile you’ll need to tap into it.” Shuri didn’t like this conversation. She didn’t like it one bit. Her eyes searched her mothers face a since of dread washing over her.
“Mama? What’s happening what’s going on?”
“I need to head out it’s getting late. Shuri you got cash so the kids can eat?” Cha stands from her seat appearing eager to leave. Shuri stands to her full height, over Cha’s attitude.
“You don’t see me talking to my mama?” Shuri’s face scrunches, and Cha folds her arms across her chest rolling her neck.
“Well like I informed you earlier. My children haven’t eaten all day. So I need to go and get them fed.”
“And since you’re depending on ME to feed them it would be smart of you to wait until I finish talking to mother.” Shuri rebuts
“I don’t have time to wait for you.” Shuri chuckles.
“Oh I’m sorry, is the crack calling?”
“Shuri!” Both you and Ramonda interject reminding her of the presence of Cha’s children.
The doctor enters the room, as Shuri and Cha grill each other from across the room.
“You must be Shuri.” A polite smile graced his face as he approached Shuri his hand outstretched.
“Yes.” She says softly before taking his hand to shake.
“Nice meeting you young lady. I am Doctor W’Kabi. There are a few things that I need to go over with you and your family. Is everyone in the room authorized to hear?” You stand to your feet.
“I’ll head out. Shuri how about you give me the money for the food and I take them downstairs to eat so you all can talk.” Shuri’s eyes soften at the sound of your voice. She nods reaching into her pocket to get her wallet.
“Uh! Excuse you? I don’t know her Shuri! She’s not taking my kids anywhere!” Her eyes land on you looking you over with a condescending stare.
“And I’m not giving YOU money. So it seems we’re at an empass here sister.” The tension growing thicker between the two siblings. Shuri’s eyes squinted, her legs slightly parting as she locked her fingers together at her hips. Cha’s nostrils flared as she looked back and forth between you two.
“Girl fuck you.” You immediately step forward..
“Uh uh, that’s enough. You may not know me but I know that Shuri is constantly sacrificing to help you feed your own children and your not about to keep disrespecting her in front of me.” Cha smirks stepping forward.
“Little girl, What do you think you’re gonna do?” Yoo step forward as well never being one to back down but Shuri immediately grabs your arm.
“Chill.” She says pulling you behind her. “Cha, this is not a problem you want. Now Y/n is going to take the kids to get food Sonwe can talk to the doctor.” Turning around to face you, Shuri sees that your eyes were still set on her sister. She touched your cheek bringing you back to her.
“Hey, calm down. Just handle this for me so I can find out what going on with my mother.” Your eyes finally land back on Shuri’s face as you calm down. You nod.
“I am. I got it. She’s just disrespectful as hell.” You say mumbling pulling yourself away from Shuri’s grasp and gathering the children. Shuri can’t help but smile a bit as she watches you leave the room. Knowing you would have much more to say. When all of the commotion was finally over Shuri brought her attention back to the doctor.
“I apologize for the disruption Doctor. You may continue.” Shuri looks over at her mother who had been abnormally quiet throughout the hostile exchange. She seemed dazed, just trying to keep herself awake. She turned back to the doctor needing to know what was going on.
“Yes.. Well.” Dr. W’Kabi says moving right along. “Earlier before your arrival we were discussing the current state of the cancer. Unfortunately, it has spread, and it’s becoming very aggressive, taking a major toll on her body. I’m sorry to say it’s only going to get worse from here.” It felt like a punch to the gut, and tears streamed from Shuri’s eyes.
“S-so what do we do? What do we have to do?” Shuri’s eyes glanced over the room. Challan remained steadfast in her spot almost looking as though this was all inconveniencing her.
“We’ve discussed it being best that your mother goes into a hospice facility.” Shuri froze. Her world begining to feel as though it was crashing around her.
“N-no, no, no. W-We can’t afford a facility.” Shuri says through her tears.
“There are low income options that are covered by the state th-“
“I know what you’re talking about, and I’m not letting my mother go there. They don’t give a fuck about those people!”
“Shuri..” Ramonda’s voice came out in a whisper behind her. Shuri turns to her mother.
“No mama. You’re not going there!”
“I-I’m sorry, young lady. Your mother has already allowed your sister to fill out the paper work.” Shuri’s head whipped around again. Confusion taking over her as she stared at the doctor in disbelief. She scanned the room once again her eyes like daggers landing on Cha.
“You did what mama?” She whispered, addressing her mother as she grimaced at her sister. “Cha doesn’t give a fuck about you! You let her sign you into a death trap?!” Her voice now raised, trembling with all of her bubbling emotions.
“You know what. I’m sick of your shit Shuri! I’m the oldest, and I can damn well help take care of mama!”
“Bitch! Your brain is fucking fried you can’t even take care of your damn kids!”
“STOP IT!” Ramonda’s voice carries throughout the room, strong this time making them both freeze as they had a stand off in the middle of the room.
“Doctor could you please give us a moment.” Dr. W’Kabi slightly bows his head as he steps out giving them space to talk.
“As long as the two of you are breathing. I don’t want to hear you disrespect eachother the way you have today. You’re treating one another like strangers and like it or not. The two of you are all you’ve got in this world. So you may not like eachother. But, you better figure out how to love. Do you understand me?” Both of the sisters held their poster. Looking the other over as though they were forever enemies.
“I said do you understand me!” Her vice raises again and the two of them finally answer their mumbled agreement.
“Challan step out.” Ramonda commands as Shuri’s nostrils flare, her breathing excelerated as she mugged her sister as she stormed from the room.
“Alright that’s enough Shuri.” Shuri snaps back around to her mother.
“Mama this is crazy!”
“What’s done is done. It’s my decision and I did what I had to do for you.”
“For me? This isn’t for me mama I need you. What am I supposed to do without y-“
“You’re gonna make it. Is what you’re going to do little girl.” Shuri shut her mouth. As the tears flow.
“I ca-can’t mama. I can’t.” Ramonda’s own tears began to flow.
“It’s time Shuri, and I need you to figure things out.”
“I don’t have anybody else. They’re gonna put me in the system.”
“No. Cha’s of age so I’ve allowed her to be placed as your legal guardian.” Shuri’s eye almost take over her face at this information.
“WHAT! Cha’s supposed to be my guardian and she’s hanging on to her kids by a thread!”
“Let me talk girl damnit….I wish that me and your father did better by all of you. I live in constant regret of the way the lifestyle we chose tore apart our family. What it did to my dear T’Challa.” Ramonda chokes up at the mention of Shuri’s brother who was killed along with her father fighting a senseless gang war. A tear fell from Shuri’s eyes. She missed her brother everyday. “ All of those late nights. The money. The power. And now I have nothing to give. Grief has made me sick in my body. I’ve held on this long for the two of you. Allowing Cha guardianship over you gives you time. And hopefully it will pull you closer again. You’ve been blessed with amazing gifts Shuri. Don’t let struggle over take you. Continue excelling in your studies and you’ll get all of you out of Brick District.”
“Ma- I”
“Shuri.. I’m not asking you. I need you to do this. I understand this is a lot to put on the shoulders of a teenaged girl and I hate that this is the only option. You need to focus. I need to know you hear what I’m saying.Take the curse from our families name.” Shuri looked at her mother her eyes clenching shut. This was it. She was her only way out.
“Yes Umama.” She whispers. Ramonda lifts her hand again raising it to Shuri’s cheek. “I love you child. And I’m so sorry for the life your father and I chose. But, you’ll be better. You’ll be great. Promise me that.” Shuri’s eyes fluttered as she held back tears.
“Yes Mother. I promise.” Shuri says softly.
Shuri leaned down. Placing a gentle kiss on her mothers cheek.
“Come see me as much as you can. I love you. But you’re not going to sit and sulk in this hospital with me any longer. They’ll be taking me shortly.” Shuri broke, she lay next to her mother a moment allowing her tears to fall as Ramonda comforted her. Rubbing her head as she snuggled into the crook of her neck.
“You’re going to be great girl. You’re going to change lives.“ Shuri lay there for a few more minutes before standing to her feet wiping away her tears.
“I love you mama.” Ramonda smiles.
“Go child. I’ll see you soon.” Shuri nods, slowly turning to walk out of her mothers room.
“Oh Shuri?” She calls and Shuri turns once more. “Tell Y/n how you feel.” Shuri’s heart drops into her stomach. Her sexuality had never been a topic of conversation between her mother and her. But, she knew. Of course she knew. This causes a light smile to lift the corners of Shuri’s lips, before she exited her mothers room.
Your head quickly lifts, as the door opens. You stand from the bench that you’d been sitting in, approaching Shuri, concern etched into your face. Shuri takes in her surrounding.
“Where’s Cha and the kids?” The tone of her voice almost broke you. Though her head was held high as she walked out of the room. Her voice gave way to her pain.
“Cha came and snatched them up. So I just came back to wait for you.” You say softly. Shuri nods, as you step forward.
“You ok?” Shuri just shakes her head, stepping forward into your arms. Her’s snaking around your waist, laying her forehead onto your shoulder, allowing her tears to flow. Silently, you wrap your arms around her shoulders lending your wordless comfort.
“Cha signed mother into the counties hospice facility.” She whispered against your neck. Her tears soaking through your shirt.
“What?” It comes out like breath, You were taken aback. Hospice? “Oh Bast. Shuri.” Your eyes welled as you rubbed gentle circles into her back. Her news struck a bit of fear within you. What now? What would happen to her? So many questions went through your mind but now wasn’t the time. You chose to continue lightly stroking her back as she wept into your shoulder.
“I can feel you worrying through your fingertips Amanzi.” Shuri says, pulling herself up. Almost as though it was reflex you reached up placing your hand to her cheek flicking away her tears with your thumb.
“I’m sorry. I-I’m just. What’s going to happen to you?” Shuri sighs her hand coming up to grip the wrist of your hand that cupped her cheek.
“Cha is now my legal guardian.” Your mouth drops.
“Cha? Cha? As in your sister that can’t take care of her own kids? How does that work? Are you going to move with her? What if- “
“Y/n.” She cuts you off with a finger beneath your chin. Her thumb gently pressing against your lips, before it slides down your soft lips. Your body immediately froze. The touch felt so much more intimate than she’d ever touched you before. Your eyes locked on to hers as she spoke to you.
“I work. I’ll figure this out.” You let out a slightly shaky breath trying to cover up how much her touch had effected you.
“Shuri you’re only sixteen. There’s only so much you can handle.” Shuri’s thumb now traced your lower lip and it seemed as though her eyes were focused there before her gaze finally met yours.
“I don’t have a choice.” She whispered.
Your eyes welled. No matter how unfair. She was right. This was her reality. No amount of feeling sorry, or worrying about her was going to change that fact. So you swallow your tears. Looking up at her still wrapped in her embrace.
“And you’ll never go through it alone.” That was a solemn promise that you would forever keep. Shuri’s heart heard it. She nodded slowly. Eyes never leaving yours. It was a silent agreement that you would remain beside her through the thick of it. Little did either of you know there was a pull inside of both of you. To seal your agreement with a kiss. However neither of you wanted to loose the other. And not knowing the others intent caused you both to step out of the intimate embrace. Clearing your throats awkwardly.
“Uh, I should get you home.” You nod in agreement.
“Yea.”
The sun was begining to set as the two of you rode through the city. The two of you taking a short detour to Shuri’s so that she could give you notes for your exam tomorrow. The ride was quiet and peaceful. You held Shuri tight allowing her to process her thoughts. Once at her apartment building the two of you head up stairs. The trip was meant to be in and out, but Shuri would never allow you to be outside alone in her neighborhood. Though yours wasn’t the safest either, she’d never allow you to be hurt on her watch.
Unlocking the door to the apartment, You both step inside, and Shuri hits the the light switch….and nothing happens. Shuri flicks the switch back and forth a few times silently before her shoulders slumps. Her head drops and her eyes shut tightly. Before….
“Fuuuuck!” She hauls off punching the wall above the light switch several times. Her final straw for the day being reached.
“I’m tired! I’m of this struggle shit!” You could see the emotional exhaustion take over her. Her body finally collapsing to the floor and down you went with her. Cradling her head against your bossom.
“I know”, was all you could give. Because after the today there wasn’t much comfort in words. Shuri had been through enough to break most adults.
“You’re not alone Shuri. You’re not by yourself.” You whisper as you hold her rocking her in your arms. The two of you held that position. You hummed to her. Rubbing her head until you felt her breathing slow, her grip loosening around you.
“I should get you home.” You hear her muffled words.
“I’m not going anywhere.” You immediately rebut. Shuri pulls herself away from you, shaking her head.
“No. You need to get home. This is not your problem. I don’t have power or any food. I gave Cha my last few dollars for the kids. I’m tapped out. I’m going to take you home. Tomorrow I’ll see if I can get an advance at work or something. It’s only one night. I’ll figure it out.”
“You haven’t figured it out yet?” You ask.
“I’m not leaving you here alone, and hungry in the dark.”
“And just how do you plan to pull that off. Your mother hates me and my family. You think she’s about to let you have a sleep over at my place.” Shuri chuckles sarcastically. “Anyway, I can’t keep letting you do this. These are my struggles y/n. Maintaining a friendship doesn’t require you taking on my burdens. I would never ask that of you.”
“You haven’t. I’m offering my back to help carry some of the weight Shuri. You can’t do this alone. You were hit with a lot today, and I couldn’t sleep at night knowing your here pretending you don’t have anyone else. I love you, and right now you don’t need to be alone. More than ever you need someone in your corner, and it’s important to me that I’m that person, So let me be.” Shuri’s heart skips a beat as she looks into your eyes, her lip trembling. After the city had shunned her and her family, you’d stepped up. Refusing to lump her into her fathers sins. You and your friendship meant the world to her.
You stood to your feet reaching for her hand pulling her to her feet.
“I’m going to call Nevaeh and tell her I’m going to tell mom I’m staying with her. I’ll get a few dollars from her and some food. We’re going to get some candles and batteried for flashlights and we’re gonna thug this out together. And you don’t have a choice.”
Another tear rolled down Shuri’s cheek as she silently nodded letting out a small exhale. You reach up wiping away the tear quickly before taking your hand in hers.
“Let’s go.”
As of now there were so many words that Shuri wanted to say. So much gratitude she had that she wanted to spill over into you. She battled inside with it, and finally decided to settle on a simple. “Thank you.”
Shuri gets you home. Parking a block away so that noone notified your mother about who you’d been with. Their weren’t many parents who would be fond of their children befriending Uthixo’s daughter. So she steered clear of your mother. Not wanting to cause a riff in your home. So, you ran up to your apartment quickly to grab the things you’d need for the night, as Shuri sat waiting on her bike, under the disguise of the nights darkness.
Thunderous bass reached her ears before the brand new black escalade approaching her came into view. A long sigh escaped her lips. She rolled her eyes, taking off her helmet, swinging a leg over the front of her bike. She sat to the side elbows to knees…waiting.The truck slowly rolled to a stop in front of her. The window rolling down to a smile filled with gold.
“What up lil cuz! I ain’t seen you around these parts in a minute. I thought y’all let them run y’all outta town.” He chuckles. Shuri’s face scrunches up in annoyance.
“N’jadaka.” Her voice was nonchalant. Demeanor calm, as she waited for her older cousin to state his business.
“I can’t check up on family? We are still family. I know Unc didn’t give a fuck about that. But, I do. Y’all been straight? I’ve seen Cha around and she not lookin’ too good.” His eyes appeared concerned but the small smirk on his lips showed his true face. Shuri chuckled unamused.
“Funny…You think we don’t know you’re feeding her the shit that’s got her fucked up?” He finally allowed his smile to break free.
“Ah man baby cuz…See that’s business. She was getting ahold to that shit before I came along. We both know that.” He took a break to take a long drag of a blunt sitting between two fingers. “You a genius and shit right. You know whether I was giving it to her or not she was gon’ find it. Might as well be family.”
In a way he was right. Cha had always been the type to end up in things she wasn’t supposed to. But, that was still no reason to allow her to indulge. Shuri decided to ignore his comments. Choosing silence, hoping that it would speed up this exchange. She wasn’t in the mood.
“Look lil cuz. I know you don’t trust me because of what your pops did to mine and all. Y’all think I’m out to get you and shit. It’s a valid fear.” Shuri chuckled once again now sliding off of her bike choosing to lean against. Shuri held no fear in her heart for N’Jadaka. “But, I want you to know there’s no hostility between you and me. You ain’t have shit to do with that. As a matter of fact with my status out here and your smarts. We could team up. Run the biggest most undetictable operation Brick District ever seen.” Shuri shakes her head a smirk on her face, leaning against her bike.
“You do realize I’m 16 right?”
“Yea. But you mature and shit, and you got heart lil nigga. You ain’t scared of shit. That’s the brilliance of it man. Nobody would suspect you. The genius girl trying to stay under the radar. Trying to denounce her fathers name. No one would ever believe you would get back into this shit.”
“Because wouldn’t.” Shuri says matter of factly, crossing her arms over her chest and crossing her legs at the ankle. Killmonger scanned her. Taking note of her calm demeanor. Not an ounce of fear detected. He smirked. He admired that about Shuri. Young and fearless.
“Wouldn’t you though? I know y’all over there struggling. Your sister has a lot to say when she’s off a bean. You 16 working the fucking mines to keep food on the table. That ain’t no life for a child man.”
“But dealing is?” Shuri’s eyebrow raised as her voice went up an octave. “If you give so much of a fuck why not help us? You’ve got it right?”
“Nah, I don’t give shit for free. Family or not. You earn your keep. Your traitor ass daddy taught me that.”
“Well, I am not my father.” N’jadaka took the moment to lean out of the window. Taking a slow drag, blowing smoke into Shuri’s face.
“Wrong lil cuz. You’re the most like your father. You can’t outrun that shit.” Staring into N’jadaka’s eyes, Shuri bit into her cheeks jaws clenching. Tension building in the loud silence.”
From the corner of her eye Shuri sees you rushing over your bag thrown over your shoulder. N’Jadaka’s eyes follow Shuri’s, a smile spreads across his face.
“That’s you?” Shuri’s eyes cut over to him. Her face warming up slightly.
“What?” Taking notice he teases a bit more.
“That pretty little lady walking over this way. That your girl?” Suddenly the calm demeanor that Shuri wore earlier was becoming a bit less cool.
“What are you talking about?”
N’jadaka throws his head back laughing. He found it. A weakness. “Don’t play coy with me. I know you don’t think you give off you like boys vibes.” Shuri’s face flushed.
“Kiss my ass.”
“She’s a lil cutie.” He chuckles as you approach.
“Hey.” You say to Shuri and Shuri only, as you walk up looking between the two.
“Hey.” Shuri says grabbing her helmet.
“Heeeeey.” Killmonger says a smile taking over his face. You stare at him face upturned in disapproval. He lets out a hardy laugh at this.
“Yea she’s the one for you lil cuz. Looks like you and your lil lady friend got somewhere to be. So I’ll let you go.” He smiles looking you over and then turns his attention back to Shuri. “Remember what we talked about. You know where to find me.” You and Shuri watch as he slowly drives away.
“You ok?” You ask turning towards Shuri.
“Yea. I’m cool. Just N’jadaka being himself.”
“Well whatever that was stay away from it. I know Killmonger doesn’t want anything good from you.” Turning to look at you. Shuri bites her lip nodding her head.
“Yea.” She whispers to herself. “Let’s go.”
The two of you now sat on the bed in Shuri’s room lit by candle light. Studying using a small lantern for light. You’d brung a small wireless speaker that kept a great charge. Soft music played as you two studied and ate the food and snacks you’d snuck from home. Shuri had to admit she was grateful that you’d stayed. With you with her, her struggle didn’t feel so much like struggle. You’d made the night pleasant. The two of you talking and laughing as though this was just a normal sleep over.
“Ok. I think I got it now. I feel confident that I can ace this test now.” Shuri’s eyes lit up as she smiled at you.
“You were always gonna ace the test. You know this stuff.” You smile back at her looking into her eyes.
“Yea.” You say softly. The two of you sat in silence for a moment as music played softly in the background. Shuri layed back in her bed. Closing her eyes her hands resting behind her head. She seemed content in the moment as you looked her over. You recognized that when you looked at Shuri. When you were around Shuri, something felt different. Shuri in the few years you’d know her had grown to be your best friend. However, something about the friendship the two of you had seemed like more. It was weighing heavily on your mind as you continue stealing slight glances at Shuri, and you couldn’t hold it anymore.
“Shuri?” You say breaking the silence.
“Hm?” She reply’s her eyes still closed.
“Do um wh-why…We never talk about crushes and stuff.” You say mentally face palming. Real smooth Y/n. Your heart was pounding and your palms started to sweat a bit. Shuri’s eyes slowly opened as she turned to face you hearing your nerves through the question. She sat up clearing her throat a bit her nerves picking up a bit as well.
“W-what do you mean?”
“I’m just saying that we’ve been friends for awhile, and we’ve never talk about people we like or anything. Is that weird?” Shuri is silent for a moment. Her mind reeling a bit. Where did this come from?
“Uh..I mean yea. I-I guess. Is that something you want to talk about with me?” Shuri’s heart was dropping into her stomach. The last thing she wanted was to have to talk to the girl she loved about some boy she was crushing on. But, she had to have seen this coming right. This was the cherry on top of a shitty day.
“I don’t know.” You whisper. “But we’re bestfriends, we should want to right?”
“I guess…So do you? Do you like someone?” Shuri didn’t want to know this in the slightest.
“I-I think I do. I’m not sure.” Shuri felt her heart shatter. She nods and for some reason she as much as this conversation was breaking her she’d decided to continue.
“W-who is he?” You shake your head.
“It’s a she.” Shuri’s back straightened her interest fully peaked now. A girl. You liked another girl? Shuri’s heart was now pounding.
“You like girls?”
“I never really thought about it before. But, I do know I like her and it feels like it’s in more than a friendly way.”
“Oh.” Shuri felt like she could cry. You liked girls and you still didn’t see her that way.
“What about you? Is their anyone who’s caught your eye?” Shuri sighs
“It wouldn’t really matter. It’s not like anyone would be interested in dating me around these parts. Maybe I’ll be more experienced when I go to college.” She says softly. You move a bit closer to her grabbing her hand.
“That’s what you really think? That noone is interested?” Shuri nods, she could feel herself falling into a pit. Feeling a bit more alone again. Knowing you were interested in women and yet she still had no chance.
“There’s no one that you’ve been interested in though.” You press a bit. Shuri brings her gaze up studying your face.
“Yea.” Her voice was soft, almost hesitant. “She’s perfect too. More beautiful than I could ever describe. But, like I said she isn’t interested.” A lump forms in your throat.
“A girl? Y-you like girls too?” Shuri smirks slightly. “I’m not sure. But, I know I like her.” She says and the butterflies take over your belly as your gazes lock onto eachother. You don’t know what comes over you but, you can no longer hold your tongue.
“I see the way you look at me Shuri.” She freezes. Heat over taking her body.
“H-huh?”
“The long glances when you think I’m not looking. I see them.” Shuri’s hand begins to shake nervously. She’s left speechless. She has no idea what to say. So you continue. “I-If I’m the girl you’re talking about…I’d say I’m definietly interested. Because you’re who I’m talking about.” You swallow your nerves. Figuring it was now or never. Shuri’s jaw dropped, She felt as if a sudden jolt of electricity had coursed through her veins leaving her momentarily stunned.
She couldn’t lie and say she that wasn’t something she did. She could hardly consentrate around you. Ofcourse at one point or another you would’ve seen her. Now here you were under the glow of candlelight. Your pretty skin lit to perfection. Using those beautiful lips to tell her you felt the same and she couldn’t utter a word.
“I only saw because when you weren’t looking I was stealing glances too. I guess you were too busy thinking no one wanted you to notice.” Shuri finally finds her voice though it comes out soft and breathy. The way her heart was pounding making it difficult for her to breath.
“I-I wanted to s-say something. I just didn’t want to lose you. Y-you’re just so much more than a crush to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you. You entered my life at the lowest point. My family lost its protector and we were being shunned. Life as I’d known it was over. I thought I’d never know what it was like to love and be loved again. And then this pretty girl with big eyes, and big hair, that always smelled like a bakery came out of nowhere. Dried my tears, fed me, cared for me. The love you have for me gets me through. You rescued me Sthandwa sami. I couldn’t risk loosing you. I don’t even like thinking about a life without you.”
Oh, to be loved. That was the day you felt it. The day you found out what it was to truly feel and be loved. Tears fell from your eyes. Now you were the one left speechless. Shuri reached up cupping your cheek in her hand wiping away your tears with her thumb.
“Y/n?..” Her voice gentle.
“Yes.” You breathe.
“Can I kiss you?” Your heart fluttered as you nod lightly. It was like a gravitational pull, the way your lips slowly found eachothers. A sweet innocent peck placed on one another’s lips. And then another, and then another, until your lips would not unglue. Shuri leaned back into the headboard and you slowly climb onto her lap as her arms snacked around your waist.
And there the two of you found home.
Needing to breathe the two of you part looking into eachothers eyes cheeks warming as you break out into a giggle.
“Wow.” You say. Shuri smiles, her thumbs rubbed gentle circles into your sides as she looked up at you.
“So…Um Would you like to be my girlfriend?” Shuri asked softly still a bit unsure. Still hardly believing this was happening. The smile on your face could’ve lit the night.
“Of course I do.” Shuri bit her lip to contain her excitement. Leaning up to place another gentle kiss to your lips.
“You have to promise me something.”
“Anything.” She says without an ounce of hesitation in her voice.
“I know you’ve been through a lot, I know life is doing a number on you even now. It’s made you have to mature much faster than the rest of us I know. There may not be much that I can do to make things easier for you. But, I can be here. I know one day we’re going to get out of the bricks. We’ll be happy living out our dreams. You’re so gifted I know you’ll have to leave at some point to bring evolution to the world. Even then, if we loose eachother along the way and the world you find brings you hard times, I’ll always be here.” You place your finger onto her chest where her heart thumped loudly. “Wherever I am in the world. No matter how shunned, or ostracized you feel. Know that I love you, not out of any obligation. Simply because I want to. Remember I’ll never be to far for you to come home to. My arms will always keep you safe and warm. Promise me you’ll remember that.”
You poured out your heart as tears streamed from both of your eyes. Her hands gripped tighter against your hips as she shook with emotion. There were no words she could be said to make you understand the security you’d given Shuri with your statement. All she could do was lean forward placing her lips to yours. Inside that kiss you felt her promise.
The two of you fell sound asleep in eachothers arms that night. Your hands pressed delicately pressed against eachother hearts. The next morning Shuri drops you off at school, sending you off with a light kiss and encouragement for your exam. She wouldn’t be going to school today she had to hustle up money to get her lights turned on at home. She went to her job working an early shift seeing if she could get a loan. They were willing but she could get it until the next week. She went home searching for anything of value to pawn. But their valuables had been taken by the police after her father had passed. She was hitting a dead end on all fronts.
Shuri found herself riding aimlessly through The Bricks. Wind blowing through her shirt. Stress weighing heavily on her shoulders. As she rode she found herself traveling a familiar path. One she hadn’t been to since her father was alive. One she vowed to never step foot in again. Her bike came to a stop in front of a massive warehouse. She swore she’d never resort to this life. Now here she was tail tucked between her legs going back to the only life she’d known. She closed her eyes and let out a small breath before taking off her helmet and hopping off of her bike, making her way around the back of the building. She banged on the door hard 3 times, and soon after a latch opened and a pair of eyes appeared through the Judas hole.
“What you need?”
“I’m here for N’jadaka.”
“Who dat?” Shuri rolled her eyes.
“You know who I’m talking about. I’m not calling him fucking Killmonger.” She hears laughter come from the other side of the door.
“Let her in Hemp.” The door opens and Shuri steps in. Topless women cooked dope and men counted racks of money. Flashes of her brother walking down the stairs with his infectious smile went through Shuri’s mind. Her mother strutting through the rows of women making sure the coke was perfectly distributed. Shuri’s eyes scanned over the building until they land on Killmonger. Visions of her father sitting dressed to the nines a cigar placed in between his lips. “You’re my prized possession intomba. I do this all for you.” He would say. She shook off the memories. Her gaze locking onto N’Jadaka’s who sat leaned back in the sitting area, a telling smile on his face. Shuri made her way over to him.
“Little cousin. Here so soon. How can I help you?” Shuri’s jaw clenched a bit. Angry with herself for being here. She stands there quietly. Her eyes looking ove all of Killmongers henchmen. He immediately got the hint. She wasn’t going to speak until they cleared area. He signaled for the men to leave and they all filed out. Shuri threw a glance over her shoulder, before turning her attention back towards him.
“I need your help.” She says m, undertones of defeat in her voice.
“Help? What kind of a help?”
“I need a job…and a loan. I won’t beat around the bush. The mines isn’t cutting it. Mama’s in hospice and Cha’s useless. The lights are out in the apartment and I have to figure out how to keep up with the rent and utilities so they dont suspect I’m there alone, or I’m going into the system.” Her head drops as she bites into her cheeks. “And my girl..I don’t want her to be with a bum. She deserves the best and I want to be able to give it to her.” He leans forward his elbows settled on his knees, as he looks Shuri over.
“Ah..young love. It’s a beautiful thing.” He says pulling out a blunt placing it to his lips before sparking it up. “Sounds like you’re in a bad way….You thought about this? This is really what you want to do?” She nods and speaks.
“I have conditions.” He smirks.
“Ofcourse you do.” Shuri rolls her eyes in response.
“You gotta let me go after I graduate. I want out of all this the day of graduation. I just need this to stay on my feet for a couple of years. And I need whatever you have me do to be low profile.”
N’jadaka nods understandingly. He stands and walks over to a safe entering the code. Once it’s opened he pulls out a stack of money, walking over to Shuri placing the money in her hand.
“That’s twenty thousand. Take that as a welcome to the family business gift.” He says with a smirk. Shuri stared at the money in her hands. She hadn’t seen this much money at once in years. “What do I have to do for this?” N’Jadaka shakes his head aware of Shuri’s distrust.
“I was serious about what I said yesterday. I don’t want you out on the corners. I would prefer that we were partners. That big brain of yours could make us some real money. So for the next two years I’d like for you to be here with me. Help me revamp my operation and graduation day you’re free to live your life.”
“So you want me to be your right hand?”
“Exactly.”
“I get 50/50.”
“Done”
“Minimum visibility.”
“Almost none exisistence.”
Shuri’s jaw clenches in thought as she took in her surroundings. “I’m not getting my hands dirty N’Jadaka. Business operations is my job. I tell you what to do, you pass it along. I come in weekdays when the sun sets and for emergency’s only. Deal?” Killmonger places out a hand to shake, and Shuri takes it.
“Deal lil Udaku. You’re quite the bargainer. I look forward to doing business with you. See you Monday.” Shuri nods. Placing the money into her jacket pockets.
“See you Monday.”
I think back on that day often. Wondering just where would I be if I’d just toughed out the struggle for awhile. But, I didn’t. And that decision haunts me to this day.
That’s where it all began. The day I fell in love and simultaneously ruined my life.
#Spotify#shuri fanfiction#shuri angst#shuri black panther#shuri imagine#shuri fic#shuri udaku#shuri x reader#shuriri#shuri x you#Letitia Wright
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idk why everyone acts like lifeweaver is such a bad team pick like idk maybe you’re just bad at supporting DJSJSJ
#listen i’m no overwatch god or anything#i’m roughing it out in silver bronze lmaooo#bUT lifeweaver does insane healing?? and decent damage esp from a distance??#but if your dps doesng dps you gotta switch obvs to fill that void#with zen or moira#but you could say the same of like mercy#i think he would be better if his ult was more useful bc that burst healing is for shit#it’s should be continuous as long as you’re standing it in and#tbh i think his healing distance should be increased#and i think the petal should be infinite in the sky tbh#bc i mean you’re already forced to move often no one is just gonna let you#hover in the sky and damage the team you have to be mobile no matter what#but if people DO overlook you then that’s their issue that’s the punishment side of the petal#just like how yeah you can sit up there but you’re also easy pickings for any decent sniper#lyriumsings txt#overwatch#don’t look at me i’m watching world cup#and they won’t stop shitting on lifeweaver lmaoooo#that’s my boi leave him alone
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happy wife, happy life — gojo satoru
synopsis. not fawning over his wife may prove to be harder than gojo thought.
contents. fluff, gojo is so whipped for his wife and everyone is tired (whats new), ooc gojo?
notes. this was pure self indulgence. i wanted to slander and coddle gojo all at once and this was it teehee :3
the first thing you hear when you stand up to leave the staff meeting is a wolf whistle.
“looking good,” satoru looks you up and down. you roll your eyes playfully, your husband’s behavior is not foreign to you. he taps your upper thigh, dangerously close to your butt as you take your leave. however, the others in the room don't take kindly to the action.
“highly inappropriate behavior gojo,” utahime mutters under her breath from across the table. beside her, nanami is giving your husband a hard stare.
satoru pays no mind to them though, smiling up at you as you walk out of the room. you shake your head when he continuously blows a series of kisses. he ignores your rejection, opting to mouth crude comments instead.
the moment the door shuts, the strongest sorcerer immediately deflates, disinterested in whatever matters the rest had to discuss about.
“i don’t know how she puts up with you,” utahime takes a long sip out of her cup of tea. beside her, shoko snorts.
“probably for his body.” shoko is not unfamiliar with satoru’s antics, having witnessed it since his rowdy school days. she applauds him for coming far with you, but it was still fun to tease him.
gojo crosses his arms, emitting a disgruntled sound. “and my golden personality?”
nanami sighs, “ieiri’s conclusion is most likely right.”
the limitless user wiggles his finger playfully. “nanamin, how scandalous of you to fantasize about my body! i’m a married man y’know~”
nanami looks like he has eaten something sour. unlike you, nanami’s attitude towards gojo has not softened as the years passed.
“i’m surprised she’s still with you.” utahime snickers. “she’s a sensible woman and you’re–”
satoru frowns at her statement. he’d never thought about how you felt about his behavior. perhaps that was his fatal flaw. gojo satoru had a nasty streak of negligence. and the last time he failed to notice someone dear to him —
“well i’m glad she ended up choosing me, yeah?” his frown is quickly covered up by the wide smirk on his face. he leans back on his chair that’s starting to feel less comfortable by the second. the chair creaks under the weight of his body. honestly, how old are these old wooden things? “as much as i’d like to keep chatting about my lovely wife, i’d like to get this meeting over with so i can see her again.”
the rest of the meeting ensues as usual.
“sensei has been weird… right?” itadori offers his hand after knocking megumi down during a sparring match. the black haired boy grunts as he is pulled up.
“if by weird, you mean normal.” megumi glances back at you and gojo who are watching intently at the first and second years practicing close combat on the training field. it was a bit peculiar to see satoru not throw himself all over you. gojo without pda is like a jigsaw puzzle missing its most essential piece, leaving the overall picture incomplete and lacking the electrifying energy that defines his existence.
“i feel like i should be happy, but it’s unsettling to see him not initiating some misconduct. do you think they’re fighting?” nobara is panting on the grassy floor. she raises her hand in surrender when maki leaps in to take her head off with a spear.
maki retracts her blade, turning back to observe you and gojo, “nah, gojo would fold at her command.”
“salmon.”
from across the training field, you turn to your husband nervously, “why are they staring at us?”
satoru hums, his blindfolded gaze focuses on the field in front of you, “hm, maybe they’re admiring their very beautiful [name] sensei.” the blindfolded man pauses. compliments should still be okay– right? satoru can’t imagine a life without lavishing you with love, yet he will content himself with gently sprinkling you with affection.
you smack his shoulder playfully. to your surprise, your husband doesn’t reciprocate with some form of physical affection. you tilt your head, perplexed.
quickly dismissing it, you yell at your students to continue their training.
you don’t notice the way satoru clenches his fists, keeping his eyes trained anywhere but you.
the next time satoru is tempted by your presence is when he comes back home after a mission. it was a walk in the park, but the heavy stack of paperwork that followed it had depleted his energy. all he wanted was to snuggle in bed with his wife, selfishly keeping you all to himself.
and you’re not making it easier to resist with the way you warmly greet him with a smile in nothing but a small cotton tee and those tiny pajama shorts. eyes up, eyes up, eyes up, satoru mentally chants.
he thinks he might actually die.
“toru!” you abandon the book you had been reading to pay your husband taxes (kisses that satoru demands he must have). “you’re home awfully late.”
“mission… paperwork,” his clipped response is mumbled as he hurries past you and to your shared bathroom, avoiding your touch. satoru silently prays to the heavens that you don’t notice his suspicious efforts as he makes his way to take a much needed ice cold shower.
you stand in your spot in confusion, letting your husband go. slowly, you start to connect the pieces of satoru’s strange behavior from his refusal to touch you to his sudden responsible disposition. gojo satoru never does paperwork– not unless you bribe him with a dozen kisses. speaking of kisses, you don’t even remember the last time he had demanded one. something was definitely wrong.
without missing a beat, you quickly follow your lover’s trail into the bathroom.
to your delight, your husband had failed to lock the door. in the hush of your silence, you can hear the subtle rustle of satoru's garments.
his sky blue eyes go wide when he sees you walk through the door.
“toru… is there something wrong?” your voice is careful.
the white haired man in front of you nervously laughs as he covers his bare chest, “geez, ask me out to dinner first.”
“gojo satoru.”
your husband winces at his full name being used, but he puts on another mask. a faux smile plays on his lips as he shrugs. “i don’t know what you mean, gojo.”
your heart drops at his insistence to shut you out, but you stand your ground. with sheer determination, you walk up to your husband, closing the gap between the two of you. you cup his cheek with a hand while you start to lean closer, your lips nearly brushing.
satoru shuts his eyes, inhaling a deep breath to regain composure. he even sucks in his lips, making him look utterly ridiculous. despite the dangerous allure of your proximity, he resolves to stand firm.
"you won’t even kiss me anymore! satoru, this is absurd. what's happening?" you distance yourself, seeking answers.
despite his towering stature, a snort escapes you as satoru resembles a mere child when mumbling something under his breath.
"come on, use your big boy words."
"i don't want to drive you away," he avoids making eye contact now that his blindfold is off. "i know i can be a bit overwhelming at times."
upon hearing his excuse, you snort loudly, “seriously?”
“seriously.”
“i can’t believe i married such an idiot.” you huff, wrapping your arms around his neck.
satoru pouts, “you’re breaking my heart wifey.”
your lips softly kiss the corner of his mouth. like it was muscle memory, satoru’s lips chase yours even after you pull away. you smile.
“for such a genius, you really are stupid ‘toru.” you flick his forehead. he whines and you know it didn’t hurt, yet you entertain him by leaning up to kiss his injury. “believe it or not, i married you for reasons beyond your pretty face and body.”
“you think i’m pretty?” his eyes shine bright as they lovingly gaze into yours. you take one hand to cup his cheek. he nuzzles his face into it.
“of course you’d say that.” you laugh softly. “but honestly, i’m offended that you thought i would ever be annoyed by your affections. might i remind you that we have been madly in love since our youth? i found myself captivated by your ability to love effortlessly, and the way you hopelessly pined for me for years? i knew i was a goner. that… and your bank accoun–”
satoru kisses you with an intensity that leaves you feeling blissfully lightheaded. lost in the haze of the moment, he showers the rest of your face with tender, wet kisses, and you stand there, surrendering to the sweet assault.
upon withdrawing, satoru wears a broad grin. "i was an idiot today, wasn't i?" you nod, breathless. "how about i make it up to you tonight?" he proposes, drawing you close. you are all too familiar with that feral grin adorning his face.
#kt.writes.·:*¨༺#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo fluff#gojou x reader#gojou satoru x reader#gojou satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#gojou satoru x y/n#jjk fluff#jjk x reader
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𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮, 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮/ 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: somonphilia, oral, fingering, nipple play, sleepy!reader, praise & degradation, panty sniffing and stealing, pervert!toji, pervert!satoru, pervert!Suguru, vibrator
"I'm bored n' horny." Toji abruptly stands up and pulls his shirt off. Tossing it onto the living room floor.
Satoru glances up from his switch. "Why jerk off when she's gonna be awake in a couple hours? She's just tired from work, and complained it was kicking her ass earlier." Satoru's cock aches at the thought of being between your legs. Imagines your plush soaking wet cunt dripping his cum clouding his mind.
Toji snorts, "Why wait when I can stick my dick in our princess's mouth right now? Then I'll fuck her back to sleep." Toji's cock had been persistently hard, his large balls aching.
Pre-cum smearing inside his sweatpants. Adding to the how uncomfortable they are. Pushing his sweatpants down kicking them next to his shirt.
Suguru pauses his game, standing up. "I'm eating her pussy out, once she cums then I'll let one of you have a turn." He sets his controller down. Pulling his hair back into a ponytail, his cock straining against his gym shorts. Which were comfortable moments ago.
Satoru states, "I'm next. Dying for another taste sweetheart tastes so goood." Drawing out the last word with a groan. Lost in the thought of your sleepy moans and gorgeous body trembling.
Suguru follows Toji towards your bedroom with Satoru in tow. Satoru fantasizes. "Hope she's just as reactive asleep as she is awake." He fondles his cock through his sweatpants. "Love it when she's loud and her pussy is messy."
Toji informs Suguru and Satoru, "She is, fuck she's whinier when she's sleepy. Gonna wake up fast n' be a demanding beautiful brat." Easing your door open. Your dimly lit wax warmer casts a golden glow onto the bed and around your room.
Toji continues "We can hold her down fuck her and stuff her mouth if she gets mouthy." They could make out you're on your back, sprawled out. The perfect position for them to use your sleeping body to get off.
Suguru adds, "Afterwards we can stuff her belly with some food, and tuck her back into bed." He eases the blanket off your naked body. Dropping it onto the floor.
Satoru chimes in, "I'll cuddle her while I'm playing Stardew valley." Satoru picks up the vibrator you left out. Turning it on, climbing onto your bed. "Sweetheart busted a nut and fell asleep." Satoru swirls the toy on your clit. You moan, parting your lips enough for Toji to slip his thumb past.
Toji suggests, "Maybe we aren't enough for her, we should step it up n' break her beautiful cunt." He kneels on the bed, guiding his cock to your warm mouth. Groaning when he glides his cock past your lips.
Suguru snags the underwear crumbled up by your body. "Her panties are so messy." He smells them groaning, "Smells so fucking good." Toji grabs your jaw, holding your head still, spit smearing from his fingers onto you.
"Even in her sleep, she's a good fuckin' slut." Satoru dips his head, sucking on your nipple. Flicking it with his tongue. Adding more pressure to your clit, swirling it faster. You tremble, moaning around Toji's cock as he fucks part of his cock into your mouth.
Toji holds out his hand. "Don't hog her panties, you've stolen ten of them. Let me get that one." Suguru passes them.
“You’re both perverted thieves.”
“You won't stop buying them for her, she too many. And Sug n I will give them back clean when we get bored of them." Toji holds it up to his nose takingna long deep breaths, then licking it. Sticking part of your panties into his mouth and sucking on it.
You open your eyes, relaxing your mouth more. Cupping Toji's balls, massaging them. Spreading your legs for Suguru, grabbing his bun, knocking it loose. He nudges his tongue past your lips, groaning. Your soaking wet cunt clenching from the vibrations.
Satoru pulls away from your sensitive nipple with a soft pop. Grinning at Toji, "Nasty fucker sucking her dirty panties like its candy." Toji loudly groans, then pulls them out to respond.
"Our Mama’s soaking wet cunt is candy. She has been givin' me a sweet tooth. Can’t help myself." Suguru kisses your lips, moaning, gliding his tongue past, making out, and tongue fucking your tight cunt.
Oreo cream-pie m.list
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk scenarios#geto scenarios#toji scenarios#gojo scenarios#toji x reader#toji smut#geto x reader#geto smut#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo x you#toji x you#geto x you#geto x y/n#toji x y/n#gojo x y/n#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#toji fushiguro
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AFTERGLOW. — JJK BOYS + JEALOUSY
❝tell me that you’re still mine, tell me that we’ll be just fine, even when i've lost my mind
featuring. gojo, inumaki, nanami, okkotsu
content. a character study in jealousy, no content warnings, no smut in this version, fem reader
word count. 2.8k
SATORU GOJO
You’re attempting to finish getting ready for the evening and Satoru has taken his favorite activity: filing through every crevice of your room like he’d been hired as a private investigator. Even though he knows that you know that he’s nothing more than a nosy idiot, Satoru claims that it’s an important and intimate routine that he should know the ins and outs of your living space just as well as you know his—“You know exactly where I keep my boxers, and I don’t even think I’ve seen the inside of your closet—oh, hey, this is cute,” he grins, sticking out his impossibly long arm to shake a thin, lacy bodysuit on a hanger, “How come you’ve never shown me this, huh? Maybe you should wear this instead, it seems easier to take—ouch.”
He groans at the impact of your hairbrush against his shoulder, then swiftly proceeds to pout and whine about how mean you are to him when you return to ignoring him in favor of applying the final touches to your makeup. Your closet seems to be of little interest to him after that, as Satoru crosses the room to hover around you at your vanity instead. He leans in too closely, as if watching you apply bronzer was a novel sight to him. You flip your brush quickly, barely tapping at his nose and laughing at his scrunched reaction.
“Your reflexes aren’t so sharp today,” you tease. You’re prepared for a witty response, and when you glance, there’s a familiar mischief shimmering in your boyfriend’s eyes; but, then his gaze ventures slightly past you, and all signs of playfulness drain from his face. Instead of getting revenge, or annoying you further, Satoru reaches over your body and into a shallow jewelry dish to pick up the bracelet he’d spotted. It’s a dainty little thing, thin gold with a small heart in the middle glittering with shiny stones, that he threads along his fingers with scrutiny before standing up straight to dangle it in front his face for further inspection, “This is new to me.”
Perhaps you’d spoken too soon, because only Satoru would spot that one piece of jewelry amongst the others swimming the tray. His eyes flutter between the bracelet and you, and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head, and the accusation he won’t say outloud—did you buy yourself heart-shaped jewelry, or is there something else going on here?
You sigh and keep your expression and voice neutral, your attention seemingly still focused on the finishing touches of your makeup, “It’s new to you because I haven’t worn it in years,” you tell him, “My ex gave it to me.”
There’s a beat of silence, and you occupy yourself with your mascara, before Satoru speaks, “That makes sense, it doesn’t look all that promising. What is it—barely gold plated?” he taunts, sweeping away his air of concern with one of mockery, standing up straight to twirl the bracelet around his index finger, “Figures your ex boy toy had no taste for the finer things in life. You’re worth more than this, my darling.”
You shake your head with light laughter, patting in the remnants of your setting spray before standing. Satoru continues on, rambling about the poor construction of your commercially produced bracelet—holds it between his index finger and thumb like it’ll poison him if he exposes it to too much of his skin, and you can’t help but smile as you reach for the lapel of his blazer to pull him down for a kiss. He has no words of objection to this, pulling you in by the waist for another and another and another, before you finally pull away, “Come, let’s go. I don’t feel like getting lectured by Utahime for your tardiness again.”
You’re too preoccupied for the rest of the evening to notice the item missing from your jewelry dish. What you do notice, two afternoons later, shortly after Satoru has left to pick up Nanami from the airport, is a blue velvet box with your name written in pretty, gold cursive along the top—and inside, a gold tennis bracelet, glittering with diamonds, with a necklace to match. You have no doubt they’re legitimate, if not for the way the sparkle, then by the text that rings through on your phone after you question Satoru:
from: satoruwu 🫧🩵
— only the best for my baby <33
TOGE INUMAKI
Toge knows that the price of coffee has gotten way out of hand, but what bothers him more is the decreasing pace of said coffee getting made and the increase of crazy, caffeine addicted people who feel the need to be loud around him while he’s waiting for his drinks. You, however, seem to take pleasure in his suffering, as you always thank him and coo, saying he looks cute despite his grumbly demeanor, “You always look like you fought a war for two cups of coffee, Toge.”
He rolls his eyes as he steps into your apartment, not minding the sound of your giggling behind him. He sets the drinks on your island, and pulls out a stool to sit on. You round the marble, reaching him just as he’s pulled down his mask for a thank you kiss to his cheek. He wants to make you suffer for longer, but when you lean against him, he can’t help but to return the hug and kiss your forehead—you’re welcome, always.
Still, he pokes at your head, waits until you dig your head out of his shoulder with curious eyes, before he points to the Keurig sitting in the corner of one the wall-mounted counters, and moves his hands to sign, “Why keep that if you spend all my money on coffee?”
“Rude. I offer to pay all the time,” you chide, poking at his collar bone and standing straight. You make your way back to the opposite side of the counter, and reach to a drawer to fetch a straw, before shrugging, “My ex left it here when we broke up. I keep it for the aesthetic—I’m not even sure if it works.”
A myriad of thoughts runs through Toge’s mind—most importantly: had your ex left other things here, and how quickly could he get rid of them?
“Besides,” you break his murderous train of thought, “None of the pods make good espresso. Couldn’t even make my hot girl latte if it worked.”
“Your ‘hot girl latte’ is iced,” Toge signs.
Under normal circumstances, a comment like that would earn him a flick to the forehead, but you can tell that behind the sarcasm, Toge is actually upset. So, in lieu of teasing him, you walk back over to him; settling yourself behind his stool to give him a back hug. You lean your cheek against his shoulder and press a small kiss there, “You’re cute.”
Toge huffs, shaking his shoulders for dramatic effect. You laugh, leaning up to give him another kiss on the cheek. “You’re cute and you have nothing to worry about. It’s an old coffee machine.”
He hums, taking another sip of his coffee before turning, barely bumping the top of your forehead, so you can see his raised eyebrow. You lean up to press a kiss to his lips, “You’re cute, and you have nothing to worry about, and I love you.”
He finally smiles again, content, and grants you another kiss to your forehead. With his mood back to normal, the two of you finish your coffee and carry on with your scheduled study session as normal (normal being Toge leaving you alone for all of twenty-seven minutes, before he starts taking videos of you with various outrages Snapchat filters on).
However, the following day when you return from your classes, there’s four new items on your kitchen counter: a silver espresso machine, a reusable Starbucks cup (already filled with your usual drink), a neatly folded apron decorated with cartoon Shiba Inus, and a small card with Toge’s bubbly handwriting on it: “Don’t worry, I’ll still pay for you $6 pink drinks, but if you wanted to thank me by making coffee in just the apron, then I wouldn’t complain ;)”
KENTO NANAMI
Kento is a rational man; he favors using logic to carry out decisive actions, rather than letting his emotions get the best of him. So, the rational part of him knows that it’s not a big deal that the lunch bag and bento-style tupperware you bring to work was a gift from your ex-girlfriend; but there’s a small, ugly, green part of him overrun with jealousy and another bitter-tasting feeling he can’t quite name.
Because it’s not that important. It makes sense that you keep using them—the lunch bag is nice, leather, sleek, and insulated, and the tupperware is sturdy and functional. The whole system is sustainable, practical. It was a good present, one that objectively serves a good purpose whether or not it was given by an ex or not.
Maybe that’s what he hates so much. That this person still has room in your life, even though you haven’t spoken to them since you’ve met him. Kento doesn’t like that reminder—that there are people out there who might be a good fit for you, a better one than him. Those ugly feelings aside, there’s a sour taste in his mouth when he packs your lunch now; knowing that the food he cooked for the two of you—the meal you’re both going to indulge in—sits in a container gifted to you by an ex-lover.
Irrational to the point of being unfocused, he doesn’t realize how close the glass is to the edge of the counter, and when he turns to scoop more rice, he accidentally knocks it over with his elbow. It breaks into tiny pieces on the ground, the small portion of rice and chicken spilling onto the ground. The sound draws you out of your bedroom, mascara wand in hand and robe still on to call for him, “Kento? Everything okay?”
“I… it was an accident,” he explains, setting the spoon down in favor of reaching for a napkin, dropping to his knee with a light sigh, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to break it.”
Your laughter surprises him, prompts him to look up at you with broken glass shards pooled in his palm, “You don’t have to worry so much! It happens, we have a million more.”
There’s something about the way you don’t seem to acknowledge it being special to you in any way—Kento’s not even sure if you recognize what broke—that reassures him. Because it really was an accident, but Kento doesn’t mind that he managed to break this particular plate.
When he shoos you back to getting dressed, he finishes picking up the broken glass shards. There’s a certain lightness to his actions now, petty as it may be, he’s happy. Spends extra time writing a note for you to see when you unpack your food before he retires to the bathroom to start getting ready himself.
Maybe he could do something about that lunchbox next. You don’t seem to mind.
YUUTA OKKOTSU
Thursdays are Yuuta’s favorite day of the week because on Thursdays, you two meet up at your spot, which is really just a set of twin benches in the west quad, but it’s your place and Yuuta loves it. You will have reserved a study room in your favorite library, and Yuuta will buy snacks for your study session before you both head to the library in an attempt to finish up your work for the week in order to keep your Friday evenings free.
Yuuta usually gets to the bench before you, a combination of the engineering building being a little bit closer, and his legs being a lot longer. He doesn’t mind waiting for you, as it’s usually his first time seeing you in two days (your Tuesdays are too packed for anything other than a shared coffee break between lectures, and Wednesdays are his hell days), and spotting you through the crowd of dissipating students always brings a smile to his face.
You look cute today, an oversized sweater enveloping your frame that Yuuta can imagine you cozying into and nearly dozing off in your dreaded microbiology lecture. He laughs to himself at the mental image, just as you stop in front of him to ponder, “Something funny?”
Yuuta shakes his head, leaning down to kiss your forehead with a proper greeting. “Nothing,” he reassures you, reaching around to pull your backpack off of your shoulders, and slings it over one of his, “You look cute. Did you mean to buy a sweater big enough to double as a blanket?”
“The oversized look is in,” you scrunch your nose and roll your eyes, letting Yuuta take your hand in his despite his teasing, “I don’t even think I bought this, honestly. It might be Todo’s? Or Toge’s—it might even be Maki’s at this point.”
Yuuta freezes. He feels the world stop and a million different emotions surge through him at once, but the most prevalent of them all is something ugly and green. He could deal with Toge, though he doubts he’s the culprit. While you two shared a penchant for oversized clothing, Toge was more often than not the thief, rather than the lender, and he’s pretty good at keeping his collection of stolen goods under lock and key. Maki was out of the question, too, because you shared a class with Nobara earlier today, and there’s no way you’d have made it out of there wearing her girlfriend’s sweater.
So it probably was Todo’s. And Yuuta had said you looked cute. Though he wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole, his moment of self-pity is waning, and overcast by something steely, something too-hot bubbling in his chest. The question of why you have it goes over his head—he’s not concerned with that, nor will he fault you for it—the matter at hand is that you’re wearing it. And, sure, Yuuta thought you looked good in it before, but he could name sixteen other things you’d look better in at this very moment.
You’ve gone on to ramble about something that happened earlier, but Yuuta’s not listening. He drops your hand first, then both of your backpacks on the bench behind him, before tapping at your wrists. You don’t seem to understand him, cocking your head to the side with a pensive expression, but Yuuta only taps at your wrists again with a simple command, “Up.”
It doesn’t seem like you understand, but you follow anyway, and Yuuta is pulling the sweater up and off of your body before you can question him. He tosses it onto the bench with little care, then removes his white jacket and places it atop your backpacks. “What are—” you don’t have time to finish before he’s pulled his own hoodie off his body, and slid it over your head.
Yuuta smooths out the fabric under his palms with a satisfied grin on his face. Much better.
“Aw, Yuuta!” you bring a hand to tug at the strings of the hood, a wicked smile replacing your dazed blinking, “I didn’t know you were so possessive.”
You tease him until he’s red up to his ears, embarrassed and borderline bashful, a complete 180 from the looming jealousy that took over him moments before as he shimmies on his jacket again and picks up your back backs. He huffs, as you tease him, circling an arm around his as you begin to walk to the student center. He doesn’t know if he agrees with your declarations of him being a possessive boyfriend, but he does know that he’s your boyfriend, and your boyfriend only.
“So, you think I look cute, still?” you question, picking up a pack of gummy worms. Yuuta lets out a breath of laughter, pressing another kiss to your forehead, “Even cuter than before.”
(Two days later, Todo can be found screaming wildly to Itadori when he comes across a familiar hoodie strewn across a random bench on campus—who considers visiting the Student Health Clinic to make sure an eardrum wasn’t ruptured—because, “Bro, what the hell? I swear I fucking lost this thing!”)
#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk fluff#jjk smut#gojo x reader#satoru x reader#nanami x reader#inumaki x reader#yuuta x reader#yuta x reader#jjk drabbles#jjk imagines#jjk scenarios#jujutsu kaisen fluff#gojo fluff#gojo smut#gojo satoru x reader#satoru gojo x reader#nanami kento x reader#kento x reader
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Picking You Up From Work
Sukuna leans on the bumper of his Camaro, hoping a drop of rain doesn’t land perfectly on the tip of his cigarette and snuff it out. He’s pretending not to watch the front door of your workplace, like an anxious dog waiting for his owner to come home, but it’s ten minutes past the time you said you’d be out, and he was ready to take you to his apartment and settle down for the night. It had been a long day- he wanted to forget it in the taste of your whimpering on his tongue.
Customers pass him on their way into your workplace. Sukuna wonders briefly what has them whispering to each other and sneaking glances over at him: the nearly sixty year old car or the man covered in tattoos leaning against it?
Fifteen minutes pass before he checks his phone again. It was unlike you to be late, you knew Sukuna had a pet peeve of not being on time and, despite how hairbrained you were, he knew you tried to meet him halfway. Looking over his shoulder, he peeks at the flowers sitting on the passenger seat waiting for you. If he had known you'd be a minute, he would have put a splash of water in the bottom of the flower wrap holding the bouquet together. He clicks his tongue in disappointment, hoping they don’t wilt by the time you get to them.
“I’m sorry, I have to get going-” Your voice chimes through the sound of the rainfall like a cleansing bell, bringing Sukuna’s attention snapping back towards the exit of your work.
You're standing halfway between his car and the building, directly in the middle of the parking lot. A man dressed in a similar uniform to yours is standing a little too close to you for Sukuna’s comfort.
He flicks the ash off of the end of his cigarette and takes a drag.
~
“Are you sure?”
It’s been a long day.
“We could go get some coffee and just hangout for a bit-”
A really long day.
Granted: working customer service you expected long days. Grating days. Days in which you questioned your faith in humanity. But, that all usually ended when you clocked out for the night and headed home. You could easily forget all of it at the door. Tonight, however, the annoyance of having to save face continues.
You had been trying to give this guy a hint all day as he followed you around, desperate to catch your attention and doing anything to gain a brownie point. It was really starting to tick you off.
Not only that, you knew Sukuna was waiting for you somewhere in the parking lot and it was only a matter of time before this man was decapitated before your very eyes.
Dammit, you just wanted to go home.
“I’m sorry, Sam. I’ve got someone waiting for me. Have a good night!” You try to wave him off, offering a polite smile before you turn your back to him.
"Who's waiting for you?" Sam calls out, still not catching the hint.
Before you can reply, a hand reaches around your waist, securing you to a familiar side- but you've been on edge all day, just waiting for your coworker to make one bold wrong move. On instinct, you snatch the wrist at your hip with a deathgrip before realization is able to save you.
Your eyes whip up to meet Sukuna's smirking gaze, his smile flashing into that serpentine grin that makes your fight or flight mode go off.
"Ohoho-" He chuckles, and there’s a mischievous darkness lurking beneath it.
"'Kuna!" You ease your grip immediately, cradling his hand in sympathy. Part of you is instantly relieved he’s here to sweep you away, and the other part is sweating over how he’s going to handle this situation.
Sukuna could be a bit possessive.
"Good grip." He purrs, snatching up your own hand instead and continuing his original plan of tucking you securely into his side. "You turned your back to the scum bag, though." He tsks quietly. "My brat should know better."
Sukuna easily turns the both of you around, lifting you slightly to move without tripping you. You’re forced to face your coworker once again, although you notice that your unease has dissipated with Sukuna next to you now.
“Is this...? A-Are you guys…” Sam sneers at Sukuna's sudden appearance, his poorly shaven lip curling up in disgust.
Sukuna merely hums in response, “Every night while you’re wet dreamin’ about it.”
“S-Sukuna!” You interrupt, squeezing his fingers. Heat burns in your ears and you can feel them going pink under Sam’s now incredulous stare. “Is… my… yes.” You finish quietly, trying to avoid either one of the men watching you. Letting people into your personal life was not something you liked to do, even though you're sure your fiance would love it if you screamed it from the rooftops.
“Aw,” Sukuna makes a fond, sentimental noise and you press your elbow into his rib cage when you hear a mischievous lilt to his tone.
“You and this guy?” Sam gives Sukuna an obvious once over, crossing his gangly arms over his chest in disapproval. “He’s not even your type!”
Oh.
Maybe this guy deserved a good beating.
Even you were too afraid to look at your fiance at that moment, you could tell by the look on Sam’s face that Sukuna wasn’t happy.
The scariest part about Sukuna getting angry, was the lack of reaction. There was no glaring. No muscles going rigid. No shouting. There was only this overwhelming sense of danger, like a prey animal realizing it was about to meet its predator.
Sam tries to fix it, sensing the murderous intent hanging in the air, but his ego still tries to bite: “Look, dude, I don’t mean any harm. I just think she needs a gentleman.”
…
Now that piques your interest.
You need a gentleman?
You almost completely forget about Sukuna for a moment, your head snapping in your coworker's direction with breakneck speed.
“Gentleman?” You repeat, scoffing. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’ve been breathing down my neck like a fucking animal in heat all day. Practically begging for half a second of female attention in any form you can get it and you’re standing here-after trying to follow me to my car like some fucking pervert- and you’re trying to tell me you’re a gentleman?”
When you try to take a step forward, you're reminded of Sukuna's unrelenting grip on your hip bone, holding you in place.
“Calm down- all I wanted to do was walk you to your car.” Your ill-favored coworker rolls his eyes, although you can sense his discomfort in the way he takes a few steps away from you. His ego speaks again, and you see red. “You don’t have to be such a bitch about it.”
What.
“Alright, alright” Sukuna is shoving something cold and jagged into your hands, distracting the sudden confused rage that washes over you. Before you can expel it, he unfastens his hand from around your waist and nudges you in the direction behind him. “Go start the car.”
You blink up at him, taken back by the entire situation. His keys dangle in your frozen fingers, clinking together.
Sukuna knows you're mad. Knows the only thing on your mind is curb stomping the man in front of you. And you know he won't let you get anywhere near that.
“Come on, Duckie.” He purses his lower lip in a mock pout when you don't turn to leave immediately. There’s something dark glittering behind the faux playfulness in his eyes, reassuring you that nobody was going to get off easy, asking you politely to turn your gaze from what he was about to do.
His calloused thumb sweeps over your fingertips, gliding over the deep red nail polish there. The kiss he presses against your knuckles is one meant for royalty. Soft and sweet. And incredibly persuasive. “I just got these nails done. Lemme keep ‘em pretty for ya.”
~
When Sukuna opens the driver side door and slides in, fifteen minutes have passed. There’s a smear of blood on his cheek that matches the one on his knuckles, the red catches his eye in the review mirror. He licks his finger, using his spit to try and wipe it off before he turns to meet you, smiling sweetly.
“What should we get for dinner?"
#jjk#sukuna#ryomen sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#fluff#?#I think#I just had this scene in my head#modern au#I feel like sukuna would be a car head#grease monkey sukuna#my writing
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Sir, Please.
Pair: Wonwoo x f.reader
Genre: Fluff, Smut. 18+ only (MDNI).
Summary: Wonwoo doesn’t mind keeping you at the edge if it means watching you fall apart.
Warnings: Dom!Wonwoo, Sir! kink, edging, cockwarming, unprotected sex (stay safe, children), squirting, clitoral stimulation, lots of making out, creampie, pussy slapping (like once), overstimulation, dacryphilia, breast play, wrist pinning, dirty talk, use of pet names (Sir, good girl, darling, love, baby, sweetie), glorious aftercare (Wonu is the best), fluff. Please let me know if i missed something. Not proofread, might come back to fix up errors.
WC: 3k
Author’s note: First smut piece for Wonwoo my love. This was only supposed to be post-sex cuddles fluff but thought it was the right time to finally write smut for my favorite boy. As is the plot of this piece, good things come to those who wait 😏 Enjoy!
Tagging fellow Wonu lovers @multi-kpop-fanfics @playmetheclassics for the chaos.
“What’re you doing?” Your boyfriend quizzed, your bare body still on top of his, a cheek resting against his bare chest.
“Doodling,” you mumbled casually as your finger continued to draw lazy patterns on his side.
“Darling, it tickles.”
“I don’t see you flinching.”
“You’re on top of me. If I flinch, you might fall.” He stated matter-of-factly.
You craned your neck to look up at him, flashing a wide grin momentarily, “then suffer.”
You shook along with Wonwoo as he laughed at your reply, a strong arm secured tightly around your torso, while his free hand cradled the back of your head.
A large smile was permanently etched on Wonwoo’s face as you both laid in comfortable silence. When he had collapsed onto you just minutes ago after reaching his climax, he had asked so nicely if he could stay inside a little longer and who were you to complain? You’ve craved for this kind of intimacy with him for awhile now after being both so busy with work.
“You’re lucky i love you,” Wonwoo declared as he kissed the top of your head.
You hummed in response, trailing your fingers again on his side, nails lightly scratching on his skin, “did you just write ‘i love you too’ on my ribs?” He laughs, and you nod an affirmative.
You took a deep breath, closing your eyes and snuggling more into your boyfriend’s chest. Now would be a good time for time to stand still. The setting sun casted warm hues of light inside your bedroom and while the airconditioning was cold, Wonwoo was radiating just the right amount of heat to keep you from shivering.
“I’ve missed you,” you blurted out.
“I know, sweetheart. I’ve missed you too. I’ve missed this,” another kiss was placed on top of your head, “i’m sorry i’ve been so busy.”
“I’m sorry too,” you sighed, resting your chin on his pecs to face him. “I wish i had more time to visit you in practice, or even just see you for lunch.”
“That’s okay, darling. We’re both just in our busy season. It will be over soon, yeah?” This time, Wonwoo’s palm was rubbing circular motions on the small of your back. “I was thinking we should go on a vacation when this all boils over.”
Your eyes grew wide, excited at your boyfriend’s suggestion, “really?”
“Yeah, maybe the countryside? Or out of the country? Where do you want?”
A blush crept up your cheeks at Wonwoo’s gesture of letting you choose, but honestly, you could’ve just stayed at your home and it would be okay. The last time you had a vacation, he made you choose the place too but this time, you didn’t really have a shortlist of destinations. You craned your neck to kiss his lips shortly, “surprise me?” You smiled shyly, “maybe somewhere peaceful and with fresh air? Anywhere as long as it’s with you is all I want, darling.”
“Okay, i’ll plan it out.” He confirmed before rolling you both over so his body hovered above yours
“Where are you going?” You pouted when he made a move to slip out of you.
“I need to clean you up, sweetie.”
You hooked a leg around his waist in retaliation, not at all ready to feel empty just yet. You attempted the most doe eyes you could muster, looking up at your boyfriend through your lashes and clenching your pussy as you did so, “Don’t you wanna fuck me one more time?”
Wonwoo scoffed at your question, the corner of his lips pulling into a devious smile at your sweet tone, “can’t get enough, darling?” His voice was lower by a few octaves, enough to send a shiver through your spine and a gush of wetness in your cunt.
“N-no, sir.”
Wonwoo smirked at the nickname before doing an experimental thrust. When your eyes rolled to the back of your head, he simply chuckled before dragging his cock out slowly and then swiftly burying himself to the hilt, rendering you even more speechless than you were. He could feel the rhythmic spasming of your walls, causing him to grow harder and harder.
You cupped his face to bring it closer to yours, kissing him and sucking at his lower lip. Wonwoo smiles in the kiss, amused at your neediness especially when he feels you lift your hips and roll them on his.
“Eager are we?”
“Wonuuu,” you whined pathetically, clawing at his back.
“Wonu?” he questioned with a glare, pinning you to the mattress agressively, “that’s not what you called me minutes ago, darlin’”
“Well, I don’t know where he went. Maybe if you give me what I want then I’ll start calling you it again,” you smirked, dragging your nails a little more harshly on his skin making him hiss.
Wonwoo rolls his eyes, only to dive into your right breast and suck harshly at the bud, eliciting a loud moan from you. He snakes his hand in between you both, thumb finding your clit and rubbing it in circles, immediately feeling you clench around his dick again.He mutters something about you being responsive but it flies over your head as he picks up his pace. The slide is much easier given your mixed cum and your new arousal so it takes him record time to hit your sweet spot. Every ridge and vein on his cock drags against your walls in a way that’s more delicious than awhile ago.
“S-sir, pl-pleaasee,” you shake, the pit of your stomach tightening as you arch your back.
“Does my darling want to cum?” The nickname sounds sickly sweet as it rolls off his tongue and it only helps you get closer to the edge.
You nod your head repetitively, chants of ‘yes’s’ and ‘oh’s’ spilling from your lips, but then Wonwoo withdraws his hand from your sensitive bud and stills inside of you, a vice grip around your body as he licks the shell of your ear, “you don’t get to cum until I say so.” The words were loud, clear and firm, in a tone you knew all too well.
“But Won—“ you cry out loud, tears forming in your eyes as you feel your climax painfully float away.
“Nuh uh,” two harsh thrusts are delivered straight to your gspot as your boyfriend hooks one of your legs on his shoulder, “Call me wrong again and I will not let you cum at all.”
“Fuuuuck,” you mewl from the way his cock rams into you with the new angle, following it up with whines at the thought of getting no release, “S-sorry, sir! ‘M sorry!”
“There it is. Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Wonwoo mocks, “now be my good girl and hold it out for me, yeah?”
You’re a incoherent mess as you try to obey him, but it isn’t so easy when his large cock is abusing your sore, sloppy cunt. Words of filth pair each one of his powerful thrusts.
“My dirty little whore”
“So fuckin’ needy for my cock.”
“Can’t get enough of this pussy.”
“Your pussy is mine.”
“All made for me.”
You were letting out moans of pleasure as Wonwoo pounded into you mercilessly, the knot in your stomach making itself felt again.
“Fu– ah! Fuck, s-sir! Please!” You asked, but it only fell on deaf ears. Both your wrists were tightly pinned with just one of your boyfriend’s large hand above your head and his blown out pupils were looking right at you.
“Make me cum, make me cum, make me cum, please!!!” you begged shamelessly, voice shaking and legs closing in as you teetered on the edge of your orgasm.
“Not. Yet.” Wonwoo withdrew fully from your hole and you shrieked at the loss, your hips lifting to chase after his dick only to have it slammed down by his free hand.
“Sir!!!” You scowled, eyebrows scrunching and eyes wide, anger and pain washing away yet another failed orgasm.
A proud, lopsided smirk appeared on your boyfriend’s face. He licked his bottom lip, enjoying the torture he beset on you despite his painfully hard cock.
“What?”
It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t asking, you knew that much.
“Nothing,” you cowered and blinked back your tears, erasing the anger in your face much to your dismay.
“Good girl.”
You swallowed thickly, squirming once more when Wonwoo tapped his heavy length on your pussy, coating himself with your slippery wetness— not that he needed any more of it— before purposely slapping your swollen clit with his angry red tip. The stimulation from that alone already had your toes curling and it took every fibre of your being to not just unravel right there.
You should’ve known calling him ‘sir’ would lead to this, but behind the tearful denials, you knew immense pleasure awaits.
“Siirrr, p-please! I n-need it.”
“Shhh. Patience, darling. We’ve got lots of time.” The demonic chuckle Wonwoo let out had you whimpering pitifully, your hands fighting to break free from his hold.
It seemed your boyfriend was hell bent on prolonging your agony when he simply continues to endlessly tap his shaft on your clit as he pumps himself.
Wonwoo was not usually loud in bed, save for his occasional grunts and broken groans when he falls into bliss. However, he’s decided now would be the perfect time to make matters all the more worse for you. He was being loud about it all, no holds barred. The squelching noises of his dick against your wet lips is now easily drowned out by the guttural moans Wonwoo has let slip past his mouth. You thought his dirty talk is music? Well, this was a symphony.
You had thought you wouldn’t get close this time around since he wasn’t inside you but the relentless knocks on your clit and the obnoxiously loud moans of your boyfriend have proved you wrong. Your hands balled into fists and you squeezed your eyes shut, mentally fighting off the ball of pleasure in your lower abdomen.
“Look at you, fighting so hard,” Wonwoo snickers, pressing down the tip of his cock to your clit in slow circular motions, “show me how good you are yeah?”
“Yes yes yes! ‘M good! Your good girl, promise!” You were so far gone, pliant to each one of your boyfriend’s requests.
“So wet, you’re soiling the bed,” he points out the obvious, “what a fuckin’ mess.” Wonwoo saw another shiver run through you, indicating you were seconds away from release. So for the third time that day, he denies you of the very thing you crave for, letting go of your wrists and then landing a sharp smack to your pussy before completely backing away to watch you spasm and curl up into a ball of needy tears and pathetic whines.
Your head was spinning and your senses were more than heightened. The slippery feeling of your arousal between your thighs were making it harder for you to squeeze them shut and stay still. Wonwoo simply loomed over you, giving you enough time to stabilize your breathing and let your failed orgasm ebb away. He knew that if he’d put so much just as one finger on your skin, you’d cum right away. Contrary to his actions, he wanted you to cum, but that didn’t mean he wanted to see you cry for it first.
“S-sirr,” you sobbed.
A gentle touch carefully landed on your calf and when you didn’t flinch away, Wonwoo let out a sigh of relief, “Yes, baby?”
“Please,” your voice barely above a whisper, “n-need you…”
Whatever other words you had planned were swallowed by Wonwoo in a searing kiss. It was sloppy and messy, his skillful tongue darting to yours, teeth biting at your lips. You both moaned in unison when he impaled you on his cock once more.
“So big,” you groaned, initially amused at the delicious stretch until you realised, he’s had to hold off his own orgasm too.
Wonwoo gives it his all, jackhammering into you like it would be the last time. The sound of moans and skin slapping skin reverberate around the room. And then, there it is again, a coil so tight on your stomach, you fear you’re going delirious to the point of no return.
“Wo— Sir!” You quickly correct yourself, losing the least bit of dignity you had, tears drenching your cheeks, “i’m b-begging, p-please…”
The gentle kiss on your nose set a stark contrast from how his cock abused your sopping cunt, but relief finally took over you at the words whispered in your ear, “so good for me. Let go, baby. I got you.”
A strangled cry ripped out of your throat, your orgasm gloriously hitting you like a tidal wave. Wonwoo continued to talk you through it while holding down your convulsing body and slamming his hips into you, the sight of your pussy creaming his cock eventually producing broken moans from him.
“B-babe, too– ah! Too m-much!” More tears fell on your face as Wonwoo did deep snaps, his pelvic bone grinding on your clit.
“C’mon baby, m’ close. S-so close!”
Incomprehensible noises tumbled out of you when your boyfriend buried himself deep, pushing onto your sweetest spot and stilling there. Between his guttural groans, the perfect ‘O’ shape of his mouth and the thick loads of hot white cum that flooded your velvety walls, another coil snapped within you, a new round of arousal seeping out of your spent hole, except this time, much wetter and hitting you like a ton of bricks.
“Fuuuck, darling,” Wonwoo trembled as the last of his nectar oozed out, “did I just make you squirt?”
“Fuck off,” you scowled, wishing you had more energy to wipe the smug look plastered on your boyfriend’s face.
“So I did?” Wonwoo pursed his lips and scrunched his nose, a look you very much love but absolutely hate right now.
You let your bottom lip jut out in a pout, your brows drawing to the center of your face, “how could I not when you edged me like that!”
“You’re cute,” was his only response, very slowly slipping his softening cock out of you. Your sweet boyfriend peppered kisses all over your face, replacing your frown with a smile. “Did I make you feel good, darling?” He asked genuinely, not wanting to ever subject you to something which you didn’t enjoy doing.
You gave him a shy nod, pulling him closer by his neck to close the gap between your mouths and share a loving kiss, much like how it was way earlier. It didn’t take long for you to part, your lungs still recharging to full capacity after having all the air knocked out of you.
Wonwoo gave you more time to recover, resting his head on the crook of your neck to leave soft kisses on your skin, especially on the blooming bruises he left in his wake.
“Darling, you can’t sleep yet,” he shook you gently when he noticed your prolonged stillness.
A small whine escaped your lips, “but Woo… i’m tired.”
“I know, i know,” he hushed softly, “but we need to get you cleaned up and also, change the sheets. I’ll make it quick.”
You had no time nor energy to protest. You were simply being carried bridal style into the bathroom, your boyfriend making sure you peed before he went on to wash up yours and his sweaty body with warm water. He was so so tender with his touch, especially in all parts between your legs. He’d keep an observant eye to every reaction your face made, careful not to cause any pain.
“Can… can you be mine?” you squeaked, and Wonwoo giggled at the drunken look of love on your face. Every time you think nothing can top sex with your boyfriend in your own little list of World’s Most Wonderful Things, you’re reminded that aftercare by him exists.
“Darling, i’m already yours,” Wonwoo chuckles.
You noded with a grin, brain really starting to drift off into slumber, “I like that.”
He fixes his glasses by the bridge of his nose after giving you a once-over, now dressed in cotton panties and one of his large navy blue shirts which hung mid-thigh on you.
Wonwoo lifts you up to sit on the bathroom counter before cupping your cheeks to meet your eyes, “baby, can you sit here and wait for me for about 10 to 15 minutes, please? I need to change our sheets.”
He had expected you to whine and retaliate, knowing you were always extra clingy after sex, but you simply nodded and smiled. You think you felt his lips on your forehead but you aren’t too sure.
The moment Wonwoo slips out of the bathroom, you’re fighting not to fall asleep, but 15 minutes is long, and maybe you can just lean your head a bit on the cold marble tile—
“Let’s get you to bed, love,” the tall man chuckles as he lifts you in his arms. You swore it hadn’t been fifteen minutes, not even ten! But then he walks past your bed and out of your shared bedroom. The light of the hallway enough to stir your brain awake.
“Where are we going?” You ask, nuzzling your face on the crook of his neck as he cradles you into another room.
Wonwoo laughs at your question, “We have to take the guest bedroom for the night, darling. You’ve soaked through our mattress.”
#svt#seventeen#svthub#svt x reader#svt smut#seventeen smut#svt fic#seventeen fic#svt one shot#seventeen one shot#svt image#seventeen imagine#wonwoo smut#wonwoo fic#wonwoo imagine#wonwoo one shot#wonwoo x reader#paula writes ✨#paula writes smut
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Who? ˳༄꠶
jealous!Rafe Cameron x fem!Reader ༄꠶
summary: “No way am I sending my girl on a study date with another man."
warnings: very very mild sexual concepts, jealous Rafe
based on this request!
‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵
Rafe Cameron was looking right at you with a death glare, the kind of look you’d pin on horrible people who were only doing horrible things. You’d think your boyfriend would understand that being in college requires unavoidable group work, which leads to unavoidable conversations with people you would much rather not know at all. Naturally, you were wrong. Devastatingly wrong.
“I don’t get it.” He said plainly for the fifteenth time that night, “You don’t even need this class if I’m honest.”
You rolled your eyes, trying to focus more on packing your things rather than the hole he was staring into your back.
“Don’t do that shit.. c’mon baby..” Rafe said, getting up to stand closer to you, a persuading hand on your hip, “M’working so hard to give you a life where you don’t gotta work and-“
“Rafe, we’ve talked about this too many times.” You cut him off in hopes to finally shut him up.
“Well why don’t we talk about it again,” He said, a tiny smile on his face, “Like right now? Over dinner?”
“Baby you know that my group members will kill me if I don’t pull through.” You shrugged past him, walking to put your shoes on.
You weren’t wearing anything near special. Sweatpants and one of Rafe’s oversized hoodies were all that you were planning on showing off. But in Rafe’s eyes, HE would fuck you in that, so who’s to say that no one else would? Naturally, he carries a heavy bias considering that Rafe would fuck you in anything, but he says ‘that’s not the point.’
“So what, you’re gonna spend all night with people you don’t even like?” He asked with a scoff.
You gave him an annoyed nod, trying to prove your point.
“That’s gotta be like.. bad for your uh.. mental health. You should stay in.”
“Rafe stop-“ You started before getting a ping on your phone. You groaned to finish the sentence, storming off to get your shoes on.
“What?” Rafe called after you, quietly shuffling behind before picking your phone up and looking at the recent notifications.
Connor: When r u getting here?
“Who’s this?” Rafe asked, pointing to the phone with a look of pure hatred in his eyes.
“One of my group members, love.” You said, trying to stifle a giggle over how protective he was over you.
“Another man? Absolutely not,” He said, turning away from you to block the door out of your shared apartment before continuing his rant, “No way am I sending my girl on a study date with another man. Who do you think-“
You pushed past him, backpack already slung over your shoulders as you made your escape to the front door.
“Nope.” He said plainly, grabbing the back of your bag and making you look at him, his fingers tracing your jaw and holding your eyes to his.
“Rafe..” You whined, but his touch was strict.
“You’re mine, baby. Not Connor’s, a’ight?” He said, brushing hair from your face.
“I’m yours.” You repeated, standing on your tip-toes to give him a kiss on the cheek.
His eyes softened and he thought he got you wrapped around his finger, pulling away to look at your flushed face. Instead, you darted to the door when his touch weakened, hand on the knob before Rafe could get another word in.
“Love you!” You said, closing it before everything caught up to him.
The group work went fine and almost exactly like you thought. A long session and a gut wrenching feeling of exhaustion afterwards. It’s never your favorite event but there were worse things that could happen. Things like walking back into your apartment after narrowly escaping your boyfriend’s possessive hand.
You opened the door quietly, which was already unnecessary. Of course he was still wide awake, waiting for you like a father punishing his daughter for sneaking out. He was sitting on the couch, arms crossed and scowling at you.
“What the fuck?” He asked, getting up to meet you at the front door.
You shoved your shoes off, setting down your backpack and walking closer to Rafe.
“M’tired baby..” You said, making every attempt to walk past the intimidating block he made in the hallway.
“No, no no.. this isn’t how it’s gonna work,” Rafe said, using both of his hands to hold your shoulders and forcing you to stand right in front of him as he lowered his voice, “Can’t just do that baby.. a’ight?”
“Sorry..” You whispered, breaking free of his hold on your shoulders and instead pulling yourself into him, wrapping your arms around him in a hug.
You could feel the slightly annoyed laugh that bubbled from him, but you could also feel the chaste kiss that he left on the top of your head. Rafe’s soft spot for you would always shine through his anger. You let yourself melt into his arms while you contemplated falling asleep standing.
“C’mon..” He whispered into you, equally as tired from staying up and waiting for you to come back to him.
You felt him pick you up cautiously, kissing your cheek as you let your eyes start to close.
——————————————————————
The next morning was a beautiful Saturday, which of course was the day you woke up to about 15 messages from your project’s group chat. Somehow you managed to squirm away from Rafe’s death grip over your body to check your phone. Casual conversations relating to different parts of the project and other things that you wanted nothing to do with flashed across the screen.
Over your shoulder you heard Rafe groan and felt him reach for where you weren’t. He looked around for you, watching groggily as you typed out a response on your phone.
“Baby..” He trailed off, rubbing his eyes.
“Sorry.. group project.” You whispered, giving in and letting yourself melt back into his arms.
“At 9 in the morning?” Rafe mumbled into you, an annoyed sigh died in his throat when you ran your fingers through his hair.
Sleep clouded your mind as the two of you held each other close again. He wasn’t trying to show it, but his possessiveness and jealousy were leaking out of him like a faucet.
“G’morning princess..” You heard Rafe whisper from above you, brushing the lazy hair from your cheeks.
You groaned and shifted, trying to find the warmth in the bed now that Rafe had gotten up.
“Let’s get lunch, hm?” He asked, gently moving you to face him again.
You nodded, trying to nod away the urge to dive back under the blankets.
Getting ready wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be, just because Rafe had already bought you the perfect outfit and you didn’t have to fight off your hair as much as you normally did. Whenever you got ready, Rafe would always finish before you and sit on the edge of the bed, admiring your reflection in the bathroom mirror. Your cheeks would flush up and you could never get your blush right anymore because he somehow always had your face a pink shade of red.
Rafe grabbed your bag for you, a small purse that fit your pretty dress. He also went to get your phone from its shameful place at the bedside table because of course you had forgotten to charge it last night.
One text had lit up your screen and his eyes narrowed the moment he saw it was from Connor.
“Baby, why is Connor texting you?” He asked, walking to your spot in the bathroom and shoving the phone in your face to quickly get your attention.
You took the phone, opening the notification while Rafe watched from over your shoulder.
Connor: Hey, I have some ideas for the paper. You want to meet up to talk? I was thinking a Cafe or something.
You could feel the angry red heat of jealousy seeping out of Rafe’s body.
“I told you.” He said, taking the phone from you and staring at the message again, almost dumbfounded at Connor’s audacity.
“M’not going.” You said plainly, looking at him with a lightly apologetic look.
“Damn right you’re not.” He replied, throwing your phone onto the bed and looking at you with an angry glare staring down at your face.
You watched an idea form in his head. It was easily not anything good considering the way his lips turned up in a thin smile and his gaze moved between you and the phone in a heartbeat.
“Y’know.. I really don’t want my girl missn’ anything..” He trailed off, walking to where he threw your phone originally.
“Rafe..” You tried to protest, not fully understanding where his head was at.
“No.. I think I gotta be a good boyfriend here.” He nodded to himself before looking at you with an unforgettable smirk.
“Baby I don’t want to go.” You said, walking up to him and trying to read his cocky expression.
“You, go?” He asked with faux confusion, cocking his head to the side, “No no, you’ve got it all wrong.”
Rafe stood up, taking your hands in his and kissing your knuckles before looking back down at you. Now it was your turn to be confused, furrowing your eyebrows.
“You think I’m stupid, baby?” He mocks, kissing your up jaw and stopping by your ear, “M’gonna go in for you.”
Whatever hint of a smile you had on your face slowly disappeared as realization dawned on you.
“I think I’ll text him right now and let him know I’m on my way. Give him a nice surprise when he realizes it’s not the pretty little girl that he wants.” Rafe said slyly, pulling back with a malicious smile.
“Then he and I can really talk, hm?”
The next day, Connor dropped the class.
‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵
#mariespen#outer banks#rafe cameron#obx fic#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x reader#rafe obx#rafe x reader#rafe x you#rafe imagine#rafe outer banks#rafe fanfiction#rafe drabble#rafe cameron blurb#jealous!rafe cameron#jealous rafe#obx x reader#outer banks imagine#obx fanfiction#obx
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for the night | min yoongi
title: for the night
pairing: drug lord!min yoongi x waitress!(f)reader
genre/rating: angst, childhood best friends to strangers to friends??, unrequited love, valentine’s day au, smut, romance, 18+
summary: Yoongi lives a dangerous life. So why is he so afraid of you?
warnings: idk what to say about these two, just a bunch of feelings (spoken & unspoken), light pining, pov switches, mentions d*ath & grieving, mentions dr*gs and violence, swearing, bl**d & injuries, p*stol wh*pping/ mild description of t*rture, crooked justice systems (it’s the wild wild west out there), mentions a robbery & a**ault (nothing involving the main story), mentions illnesses & health related topics, alcohol/drinking but no intoxication unless you count staring at yoongi for too long, black hair with the undercut yoongi, chains, rings, TATTOOS…. oh my !!!, yoongi has a gl*ck (a piece, that iron… whatever you wanna call it), everybody’s shipping these two but they’re just…yeah, eye f*cking from both parties, explicit content, the friend version of kiss & makeup??, dry h*mping, Dom!yoongi, yoongi getting head is a warning, protected s*x, gagging/deep throating, throat/face f*cking, hair pulling, crying, i’m sure yoongi has Sir kink hiding in there somewhere, manhandling, face slapping, yoongi’s fingers down your throat, missionary with your leg over yoongi’s shoulder, big d*ck!yoongi, his jewelry stays on bc why would it not?, cl*t stimulation, teasing, spitting, org*sm control, c*m shots, body worship, p*ssy eating, throat grabbing, i think that's all...
wc: 11.6k
release date: february 16, 2024; 10:15pm est
note: sorry i took forever. this is my first oneshot in a while so i apologize for mistakes. i'm just finding my footing in this writing thing again. thanks to @itaeewon for my banner and @cafekitsune who makes these pretty dividers. please follow both of them for cool graphics. anyway, happy late valentine's day. i love you guys.
masterlist | playlist | ao3 version
“Enjoy the rest of your night… and be safe!”
As you wave goodbye to the last lovely couple dining at your restaurant tonight, you express how thrilled you are of their return.
You stand in front of your father’s little restaurant and watch the lovebirds bundle up as they make their way to their vehicle, embracing each other and protecting themselves from the same frigid temperatures that threatened to ruin their Valentine’s day plans.
It’s nights like these that make the sacrifice of putting your nursing career on hold well worth it. This neighborhood doesn’t have a lot to offer as far as entertainment goes, so keeping this place in business is your top priority. This is your home, and the people you love put their all into this establishment.
You’ll make sure it thrives and continues to be a source of comfort to the community.
You’re excited to tell your father about tonight’s turn out. You know he will be pleased. It’s been busy all day with dine-ins and take outs; everyone looking for the perfect date night meal.
“The food is made with love,” is what your dad always says.
He always looks forward to this time of year, and he’s always talked about seeing you sitting in one of his booths with a special someone of your own some day.
You only nod when he brings up your dating life; sometimes his love for you blinds him from reality. You’ve never brought anyone home, or ever mentioned being involved with someone to him. Even if you came out and said it, he’d never believe you’re the problem.
A chilly breeze in the mid-February air snaps you out of your thoughts—so as soon as the couple’s sedan departs from the parking lot—you slip back inside.
The warmth instantly envelopes your trembling figure, and draws a small exhale from your lips.
Looking at your watch, you notice that it’s almost midnight. You switch the sign from open to close, but don’t bother locking the door because there’s one more visitor that should be arriving shortly.
You keep that in mind as you begin to clean the front of the house.
One by one, your father’s employees complete their duties in a haste, then clock out so they can go home to whoever is waiting for them. Their eagerness only brings a smile to your face.
As you’re sanitizing a table, you catch a glimpse of one of the waitresses dashing towards the door.
“Well, see you tomorrow, Kaci!”
She halts, then turns around to say her goodbyes—and to gossip.
“Night, boss lady,” she chirps.
Why she calls you “boss lady” is a mystery to you; your dad only left you in charge, but you’re just a manager. You still get on the floor and serve tables like everyone else.
You’re curious about the bit of mischief hidden in her tone. It’s not long before she reveals her true intentions.
“Did he stop by yet?”
And of course…she’s talking about Yoongi.
Usually, someone stops by on his behalf to collect the rent. His family allows your father and a few others to occupy the buildings on this lot for business. Payment is always to be paid in cash, so you make sure you visit the bank the morning of collections.
Your family has had a close relationship with the Mins for years, so they’ve been working with you while your father recovers.
You met Yoongi right in this restaurant at the young age of four, and from there, your friendship blossomed. You were inseparable throughout grade school, but senior year is when everything shifted.
It had to be the first time you both realized that you were on different paths after graduation. While you prepped for college, he was being introduced to the hustle that built his family’s empire.
If that didn’t tear a rift in your relationship, the underlying tension and unspoken feelings surely did. People used to always say at least one of you would eventually want something different, and you used to always laugh at them…until it became a fact.
You’ve always wondered if he ever felt the same as you did—or if he ever thought about exploring something more.
Unfortunately, you’ll never know what he was feeling. After graduation, he shut you out and never looked back. That was so long ago, though. You’ve grown, and the pain of losing someone you cared about eventually went away.
…So you thought.
Being home again brings back so many memories and forgotten feelings. Things you wish you still had, and things you wish you could have had. After experiencing so much throughout college, and learning more about yourself, you’d kill to go back in time so you can handle things differently.
You can’t help but think your friendship was torn apart by nothing more than a curious mind and raging hormones.
Yoongi’s so different now, though. However, you still see glimpses of the boy who would sneak into your window just to watch reruns of 90s cartoons with you. You smile just thinking about all the fun times you’ve shared, and all the trouble you got into.
“Look at you getting wet just thinking about him! I knew it. You’re whipped!”
“Can you keep your damn voice down,” you hiss. “Last thing I need is gossip right now.”
You’re so fed up with her teasing. If you two hadn’t just clicked when you took over the restaurant, you’d probably just kick her ass out in the cold.
“And, no. He has not. So, you can leave now, ma’am.”
“Oh, for sure,” she sighs dramatically. “Hell only knows what you two do when you are alone.”
Your jaw drops.
Sometimes this bond you share is a blessing; but other times, it’s a curse.
Kaci’s a sweetheart, but her mouth… Well, let’s just say these comments are normal for her.
And just like your father, she loves to play Cupid. No wonder he hired her.
“Just get your ass out of here.”
You can barely keep your laugh from bursting through your lips as you send a rag flying towards her. She dodges it, then proceeds to give you a middle finger. She has another shady comment ready to roll off the tip of her tongue, but then she glances out of the glass door and smirks instead.
You scoff. “Bitch, what is it now?”
Kaci then shakes her head.
“Nothing, babe. I’m out,” she winks. Kaci then points towards the parking lot and whispers, “Daddy’s here.”
“Huh? What are you talking about—”
Crawling into one of the booths, you partially open the blinds with your fingers and peek out of the window.
About seven sets of headlights stare back at you, all belonging to vehicles that are as dark as the midnight hour. A BMW sits in the center, blacked out with tinted windows and black custom rims. However, you don’t need a look inside to know who it is. No one else would pull up like they own the lot.
All the businesses are closed, which means these aren’t customers. It’s the boss.
Your heart rate builds up when the door opens and his sneakers touch the concrete. He stands there for a moment fixing his jacket and discreetly observing his surroundings.
Your eyes follow his movements. You can only hear the bass from his music and the noises coming from your throat as you try to gulp down the saliva building up in your mouth.
All you needed to see was the top of his head to confirm what you already knew.
Yoongi’s here, and he’s the one coming to collect payment tonight.
You don’t know why your heart is about to pound out of your chest like you’re hexed by some teenage crush. Maybe you are still hung up on him a little bit. You can’t deny how attractive he still is. He definitely wears age well.
The dark hair suits him perfectly. You can remember the horror stories about the color experiments gone wrong when you were teenagers. It’s a surprise that it’s still luscious and healthy as it is.
However, that isn’t the only thing that has changed in his appearance.
They’re hard to spot under his jacket, but his torso, back, and arms are covered in tattoos. You only know about this because another waitress working here loves to share the story of how she was on her knees in a bathroom giving a shirtless Yoongi a blowjob.
You would never admit jealousy, but damn; that lucky bitch.
Yoongi starts to make his way across the parking lot, pushing back his hair with his ringed-fingers to grant better vision out of his peripherals. You know he’s always watching his back; he can never be too careful when he’s making moves.
His haircut allows you to get a glimpse of the ink crawling up his neck, disappearing behind his ear. His earring dangles in the wind as he strides in your direction.
Each step is confident and dominant; his aura dark and mysterious.
A man who is about his business, it’s no shock that heads turn when he steps into the room. He’s reserved, but not afraid to enforce his authority when he deems necessary. You heard stories, and crossing Yoongi is considered a death wish.
He’s like the hot badass described in movies or books, but he actually is that guy. Handsome, street-wise, tattoos and scars; paired with money, jewelry, and you’d be stupid to think he isn’t packing.
You can smell the power and Dior emitting from his body all the way from where you are.
Each step he takes towards the entrance of the restaurant gives you a better view without being noticed. It’s a sin how good he looks and he’s just wearing a simple outfit with some sneakers. You have no business feeling these kinds of things, but it’s impossible to not.
“Can he just bend us over already?”
You hear Kaci whisper the same words you were just thinking. But she can’t know that, so you swat her again for good measure.
“Fine…I’m leaving,” she whines, walking to the door.
You back out of the booth and move over to the host stand so you can roll silverware and act like you weren’t watching him.
Kaci opens the door just as he’s about to reach for the handle, and of course, she gives him a warm welcome.
“Hi, Yoongi,” she beams. You roll your eyes the second you hear that annoying high-pitched voice she uses when she’s being coy.
“Hey, can you hang back for a bit? It won’t be long.”
“Yeah, sure. Everything okay?”
The look he gives her sends your radar up, so you set down the utensils in your hand and join them in the lobby.
“Hey,” you greet him when he notices you. “What’s going on?”
Yoongi sighs before he answers, shaking his head as he gathers his words.
“You know the alterations shop over there?”
His head nods in the direction of the Leonard’s shop a few stores down. Both of you nod because they take lunch breaks here everyday.
“Somebody hit them up about an hour ago. Left their daughter in bad shape before they stripped the registers,” he informs.
“Are you serious? That’s awful.”
“Yeah, they’re good people. Who would do something that disgusting?” Kaci asks.
Yoongi only shrugs. “Don’t know, but as soon as I find out…”
He doesn’t even need to continue. It’ll be bad; probably worse than you can imagine. One thing the Min’s don’t tolerate is disrespect. You mess with one of their people, you get handled. In this case, you can’t even feel bad for the bastard. That family doesn’t bother anyone. It’s a shame they were targeted.
“Anyway, I don’t want either of you lingering around here at night anymore. Stick together during opening and closing until we catch this motherfucker understand?”
“Yeah, got it,” you reply, and Kaci also agrees.
“Sure, not a problem.”
With everyone on the same page, you make a note in your mind to update the security system in the restaurant and think of some safety tips for employees. No one can ever be too careful, especially after what just occurred so close to home.
“And Kaci?” he calls, just as she’s getting ready to depart.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t walk home. Your pepper spray is expired. Ask one of the guys to drive you.”
“Is Hoseok out there?”
You and Yoongi share a look. He’s probably wondering what it’s about, but then again, who doesn’t know they’re fucking?
“Yeah…he is—”
“Kay, bye!”
Before the door slams in your face, you call out to her.
“Text me when you’re home!... Or when you’re able to use your hands.”
Yoongi chuckles as the both of you watch her dash across the lot. You aren’t sure how she’s able to spot the right SUV, but she does within seconds.
“This has been going on for a while, huh?” Yoongi inquires.
“Mhm. Fight, fuck, repeat.”
After a moment goes by, you realize you forgot to bring the money you owe Yoongi. You snap your fingers when you remember why he’s there in the first place.
“Oh, yeah. Come on, it’s back here,” you tell him.
Yoongi follows you toward the back of the restaurant until you reach the small manager’s office tucked in a corner of the kitchen. While you dig in your apron for the key, Yoongi checks in with you to see how everything’s going.
“How’s your dad?”
You pause to look at him and answer with a proud smile. Your father’s been working really hard on his road to recovery; it’s nice to talk about his accomplishments without someone looking at you with pity, which Yoongi never does.
“He’s been doing better. Lots of physical therapy, but he walked on his own yesterday.”
With a nod, Yoongi’s expression softens. “That’s the shit I like to hear.”
“Me too.”
Once you find the keys, you unlock the door and the both of you step inside the dark room.
“Thanks,” you whisper when he flips the lightswitch for you.
You can feel him watching you as you walk around the desk, and when you squat down to open the safe underneath, you hear his footsteps approaching.
You start entering the combination while he whistles and looks around your office.
You’re curious about what he’s looking at, but right now you can't even take a peek without him noticing. Instead, you focus on gathering the cash you owe him for last month and this month while he’s busy snooping around.
After a while, you figure he’s found something interesting because the room becomes quiet. You grab the stack you set aside and close the safe, making sure it’s locked before you do anything else.
“So how was your day?”
Yoongi’s deep voice tears a giant rift in the silence, startling you and causing you to bump your head on the edge of the desk. Thankfully, his back is turned and he didn’t hear the small thud because you’d be beyond embarrassed.
“It was okay,” you reply as you regain your footing.
Yoongi turns in your direction when he hears your words become clearer, indicating you’re no longer digging around in the safe. He meets you halfway and you extend your hand with the stack of money resting between your fingers.
“This is all of it.”
Yoongi looks at the stack before he responds. Most of the time, it’s so hard to know what he’s thinking because his expression is always so stoic.
“Just okay?” he quizzes.
“Yeah, pretty much. It was busy so I was stuck in autopilot most of the day.”
He still hasn’t made a move to accept the money. You feel kind of awkward being so close to him as is, and his lack of response makes you feel even more anxious.
Finally, he speaks. “Do you even have this to give me?”
“Yeah, we’re good. Please, take it.”
You gesture for him to take the money, and he reaches for it, making you believe he’s going to grab it.
“It’s all here. If you want me to count it, I—”
“Don’t worry about it,” he insists.
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said,” he shrugs.
“Yoongi, no. We haven’t paid in a month. My dad would already be mad at me for being behind.”
“Does he have to know?” The look Yoongi gives you reminds you of all the times he’s talked you into doing something wild. He’d always take the blame if you got caught, but the thrill always made getting grounded irrelevant to you. “Keep it. We’re good until he gets back, okay?”
“Yoongi, I can’t.”
“You can’t?”
“I won’t,” you declare confidently.
“So you’re arguing with me?”
Your eyes widen, realizing that he wasn’t giving you an option.
“I-I’m sorry. I was just—”
“Don’t worry about it, alright? Just keep doing what you’re doing. I only hear good things about this place,” he concludes.
“Okay, ok. Thanks, Yoongi.”
“Don’t mention it.”
As you’re returning the money to the safe, Yoongi brings something to your attention.
“I don’t see your car outside.”
“Ah, shit. It needed to be serviced. I was supposed to pick it up on my lunch, but I forgot.”
After visiting the bank this morning, you dropped your vehicle off at the dealership for maintenance, but the breakfast rush swarmed in as soon as you arrived at work. By the time you thought about picking it up, it was well after business hours.
“Um, do you mind—”
“Wanna ride?” Yoongi offers.
“Please.” Relieved, you exhale a needed sigh. “If it’s not an inconvenience.”
“Not at all, love.”
You quickly grab your purse and switch off the light in your office, ignoring that feeling you got from the little pet name.
Yoongi leads the way this time. As you’re following him through the restaurant, you’re sure to double check everything before you leave. Even Yoongi turns to ask you if you’ve secured everything.
“Good?”
“Yeah, everything’s turned off and we’re locked up tight.”
“Cool.”
Walking into the dining area, you give everything a quick once-over before following Yoongi to the exit. Everything looks tidy and neat how you like it so you step out into the cold night with your chauffeur.
He waits with you while you lock the front doors, looking around for any curious eyes. After you’ve finished turning the lock and key, you give the handle a tug to make sure it doesn’t open.
Growing up in this neighborhood will teach you a thing or two about being cautious and aware of your surroundings.
“It’s freezing tonight,” you comment.
Sometimes you like to make small talk with Yoongi, see where the conversation goes. Depending on the mood he’s in, he’ll either have one sentence responses or he’ll engage in light conversation.
You don’t mention the past much. It seems like pretending it never happened is easier for both of you. However, sometimes you have an impulse to bring up the subject, or at least try to mend what’s broken.
If that’s possible.
“Cold? This is perfect weather.”
You roll your eyes. He’s definitely fucking with you.
“Oh, whatever. You know it’s freezing out here.”
You don’t care how ridiculous you look speeding towards his car. You’re shivering and Yoongi takes forever to unlock the door.
You shuffle from foot to foot, wiggling to build up some body heat. You can hear the fabric of your jeans rubbing together due to the friction.
“You know it’s already unlocked, right?”
Oh.
You climb inside and relief washes over you. The heat is blowing warm and strong, making the leather seats even more comfortable. The seat warmers keep your butt cozy, and the vents are aiming towards your upper body. It’s perfect; you could fall asleep right here.
When Yoongi gets in the driver seat, your head lolls in his direction.
“Thank you.”
“For?” he asks.
“Your car feels like heaven right now.”
Yoongi scoffs softly.
“It isn’t always this warm. Trust me,” he replies.
“Well regardless, thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Not a problem, love.”
Fuck.
Yoongi’s engine revs as he pulls out of the parking lot. A thought comes into your mind as the vibrations travel up your body.
“Does it ever make your balls tingle?”
He coughs, clearing his throat while checking to see if he heard right.
“Uh, what?”
“The car,” you elaborate. “When you’re driving it…You don’t feel anything?”
Honestly, you’re just chatting to keep yourself from falling asleep. You don’t even expect him to answer as you stare out of the window, watching the SUVs fade in the distance.
“I guess I never really thought about it,” he responds.
You nod, vibing to the music. He’s turned the volume down since you’ve joined him, so you can actually hear each other speak.
“Hm. Sure does make your pussy tingle.”
You don’t think he heard that part. It was barely a whisper. If he did, he chose to ignore it.
“You alright?”
“Yup,” you answer. “Just ready to unwind.”
“Any plans tonight?”
You sit up in your seat, and turn to him.
“You bet.”
Yoongi laughs. “Oh, yeah?”
“I have a date with my bed, and I’m gonna let my blanket top me.”
“Gotcha. So you’re locked down, huh?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Well, it sure sounds like it. I never see you having any fun.”
You give him a look.
“Well, look who’s talking. Besides, you know I’m dealing with a lot right now.”
“Fair enough, but you’re still allowed to do something for yourself for a change. Some of us don’t have that privilege,” he replies.
“I think everyone has the privilege to do something for themselves. You just have to be selfish enough to go for it, I guess.”
“That is true.”
Yoongi then turns the music up a few notches. You already know what that means. He’s over conversation and wants to get lost in his thoughts.
As you cruise through the streets, people may look on the surface and think this is some young bachelor taking his car for a late night drive—maybe heading to one of the city’s hot spots.
But Yoongi is all work, and no play. If it’s not about moving product, it’s placed on the backburner.
You can relate, but tonight you’re switching it up. Self care is calling your name and you aren’t hanging up this time.
“What happened to the garden?”
You’re pulled from your thoughts by Yoongi’s voice.
As he pulls up to the curve in front of your childhood home, he can’t stop himself from teasing you about your dying plants. You really tried your best with them, but unfortunately, you weren’t gifted with nurturing hands.
“You’re not funny,” you mutter, acting ignorant.
You know you’ve destroyed your dad’s flower bed, but he doesn’t have to make fun of you.
“I’m just saying, shouldn't you cover them?”
“I forgot!”
“You always do,” he mumbles.
You giggle as you’re opening the door; finally having a carefree conversation with your old friend again feels nice. As soon as you step out into the elements again, the winter air nips at your cheeks and you know you’ll be trembling by the time you get to your doorstep.
“Well, thanks for the ride.”
Yoongi just nods and tells you that he’d do it anytime you needed him to.
As you stand outside of the car, you start to get that feeling in your gut. That urge you know you shouldn’t have, but the temptation is stronger than ever.
Yoongi tilts his head, wondering why you’re standing in the cold. You’re frozen, silently debating on what you should do.
Ultimately, you go for it, knowing the risk you’re taking without being prepared for the aftermath.
You’re even sure why you’re asking, or where you expect things to go. But tonight made you realize something. You miss having a best friend.
Your best friend.
“Hey, it's late. You wanna come inside?... If you don’t have any plans.”
Regret washes over you as soon as the words leave your mouth. You weren’t ready, neither was he. You curse yourself for rushing it. The silence goes on for ages, but you’re so numb, the cold doesn’t faze you.
Finally, he gives you an answer. “You know I can’t do that.”
Well, now you know you’re the only one still holding on. By can’t, he means he won’t.
Nodding, you lie and pretend that you understand where he’s coming from. “Yeah, I get it. Sorry about that.”
You were sure he’d be more open now that time has passed. However, you’re still stuck where you left off. He still won’t hear you out.
“There’s no need,” he assures.
Still, you feel guilty. Selfish.
Foolish.
“Well look, I'll see you around, yeah?” He checks his phone and tosses it on the passenger seat. "I have to go deal with something."
“Okay, thanks again for the ride. Stay safe.”
You try not to look disappointed, but it’s probably no good. You’re sure he hears it in your voice. Or maybe you sound more tired than anything. You are exhausted. Maybe it’s your restless mind that's causing you to get ahead of yourself and open old wounds. It’s best you go inside before you can dig yourself a bigger hole.
“You'll call me if you need me, right?”
If you need him…
You always need him. He’s your rock. Well, probably not anymore. How do you learn to forget someone who’s always been there for you?
You swallow the bitterness coating your tongue before you reply. You’ll get over it. You always do.
Just not right now.
“Yeah, I’ve tried that already. Goodnight, Yoongi.”
You shut his car door and retreat to the safety of your home. You’re unsure if he says it back or not. You walk away before he can respond.
Everything in your sight becomes blurry as your vision is blocked by a wave of pending tears. You urgently open your front door in case he’s following you.
A part of you wishes that he did.
But the longer you stand there, back pressed against your front door, secluded from the same world you’ve just finished servicing—you realize that the chances of that happening are too slim to hold onto.
Minutes go by, and you start calming down. You find your strength again, and you realize that your vulnerability made you panic. You got too comfortable, and that’s your fault.
Tonight will just be another solo night; nothing you aren’t used to.
You wipe your face and rid yourself of all the negative energy. Tomorrow you’ll be fine and the blow of rejection will start to fade away. Shaking your head, you clear your mind and start taking off your clothes.
You put it in your mind that you won’t hold this against Yoongi, and whenever he’s ready to talk—if ever—you’ll tell your side of the story if he wants to hear it.
Until then, you’ll just focus on you because he was right about one thing.
You should treat yourself; you deserve it.
“Get your sorry ass up.”
Yoongi stares at his hand as he walks away from the battered man lying on the ground. His knuckles are bruised and covered in the thief’s blood. The sight would bring shame to his father. He shouldn’t be out here behaving like a street thug when he’s got power moves to make.
But when he found out there was danger lurking so close to you, he had to deliver the message himself. He’s sure it was heard loud and clear.
Possibilities played through his mind with every blow that rained down on the guy. What if it was your father’s restaurant that had been hit up? What if you had been inside?
He’s furious, enraged; but mostly at himself for how he keeps letting you down. You wanted to forgive him tonight, put everything that happened behind you and maybe try again. But what did he do?
He ruined it.
He always figured that he would, but it’s what you needed to hear. He’s not a good guy or some bad boy you can turn good. Yoongi’s in this too deep to be pulled out. There’s no way he could ever look your father in the eye and tell him that he’s put your life in danger.
That’s why he refuses to address those feelings he has for you. He’d either end up breaking your heart, or getting you into a nasty situation.
If the wrong person were to know that he has a thing for you, you’d become a weapon for an opp to use against him. Yoongi’s respected by many, but there are some who want everything he has; you’d be added to the top of that list if they knew he’d died for you.
He can’t lose what his family’s worked hard for, but he can’t lose you either.
There’s only two options if that line’s ever crossed. Either you’re with him, and you’ll have to step into his world; or you’re not; and the streets deem you fair game.
The latter infuriates him. He’d kill anyone who would ever think of laying a finger on you. That’s why he has to make examples out of motherfuckers like the one behind him.
“You need to find you something safe to do, my friend.”
Yoongi turns around just as the man rises to his feet, staggering and weak from the beating he’s received. One of his arms cradles his torso while the other wipes blood from his lips. He’d receive pity from anyone without the context, but if they knew what he did to that seamstress—they’d be wondering why he’s still alive.
This is far less than what this scum deserves. His apologies fall on deaf ears. Yoongi’s men don’t give a shit about his apology, and neither does he.
“I’m so sorry. I…I didn’t know this was your block too. I was just—”
Yoongi pulls out his glock and fires a shot near the guy’s foot, barely missing him. He doesn’t recall asking him to speak.
“You better assume every block is mine, motherfucker. I own this fucking city. Have you forgotten?”
“I—”
Another shot nearly blows his head off because once again, Yoongi never asked him to talk.
“Who told you to open your mouth?...” he seethes. “Speak again and I won’t miss.”
The man nods, lifting his shaky hands as a surrender.
Yoongi’s jaw clenches as he contemplates his next move. A few minutes ago, he was set on ending him right in this spot, but after thinking about you he’s calmed down a lot.
That’s the only reason this man’s life will be spared. His mind is somewhere else now; all he can think about is his own mistakes. This guy’s learned his lesson; no need to waste anymore of his time here.
“Look, don’t ever put me in this situation again. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Sir. I won’t. I promise.”
Yoongi knocks the guy out cold with his gun. He looks over at the officer who was escorting the guy to jail and gives him a nod, giving him the clear to take him in.
“This was a citizen’s arrest,” he insists, handing the cop a wad of cash.
“You got that.”
He dismisses his men, and goes to have a cigarette while he thinks.
After the criminal is placed in the back of the squad car, the cop rejoins Yoongi as he sits on the hood of his vehicle, having a smoke before he goes on with his night.
“Never thought I’d see you get dirty, especially tonight.”
Yoongi scoffs. “Yeah, me either.”
Yoongi looks at his personal phone, looking to see if you’ve texted him, or called. He doesn’t know why he’s checking. He shouldn’t expect you to reach out after how he left you tonight. It’d be a miracle if you ever wanted to see him again.
“It’s not too late, you know.”
“The fuck are you talking about, Shark?”
Shark is one of his longtime friends. He comes from a long line of crooked cops.
He’s been present through the ups and downs of his friendship with you. Shark’s always been rooting on your side, always telling him to reach out when you left for college.
Yoongi has never taken his advice, though.
“I’m just saying. Maybe you should just call her,” he explains.
“Who?”
“You want me to say her name out here?”
Yoongi shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”
Both of them share a laugh at Yoongi’s reaction, but then silence falls over the night.
Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, Yoongi’s hands are beginning to throb with pain. He tries focusing on something other than that awful feeling, but he can only think about you.
Why couldn’t he just hear you out? That would have been fair. He’s regretting more and more as time goes by, wondering if the opportunity has slipped away.
He notices the way you look at him, the way you perk up when you see him. He knows there are a lot of unspoken words because honestly, he’s always had deeper feelings for you. It was way before you realized you like him as well. He bottled that shit up throughout high school, and when he had the chance to tell you how he felt, he fumbled.
You even gave him a second chance to come clean, and he still couldn’t get it together.
“Seriously, what happened tonight? I see it all over your face.”
Yoongi sighs. “I took her home, and she invited me inside.”
“And you said no? Dude, no way.”
Yoongi looks over and finds his friend’s face stuck in a grimace. He feels shame creeping up his neck, so he quickly shifts his focus somewhere else.
“What was I supposed to say? You know I can’t let anyone see me walking in her place,” he argues.
“You could have invited her to yours, explained things a bit more. I’m sure she’s capable of making decisions for herself.”
Yoongi’s at a crossroads, but every way he turns leaves him with doubt. It’s like he’s damn regardless.
“What if it doesn’t change her mind? What should I tell her dad, huh?” Yoongi rants. “He asked me to keep her safe, man.”
“And what do you think he meant by that?”
Shark looks at his watch and turns to Yoongi as he prepares to leave.
“Look, my shift ends soon, so I gotta go. But I think you know as well as I do that you have the old man’s blessings. Just stop overthinking it. You’ll screw yourself.”
With that, Shark walks to his vehicle, and puts it in drive.Before he pulls from underneath the overpass, he rolls his window down and yells out.
“It’ll be alright, brother. Trust me!”
When Shark leaves, he switches cars with his right hand, not wanting to double back to your part of town in the same ride. As he starts driving away from the secluded area, he thinks back on how tonight has gone so far. That’s when something you said hits him…and it hits him hard.
“You said you needed me,” he whispers.
All day you’ve been surrounded by people, loving each other; only to go home to an empty house. You just wanted some company, a distraction. You wanted a friend.
It’s then he realizes that he’s hurt your feelings more than a little. You weren’t hung up on a crush you had over five years ago. He’s so stupid. How did his brain not perceive what you said as an invitation to hang out?
Just like you used to.
Yoongi does a U-turn and heads straight for your house. He has no idea what you’ll say to him, or if you’ll speak to him at all. But he needs you to know one thing; he gets it now. And he won’t ever let you down again.
No matter how many times you watch it, the horror classic Thirteen Ghosts never gets old. Your dad laughs whenever you call it your comfort flick, but he’s also not a horror fan so he just wouldn’t understand.
That bath worked more magic than you could ever imagine. It’s super late, and you should be in bed, but you’ve been thinking about the bottle of wine you bought the other day since earlier.
You aren’t really a drinker, but the bottle was cute. You figured tonight would be the perfect chance to eat some snacks, watch a movie, and give it a try. But as soon as the glass touches your lips, your doorbell rings.
You’re not expecting anyone this late. When you don’t answer, they pound on the door, startling you. Wine spills all over your hands. Quickly, you use your shirt to dry them off before making a bigger mess. You drink what’s left in the glass in one gulp before checking your Ring camera, letting out a gasp when you discover who’s standing at your doorstep.
“Yoongi?” you whisper.
Placing your phone and empty glass on the coffee table, you go to see what he wants. If you’re honest, you’re a bit worried. Did someone break into the restaurant?
Your dad would be devastated.
Without a second thought, you open the door, and interrogate Yoongi before he can even open his mouth.
“Is everything okay? Did something happen to my dad’s—”
“Oh, fuck. No! No, that’s not why I’m here,” he interrupts.
You breathe a sigh of relief, clutching your chest as the panic slowly leaves your body. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No, it’s okay. What’s up? Are you okay?”
Now that you’re not shaken with worry, you notice how disheveled he looks. His hair is messy; his expression seems anxious, his knuckles bruised.
“Were you fighting?” you quiz.
“Huh?” Yoongi looks confused but then suddenly seems to remember his injury. “Oh, this is nothing. I’m good. I just came to uhh… To see you.”
Your eyebrow raises curiously. “To see me?”
“Yeah,” he confirms.
“Okay, well… that’s nice of you, but I was planning on going to bed in a bit. I have to get up early.”
You aren’t sure why he’s acting weird. Is he in trouble? Surely, he’d tell you if he was. If so, why would he come here?
“Um, okay. Sorry,” he answers.
You tell him goodnight and attempt to shut the door, but Yoongi lodges his arm into the opening.
“What are you doing—”
“I’m listening.”
“What?”
You open the door once again, fully believing this man has lost his mind. It’s freezing out there, and he’s just standing there babbling.
“I said I’m listening,” he repeats. “Tell me.”
“Tell you what, Yoongi?”
You’ve never been more confused. First, he drops you off and hauls ass across town. Now he’s pacing at your doorstep, fumbling all over his words. Something’s going on.
“You wanted to talk, but I ghosted you, remember?”
Oh. So he remembers that.
“That’s water under the bridge. Just forget it,” you insist.
“So now I’m water under the bridge?”
“What?! No! That’s not what I said.”
“Well, explain,” he pleads. “Or just tell me it’s too late.”
“Yoongi…”
“I just wanna be friends again, but this haunts me. If you have feelings for me, I can’t—”
“I don’t,” you admit.
This is the first time Yoongi has stood completely still since he got here. He stares at you with wide eyes, not uttering a single word.
It took you a long time to understand your feelings for Yoongi. You had to experience a few unnecessary hook ups and break ups to realize you weren’t in love. You just wanted to fuck him like everyone else.
Who knows where things would have gone? But it would have been nice to let things happen naturally than to bottle up feelings.
You open the door again, and step to the side.
“Come in. It’s cold.”
This time he doesn’t reject your invitation.
Yoongi follows you into your living room, looking around and probably reminiscing over the past. Nothing’s really changed other than the furniture. However, the memories of the days you two used to run around while your mom scolded you for messing up the floors are still present.
You point to the couch and offer him a seat while you stand there gathering your words.
“You can sit here.”
“Thanks,” he replies.
Yoongi sits and does that thing he does with his hands when he’s nervous. His fingers intertwine and he just watches his thumbs chase each other in a loop. He used to do it all the time whenever he’d stay too late at your house and his dad would come looking for him.
Your parents always were able to calm Mr. Min down before he could reprimand Yoongi. It took him a while but he finally understood that you and his son were best friends, and your place was Yoongi’s second home.
There are so many evenings he’d miss basketball practice to hold you while you cried after your mom died. Yoongi never left your side. Even when you were unrightfully resentful and angry with him for still having his mom in his life; he understood every stage of your grief.
So no, he’s not just water under the bridge to you. He could never be. He may be wrong for shutting you out, but everyone has their breaking point.
“I wanted to tell you that I was in love with you. That I wanted you to go with me to college,” you confess.
Yoongi’s jaw nearly hits the floor. You can tell he’s shocked because he starts tripping over his words.
“I-I… I didn’t know that. I’m sorry. You—”
“...Was confused,” you add.
You can’t help but laugh at yourself and at the situation. All this time you’ve been scared to rip the bandaid off, and the wound’s already healed.
“I didn’t have anyone to talk with about dating and stuff; not from a young woman’s perspective, at least. I would watch rom-coms and thought I had butterflies whenever I saw you. Whole time…”
You fold your arms and lean against the wall, watching the television with a blank stare. Already, it feels like a weight is being lifted off your shoulders. So much tension has built up over time, so many unspoken words and unresolved feelings that it’s a relief to get it all out.
“...My pussy was throbbing.”
Yoongi picks his mouth up off the floor, and straightens in his seat. Once again, he’s caught off guard.
“Huh-What?”
You snort. “I was horny, curious… I just wanted you to bend me over and deflower me.”
“Deflower you? The fuck?”
Yoongi’s laughter erupts from his chest, lightening the vibes in the room. It’s nice to hear him laugh, like genuinely grin and reveal his cute smile. You didn’t realize how much you missed seeing the image until it’s presented to you at that moment.
“Well, it’s true!”
“I see you are still an over-sharer,” Yoongi chuckles.
“And you’re still stubborn.”
Both of you look at each, shaking your heads and sharing a fond smile. You can tell this has been weighing on him as much as it did you. He’s regretful of how he handled the situation, and you’re sorry for staying away so long.
You should have tried harder. Yoongi always did whenever it got tough.
Regardless, it’s in the past. It’s time to move on.
You walk across the room with your arms open, inviting your friend into an embrace.
“Seriously? No way,” he grimaces, trying to get up before you can close him in.
Unfortunately, he’s not fast enough.
“You know you want to. Come here.”
Wrapping your arms around Yoongi, you giggle when he acts like he’s all tense. He always pretends he doesn’t want to hug you at first, but then, he gives in.
“Fuck it,” he groans, pulling you closer.
You melt in his arm almost immediately. You don’t even care if you slide to the floor. All of your weight rests on him, but he still holds you up while complaining about you smothering him.
“I wish I could breathe,” he gripes.
“Fine…”
Yoongi expects you to back away; but instead, you climb on his lap.
“What are you doing?”
You shrug. “My bad. I thought we were cool.”
Maybe you did move a little too quickly, but it’s nothing you haven’t done hundreds of times. You’ve shared beds, seen each other naked… accidentally found each other’s Pornhub accounts. You were just acting on instinct.
You’re about to stand, but Yoongi stops you. “We are, but aren’t you mad at me?... From earlier?”
“A little, but…”
“But what?”
“Can’t friends kiss and make up?” you propose.
His hands rest on your bare thighs, fingers gently nudging at your big t-shirt. The room seems warmer now that there’s no distance between you. Or maybe it’s just the fires building in your belly that’s making you hot?
“Maybe…”
You trace his lips with your finger tips while looking in his eyes. You could spend the night like this if it were up to you. He’s beautiful; inside and out.
“Wanna try and find out?” he whispers.
You respond by softly connecting your lips, moaning instantly as your entire body begins to tingle.
Yoongi pulls you closer, holds you tighter, and encourages you to deepen the kiss you share by parting your lips with his tongue. You don’t deny him, and he invades your mouth—taking over and leaving you dizzy from the lack of oxygen.
Suddenly, he pulls away, and you’re quick to whine.
“I smell wine,” he comments. “Are you—”
“I had a sip, and the rest spilled all over my hands.”
You show him the stains on your hands and shirt, and he just stares in disbelief. “Only you.”
“Whatever,” you dismiss, trying to steal another kiss from his wet lips. “I need you.”
You drag your crotch across his lap, seeking friction. You’re shocked when he grabs your waist, thinking you’re overstepped once again.
“Hold on.”
Yoongi reaches under his shirt and grabs his gun from his waistband. He shoves it in the folds of your couch, and throws you a wink.
“We’ve kissed. Now let's make up.”
With a smile, you get up and grab his hand.
“Follow me…”
“Get on the bed,” he moans against your lips, pulling away to take off his shirt.
You begin to move, but a thought pops up in your mind.
Instead of climbing on the bed, you watch him remove his t-shirt and reveal his ink covered body. You bite your lip in awe at the masterpiece standing in front of you. He has no idea how hot he looks while simply undressing. You’re ready to pounce on him right now, but you pace yourself.
You have all night.
When Yoongi notices you’re still standing in the same spot, he tilts his head with a puzzled expression.
“Change your mind?” he quizzes.
You shake your head, and close the small space between you. Before he can say anything else, you drop to your knees. With skilled hands, you pull on his belt until it's free from the buckle. You flash Yoongi a smirk when you discover he’s watching you with those dark eyes.
As you pop open the button on his pants, your other hand flattens over his denim covered dick, noting the way it begs to be freed.
“I can’t wait,” you murmur, stroking it over his jeans.
Once you’re finally able to access his underwear, you reach inside and retrieve his thick, warm cock. You don’t care if you moaned before your lips even touched it. Shame is long gone, and you aren’t afraid to show Yoongi how long you’ve been waiting for this.
“I can tell,” he scoffs.
You let his smart remarks slide for the sake of your impatience, and move in to run the tip of your tongue up and down his slit. His precum oozes out and coats your taste buds, giving you a tiny sample of what he’ll taste like when he dumps his load on your tongue.
Yoongi hisses, probably reacting to sensitivity. You keep going, giving him a moment to ground himself before you give him the real deal.
While you tease him, you admire his girth. He’s heavy in your hand, but his dick is the perfect size to wrap your hand around it. It’s smooth, but textured and veiny—just like his hands.
No longer able to wait any longer, you part your lips and let your saliva cover the tip. You use your fingers and palm to lubricate the rest of his shaft so that it slides into your mouth with ease. Only when he’s dripping wet with spit do you take him in, and his reaction is golden.
“Ahh, fuck.”
If you could smile, you would right now. Knowing you have him on his tiptoes almost feels as good as the blunt head of his dick touching the back of your throat.
You can feel his muscles tenses up once your head begins to bob up and down, purposefully slurping loudly to create sinful noises.
“Fuck,” Yoongi curses.
His voice is rough as he pants through his words, attempting to keep his composure, but failing.
When Yoongi’s hand finds the back of your head, you look up to see what he’s doing. You keep going as you watch him whisper profanities into the air, running his ringed fingers through his dark strands.
He gathers your hair in his palm, making your scalp tingle and sting due to his strong grip. He starts controlling your movements, managing how much of him you take in at once. It’s not long before you’re choking and gagging on his cock.
Drops of your spit and tears fall to the floor. Your head starts to spin from the vigorous motions, but the feeling doesn’t prevent you from allowing Yoongi to fuck your throat until it’s raw.
Craving more, he thrusts into your mouth. The look on his face and the desperation of his movements lets you know he’s almost near his peak. However, once he realizes what’s happening, he swiftly pulls out, leaving you coughing due to the sudden intake of air.
“Look at me,” he commands after you catch your breath. “You’re fucking hot for that.”
“Thank you—”
Yoongi’s hand smacks the smirk off your face. You’re caught off guard, but that doesn’t stop your pussy from gushing at the change in his tone.
“But is that what I told you to do?”
You try to shake your head, but he’s still holding your hair.
“No, use your fucking mouth.”
When you try to speak, he shoves his fingers in your mouth, pushing them deep enough to gag you.
“You like using your mouth, don’t you?” he asks, but you know he isn’t looking for an answer. “So speak.”
“I do,” you croak around his digits.
“Now get the fuck on the bed like I told you to the first time.”
Yoongi snatches you up, and you scramble to the bed. You sit and wait for him to take off the rest of his clothes, trying to remain patient as you see he’s not in the mood for disobedience. You weren’t bothered the slightest by his lack of respect.
In fact, you crave more; and if you have to beg for it, you will.
“Second thoughts?” he asks randomly.
You notice that his wallet’s in his hand and after a few seconds he pulls out a condom. You get butterflies the moment he places a knee on the bed. For you, it’s not even happening fast enough.
“No way.”
“Good,” he winks. “Because I’m not gentle.”
“And I’m not glass.”
Yoongi growls when he hears that response, crawling over to you at lightning speed.
“Come here.”
He grabs your thigh and pulls you closer, pushing your legs apart so he can access your center. His fingers trace over your lace panties until he ultimately decides to rip them off of you.
You squeak in surprise when you hear the fabric tearing.
“Yoongi!”
“Shh,” he coos. “They’re ruined anyway.”
With a face burning with embarrassment, you turn away and stare at the wall while Yoongi puts the condom on. You can feel his eyes on you, observing the way he makes you fidget and squirm.
You get too comfortable lying there in your own thoughts. The sensation between your thighs catches you off guard.
“Ooh, shit Yoongi!”
Your body reacts the instant his dick rubs against your clit. You’re already worked up and ready to be filled, but Yoongi doesn’t want to skip the foreplay.
“Damn, it’s wet.”
He rubs the tip over your crevice, taunting you each time he passes your entrance. Just when you think he’ll slide in, he moves up to your throbbing clit and repeats.
“Please stop teasing,” you beg.
Yoongi laughs. “Why should I?”
“Because—”
You begin to whine and complain, but your words get stuck in your throat when Yoongi suddenly enters your pussy.
“Oh my god.”
Your wetness allows him to slide in easily, but your body wasn’t prepared to take him all at once.
You grip your sheets for support, but the initial shock of him moving so quickly takes almost a minute to subside.
Yoongi’s patient, giving your body time to adjust before he worries about pleasure. His thumb slowly massages your clit, getting you to relax under his touch. When your grip on the sheets finally loosen, he makes tiny strokes to test the waters.
“Good now?” he asks.
“Mhm.”
With your approval, he positions himself over you and fucks you a little deeper. Once he finds the perfect rhythm, he moves your right leg and places it on his shoulder.
You’re already moaning loudly, not caring who hears. You cry out everytime his dick digs into your cervix, exploring places you never knew could be reached.
You’ve begged guys to go deep, but they’ve always been scared to test their limits. Not Yoongi; he’s giving you everything he has, and even though you’re barely holding onto your sanity, you’d probably cry if he stopped.
“Take that damn shirt off,” he growls, gripping the giant t-shirt draped over your body.
You almost can’t figure out how to get it off, but by a miracle you manage. Now completely naked, you toss the clothing aside and start groping your tits while you lift your hips to meet his thrusts. You thought Yoongi would enjoy watching you, but he’s not impressed.
“Who told you to touch yourself?” he presses.
You don’t answer quickly enough for him. Honestly, you weren’t going to reply because your mind is so far away that his words just drift through your ears.
A hand around your throat snatches you back to real time. He’s pissed, biting his lip and trying not to spill his load before he’s ready.
“Answer me.”
This time you speak up immediately. “No one.”
“Hm. So you just do what you want?”
The sound of his deep voice mixed with the sound of your slapping skin and squelching juices turns you on beyond explanation. That familiar tension starts to build in the pit of your stomach, informing you of what’s soon to follow.
“I don’t like rules, Yoongi.”
“Oh, you will,” he promises.
Yoongi’s thrusts get stronger, making your body shift towards the top of the bed. He somehow keeps you in place using the hand he has wrapped around your neck, but you’re still being bounced around like a ragdoll.
“Since you don’t like it, I’ll finish up and leave.” His movements suddenly become faster, and it doesn’t take you long to figure out what he’s implying. “You can make yourself cum, right?”
“What?” you shriek. “No!”
His laughter resonates through your bedroom as he mocks your desperation. You try reaching between your legs, attempting to induce an orgasm yourself but he forbids.
“Uh-uh.”
He pushes your hand away and pins your wrist to the mattress, leaving you with no other resort.
“Yoongi, I wanna cum. Don’t be an asshole.”
“Better watch what comes out of your mouth then.”
You groan, realizing he’s too stubborn to give in. He’s not bluffing; he’d actually leave you stuck.
You can taste the pleasure on your tongue. You’re so close, but Yoongi’s thrusts are starting to become wild. If you don’t give him what he wants, you won’t get what you crave.
“Tell me now…” he grunts, lust oozing from his lips. He leans forward, pushing your leg to your chest as he tries to come closer. The coolness of his chains pressed against your feverish skin brings you a little relief, but it’s not nearly enough. “You sorry?”
Fuck.
“I am.”
He chuckles. “I know.”
Yoongi’s thumb then wipes the single tear rolling down your cheek. Your body’s restless and seeking some relief from all the tension building inside your core.
He finally slows down, pacing himself so he’s no longer ahead of you in the race to ecstasy. His finger gently tugs at your bottom lip, silently asking you to relax your jaw.
“You’re mine, right?”
You nod. “Yeah.”
“Good... Now open.”
Gauging your reaction, he smirks when you don’t oblige. You stick out your tongue, waiting for what you already expected.
Yoongi spits directly into your mouth, and you don’t even flinch. You look into his eyes as you close and swallow. He’s pleased when you reveal that nothing’s left when you open again.
“Good girl. Good fucking girl,” he moans, repositoning himself.
Whatever he says after that is lost between his swearing and muffled cries as he presses his lips against your leg. He slowly picks up his speed this time, allowing the heat to fill up inside of you before he drills you like before.
“Fuck, you feel so good.”
“You too, Yoongi.”
You’re desperate for more tension, but you’re afraid you’ll be punished if you chase it yourself.
“More, please.”
“More?”
“Please…”
“I got you,” he assures.
Without another word, his thumb finds your clit. His name rolls off your lips over and over, surely traveling far outside your bedroom. Your body tenses aside from your fist pounding the bed.
“Cumming!”
You can hardly breathe, air getting trapped in your lungs as his hips snap violently into yours. Your back arches as a wave of pleasure hits you like a ton of bricks. Your cries begin to fade away and all you can hear is your rapid heartbeat erupting through your ears.
Yoongi doesn’t let up, giving you his all until your body slowly falls back on you. He then pulls out and peels the condom off of his pulsing cock. As soon as it’s freed, he releases his hot seed onto your skin—painting your stomach and breasts white and sticky.
Both of you stay where you are, panting and struggling to catch your breaths.
You can see Yoongi through your heavy eyelids, slumped over and exhausted from everything he’s given in the past few minutes. His hair hangs over his eyes, but you know he’s just staring at your pussy, replaying everything that just happened in his mind.
“Yoongi?”
“Hm?” He snaps out of it at the sound of your voice, gently lowering your leg before he crawls toward you.
You feel like you’re melting when he kisses your lips. It's almost like a dream being this close to him again. Even after so long you remember the way he smells, the way he breathes… You remember everything like it was yesterday.
“You’re so perfect,” he whispers against your skin. lips make one final journey over your body, kissing every inch of you and not caring about the taste of his cum staining your flesh. He gives you endless compliments and praises, making you bury your face in your pillows. “I can’t forget to taste you.”
“Wait!” you gasp when he spreads your pussy and devours you.
Your sensitive clit throbs in his mouth as he slurps up all your juices. Your body is limp by the time he’s done, eyes nearly shut and your mind shut down for the rest of the night.
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he mumbles into the darkness.
Whatever he says next is a mystery because your tiredness ultimately puts you into a deep slumber.
“I’m so fucking stupid.”
You groan as the sun pierces your eyes. Throughout the craziness of last night, you forgot to bring your phone to bed with you. Now, you’ll have to walk and—
Or you can ask Yoongi.
With that in mind, you roll over and unfortunately find an empty bed.
Of course, he left last night. He was probably out of the door as soon as you shut your eyes. You can only hope it’s because he has work to do and he’s not avoiding you after everything you talked about. You won’t even let your mind go there.
Instead, you get out of bed and stumble to the living room—finding your phone on the coffee table right where you left it. You’re still getting notifications as you pick it up; most from Kaci, one from another employee, but nothing from Yoongi.
Before you make your daily morning phone call to your dad, you text back that server regarding time off, and see what Kaci’s fussing about.
6:58am Kaci: BITCH YOU’RE STILL AT HOME!?
7:10am Kaci: you so got fucked last night. i want all the detail STAT heaux
You roll your eyes. She won’t be getting anything other than the usual shoulder shrug. Last thing you need is for her to make a scene every time Yoongi’s in the room.
7:23am You: omw. please cover for me.
7:23am Kaci: already am. get some ‘good morning’ dick sis
“I swear I wanna kill this girl sometimes,” you sigh.
Before you can leave the messaging app, your phone rings. The number isn’t saved so you answer it with caution.
“Hello?”
It’s Yoongi.
“Hey, what’s up?”
You hope he doesn’t hear the puff of air you let out as relief washes over you. You were sure you’d lost him again after the things you did and said to each other during the heat of the moment. Not like you didn’t mean everything you said, but you aren’t sure if he did.
“Nothing, just late for work. What’s up with you?”
“Not much right now. I might go home and catch some sleep,” he replies. “Your car’s outside, by the way.”
“Really?” You walk over to the window and open the blind, shocked when you see your car parked in front of your house. “How did you…”
“I told them I was taking it as collateral.”
“What?!”
Yoongi laughs. “I’m kidding.”
If he was standing next to you, you’d punch him. You don’t know how you fall for it every single time.
“I have my ways. Just um… do me a favor?” he asks.
“Yeah, anything.”
“I think my phone’s somewhere in your house. Can you check later?”
You look around to see if maybe you can spot it but it’s nowhere in plain view.
“I know you’re already late so…”
“Oh, yeah. For sure,” you respond. “If you want, you can stop by and look. The spare key is in the same spot it’s always been.”
“It’s cool. I’ll wait until you’re off work.”
“That works.”
Both of you stay silent, waiting on the other to speak. You realize you should be getting ready for work so you decide to end the call.
“Well, I have to get ready so… I’ll text this number later?”
Yoongi clears his throat before he answers. “Yeah, it’s a burner but I’ll get the message.”
“Kay. Bye then.”
“Hey,” he calls out before you can hang up.
“Yeah?”
“Still mine?”
A smile grows on your face, and you don’t try to stop it. You didn’t want to bring it up, but you were definitely still thinking about last night, wondering what it would mean today.
But you can’t let him have what he wants so easily, can you?
“Maybe,” you tease.
There’s a pause, but when Yoongi does speak his tone grows dark.
“You still haven’t learned, have you?”
You smirk. “I suppose I haven’t.”
“Well, then. I guess I’m coming over later.”
Shit.
If you didn’t think the restaurant would burn to the ground without your presence, you’d tell him to get his ass over here now. The mere thought of a repeat of last night has you clenching your thighs together.
No working late tonight. You’re sure it’ll be slow anyway.
“I guess you are.”
“I’m not being nice this time either,” he warns.
You bite your lip, trying to conceal your excitement, but you’re really bursting at the seams. You’re sure you’ll be anticipating his visit all day, letting your mind flood with scenarios. You decide to go ahead and taunt him some more, adding fuel to the already roaring fire.
“Good. Neither am I.”
He begins to speak but you end the call before he can get it out.
As you stand in your living room giggling, a wave of nostalgia hits you. You remember he’d do the same to you after you’d complain about something silly. You’d be pissed, so the thought of him tasting his own medicine puts you in the lead on your imaginary scoreboard.
You’ve probably done a lot more that got on his nerves in the past, but who’s counting? It’s your job to push each other’s buttons and make up.
Isn’t that what friends are for?
hope everyone enjoyed !!! let me know what you think !
#yoongi x reader#yoongi fanfic#yoongi smut#bts x reader#bts fanfic#bts smut#bts fics#yoongi fics#yoongi imagines#bts imagines#min yoongi smut#min yoongi fanfic#aaagustd.fics
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the beginning
words: 1.4k
warnings: 18+ only, smut, pretty fluffy and cute tho, male masturbation, kinda creeping on reader by masturbating to pics of her?, p in v sex, brief male receiving handjob, unprotected sex, a bunch of different scenes with time gaps this isnt one continuous fic if that makes sense?
“your bikini is so cute.” you tell your friend, looking at your own swimsuit in the mirror.
“i have another one in a different color, you wanna borrow it?” julie offers.
“girl, yes!” you squeal as she digs through her closet before tossing the small material to you. you were invited on rafe camerons boat, and while you chose your best swimsuit, you just moved to the outer banks from new york city and don’t have a ton of options.
you put the swimsuit on before standing next to your friend. “we look good.” you nod.
“damn girl, the boys are gonna be all over you.”
“hopefully including rafe.” you say, a slight blush coming to your cheeks. it didn’t take you long to learn that rafe was the it boy of the outer banks, the kook prince, and that all the girls wanted him. you didn’t get the hype until you met him at a party and instantly became attracted.
“there’s no way he’s gonna be able to keep his eye of you.” julie encourages you, before glancing at her phone. “we better get going.”
you nod, looking one last time in the mirror before putting your coverup on and following julie out of her room.
--
“hey rafe.” you smile at him, letting him sling his arm around your shoulder. you’ve been flirting a lot, its how you got invited onto his boat along with a few other friends, but you haven’t progressed past just talking.
“hey.” rafe tugs you into him, making you press against his shirtless torso, in just his swim shorts. “wanna come up and drive with me?”
“yeah.” you nod, briefly looking to julie to make sure she was good, but she's already twirling her hair and batting her eyelashes at kelce.
you follow rafe up to the stairs to the second story of the yacht where the captains helm is. you sit next to him on the bench as he steers the boat out of the marina.
“this is a really nice boat.” you comment. “maybe you should give some advice to my parents on what to buy, my dad is looking but has no clue what is good.” you say without thinking, before cringing at your words, worrying rafe might mistake your small talk as wanting him to meet your parents.
“ah yeah, didn’t have much opportunities to own a yacht in new york, huh?” rafes says as his arms move the wheel, making your attention shift to his muscles.
“nope.” you shake your head. “but i’m glad we moved, i love the city but its really nice to be somewhere… calmer.”
“i’m glad you moved too.” rafe says with a smile, making you blush as you nod at him. you manage to make the small talk not overly awkward as he drives the boat out towards the ocean before finding a place to drop anchor and hang out for a bit.
“wanna swim?” rafe asks as you both head down the stairs, rejoining the group.
“yeah.” you nod, pulling your coverup off over your head. you toss it onto a soft before turning to rafe, who is staring down at your body, blatantly checking you out as he pulls his lower lip between his teeth.
he doesn’t snap out of it until topper claps him on the shoulder. “i got the ladder in for us, man.”
“yeah, yeah thanks.” rafe nods, eyes finally flicking up to meet yours.
“y/n! jump in with me!” julie calls.
“lets go?” you tilt your head, looking to rafe.
“wait before you jump in i want to get a picture of everyone.” rafe shouts out, pulling his phone out of his pocket and handing it to topper. “you'll take it?”
“yeah, sure.” topper says, looking at his friend a little strangely.
you all group together on the front deck, rafe moving so you’re in the center, his arm around your waist as you smile at the camera. you change your pose a couple times as topper continues to snap pictures, including turning towards rafe and placing your hand on his abs, still grinning as you pose.
rafe eyes up topper as he leans and picks you up, topper getting the message to record as you let out a shriek, wrapping your arms around rafes shoulder as he hurdles towards the water before jumping off the back deck, sending a spray of water as you let go of him and swim towards the surface.
you push the hair out of your face before sending a splash in rafes direction, scrunching your brows to show your anger at getting tossed in, but you can’t help the smile that stretches over your cheeks.
--
rafe gives you a tight hug, not caring that your hair is still wet and smelling of salt water. “i had fun today.”
“i did too.” you nod, getting on your tip toes to press your lips to his cheek.
“what are you doing tomorrow?” rafe questions.
“why, wanna take me on a date?” you ask, biting your lip as your eyes glance between his eyes and his lips.
“and what if i do?” rafe smirks.
“then i’m definitely free.”
“pick you up at 6:30 then.” rafe says, pulling you against him again before letting you go, watching you get into julies car.
--
“fuck.” rafe groans, hips thrusting forward as he fucks his fist, phone pulled open to the pictures he had topper took. he doesn’t give a shit about anyone else, he cropped everyone out but you, in your tiny lilac bikini.
rafe groans, wanting to squeeze his eyes shut as he squeezes the head of his dick, imagining it was you instead, either your mouth on him or you spread out below him, moaning as he fucks into your cunt.
rafe thinks about texting you, about begging you to come over, but he remembers your date tomorrow, knows what is going to happen after if things go well. he doesn’t want to seem too desperate, but you’re too pretty, too enticing as he swipes to the next photo, the photo of you turned to the side, hand on his bare abdomen.
he looks at the curve of your ass, the way the bikini hugs your hips. rafe strokes faster, imagining his hand making impact with your bum, watching the skin ripple.
“y/n.” rafe groans out your name as he cums, releasing over his stomach as he squeezes himself until he’s satisfied, smiling as he swipes again, this time to the video of him picking you up and running into the water.
--
“this is easily the best first date i’ve ever had.” you say as rafe drives you home. it was surprisingly simple, a picnic on the beach all set up by rafe, and then some live music on the pier.
“mine too.” rafe says, placing a cautious hand on your thigh, relieved when you smile at him.
“you know…” you begin as rafe pulls up to your door. “my parents are back in new york this weekend.”
“really?” rafe hums, bringing the car up the driveway.
“if you’d like to come in for some… tea.”
“tea, sure.” rafe nods, turning his truck off.
you move quickly inside. while you made up the tea excuse to get him in, you both know what the intentions are as rafe presses you against the wall of the entrance as soon as the door swings shut behind you, his lips meeting yours.
--
“good morning.” you mumble, turning over in rafes arms, both still naked from the night before.
“morning.” rafe says, his voice gruff from just waking. he moves a hand to your hair, brushing it out of your face. “you look beautiful.”
“not too bad yourself.” you smile, pressing your lips against rafes.
the kiss instantly wakes him up as his hand moves to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as he turns so he’s over top of your body, your hair flared out on the pillow.
you smirk into the kiss when you can feel rafe growing against your stomach. you reach down with one hand, grasping his shoulder to keep him close and kissing you with the other while you stroke his cock, getting it to full hardness quickly.
“when are your parents home?” rafe asks suddenly when he pulls away.
“um-” your brain briefly doesn’t work at the randomness of the question. “monday evening.”
“i say-” rafe says, reaching down and grasping his cock, pushing your hand out of the way as he rubs the head of his cock through your pussy. “we spent the entire weekend in bed then.”
you gasp as rafe thrusts into you, filling your cunt in one swoop. “sounds good to me.” you say, before pulling him back into a kiss.
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✸ 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔: satoru unexpectedly comes back home to his family after being gone on a week long business trip. .
word count. 1.6k +
tags. girl dad!gojo satoru x wife!female reader. fluff, tiny bits of angst, overall sfw. reader gets called 'mama; pretty, sweetheart, baby'. satoru being a good husband and dad. your daughter is around 2-3 years old.
the apartment is silent, something you aren’t used to. normally, you would not catch a break from the loud voices ringing in your ears twenty-four seven. it’d either be your husband’s or your daughter’s. or if they’ve teamed up to bother you, it’d be both. it’s been so long since the three of you were together. way too long.
satoru has been gone on this business trip for a week now. seven days without him is seven days without your other half. you feel empty for some reason, even if you have your lovely child who makes every day much better. you just can’t help but worry about your husband.
“mama, look!” your toddler calls out from the living room. you blink and find yourself back in the kitchen, instead of deep within your thoughts. you faintly smile at the adorable voice of your daughter. it reminds you that you’re not alone.
you walk into the living space and look around before spotting the toddler at the window walls. she’s pulled the curtains to the side so she could admire the scenery outside of your cozy apartment. you watch her excitedly jump up and down—like she’s discovered a big treasure.
“it’s raining!” she continues, running towards you and dragging you along to watch the raindrops fall onto the windows. you nod at her observation and pick her up. you kiss her cheek and gaze into her blue eyes, “yeah, it is! you’re such a smart girl.”
“yaayy! smart!” she giggles and nuzzles her cheek against yours. you wholeheartedly accept the affection with a warm laugh of your own. you both watch as it pours—from your perspective, the people below you look like small creatures, running around to get inside. you get lost in thought again at the sight.
you can’t help but wonder if it’s also raining where Satoru is. you hope he’s taken shelter by now, even though you know his infinity could easily block any rain from wetting his clothes. you don’t know what it is, but you’re undoubtedly worried sick about your husband whenever he is gone for too long.
“mama!” your toddler gasps and tugs at your clothes. your dissociating ends for a second because of the child in your arms. you absentmindedly hum and pat her back, letting her know that you’ve heard her. you’re too focused on your own thoughts and the gloomy scenery outside to hear anything else.
“mama! mama!” your daughter continues. this time, she kicks her legs, desperately seeking your attention. you kiss her cheek in response, still zoning out. she squeaks and giggles due to something. when she squirms too much in your embrace, you figure that it’s because she wants to be let down.
you crouch and allow your daughter back on her feet. you’re finally able to notice how she keeps staring at something behind you. she’s grinning from ear to ear, her tiny hand still tugging at your sleeve like she’s trying to notify you of something. her other hand points at the space behind you, “papa!”
you freeze. you don’t know whether you should turn around or not. is she joking around with you?
you tilt your head, patting your daughter’s head tenderly, her white hair as soft and fluffy as the one who’s she called out to, “papa? papa’s working, baby.”
a familiar chuckle softly reverberates through the room. one so smooth and nice to the ears; one that you immediately recognize as your lover’s. you nearly snap your neck by how fast you turn your head.
it must be a dream, you conclude. you can’t believe what you’re seeing. there he is, the man you’ve been praying to see. he stands there so casually, as if he’s planned this all, his hands in his pockets.
your husband smiles at you and your daughter. he’s more than happy to be back home as well.
“well, hello to you too, sweetheart,” satoru snickers, seeing your shocked expression. you’re frozen in place and have no clue how to react. you did not expect to see him any time soon nor did you even hear him come back in the first place.
“papa!” your daughter can’t hold her excitement anymore and jumps into her father’s arms. satoru happily accepts her hug and peppers her face with kisses, causing her to giggle uncontrollably.
he twirls her around before squeezing her tiny body to his chest, burying his nose into the crook of her neck. “mm. i missed you so much, baby girl. so so so much.”
you’re left somewhat processing the entire thing. you watch as satoru interacts with your toddler, tightly hugging her until she’s playfully whining about the lack of air.
he gives her a firm peck on her forehead and eventually puts her down, ruffling her hair affectionately, “you promised to be a good little girl for mama while i was gone, right?”
“yeah! been a rweaaally good girl f’ mama,” she nods repeatedly and clings onto satoru’s leg, awaiting praise for her good behavior. the white-haired man lets out a low chuckle and pinches her chubby cheeks in a gentle manner, “i knew my little girl wouldn’t let me down, heheh.”
you try to articulate some words, but nothing comes out. you take a step forward once you’re ready to face reality. your bottom lip trembles as the all the experienced emotions overwhelm you.
satoru instantly notices and smiles, opening his arms to welcome you into his embrace. which you immediately do.
“aww, there’s my pretty wife,” satoru sighs in relief, pleased to have the love of his life back in his strong arms. it’s like all the stress he’s felt throughout his seven-day long mission has evaporated. the same goes for the weary state his body was in before setting foot in your shared space.
the tears stream down your cheeks. they’re happy tears—tears of relief. all your worries are eliminated as your lover is now safe and sound before you.
satoru allows you to cry it out, not minding his clothes getting wet. your precious tears wetting his uniform is much better than the pouring rain doing so.
“it’s okay. ‘m here now,” satoru coos. he kisses the tip of your ear, moving down to your earlobe before showing your neck the same affection. his romantic touch is one you’ve missed greatly.
his big hands rub up and down your back, his lips trying to distract you from the tears. he moves to cup your face and leaves a warm kiss on your forehead, “you’re so precious. you did so well while i was gone, baby.”
satoru knows it must’ve been tough to take care of your daughter alone, whilst simultaneously taking care of all chores around the house. you’re the strongest woman he knows. his eyes sparkle with love as he wipes the tears from your cheeks, “there, there. .”
you sniff and cup satoru’s face this time, touching him like you’re making sure that he’s indeed real. You look around for any possible scratches but find none. luckily.
your voice is shaky as you speak up for the first time in a while, “welcome back, honey. i missed you s’much.”
your husband bites his lip at the sound of your voice cracks. your looks are captivating, even more when you’re so emotional. your beautiful eyes that glimmer with tears lure him in without fail. he’s longed for this. to see you and hold you again, without relying on some pictures on his phone.
he can’t hold back the urges within him any longer.
“c’mere,” satoru hisses, an unexpected switch in his tone. he suddenly pulls your body flush against his, his head lowering so his lips could crash down onto yours. your eyes widen at the abrupt gesture, but you quickly close them to fully enjoy the sensations. you hold him close to you while you return the kiss.
after a couple seconds, you both pull away, out of breath by the sudden moment of pure passion. the sorcerer grins and hugs you again. satoru rests his chin on top of your head and allows you to catch your breath, “i’m glad to be back.”
the soft pitter patter of the rain against the glass of the windows continues in the background. it’s a peaceful moment—two lovers reunited in their safe space. this is all you’ve wished for.
the sounds of wrappers falling to the floor and someone rummaging through plastic bags put an end to the sweet atmosphere between satoru and you. you both look to the side at the same time, only to find out that your daughter’s already been snacking on the goodies that satoru bought back from his trip.
the two of you burst out into laughter at the sight of the toddler munching on some chocolate, her cheeks as well as her hands being a complete mess. you were far too engrossed in your shared affection to notice that the little child has snuck off to inspect the bags on the coffee table.
“yummy!” your daughter exclaims once she notices that both her parents have caught her red handed. she reaches her arm out towards you, a half eaten piece of chocolate in her dirty little hand, “mama try.”
“no no, thank you. it’s all yours,” you giggle and shake your head. she’s too cute to scold and you can easily guess that satoru seems to agree with that statement. he walks over to the little girl and boops her nose lovingly.
“she’s got a sweet tooth jus’ like her papa, hm?” satoru comments light-heartedly. he grabs a nearby tissue and starts to clean the area around her cheeks, hoping to lessen the damage that’s already been done.
he truly missed this. the comfortable feeling of belonging somewhere.
“jus’ like papa!” your daughter innocently repeats after satoru as he cleans her up, causing the both of you to laugh again.
you’re happy to have your family back together.
#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#jjk fluff#gojo fluff#jjk x you#gojo x you#jjk x y/n#gojo x y/n#satoru x reader#gojo satoru x reader#female reader#jjk x female reader
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fever pitch
✩ mark x reader | pro baseball player!mark | fluff | smut | 8.4k
SUMMARY | your world is shaken up (literally) when you meet the handsome man guilty of the accidental baseball smack to your head. after a comforting meet-cute and realization that he’s the city’s ace pitcher, you two go on a date. and by the end of the night, mark thinks he’s falling for you faster than any pitch he’s thrown before.
WARNINGS | sexual content (near the end), arm riding (iykyk), breast/nipple play, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, piv sex, some drinking // this is 80% fluff-20% smut (with lots of corny writing); there's actually not too much baseball mentioned, but i did a little research on it; however, inaccuracies may be inevitable!
RATING | mature
AUTHOR'S NOTE | i am sorry this is so late </3 i hope y'all enjoy! please also check out (and maybe send in some prompts to) @nctpromptmeme!
TAGLIST | @curieouscapt @dearlyminhyung @infnteen
Under the warm, summer sun, you beam as you walk towards your close friend, Chenle, and his dog, Daegal.
Shining back, he nods in hello to you with sunglasses pressed against his face. The teacup Bichon by his side wags its tail and pants happily at the sight of you, but is easily distracted the next second due to the park’s stimulating surroundings.
Dogs running amok, families having picnics, kids chasing each other in circles, friends playing baseball—
Specifically, a group of absolutely stunning men playing, as if a model catalogue exploded onto the field across from you.
But one in particular catches your eye.
Kind eyes shine behind wire-framed glasses, paired with a wide smile. His soft hair bounces with his light jog across the area.
In his fitted white tee, he ends up in one spot and continuously throws the ball into his mitt. The game seems to be on hold as he speaks to a teammate. Absentmindedly, he rolls his arm sleeves up, revealing lean, yet defined muscles.
You silently gasp, struck by the beautiful sight, then gulp at the flexing of his biceps when he continues tossing the ball. His teammate must’ve told him a joke since the attractive figure throws his head back in joy.
And this is the exact moment you go into cardiac arrest because his laugh is the last straw of what you can handle from this man.
Suddenly, the sound of your name shakes you out of your daze and reminds you to breathe.
“Okay, which one of these guys is the one who made you do a full stop in the middle of the grass?” Chenle asks, coming up beside you.
Daegal welcomes you with loving rubs against your leg. You squat to pet her, but your eyes are still honed in on the handsome stranger. The teams seems to be switching now when someone hands the bespectacled man a bat.
Your friend tracks your line of sight and nods, impressed. “Okay, he’s cute. Your distractedness will be excused this time.”
Scoffing, you shove his leg lightly and he giggles in return. After a few more moments of gawking, Chenle wonders, “Why do I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere?”
Standing up, you reply, “Probably comes here often with his friends when you walk Daegal?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I feel like I know him from somewhere else...”
Deciding you should probably drag your attention away and not be a blatant creep, you begin to walk away backwards, heading towards the ice cream cart before the line-up becomes as long as the field.
“Want your usual?”
“Yes, please!”
However, Chenle’s brightness fades instantly, jaw falling and eyes widening. You’re about to turn around to see what caused his change of expression when you hear a piercing—
“WATCH OUT!”
With a throbbing in your head, you wake up, squinting at the blinding rays. Coming into view, the cute guy from before replaces the sun’s spot, staring down at you with concern written all over his face.
“Oh, my God,” he pants. His hands shake in front of him. “I am so, so, so, so sorry.”
You roll your eyes a bit, trying to center your vision. Groaning, you ask, “What happened?”
“I, uh...” The individual’s mouth, slightly open with gritted teeth, pulls to one side as he runs a hand through his hair, “may have batted the ball and it coincidentally went straight for your head.”
Carefully, he helps lift your upper body off the ground. He asks if you’re okay, and you nod. But a grimace comes after, causing the stranger’s frown to deepen.
“Maybe we should get you to the hospital. You might have a concussion.”
All of a sudden, he inches closer and gingerly runs his thumb over the source of the throbbing. It’s likely all in your mind, but you swear the pain lessens from his touch. You tilt your head further, angling into his palm and embracing the comforting gesture.
“I’ll obviously cover all the bills—”
You cut him off with a slow lift of your hand. “No. I’m okay, I’m okay.”
You know you’ll definitely be more than okay if you can steal some more time with his magical touch.
Continuing, you say, “And that’s too much. If anything, you can buy some ice cream for me and my friend.”
Glancing around for Chenle, you find him, crouching like the stranger, but a few feet away. With a raised corner of his mouth, you deduce he’s deliberately giving space for you to interact with Mr. Handsome Baseball Hitter.
Said handsome baseball hitter chuckles. Hearing it tugs at your chest, even harder now that you can experience it up close.
“I’ll buy you a thousand ice creams to make it up to you.” He retreats his hand and you don't hold back pouting from the fleeting contact you already miss. “But seriously, if there’s any long-term side effects, please reach out to me and I’ll pay for any expenses that come your way.”
“How would I know how to reach out to you?”
He rambles the following matter-of-factly, “Well, you can find my manager’s information online, there’s the team’s Twitter account”—he looks up cutely in thought—“and I guess I’ve been kinda active on Instagram—”
You tilt your head in confusion. What is this guy going on about?
“Okay,” you interrupt, “but who are you?”
His face flips through a few emotions in the span of seconds, but they’re unreadable. Finally landing on a grin, he says, “I think what’s more important is: do you know who you are?”
“Yeah, I’m—” And you properly introduce yourself.
“Good,” he says, “so we’re not dealing with amnesia.”
Your cheeks rise at his humour. Saying your name warmly, he adds, “Nice to meet you, I’m Mark.”
He lends out a hand for you to shake and you do so. With help from his knees, he rises upward, aiding you to stand on your feet in the process.
“Mark,” you repeat his name aloud, locking eyes with him, “the baseball batter with the strength of a thousand suns.”
At the odd line, you catch yourself, thinking how the injury must’ve loosened your filter. He laughs at the lengthy label. “You should see me pitch.”
You shake your head. “Nu-uh, nope,” you playfully say. “I’m going to be safe and stay far, far away from that sexy arm.”
Both you and Mark’s eyebrows rise at the remark.
Yep, definitely a loose filter. Maybe you really do have a concussion.
While Mark breaks out into a pleased smile, you snap your eyes shut, wanting to run away. Or disappear, if at all possible. “Strong, strong. I meant strong...”
Avoiding eye contact, you hurry and make way to a now standing Chenle. Trying to leave the embarrassment behind, you grumble, “Chenle, let’s get going.”
Your friend smirks and whispers by your side, “You sure you don’t want to dig your grave even further?” You attempt to elbow him, but he’s too quick and avoids it.
“It was nice meeting you, Mark,” you call out over your shoulder as you walk away. “Thanks for looking out for... my head?”
Cringe falls over, making you pick up your pace. Time to officially stop talking.
Chenle turns away, his body shaking as he releases a snicker into his fist.
“Again, I’m really, really sorry!” Mark apologizes in a shout. You can hear the sincerity in his voice, and also recognize his voice as the one who warned you to watch out before the incident occurred. “If you need to find me, I’ll be here over the next couple of weekends!”
When you’re far away enough from the scene of the crime, you smack Chenle in the arm. In response, Daegal chirps a bark at you. “You just had to watch me make a complete fool out of myself back there.”
He lovingly places an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into him. “I mean, Daegal’s great and all, but if anyone has any entertainment value out of the three of us here, it’s going to be you.”
You groan at his harsh, yet true, words.
“Your head good though?”
You note how the throbbing is barely there anymore. Touching the spot, you wince. At most, there’s likely just a bruise. “Yeah, it’s good.”
In a hopeful tone, Chenle sing-songs, “Think you wanna come to the park again with me next weekend?”
Reflecting on what Mark said, you ponder if he really meant it about coming to find him if anything was wrong. Even though everything would likely be fine, you’d love to see him again.
But how could you face him after the disaster of your mouth running free? You shake your head in defeat.
On Monday night, the next evening, your phone goes off right as you enter your apartment building. You drag your phone out, eyebrows furrowing at the notification that Chenle’s calling you. When was the last time he’s called you?
Actually, you’re fairly sure he’s never called you. Ever. You pick it up without hesitation.
“Hey, everything okay?”
“Find a TV playing the baseball game,” Chenle pants. “Right now.”
Out of all the things he could call you for, this is what he’s asking you to do? He’s not even into baseball; basketball is the sport he adores to death. “What?”
“Do it,” he orders. “Now!”
“Okay, okay.”
Thankful you haven’t gone up to your apartment yet, you stride over to the little in-house gym in your building near the front entrance. You haven’t used it much since you moved in, but you recall that the TVs usually play either sports or news.
And you remember right, except at the moment, the baseball game is the only event plastered on the screens. Most people in the room are fixated on the game while they’re doing their set or on their respective cardio machine.
“Okay...” you trail in uncertainty. A pitcher from your city’s team throws the ball and the batter misses. The camera cuts to the batter from the opposing team, shaking his head in disappointment. “Why must I need to watch the baseball game so ba—”
The camera’s now on Mark’s face.
The same Mark from the neighbourhood park yesterday, sans the glasses, and in proper baseball gear.
He’s on live, national television, playing baseball in front of the crowd of tens of thousands of people.
From a side angle, all eyes are on him as he tips his cap forward. His eyes mold into slits of concentration, his sharp jaw tightening after a lick of his lips. Sure, he’s different from yesterday’s care-free self, but you’d be lying if you said this serious side of him didn’t turn you on either.
Again, the camera cuts away, to the wide shot from behind him. Besides his great body (especially his gorgeous backside in those snug pants), you revel in the back of his white and dark green trimmed jersey, indicating his last name and his assigned number: Lee. 02.
He winds up for the pitch, raising his leg, and the ball is gone within a blink of an eye, landing directly into the catcher’s glove. The number 98 comes up near a rectangle on-screen, signifying the speed of his throw.
Mark wasn’t lying about his skills; he’s the pitcher with the strength of a thousand suns.
All the screens are filled with Player #02’s glimmer of a smirk, before he quickly stashes it away behind his cap. The camera lingers on him while the commentators in the background talk.
“A great put-out pitch for Lee,” one says. “His fastballs this season have been absolutely remarkable. Another great one from him.”
Cameras switch to another shot of Mark catching the ball, resetting once more for the next batter.
Another commentator supplements, “Aside from the slight hiccup earlier this season, he’s definitely on-track in making his mark on his debut in the league. A rookie ace indeed. It’s no wonder they’ve been calling him ‘The Tiger!’”
Understanding dawns upon you as to why he stated how easy it would be to contact him (and to be able to pay for any potential hospital bills). The city’s new star pitcher—how could you not know him?
“I knew he looked familiar!” Chenle pipes up from the other end, just as Mark’s nice figure takes up the screen once more. Awe and shock consume your voice, and you’re unable to create a coherent reply.
But you don’t need to, not when you have Chenle to talk your ear off about the game, but mostly Mark, for the rest of the night.
The week passes by, with you casually going through Mark’s Instagram (which, as he mentioned, he only occasionally posts on) and watching a few more of Mark’s games with Chenle in tow.
You fawn together over his plays (and his ass) and, despite not knowing much about the game, he must be having a great week from the commentators’ constant praises and the team’s overall wins.
Once Sunday finally arrives though, a wave of nervous anticipation rolls over you.
Because for you, it’s game time.
Sure, you may not have initially wanted to, but now that you know who Mark is, what is there to lose if you step up to the plate and see him again?
The scene of the park is quite similar to last week’s, except for the large presence of people staring at the men, many you recognize from the city’s team from all the games you’ve watched this week, playing baseball on the field. You wonder if you were too caught up with Mark last week because you didn’t notice how everyone else was this enraptured too.
As you stroll closer to the grassy area with Chenle and Daegal hovering behind, the players coincidentally take a breather. Some parents quickly take advantage of the break to bring their children up to receive autographs.
This is perfect timing for you too.
However, you stop in place, debating if this was a good idea to return. You’re surely going to make a fool out of yourself again (this time with no injury to blame) and Chenle, despite his promise of not interfering, will totally budge in and—
And it’s too late to backpedal, because Mark, although distracted by the little cluster of people surrounding him, lifts his head momentarily and his gaze lands directly on you.
Air seizes in your lungs when he flashes you a grin that could compete with the sun. He gives a small nod and wave. Like a star struck fangirl, you glance around to ensure he’s not gifting that nod and wave to anyone else.
But no, you’re not mistaken—his eyes are only on you.
Saying his thanks to his assumed fans, he jogs his way over to you, attired today in a fitted grey-mixed tee, ripped denim jeans, and thicker framed glasses compared to last time.
“Hey,” Mark says, still grinning beautifully. “How’s your head feeling?”
His smile is incredibly infectious. It’s a challenge not to do the same when you’re in the presence of this man. “Better. Had some bruising, but it’s all gone now.”
He nods in response, mumbling a “Good, good” under his breath. With his face turned away, he swipes some hair behind his ear and seems to be preparing himself to say something. But, you will yourself to address the elephant in the room first.
“So, why didn’t you tell me that you were in the major leagues?”
At the unexpected question, Mark darts his head up and draws it back in surprise, his lips pouting adorably. Your heart bursts.
Contrasting his cuteness, you notice the hint of stubble around his mouth. First the pout, now this. You’re captivated by it more than you should be.
He chuckles and lifts a shoulder. “Well, you didn’t ask.”
“I did,” you laugh. “I asked who you were!”
After looking up in thought for a moment, he concedes. “Okay, maybe you did.”
You two laugh in unison, and even when the moment is over, both of you stare into each other's eyes. Time’s filled with comfortable silence and equally comfortable smiles.
Mark breaks the silence, asking, “Are you still wanting to stay safe and far away from my sexy arm?”
“Oh, my God...” you groan, hating to hear the same words that left your mouth from last week.
“No,” he says through another burst of laughter, “it’s a genuine question.”
“I meant to say strong!” you argue petulantly. “I was just a little out of it from the hit, no thanks to you.”
“I know, I know,” he giggles. “I’m genuinely wondering though, cause...” Mark pauses and begins to fidget, this time rubbing the nape of his neck.
You tilt your head, intrigued. “Cause what?”
“Cause, I was, uh, wondering,” he says, eyes averting yours. “Since I owe you for your head injury—”
“You don’t owe me anything—”
“And I know it’s a long shot cause you’re absolutely gorgeous and you’re probably taken—”
This time, you draw your head back in surprise over the compliment and the grand assumption that you’re off the market.
“—but did you wanna go out with me sometime?” His hand moves through his hair before he shyly looks at you again. “Maybe?”
Before you can even process what's happening you hear a "Yes!" behind you, causing you to jolt upright. “Yes, she will absolutely go on a date with you!”
“Chenle!” you gasp, appalled but not surprised, in the direction of your close friend as he nears your side. You face Mark again and gesture in the direction of the incoming intruder. “Don’t mind him.”
As per his charming self, your friend holds out a hand. “Hi, I’m Chenle. Your newest number one fan. Great plays this week, by the way.”
“Mark.” He takes the hand to shake, giving him a small smile. “And thanks.”
Mark’s eyes wander down and notices the dog wagging its tail excitedly. His face lights up. “Aw, who’s this cute little guy?”
“Daegal,” Chenle answers. “She’s my little handful, besides this one.” he says, jerking his head in your direction. Mark's too focused on Daegal to see you slapping her owner in the arm.
Squatting down, he pets the lively dog. You follow suit and crouch down too, watching Daegal gift Mark tons of licks and enthusiastically rubs herself against his hands and arms. She’s never this delighted with strangers usually.
“What do you think, Daegal?” Mark asks, holding eye contact with her as if she could reply, then he glances over at you. “Do you think your friend should go out with me?”
Immediately, she barks happily, causing all three of you to laugh.
“Good girl,” Chenle whispers from above.
Although you pucker your lips playfully at Daegal’s betrayal, you reach out to pet her fondly along with Mark.
“But how will you guarantee my safety from your strong arm?” Your stare lingers on them. Not that he has to know, but you had to make a conscious effort to not say sexy once more.
“I promise I won’t be tossing any more of my balls in your direction,” Mark casually says.
After a pause, your eyebrows raise and his eyes widen.
“Wait, I mean—shit...” he hisses, closing his eyes and shaking his head. Your lips twitch, suppressing a laugh and finding him adorable.
“I know what you mean,” you quickly say, relieving him of his embarrassment.
He shyly glances up at you and you share a comforting look. Suddenly, someone from the field hollers his name. With a small frown, he begins to walk in reverse away from you.
“I probably should get back, but now that you know how to get in touch, message me on Instagram and we can figure out a time that works for our date?”
“Yes, definitely!”
Incredulously, you look up at Chenle for answering on your behalf.
“For sure, Mark,” you say. “Have a great game.” With the way he plays, you know he will.
Chenle and you wave your good-byes to him and watch him retreat to his friends.
“You do know that I'm the one he asked out, right?” you ask as the three of you begin to walk towards to the park's popular ice cream cart, except you're more vigilant this time.
Your friend grabs out cash, ready to pay for your order. Or at least you hope so, for all the trouble he caused.
“Yes, and that's why I will live vicariously through you!”
After messaging him over the last week (with Chenle hovering over your shoulder and backseat driving many of the messages), Thursday really couldn't come fast enough for your date with Mark.
As you step out of your apartment complex, your jaw drops and an impressed smile fills your face.
In a green bomber, black tee, and skinny jeans, Mark coolly pulls up on a red Ducati motorbike. You recall seeing a post or two on his Instagram with it, but it takes you by surprise to see it in-person.
He takes off his helmet and runs fingers through his hair, attempting to ruffle out the messiness. You're a little envious of how good he looks, even with messy hair.
Your date takes in your outfit—an off-the-shoulder floral dress that teeters the lines of being cute and sexy simultaneously—and beams.
“Wow,” he says, mouth agape. “You look gorgeous.”
“Thank you,” you say, then make an over-the-top attempt to check him out. “You don't look so bad yourself.”
After a moment of shared smiles, he tilts his head towards his mode of transportation. “Hope this isn't too daunting.”
You shake your head. “Not at all.”
As Mark helps you with your helmet, now that you're up-close, you notice he's clean-shaven, unlike the other times you've seen him, and you presume he opted for contacts for tonight.
You also can't help but relish in the proximity of his hands near your face, flashing previously to the first time you met only a couple of weeks ago.
Once he's done, you ready yourself for the ride by wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, holding onto him snugly.
He twists around with his visor open.
“Ready?”
You respond with a squeeze around his waist and a nod, so he closes his visor and you're off through the nightscape of the city.
Everything passes by in a blur, but when there are the occasional moments when he slows down or stops at the red lights, you drink in how beautiful your city is.
On the other hand, you're dying to know what Mark planned for tonight. He gave you a vague idea—dinner, a small post-dinner activity (no balls involved, Mark promised), and dessert—but that's all.
In a nicer part of the city, he stops and parks in front of a bumbling Italian restaurant.
Once inside, Mark gives his name to the greeter, stating how he has a reservation, and a sweet host immediately leads you to your table. As you walk through the restaurant, you admire its warm atmosphere with dim lights and candles spread everywhere, along with the many other couples eating their dinner.
The host stops in front of a secluded semi-circular plush booth. You shimmy in, and Mark follows. Both of you sit comfortably close near the middle of the booth.
Despite how much you have been talking through DMs over the last week, as first dates often go, conversation is awkward at first.
However, as dinner progresses and the extravagant wine (Mark insisted, “Only the best for my date, please.”) makes its way through your systems, it gets easier.
You learn more about his family, his team, and his love for reading. For him, he learns about your friends, your job vs. dreams constant conflict, and your love for music.
The easiness also goes beyond words. Underneath the table, your legs brush up against one another's. You throw your head back in laughter, and you bravely touch his forearm in response. Mark even leans in close to your body, sometimes the edge of your shoulders gently pressing into the other.
By the end of dinner, being the gentleman he is, Mark doesn't even let you glance at the check and pays it all without hesitation. Then, you're outside and on his motorbike again, off to the mysterious post-dinner activity.
When he reaches a particular end of town where there isn't much around except one place, you have an inkling where you're about to go.
Once you're there and parked, your hunch is answered correctly, but you realize something.
“Isn't the aquarium closed at this hour?”
He shrugs nonchalantly and begins to usher you forward with a hand lingering at your lower back. Whispering into your ear, he says, “I may have booked it privately for tonight.”
As you walk through, Mark and you stick to each other's side, shoulder to shoulder, and switch between revealing more about yourselves while reading and conversing about the informational signs on the aquatic creatures.
Both of you stop in front of the main showcase of the aquarium: the large tank that houses two beluga whales.
Mark leans in a bit closer to the tank, catches sight of one of them in a corner, and points it out to you. As he straightens, you feel the back of your hand brush up against his.
“You’re quite the romantic,” you state while glancing at the tank, almost as low as a whisper. Even with nobody around, there's something so serene about the aquarium that makes you want to be respectfully quiet. "Does everyone get this first-date, first-class experience from you?”
“Only the girls who get hit on the head by me,” he teases in a whisper, making you softly chuckle.
After a moment passes as you watch the tank, hoping and waiting for the beluga whales to move to where you're standing, Mark asks, “Would it be surprising to say I don’t go on dates as often as you think?”
Your eyes dart toward him, but you quickly keep your gaze fixated back on the tank. You nod. “A little.”
He hums, followed by a lengthy sigh. You can sense a shift in him. You hear how it's laced with sadness, maybe even a little regret.
“I’ve been working so hard to get to this point and of course being drafted’s been so worth it, but it also meant that I had to sacrifice some things along the way. But now that I’m finally here”—you feel his gaze now directed on you—“I definitely can rearrange my time for other things.”
Your breathing slows as you turn to face him.
Courageously, Mark intertwines his hand with yours and his free one raises, caressing the bare skin of your upper arm. The contact makes you gasp and hold your breath.
He drags himself forward, as do you, and his hand is about to cup your face...
Until the two belugas are now your front-row audience, glancing at you as if they were smiling.
You both chuckle softly and give them a wave, not wanting to lose this rare chance of seeing them this close.
And although the special moment has passed, you two finish off the marine life tour with your hand in his.
Once outside, Mark leads you somewhere nearby. After about ten minutes of walking, you're standing on a large cliff with a scenic view of the city. You've never seen the city from this height before, and all its twinkling lights and the starry sky beckon you.
An ice cream truck is also coincidentally there, and you assume Mark booked it for your date tonight.
You two grab your waffle cone orders and sit down on a wooden bench that overlooks the view.
“So,” you say, licking the cone on its side to avoid the ice cream from dripping down your hand, “does this go towards the debt of you hitting my head?”
“Of course,” he nods with his signature smile, doing the same as you and trying to avoid his sweet treat from melting. “It'll be one ice cream out of the many future thousands.”
The implication that there’ll be more than just this date hangs in the night air, almost as if it's a promise, and you really hope it'll be true.
At the very least, it feels true as you peer over your city, leaning your head onto Mark's shoulder while he casually drapes an arm around you.
Getting off the motorcycle, Mark walks you to the front door of your place and you don't even think twice about asking if he wants to come in. He says yes a little too enthusiastically, making you giggle, but it confirms that neither of you want the night to come to an end just yet.
Mark hangs his jacket as you grab beers from the fridge. Both of you make talk for some time on your couch, but the energy in the room is buzzing, especially since the almost-kiss.
The second you gravitate towards Mark, he rushes to wrap an arm around your waist and his free hand cups your face, dragging you in for the first kiss that's been itching to happen.
His lips are dangerously soft, addictive really. You swear he tastes like cherry (could be from the food earlier or maybe a lip balm flavour, you wonder).
It's a slow, yet deep, start. In the beginning, the kissing is with intent, wanting to know what each other tastes like. Naturally, the curiosity evolves into exploration, with Mark cautiously dipping his tongue into your mouth. You react with zeal, swiping your tongue against his and even experiment sucking on it. He shudders at the sensation.
Mark holds you close throughout, but your bodies move into a new position, letting you sink comfortably into your couch beneath him.
Here, passion rises. He grips your waist, whilst his body presses into yours, and he begins to trail down your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses. Although it's already off your shoulders, he drags a sleeve of your dress further down, hungry to kiss as much of your bare skin as he possibly can.
Your fingers tangle in his hair and you arch into him, embracing his clear desire against you. You're falling and falling and falling, becoming more drunk with every touch and kiss from Mark. Ever since the first day you met, you couldn't help but yearn for his touch. Now, having a taste of him like this, you're desperate to experience more.
Although you're underneath him, you decide to take hold of the kissing. When he takes a breather for an instant, you steal the chance and fervently kiss along his jaw and rugged neck. Mark moans, gripping your waist harder, and grinds into you, his hardness dying to be free.
Shockingly, he suddenly tears away, sitting up and panting. Confused, you mirror him.
“Should we stop?” he asks. “Like, I know I might be being presumptuous, but I don’t wanna ruin our potential next date if we rush too soon?”
It melts your heart that he retracted because he's concerned over your potential future. You delicately rearrange some of his loose hair stuck to his forehead. “If you want to stop, we can.”
He pouts, reminding you of him previously at the park, followed by a cute whimper.
“But I don’t want to stop...” he laugh-smiles, leaning into you, about to drive his mouth into yours again.
“Neither do I.”
And with that, Mark makes the split-second decision to continue this good thing and not look back. Once again, he's leaving love upon your shoulders, at a measured pace currently, and he carefully lowers your dress. Drooping off your shoulders, you let it drop and bunch around your stomach.
Surprise is written on his face, as you didn't wear a bra underneath your dress, but the surprise quickly dissipates into enthrallment over the beautiful sight.
He lowers himself, mouth traversing across your chest while his free hand gently massages one of your breasts. You succumb to the rising pleasure, curving into him again.
When he arrives at one tip of yours, he looks up and asks, his voice low and gravelly, “Can I...?”
You whimper-nod, already on the verge of begging him to take the next step.
It kills you that he teases first, merely pecking the surrounding area and your tip; his mouth leaving goosebumps in its wake. Your patience grows thin.
“Mark, please, just—”
Air is depleted as his tongue swipes against your nipple in a broad stroke. He then wraps his mouth around it, sucking firmly. The other hand that was kneading your other breast turns to focus on your nipple, pinching it between his index finger and thumb.
The more he sucks, the more you hear the wet puckering of his lips, the more it makes you clench tighter. Bliss begins to boil in your abdomen when he flicks his tongue and mimics the same on your other tit with the pad of his thumb.
Your breathing grows heavier, and you sense you're close, but Mark abruptly stops. You're about to speak up, believing he'd be the type to finish you off if you ask, until you realize he's kneeling on the floor in front of you and stripping off his t-shirt.
With your help, Mark eases your dress to the floor and places it safely on the coffee table. Focusing on you, his gaze is dripping of lust—so carnal, so different than his regular self.
As Mark advances to your heat, your palms graze over his defined shoulders and back. He parts your legs further with his hands wrapped around your inner thigh.
“Wearing panties?” he inquires, his finger pulling the fabric a bit to the side.
“Huh?”
“No bra, but panties?” he smirks, making you realize the joke.
You roll your eyes and relax momentarily, leaning your head back. “Are you into that? No panties underneath?”
“Could be hot,” he shrugs, tugging your underwear to your calves and tossing them off to the side.
“Maybe one date I can do th-ah—”
Without warning, he dives in, one his hands now grasping you by your lower back, and you lurch forward to get a good view of his head between your legs. You've got a grip on his shoulder, the other tugging at his hair.
His tongue laps at your folds with agility, figures out what you like or don't like. There isn't much you don't like, Mark deduces. Languid licks. Penetrating patterns. Fast flicks.
You respond eagerly to them all with harsh tugs to his hair, notably when he spreads your folds to devour you entirely. The hair pulling hurts a bit, but he doesn't mention anything; he likes it a little rough.
Despite the positive reactions, he can tell you've been at a simmer with his moves, not quite reaching close to a high. He withdraws his mouth, and, through your hazy vision, you catch sight of his honeyed lips.
But your eyes blow wide open and an acute moan dispels as your lover of the night fills you with his fingers, alongside his licking of your clit.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck—”
Following a few more minutes of scissoring and a few sucks to your bundle of nerves, he asks, breathing into your inner thigh, “Does this feel good, gorgeous?”
Your lip is drawn between your teeth, digging so hard from the pleasure you wonder if it'll bleed soon. “Mm-hmm.”
“Good,” he says, kissing your thigh tenderly, “'cause I'm gonna need you to remember how good tonight is so you'll keep coming back for more.”
Not gonna be a problem, you think, but all you could muster is senseless panting.
“You close?”
You can barely release a whimper out to respond, and Mark orders you to tell him when you're near.
It doesn't take long to get there. The warmth in your abdomen encapsulates your body and your hips rut upward frantically, desiring your climax to take authority.
“Mark, Mark, Mark. Fuck, I'm close, I'm—”
Immediately, he stands up, fingers still inside you and somehow impaling you further and faster while his thumb lazily strokes at your clit when possible, and his ardent kiss is the needed catalyst to take you over the brink. Simultaneously, the kiss swallows your bountiful whines.
When you finally come down from your high, you kiss him deeply and feel him through his jeans against you.
“Let's take this to the bedroom, I need to grab—”
“Should I run to the pharmacy to—?”
In tandem, you chuckle over how in sync you are, and tip your perspired foreheads against the other.
Holding his hand, you lead him to your bedroom. You turn on your bedside lamp and gesture to the tissues, so he can clean his hands. You then bound to your bedroom bathroom and fumble around to find your condom packs somewhere in a drawer.
Upon your return, you're graced with the sight of Mark sitting naked on the edge of your bed, stroking himself. You almost salivate.
God, he's bigger than you expected, and that's only one part of his magnificent body. You didn't have the opportunity before to admire his muscular abs, but you take every chance to do so now. The way his arm flexes with each stroke. And those thighs...
“Sorry,” he murmurs and shyly shrinks a bit, in contrast to his lewd action, “hope it's okay that I took my pants off already.”
He really is quite endearing. Maybe even a little perfect.
“There is absolutely nothing to apologize for, Mark.”
You place the condoms onto your bedside table, but are so absorbed with Mark's cock and existence. Entranced, it's your turn to drop to your knees.
Fingers wrap around his cock, and Mark's groans rise. You delve in your enthrallment for a bit, squeezing and stroking to your heart's content until you finally decide to ease him into your mouth.
Your tongue works wonders, tasting the underside of his length with every bob of your head. Meanwhile, his hands lazily thread through your hair and he watches attentively.
More saliva develops and drips, especially when you relax your mouth to let him hit the back of your throat. Obscene slurps accompany his delicate moans, both of which permeate the room in melodious unity.
As his threading develops into tight pulls of your hair, you detract yourself to avoid the night ending right then and there.
Since he's still sitting on the side of the bed, you sit onto his lap with a plan to abate and elongate the tension. You're back to kissing him, allowing both parties' hands to roam each other.
“I love your arms,” you mumble into his mouth as you reach for them.
“Yeah,” he chuckles, “I know you love my sexy arms.” You punch him teasingly.
But an idea flickers in your head. You halt your actions.
“This might be weird to ask, but could I...” you trail off, picking at your hands, realizing maybe you shouldn't finish your question.
“Hey,” he whispers, holding your chin in his hand. “You can ask me anything, beautiful.”
You hesitate with closed eyes.
“Could I... ride your arm?”
Peeking a nervous eye open, an evidently puzzled Mark stares back at you.
“I—What? Sure?” His voice raises in octaves.
Embarrassed, you try to wave it off. “Never mind that I asked.”
“No, hey,” he says, his palm caressing the side of your face and angling it towards him. “I'm flattered and obviously, nobody has ever asked to ride my arm before. But if you want to give it a go, by all means, I'm open to it.”
“Yeah?”
Mark gives you the sweetest smile and a reassuring nod. “Yeah.”
Since you suggested it, you lead him to lay on the bed, more in the centre so there'd be enough room for you to sit. He watches you gingerly lift his hand near head-level, as if he's almost flexing to show-off or about to lay his head on his palm.
Carefully, you sit onto his left arm, facing the direction of his body. At the contact, you shudder. “Is this okay?”
He agrees, enticed by your ass near his face and the general exquisiteness of your being. “You can put more weight on it, it's okay.”
You comply, relishing in the pressure of his arm against you. After becoming more comfortable and placing most of your weight to an arm on the bed, you slowly rub yourself upon his arm.
Mark's fascinated by this foreign act, eyes watching your every move. With his free hand, he touches himself.
His favourite part about you riding his arm? The look on your face—fluttering eyes paired with your lip biting—and the fact that you find him this attractive, that using him this way can simply get you off.
“This okay still?” you breathe.
“Fuck yeah.” He squeezes himself harder. He knows the answer to the next question, but he wants to hear it from you directly. “Does it feel good for you?”
You assent with a sharp moan. Without notice, you lick your palm with the intent of reaching over to grab his cock. At first, he's confused when he notices your hand, but he happily lets you handle him.
“Oh, God,” Mark pants.
You fasten your pace on his arm, grinding greedily against him. As you do so, your arm attempts to match the pace for his desire.
“Fuck,” Mark twists his head to look at your hips, tries to focus on how wet you are amidst his own pleasure, “you really do love my arms...”
It's a sweet dream for you—no, sweeter than any dream or fantasy could ever be. This is real, this spectacular sensation spreading all over and it's all thanks to his arm. Your body winds up, tighter and tighter, and you eventually break, chasing your second orgasm of the night.
Cleaning your mess up, you wipe his arm fast, keen on what's about to happen next. You then draw him into your mouth a bit to get him up again before rolling the condom onto him.
Once the rubber is on, you tease him from above, sliding the tip of his cock against your pulsing centre.
Mark may be a gentleman, but a gentleman can only be patient for so long. He seizes his possession and you gasp as he holds you by your hip, forcing you to sit down onto him.
The feeling is heavenly, stretching you sweetly. You bounce on his cock, and the sounds from you two are louder than from before. There's a small voice inside your head, worried about a noise complaint from your neighbours, but future you could deal with that.
Right now, it's all about Mark. He plays with your breasts with every move you make, while you fondle his abs and arms. Both of you try your best to look at one another through the pleasure, but it's difficult when you're floating higher and higher.
He then clasps your lower back and skillfully rises upward with the help of his strong abs. This position provides an angle for him to do all the work to thrust into you, as well as continuing to rub your breasts and even suck on them again.
At this point, you're in absolute state of frenzy, drowning in all the stimulation. Mark's underwater, right there with you too.
He pulls away in the midst of licking your nipple, his eyes going round. Nevertheless, you lean into him, your breasts pressed into his face and your mouth hangs.
Together, you cry each other's names and swear in endless spirals and the bliss finally reaches its peak for the evening.
As Mark lays next to you in your bed, observing your peaceful sleeping state, he's obviously amazed by tonight's events, but he’s also unsure what’s in-store for either of you.
There are so many factors at play with his career, you're both essentially still strangers, the future is unknown...
And yet, despite these worries, the feeling blooming in his chest is more than a blossoming liking. It’s akin to the moment he steps up to plate, either ready to bat or pitch. Nervousness, determination, and...
It’s too early to call it, but when he’s around you, he swears it feels a lot like his love for the game.
He shakes his head, not wanting to jump into the deep end this fast. He doesn't want to ruin this good thing prematurely.
Nevertheless, he places one last kiss atop your forehead before he sleeps, praying you'll be a new constant in his life, at least in the near future.
EPILOGUE — FOUR MONTHS LATER
Today is game four of the World Series and your city has won the previous three. If they continue their streak, tonight will be the night where Mark and his teammates take home the championship.
Hours prior to the big game, the teams are having batting practice beforehand to warm-up.
With your chin perched in your palm, you watch Mark closely—of course, safely from a distance and from behind him—and nod with every ball he hits well at the mound. You're seated in the lower area of the stadium among many of the other team members' families and friends, including a gleeful Chenle.
“Stop checking out your boyfriend's ass,” he orders, nudging you with his shoulder as he tosses a piece of popcorn into his mouth.
“You stop checking out my boyfriend's ass,” you retort, nudging him back.
The two of you continue your little nudging contest until he says, “So when you guys get married—”
“Oh, my God, Chenle...”
“I'm just saying, we all know you two are going to have beautiful little baseball player babies! Anyway, as I was saying, when you guys get married, can Daegal be the ringbearer somehow? She's pretty much the reason why you guys got together in the first place.”
You shake your head, eyes still on your love. “Chenle, we'll have that conversation when and if we get there.”
“When we'll get there,” he states confidently, and you laugh, dismissing him.
Sure, it may have been a fresh relationship only four months in, but you couldn't deny that maybe the idea of marriage wiggled its way through your mind here and there. Despite your thoughts, it wasn't at the forefront; you were happy in love with Mark now, here in the present.
Player #02 hands his bat over to another player and jogs towards you. It makes you wonder why he hasn't done an advertisement with slo-mo running and wind blowing through his hair yet.
“How’d I do?” Mark asks, leaning onto the railing next to you. Chenle gives him two thumbs up with a large grin.
“Awesome," you agree. "Did you think about hitting my head with each ball?”
Mark chuckles and juts his tongue to a side of his mouth. “You’re never going to let me live that down, huh?”
“Never,” you quip, scrunching your nose. You reach out for him and hold the tips of his fingers in yours. “You nervous?”
“Yeah,” he exhales, closing his eyes. “More than usual.”
Your fingers progress forward and your thumbs rub the back of his hands lovingly. “You’ll do amazing, like always.”
“You’re too sweet, babe. But this might be the game and I might—”
You cut him off by cupping his cheek in your palms.
“And you are the Mark ‘The Tiger’ Lee”—you tenderly swipe some of his hair away from his face—“top contender for both the Rookie of the Year and CY Young Award. So no matter what happens, you will come out on top.”
In awe and in a little disbelief with how well-put that was, he stares at you with starry, doe-like eyes. He's so grateful to have met you, to have someone so supportive of him in his life.
After a few moments, he concedes. “I had a pretty great run this season, haven’t I?”
You admire how humble your boyfriend always is. It's one of his greatest traits.
“And you have me,” you add jokingly.
He tilts his head side to side. “I guess there’s that too...”
The two of you share a kiss, innocent at first, until he deepens it and you wrap your arms around his neck, which generates some of his teammates to holler and whistle. Likewise, you hear Chenle screech, "Save it for after the win!" and you swear you feel some popcorn being thrown at your back.
Finally, until you're content, you peel away and press your forehead against his.
“Go get ‘em, Tiger,” you whisper.
Mark nods, a little more confident than before. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“So much,” he punctuates it with a loving squeeze to your shoulder.
You don't think you'll see him before the game starts, so you grant him one last good luck kiss.
You wouldn't know it that night, but by the end of the season, Mark would indeed take home the Rookie of the Year and the CY Young Award, being the youngest recipient of both awards.
That evening though, your city's team works in unbelievable harmony (or maybe the opposing team is having its worst day) because the game is a perfect one. Mark shuts out the other team, not allowing them to have any runs whatsoever...
Thus, sealing his first title of being a World Series champion.
But certainly not without his beloved running out into the field to give him a congratulatory hug and kiss among the sea of people.
And at the end of that night in the confines of your bedroom (after earth-shattering celebratory sex), you would find out that Chenle was right (and later, that he was in on it) when Mark, merely in his boxers, gets on one knee with a little opened box in front of you.
He's visibly shaking, and not because he's half-naked. You've never seen him so unnerved. Your love spills the following in almost one breath:
“I know we just started dating, and we can be engaged for, like, ten years or whatever. I just know that, deep down, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I may have felt this way since our first date. I really, really, really hope you feel the same, even if just a little bit."
Mark takes a deep breath, trying to regain composure for the important question he exhales.
Tears rise in your eyes as an ocean of feelings hit you, but within that ocean, no doubts rise to the surface whatsoever.
All you think about is how you will be forever grateful for the baseball that hit your head on that life-changing day.
You immediately say yes.
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“. . do you . . know what happens after death, sweetheart?”
the words that slipped out of nanami’s lips struck you right in the very depths of your heart.
it stung—a sharp prod that made the very crevices of your mouth twitch. his hands, his once warm and loving hands started to grow abnormally cold. frigid to where you even started to adapt to his chilled temperature.
“no why….” you started, feeling your throat tighten. “why are you asking me that, kento?” you sniffle, tightly interlocking your fingers with his.
he stares at you with a warm smile spreading across his lips.
regardless of his current position, peacefully resting his back against the ground—his inevitable fate had finally caught up to him.
nanami’s breathing patterns changed significantly. everything was so loud, all he could make out through his peripherals was splotches of blur and your pretty worried face. “. . because,” he continues, and his speech was so slow. you could tell he was trying to get every word out, every syllable, every vowel. just for you and only you. “i’m about to find out, my love . .”
your irises focused on him. nothing else, no one else—just him.
you’ve never seen him like this. so pale, so weak, so . . . scared.
his pure emotion, it showed in his eyes. his perfect brown eyes that you never failed to get lost in. for the first time in what was probably forever, nanami felt…scared. he tried his best to conceal it in front of you though. but even his best wasn’t enough, because you probably knew him better than you knew yourself.
“don’t say things like that, kento,” you mutter, already feeling that annoying plump knot rise up in your throat. your breath was shaky, tremble after tremble. “you’re fine. you can get up. we can get up.”
he knew when you said we, you implied that you’d both be walking away together — hand in hand, like in those stupid cheesy movies you’d watch with him every sunday after he gets off work. but alas, reality was quite harsh to face. an even more incredible tough pill to swallow. nanami knew he wasn’t going anywhere.
it was irksome, you had to squeeze your eyes shut to prevent a single tear to roll down your cheek.
nanami’s eyelids were hanging on by a thread, just barely open. he was trying—trying so hard to hang on, a small pout curls against his lips before he huffs out a single breath.
“ah . . forgive me, you’re right,” he says, his thumb swiftly stroking the front of your hand. a single tear escapes past your lower damp eyelid. even his voice sounded different. a voice you grew to love, so sweet and protective. it now sounded incredibly tired. you could hear a slight wheeze between breaths of his. “hey, don’t cry. don’t do that, look at me.”
his voice was so soft, you sniffled—despising the irritating tears that started to run down both sides of your temples. if it was anything nanami couldn’t stand, it was that he couldn’t stand to see the love of his life shed such sweet pitiful tears for him.
you looked at him, watching his eyelids struggle to stay open for you. everything ached, his body didn’t even feel like his own anymore. it was an indescribable feeling from when he got struck, laying against the slick cold floor of the shibuya train station.
“. . d-don’t leave me,” was all you managed to say, your lips was trembling, your heart pounded and you didn’t wanna say goodbye just yet. “kento, i need you.”
“hm? what are you mumblin’ about, sweetheart? ‘m right here.” his voice, it sounded happier.
you furrowed your eyebrows, now finding yourself buried into nanami’s bare chest, damp chin pressing against his pecs and all.
you were here safe and sound, snuggled up all against him, as you should be. it took you a long while to calm down, he’s staring at you with a soft loving gaze—a brief look of concern before you mumble out a, “..kento? are you okay?”
“why wouldn’t i be, baby?” nanami hums, a soft thumb stroking your back. with a relaxed breath, he leans in to plant a gentle kiss near the very tip of your forehead. his touch was forevermore soothing, a touch you never wanted to forget.
you let off a jittery sigh of relief, finally coming to the conclusion that it was another one of your horrid nightmares. you had nothing to worry about.
he was fine.
you were fine,
everything was fine.
. . is what you kept telling yourself.
nanami never told you those words, he didn’t kiss the tip of your forehead or stroke your back lovingly whilst staring into your eyes. the only true unbearable truth was that nanami was gone.
he was gone, and his last words weren’t even “i love you,” or “i’m sorry.” on his fatal dying breaths, nanami’s last words to you while squeezing your hand, sliding a ring into your palm, he rasps out a breathy, “will . . you marry me?”
but before you could tell him yes, he was already gone.
#★vegasbaby.#nanami x reader#nanami kento x reader#nanami x you#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk angst#jujutsu kaisen angst#jjk fic#jjk drabbles
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