REPOST

baesketballers:

reposted because I can’t delete a friggin reply

Anonymous said: hey can I
get nsfw Kagami where he and his s/o fight because of s/o’s fault and she walks
out on him, Kagami felt guilty and worried and went after her and it starts
raining into the night, he finds her surrounded by thugs and saves her,
afterward they went home and have makeup sex

---

Okay
I’m gonna tweak this if you don’t mind! Also please note that this is the last
request from the previous askbox, and not part of the 12 asks I plan on picking
for Christmas/New Year!

Reminder: that I’m available
for commissions and
please turn off best stuff first!

Female!Reader
ahead.

---

When
the door slammed shut, all memory of what happened seemed to evaporate to thin
air. Even now, fifteen minutes after you stormed out of Kagami’s apartment, he
is still thinking about what led you to argue like that. It was not nice, not
at all nice, and he winces at the memory. Heated conversation turned into
shouting. He remembers your face and your reddened eyes, the way tears stream
down your face as you whisper out the words that cut him deep.

“Your
face is the last thing I want to see right now.”

He
murmurs expletives as he looks at the clock, indicating how late and dark the
night is already. Though the skies disclose nothing as it approaches midnight,
he senses the cool winds sweeping into the living room through open windows.
It’s going to rain soon, he realizes, and he doesn’t know where you are at. The
phone in his hand is bright, the only source of light in the room and the only
way to reach you, but he fails to do so. He isn’t surprised, but is still
disappointed that you won’t pick up the phone.

Hearing
the low but loud rumble of thunder from outside, Kagami curses one last time,
grabbing a jacket before running out of the house into the dark.

---

A
mile away, you’re clutching at your dead phone as you glare into a man’s eyes.

Out
of the frying pan and into the fire, one might say. You really did not expect
thugs to be around, but you admit internally that I was your fault for thinking
so and letting your guard down. It’s probably around midnight already, of
course there are bound to be a group or two hanging around the nearby
neighborhood. 

“C’mon, just one bar, I promise.”

Like
you can keep your word, pal, you resist the urge to scoff and instead
try to walk past him. He’s probably a couple of years older than you, his build
is towering and intimidating, though it doesn’t seem like he works out. You
find yourself thinking about how to take him out in a fist fight—impossible,
you deduce, despite your ability to pack a punch. He’s just going to brush it
off.

“I
said no,” you say in a clipped tone. When a hand grips your forearm, you
freeze. He’s close, you don’t need to feel his breath on you to know.

“I’ll
buy you a drink and all that,” he chuckles dryly and you fail to see the humor
in the situation. Footsteps fall behind you. “Found a plaything for us
tonight, boys,” he says again, this time with his face away from you. You’re
thankful he can’t see you clench your teeth at the arrival of his company.

“Let
her go.”

You
turn your head so fast to look behind you. Kagami stands there, behind the
two-three people obviously associated with the guy who’s got a hold on you. A
weird mix of emotions rush through you, but they are mostly relief blended with
guilt, like you’re happy to see him but you don’t want to see him at the same time.

“You never told me you got a date,
babe,” he coos at you sickeningly after getting a good look at your latest
guest. The man pushes you forward, your staggering footsteps bringing you
straight to Kagami without a single interference from the other thugs. They
probably know better—anyone can see the hint of muscle underneath his jacket
and the tank top he’s wearing. He might not be an experienced fighter, this you
know, but they only need to think he is.

“If
you ever touch her again—”

“Yeah,
yeah, you’re gonna fuck me up or whatever,” the leader of the group declares,
waving dismissively at the two of you. The sudden disinterest can only be a
facade for embarrassment. Fear, even. They only act bored to run. The man turns
to you one last time.

“You’re
lucky Romeo came for you, babe,” he purrs, and you feel your skin crawl at the
sight of his smirk, “but if you wanna have a good time—”

Kagami
turns you around and away from the man, leading you by the hand into a light
jog. His blood boils at the way you have been treated and ogled at, and he just
wants to wash that man’s stare off your body. 

There
is a flash of lightning before the two of you feel the light shower, and Kagami
takes off his jacket for your cover in time for the pour that follows immediately
after. The two of you aren’t lucky enough to evade the downpour and reach home
only almost ten minutes later, soaked to the bone.

“I’m
sorry,” you say simultaneously to the door closing. Something inside you makes
you feel scared about saying those words. You hope he doesn’t hear you, but you
know better. Kagami leads you to the bedroom.

“Let’s
get changed.”

Kagami
undresses, not bothering to close the door, but you’re still paralyzed with
guilt as the memories of the fight resurface. Not even his damp, bare skin can
distract you from the thoughts. Kagami sighs, dumping the tank top and his
shorts into the hamper at the corner of the room, leaving him only in a pair of
black boxer shorts that looks like an incredibly tight fit.

“You’re wet,” his voice is low, laced
with something you refuse to give in to but want to an unknown extent. Those
simple words sound so dirty though you know he is referring to
your state after running under the rain. You hear the drip,
drip of
water from your hair onto the floorboard. He takes a step forward. Two. 

Then
his hands are on your blouse, unbuttoning it ever so slowly.

“I’m
sorry, too,” he whispers.

You
cup his face and yank him into a deep kiss, a result of desperation and lust,
or maybe something more than that. You’re still peeved at the way you fought
earlier—arguments like that are rare in your relationship—and you remind
yourself to incite another more civilized conversation with him, but later.
Later, after the two of you finish ravaging each other. Right now, you think as
you run your hands up and down his slick torso, you want him to fill you up, to
hurt you, to tell you he’s yours and you his, to bite you, to touch you. 

You
want him to love you.

“You
are the only thing I want right now.”

Just as amazing as the first time 😉! I love your depth of emotion in very simplistic description. You pour so much into your pieces and even though I know it isn’t, you make it seem easy because your prose flows so well!