Nirvana: A Rock Lee Tale (Chapter 12)
Summary: You and Lee navigate his injury’s recovery as a couple, while also getting acquainted with your family. When you both finally return to the dojo, the taijutsu community celebrates your reunion! Now that everything’s back to normal, you and Lee finally feel safe enough to fully surrender to each other.
Notes: slow burn fic, afab/fem/black chubby reader.
Warnings: 18+, cursing, use of the n-word, emotional angst, teeth-rotting fluff, smut: foreplay, dirty talk, cunnilingus, anal play, spanking, p-in-v penetration, orgasm portrayal, aftercare, more teeth-rotting fluff. Enjoy ;) [18+ ONLY: MINORS/NO AGE IN BIO=DO NOT INTERACT]
It is now two months since Lee’s injury. Two months of being on the receiving end compared to his lifetime of giving. Guy, Neji, and even Sasuke help with looking after the dojo, per your boyfriend’s request.
While they handle that, you start taking the domestic reins: occasionally cooking his meals, helping out with tidying his house, driving him places to run errands—all while he’s keeping your bills paid. And you know how hard it is for him. You know he still runs every morning to stay fit, you see how reluctant he gets about accepting help.
That’s why when he ultimately does, you celebrate him every time; whether it be an indulgent kiss on his cheek or a warm-baked dessert, you need Lee to remember how deserving he is of service. After everything he’s done for you and his community, you just want him to reap the same benefits.
While peacefully eating together in his dining room, you use the shared quiet to scheme.
How can I best take his mind off that injury?
How can I help him remember?
“Honey?” you ask sweetly.
Lee swallows the last remnants of his food before meeting your gaze, “Hm?”
“I got to meet your family,” you prompt while fiddling with your napkin.
“I think it’s about time you meet mine.”
Your man takes a sip of his orange juice, nodding his head to show he’s listening.
“Are you referring to your parents?”
“God, no,” You chortle ruefully.
“I have a best friend. Her name’s Bria.”
Lee shoots you an eager grin as he places his glass back on the table.
“I’d love to meet her!” Lee affirms. “Just set the time and place.”
You sigh in relief, feeling your back rest against the chair.
After notifying Bria, she agrees to meet Lee–says she can’t wait to meet the man who’s gonna finally make her an auntie. Her words, not yours.
The three of you attend a local music festival adorned in colorful decor, vibrant business booths, devoted indie bands, and a bustling crowd of diverse people. You all sit together at a table bench eating lunch, conversing amongst yourselves about what you bought, which band you liked listening to, what foods you want to try.
And yet as sweet as Bria is when getting to know someone, her authenticity still slips through the cracks.
“Wait till I find me a man who beats niggas up for a living,” she declares.
Lee guffaws at her choice of wording as you sigh hopelessly with a knowing smile.
Before second-guessing what comes out of his mouth, Lee blurts, “Then get ready for life-altering injuries and long months of recovery.”
Even though he framed it as a light joke, the brief silence that follows reveals the jaded attitude underneath. Lee notices the concern in your gaze, but he slouches and ignores it.
“I mean,” Bria takes a sip of her fourth mimosa to clear her throat.
“Before homegirl met you, she had been looking after herself her whole life.”
Lee raises his eyes to meet Bria’s at the mention of you.
“But now? She has someone financially supporting her indefinitely. If you ask me, she has officially redeemed her taste in men.”
“Bria!” You whine, mortified and appreciative of her honesty.
Lee feels the heaviness in his chest gradually disperse after hearing the casual conviction in her wisdom.
Ah. This is why she’s special.
This is why she’s your family.
“Thanks Bria,” says Lee. “I’ll keep that in mind from now on.”
“You can thank me by—by linking me up with one of your rich taijutsu friends.”
Your man fails to restrain his giddy chuckle, imagining how Neji would adapt to such a personality.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“We should also see our way out of this festival,” you intervene, knowing how uninhibited Bria’s mouth gets when she’s tipsy.
“Yeah, it’s getting late,” Lee agrees.
A guttural groan escapes Bria’s lips before she downs the rest of her drink.
“Cockblockas,” she complains dejectedly.
After buying takeout for the night, you and Lee get settled in his car. You turn to face your beloved from the driver’s seat.
The corner of Lee’s mouth tugs upward at the candied tone of your soft voice.
“Anything you want, sweetness.”
You start the car and look ahead, anything as a distraction from how quickly your smile’s growing.
After finally making it home, you both remove your shoes before stepping foot in the living room.
“Today was really fun!” Admits Lee while setting up dinner on the couch table.
You place your Jordan 1s by the front door, “Me too! Bria can be a handful when she’s drunk.”
“Well, I’m glad I got to meet her at least once.”
You sit on the couch and pat on a spot for Lee to sit. As you both settle together, you bless your food and he uses a dining cloth to protect his shirt.
“What are we watching, beloved?” You ask.
Lee’s already searching through your monthly subscriptions. You chuckle to yourself.
Someone’s made himself at home.
“Enter The Dragon,” he decides.
You gently gasp, “I loved that movie as a teen!”
“Hmph,” Lee lowers your remote as he waits for the film to load.
“Guess we’re both lucky, then.”
While enjoying your shared dinner, you both sit through the cinematic rollercoaster of a tragic martial artist who restores his murdered family’s dignity and justice. You and Lee’s combined laughter, equally insightful comments, and quiet moments when your knees touch all inhabit the domestic intimacy you’ve both prayed for— consciously or not.
“I am beyond full,” Lee pats his belly while releasing a belch loud enough to exceed the TV’s volume.
“Fucking gross,” you groan teasingly.
A lazy grin embellishes his face, “Sorry, princess. You still love me though.”
And you won’t argue with that.
When the credits finally roll, you pause the film with your remote..
“Speaking of love,” you prompt. “There’s this song…”
Lee notices the hesitation in your lowering gaze, the way your lips curl into a narrow line. He places his free hand on your knee, caressing its defined curve.
“What’s got you going all quiet on me now?”
His presence is so undeniably disarming. You just can’t possibly assume he’d refuse this request. Your spirit knows why.
“There’s this song I’ve always loved, a song I grew up with.”
Your man keeps quiet, holding space for you to voice whatever your mind is trying to withhold from him.
“Will… will you dance with me to it?”
Lee blinks a couple times.
“No, silly,” you chuckle tentatively. “Like a slow dance.”
As wonderful as that sounds, the constrictive feeling of his cast smothers the words in his mouth. You feel the apprehension radiating from his silence—from the way he frowns down at his injury, and place a gentle hand over the one on your knee.
“Your arm doesn’t bother me, honey. And it never will, alright?”
What if she doesn’t mean it?
As lovely as your saccharine promise is, it isn't until you slowly lift his chin with your finger that his heart finally sees how much you mean it.
“Alright?” You reiterate, eyebrows furrowing together with reverent command.
I’m not giving up on you.
Lee grabs your hand that holds his chin, and presses delicate kisses on your palm. While he’s more afraid than he’s willing to admit, he trusts you more than his own shame.
“What’s the song? I’ll play it on your TV.”
Your pretty face lights up at his decision to surrender, and that sight alone is all the “thank you” Lee will ever need.
“Greatest Love Of All by Whitney Houston!”
While your man uses your remote to search, you steadily push the couch table away from the big screen to make more room on the floor.
As soon as the first melody plays, you offer your hand and patiently wait for Lee to take it. He yelps when you pull him off his ass with a quickness, giggling cheekily at how he reorients himself.
You take a few steps toward him until he smells your tropical perfume, until he feels the warmth radiating from your body. Lee’s focus sharpens as he watches your calculated movements; you take his left arm and wrap it around your waist before gently placing your hands on each of his shoulders.
“Follow me as I follow the rhythm,” you instruct—voice low enough to reach his ears and reverberate down his spine.
Lee silently obeys as you both rock side to side with every step. He’s so focused on not fucking up the dance that he forgets to enjoy the steady beat of the ballad, he forgets to savor Houston’s angelic vocals. But when you pull him closer to rest your head on his chest, hearing you hum to such holy lyrics, his need for control evaporates instantly.
🎶Never to walk in anyone’s shadows🎶
The music and the legacy it carries finally envelops his racing mind, and he tightens his hold on your waist until your tummy’s flush against his. Lee needs to feel as much of you as possible, in this sacred moment you invited him to share.
🎶No matter what they take from me🎶
🎶They can’t take away my dignity🎶
You lift your head to meet his gaze, and the way you look up at him— with that pure, unadulterated admiration, makes him want to fall to his knees for you.
“Remember what you told Bria after she mentioned dating a fighter?”
Your question snaps Lee out of his love-induced trance, “Y—Yeah.”
“It worries me,” you confess.
“Is there something I should know? Am I doing too—“
Your beloved leans his head against yours, immediately halting your self-questioning.
“If it weren’t for you,” his firm tone commands your attention. “Living with a broken elbow would’ve been a lot more unbearable than it already is. Sucks to admit, I know.”
“Because I hate when the love of my life sees me like this.”
You release a quiet exhale at his heartbreaking revelation before shutting your eyes to think.
How can I help him remember?
“When you first asked me out, I was weak too, no?” You prompt.
“I was in shambles: crying, sniffling, throwing up—“
Lee huffs out a laugh, “You were a mess.”
“Exactly! So what’s the difference now? Am I not allowed to be here for you like you were for me?”
Your boyfriend massages the smooth pudge of your waist with his free hand, and you lean into his tender movements.
“Of course not, angel,” he affirms, hypnotically tracing your lower back with his fingers.
“We’re in this together.”
You stand on your tippy toes, wordlessly asking for a kiss. And when his lips leisurely interlock with yours, he finally understands why you asked him to slow dance in the first place.
🎶Because the greatest love of all is happening to me🎶
🎶Learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all🎶
As the song concludes itself, you whine against Lee’s mouth at the moment ending so soon. Under the assumption of him wanting to sit out, you reluctantly break away from the kiss. He watches you with confused disappointment as to why you’re attempting distance. So he snatches you back into his secure grasp.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He chides, playfully pinching at your back roll until you squeal and squirm in his hold. Your shrieks of laughter fill the air and his healing heart alike.
These next two months are a breeze.
Two months later—after four months of recovery, Lee finally returns to the dojo, and you return with him. The bell jingles as he opens the door for you. You’re not even granted the time to put on your slippers–-instantly surrounded by a crowd of students hugging your legs with shrieks of joy and urgent questions.
“Are you staying for good?”
So many children were talking to you all at once, you just couldn’t keep up. Lee smiles endearingly at the way you hold them, despite how overwhelmed you are by their spontaneous bouts of affection. In some way, shape, or form, you’ve healed every single one of them. Kids never forget that.
“One question at a time, my loves!” You plead tentatively.
Lee decides it’s time to go into sensei-mode and wordlessly summons the students to return to the mat. When you step inside your office, a bunch of flowers, gifts, and new medical supplies decorate the space. You drop your purse and cover your mouth, feeling your nose sting with incoming tears.
I just came back to this place.
Don’t go crying on me already.
“We can help you make room if you need.”
You jolt at the voice behind you and turn to find Sasuke and—
“Wha—“ your eyes almost bulge out of your sockets.
“You! How did you end up here??”
Obito scratches his head with a nervous chuckle, “Long story short, Sensei-Lee let me train here.”
After Madara’s career-ending loss, Obito finally reflected on his teacher’s abusive tendencies and decided to cut all ties with him. While Lee was hospitalized, the teen gave him a visit and bowed his head--humbly begging to join his dojo and learn his ways. Even though he expected total rejection, Lee warmly accepted him under the condition that he stay devoted to taijutsu philosophy.
You find your jaw dropping--not out of disdain, you’re just utterly moved by such courage. You rest a welcoming hand on each student’s shoulder.
“Welp, this office ain’t gonna clean itself!”
While the young men help you reorganize your space, you listen to the enthusiasm in Lee’s booming voice echo from the other side of the room, and the students eagerly reciprocate his energy. It lightens up your whole body, the sounds of shared joy.
During the rearrangements, you quietly notice Obito and Sasuke’s blooming friendship; the way they make everything a competition— from who can store supplies the quickest to bickering about their tournament fight. You can feel the growing respect beneath their rivalry. After finishing up, you show the boys gratitude for their collaborative effort and escort them out of your office.
But before you can shut the door, Sasuke holds it open with his hand.
“Thanks, Miss. For everything.”
The quiet sincerity lacing his warm timbre leaves you briefly speechless, but he walks off before you can properly respond. So you sit behind your desk and peacefully wait for any patient in need.
While the students are on meditation break, Lee sits by his front desk with Might Guy. He skims through his appointment book of private training lessons, until Guy interrupts his train of thought.
“I’m going to have a chat with your future wife,” declares the elder.
Lee’s cheeks go up in flames as the image of you in a white wedding dress claims his vision.
We’ve been together no more than half a year.
We haven’t even talked about marriage yet.
I already want to see you walk down the aisle.
The young master recuperates himself and clears his throat, “Try not to say that in front of her, please.”
“I’ll try my best,” Guy promises.
You devour a leftover breakfast sandwich while watching YouTube on your laptop, until a few sharp knocks beckon your attention.
Guy rolls his way into your office before shutting the door.
What a delightful surprise!
After swallowing the rest of your food, you pause the video and fold your arms.
“The last time a man that wasn’t Lee came in here, it didn’t end well,” you warn in jest.
Guy bellows a fleeting cackle, “And it better stay that way!”
You close your computer and clear some space before folding your hands on the wooden surface.
“So what brings you here, sir?”
Guy closes the distance until he’s right in front of your desk.
“Please drop the formalities. I know you’re family.”
His casual recognition of your importance feels like the first ray of light initiating sunrise: warm and inevitable. You can’t hide the shy smile spreading your lips.
“I feel like we haven't been properly acquainted yet,” Guy starts.
You unravel your hands, “The feeling’s mutual! And is also why I’d like to thank you for keeping my head in the game when Lee… y’know—“
“Got his elbow snapped in two? I wouldn’t be doing my job right if I hadn’t.”
“…Yep,” you confirm warily.
Will I ever have a filter as non-existent as Guy’s?
The master decides to cut to the chase so no one’s time is wasted.
“I’m not sure if Lee’s shared this with you, but before you two met he hadn’t known a love that was faithful,” he confesses.
Your heart sinks to your stomach at what he’s referencing. There’s a shift in the air, a heaviness to the elder’s words that urge you to listen quietly.
“He’s not the man he used to be. I know he can handle himself.”
Guy recognizes the caution in your gaze, as if you’re subconsciously bracing for something. However, he refuses to not have this conversation with you—no matter how awkward it gets. The master leans forward so that you witness the long decades of hard-earned wisdom behind his eyes.
“But can you handle yourself in regard to loving my boy? Can I trust that you won’t betray yourself by betraying him?”
These questions unlock something in you; all the times you’ve been disregarded, all the times you’ve been let down, abandoned, and forsaken come rising to the surface of your expanding mind. But they don’t come in paralyzing resentment--they come in stark clarity. For just a fleeting moment, you imagine making Lee feel the same way Shikamaru did when he left you for someone else.
Your hands squeeze into fists, blazing determination surging through your veins.
“Your son’s heart is safe with me. I swear on my life.”
Your unwavering voice settles Guy’s spirit. He feels the unflinching truth radiating from your stare and leans back against his wheelchair with a conclusive smile.
“Then we’re going to have a good ol’ time!” He celebrates.
“Yayyy!” You cheer, laughing out any lingering tension from your chest. You’re forever grateful that the person Lee trusts the most is learning to trust you.
A few more hours pass until Lee finishes his final class. After folding his mat, he feels tempted to ask what you and Guy discussed. But when a tinge of guilt pulls on his heart strings, he pauses.
Sensei spoke to her privately for a reason.
The young master takes a deep breath and carries the mat into the storage room.
While putting on your street shoes, Lee approaches you. You look up at his crooked smile and the sight makes you swoon.
“Are we still on for horror movie night?” He checks.
“Hell yeah!” You confirm, too eager to hide how much you cherish his time.
It’s 9:45 pm: you and Lee sit together on his living room couch watching the final scenes of Ari Aster’s Midsommar. You’re both on edge for what’s next--mildly traumatized too, but your shared knack for humor lightens the heaviness of every shot.
You hold onto Lee, burying your face behind his shoulder when witnessing Dani’s drugged up boyfriend get burned alive in a bear suit. Your own boyfriend has his eyes on the screen, but he’s too busy enjoying how clingy you get when frightened.
“Woah…” Lee stares in awe at Dani’s unhinged smile right before the screen cuts to credit rolling.
“What a superb performance,” he commends.
You feel Lee’s shoulder shake with laughter at your timid inquiry.
“Yes, my love. It’s over.”
You sigh with relief and melt against the couch cushions, damn near drained from watching such an emotionally heavy film.
“Did you at least enjoy it?”
You stare up at the ceiling in deep thought to process his question.
“The cinematography is gorgeous and the acting is as good as you deem it,” you begin.
“Butttt this may be the last time I watch it.”
Lee snorts at your flat delivery because he knows you mean every word.
Experiencing this side of you—easily scared and adorably pliant, feels like discovering a part of his home he didn’t know existed. Every intimate layer of yourself you choose to share with him makes every heartbreak he’s endured worth the pain.
“That’s okay,” your man affirms. “We have whole categories of film at our fingertips.”
“No more horror for the night,” you grumble exhaustedly.
Lee’s reactive chuckle sounds like honey this up close, and it feels nothing short of private. You’d listen to him like this for hours.
He looks down at you, nibbling on his bottom lip.
Your eyes crack open and notice this strange look in Lee’s gaze, you feel the longing radiate from it.
Lee snaps out of his hesitation at the worry lacing your question.
Your man takes a deep breath as you look up at him with quiet patience.
If I’m gonna marry you, then we need to know each other a bit deeper.
“I want us to try something,” he confesses.
You blink a couple times, “Try what?”
“Relationships thrive on healthy communication," he prompts.
"And because of that, I don’t wanna guess what you’re thinking or assume what you need from me.”
“I’d... I'd like us to try this exercise where we take note of each other’s boundaries by asking questions. For example: What makes you feel the most loved? What makes you feel unsafe? Y’know, stuff like that.”
You sit up and straighten your posture, the gravity of his request urging you to mirror his investment.
“And we take notes so that we’ll remember?”
Harder than any man I’ve known.
You eagerly nod your head with an awestruck grin, “Let’s do it!”
The dormant warmth in Lee’s chest blooms into something euphoric enough to make him snag both of your phones from the couch table. He hands you yours, and you both take time accessing your document spaces.
“Of course you can,” he assures.
“Okay,” you avert your gaze to the small screen in your hand.
“What are your main deal breakers?”
Lee doesn’t miss a single beat, “Infidelity, lying, and violence of any kind.”
Lee watches you sit in a cross-legged position before continuing.
“How do you feel the most loved?”
Your man rests his arm across the couch’s back, eyes wandering in considerate thought. He thinks about all the things he couldn’t experience with Tenten, and even more so about what he can finally explore with you.
“Through the little things,” he starts.
“Like listening intently when I’m talking. Asking how my day went… Slow dancing.”
A smitten giggle disrupts your progress before you can hold it in.
“How do you handle fights or disagreements?”
“I like using ‘I’ statements to avoid imposing inaccurate narratives.”
You slowly nod with subtle approval.
Shika was never this mindful.
But how far is Lee willing to go?
Just how deep is he willing to dig?
All of Lee’s answers sound as perfect as your questions. And yet something is missing. Something you must know must come to light. After taking a deep breath, you exhale any lingering hesitance from holding you back.
“Do you have a therapist?”
Lee shuts his eyes to brace himself.
The eerily stoic look on your man’s face uneases you, but your thumbs stay hovered over your screen.
“I do have a therapist,” he begins.
“But I haven’t had a session since the tournament.”
You place your phone on your lap, letting his answer marinate in your head. You won’t guilt him for it. You won’t even ask him why. But you will protect yourself.
“If we’re going to continue this relationship, then you need to take therapy,” you gently assert.
“If I’m the only one attending sessions, then it’s not gonna work out.”
The mere idea of losing you—especially due to his own ego, urges Lee to vomit in his mouth. But he swallows it all down because he knows this heavy boundary comes from a place of love.
“I’ll schedule the soonest session there is,” he promises, reaching to interlock his fingers with yours.
You give his hand a couple squeezes, letting him know that you know he means it.
“Good. You wanna ask the questions this time?”
You chuckle at his enthusiasm this late into the night. He reactivates his phone while you place yours on the couch table.
“What makes you feel unsafe?”
“Yelling, gaslighting,” you use your fingers to keep track.
Lee types your answers with a soft scowl, knowing damn well that you had to experience these offenses to name them out loud.
“What makes you feel the most loved?”
For some reason this question takes more time to respond. Your fingers tap on each knee as you let the answers arrive on their own.
“Calling me petnames, thoughtful gifts, physical affection.”
“Elaborate on physical affection,” he insists. “How do you like to be touched?”
“Uhh…” you fall silent as intimate thoughts flash across your mind.
“S—Stuff like holding hands, cuddling, and…”
You muster the courage to finally meet Lee’s unwavering gaze, and something about it says: It’s just us. We have all night.
Your man pays the growing meekness in your tone no mind, “And how do you want to be made love to?”
You close your thighs while shifting in your seat and Lee notices. He notices everything. So when he finds you struggling to speak, when he finds you squirming amid the cushions, he puts away his phone and scoots close enough for you to smell his expensive cologne.
His arm resting on the couch’s back feels like it’s trapping you in his heat and your breath starts to shallow with need.
“How should I make love to you, flower?”
His deep, lowered tone makes you whip your head to the side. But your boyfriend is having none of that and gently grabs your jaw so you can face him. That piercing stare of his–blazing lust caged by casual self-restraint, simply makes your pussy cry.
“What does my angel want, hm?”
And that’s when it hits you: the realization that you can no longer hide your pleasure or longing from him. This throbbing ache between your legs intensifies with every passing moment, no matter how tightly you keep them shut.
“I can show you better than I can tell you.”
Lee’s eyes widen at your new bout of confidence and rewards you with the sexiest smile you’ve ever witnessed.
Without thinking you crash your lips onto Lee’s, letting his minty breath capture your senses. His feverish groan slips into the kiss because it feels different this time--this sense of urgency, like there’s more to come between you than this heated moment.
The second Lee seamlessly slips his hot tongue into your mouth, your body responds before your mind can--swinging a leg over and straddling his thighs. They’re so thick and sturdy to sit on. Your man’s hands travel down your back until they settle on the pudge of your hips.
“Lower,” you plead between kisses.
His strong, calloused fingers grab greedy handfuls of your ass in a way that curls your toes—kneading and squeezing each cheek with generous reverence. All these sensations; his skillful mouth, his firm hands, how his solid body anchors your unraveling state--they dissolve the last iota of inhibition you cling to. You haven’t been properly taken by a man in years. There’s no going back now.
You grind down on his denim-clad crotch at a growingly fervent pace, anything to assuage the burning arousal inside you. His bulge massages your clothed clit just right with every desperate hump, and a sharp whine pours from your lips. Lee drinks up the sweet sound like water, taking everything you give him while memorizing how delectable your plush thighs feel trapping him.
He feels your hips getting sloppy as they speed up, he feels your breaths getting heavier, listens to the pleasure elevating your voice’s pitch.
Lee abruptly lifts you off his dick and withstands your frustrated cries.
“Let’s take this upstairs, ‘kay princess?”
Lee coos at your pitiful whimpers, at how you tremble in his arms while he carries you to the staircase leading to his main bedroom.
As he walks up the steps, you dig your nose in the crook of his neck and take a deep whiff of his luxurious scent.
Lee feels you litter a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses across the sensitive skin and he smirks to himself at your impassioned state. But when you start sucking a hickey on his pulse? And shamelessly moan at the taste of him? All Lee can do is ignore the painful tightening in his jeans until you’re on that bed.
Your man shuts the door behind him before carefully placing you on his king-sized mattress. Your hands sink into the soft comforter while visually taking in Lee’s most intimate space. The room is unsurprisingly well-organized with just enough personalization to make it lived in. You lean on your elbows and watch Lee drag an armchair to the foot of the bed.
He sits in front of you and manspreads across the seat.
“So how do you want to be taken, my love?”
Although he’s repeated this question several times, that doesn’t make it any less difficult to answer. You swallow the lingering spit in your mouth.
“Uhm—you know,” he watches your eyes wandering again.
“Look, I’m sure you’re a very experienced partner.”
Lee sighs at your attempt to deflect his inquiry.
“I am very experienced,” he leans forward to rest his elbows on each knee.
“But I can’t fuck you the way you deserve unless you talk to me.”
You nibble on your bottom lip, shutting your eyes to process the gravity of his insistence. You know he’s not trying to embarrass you. But his gaze is just too powerful to consciously embrace. The urge to cower from that unshakeable conviction is undeniable.
But I can’t run from him anymore.
“I—I want,” you take a deep breath when the nerves threaten to silence you.
“I want you to eat my pussy. From the back.”
Despite his unbearable boner begging for relief at your words, Lee can’t help but reward you with a warm grin.
“Good girl. I know that was hard,” he praises.
“Let’s get you out of these clothes, yeah?”
You waste no time and shrug off your crop top. Your beloved assists you, hooking his fingers under the band of your shorts and pulling them off.
You finish unclasping your bra until you notice him ogling at your crimson thong, the way it clings to your hips. He slips off the lacy red fabric before shamelessly tucking it in his back pocket. Your jaw drops.
Lee sniggers at your bashful scolding, “Get on all fours for me, gorgeous.”
Your body responds to his gentle command with a quickness. You’re on your hands and knees, inwardly grateful that he can’t see you cringing with mortification.
What if a pube gets in his mouth?!
Lee presses a heavy hand on the small of your back, forming a deep arch so that everything is on display. You gasp at the weight of his palm, the heat of his skin. Your man scoots his chair towards you as closely as possible—making sure he enjoys this meal to the absolute fullest.
God, he doesn’t even know where to start with you. All he knows is that every single inch of you will be tended to by the end of this night.
He begins by letting his hands traverse your calves, watching you flinch at the languid movements. He elevates his focus and massages the fat of your thighs, hypnotized by the silky skin molding under his touch.
And how could he forget your sopping pussy? How could he miss the way your brown, puffy folds glisten with sticky fluid?
“You’re a damn work of art, you know that?”
His tone is teasing but he means every word, your lack of response is proof enough. But he doesn’t need you to speak–-he just needs you to feel.
Lee leans forward to press searing chaste kisses across the supple flesh of your ass. Every sensual peck of his lips leave a blooming trail of goosebumps. He buries his nose in your pubic hair and deeply inhales your scent. He takes another sniff.
So this is what she smells like.
You hide your face in the comforter at the sound of him smelling you. Lee carefully pries your lips apart for a better view of your cunt; the delicate, glistening pink opening contracting with primal need and your boyfriend swoons at the sight.
“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs to himself.
He drinks up your arousal, eyes rolling to the back of his skull at the viscous texture of your nectar. You’re on the verge of demanding him to hurry the hell up. That is, until he plants featherlight kisses on the hood of your engorged clit. He’s so soft to the touch but it’s more than enough to ignite every nerve ending in your body.
And when he finally licks a long, fat stripe from the top of your vulva to the base of your entrance? You are gone. Lee moans into you as your dainty folds grace his taste buds. His mouth is glued to your pussy, lapping up any juices leaking from your entrance. He hears your trembling breaths quicken and it sears into his brain.
“Oh fuck,” you squeal, irrevocably haunted by a pleasure you didn’t know you were capable of feeling.
He takes his time ravaging you; that skilled tongue switching from slow, deliberate licks to light, spontaneous flicks has your legs already shaking. Loud slurping noises from his diligent mouth resonate through the room’s thickening air. He’s even audacious enough to tease your puckered anal ring with the swirl of his tongue. Where’d he learn that move?
“B—Baby, wait. Please,” you whimper, morbidly aware of how embarrassingly close you are to cumming.
You retract your hips to assuage his onslaught of ministrations, but he spanks your left cheek with a sharp palm and snatches you right back into his mouth. In a bout of panic, you grab the nearest pillow to bite into and stifle how pathetically pornographic your moans are.
Lee runs his dull nails over the skin of your soft tummy. When he starts tweaking your nipples until they pebble, your hips move on their own and buck uncontrollably against him. Your man groans to egg you on before dipping his tongue all the way down and inside you.
The sudden stretch combined with his thumb relentlessly rubbing your clit douses you in a soul-shattering orgasm, putting every single one of your past partners to shame. Lee has to hold down your spasming form as the pillow muffles your wanton screams.
That’s it, flower. Take it.
You never intended to gush in his mouth so quickly, but you have no complaints. And as much as Lee wanted to see your face fall apart, hearing you sing so lewdly for him makes up for all that he missed. When you can truly take no more, his lips release your clit with a vulgar “pop”. Your beloved coos at how adorably the swollen bud twitches from faint aftershocks.
While taking a breather, you’re too out of it to notice your beloved undressing. So when you turn to rest on your elbows, you gape at him standing in all his statuesque glory—even if you’ve seen it before. His fingers skillfully tear off a condom wrap before rolling the latex down to the base of his thick girth. What’s left uncovered are his heavy balls.
To cope with how much you need him, you jest “You’re not a one-pump-chump are you?”
Lee huffs a dark chuckle that makes your knees slowly fall open.
“Don’t test me, princess.”
You grin at his playful warning before patting on an empty spot beside you. Lee registers the signal and obeys immediately, leisurely climbing the bed. He snags some pillows and carefully tucks one under your head.
You both face each other, horny and in love. You don’t hide how nervous you are, how your body starts to curl in on itself. And Lee doesn’t hide how happy he is, caressing your face with his knuckles. You scoot closer to him and run your fingers through his black tresses, memorizing the contours of his forehead, his baby hairs, and bushy brows.
He looks even prettier without all that hair in his face.
“I hope I’m the man you’ve been waiting for,” Lee whispers mesmerically.
Because you’re the woman I didn’t even know I was dreaming of.
You trace the edge of his jawline before slowly kissing him, the only way you can respond to such touching words. You throw a tentative leg over his hip, and he wraps a firm arm around your waist to pull you flush against him. The combined skin-to-skin heat is nothing short of electric.
Your toes trace the curve of Lee’s foot up to his lower calf, claiming any canvas of living power you can reach.
You heave lecherously as his leg nudges between your thighs, feeling the toned muscle beneath his smooth skin flex against your bare cunt. You mindlessly hump him to chase the friction. He feels your wetness coating him, your fingers grasping onto his neck and the last of his chipping restraint is too alarming to ignore.
“How should I prep you?” He queries between kisses.
“Don’t need it,” you demand meekly. “Need you inside me.”
“Awww,” Lee kisses his teeth. “You can beg better than that.”
“Please fuck me, Sensei.”
The way you whine those words. The way you call him that name. The way you look like you’re about to cry if he doesn’t split you in half. It is the last straw, his final resolve melting into sweet nothingness.
Lee holds your leg up for more access while you bury your face in the crook of his shoulder—already accustomed to the carnal peace his scent brings you. Lee feels you jolt when the leaking head of his cock prods at your entrance.
This is really happening.
“Just breathe, baby,” he reassures. “Relax for me.”
His flush-red tip swipes at your clit deliciously, you can’t help but grind against it for more. Lee takes this as a sign that your body’s truly ready for him and proceeds accordingly.
The bulbous head slowly pushes through your entrance and your eyes bulge out of your sockets at the stretch. You’re already mewling and Lee coos at you with tempered adoration. You place a hand on his chest but hold him close, ready to push if the sensation is too sharp.
Yet as soon as you manage to swallow his head, a devastated gasp rips its way through you.
“Fucking Christ,” you hurriedly hook your arm underneath his shoulder for support.
Lee feels your nails sink into his skin, and the sting drives him to lower your thigh over his hip, it drives him to massage the dip in your waist and litter kisses across your collar bone. And he doesn’t move an inch, accepting your current limit for what it is until your body says otherwise.
He even pops a tit in his mouth, grumbling voraciously at how the supple mound graces his tongue. He greedily laps at your budding nipple—teasing it with his teeth. He’s so caught up in your softness, but still manages to notice your hips twitching for movement.
So Lee gives you more: languidly sliding a larger fraction of his length inside you and he can’t help but hiss at how your velvet walls swallow him in. He hears you struggle to slow down your labored breaths.
God, he’s too fucking thick!
“…Y—Yeah, m’good,” even though you don’t sound too convincing, your body is in no shape to lie anyway.
Every pulsing vein, every twitch of his cock, it’s stretching your poor cunt to her absolute limit—and Lee can only pray that he’s doing right by you. He prays with every suck, every rub, every word he whispers in your ear.
This is as relaxed as she’s gonna get.
When your beloved feels your hips moving again, he wastes no time and sheathes the rest of his dick inside until your pelvises finally collide. The most anguished, primal sound of need escaping your lips is nothing short of unforgettable. You are so full, so claimed, so ravaged and he hasn’t even fucked you yet.
But you continue breathing just like he told you to, even if you feel like you’re going to combust at any moment.
“I know, sweetness,” Lee purrs hoarsely at your pitiful cries. “I know.”
You both hold each other in silence while he’s balls-deep in you. The stretch comes with a dull burn—which explains your trembling form, but it isn’t unbearable. In fact, the longer you sit with it the more at home his heftiness feels.
All it takes is your clit brushing against him for you to start writhing and sounding like sin. Lee hooks a tactful arm under your knee and lifts it toward him so you can’t escape his movements. Your lover pulls his dick back until the tip teases your silken entrance once more.
The first thrust hits you like a shockwave, such controlled force forming a bulge in your lower tummy. He’s just testing the waters yet you’re already loud, panting, and utterly paralyzed. Your mind draws blanks, pliant body thrashing helplessly in his loving embrace. Every thoughtful, unhurried drive of his hips fucks a high-pitched moan out of you–a byproduct of his tireless commitment.
“You’re doing so good f’me—fuck,” Lee praises through labored breaths.
Your beloved whispers sweet nothings at the sound of your sniffles, kissing away any tears that roll down your cheeks.
If you had to be more honest than you’ve ever been in your entire life, then sharing this moment with this man is all you’ve ever really wanted. Your pride will say otherwise, it’ll say you should want more from existence. But this is a part of your existence, and it stayed dormant–protected–until someone worthy enough could witness it.
The same goes for Lee; you have officially ruined him for everybody else. He’s never going to cherish another soul as deeply as yours. And even though you know he’s ultimately just some guy, you feel like a god is making love to you.
You open your mouth to verbalize how overjoyed you are, but you keep choking on words. So Lee shushes your disoriented babbling.
“Shhh–just feel it, angel,” he drags his lips down the side of your neck and leaves a trail of sloppy kisses over your shoulder. “Just feel it.”
And you do, relishing the way his chiseled abs flex with every lunge. So when you start fucking him back? When you decide to meet his increasingly fervent thrusts halfway, despite how unraveled you are? It drives Sensei into a deeper meditative state–the kind born from pure, animalistic devotion. Like he’s spiraling in you, and he’s bringing you with him.
Abandoning all semblance of restraint, Lee hurriedly pushes you on your back and you yelp at the sudden switch in position: your hips now encased between his strong thighs, your legs hooked over his shoulders, knees pressed against your boobs as his body eclipses you upon the mattress–all so nothing will stop him from giving you everything he has.
His hefty hips mercilessly buck into yours, a wet ‘pap, pap, pap’ echoing through the room every second he hammers his dick inside you. As loud as the creaking bed or shared squelching noises are, it’s your debauched sobs alone tethering Lee to his dwindling sanity. You hold onto his nape for dear life as he fucks you with uninhibited speed, your tits bouncing up and down from the power of each immobilizing thrust.
Lee presses his forehead against yours, his moans growing more desperate and louder by the minute.
“Cum with me,” he whispers raggedly. It sounds like a command and humble plea all at once.
You go quiet when the orgasm seizes you, eyes squeezed shut and mouth hung open as your belly tightens with release. Your man bellows a raspy wail so beautiful, so haunting that the sound reverberates through your bones–permeating your muscle memory. You feel him twitching inside you as large spurts of cum soil the rubber for all it’s worth.
Lee’s movements steadily slow to a stop, and you both catch your breaths through the final waves of ecstasy. When he finally garners the strength to raise his head from your embrace, you’re already asleep–quiet snores wheezing from your mouth.
He blissfully sighs with a tired grin before carefully untangling himself off of you. Your beloved slowly pulls out and silently pads his way to a private bathroom, disposing of the used condom before washing his hands.
Lee returns to you with a damp hand towel, gently wiping away any lingering sweat and discharge without waking you up. When he deems you clean enough, he activates the air conditioning and switches off all lights before joining you in slumber.
It’s the morning after your heated night together. The sun rays shine through vintage windows, cascading your deep complexion with silken warmth. You turn to avoid the light, burying your face in the pillows. Before you could fully slip back into sleep, you feel a dip in the mattress behind you.
You flinch when soft lips peck your shoulder.
Lee’s deep morning voice stirs that familiar heat in you, but you simply groan in response to your disrupted rest.
“I made breakfast,” he coos.
Your boyfriend’s tantalizing bargain makes you turn to face him, and he laughs at how easily tempted you are by food. He decides to lay beside you, watching how your eyes squint at the luminous space before zeroing in on him; he’s shirtless, just rocking some simple briefs that look so effortlessly hot on him.
“Hi,” you greet with a sleepy grin.
“Hey, baby,” his own smile is wider and giddier. ”Did you enjoy last night?”
You sigh as the memories crash down on you like a waterfall. You shake your head in disbelief.
Lee chuckles at your honesty, because he feels the same way.
“Me too. You’re such a delight, y’know that?”
You nibble on your bottom lip at his unabashed affection, shyly nodding your head in agreement.
Lee inhales deeply, processing how to articulate the confession sitting at the tip of his tongue.
“...I dreamt of you during my coma.”
Your eyes widen at his revelation, at the recollection of that tournament and what it put his body through.
“What did I do in the dream?”
Lee hums as those past images claim his vision.
“You sat in this flower garden, wearing a pretty white dress. You watered the plants.”
Something warm in your chest swells at the tenderness behind his words.
“Wanna tell me all about it during breakfast?”
Lee reaches to caress your cheek with his thumb, “I’d love to.”
Since your washed clothes are spinning in a dryer, you adorn yourself with one of Lee’s satin robes. You both head downstairs, basking in the delicious aroma of his homemade meal.
Author's Note: Damn, I actually finished this series. I've been working on this passion project for two years, since my junior year of high school. I didn't know exactly how this story would unfold, I just let the God within show me as I wrote. Nirvana is how I alchemized my pain, longing, and joy for literature. Thank you to everyone who's supported and/or read this fic, and I am even more grateful if you've made it this far. I hope I can make at least one person feel the way my favorite authors have made me feel. Our patience has finally been rewarded! :3
This work belongs solely to ©️ blimbosworlddd. Do not plagiarize, steal, copy or repost. I worked very hard on this; reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated.
