content warning: only a smidge suggestive if you squint, major fluff, dad!jack abbot, mentions of pregnancy & children, marriage, no use of y/n
word count: 750+ words
pairing: jack abbot x black!fem reader
summary: jack abbot is an ultimate sap for his woman
THERE’S no doubt that Jack Abbot would be utterly obsessed and head over heels for his wife.
It’s Mr. Jack “let me ask/check with my wife” Abbot.
The glow that brought color and warmth into his cheeks was impeccable when she walked through the room.
It got to the point where her vanilla scent would infuse into the fabric of his work clothes but he didn’t care. He didn’t care when he clocked into work and his co-workers could automatically clock it was him entering from the scent that lingered behind.
He was open to shake a head at pda at work, but he couldn’t help to wrap his arms around her waist, burying his head in the crook of her neck and giving her a lazy string of kisses. beyond the walls of their shared workspace, he’d have no shame in a light bump of her hip or quick squeeze of her bottom. He’d worship her body like it was a religion; his fingers running across her dark skin as if it was almost made of pearls; the softness that rounded out beneath her thighs and sweet pudge of her stomach. He loved her breast, wanting to constantly lay his head on them during the evening or even. He thought they sat perfectly decorating her chest. He always offered to lather lotion on them always making her laugh.
He’d sometimes just watch her as she did her lengthy wash days, soon joining the routine as he helped her. Often joining her in the shower (for her sake and of course his own appeasement).
He loved feeling the bed dip beside him, watching her as she lathered lotion all over body. It was her own sacred ritual — a connection of being so in tune with her body.
For the first time in his life, shopping trips became bearable, at least with her they made it all the worthwhile. Something to look forward to. Even when she would spend well over twenty minutes trying to pick between two dresses that were two similar colors of white, Abbot would take his time with her, attempting to give his hand in scattered fashion knowledge and claimed “Everything looks good on you no matter what you wear.”
Jack had no problem with running down to the beauty supply store for whatever specific conditioner or shampoo she needed (of course with her being on FaceTime with him, guiding him through the store from the other side of the store).
He loved her hair most of all (if he could say that). The coils and curls framed around her face like it was her halo. Her hair walked with her as moved. He honestly wouldn’t be able to choose his favorite style since be cherished all them and couldn’t help but he excited when she came back from her hair appointments with a new hairdo.
If they had children, specifically if they had girls, he would do so much research regarding doing their hair. As he improved, he would attempt to do different styles per day before they headed off to school.
He’d let his girls paint his nails, even if he had work later that evening. He’d be proud to show off their hard work (even if the sticky nail polish had gone over his nail bed).
Jack Abbot loved himself a cookout — during the early stages of their relationship, Jack would always question when the next cookout would happen as he was excited to meet her family. When he finally got the opportunity to go to one, he was beyond ecstatic. For the opportunity of meeting his sweet girl’s family, but getting to indulge in delicious food, good music, the dancing, everything. In was in those moments he loved watching her the most. Getting to see his woman be in her element, seeing her flourish in the sun like she was drinking it up and it highlighted and hydrated her skin, churned out gold in her eyes. She looked at ease. Softer at the glance. Softer to the touch. The glimmer on her ring finger made it all worth it.
He liked the way the sun perfectly illuminated her eyes, lashes fluttering against her cheeks.
If he ever got her pregnant, he loved to watch her body grow, seeing motherhood grow upon her hips, thighs, and chest. He couldn’t keep his hands off her growing belly, even before she began showing. His heart would grow along with her softness that grew on her body.
Even if they didn’t have children, he’d spend the majority of his paychecks on covering her nails, a new hairstyle, or even on a new car she’d been eyeing for some time.
All in all, he’s a huge sap for his wife and he won’t be sorry about it.
He’s never ever heard of that word associated with him in his life.
Probably.
Did he get you pregnant on purpose? Not this time. The man was eager to fuck, 7 months out of divorce, he’d been fooling around with you for a month or so. You were more than ten years younger than him, hot and ready on a silver platter, nice, had that sweet look in your eyes that John couldnt get enough of— not a chance he’d ignore your advances.
Everything was fine and dandy till you stopped taking his calls. Then his texts. You aren’t answering the door to your flat. Not posting on social media anymore. He doesn’t investigate.
Well, not for the first couple of months.
See the man doesn’t take too well with being left in the dirt, doesn’t not do relationships either.
Not after you so shyly asked if he could stay a little longer after your first one night stand. Not after he basked in your afterglow. Ever so tempting, got mystified in every inch of you, from you’re pretty face, every messy curl on your head, your breasts, to your stomach, your thighs your heat between them— that voice that was purring his ear about how thankful you were that he stayed because you’d never in your life been screwed like that.
“M sorry, that was too much.”
“No,” his hand caresses your face, “that was just enough. Ta dove.”
He intended on finding a spot into your life.
So when he finally sees you passing the street, curls high and out of your face, round stomach peaking out of the off shoulder cropped sweater you’re wearing, breast starting to get larger and swollen, a certain glow about you in the flowing beige skirt you wore— he knew for a fact the baby growing inside your womb was his and you would be his for the rest of your lives.
You didn’t know it yet, didn’t know it until he popped up at your new place with your favorite cake from your favorite bakery in hand. Cupped your face and murmured, ‘Was worried about you dovie.’ And your stupid heart fluttered.
Baby Daddy!Price is a good soon to be father, he joins you at the appointment and the baby classes, so adamant about you eating healthy but also helping you eat what you and the baby want. Rubs your feet and your shoulders, may or may not have given your cunt half of his manhood when you were desperate to cum, buys everything the baby may need and even curses out some family members because you wanted the baby shower to be small and intimate, not some big bash where everyone but you is drinking.
But the man doesn’t persuade you to move, you are, in fact, moving. Got you a bigger house so you could even have your own room (you weren’t redy to get back together yet), claims it’s all for the baby. The baby needs the family to be together. The baby needs to see his parents on good terms, the baby needs to be close to his grandparents, the baby likes his voice and his touch so John needs to keep his hands on you in some shape or form.
Lies.
But he’s tame for you. The old man adores you, loves the joy and experience you’re giving him that no one else on the planet has given him. And he’s sharing this experience with you. It can’t get any more perfect than that, can it?
It’s when you’re on the phone with your friends John may or may not block after he hears them trying to get you back into the dating feild.
Why would you need to date anyone else but Price? Who else would marry you when you’re already dependent on him, John may or may not have lead to a few men getting in an accident before your planned dates. No deaths, nothing serious (thankfully).
But it has you worried, completely oblivious to the fact that John’s physically blocking any potential prospects from coming your way, maybe you’re not pretty enough anymore. Maybe they don’t actually find you interesting.
Pure Blasphemy leaving your mouth. Sexiest thing on the planet, and he reminds you. Fucks you right against the mirror so you can see him splitting you open, how beautiful you look all disheveled. John holds your legs wide and your back to him. Can see the exact way heis cock is filling you to the brim, Sledgehammering into your slippery walls that’s gushing either way your mixed fluids, his pre weeping into your needy cunt, threatening to get you pregnant.
“Would look even prettier with a rock on y’ finger birdie, mm- have you all stuffed full ‘f me with a rock on your hand. ‘S what you need.”
And your pussy’s trembling, gasping for air into your lungs because you can imagine the sensation. John used to cum in you all the time when he found out you were on the pill, how warm it felt inside you, makes your mind swirl and put the balls of your feet right in the dovey of his back as he could be deeper, till it was dripping out of you’re hole and your body was limp, and he’d dip his tongue in to plug it up. Smear his tongue all against your sensitive clit and suck your cum up. But you got pregnant, came to your senses that even with the pill, you could end up in the same situation—
“You can’t-“ you’re keening, head rolling back on his hairy shoulder, grabbing at his calloused hands to put you down but he only fucks more of himself inside you, faster— harder— “Oh fuck John- nngh!” He’s doing it on purpose, widened mushroom tip knocking right against your cervix.
You can feel him smirking the way his beard prickles against your skin, sucking a love bite onto you, the bastard, “I can’t what honey?”
“You can’t cum inside- you can’t!” You’re shaking your head but your cunt is gripping him tighter with every rough thrust. His breeder balls are slapping against your cunt with every sloppy roll of his hips, lucky he pulls out just as your walls start to spasm. His cum dripping to the floor as he holds you so close. He lets you down to your feet and hold you close, humping against as you both come down from your highs, his hands squeezing your tits.
He lowly groans, flushed forehead pressing against your messy curls, “Fuck, but you’d look so good pregnant again dove.”
You got lucky.
Lucky you didn’t get pregnant but there was a scare. Almost as if your body had been achin for it, for this man and only man to knock you up right after fucking you silly.
“‘S a shame.” He exhaled his cigar when you give him the news.
You’re more than relieved, and John understands that. You’re still young. You’d atleast want some of your life to yourself before having anymore kids. You make your way over to him, falling into his arms on the lawn chair. You wrap your arms around him first for once, because at the very least you know he’s safe. This is home. You mumble into his neck, “Maybe when the baby turns four or five we could—“
“—Whatever you want sweetheart, God it’s whatever you want.” He hums, pressing his lips against your temple. Hand running up and down your back as he presses you into him.
You’d definitely be married by the end of the year.
꒰ঌ ໒꒱. thinking about stack being a side nigga to a fine ass cougar. he the type of side dude that 100% knows his place. whoever your husband is, he honestly doesn’t care as long as he has his time with you. he would believe the lies or possible truths you tell him about plans to leave your husband.
꒰ঌ ໒꒱. elias would be the shoulder your can cry on about your marriage. “an-and he just doesn’t understand ‘lias it’s like he doesn’t hear a word i say”, you sobbed in his arms, hiccuping. stack sighed though his nose, pressing his lips together and caressing your face, “you’re okay baby, hear me? ‘m here.”
꒰ঌ ໒꒱. thinking about how elias may know you’re married to another man, but he’s the only one that owns that pussy. stack was slow stroking your pussy in missionary, ankles pushed behind your head as your phone began to ring. “eliasss stop, he’s calling”, you slurred out while trying to reach for your phone. stack smirked, dick pulsing at the thought that formed in his head. “answer for me baby. make sure you be quiet too.” as he began to circle your clit with the thick pads of fingers.
꒰ঌ ໒꒱. elias can be manipulative in yall situation sometimes. if he’s missing you real bad, he’ll blow your phone up not caring if you’re with your husband. he’ll leave a voicemail, “come see me pretty mama. i miss you, you miss daddy? i know you do.” he’ll also tell you anything you want to hear, to make you more reliant on him. you’ll tell him how your husband is going through your phone, suspecting something. and elias talmat, “why he going through your phone? he miserable. not like you doin nothin’ wrong baby.”
꒰ঌ ໒꒱. stack wants you to eventually get caught up so he can have you to himself. in the beginning he didn’t care and it was just fun. but now? he’s leaving lil shit at your house that you have to lie on the spot to your husband about.
꒰ঌ ໒꒱. he loves taking pictures and videos of yall having sex. “come on mama, open them legs up—let the camera see my nut all over that pretty pussy.” also his screen saver is you bent over in red panties with his tattooed hand grabbing your ass.
🐆 sev’s comments ┆whew idk how i came up with this, i got to the mic im like press record ah ah ah! im drop kicking my husband to be with dada. also splash of older!reader — i be tired of young ho fics sometimes.
request. frat!rafe who, despite all odds & stereotypes is ... surprisingly a good boyfriend?
from what you heard of kie, sarah & cleo, you were pretty hesitant to get yourself in a relationship, more less with practically the king of frats: rafe cameron. the frats had already got themselves a notorious relationship for being wild, and it wasn't exactly what you were looking for right now. your girls have the most awful stories of what topper, pope, jj have all done, even to each other.
the first time you went to a party with rafe, with his arm around your waist, you were counting the minutes when it would slide down and he would go off on his own, presumably to drink or even to join topper.
"why you lookin' at me like that?" he asked, brow raised, as you kept glancing back at him every minute or so.
"are you not gonna go off to topper?"
"is topper my girlfriend?" he retorted back as he kissed your forehead gently. "no, he's not. "came here with you, so i'm stayin' with you. don't question it, baby."
you kissed him on the cheek, warmth spreading through your gut but honestly, you thought that wouldn't last. and yet faithfully, the entire night, was rafe by your side. even when you got a bit too tipsy, he wasn't even mad at you. "you not mad?" you asked as he carried you bridal-style to the car.
"you can do whatever the hell you want, baby, you don't gotta restrict yourself for me." is all he replied as he set you carefully in the passenger's seat and put your seat belt across your body.
when you cry, rafe actually knows how to comfort you. surprising, really, since the story of when kie told you jj laughed at her before realising she was actually upset and had to comfort her even more. rafe, on the other hand, doesn't do anything extra: all he does is lift you up and rest you in his lap while rubbing circles over your back, "it's okay baby, breathe." most of the time he won't know what your situation is until after and often he just lets you cry it out.
frat!rafe who does truly does love his frat brothers but couldn't care less about what they think about your relationship. if one of them even mentions half of your name, he's listening. if they make a joke about you or any of your friends, he's across the room in an instant. it doesn't really matter to him, anyways. he knows you're his forever.
“if i put my hand down your panties am i gonna find you soaked?”
“what the fuck is wrong with you?” you whisper yell at brendon, as if anyone can hear inside the room you’re currently standing in. “you can’t say things like that when we’re at work.”
“yeah?” he stalks towards you, like a cat eyeing up its prey. “you didn’t deny it. tell me about how wet you got watching me lay into whitaker back there.”
your entire body feels warm underneath his gaze, “park.”
“no,” the tone he uses on you makes you flush. “come on, princess.”
“daddy, please not now.”
brendon ignores your pleas and slips his hand into your scrubs. as soon as his fingers find your sopping cunt, he laughs. the bastard fucking laughs.
“poor baby,” he circles your clit and you press your face into his shoulder both out of embarrassment and arousal at his casual dominance. “just needed daddy to play with her pretty pussy, huh? she’s weeping for me, angel. how long have you been like this? you know all you have to do is ask.”
you whine when he presses a finger into your entrance, and he shushes you gently.
“you need to be quiet, princess,” he reprimands. “can’t have the whole hospital knowing how good daddy’s making you feel.”
he adds another finger into your heat and you clutch onto him for dear life, a broken moan falling from your lips that’s quickly muffled by his skin.
“so worked up,” that filthy mouth of his continues. “was this morning not enough for you? couldn’t just have my mouth, had to have my fingers too? should i add another, sweetheart? think you can take three?”
you nod and as soon as he adds the third finger, you clench around him. he swallows your moans with his mouth, tongue finding yours as he finger fucks you in the ED, where anyone can walk in and find brendon park with his hand down your pants.
“you’re dripping all over my hand, baby,” he groans into your mouth, the sound of your wetness filling the room. “you gonna be a good girl and come for me?”
“daddy, fuck,” your eyes roll into the back of your head. “i’m gonna come.”
“that’s my girl. look so pretty. come on, angel. come all over my fingers.” as soon as his thumb circles your clit, you come with a cry against his shoulder.
summary: wherein you don't know how to say no, but luckily, your husband and your twin boys are more than willing to help you out. and they won't hold back.
tw: mentions of violence
you have never been too fond of confrontation. since you were a child, your parents taught you how you should never complain or show dissatisfaction in front of other people.
you remembered how, not long after you and rafe moved to your new house, a sweet old lady who lived across the street, offered you a piece of her handmade pie and even though you were allergic to apples, you didn't have the heart to turn her down. at first you wanted to politely decline her offer but her hopeful eyes and the shaking hands holding the plate, saddened you.
she probably spent her entire evening baking it, you couldn't refuse, right?
nonetheless to say, rafe rushed you to the hospital as soon as he came home from work.
"sweetheart?" you heard the door of the living room shut loudly and rafe calling for you, from where you were sitting on the bathroom floor.
"what's wrong? what happened?" his voice was laced with alarm. you felt itchy and your head was spinning, making you unable to stutter a single word.
rafe knelt beside you, and his hand touched your forehead. it was only then that he noticed little red spots across your skin "your face is—" he mumbled, his jaw clenching. "what did you eat?"
your mind quickly made up a lie, you were about to reassure him, to say it was nothing, it was probably due to the stress of moving to a new town. but the look on his face stopped you. rafe could barely contain his panic. his trembling hands reached for your wrist to check your pulse.
"apple pie," you whispered, your voice came out weaker than you wanted.
everything went still.
rafe's face was drained of color. you peeked at him through your eyelashes, attempting to read his reaction.
"you're allergic to apples," he stated, as a matter of fact, his voice eerily calm. "so, why the hell did you eat it?"
he quickly pulled you up from the ground and with quick, heavy steps he carried you to his car, while cursing under his breath. the closest hospital was distant half an hour.
you flinched at the sharpness in his tone. "a neighbor gave it to me, she was trying to be nice, as a welcoming gift. i didn't expect to—"
"what on earth were you thinking!" he gritted his teeth, trying not to lose his temper, one hand running through his hair. "something worse could have happened to you!"
you had never seen him like this. not when your oldest son james broke his arm, not when the youngest colin fell down the bunkbed in his sleep. rafe was always able to maintain his composure, but not this time. the hands on the steering wheel hadn't stopped trembling since you left the house.
rafe drove like a possessed man, continuously glancing over at you, and looking for potential new symptoms.
only after reaching the emergency room and letting you under the care of the medical staff, did rafe calm down.
you remembered how after coming out of the examination room, you found rafe with his head hung low, bloodshot eyes, walking back and forth with his hands clenched in fists.
you've never seen that type of terror in his eyes. needless to say rafe didn't catch a glimpse of sleep that night, constantly monitoring your movements and your painful moans, ready to grab the keys placed on his night table.
-
you were now sitting in a coffee shop, with your sons, waiting for your husband to arrive. he got off work half an hour earlier but his office wasn't particularly close to where you lived.
"colin, james! stop fighting!" you scolded them as they began ripping apart their shared menu. colin immediately stopped "we're sorry, mommy." he whispered, elbowing his brother.
your conversation was interrupted when the waiter approached your table with your beverages. two orange juice and a bottle of water. you glanced back and forth. you believe you asked for a small oat milk latte.
"excuse me, sir?" you mumbled, trying to explain the inconvenience but the annoyed look on the employee's face only made you stutter more.
you offered him an unsure smile, since you didn' want to cause a scene, and ended up thanked him.
"hey!" james stood up from his seat, glaring at the guy. "my mommy is lactose intolerant," his voice laced with the kind of authority uncommon to kids his age. "she can't have normal milk. it makes her sick."
the barista, taken aback from james' reaction, looked down at the cup, then back at you. "ma'am, is this-"
"it's not fine, mommy." colin's hand found yours, squeezing gently. "dad said you can't have this."
the barista looked at james, then at you, then at the small crowd that had gathered. he was young, probably a college student, and clearly not prepared for a confrontation with two determined seven-year-olds.
"ahem," he cleared his throat, reaching for the cup that colin was clutching. "sorry about that. i must have grabbed the wrong—"
james, with an mocking smile, said "it says oat milk on the front. you can't miss it."
the barista blinked. "right. yeah. i'll, uh, i'll make sure to get it correct this time."
nonetheless to say, your husband rafe was very pleased to hear how your twins spoke up for their mom when he wasn't present.
"good boys." he ruffled their messy hair "you earned yourselves a treat!"
-
your neighbor john was overwhelmingly friendly.
it had started innocently enough. a wave over the fence. short conversations about the weather. but then, he began showing up at your door, expecting you to invite him in. he would sit for hours on your porch waiting for you to get home. but only when you were alone.
"i'll talk to him," rafe affirmed with firmness as you revealed to him your neighbor's strange behavior.
"no, no, it's fine. he's just lonely. i don't want to hurt his feelings."
rafe had given you that look. the one that said you're doing it again. but he'd dropped it, because he knew you weren't ready.
today, as you checked the mail, john appeared in front of you, making you jump out of fear.
you looked around trying to find an excuse "john, i'm sorry, i really need to go now..."
"oh, this'll only take a minute." he interrupted you, grabbing your arm. "i have some leftovers from yesterday's thanksgiving dinner, would you like to have some? you know, it feels lonely to eat alon-"
the front door swung open.
colin and james rushed to your side, their faces grim.
"why are you touching my mom?" james asked, his voice flat. but john only snickered, tightening his grip.
"oh" john affirmed. "i was just telling your mother about my le—"
"she needs to come inside," colin interrupted. "dinner's ready."
rafe stepped out. he was on the porch in three strides, his face twisted in rage. he didn't speak. he just moved—fast, relentless, terrifying—and suddenly john's hand was gone from your arm, and his body was stumbling backward, crashing into his own fence.
"what the fuck do you think you're doing? uh?" rafe's voice was low and threatening "if you dont move out of this neighborhood in three days, i'll make you eat your fucking hands. you understand?" he whispered in his ear.
"if you dare to touch my wife again, if i catch you looking at her, daydreaming of her, i'll gauge out your eyes and throw you in the sea." rafe patted his shoulder "did i make myself clear?"
john scrambled to his feet and fled into his house, slamming the door behind him. the following morning ,his house was put up for sale.
if someone had told you a year ago that you’d be standing on the balcony of a parisian hotel overlooking the eiffel tower in jack abbot’s arms, you’d have laughed in their face. but here you are, wrapped in your attending turned boyfriend’s embrace as you watch the eiffel tower glisten in the distance.
jack’s lips find your neck and you smile, relaxing in his comforting hold, “happy one year, baby.”
“you know, six months of that year were spent sneaking around.” you point out matter-of-factly, which makes jack chuckle against your skin, the warm sound vibrating against your shoulder.
“seems like i have a lot of showing you off in public to make up for it,” he responds, hands following the curve of your hips in the dress you’re wearing. “and in a dress like this? you make it easy.”
“you flatter me.” you say just as he kisses you, the taste of the cigarette he smoked earlier and champagne the two of you have been drinking on his tongue.
“come on,” he takes your hand and guides you back into the expensive hotel room. “we’re gonna be late for our reservation.”
jack playfully taps your ass as the two of you leave the room, giggling like a bunch of teenagers.
“you’re sleepy. go to sleep,” jack chuckles fondly, propped up on an elbow as you lie underneath him, your fingers fiddling with his black sleep shirt.
you pout. “‘m not. lemme keep talking.”
you’ve been saying anything and everything for the last half hour, trying to stay awake with him. he’s used to staying up past four in the morning (well past), you just wanted to do it with him. but you’ve been fighting sleep for an hour, now. cycling between rambling, at some point singing, and letting your eyes flutter shut, telling him “‘m not sleeping, ‘m resting my eyes,” while he stays quiet for the next minute or so, before you’re jolting yourself awake to repeat the cycle.
he smiles, shaking his head. “don’t be stubborn.” he watches your eyes go half-lidded. “tch. there it is, see? go to sleep.”
you let out a drowsy whine, kicking your foot for added effect. “‘m wide awake. lemme tell you about… about…” jack counts about five seconds of silence in his head. “what was i talking about?”
“jess.”
“mm. jess.” you mumble, not fighting him off when he starts tracing little shapes with his finger along your bone structure. a grumble leaves you. “that’s cheating.”
he smiles, affectionate. whipped, even. “y’can tell me about jess tomorrow, sweetheart,” he murmurs, the deep rumble of his voice pushing you into an even deeper relaxation. “just close your eyes ‘n sleep. i’ll be right here.”
just to be a little shit, you wink one eye open. he laughs again, presses his thumb a little firmer against your forehead in a half-reprimand. “go to sleep,” he says with finality. he doesn’t get another response from you as your eyes flutter shut and you go loose in his arms, his thumb tracing along your cheek, finally asleep.
as you drape the blanket over the half asleep peter currently on your couch, what he says in his drunken state makes your heart clench, “i just wish she loved me back.”
“i know, honey,” you stroke his hair back from his forehead. “get some sleep.”
you tiptoe into the kitchen to find frank sitting at your table, a lukewarm cup of coffee in front of him. he gives you a tired smile, one that’s reserved just for you, “thanks for letting him crash here. i didn’t know where else to take him.”
“both of you are always welcome here, you know that,” you wrap your dressing gown around yourself as you begin to make your own coffee. “he’s still devastated about mj, huh?”
“yeah,” frank runs a tired hand down his face. “she has a boyfriend.”
you hum sadly, stirring your coffee gently, “well, so did i.”
you look over at frank, and he chuckles softly, “i forget. there wasn’t much competition.”
you playfully roll your eyes and kiss the top of his head as you walk past to the empty seat at the table.
“i’ve been thinking,” you start shyly. “maybe you should move in.”
frank looks at you in surprise from over the top of his mug.
“i know you like the nomad life, but i’ve at least got a working shower here. and we see each other all the time anyway, you’re here most nights. i got this cut for you. it’s okay if you aren’t ready but i wanted you to know that i would love your company permanently.”
you slide the key over to frank, who has an expression on his face that you can’t read.
“frank?” you ask softly, dread seeping into your bones. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to—“
⊹ ˖ Ი𐑼 naming your pet bunny after your mean husband, ryomen sukuna! — ✦⋆🐇.˚
content: modern day sukuna, fluff, he’s a grump (but what’s new)
w/c: 800 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯
“…what is that?”
you look up to see your husband stood in the bedroom doorway, a displeased look on his face and his harsh eyes narrowed on you — or rather, on the animal in your lap.
“oh! ryo, you’re back already!” you smile, perking up a little from where you’re sat on the edge of the bed. “just in time, too, i wanted to get you both acquainted!”
you nod your head towards the chubby white bunny sat on your lap and watch as it sniffs and paws at your legs lazily, its tail twitching with each movement. gently, you put your hands under its soft belly and lift it so that you can properly show your husband.
“ryo, meet ryomen. and ryomen, meet my husband!"
you hear a humorless scoff as sukuna inspects the bunny from where he’s stood, distaste written all over his harsh features.
“you bought a rabbit." he deadpans, evidently unimpressed based on his cold tone. "and you named it...after me?"
“well yeah! it was between that or killer-bunny!” you explain cheerfully.
“…why would it be between that and killer-bunny?”
“because he has red eyes, silly — see? just like the one in minecraft!” you hold ryomen-bunny up higher so that his fuzzy face is now pressed against your cheek as you stare determinedly at your husband. you can feel his whiskers skim across your cheek every time he turns his head, and his soft ears are still perked up slightly at the new surroundings. sukuna sighs, his own deep red eyes resting upon the chunky creature in your hands.
“i’d much rather it be called killer bunny than be named after me.” he retorts.
“oh, don’t worry!” you pull bunnykuna back against your chest, stroking the space in between his ears fondly before continuing brightly. “i liked that option too, so i made it his middle name! his full name is ryomen killer-bunny sukuna!"
sukuna's jaw clenches slightly. “you can’t be serious— what kind of a name is that for a rabbit? there’s nothing even remotely threatening about it.”
“you can’t keep calling our new family member an ‘it’, ryo!” you scold, causing your husband to raise a brow at the defensiveness in your voice. upon staring at you for a few seconds and realizing that you're unfortunately serious about the matter, he exhales frustratedly, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“we’re not keeping it.”
“what?” you gasp, scandalized. “ryo, don’t be like that! little ryomen-bunny wouldn’t hurt a fly!” you frown at your husand's decisive tone, studying his displeased expression as he meets your gaze once more.
“that’s the problem.” he mutters. “the thing’s weak, so i see no reason for you to have named it after me. i’m nothing like it."
you glance at the chubby ball of fur in your arms, and then at your husband with his displeased expression, his cynical gaze fixed upon you.
“..i don’t see what you’re talking about, ryo. he’s like a mini copy of you.” you reply solemnly, to which he groans.
lowering your gaze back to your lap, you pet little ryomen with fondness, your hand skimming over the fluff of his snowy-white fur.
“..please can we keep him?” you plead, glancing back up at sukuna and batting your eyelashes exaggeratedly. and unfortunately for sukuna, he must be absolutely whipped past the point of common sense, because he begrudgingly finds himself giving in.
“…fine.”
you cheer, jumping off of the bed with ryomen-bunny cradled in your left arm, your right one extended to hug your husband excitedly. sighing, he returns the hug with a reluctant look on his face, experimentally offering a half-hearted stroke to mini-ryomen’s head. sukuna's eyes drop to rest on the creature's wide red eyes, a single brow raised and his mouth parted slightly like he’s debating something. much to his own regret, he begrudgingly finds himself musing that its eyes indeed do look similar in color to his own — though he refuses to admit that to you, of course.
you lean further into sukuna’s embrace, voice soft as you speak into his shoulder.
“…this is nice. i love you, ryomen.”
your husband’s free hand strokes the back of your hair absentmindedly as he watches the bunny prop its front paws up against your shoulder.
“yeah, yeah. love you too, brat.” he mutters the name under his breath, though there’s no real malice in his voice. you pause and glance up at him.
“oh, i actually meant ryomen killer-bunny…but yeah, i love you as well, ryo!”
the rabbit may have to leave the house much sooner than expected, sukuna thinks to himself.
a/n: kind of a filler post !! ryo vs ryomen who do we think is winning (jk the answer is obvious because bunnykuna is actually john rabbit in disguise)
Song Inspo: Beetlejuice x Mariah the Scientist (I loveeee this song pls listen)
Author’s Note: Gworlllsss this is my first sinner's fanfic, I hope y'all love it 😝😫💗 Everybody voted smut on the poll so I tried to do fluff, smut, and angst in one to please everybody, luv u 😚 p.s. very lightly proof read, sorry for any mistakes in advance 😬
Late night had settled over Elias’s condo. Leon Thomas drifted from the speakers, lulling the room into a comfortable silence. Dim purple lighting washed over your soft brown skin, making it that much more alluring.
Somewhere nearby, a window was left cracked open and a gentle breeze blew through the curtains across your damp skin, raising goose bumps that sent chills over your body. The air carried the rich, woodsy scent of Elias’s cologne mixed with cooling sweat and the intimate evidence of what you two had been doing for hours.
Stack shifted so that he was between your legs again. His warm, bare chest rested against yours as his eyes wandered over your features, hands on either side of your head. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, your jaw, down your throat. It had only been 15 minutes, and he was already ready for more of you.
“One more baby? Lemme have you again.” His southern drawl came out sweet and enticing. You traced your fingers down his spine as he continued placing tantalizing kisses across your exposed flesh.
“What we doin’ Stack?”
He hummed against your skin in confusion, never stopping his torrent of kisses.
“I’m spending more nights at your place now than my own and we been doin’ this for a hot minute now. We spend most of our time together anyway.”
Stack made his way back to your lips now, leaving a soft one at the corner of your mouth.
“What you gettin’ at, sweetness?” He pulled away to look at you fully now.
“I just mean… is this all? We just gon’ keep hookin’ up and calling each other friends even though we both know it’s more?”
He held your gaze but his expression was unchanged.
“You know you special to me. Ain’t nobody else got me like this.” His hands were roaming your thighs and hips now. His kisses made their way down your tummy, ending with a lingering one above your navel. “We know what it is, why we gotta go and complicate it?”
Before you could answer, the conversation died how it always did. With him between your legs and you too lost in pleasure to continue pressing. But truth be told, you were tired of being his favorite option instead of the only one.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
By the time the weekend came you’d made your decision. You had spent enough time waiting around on Elias to finally claim you. Your mama taught you at a young age that you should never beg a man for anything. What one won’t do, another will. And it was for this reason that you finally said yes to Malik’s offer to take you out for dinner and drinks. He worked in the building next to you and had been chasing you for a while now. You had turned him down more than a few times hoping that Stack would finally put a label on things. But after your previous conversation with him, it was clear that wasn’t happening any time soon. So, today when Malik asked what you were doing that night while y’all ate lunch together, you told him the truth.
Nothing special.
You made your way to your car after work and settled your belongings in the passenger seat. Like clockwork, your phone lit up with a photo of Elias as it began to ring. You stared at the screen for a moment before opting out of answering. Friday nights had been you and Stack’s thing for months now. You would pick the take-out and he’d pick it up after work along with a bottle—or two— of wine for your movie night. It had become so routine that he never even considered you wouldn’t be attending.
By the time you got home your phone was ringing again. With a deep sigh, you answered this time.
“You a hard lady to get a hold of. Y’know, I was startin’ to think you were avoidin’ me.” He chuckled to himself. He was currently at the liquor store perusing different kinds of wine, hoping to find something you guys hadn’t tried before. “What you in the mood for tonight? White or red?”
You fidgeted with the sleeve of your shirt uncomfortably as you thought about how to respond. You didn’t necessarily want to lie to him, but you sure as hell weren’t gonna tell him the truth either. Your answer landed somewhere in the middle of those two options.
“I actually got plans tonight. Some of my girls wanna check out this new spot downtown.” Biting down on your lip nervously, you waited for his response. The other end of the line went so silent you almost thought he hung up.
“Stack?”
Stack was stunned silent. He couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t spent a Friday night with you. Even if you didn’t come to his place, usually he would just come to yours. The sudden change in routine made him deeply uncomfortable. But alas, he reluctantly quipped,
“Since when you busy on Friday’s? You seein’ somebody else or somethin’?” He was teasing but when you didn’t laugh, he leaned in closer. The silence was not comforting.
“Since tonight. My girls wanna see me, and it’s been a minute since I’ve been out.” You replied simply, suddenly growing irritated that he was prompting you to explain yourself. Stack swallowed and shifted awkwardly on his feet, nodding as if you could see him. He wanted to continue pressing the topic, ask the specific name of this new spot that was more interesting than him or his club. But his pride got the best of him.
“Aight…ladies’ night. Handle your business then, baby girl. Don’t have too much fun without me. Let me know when you make it in the house safe.”
You promised you would before quickly ending the call. The refusal did not sit well with Stack. He had recovered smoothly from your rejection in the moment, but now that the call was over, he was stuck staring at the same bottle of Moscato he had been holding for the past five minutes. It wasn’t like you to say no to him.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
As much as he hated to admit it, Stack didn’t really have back up plans. He always reserved Friday nights for you no matter who else he was seeing. He sat on his couch for a while, sipping the wine he’d picked for the two of you earlier. He scrolled through his recent messages debating who he should hit up, if anyone. Honestly, his roster had been thinning out the more attached he became to you. They just weren’t like you. They didn’t laugh like you or smell like you, and the more time he spent with you the more intoxicating your presence became to him.
Truth be told, he was disappointed. Stack kept a line up. There was no shortage of women in his life— he could have anyone he wanted within a single text or call. But you were his favorite. There wasn’t anyone else he wanted to lay up with and kiss on but you. With other women, he usually just skipped to the main event. Minimal foreplay, surface level conversation. Nothing like what he had with you.
Stack’s train of thought was interrupted by his phone ringing. He snatched it from the cushion next to him, nearly dropping it as he tried to answer. A disappointed groan made its way from his mouth when he realized it was just one of his homeboys. Not you. He’d never admit it, but he was hoping that maybe you would change your mind and decide to stay in with him after all— even though he’d never ask.
“Yo” He answered boredly.
“Aye, Stack. What you on tonight? Lil’ Ms. Fine as hell over there?”
Stack chuckled and shook his head. It was no secret that you were the finest woman on his roster, and again, his absolute favorite. You were the only woman he had a silent claim over.
“Naw, she’s with her girls. Said somethin’ about a new spot openin’ up downtown, I don’t know.” he felt his annoyance bubbling to the surface again as he reiterated your words. He had no right to feel possessive over your time, but he couldn’t help it.
“Yeah we gon’ head over there too. You tryna pop out?”
Stack fixed his mouth to say no. He was aware that it was probably clingy to follow you to the exact place you told him you would be—on the one night you’d taken space from him. Still, the idea that he could feign bumping into you, and that maybe through a turn of events you would end up ending the night with him after all, got the best of him. And there was still something ugly and jealous tugging at him about the way you never answered when he asked if there was someone else.
“Yeah I’ll meet y’all over there. Gimme like 45.” He ended the call with his homeboy and went straight to his closet.
Girls night, huh? He tutted to himself as he scanned his clothing, looking for something to wear. Unfortunately for you, he was about to crash your party.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Any time Elias Moore stepped into the building, he was the main attraction. The SmokeStack twins were known by people clear across the Mississipi delta— and in other places too. Tall tales and fables alike had been whispered through the grapevine for years now. Stories about men who’d encountered the twins but never lived to tell the tale. Gossip about the havoc they wreaked in Chicago prior to returning to their little hometown… mysteriously, with enough money to open a club of their own.
Stack didn’t do lines. Upon arriving to the club, hushed whispers and watchful eyes oriented toward him immediately. There was a confident swagger in his walk as he headed straight to the front of the line, like he always did. He slipped a crisp $50 bill to the bouncer out of respect before dapping him up. Then, he made his way inside. No fuss, no muss.
Vibrant neon lighting flashed across the club, highlighting its lively crowd. Music thumped through the floors and radiated into Stack’s chest. The crowd parted instinctively for him as he found his way through the room. Women stared lustfully, admiring his confident walk and the million-dollar smile he’d flash if you were lucky enough. Stack was fly, it was no secret. He only wore the best and he was always iced out.
“How you doin’, daddy?” a tall, slim woman cooed as Stack brushed past her. His gaze raked over her, and he nodded in acknowledgement as he made his way into his section. If he wasn’t VIP, he wasn’t attending.
“Stacks-A-Billion! You made it. My nigga finally got from up under that girl and graced us with his presence.” Donte clapped Stack on his back and pulled him into a brotherly hug. The other men at the table did the same, greeting him one by one like he was a don.
The night was smooth at first. Real smooth. Stack was in the middle of chopping it up with one of his old flings who he’d cut loose when his eyes caught a familiar face. There you were. He froze completely as he took you in.
You were wearing all black. Leather shorts that sat on your hips low and hugged them just right and a lace-up sleeveless biker top. Black heels adorned your feet, and you were wearing your signature gold jewelry. The corner of his lips twitched upward into a smile involuntarily and he licked them as he took in your appearance.
However, the smile quickly dropped from his face when he realized that your girlfriends were nowhere to be found. Instead— you were with some tall guy. Stack looked hard and long to ensure he wasn’t imagining things.
Nope. No girlfriends. This was definitely a date.
Immediately, Stack tuned out the woman that had been talking to him. The music in the club dulled to a thumping pulse, and suddenly he had tunnel vision. He couldn’t help the possessive ugly feeling that arose deep in his chest as he watched the man’s hand brush the small of your back when he leaned in to whisper something to you.
You didn’t see him for several minutes. But when you did— your eyes locked with his. You were caught. Completely and totally caught red-handed in the act. Stack stayed where he was, but he held the piercing stare long enough that you wished you could disappear. Then, he turned back to his boys as if nothing had happened.
It stayed like that for a short while. Stack kept mingling, talking to people who approached him. He managed to make it through half of another drink before he became so consumed with a silent possessive rage that he turned from his boys mid-conversation and headed straight over to you. The crowd parted for him like the red sea.
“ ’Scuse me patna, I need to talk to her for a second.”
Malik looked startled, he hadn’t seen him approach. He looked like he wanted to say no, looking between the two of you as the tension rose. Apparently, he waited two seconds too long, because Stack increased his proximity to the man with one large step, a cold stare closed the rest of the distance between them.
“I ain’t askin’, I’m tellin’ you. Don’t get hurt boy.” He snarked; tone laced with southern venom. And with that, Malik scrammed.
Stack grabbed your bicep, gentle enough not to hurt you— but with enough force that you knew now was not the time to test him. He guided you to the backdoor of the club and slammed it open. The cold air kissed your hot skin and instinctively made you flinch.
“Let go of me, Elias” you snapped, snatching your arm away once it was just the two of you. He turned toward you with a look that made it hard to pinpoint his emotions.
“Who the fuck is that?” He snapped back. You looked away towards the busy street and crossed your arms defensively. The distant sound of impatient drivers filled the silence.
“A friend.”
He sucked his teeth and responded, “Don’t gimme that shit girl, a friend? I just watched how that nigga was lookin’ at you, and it ain’t nothin’ holy or friendship-like on his mind.” Stack was trying to remain as calm as he could given the situation.
“We grabbed food and decided to stop by for a drink, that’s all” you sighed. You rubbed your temples out of frustration. Why the hell was he even here? Stack’s eyebrows lifted at your confession. He stepped closer and cocked his head to the side.
“Fuck you mean y’all just had dinner? That’s what we doin’ now? You goin’ on two-part dates with random niggas?” Now his voice was starting to raise. He looked away in an effort to find his composure, but he felt his heart beating fast with panic. This was the second part of the date?
“I’m not your girlfriend, Elias! I can see who I want, why do you care anyway.” Your voice rang out sharp and shrill against the brick walls of the alley.
Instantly, his head snapped back towards you. He stepped closer. One step, then another, until your back was against the cold brick wall behind you. One of his palms came up beside your head and he leaned in close enough that you could tell what liquor he’d been sipping on. His eyes flicked from your eyes down to your lips, and back again. Almost like he was trying to make sure they were the same as they were the last time he’d tasted them— untouched by anyone else.
“If you ain’t mine…why you lyin’ to me ‘bout who you with, baby?”
And for that, you did not have an answer. You simply looked at him blankly. After a long hard stare, you scoffed and pushed him by his chest away from you, refusing to give him an answer that he already had. You turned around to make your way back inside to find your date. He was probably scared shitless.
“Tell ol’ boy don’t get caught alone in no dark alleys.” Stack’s voice rang out sharp from the alley as you walked away. You rolled your eyes hard.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
A week went by after your encounter with Stack at the club. You’d sent texts, called a few times. He was radio silent. He had stopped randomly popping up at your place with tokens of his affection, and he hadn’t made any attempts to reach out to you himself. Your last text which read, “How long are you gonna do this? Say something” had been delivered nearly 12 hours earlier and he still hadn’t responded.
You were in the middle of sulking and smashing a bag of hot Cheetos when your phone pinged. A soft gasp escaped you and you quickly picked it up.
Lias ❤️🔥: You ain’t mine right? Lose my number.
Your heart sank as you re-read the message. So he gets to keep a revolving door of women, but you go on one date now you’re the bad guy? Furiously, you typed out your next response. Your jaw dropped when you pressed send and the message went green.
He blocked me you gasped to yourself.
A few hours went by, and it never came. You kept waiting for it— a slick little follow up, the way he always did when he knew he had gone just a little too far. The response sat final in the text thread. You stared at it until your screen went black. You guys had fights in the past but never like this. Stack had never shut the door completely before, really he had never fully opened it either. But this time felt different.
Fine.
From that moment, it was on. You started answering Malik’s calls on the second ring, you let him take you out to dinner, and when he asked you if he could see you two nights in a row you said yes. One night, he kissed you outside the restaurant after the date. He waited to see if you’d pull away, instead you leaned in deeper. The kiss felt nothing like Stack’s. But the attention was real and constant, and it was better than the half-ass relationship Stack had been giving you.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Four days. That’s how long Stack lasted before he tried to fill the void you left behind.
The woman’s name was Tasha, she was real thick and real bold too. He met her at his club, she was staring him down like she heard all the rumors about him and wanted to know if they were true. This night, she’d been looking extra hard, and Stack was always aware of watchful eyes.
He took her back to his place with full intent on giving her what she was looking for. Another easy and forgettable night with a face he probably wouldn’t remember in a few months unless they gave him a reason to.
The night started off easy enough once they made it back to his place. Tasha started kissing on him while he was preparing drinks, talking about all the things she wanted to do to him. Her perfume was too sweet and sharp in a way that made him miss the signature fragrance you always wore. Stack wandered over to the couch and sat down, legs spread wide. Tasha was on him immediately, she straddled him without waiting for an invitation, rolling her hips real slow like she already knew what he liked.
Out of habit, he rested his hands on her waist. His fingers didn’t dig in or stroke, wander to her ass, he just sat there looking bored. Tasha continued to pepper kisses across his jaw and he allowed it. But when she made her way to his lips— he turned his head sharply.
The woman’s body tensed and she pulled away with a frown.
“You good?”
“I’m straight.”
Hesitantly Tasha got back into her groove, dragging her nails down his chest. The silence stretched and he could feel her getting frustrated in the way her body tensed. Still, he kept the same bored expression.
“You sure you good? Cause you actin’ real bored for a man who invited me over.”
Finally, Stack looked at Tasha. She was pretty. Nice body, pretty smile. There wasn’t anything wrong with her, but still Stack didn’t feel a pull low in his belly or any urge to flip her under him. There was no interest in hearing what she sounded like when she came or moaned his name. He just kept thinking about you. How your thighs slotted perfectly over his and how your mouth always tasted like whatever chapstick you’d chosen that day.
“Yeah, you right. I think you should go.” He mumbled, gently lifting Tasha off him by her hips. She didn’t move from where he placed her on the couch. She continued to sit, staring at him in blatant disbelief.
“You serious right now?”
Stack stretched and reached over, grabbing the remote. He clicked a button and the television came on, filling the silence of the room.
“Yeah.”
If looks could kill Stack would’ve been six feet under.
Tasha rose from the couch hastily, snatching her bag from the coffee table before leaving. The door slammed behind her harder than it needed to and the echo of it sounded through the apartment. Still unphased, Stack let out a heavy sigh as he started flicking through different movies on Netflix. He kept the tv on, letting it consume the silence. Quiet had never bothered him before you.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Smoke stopped by to check on Stack two days later. Ever since they were in the womb, he knew when something was wrong with his twin. He didn’t knock when he stopped by, he always came in unannounced. Smoke walked into the kitchen and dropped the greasy takeout bag on the counter. He looked his twin over like he was diagnosing how bad the heartbreak was— and he’d never seen it this bad. Not even with Mary.
“You look like shit. Y’ain’t been sleepin’, have you?”
Stack was sitting motionlessly, halfway watching a basketball game with no idea of who was in the lead.
“I’m fine, what you got to eat?”
Smoke nodded his head silently as he started unpacking the food. But he didn’t leave the topic alone just yet.
“Y’all still on that silent treatment?” Now it was Stack’s turn to ignore the question, that was all the confirmation his brother needed. “Once you start catchin’ feelings, nobody else taste the same. Y’know that right?”
At this, Elias shot his twin a look that said leave it be.
“Ain’t nobody catchin’ feelings.”
“You put that fine ass stallion out the other day ‘cause she wasn’t the one you wanted in yo lap.” Smoke’s voice stayed flat, bored almost. “That sound like not catchin’ feelings to you?”
The temperature in the room stayed the same despite the heaviness of Elijah’s words. As much as Elias wanted to curse at his brother and tell him he was wrong, he was right. Still, he mumbled an annoyed “whatever” and sat across from him at the table, fighting back a smirk when he noticed his favorite Indian food.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Bad news came the next Tuesday. The gym had put a hurting on Stack, and he was making his way from his car to his front door when Smoke pulled up. Evening was settling over the city, and his shirt was still clinging to his back with sweat from his work out.
“I got bad news.” Smoke said simply. Stack wiped his face with the bottom of his shirt as he slowly approached his brother’s car. If it warranted an in person visit, it was more than bad.
“What.”
“Saw ya girl at the comic bookstore on 5th street. She was with ol’ boy from the club, tall nigga.”
Stack went totally still and the towel in his hand stopped moving over his neck.
“She still dealin’ with dude?”
Shrugging once, Smoke held his hands up. “Look like it to me. They was walkin’ out together and he was holdin’ a bag for her. Looked real comfortable if y’ask me.” He took in his twin’s ragged appearance before adding, “If you love that girl don’t wait too much longer. He got plans for her. I can tell.” That was all. He didn’t comment further, ask what his brother planned to do, or offer further advice. He delivered the last sentence and held Stack’s stare for a second longer than necessary before leaving.
When the conversation with his twin ended, Stack stood in his living room for a long while thinking hard. It was one thing for y’all to be at the club, but a bookstore date? Nah. That’s too close to home. He couldn’t stomach the idea of you going on real dates with this man. Smiling at whatever stupid thing he said, letting him touch you. The uncomfortability of it all settled deeper under his skin the longer he pictured it like a petulant sunburn. You weren’t even trying to hide that you were dealing with this guy anymore. You were just out here, dating in the open like he’d never put his mouth between your legs and made you shake.
Autopilot mode was the only way to describe Stack’s thought process once he entered the shower. The night at the club kept replaying behind his eyelids. The way you looked at him when he caught you. How you went back to Malik instead of staying, instead of going home with him. And especially— how you kept seeing this man even after Stack had told you to lose his number. Pride and jealousy wrenched together in his gut until he couldn’t tell which hurt worse.
When the water from the shower was cut off, he had already made his decision. The only way through this was to make you his. Quickly, he got dressed. Grey sweatpants a black t shirt, and the chain you always played with when you sat in his lap. He was out the door before the water had even fully dried on his skin.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
By the time Stack was halfway to your place he was fully dry and his thoughts had unfogged enough for his good sense to be activated. He couldn’t come over empty handed. He shook his head at the thought of coming to your place and agitating you without having food to soothe you after. Only a fool would do something so stupid. So, like a good boy, he stopped and ordered your favorite food and grabbed your preferred wine and some flowers for good measure. His elders always taught him you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.
The bags sat in the passenger seat of the car and Stack kept looking over at the flowers like they might disappear if he didn’t check. By the time he pulled up at your place he had rehearsed what he wanted to say a million times over in his head. He was coming to fix things, and he brought things you liked because some part of him thought it might make a difference. He knocked on your door in that familiar rhythm only he used. You knew it was him without checking the peep hole.
When you swung the door open, your attitude was on full display. There he was, bags in one hand and flowers in the other. The familiar scent of his soap clung to his skin and his hair was still damp. The second he laid his eyes on you his expression softened and he forgot everything he planned to say. Except for,
“You datin’ niggas now?” His voice was pained and tight. Your gaze dropped to the items he was holding and drifted back up to his face. Grudingly, you stepped to the side and allowed him to come in.
He watched with greedy eyes as you sauntered into the kitchen to grab wine glasses, hips switching and jiggling your ass as you walked.
“Do my eyes deceive me, or is a man who told me to lose his number actin’ brand new?” You grumbled, avoiding eye contact. Stack shut the door behind him with a quiet click. The bags were set down with more care than his voice had. Suddenly, the space felt a lot smaller than it did before. Stack crossed his arms over his chest and his eyes moved over your face like he was looking for something.
“You out here goin’ on dates, my patnas tellin’ me you still spendin’ time with ol’ boy after I caught y’all at the club.” Your expression remained unchanged as you uncorked the wine and began pouring the glasses. “Why you bein’ like this?”
When you still didn’t answer, just raised an eyebrow in annoyance, he increased his proximity. You felt the solid heat of him against your back. He wasn’t touching you— yet. Just letting you feel the warmth of him against you. Then, he brushed his lips against the back of your neck and said,
“Tell me baby. Why you doin’ me like this, hm? Like I ain’t never stroked you so deep you cried for me ‘cause it felt so good… like this lil body don’t react every time I touch it.” As if on cue he pressed his lips against the side of your neck and you let out a soft involuntary sound, leaning back into him instinctively.
“You made the rules stack. Don’t get mad when I finally start playin’ by ‘em. And you damn sure don’t just get to show up with food and these sorry ass flowers like that fixes everything.”
He pressed his back against your chest fully now and mumbled, “Look at me.” When you didn’t, he gently turned you in his arms by your waist. His voice was barely above a whisper when it came out. “I don’t wanna see you with nobody else. I don’t wanna think about somebody else knowin’ how sweet those pretty lil moans sound when you get like that. So I need you to tell me it still belong to me.”
The audacity of this man was astonishing honestly. You stared at him unblinking. The raw honesty in his voice almost had you until you remembered that last nasty text he’d sent. Then your eyes sharpened.
“I’m not yours. You never claimed me.”
“I’m claimin’ you now” he replied simply, as if it was obvious.
“No” you shook your head firmly. “You only sayin’ that because somebody else wants me. You comin’ over here today doesn’t change that.” His hands came to rest on either side of you on the counter, trapping you in between his arms.
“I’m sayin’ it ‘cause I mean it. I’m done pretending I don’t”
When he leaned in, you instinctively leaned back. You held his gaze for a moment and he respected the distance. It lasted for only a second. Once his thumb brushed over the exposed skin of your belly, you allowed him to catch your waist and pull you in. Initially the kiss was pride and anger. Teeth and tongue, both looking for dominance.
The second time your lips joined, it was slow enough for him to slide his tongue against yours in a tantalizing rhythm. A small sound escaped your lips without permission, and Stack’s breathing changed when he heard it. By the time you went in for a third kiss, you were on top of the counter and he was fully between your legs spreading them wider. His hands were roaming under your shirt like he’d been starving for the feel of you.
“You still mad, I know.” he said the words in between needy kisses. “But I know you missed me just as much as I missed you.” He voice had dropped several octaves and it was rough with lust. Your pulse quickened against his lips as he kissed your throat and he squeezed your hips to show he noticed.
“Fuck you, Stack”
“Oh I’m bout to, baby. Don’t even worry that pretty lil head.”
With that, he lifted you from the counter and you reflexively wrapped your legs around his waist. Straight to the bedroom you went.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Clothes hit the floor in random pieces until they were all gone. Stack made himself comfortable between your legs and gazed over your features as if he was still deciding how nice he was gonna be to you. Whatever he saw made his pupils become more dilated with lust— most likely your stubborn unwillingness to secede. When he kissed you his tongue moved slow and thorough like he was trying to make you forget every bit of the argument you two had.
A hand drifted between your legs and he groaned against your lips when he found that you were already wet for him. His eyes flicked down to your sex and back to your face, watching your expression closely as he slid his middle and ring finger inside you. A satisfied grin made its way across his features when your lips parted and your lashes fluttered against your cheekbones.
“This pussy gon’ tell me it missed me even if you don’t.” he cooed as he continued his torment, curling his fingers just right against that spongy spot inside you. Your thighs twitched and a shaky breath passed your lips. Your hips chased his fingers and he drank in every little pleasured expression greedily. He paid close attention every time your expression changed.
“Tell me it’s mine” he murmured. When you shook your head stubbornly, he used his other hand to push your—his— t-shirt under your collarbones and just above your breasts. He latched a hot mouth to your areola, drawing a surprised cry from you as he suckled your nipple gently into his mouth. Your refusal to give in to him ignited something. A third finger joined the others and pressed harder, thumb circling your clit with precision until your thighs started shaking.
“Say it baby, stop playin’ with me. This pussy loves me just as much as I love you.”
A small squeak escaped you as your hips chased his hand desperately. You’d been craving his touch just as much as he’d been craving your presence in his bed at night. Still, in all your stubbornness, you uttered,
“Make me”
When the words he desired never passed your lips, he withdrew his fingers and sucked them into his mouth, holding your eye contact steadily as he tasted your essence. Hungrily, you tugged at his sweats. Stack drew his teeth between his bottom lip when his length sprung free, hard, thick, and leaking pre-cum. You nearly drooled at the sight, not having seen it in two weeks. Before you could touch him, he shifted you onto your back. And before you knew it, your calves were pinned on either side of your hips.
Stack dropped his forehead to yours as he gently dragged the head of his dick between your folds, nudging your clit intentionally each time. He waited until your expression grew needy with want before gently pushing past your entrance. He stretched you slowly, head dropping further into your neck the further he sank into you. When he was buried inside you, he let out a deep exhale. Like he’d been homesick and was finally home.
“Fuck— I missed bein’ this deep inside you. You feel that baby?” He lifted his head now, longingly staring into your irises. “That’s me puttin’ it back where it belong. Go on dates if you want, keep lettin’ that nigga buy you books. But this right here still answer to me. Say it.”
Instead of answering you whimpered and the sound make his stomach tighten. He adjusted his angle so that the head of his dick massaged intensely into that swollen bundle of nerves that only he seemed to find so easily. Your eyes flew open and a high-pitched moan flew past your lips. His breathing hitched as he watched the way your lips trembled. Something real close to satisfaction settled over his features.
“Yeah, that’s it baby. Whenever I kiss that lil spot just right you start shakin’ for me. Keep them pretty eyes on me. Wanna see what you look like when you finally stop fightin’ it.”
And true to his word, he stayed right on that spot. Your walls started fluttering around him and he noticed the change immediately. He slowed his strokes, deliberately dragging them out to hear you moan real pretty for him. When your first orgasm hit, your mouth fell open and your eyes went glassy. Stack drew his bottom lip between his teeth as the sight and kept grinding through it, relishing in the way your expression grew desperately needy.
“That’s one. Still ain’t said it though.”
You were still riding through the aftershocks of your first orgasm when he hooked both your legs over his arms and folded you deeper into the mattress. The new angle forced a high-pitched sound he hadn’t heard before from your lips and his eyebrows rose in both enjoyment and surprise.
“Stack— wait. Too much” you stuttered through deep breaths.
“Nah. You said make you, right?” He ground against that small bundle nerves in slow circles and your face twisted with ecstasy. Stack’s own expression tightened with hunger as he watched you. “So I’m gon’ make you. Say it belong to me.”
Unwilling to relent, you shook your head even as waves of pleasure crashed through your core. He saw the refusal sitting behind your eyes and his strokes got meaner, more precise and deliberate. Your stomach clenched again and your thighs trembled against his arms. He felt every little flutter and took pleasure in knowing the words he desired were an orgasm away.
“Say it, baby.”
“It’s yours Elias, it’s yours.” You cried as your second orgasm rose slowly but intensely. His eyes closed and the words fell over him like a prayer. The confession hit him harder than expected. When he opened them again, he was completely focused and he drove deeper.
“Again” he mumbled against your lips.
“It’s yours” you whimpered brokenly. He leaned down and brushed his lips over yours. Not really kissing, just letting you feel the soft heat of his mouth against yours while he kept up that focused rhythm between your legs. Every time the head of his dick dragged over that spot, your pussy clenched and fluttered around him.
“Stack—” you stuttered, voice still shaking. “It feel… it feel so good when you dig in me like that. Right there, please, I think I’m gon cum again”
He moaned softly against your lips, a low intimate sound that was pulled deep from his chest. He kept repeating that same motion, intentionally grinding into that little spot over and over again in relentless strokes. He watched your face the whole time. His eyes tracked the way your brows furrowed and how your lips parted every time he pushed inside you a little deeper. The orgasm started pulling out of you in long, drawn out waves. Those little sounds that Stack had missed so dearly kept spilling past your lips as you creamed around him in messy gushes. His jaw went tight when he felt it.
Right as the orgasmic wave hit its peak, he pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes. His were dark with need.
“Open”
You opened your mouth without hesitating, and he let a string of saliva drop from his lips onto your tongue. The second it landed you swallowed and your orgasm intensified hard. Your pussy clenched around him in intense, rhythmic pulses and another rush of cream squelched around his dick. The wet sounds got obscenely loud and Stack’s gaze stayed locked on your face. He admired the way your expression cracked even further, like the sight of it was doing something to him.
“That’s it, good girl baby.” He groaned against your mouth. “Take it just like that. Let me feel how wet you get when I stroke it real deep like this. Tell me again. Who it belong to?”
“You” you sobbed, completely fucked out at this point. “It’s yours, Stack. I promise.”
Something in his expression softened and he kissed you deep and slow while he continued fucking you through the aftershocks, never fully letting the overstimulation fade.
“I got you, mama. This stays mine. These legs stay open for me… this soft lil pussy only gon’ get wet like this for me. Promise me.”
“Yes, anything. You can have whatever you want. This pussy’s yours” your voice was still shaking from the intensity of your orgasm.
“Fuck— gon’ make me cum talkin’ to me like that girl” he growled. Only when you had promised yourself to him several times over and your body was trembling non-stop did he bury himself as deep as you’d take him. His eyes stayed locked on yours as he came, and a low, primal sound left his chest while his dick pulsed hard inside you. He watched your pretty face the whole time, like he needed to see you were taking it.
After, he stayed inside you, still breathing hard. One hand stroked over your hip where it met your belly like he still couldn’t believe you’d given yourself to him like this. His pupils were still dilated and searching your face.
“You mine. That ain’t changin’” he said quietly. It wasn’t a question. Just a fact he decided to force into existence. You didn’t answer. You were still shaking and your adrenaline was still pumping. The anger hadn’t fully subsided yet but something warm and tender was taking its place. He kissed you again, slower and deeper this time, and still didn’t pull out.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
please respect my work 💌
Everything posted here is written by @brownsugarletters. Please do not repost, copy, translate, claim as your own, upload to AI tools, or share my writing outside of Tumblr without permission.
I put a lot of care into these stories, so please keep them here and respect my space.
(,,>﹏<,,) bring your kid to work day + nanami! ✦⋆💼.˚
“my love, are you absolutely sure about this?”
you giggle, turning from where you’d been preparing your daughter’s mini lunchbox so that you’re facing your husband. his face is taut, a subtle sense of worry set in his features.
“kento.” a small, exasperated smile plays on your lips. “she’ll be fine. besides, you know how excited she’s been about this — she’s been talking about it all week!”
“i know, but...what if she gets bored? or if she wants to go home midway through the day? you know i can’t exactly take her back whenever i please.” nanami tugs at his tie a little, smoothing down the edges absentmindedly: a nervous tell of his that you’ve grown accustomed to by now.
you lean back against the kitchen counter, raising an eyebrow.
“she literally clings to you every time you work from home,” you counter, rolling your eyes at the memory of her behaviour just last week. she’d followed him around all day, pacing back-and-forth alongside him and just barely avoiding tripping him up while he had been taking important business calls. you had tried to pry her away just long enough for your poor husband to finish at least one business call without any disruptions, but that only resulted in tears. a lot of them.
in fact, she’d cried for an hour after that, sulking in her father’s arms as he empathetically stroked her hair in an attempt to calm her down.
okay, so nanami supposes you may have a point, she’d probably be just fine at his workplace.
he rubs his temple, regrettably all out of arguments. instead, he gives in and chooses to finish packing his bag for work, shoulders lowering a fraction.
you both hear several loud, unceremonious stomps coming down the stairs, and you simultaneously turn to see your daughter reach the foot of the stairs, all ready for her day out. she has a huge grin plastered on her face, and her hair is in two neat pigtails — thanks to nanami of course — complete with two bright hair clips.
“i’m ready! let’s go!” she rushes to him and tugs at his leg, eyes wide and expression excited. she extends her arms in a silent plea to be carried, and who is your husband to deny his sweet daughter?
“see you after work!” you smile, pressing a quick kiss to your daughter’s nose and waving them both goodbye.
-
nanami leans back slightly from where he’s sat at his desk, staring at his computer screen and inspecting the values in the spreadsheet. it’s monotonous work, just about as boring as always — as should be expected of a 9-5 office job. unlike a typical work day, however, his desk has several colourful drawings scattered across its surface today. the first is a drawing of a flower, spirals of bright yellow crayon forming what he can only assume are the petals. alongside the flower picture are two other drawings: a drawing of a huge, wonky heart coloured in yellow, and then another sheet of paper with a drawing of a stick figure with blond hair, a serious expression drawn onto its round face.
averting his gaze from his desk, nanami moves to lift his breakfast (a pesto-mozzarella baguette) to his mouth, chewing slowly and watching his daughter doodle. she’s got her tongue stuck out as she scribbles in determined silence, her crayon in one hand and a chocolate chip muffin in the other.
the bakery workers had both worn a look of poorly-contained surprise upon hearing his order change from his usual baguette sandwich to both a baguette and a muffin this time. they’d always taken him as a man heavily rooted in routine, and so to see him stray away from what was typical of him was…odd.
“what are you drawing now, sweetheart?” nanami murmurs softly, watching her hunch over yet another sheet of paper, her grip firm on her crayon.
“me and papa at work!” she responds. he raises his eyebrows at that, a tiny, barely-perceptible smile crossing his features as he watches her join up the arms of the two stick figures so that they’re holding hands. she doesn’t lift her head from her drawing, too engrossed in adding his blond hair perfectly atop his head and drawing her own smile just right.
after about fifteen minutes or so, she’s done.
“tada! that’s papa, and that’s me!” she exclaims proudly, glancing up at nanami for approval and beaming when she sees him smile softly back at her. he strokes her hair, quiet for a moment before speaking.
“okay, now that you’ve finished your drawing, why don’t we take a break from playing so i can go get a coffee?”
“it’s not playing.” she corrects him, blinking up at him with solemn eyes. “i’m working, just like you do!” at that, your daughter puts a hand on her hip, looking up at her father with an unimpressed expression. while nanami’s not quite sure that he’d put gruelling office work on the same level as scribbling a few drawings, he decides it’s better not to debate on the matter.
“okay, i’m sorry, honey. let’s take a break from working and go get a coffee.”
“yay! okay!”
your daughter skips down the hall with him, speaking excitedly about her day as they approach the coffee machine.
“do you want to press the buttons for me?” he looks down at his daughter, and she nods excitedly. nanami carefully lifts her up, securing her in his arms so that she can reach the machine properly.
“an americano, please.” he places a mug under the machine before lifting a finger to point at the correct button. the four year old girl presses it with a tiny delighted giggle, clearly pleased with herself as coffee begins to pour out into the cup below.
“i want one too!”
“it may be a little too bitter for you, shall we get you a hot chocolate instead?”
that catches her attention. with an excited squeal, she agrees enthusiastically, turning to face the machine and trying to figure out which button to press. she hesitates, unsure which is the hot chocolate.
“that one, sweetheart.” nanami gently guides her finger to the right button and she turns her head to face him in awe as it pours out, eyes wide and surprised.
a couple of minutes later, your daughter skips back down the hall, nanami following close behind with two mugs in his hands, trying to match her pace while also making sure not to spill anything.
she slides happily into her seat next to his desk, tapping her hands on the tabletop expectantly as she waits for her father to put her mug down before pulling a sheet of paper and a crayon close to her.
“okay. now i’m in work mode! no distracting me, okay?” she blinks sternly up at him. she’s sat about as professionally as a four year old can be, her mug at her side and a stack of papers in front of her.
nonetheless, over the span of the next 5 or so minutes, your husband can’t help but notice one problem.
“is the hot chocolate too hot?” he asks gently, watching as his daughter reaches out for the drink a third time before quickly retracting her hands again.
“…mhm.” that earns a small, empathetic sigh from nanami.
“here, let me help.” he murmurs. gently, he lifts the mug to his lips and blows for a few minutes before taking a small sip.
“there. it should be fine now. try it.” she does so, meanwhile he brushes her hair away from her face tenderly.
“yeah! all better!” she shuts her eyes contentedly and takes the mug from his hands happily, kicking her legs back and forth in between excited sips.
after several minutes of being sat like that and sipping her drink, your daughter looks up from her hot chocolate to face nanami.
“i like working with papa!” she beams at him, showing off the mess of hot chocolate around her mouth and cheeks in the process.
nanami’s expression softens at those simple words.
“yeah, i like working with you too, sweetheart.”
a/n: idea creds to my lovely hazel @hangenism i love this idea and i love you thank you sososo much !!!
girl dad papamin you are SO dear to me ˊᗜˋ && this is a semi filler post while i try to get rid of my writing block
robby calling you a good girl at work under his breath when you successfully save a car crash patient’s life under his watchful eye
and robby calling you a good girl at home, when he’s got you bouncing on his big hard cock, stretching around him, moaning and gasping and doing everything he says
⤷ ゛ despite the fact that sukuna certainly had your attention now, you were still determined to do your job as a lifeguard. that didn’t stop sukuna from trying to catch your attention again, though, in his own selfish way. part 2 to this. ˎˊ˗
contents. sukuna x fem reader | beach lifeguard!reader | sukuna naturally having no regard for public opinion and safety
you sat in your lifeguard chair, sunglasses on, scanning the water with familiar precision. the beach was moderately busy— families, couples, a few teenagers trying to look cool. everything was calm and under control.
then you heard the low rumble of an engine, a little too loud, a little too showy. you didn’t need to look to know who it was. you’d recognize that sound anywhere now. the beat-up old chevelle that sukuna had rebuilt with his own hands, its paint job a patchwork of primer and glossy red.
you kept your eyes forward, jaw set. don’t look. don’t give him the satisfaction.
“hey, beautiful.” you heard about 5 minutes later.
his voice drifted up from below, smooth as oil. you could picture him perfectly without even glancing down— leaning against your lifeguard stand with that infuriating smirk, his white tank top doing absolutely nothing to hide the lines of muscle beneath.
you continued scanning the water.
“i know you can hear me,” he called up. “come on. it’s hot as hell. come down and let me buy you a snow cone.”
“i’m working, sukuna.”
“it’s a slow day. no one’s dying.”
you finally allowed yourself a glance down. he was exactly as you’d imagined; smirking, arms crossed, sunglasses pushed up into his pinkish hair. he was holding a paper cup with a straw, condensation dripping down the sides. a sweet treat for a trap.
“nice try,” you said, turning back to the ocean. “i’m not leaving my post.”
he clicked his tongue, feigning disappointment. “you’re so stubborn. it’s one of your best qualities, you know.”
“and you’re a distraction.”
“if you say so,” he shrugged, taking a loud, obnoxious sip from the snow cone. “now come down here and taste this. it’s cherry. your favorite.”
your stomach did a traitorous little flip. it was cute that he remembered your order.
you gripped the armrests of your chair a little tighter. “i can’t. i’m working.”
“you’ve been up there for hours, pretty girl,” he pressed, stepping closer to the ladder. “what if i told you i missed you? what if i told you i drove all the way from the shop just to see your pretty face for five minutes?”
“you drove from the shop because it’s a ten-minute ride from the beach and you know it, asshole.”
he laughed out a low, genuine sound that always made your resolve soften just a fraction. “you got me. but i still missed you.”
you bit the inside of your cheek. he was relentless. he’d been like this ever since that first date, showing up whenever he could. sometimes with food, sometimes with some excuse about “just passing by,” sometimes just to stand there and look at you until you caved. creep.
and you did cave. sometimes. he was a charming man after all. you were weak, even weaker when he flashed you that smirk of his.
but not today. today you were strong.
“sukuna, i’m serious. go back to work. i’ll call you when my shift ends.”
he let out a sigh, rolling his eyes at you. “i was about to offer you something even better than a snow cone.”
you arched an eyebrow, already suspicious. “what?”
“come down here and i’ll show you.”
“absolutely not.”
“scared?”
“fuck you,” you scowled at him..
he grinned, slow and wolfish. “i could climb up there, you know. make it worth your while.”
your face flushed, and you were grateful for your bigsunglasses hiding the evidence. “you wouldn’t dare.”
“you sure about that?”
he grabbed the first rung of the ladder and your heart jumped into your throat.
“sukuna! i will kick you in the face!”
he paused, looking up at you with mock innocence. “really?”
“do not—do not—come up here. this is a public beach. there are children.”
he glanced around pointedly. “i don’t see any children. i see a very attractive lifeguard who looks like she could use a break.”
“i don’t need a break.”
“that’s right, you need a kiss.”
“i don’t—”
“you need my kiss,” he continued, as if you hadn’t spoken. “i’ve been thinking about it all morning. your mouth. the way you taste. the little sound you make when i—”
“sukuna.”
he was already climbing. two rungs up, then three, his grin widening as you scrambled to your feet in your tiny chair, clutching your whistle like a weapon.
“get back down, you animal.”
“make me.”
he reached the top, his face level with your thighs. and then he was in your space, one hand gripping the edge of the chair, the other reaching for your hip.
“this is highly inappropriate,” you hissed, even as your body betrayed you, leaning slightly toward him.
“then tell me to stop one more time. maybe i’ll listen.”
you didn’t.
he tugged you closer, his mouth finding yours. it was easy to forget where you were, when he was kissing you like that; hungry mouth consuming yours, bitting your lips gently, sucking on them one by one and taking his sweet time. one of his hands slid down your back, fingers grazing the waistband of your swimsuit, thumb pressing into the curve of your hip.
“someone could see,” you murmured against his lips, arms twitching to pull him closer.
“let ‘em, baby.”
his hand dipped lower, palm cupping your ass with zero shame. you gasped into his mouth, half scandalized, half aching for more.
“suku—”
“just a quick one,” he breathed, nipping at your lower lip. “i’ve been good. i’ve been so good. i’ve been patient. haven’t i been patient?”
“you’ve certainly been annoying.”
“i don’t see you resisting much.” his hand squeezed, completely enjoying himslef. “still letting me touch you. still making those little sounds i like.”
you smacked his chest weakly. “shut it.”
“i know a way.”
he kissed you again, deeper this time, and you felt yourself sinking into it. his other hand came up to cup your jaw, tilting your head just the way he knew you liked.
you were so lost in it that you almost didn’t hear the whistle. a sharp, shrill blast cut through the air.
you jerked back, heart pounding, and whirled around. a girl in a yellow bikini was waving frantically from the shore, pointing at the water.
“lifeguard! help! my boyfriend’s cramping!”
shit.
you shoved sukuna’s chest, hard. “move. now.”
he stumbled back onto the ladder, nearly losing his grip, but you were already sliding down past him, feet hitting the sand. you took off at a sprint, your instincts kicking in.
sukuna watched you go, still grinning, lips buzzing from the kiss. he leaned against the lifeguard stand, arms crossed, completely unbothered.
“same time tomorrow?” he called after you.
you didn’t answer, flipping him off, but he saw the way your shoulders shook with a laugh as you ran toward the water.
⤷ ゛sukuna desperately trying to get the hot lifeguard’s attention using his nephew yuuji. you, the lifeguard, are not very impressed. ˎˊ˗
contents. sukuna x fem reader | beach lifeguard!reader | part 2?
the sun was a merciless bastard, baking the sand until it shimmered. you, perched high on your lifeguard stand, were the only relief in sight. sunglasses perched on your nose, whistle glinting, you were the undisputed ruler of this stretch of beach and sukuna, sprawled on a towel like a lazy lion, was utterly captivated.
he’d been watching you for an hour. the way you scanned the water, the authoritative tilt of your head, the way your sun-kissed skin looked in that red swimsuit. he needed to have you. but you were a quite literally blind to his want and every attempt to get your attention had failed.
“oi, brat,” he grunted, nudging the pink-haired teenager next to him with a foot. yuuji, who had been happily building a rather lopsided sandcastle, looked up, sand clinging to his nose.
“what, uncle sukuna?” yuuji asked, squinting.
“see that lifeguard?” sukuna didn’t point, just jerked his chin in your direction. “i need her to notice me.”
yuuji blinked. “so… go talk to her?”
“don’t be a simpleton,” sukuna scoffed. “she’s too focused on her job. we need to create a distraction. maybe an emergency.”
yuuji’s eyes widened, immediately darting to the calm ocean. “a real one? is someone drowning?”
“no, you imbecile. a fake one.” sukuna’s eyes glinted with a terrible plan. “you. you’re going to pretend to drown.”
yuuji’s face fell. “what? no! that’s mean! and what if i actually get in trouble?”
“you won’t,” sukuna said, his voice brooking no argument. “it’s shallow. just flail around a bit. act pathetic. it’s your specialty.”
“it is not my specialty!” yuuji protested, but sukuna had already grabbed him by the back of his swim trunks and was dragging him toward the water.
“just do it, you little shit. or i’ll tell your mother about the time you tried to use her good kimono as a cape.”
yuuji groaned, shoulders slumping in defeat. “fine! but you owe me. like, a lot of ice cream.”
he waded into the water, looking back with a look of pure, theatrical dread. then, with a sigh that could be heard from the shore, he started flailing his arms and yelling in the most unconvincing way possible. “oh no! help! i am… drowning! augh! water!”
sukuna watched, ignoring the urge to cover his face with secondhand embarrassment eating him alive, in favour of waiting for you. but you didn’t move much, leaned forward in your seat and when you saw yuuji standing and then deliberately falling in, you just gave a slow, irritated shake of your head, and went back to scanning the horizon. your expression was clear: nice try, kid.
sukuna couldn’t even blame you.
“useless,” sukuna snarled under his breath. yuuji stopped flailing, a look of utter humiliation on his face as he walked back to the shore, dripping and defeated.
“she didn’t buy it!” yuuji whined.
“gee i wonder why,” sukuna deadpanned as he slapped the back of yuuji’s head. he walked over to the edge of the water where yuuji stood, then, without a word, he shoved his nephew squarely in the chest. yuuji, caught completely off guard, toppled backward with a surprised squawk and a dramatic splash, landing in a shallow dip that was, admittedly, just a little deeper than he was tall.
“hey!” yuuji’s head broke the surface, coughing and sputtering for real this time, his eyes wide with genuine panic. “what was that for?!”
but sukuna was already looking up at your stand, a smug, expectant grin on his face. now, he thought. now she has to come.
he saw you sigh with profound annoyance written on your face. you slid down the side of your stand and began walking toward the water. sukuna’s heart did a triumphant little flip. finally.
you strode past him, not even sparing him a glance. you walked straight into the water, up to your waist, and hooked a strong arm around confused yuuji and guided him back to shore.
as you deposited him safely on the sand, you finally turned to sukuna, your gaze sharp and icy. you leaned in, the smell of coconut sunscreen and salt water filling his senses, making him feel dizzy for a reason that had nothing to do with the sun. his plan was working… wasn’t it?
“did you just seriously push him in?” you asked, your voice even.
sukuna’s grin only widened. he leaned in closer, his voice a low rumble. “i just wanted to get your attention. you’re a very hard woman to distract.”
“i’m a lifeguard,” you said flatly. “it’s my job to see through bullshit.”
“then you must see i’m serious,” sukuna said, his red eyes locked on yours. “the kid’s fine. i wouldn’t actually hurt him.” he offered a dismissive wave at yuuji, who was currently trying to cough up a lung on the sand behind them. “he’s tougher than he looks. the point is, i got you down here. and since you’re here, how about we skip the near-drowning and you just let me take you out for a drink?”
you stared at him, a storm of irritation swirling in your eyes. your lips pressed into a thin line.
“you are an ass,” you said, poking a finger into the center of his chest. sukuna resisted the urge to grip your wrist in his hand.
sukuna’s grin was utterly insufferable. “and you’re hot. so, what do you say?”
yuuji, finally recovered, scrambled to his feet. “uncle sukuna! i’m telling mom you tried to drown me!”
“shut up, yuuji,” sukuna said without looking away from you. “can’t you see i’m in the middle of something?”
you crossed your arms, your gaze flickering from his arrogant smirk to yuuji’s indignant, pouty face.
“you guys look weirdly identical.”
“no, he’s uglier.” “no, he’s uglier!” yuuji and sukuna both say in unison.
a small, reluctant smile finally tugged at the corner of your lips. you shook your head, the fight draining out of you. yes, he was an absolute menace, but he was also, infuriatingly, very, very charming. he’s been told so many times.
“one drink,” you said, holding up a finger. “and if you try to drown anyone else to get my attention, i’m having you banned from the beach. permanently.”
sukuna’s smile was triumphant. “agreed. i only need one chance.” he glanced over at yuuji. “see, kid? patience is a virtue.”
“you pushed me into the water!” yuuji yelled.
“whatever, loser,” he turned back to you, his expression softening into something almost genuine. “what’s your name, pretty?”
you told him, along with your number, and then you walked back to your stand, the whistle swinging against your chest. sukuna watched you go, a satisfied smirk plastered on his face. he’d gotten what he wanted, after all.
yousharknotpass
tangentwithtanner
gracieabrams
germansingergirl
pixelskylines
snowghoul
