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draguta · 1 year

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.a court of fate and fortune | one.

pairing: lucien vanserra x fem!reader

summary: | book two | lovers separated, powers that won't be controlled, a doomed wedding. with the threat of war looming over prythian, lucien, Y/N, tamlin, and rhysand's inner circle must scramble to find allies and prepare themselves for what is to come. but Y/N only has one aim; to find her way back to lucien, and protect him at all costs.

chapter warnings: smut, 18+, minors dni, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering

chapter word count: 3747

a/n: chapter one of our sequel! yessssss! (side note: forgot to add my taglist for the entirety of a court of ash and smoke, so we're back with the taglist for the sequel lol) for this series i will be posting if and when chapters are ready rather than on a schedule (i'm moving across the world this month so keeping up with a schedule is going to be hard)

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Missing

Hands caressed bodies. Some falling to the hair of the other, tangling and twisting at the roots. Some pressed against chests, rising and falling with laboured breathing. Some travelling down, past the point of no return, to where each of you needed it the most. His lips were on my neck, sucking at that spot just under your ear that made your head fall back in pleasure, made your toes curl in anticipation.

“I missed you so much,” he said as his lips traced lower, over your collarbone, nipping slightly at the skin there, down past the crevice between your breasts, turning to pull each nipple into his mouth. The only sounds that you could form were breathy moans, whispers of his name, a pleading to show you just how much he had missed you.

A hand pressed down over your dripping heat, the heel of his palm pressing fervently to that spot that caused you to shudder irrationally. Then a finger was dipping inside, bringing with it a wave of pleasure unlike any you had experienced before. Time made the heart grow fonder, and distance made the pleasure grow stronger.

“How perfect you are,” he whispered against your skin, breath hot as lips caught with each movement of his hand inside you. “How perfectly made, just for me.”

Because you had been made for him. And he for you.

His fingers disappeared, and you whined at the loss. Until, that is, you felt his tip nudge against you, gathering your wetness. His forehead pressed against yours, and as he pushed in, the pure euphoric bliss almost overwhelming, you allowed your eyes to open. They caught his in a second, and you didn’t let them go. You watched every ounce of pleasure that etched itself into the colour of his eyes.

One russet. One golden.

“Never leave me again,” he said, voice almost breaking.

“I will never leave you,” was your reply. And you knew that was the truth.

“I love you,” he huffed out, close to a beg, as if he were pleading for you to accept it, to let him love you. Little did he know that you had accepted it a long time ago with open arms. “My mate.”

His mate.

Your mate.

You woke with a start, so fast that you could barely grasp your surroundings. Your skin was hot, clammy and sweaty, and there was a fire burning in the pit of your stomach, one that you doubted could be doused in any kind of water.

There was only one way to put out those flames, to dull them to nothing more than embers. Only one person. But he wasn’t there, he never was. That dream wasn’t real, a monstrous lie told by your own traitorous mind to keep you from going crazy. From losing it entirely. Your mattress was cold, your bed empty, and your heart aching for that one soul that you couldn’t see.

The door swung itself open, revealing the High Lord of the Night Court himself leaning against the door frame, hands in his pockets. “Again?” He asked. You could do nought but nod, running a hand through your sweat-drenched hair. He meandered inside, closing the door behind him, and perched on the end of your bed. He could no doubt scent the arousal in the air, but he didn’t comment on it - he never did. That was an unspoken rule between you.

He mourned the curse-breaker. You mourned the emissary. And you did so, each and every night, in each other’s company. You never spoke of it, never discussed the things that hunted your nightmares or his, but you were there for each other when the ones you both really wanted could not be. So you would sit, curled up in front of the fire, tea appearing before you as a courtesy of the very house that you lived in. And you would wallow in silence.

Dreaming of your mates.

Fate was a fickle thing.

You had never been one to believe in fate. For as long as you could remember you had scoffed at the idea that there was some higher power setting out a plan for your life. You preferred the idea that the things that happened to you were the outcome of a butterfly effect; that a decision you had made, however long ago, had led you to that particular moment, for whatever reason that may be. It wasn’t fate leading you there; it wasn’t the Cauldron or the Mother making those decisions on your behalf. It was you. Your strength. Your determination. Your courage. Your conscious choices.

Although you knew that choice wasn’t something that everyone was granted without hesitation. You weren’t given the choice to become High Fae. You weren’t given the choice to keep these powers. And you weren’t given the choice to have Lucien as your mate, although you would have chosen him regardless.

Even as a child you clung to the belief that your life was solely controlled by you. But that had been before, when you were mortal, naïve, and had thought the span of your world lay within the confines of your family’s estate in the Mortal Lands. When you’d assumed that the farthest you would ever go would be the village market, that you would never venture past the Wall, and that the male you cared for the most would be that of your blood brother, Arleon.

You knew better now.

How strange, how quickly things can change.

You could only assume that it hadn’t been your own decisions that had ultimately led you to where you were. You could only hope. Because the idea that every step you had been forced to take, every path you had been pushed to follow, was somehow due to something you had done, was all-but sickening to you.

Every life lost. Every battle fought in that cold, cavernous mountain. Every memory that haunted your each and every waking moment.

Every dream of him.

But that was the thing, you supposed; it had been worth it, you were certain of that. Whether it had been fate, or the will of the Cauldron and the Mother, or your own choices alone, those steps had brought you here, to Velaris. They had found you Feyre, had taken you to Prythain in the first place. And they had united you with Lucien, even if he was not so very far away.

It was all worth it.

Weeks had passed since Rhysand had first brought you there. The Night Court had been nothing at all as you had been expecting. When you had pictured torture chambers, instead sat plush bedrooms and studies and libraries. Where you had imagined the streets run red with the blood of victims, you had alternatively found cobblestone streets where the laughter of children bounced and echoed from the walls. It all seemed so lively. No bloodshed. No pain. Just pure, undiluted happiness radiating from the very streets of this city. How wrong those rumours in the Spring Court had been.

You had found yourself feeling strangely at home there, and you were certain that it wasn’t solely because of the city itself, but rather because of the people that you had found yourself surrounded with there. The Inner Circle of Rhysand’s court, his brothers, his cousin, and that terrifying black-haired female, had all welcomed you, regardless of where you had come from, and who your brother was.

Tamlin. You would have been lying if you said his name hadn’t crossed your mind on more than one occasion since your arrival there. You wondered if he might have been looking for you, if he knew who had taken you in the first place, if he had worked out that you had come willingly. That you had wanted to leave him behind. It was the least that he had deserved.

Perhaps Lucien had told him of your letter. No, surely Lucien wouldn’t do such a thing, not when that letter had been for his eyes and his eyes only. You hadn’t felt the need to include that; you knew all too well that he would understand the implication without it needing to be explained.

Lucien. Cauldron, how you missed him. Your entire body ached for him, for his touch. Each and every night he would visit you, and his hands would caress your body, his lips would brush against your skin, and everything would feel so right once more. Until you woke up, that is, and realised that it had all been in your head. That bond inside you, the one that was still entirely one-sided, that tied you to him, drew you back to him, to find him and never leave his side again. But you knew that you couldn’t. Not until you knew that you were no longer a threat to him, and for that you would risk missing those days with him. For that you would risk him falling back into resentment against you for leaving. You would never hurt him, even if it meant he hated you for it.

Your training had been going well. Each and every morning was spent in the ring at the House of Wind going over your manoeuvres with Cassian, who seemed more than impressed by how much you had already managed to grasp in the short time that you had been training. You cited Silas - your teacher - as the sole reason for that, although Cassian had been quick to shoot down the idea.

“Nah, that’s all you,” he had said, thumping you hard on the shoulder. Not hard enough to leave a bruise, but rough that it left a lingering pain.

Your afternoons were usually spent with Rhys going over the training of your powers. Even in just the few short weeks that you had been practising, you had already managed to get a grip on how to swell and shrink your power if and when you needed it - to bring it to the forefront and hide it away to lie in wait, only at your non-verbal command. Loosely was the optimal word, however; you still hadn’t quite perfected it just yet.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Rhys’ crooning tone sounded from behind you. He had found you in the spot that you seemed to have taken residence in more than anywhere else during those first weeks. The very corner of the balcony where you had spotted your first glimpse of Velaris, where the stone met at a point, providing you with the perfect place to lean into and simply look out upon the city that so few dared to venture into. Rhysand copied your stance, bringing his forearms up to rest against the stone of the railing, clasping his hands together, violet gaze trained on you. “You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?”

“I’m never not thinking about him,” you admitted, refusing to meet his stare for fear that, should you see those eyes filled with a knowing sympathy, the very walls that you had built to keep yourself guarded might crumble, leaving you a weeping mess at his feet. You hadn’t divulged to him that Lucien was your mate - hadn’t even mentioned that you loved him - but Rhysand had garnered that there was at least something there, some sort of feeling that made you ache for him the way that you did.

“I know a little of what that feels like,” he said, his lips pulling into a sorrowful smile. And there you remained, as you had for so many nights, standing in silence, lonely but not alone, staring out across the city that he called home.

Mourning those you could not have.

The Spring Court had never felt so…empty. It bustled around Lucien at a never-ending pace, preparations readying for what Ianthe had begun calling the wedding of the century. Everyone was in high spirits - even Tamlin, to a degree. That stoic demeanour was still just as it had been on the day Y/N had left, yet there was a glimmer in his eye at the thought of what lay ahead. A lifetime with the female he loved.

Lucien couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy that ricocheted through him at the very idea.

Feyre, he had noticed, seemed to be the only person who wasn’t excited for the upcoming nuptials. Well, the only person besides himself. She had closed herself off, more so with Y/N’s departure to the Night Court. It had left her with no one, not really. She had Tamlin, and his arduous mood swings, and Ianthe who seemed to be trying to paint her into the portrait of an obedient High Lord’s wife. And she had him, but he couldn’t deny that his heart simply wasn’t in it anymore.

There was no more teasing from him, no more humoured lilt in his tone when he spoke to her. He too, it would seem, had become closed off since Y/N had left, for a different reason, of course.

Because his heart longed to be with her, to be near her, and no matter what distractions he might find for himself - training with Silas and the sentinels, or heading out on hunts, or lending a hand to Tamlin with the court’s paperwork - that need for her never dissipated. It was always there, bubbling under the surface.

Tamlin hadn’t given up searching for her. Sentinels had scoured every inch of the Spring Court in search of anything, and Lucien himself had been sent to damn-near every court in the hopes of retrieving her safely, or of at least finding a clue as to where she might actually be. Lucien knew, of course, although he wouldn’t share that information with his High Lord. He knew for certain that it was Rhysand and his Night Court goons who had ‘supposedly’ stolen her away in the night. Tamlin knew that too, although he was woe to believe it; he had scented that male in her room that night, and had pieced the puzzle together. Silas had even said as much, having stated with such conviction that it had been them. But Tamlin knew better than to go storming into the Night Court and risk starting an all-out war between courts without proof that she was even there, and Lucien was doing everything he could to make sure that didn’t happen.

And so, it remained, Y/N in the Night Court, Lucien in the Spring Court; two lovers trapped miles, and multiple courts and territories apart. Tamlin continued scouring every book that held any information about the laws of Prythian, and still sent his sentinels out in search of clues. Lucien kept his friend distracted from invading Night Court lands, did his best to keep Tamlin focused on the Spring Court and Feyre and the upcoming wedding. And the best that he was able to do was dream of her, to think of her when he closed his eyes, and to imagine that she was there by his side.

He felt her in every Spring breeze blowing the scent of jasmine and lavender from the gardens; her scent. He felt her in every kiss of sunlight that fell against his skin as warm as her lips, every click of blade against blade when he sparred with the sentinels. In the birds that chirped that reminded him of that night Under the Mountain when they had stared out of that little window in his chambers for hours. In every smile that he saw plastered onto the faces of passing village fae, beaming and glowing and beautiful.

He felt her everywhere, except beside him.

“That was good,” Rhys said with a small chuckle. “Although next time, please try not to go for my face. You nearly took my head off.”

You rolled your eyes and unwrapped your legs from their seated position. You had been at it for hours, trying to get your powers to reveal themselves in a non-threatening way. Rhys had said that this was the obvious next step - to learn how to let them out, to breathe, even when there wasn’t a threat. Until now, it would seem that anytime you let your powers out, they would immediately lunge for whomever else was present, as if their sole reasoning for being was to kill. And all of your previous lessons had forced Rhys to place a protection shield around himself. But now, it would seem, he was willing to take the risk. Perhaps he trusted you enough now to not let them hurt him. You weren’t sure you trusted yourself with that though. Until that point, the only person that the red smoke hadn’t tried to harm was you.

You had been perched on the rooftop of the House of Wind, away from any civilisation that may have been caught in any destruction your power might have made should it not go to plan, for what seemed like forever. Every ticking second only stood to remind you of how little you really knew or understood of these powers, and how little you were able to control them. They had already lunged for Rhysand well over ten times, and you could only assume that they would try again.

“It’s not working,” you muttered, wrapping your arms around yourself to protect from the sharp chill of the mountaintop. “It’s pointless. I’m never going to be able to control these fucking powers.”

Rhys frowned. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit. These powers that you have are strong, and the way that you’re able to wield them already, to let them out and reel them back in on command, is already showing a lot of restraint.”

“Not enough. They still try to kill you every time.”

Rhys sighed, rising to his feet and shoving his hands in his pockets, allowing his shoulders to shrug ever-so-slightly. “We’ve not been doing this for long. You need to have patience.”

“Because it’s not going to happen overnight, right?” You scoffed, echoing the words that he had told you countless times already, spinning on your heel to look back at him. His lips went thin in what you could only assume was pity.

“Exactly,” he affirmed. “You think I was able to control my powers immediately? No, it took me centuries to get this kind of grip on them, and even still, there are aspects that I haven’t perfected.”

You winced. Centuries. Centuries away from Lucien. You weren’t sure you could make it that long without him. You were sure you would go mad from want long before that. “I just feel…useless,” you admitted, kicking at the snow on the rooftop with the toe of your boot. Rhysand sighed once more, moving to clap a hand on your shoulder.

“You’re definitely not useless,” he said quietly. “Have more trust in yourself than that. I know that you’re eager to get it right, but don’t push yourself.”

“What would you suggest instead?” You asked with a raised eyebrow. He chuckled, turning and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you back toward the door. You relished in the warmth that his arm provided; it seemed any training that you had been doing was finished, for now.

“Patience,” he said again. He looked at you from the corner of his eye, watched the way your shoulders slumped, and your breath clouded in front of you as you exhaled deeply. “I have to admit, these few weeks I’ve been watching you train, I’ve noticed some similarities between your powers and Azriel’s shadows. They’re not the same, far from it, but they act in a similar way. Maybe he could be of some help to us.”

The only thing you could do was nod.

Patience. You had to be patient. But if you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t sure how long that patience could last.

It was quite a scene, really, that Lucien had stumbled across. He rarely found himself in the rose garden - preferred to leave it as a place for Tamlin, a place where he could feel closer to his mother. But for some reason, in the weeks since Y/N had left, he had found himself drawn to that little rose garden, the flowers that bloomed there year-round reminding him of her. Of the rose he had gifted her for Solstice that had been more of a jibe against her than a real gift.

He regretted that now.

But as he wandered the gravelled path, the little stones crunching and sinking beneath each step of his boots, his eyes fell on Feyre. Her familiar haunch was perched on the edge of one of the stone benches. Lucien couldn’t deny in that moment that she looked rather angelic - golden-brown hair amidst blood-red roses. The scene would be like that of one of the paintings that Feyre loved so much, if it hadn’t been for her ghostly pale skin, paper-like from endless days trapped in the house.

As he grew closer, he noticed that she held a rose in her hand, twirling it between her fingers. Each thorn was gone, ripped from the stem with what he thought looked like almost angry intent.

He cleared his throat, and she looked up, catching his eye in surprise.

“Didn’t think I’d find you out here,” he said, finally coming to a stop at the bench and taking a seat beside her, stretching his legs out straight against the gravel.

“I could say the same thing,” she muttered with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She drew in a sigh, turning away from him and glancing back down to the rose in her hand, to the way it twirled, the sunlight bouncing off each petal. “I wish Y/N was here.”

Lucien blinked slowly. “Me too.”

“She loves you. You know?” Her words were so quiet, almost a whisper, barely audible above the gentle breeze that rustled the leaves above. Lucien wondered, for a second, if the words were being uttered without her permission or forethought.

“I know,” he replied as gently as he could.

“She’s lucky.” He watched as Feyre tossed the rose back into the bush, turning in her seat to stare at him intently. “Don’t let her forget how important she is.”

Lucien opened his mouth to speak, but before he had the chance, she was rising to her feet and floating back down the gravel toward the manor in eerie silence.

Lucien didn’t stop her.

Taglist

Complete: | @loveshineslikethesky | @elleclairez | @lostpirateinwonderland |

Lucien Vanserra: | @luna-foxglove |

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capseycartwright · 1 year

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if you're looking for love, wait and you'll find me

buck joins eddie and christopher at the beach, and he and eddie have a conversation about sperm donation, fatherhood, and the importance of honesty.

a 6x07 coda of sorts.

ao3 link

The salt felt crisp, in Eddie’s hair as he sat, the Pacific Ocean stretching on as far as the eye could see in front of him. He had never been much of a beach person – but he was realising, in the years since he’d moved to Los Angeles, that he’d never had much of an opportunity to be a beach person. There was something indescribably relaxing about the way the waves lapped against the shore, the sound a gentle backing track to the day, families slowly packing up for the day as the afternoon turned to the evening.

Eddie had time.

That was something he was still getting used to – giving himself time and allowing himself to enjoy the slow afternoons he got to share with his son like this. Christopher was happily playing in the sand, his curls still wet from his latest dip in the sea, and Eddie didn’t have the heart to end their day out just yet: not when his son was laughing and the sun was, well, not so high in the sky anymore, but not quite touching the horizon yet, the water golden as the sun made its descent.

“Hi.”

Eddie twisted in his chair, squinting as he realised it was Buck – his friend towering over Eddie and his set of deck chairs. “Hi,” he returned. Eddie was – well, he liked to think he was fluent, in Buck, these days, and Buck definitely seemed quiet, turned in on himself as he settled, trying to fold his miles of leg underneath him, collapsing – rather gracelessly – into the striped chair. “I didn’t think you were going to join us,” he gestured vaguely toward the setting sun. Eddie had told Buck that morning that he was planning to take Christopher to the beach – those first few times, after the tsunami, Christopher would only go if Buck was there. He’d progressed past that, healed, Eddie knew, but that didn’t mean the invitation wasn’t always extended to his best friend.

Eddie could admit he – and his son – were generally happier when Buck was around.

“I almost didn’t,” Buck admitted, slumping in his chair. He looked tired – and the red-rimmed eyes he was sporting made Eddie think that Buck hadn’t exactly had the best day, since their shift had ended that morning.

“What made you change your mind?” Eddie asked, nudging a bottle of water toward Buck. He looked like he needed something stronger, frankly, but Eddie’s cooler could only offer water, and juice boxes. Maybe – maybe a juice box, would be better, Eddie decided, taking advantage of Buck’s lack of attention to root in the cooler, pressing a mango juice box into Buck’s confused hands. “You look like you need sugar,” he said, by way of explanation.

Buck gave him a grateful smile. It was endearingly hilarious, Eddie decided, to watch a grown man – and a particularly large grown man, at that – unwrap the tiny straw that came with the juice boxes Christopher favoured, massive hands stabbing the tiny, delicate straw into the top of the pouch. Buck took a sip, and then another, and then one more, before he finally spoke.

“I needed a friend,” he explained. “Whenever my head feels like this, you’re the only person I want to talk to.”

Eddie couldn’t stop the way his heart swelled a little, in his chest. There was something so special about the way Buck so casually affirmed the importance of having Eddie in his life – it made Eddie feel needed, and purposeful, in ways he was only beginning to understand the reasoning for. Being a father – it had always given Eddie a purpose, even when he wasn’t ready for it – but his relationship with Buck was different. It was a different kind of purpose, and one he hoped he would get to have for the rest of his life.

But – that was a conversation for a different day.

“You know you can always talk to me,” Eddie reminded - because he knew, from personal experience, sometimes you needed reminding that even those closest to you were still willing to listen. You didn’t always believe it when you were having a tough time. Eddie knew that too.

“Are you mad, that I spoke to Hen, and not you?” Buck’s tone was almost childlike.

“No,” Eddie’s brow furrowed. “Why would I be?”

“I don’t know,” Buck squirmed in his chair, the metal squeaking. “I always talk to you.”

“You do,” Eddie hummed. “Eventually,” he grinned. “I know you’ll talk to me when you’re ready. I figured – well, I figured there was a reason you went to Hen first. You are allowed to have other friends, remember?” he knocked his ankle against Buck, managing to rouse a smile from the other man.

“Do you think it’s a bad idea, to be a sperm donor?” Buck asked – straight to the point, then. Eddie had wondered – sometimes, Buck was prone to talking around the root of the problem for ages, leaving Eddie to have to dig, and dig, to find out what was really wrong.

“No,” Eddie said, definitive. “I think it’s a beautiful thing, to want to help someone who is struggling to conceive. It – it’s a really selfless thing to do, whether its for someone you know, or strangers. I know that if I was in Connor’s position, I’d be really grateful for what you’re doing. It’s – it’s a good thing to do.”

“But?”

“There’s no but,” Eddie shrugged. “Sperm donation – egg donation – it’s all a really cool thing to do. Being a dad,” he glanced toward Christopher, who was still happily entertained by the castle he was making. Eddie sort of never wanted him to grow up. “Is the greatest privilege of my life. Wanting to help give someone that, give them a child – that’s an incredible thing to do, for anyone.”

Buck pulled a face. “There still feels like there’s a but coming, Eddie.”

Not a but, no – a consideration. That’s what Eddie would explain it as if Buck asked.

“I know you’ve considered – and gone through – the physical side of things, and how that might affect you,” Eddie paused. “But have you considered the mental impact of doing this? The – well, the emotional affect it’ll have on you, it’s more significant than I think you’ve given it credit for, Buck. I admire the fact you want to help – but I don’t want you to hurt yourself in the name of helping someone else.”

Buck was quiet, for a second. “Hen asked, if I was ready to be a father, and walk away,” he parroted. “And that – that’s kind of what this is, isn’t it? I’ll be a father, genetically at least, but I won’t be a part of the kid’s life: aside from being the fun uncle they see once every couple of years.”

“Do you think you could handle being the fun uncle, knowing that the kid is biologically a part of you?”

“Jeez – ask the hard questions why don’t you?”

Eddie grinned. “That’s why you’re talking to me, Buck.”

“I – I know that family is so much more than biology,” Buck said, Eddie not missing the quick, darting glance that Buck made in Christopher’s direction. “I know that, I really do. My biological parents – they’re shit, you know that. I know that family is about people who love you, really, truly love you, despite everything you are, and aren’t.”

“But?” Eddie prompted – because there was definitely a but, he knew that much.

“But,” Buck offered Eddie a soft, sad smile. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to deal with knowing there’s a kid walking around in the world with my DNA who’s life I don’t have any part in. You know?”

Eddie knew. Eddie didn’t know everything – but he knew Buck, and he knew the kind of person that Buck was, and he knew first-hand the kind of father that Buck was. From the moment he’d become a part of Christopher’s life, Buck had been dedicated, and interested, giving up evenings and weekends for all sorts of school and kid related activities. He’d done all that for Eddie’s kid – long before Eddie’s kid was their kid – and so Eddie knew what kind of father Buck would be.

And he knew that was why it was probably a bad idea for Buck, specifically Buck, to be a sperm donor.

“You need to tell Connor, and his wife,” Eddie tried to be gentle, as he spoke – he didn’t want to sound as though he was berating Buck for anything. He sort of knew why Buck was so insistent on helping his friend, even at the determinant of his own well-being. That was just who Buck was.

“How? How can I tell them that I – that I don’t think I can do this, after promising them I could help them?” Buck sounded frustrated, upset as he shook his head.

“You have to be honest with them,” Eddie urged. “Buck – listen, they’re in a rough spot, and I get that you want to help them, but there are other ways for them. Okay? There are other people they could ask – there’s anonymous sperm donors. It’ll be okay.”

“I just – they asked me,” Buck managed, his bottom lip quivering in that same way that Christopher’s did, when he was on the verge of tears. It was funny, really, how parenting worked – Christopher wasn’t biologically Buck’s, and by many people’s standards, that meant he wasn’t his father: but Eddie could see Buck in his son more and more every day, in the way Christopher was bright, and silly, and kind – and in the way that his lip wobbled just like Buck’s was doing now.

“And that – that’s an honour,” Eddie reassured. “But it doesn’t mean you’re obliged to do it, Buck.”

Buck was quiet, for a minute. “I just – I guess that if I can’t have what I want, I thought I could help give it to them.”

Eddie sort of wanted to yell – to turn to Buck and promise him that he did have everything he wanted, and it was right there on Santa Monica beach: he had Christopher, he had a son, and he had Eddie. God – did he have Eddie. He was welcome to have Eddie in any way he wanted, and Eddie wished – and wished, and wished – that Buck wanted Eddie the way that Eddie wanted him, rings on fingers and whispered ‘I love yous’ pressed into every inch of each other’s skin, but Eddie knew this wasn’t the right moment for this conversation.

Buck wasn’t ready – even if Eddie himself might be.

“You need to be honest with yourself,” Eddie said. “And then you need to be honest with Connor, and Kameron. Before it’s too late.”

Buck chewed on the side of his mouth, nodding, furiously blinking as he tried to hold back his tears. “Not today though. Right?” he sounded childlike, as he spoke, holding tightly to his half-empty juice box.

Eddie glanced out at the horizon, the sun a little closer to the horizon – but not quite there yet, the sea sparkling warm and golden. “No, not today,” he hummed in agreement. “Today – I think we can just stay here a little while longer.”

They had time; Eddie knew.

(Of course they did –

It wasn’t their time yet, but their time was coming soon, Eddie knew, and once the sun finally set beyond the horizon, they’d be one day closer. And that was enough for now.)

#911 fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #in which i ramble #in which lorna writes fic #she rises from the dead with a weird af coda thats not a coda maybe its a missing scene #anyway enjoy

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cavalierious-whim · 11 months

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Eons later, they are still in love. Written for Our Last Epiphany, a NSFW ZhongXiaoZhong Zine.

You can also read here on AO3 for better quality. If you enjoy my content, be sure to follow me on Twitter as well, and consider supporting me on Patreon!

It’s strange, the way that his muscles ache despite not having fought a battle.

Xiao hasn’t conjured his lance in what feels like decades but when he tallies up the years, he realizes that it hasn’t been just centuries, it’s been nearly an eon.

Time is so strange for an adeptus. It isn’t that they don’t age or feel the effects of that time, it’s that the scale is just different. A blink and the world is different, the people are different, and the stars in the sky aren’t the same.

There’s a shuffle behind him and Zhongli’s arms slip around his middle, his chin dropping to Xiao’s shoulder. He never really got taller but he’s filled out a little in the years that have passed. Even so, Zhongli has to dip low, leaning over him.

“What are you thinking about,” asks Zhongli, his deep baritone seeping with tired sleepiness.

“My hip’s bothering me.” Xiao sighs. “Nothing too terrible but…” He waves vaguely.

“Hm. I remember when the aches started. It isn’t fun and it doesn’t get much better.”

Xiao sneers. “Fantastic.”

Zhongli chuckles and presses a kiss to his neck, his teeth just barely nipping at the skin there. “Come on, it’s a nice day. Let’s spend it together.” Then, he leaves him, slipping back into their room.

They don’t get many days like this, quiet ones where the breeze is just right. Despite having all the time in the world, it always feels as though they have none. Xiao still wanders and pays his karmic debt, but the grudges of fallen Gods have weakened. Rarely is his hand needed nowadays.

He still feels it, though, how the weight of that debt tugs at his being. It aches nearly as much as his tired and aging body that twinges. Xiao rubs an elbow idly.

Still, things are good. Exactly what he wants. Sunlit afternoons spent reading books and papers while draped across a couch in the ancient Wangshu Inn. Lazy nights in front of a fire, listening to Zhongli snore. Liyue has changed so much and technology has flourished, but the Inn has hung on stubbornly, its antiquated visage something of pride.

They occupy the topmost floor and are left alone. The Goldet family still feeds him their famous almond tofu, even now.

Once, Xiao thought he’d never find peace. He still wonders if this is what it is. Xiao always has one foot rooted in uncertainty.

“Xiao?” Zhongli’s head pops around the corner. He’s dressed in a plain cotton shirt and trousers.

Warmth fills Xiao’s chest at the sight of him. Perhaps he’s closer to peace than he thinks. “Let’s stay in,” he says softly. “We’ll rest and read on the balcony, and share pot after pot of tea. I know it isn’t much, but—”

“It sounds perfect.” Zhongli’s voice is warm with affection. He watches Xiao, his eyes crinkled with fine lines of age. Still so handsome, especially now.

Xiao smiles back.

They do exactly that and it’s nothing but sweet indulgence that’s rooted deeply in each other. Zhongli lays on their porch couch, Xiao’s back to his chest.

With the centuries has come innovation. Technology rules an era where there’s so little nature left. Xiao misses the bygone ages when he could see clifftops and rolling hills as far as his eyes could manage. Now, his eyes are shit; all he sees are the blurred edges of sparkling highrises.

Zhongli holds open a book with yellowed pages and years of stains. His arms are wrapped around Xiao’s waist as they read it together.

It’s a collection of dusty old quotes, selected portions of popular stories through the centuries. Zhongli is rather attached to it. “‘I wish I knew how to quit you,’” he reads in an ominous tone.

Xiao snorts. “I hate that one. So dreary.”

“Still a good book.”

“If you like romantic tragedies.” Xiao doesn’t. If you asked a thousand years ago, he would’ve spoken positively. In his old age, he’s learned something astounding: Xiao rather likes enjoying his life, particularly with this old fool of a man.

“‘I am nothing special; just a common man with common thoughts, and I’ve led a common life.’” The next quote that comes is boring. And incorrect.

“Common man,” murmurs Xiao, tracing his fingertip along Zhongli’s arm. “I think not, Master.”

Zhongli chuckles behind him, his chest rumbling. Xiao hasn’t called him that sincerely in so long. Now it’s nothing but a silver-tongued pet name.

“Which is your favorite?” asks Xiao, already knowing the answer.

Zhongli shifts behind him, reaching around to turn a dog-eared page. Zhongli’s favorite, which makes it Xiao’s favorite. Zhongli’s mouth hovers near his ear. “‘You should be kissed often, and by someone who knows how.’”

Xiao’s heart lurches at the fine words curled right into his skin. He plucks the book from Zhongli’s fingers and sets it to the side.

Zhongli’s legs immediately spread wide, allowing Xiao to slot in between them. He hangs over him, pressing Zhongli back into the sofa, his gaze washing over his face. Worn with age, wrinkled and crinkled, but oh-so-handsome. Xiao loves the crow’s feet and soft laugh lines.

There was a time when neither thought they’d make it this far, but those are now fleeting memories of the past, lost almost entirely to time.

“Just like that?” asks Zhongli in amusement, tugging Xiao closer. “With so few words?”

It’s words like this that set Xiao’s gut burning. He slips down that slope so easily. Perhaps it is even worse now that Xiao is allowed to be familiar, to touch and love Zhongli as he wished for so long ago.

It’s still novel, thinks Xiao as his gaze turns hungered and he feels pleasure pooling in his gut. Just like that indeed.

Xiao grasps Zhongli by the chin and tilts his face up. “You should be kissed often,” he muses as he looks at him.

Zhongli watches back, eyes affectionate. “You certainly know how.”

Xiao kisses him, a sweet and tender thing. Their lips meet languidly, Xiao licking into Zhongli’s mouth. It’s so familiar, so well-known that Xiao gets lost in it. He loses sight of everything else as he slips entirely into pleasure.

Zhongli lifts a hand, threading fingers through Xiao’s hair, tugging gently at his scalp to change the angle. His other hand slips around to grab at Xiao’s ass, pulling him closer and—

Xiao practically purrs into Zhongli’s mouth, feeling the hardness that fills his trousers. He pulls back from the kiss just long enough to say, “Just like that?”

And Zhongli laughs, kissing him again, this time more fiercely. Xiao nips at his mouth, catching his lip between his teeth. He drags a hand down Zhongli’s front to slip into the loose collar of his shirt. Oh, how Xiao wants to lick his way across his entire being.

“I did want to spend time with you,” says Zhongli against him, chuckling softly. “But—”

“Don’t say that you didn’t expect this.” Because Zhongli should’ve. Even now, they can’t keep their hands off each other.

Their third kiss is animalistic, teeth clacking as they bite at each other. Zhongli reaches underneath Xiao’s shirt, scratching at the skin there. Xiao moans into his mouth, their tongues meeting in a wet embrace.

Xiao loves moments like this, small pockets in time where everything else melts away. Zhongli grinds against him, their cocks dragging with delicious friction, and he moans low and deep.

“Xiao,” says Zhongli quietly, “Get up and come here.”

He does, shifting until he’s kneeling stock straight, fingers curled into the couch. Zhongli shifts slightly until his face is level with his tented cock, nuzzling his nose along the length of it.

“Oh,” breathes Xiao, already holding his head there with one hand, just a gentle pressure against the back of Zhongli’s scalp.

Zhongli says nothing as he pulls Xiao’s trousers down, freeing him. “Out here on the balcony?”

“Don’t care,” says Zhongli, wrapping a warm hand around Xiao’s length and pumping it once. He looks at Xiao’s cock like it’s a masterpiece, his eyes warm and crinkled around the edges as he smiles softly.

Gods, Xiao loves this man. Never thought he’d have him, but here they are eons later, Zhongli ready to worship his cock. Which he does. Zhongli presses a kiss right where his cock meets his groin, nipping at the skin there. Lifts a hand to cradle Xiao’s balls, squeezing them gently. Then, he licks across his length in a teasing little stripe.

Xiao sighs as he watches, brushing Zhongli’s hair back from his forehead. “Always so good for me,” he murmurs.

“Yes well, it’s easy when I love this.” Zhongli presses a kiss to the tip of his cock and then swallows him down.

His mouth is hot and wet. He tongues around the underside of Xiao’s dick before sucking around him. Xiao melts, moaning as he slips in deeper. Zhongli is dutiful in his attention, working his mouth with enthusiasm.

“Gods.” Xiao moans softly, his head tipping forward as he tries not to buck into his throat, but it’s hard with how perfect his mouth feels. Xiao distracts himself by tugging at his hair sharply, something that he knows Zhongli loves.

Zhongli groans around him, the sound of it just as addicting as the way his throat vibrates. He grasps Xiao by the ass and pulls at him, encouraging him to move. So he does, sinking his cock into his mouth that last inch or so, until Zhongli’s nose is nestled into the coarse hair at the base of it.

It’s nearly enough to tip him right over, and Xiao would relish in it, losing himself right into Zhongli's throat, but—

“Zhongli,” murmurs Xiao, smoothing his thumb over the high arch of his cheekbones, and then down to feel the swell of his cock in his throat. Xiao swallows thickly when Zhongli looks back at him through wet eyes.

“I want to take care of you, I want—”

Zhongli’s eyes darken at that and he pulls off of his cock, swirling his tongue around the tip.“You want to fuck me,” he says, rather crudely, and all it does is cause pleasure to pool deep into Xiao’s gut.

He does. He wants to pick Zhongli apart and lose himself entirely to the feel of him. “When do I never want to fuck you?”

“Hm.” Zhongli looks amused as his hand still slides along his cock. He pauses to lean forward and lap up the precome that drips from the tip, and Xiao feels the pleasure in his core nearly snap once more. It’s sinful, the way that he looks when Zhongli does something so simple, so inelegant.

Xiao wants to see him utterly ruined by his cock instead.

“I know that look,” says Zhongli, not unkindly.

“Gods, I want you.” Xiao’s hand tightens against the back of the couch, his nails digging in. Zhongli watches him back with glittering, golden eyes. He might not be an Archon anymore, but neither of them is mortal, and Zhongli knows when to indulge.

It’s less than a minute to the bed, which is far more comfortable than fucking outdoors. Zhongli has already pulled off his shirt and tossed it to the side, his fingers curled into the waistband of his trousers. Xiao’s shirt is open and unbuttoned, his fingers making quick work of it on his way inside. Zhongli slides into the bed and settles on his back, waiting for him, naked and legs spread.

“So handsome,” says Xiao, soaking up the sight of him, lingering as he leans against the doorframe, his trousers still slung low on his hips.

“No, you,” says Zhongli, watching him with a dragon-like gaze.

It’s natural, falling into the sheets with him. Their bed is warmth and comfort. Xiao hangs over him, palming down his front and across the sharpness of his hips, and Zhongli arches into the touch.

Xiao presses a kiss to Zhongli’s throat. “All mine,” he says, his tongue snaking out to lick against his skin, tasting it. And the sounds that Zhongli makes—all of them curl right at the base of Xiao’s cock where it’s hard and leaking.

Zhongli too. Xiao swipes his hand across his length, smiling against Zhongli’s neck when he moans.

“So slow,” he murmurs, squirming in the sheets as he shuffles around to reach underneath a pillow.

Xiao snorts when he produces a bottle of oil. “That eager?”

“When am I not?” Zhongli throws his earlier words right back at him, and Xiao’s mouth curls into a real, rare smile. Zhongli takes a moment and grabs Xiao’s hand, pulling it to his mouth. Kisses the ring that sits there, his mouth lingering as he nuzzles it. “Husband,” he says so lovingly, “please indulge me.”

Xiao sighs softly as his heart tightens. “All right,” he says, slicking his fingers up and pressing them to the crease of Zhongli’s ass. He circles the tight entrance there, easing the way for his finger.

Zhongli moans the moment the first one slips in, his thighs spreading slightly. Xiao laughs against his collarbone, pressing a kiss there. He teases him, sure, but he loves that Zhongli is so ready and responsive.

Xiao is quick in his work, pulling at his rim and pressing the finger in deep. A second joins the first and Zhongli keens, hips lifting off the bed slightly as his head falls back. Xiao nuzzles the inside of his thigh, biting at the skin there, curling his fingers fervently as he tries to find—

“Ah—” His mouth curls into a feral grin against Zhongli’s thigh, and he presses his fingers deep against his prostate. “Oh, oh—”

Xiao pulls his fingers out because he’s feeling a little cruel, and Zhongli whines as his hips chase his hand.

“Cruel,” says Zhongli with a huff, wriggling underneath Xiao’s firm grasp.

Xiao settles between Zhongli’s legs properly. He smooths his hands along Zhongli’s sides, taking in his slim form. Not much has changed over the centuries, aside from wrinkles here and there, and deep-seated tiredness that sags his bones.

Zhongli is still the most handsome man he’s ever known, and Xiao tells him this as he slides his cock right in. Zhongli sighs as he fills him, head falling back, his eyes fluttering closed.

He looks so good, taking him like this. Xiao presses in eagerly until his hips meet Zhongli’s ass. “So good for me,” moans Xiao softly, sweeping his hand down hardened muscles. “You always take me so well.”

Zhongli opens his eyes and they meet gazes. He’s flushed pink from his cheeks down to his collarbone, eyes half-lidded with lust. “I do believe that I said to indulge me,” he drawls, his voice low and husky.

Xiao can’t help the curl of his lips as he looks down at him. And, oh, he will. It isn’t often that Zhongli prefers to be underneath him, but when he does, Xiao makes the most of it.

He pulls out to the tip and thrusts back in, and Zhongli keens below him, responding so perfectly. Xiao won’t last long, not with the way that Zhongli clings tight around his cock.

Zhongli’s legs are a little too long to be easily manhandled, but Xiao presses his thighs back nonetheless. When he fucks into him, Zhongli pushes back, meeting every movement with the rise of his hips.

It’s delicious, the way they watch each other. Zhongli’s gaze is utterly ruined, his red liner smeared around the corners of his eyes. Xiao knows he’s a mess too, looking entirely gone as his cock slides into Zhongli over and over with an effortless glide.

Wet, warm, and tight, and oh-so perfect. Xiao can already feel the pressure churning in his gut as he ruts into Zhongli with a little more force. Zhongli looks too good below him and he just loves him too much.

He doesn’t go fast; Xiao opts for fervent, long strokes that strike deep. The angle is good enough for Zhongli to fist at the sheets. He moans low in his throat, the sound so debauched that Xiao nearly loses it right then.

Instead, he distracts himself, scratching his fingers through the coarse hair at the base of Zhongli’s cock. Then, he wraps his hand around the length, pumping it gently, a far cry from the way that he fucks into him with measured, heavy movements.

“Xiao, Xiao—” It’s a whimper that dissolves as Xiao’s hand curls around the head of Zhongli’s cock, spreading the precome there. He groans as Zhongli tightens around him, the squeeze nearly suffocating.

Zhongli comes first, his come flooding Xiao’s hand. Xiao soaks up the sight—how overstimulated and sensitive Zhongli is; the way that he writhes underneath him, riding out the high of his orgasm; the feeling of his ass and the vice grip it has around Xiao’s cock.

Xiao ruts into him with several aborted thrusts before he tips over the edge too, that fiery pleasure in his gut snapping entirely. He collapses against Zhongli, pressing his nose into the juncture of his neck, pressing soft kisses there as he spills everything that he has deep into him.

“Fuck,” he murmurs against sweat-slick skin. “Gods, I love you.”

Zhongli presses a hand into his hair, combing through it. Sighs contently as he relishes the way that Xiao’s plastered himself against his front. They stay like that far too long, growing sticky with their mess.

Clean-up is quick and efficient. When Xiao slips back into the sheets again, Zhongli is on his back, his arm open and waiting. Xiao rests his face against his chest and Zhongli resumes tangling his fingers into his soft hair, scratching lightly at his scalp.

“We’re old,” says Xiao finally. “I’m sore and I ache. I am often tired.” He doesn’t mean just physically, he means his mind too. Time passes and erosion tugs at his seams, whether he wants it to or not.

Zhongli hums softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Might I suggest retirement?”

Xiao snorts. Then he falls quiet, thinking, just for a moment. And then he says, “This, I won’t tire of, though. What we share. It’s everlasting.”

Zhongli shifts slightly, grasping at Xiao’s left hand and thumbing over that beloved ring that sits there. “I love you,” he says, kissing the knuckles of his fingers gently. “Forever.”

Xiao never thought he’d have forever, but it’s nice that time has proven him wrong.

#genshin impact fanfic #Genshin Impact #genshin smut #Xiao/Zhongli #XiaoZhong

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risingsouls · 2 years

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Recruited: Chapter 41

[This chapter is much shorter than the rest have been and I PROBABLY could have just tacked it on to 40 like I originally planned, but I kinda like having their interaction stand alone. I’ve been sitting on this interaction at this point for literal months now, and I’m glad to FINALLY get to write it. It’s been SO LONG since these two just got to TALK so yeh :’3

Anyway, as usual, read my other stuff over here!

Nabooru

The threeway spar between herself, Vegeta, and Trunks slowed to a natural pause as the sun dipped low behind the horizon, the final night preceding the day of reckoning fast approaching. In the morning, they would meet Cell and fight for their lives and the future of the planet on his twisted terms. Their ten days were almost up, and Nabooru had no real idea if any of their efforts over that too-short time would prove enough to dispose of the bioandroid. And she didn't dare ask anyone else if they felt they had a chance, if only to spare her own neutral facade from breaking in the face of her lack of any real confidence going into the Cell Games.

Nabooru touched down on one of the few plateaus that remained intact in the area and stretched her arms above her head. Vegeta landed nearby, tail unwinding from his waist, and Trunks floated a few meters from the edge. They all bore the physical tells of battle, from rips in their clothing and sweat glistening on their skin to scrapes and bruises here and there. Their agreement to take it easy to spare their energy and health didn't last long; Nabooru attributed it to equal parts anxiety and simply being unable to allow it.

Vegeta hadn't been particularly pleased about allowing Trunks to join them but, after sitting on the sidelines long enough, waiting for her and his son to finish their fight, he lost patience and jumped in. Good practice even though she didn't expect anyone would fight more than a single opponent considering the set up would resemble the World Martial Arts Tournament, but Nabooru welcomed the challenge. Vegeta always pushed her, but Trunks had an entirely different fighting style, new moves and strategies for her to pick apart and learn to combat. Fighting the two together kept her mind occupied and off of what the next day might bring.

"I think I'm going to head back," Trunks said, tying his lilac locks back again. "I want to spend time with mom before…well, you know."

"Sure. See you tomorrow, Trunks."

Nabooru waved and Vegeta offered little more than a mild grunt of half acknowledgement before the hybrid took off toward West City once more. She lowered herself down onto the red stone and let her legs dangle over the side, resting back on her hands. Her gaze lingered on the skyline, soaking in the last light of the day and admiring the beautiful hues it dyed the sky in those final moments. She half expected Vegeta to protest, insist they return to their training, but none came. And, if she wouldn't have been able to sense him, she would have sworn he left by his impossible silence.

"I can't remember the last time I was able to just sit and watch the sunset," she mused, more to herself than the prince. "It used to be one of my favorite things to do back home."

"Best enjoy this one. It might be your last."

A daunting thought bluntly voiced but failed to dampen the experience. She felt oddly calm despite it all. Her nerves, her sense of responsibility for helping ensure their success for at least Nappa's and Raditz's sake quieted. Through it all, she never feared her own death, the idea of it always on her mind from habit, of a warrior's mindset drilled into her from a young age. Though her Earth life was drastically different from her life on Hyrule or in the force, even in times of peace, she never fully shook that part of her identity, relevant or not. And she didn't mind; it helped her feel more connected to her roots. Her people.

"Silly as it was, the Gerudo believed that a warrior's spirit was immortalized in the stars." Her head fell back, examining the points of light slowly making their appearance in the darkening sky. "Unoriginal, too, I guess, when that seemed to be a common belief for other peoples, too. But the proper Gerudo burial called for cremation and spreading the ashes among the desert sand. The first allowed the spirit to rise to the sky and the second bound the physical body to the desert as homage to V'riqi, the goddess of the sand. It was how the Gerudo found peace in the afterlife, and could continue to guide and empower the living if they chose."

Vegeta snorted and moved to stand next to her, arms folded over his chest. "Such superstition. Are you telling me this so I make sure to do that for you if you die?"

"If there's a body left." A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Though if there is, and if they refuse to bring me back and you're feeling generous, I wouldn't be opposed."

Silence fell over the pair, comfortable and familiar. The sort they grew used to on the force either following a heavier topic of conversation or when neither of them could seem to work up the nerve or comfort level to say what might be weighing on their minds. None of which was helped by the constant need for discretion that, at least for her part, deterred much meaningful conversation.

As if realizing the same, that none could overhear them save for the wind, or, maybe, because he knew they might both be dead in less than a day, he spoke: "The Saiyans had similar beliefs." She glanced over as he sat next to her, half ashamed of the mild surprise in her slightly widened eyes and parted lips. He pulled a knee up and draped his forearm over it. "The spirits of fallen warriors contribute to the boost we receive when we suffer life-threatening injuries. They add their strength to ours and, in some way, continue to live."

He fell silent again, gaze settled on the horizon and, for a second, slightly narrowed. Then, he scoffed. “Not that it matters. It’s all just religious garbage and superstition Nappa made sure I didn’t completely forget, even if he didn’t believe in it either. We weren’t a very spiritual people in the first place as far as I can tell, but the Empire’s influence stamped out plenty in their rule.”

Nabooru traced a pattern in the dirt by her hip, biting her lip. His mention of Nappa reminded her that she had yet to tell Vegeta he lived. She could also add Bardock and Raditz to that list now, too. Would it be worth telling him if they were just going to die tomorrow? Or did that make it the prime opportunity to? In some ways, she felt guilty that she hadn’t told him straight away. However, she and Nappa agreed it was for the best he didn’t know. In the past few years, Vegeta’s mental state made him unpredictable. While she doubted he would have even registered it let alone cared, she didn’t want to risk him conjuring up a reason to want to kill Nappa again. Sating his own ego sat at the top of her list of reasons, and with the spate of losses he took on Earth and Namek, he might consider that a “win” he wanted to stick after all.

“Hm, I’d believe that. Working so close to Frieza, I realized quickly just how much they preferred to push races away from their cultures to conform to the bland, uniform expectation of the Empire,” she settled on, pushing the task of revealing her secret into the brush for the moment. “I can’t count the amount of times I watched him belittle or outright threaten someone for an accent, their clothing, or even a part of their body.”

“Tch, he was always disgusted with our tails, which is why we usually didn't let them free of our waists. While it kept them safe for those that needed the extra security for their tails, it was prudent to keep them there to ensure we didn’t offend Frieza.” Vegeta spat on the ground next to him. “His father never seemed to care, but once Frieza was in charge, I remember the constant reminders to keep my tail around my waist when he was around the palace.” The ghost of his smirk passed over his visage. “Of course, I only listened half of the time once I found out the why.”

Nabooru snickered behind her hand. “It is what he deserved. Your tails are a part of you, and I personally thought you looked naked without yours.”

A hum rumbled in his chest and the appendage in question swayed leisurely behind him. His obsidian eyes fell to his gloved hand, and his fingers curled into his palm, leather crunched with the formation of his fist. Along with the un-clenching and re-clenching of his jaw, the reactions seemed out of place when their conversation felt so light. Fighting an internal battle it seemed. Over what, she could only guess: memories of Frieza and others like Zarbon and Dodoria belittling him and his race, how he failed to exact his revenge on the tyrant himself, or perhaps his more recent torment concerning Kakarot taking center stage again. It hardly mattered that she didn’t expect an answer when she surmised to ask, for he stopped the inquiry before it could fully form.

“I didn’t mean what I said. Back then.”

She stared, more than confused, not only by the fact that she couldn’t begin to place what he meant, but that he uttered anything verging on an apology. “I guess I don’t follow. You’ve said plenty of mean if not cruel things to me in the past, you know.”

Vegeta growled, and she was certain he was going to drop the entire topic of conversation. “Ugh, you’re insufferable. How do you not–” His tail lashed the stone then curved around his hip to rest between them, the fur standing on end.

“Vegeta, you don’t have to…”

“Shut up. Just let me…” He huffed, his nostrils flaring. “I never really thought you wanted to work alongside Frieza as his general. I knew you weren’t going behind my back or jeopardizing our plans. Nor did I think you a common whore, let alone his.”

Mouth once more agape, the woman was dumbfounded. For the most part, she had moved on from that scene. So long as she didn’t consider it, labeled it as ancient history and impassioned words that did not reflect his true view of her, she could push it back aside if the memory cropped up. However, if it caught her off guard, a sucker punch on those nights where her mind threatened to wholly unravel and convince her that her life had become pointless after all, it instead dug its sharp claws in and twisted their every subsequent interaction from neutral to verging toward positive again into judgmental and degrading, no matter the topic, tone, or outcome. For him to confirm that he never thought that low of her after all…it affected her far more significantly than she could have guessed.

"It was…simply easier for me to be angry with you," he continued, once more surprising her by explaining himself without further prodding. "I felt like a fool because I had begun to trust you, and then Frieza pulled that stunt. I knew you didn't want the promotion, nor did you obtain it by going behind my back, even before Frieza told us about his asinine plan and theatrics. But convincing myself that you were a lowlife traitor was…easier for me to handle than the reality I could do nothing about. It made it easier to move on and move forward and not brood on losing you and the damage it did to my plans."

Nabooru chuckled, soft with a hint of bitterness. "As much as I want to, I guess I can't blame you for that. I tried to do the same thing and we all had to do whatever we could to survive. I imagine if you didn't cut ties like that, Frieza would have taken note and used me against you."

It was what she feared all along from the moment she set eyes on the Saiyan trio. It was why they kept their trysts–no matter how emotionally detached they were–and budding trust in each other as secret as they could. The wrong people catching wind not only threatened their plans for liberation, but could have placed them at anyone's mercy if they developed or showed any more care for each other than they had. There was always danger in vulnerability for people like them. While their situations changed drastically since Namek, neither seemed to have fully abandoned that portion of their survival instincts. And maybe they never would.

"Thank you for telling me, though. I sort of told myself that, to…you know…soften the blow, but…it's nice to be certain of." She found the horizon again, the last light nearly doused and replaced by the black velvet of night. Picking at a tear in her leggings, she pushed herself up to sit properly. "Despite it all, I was glad when I sensed your energy on Namek. It was comforting in its own way. I didn't know how things would end for me there, and I assumed either you or Frieza would kill me, but I wanted to make that last stand with you regardless. Just like we talked about."

Another rumble sounded from Vegeta's throat, his features twisting into the same pained stubborn grimace as before. His tail thumped the stone between them once, cracks snaking from the point of impact. "I wouldn't have killed you even if Frieza hadn't," he muttered, gruff voice nearly inaudible. He very intentionally kept his dark eyes from finding her gold ones. Once more, she idly wondered why he bothered to say any of this at all if it caused him so much strain. She understood how deeply ingrained his pride was, how the mental wounds endured on Namek still tormented both of them to varying degrees. He wasn't one to openly admit to being wrong or to the mistakes he made, brushing it off as the past and he refused to dwell on it. It's why she never would have bothered outright asking him about any of the topics he expressed with, at best, minimal prodding.

"I would have kept my word and taken you home. Let you decide from there."

The home she no longer had by that point; she wasn't sure if it was that thought or the revelation itself that caused the pang in her chest. Her longing for her people and planet or a strange sense of guilt for adamantly assuming Vegeta would have broken his promise to her and shown her no mercy if he killed Frieza. Since she had never been fully convinced he actually viewed her as a traitor who went behind his back for a more prestigious rank, had she been unfair to him? While mean-spirited, harsh, and brutally honest with her and everyone else by default, he had never been outright disrespectful or unfair to her before that moment after the unwanted promotion. At least, not in ways she could shrug off as his haughty nature. Had she been too quick to assume the worst of him in that regard, considering their past interactions?

"I think this might be the most you've said to me since after Namek," she replied, laughing. "Maybe I should have been taking advantage of these life-threatening crises more often."

Vegeta merely grunted and, with her mind traipsing toward the what could have been, she added, "And I still would have let you call Hyrule or whatever we renamed it your home, too, if you wanted. Like I promised."

She had to shove the memories of that particular day to the back of her mind–the first time she saw him free of his armor and battlesuit despite several other trysts preceding that one; their desire-warmed bodies entangled skin to skin; the sensation of his tongue, lips, and teeth littering her flesh with marks; the kisses she wished she would have savored longer or stole more of had she known–with some effort. Memories she could potentially entertain later, alone, if the dread of the impending battle awaiting them the next day didn't settle back in. It, somewhat shamefully, wouldn't be the first time she recalled that final coupling with more longing than she should have.

Focused once more on the moment and glad he either didn't notice any potential changes in her or she did a good job hiding the lurid vein her thoughts wandered toward, Nabooru crushed a pebble beneath her thumb at her hip. She sucked in a breath. "While we're being honest with each other, there's…something I've been meaning to tell you, too."

A sidelong glance, and she met Vegeta's minute squint. His posture had relaxed several degrees, at least, though it might not last much longer. Nabooru swallowed. "Nappa's alive. So is Raditz. And another Saiyan called Bardock, Raditz's and Goku's father."

"You're joking," he responded, though the accusation lacked conviction. He glared at her, daring her to confirm it. When she remained silent, he scoffed. "And you're just now bothering to tell me this?"

Nabooru returned his glare, chin lifting. "Honestly, I didn't think you would even care."

"I don't," he insisted, springing to his feet,"but you still could have said something!"

"We were busy, and I didn't want you to find some reason to kill Nappa again or putting a target on Bardock's back because he's related to Goku," she snapped back, standing herself and placing her hands on her hips. His growl was the only reply he offered, so she continued. "I've only known about Raditz for a few days. He hasn't been back long, I don't think."

"Tch, whoever wished him back had a dark sense of humor, obviously." His tail bristled again and stood nearly parallel to the ground in his frustration. "Though, I suppose that's not possible since it's been far longer than a year, and I don't see any of Kakarot's friends wasting a wish on Raditz or Nappa. As for the other one, he must be a lucky bastard that escaped Planet Vegeta somehow and made his way here for some foolish reason…"

"Nappa was revived by the same wish as we were," she explained, dragging her fingers along her scalp. "The dragon apparently still counted you as one of Frieza's men. And since it hadn't been an Earth year, he was included in the mix."

"Figures. And the other two?"

"Long stories short? Gods were involved."

Vegeta guffawed. "Ridiculous! If gods even exist, what the hell would they want with the likes of Raditz or his father?"

"From what they told me, they apparently thought they deserved a second chance at life for varying reasons."

"Where are they now?"

Nabooru narrowed her eyes. "That depends on if you plan on going after them for some stupid reason."

"Don't be a fool." He rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms tight over his chest. "I wouldn't waste my energy on any of them. And Cell might kill us all and them tomorrow anyway, so why bother?"

"Fine. Raditz is staying with Nappa here on Earth and Bardock went out to dismantle whatever was left of Frieza's armies and empire. Satisfied?"

He eyed her for several moments longer, fingers tapping on his arm. Finally, he harrumphed and rotated on his heel a quarter turn. "Whatever, like I said, it might not matter after tomorrow. All of our second chances might be snuffed out by an overgrown insect."

"At least his perfect form isn't as hideous as the first two." She shuddered. "Really calls into question Gero's taste level."

"An Earthling with taste?" The hint of a smirk curled his lips. "I have yet to meet one, so I'm not surprised a reclusive madman doesn't possess an ounce of it himself. I plan to destroy the eyesore no matter what it takes. No one gets away with humiliating me the way he did."

"Not if I do it first. I'm not keen on dying just yet, nor am I about to let you or Goku have all the fun. I haven't gotten to fight him in this form yet, and I'm definitely stronger than I was." She flexed her right arm and winked when he rolled his eyes. “That said…Should we get one last spar in before we turn in for the night? I’m starting to feel antsy again.”

“Hmph, fine.” He tugged the bottoms of his gloves, securing them. “But don’t complain when you’re sore tomorrow.”

She waved a hand dismissively and, when energy surrounded him signaling his impending flight, she called out, “Wait!”

Another impatient growl and he powered down again. “What is it now? I thought you wanted–ow! What are you doing?!”

“Just hold still for a minute.” One hand grasping his wrist, orange ki retreated back into her index finger as blood oozed from the fresh cut she made in his forearm. Swiping up some of the blood with her fingertip, she pressed it to the sturdy plating of his armor, drawing three pointed spikes with two lines under the point where they met. She took more blood and finished the symbol with a curved line underneath, the ends coming to sharp points and another small point in the center of it, pointing downward.

“There. Does that look right? I was drawing from memory.”

He clicked his tongue and pulled his armor out in order to see what she had done. He observed her handiwork for several seconds, dark brows pinching together. “Where did you even see this?” he asked, letting his armor fall back into place on his chest. “I didn’t wear it on my armor anymore by the time you came around.”

“I asked Nappa. He has it framed in his office.”

“Of course he does.” He wiped excess blood from the cut. “What’s the purpose of this, anyway?”

Nabooru chewed her lip. “I don’t know, really. Nappa said it used to be on the armor worn by Saiyan royalty, so I thought you might like to have it on yours. And since it was a sort of last minute idea, I couldn’t exactly ask Bulma to put it on there for you.” She shrugged a shoulder. “I just thought you might like it. I painted my people’s symbol on mine the same way.”

Vegeta rolled his shoulders with a thoughtful rumble. “The blood is a nice touch. Very Saiyan.” He strode to the edge of the plateau, his energy encasing him once more. “But now that we’ve finished arts and crafts, let’s get on with it. We don’t have all the time in the world.”

He took off to another portion of the desert, a streak of red against the dark sky. After adjusting her own clothing, or what remained of the leggings and sports bra she had donned that morning, she zipped after him, a collected smile on her lips despite the horrors they might face in the ring with Cell.

#fic: recruited #:: nabooru ☀#// vegeta ♅#ah we're coming up to some real emotional shit #and i don't mean the cell games :3

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hyunjilicious · 3 years

Text

A/n: I'm low-key terrified because I never wrote anything like this before... 🥺 so I hope it doesn't suck? Thanks for the request @hommoturttle I hope its ok!

Summary: just sex. And breeding kink. SMUT 1.6K

Warnings: smut, some dirty talk, the tiniest bit of degradation, breeding kink obvi and some possessive Bucky. 18+ please!! (also idk about you but this gif does ✨things✨ to me - like.. Mr Barnes, stick whatever you want wherever you wantksksksk ok I'm done 🥲)

It would happen after a mission that you went on without him. No matter how used he is to going away and putting himself in danger, his brain refuses to accept that that's your job too. He gets crazy worried, sweats through most of the nights that you're not there to sleep on his chest, snaps at everyone that tells him to calm down, and counts the days until you're back. He's usually able to stand the distance, but not in these scenarios. He always ends up missing you like you've been gone for months, but the way the night you're back unfolds, makes up for everything.

No amount of cuddling, sweet nothings or showers together could possibly make up for the time away like the frantic rounds of sex you always go through as soon as you get back do. And it's always the same, he's on top of you, hovering above your body as his eyes never leave your frame. He wants to see every detail, every inch of your face, every feature that he loves so much.

It starts crazy and it ends even more so. Foreplay is long forgotten, everything you get is him throwing you on the bed and ripping every piece of clothing that stands in his way. And it's more than enough, the pure need and hunger in his manic blue eyes, has the power to drive you insane in record time.

You're a squirming, wet and needy mess by the time he has you naked on his bed, hands clawing up to him. "Come on, Bucky, I need you"

And it drives him up the walls too. He hates the belt that slows him down, and his shirts never make it out intact.

Biting down hard on his lower lip as his need gets the best of him, Bucky's breathing passes the threshold of obscene, his buffed chest heaving as he can't help himself.

"Come here, doll" he finally rasps, his voice low and grave as his jeans fall to the floor.

In a moment, he's on top of you, his legs lodged in between yours. Every touch is amplified by the wait and the feeling of his rough hands on your waist is mind-blowing. You squirm under his touch, trying to wiggle your way closer to him.

"Missed me too, huh?" Bucky grins proudly, gently but sternly grabbing your chin. His thumb rubs along your jawline, his teeth showing as he can't hide his enthusiasm.

"Yes-" you breathe out, melting under his touch. "Missed you so much, Buck."

"Need me?" he keeps teasing, lowering himself so that his lips reach the side of your neck. At first, it's his hot breath that you allow yourself to get drunk on, but when his teeth lewdly sink into your skin, you yelp, your thighs involuntarily closing around his hips.

And you can tell he takes pride in the responses he gets from you. You're sure he feels the goosebumps up your arms, or the way your rib cage shakes with every breath you take. But he keeps going, his greedy hands exploring your naked body, taking your breasts into his palms as he keeps on sucking claim marks into your neck.

"Fuck, Bucky-" you moan, back arching. His lips and his fingers are already too much for you to take, but when the tip of his cock brushes against your thigh, you're all but done.

"Tell me you need me, doll" he hums, pushing himself up on his left arm. The mattress dips under the weight of his metal hand, and as you look between your bodies, your eyes land on the way he's eagerly fisting his cock in his right hand. You're caged in his hold, and it's the only thing you want.

"You're all I need, Bucky" you cry, your hands softly roaming up his chest. His hair had fallen around his face, framing his features and offering them the required amount of shadow needed to accentuate his carnal desire. Bottom lip wet and lodged between his teeth, he watches you closely, waiting for more.

"Bucky, please-" you continue, uselessly shaking your hips from side to side. "I'm already so wet, I'm such a mess for you sometimes. Just use me, do whatever you want with me, I just need to feel you, Bucky. Deep inside me, please"

He shakes his head in disbelief, hints of bitter laughter escaping his lips. "Such a needy, little thing" he muttered to himself.

With your mind clouded and busy enjoying the build-up, when the tip of his cock connectes to your folds, your eyes snap wide. Your reaction brings a proud grin to Bucky’s lips, but this is just the beginning.

Giving you no time to adjust whatsoever, he slams himself into you, bottoming out as you feel your breath cut short. "Fuck, fuck-" you pant, wrapping your arms around his shoulders in a pathetic attempt to ground yourself.

"Be good for me, doll, ok?" Bucky groans against your ear. His body is right on top of yours, fully rocking you against the mattress with every deep and powerful thrust of his hips. "You need to take all of me"

You can feel him up into your chest, your pleasure materializing in the form of tears, coating your eyes for just a short second before running down your temples.

"Buck-" you cry.

"I'm gonna fill you up, baby" he grunts, holding onto your shoulders as he shoves himself deeper. "Deep inside your belly, yeah? Gonna feel me for days"

And you're not that close yet, your brain isn't yet drowning in hormones, so you can think straight, you can form a decent answer - but you refuse to. You just squeeze your eyes shut and grit your teeth, sucking the pleasure his cock forced into your body. Every vein is palpable, your walls closing in around him as if his size isn't already a tad bit more than you'd normally find comfortable. But you love it, he's there, as close as he can get, consuming himself right there with you.

"Fuck-" Bucky grunts, his metal fingers wrapping around the roots of your hair. It's unwashed - a weeks worth of sweat embedded into its fibers but he doesn't care. He only sees you. "I missed you so fucking bad, doll-"

"I'm here, baby-" you coo, your words shaky and barely audible.

You don't know if he heard you, or if he even processed your sentence, he's too caught up.

"You're mine - you're here with me, only mine-" he adds, fervently sucking away at the skin of your neck. "My baby, my angel, mine-" he grunts, emphasising his last word with the help of a ravaging thrust that shakes you to your core.

You cry out, his name burning your throat as you feel him ripping your insides apart.

"Bucky- Buck- I-"

"So sweet-" he cuts you off, moving his head to the other side of your neck. "And only fucking mine. Say it-" he demands.

"I'm-" you gasp, "I'm yours, only yours"

"All mine"

You faintly nod along, vision blurry as you start to lose yourself.

"Say it!" Bucky adds.

"I'm all yours"

"Say it again"

"I'm... all- all yours, Bucky" you manage to mutter before a pleasure filled whine erupts from your throat. "I'm getting close… Bucky, I can't-"

"Easy now-" he moans, slowing down his pace. He comes face to face with you, his damp lips sloppily pressing against yours. He's still balls deep inside your cunt, making the gentle movement of his hips almost unbearable.

Eventually, he slowly tilts your head to the side, burying his face into your hair as he whispers against your ear, "I'm gonna pump you full, yeah? Gonna fill this sweet cunt with my cum, and you, like the good little slut you are, are not gonna let any of it go waste, right?"

"Yeah…"

"Gonna use that pretty cunt of yours to milk my cock dry, yeah?"

You whimper and nodd, frantically trying to get him to pick up his pace. But he isn't having it. When he finally pulls out at that agonisingly slow pace, he captures your lips into another kiss as he slams himself back in.

"Come on, Bucky, fill me up" you cried, involuntarily pulling breaking the kiss, "I wanna feel you inside me"

"Oh, you're gonna feel me inside you alright" he taunted, repeating his movements and pulling all the way out before forcing himself all the way back in. "A little bit of me inside you-" he growls and thrusts again, deeper and harder, "Growing inside you-"

"Holy- fuck!" you screamed, throwing your head back.

"Mine forever, doll-" Bucky grunts, both of you dangerously close the edge, "Yeah?"

"Mhm-" you hum, whiny and all teary eyed with your lips gathered between your teeth.

And then you're all but done - legs tightly wrapped around his middle - every muscle of your body clenching uncontrollably as a spiral of pleasure engulfs your body. And Bucky isn't far behind, your name being the only thing on his lips as he shoots his load deep inside your pussy - careless and irregular, a few last thrusts until he crashes down on top of you.

Although out of breath, as the last waves of your orgasm propagate along your body, you still cling to him. Bucky's face is hidden against your shoulder as he struggles to come down from his high, none of you willing to move even an inch.

"I'm never pulling out" he jokes, and it takes all the energy you have left inside your body to chuckle along.

"Wouldn't ask you to" you laugh, "But you're crushing me so-"

With a grunt, but still with impeccable ease, Bucky wraps his arms around your middle and spins the two of you around, until he's laying on his back with you against his chest.

"There-" he shrugs placing a kiss on the top of your head, "Problem solved"

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes blurb #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x reader

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chil2de · 3 years

Text

hi yes the benimaru fic i mentioned earlier— fire force fandom will you let me in please??🥺🥺 i don’t know what i’m dealing with fanbase wise mmfldjfj sometimes it feels like i’m head over heels for bens by myself so... i’ll drop this here for now.. see how it goes and i’ll continue w/ a second part if ff isn’t dead

nsfw themes throughout, so please read my disclaimer if you’re new. enjoy :)

w.c: 1.7k, characters: 9.6k (incl spaces)

there’s a certain sluggish quality that plagues your movements. it’s not fatigue or incompetence. or so benimaru would hope.

his mix matched gaze glosses over your unnecessary movements. that extra exhale you hiss, the additional bat of your eyelashes and the excessive perspiration that drips onto the earth below.

“stop.” he commands, tone low and stern as it pierces through the open air.

“huh? captain shinmon, i’m fine. we can keep going.” you huff through laboured breaths, pausing to gasp and drink in the plentiful oxygen around you.

“it’s one thing if you’re overworking your muscles. it’s another if you’re running a fever. go inside.”

“b-but captain-“

benimaru shoots you a dead stare, keeping his statement rooted deep where he stands.

judging by the bruises that adorn your knees, you know better than to disobey the captain.

“waka! have you seen (l/n)?” konro lingers in the doorframe of the main communal area, gaze scanning for one of his colleagues.

“she’s in her room. why?”

“her room? she has a few errands to run. is she feeling okay?”

“she’s running a fever.” benimaru exhales, shifting to get up from the table. he lightly scratches the back of his neck, adorning that usual aloof facial expression.

“in the middle of summer? how’d that happen?” konro chuckles through a small glimpse of bewilderment. of course he’d be concerned for one of his best recruits.

“hell if i know. what do we need? i’ll head out.”

if anything, benimaru is probably the sole reason why you’re running a fever. why he subjected to railing you underneath water that felt like it was nearing sub-zero was beyond you. it’s not like he’s about to admit he enjoys fucking his special little fire soldier. how he relishes and engrains the sight of your fucked out facial expression deep into his head, burning the image into his retinas. shit, you wouldn’t be surprised if the reason why he sometimes spaces out is because of you.

it’s always been blatantly obvious that you’re the captain’s favourite, no matter how much he denies it and how many glares he shoots at the people from other companies. you’re always left apologising for his behaviour, attempting to keep a straight face.

for the one time you dragged him out to patrol with you, and the amount of incessant whining, complaints and bribes you offered your captain, after a full month of lovely slow burn he decided to come along with you. he just up and left, had the audacity to turn around and ask you why you’re still standing there. benimaru always kept his distance to yours close, in fact the separation was almost minimal. you could feel his shoulders ghost over you.

every time he noticed someone staring at your figure for a little bit too long to be deemed appropriate, he hissed a scoff of distaste. at around the third or fourth person, you were already forced to deal with his short temper.

“what the hell are you gawking at? mind your damn business.”

but sure. apparently you’re not his favourite.

he can scoff and complain all he wants, but that won’t stop him even now from lazily snaking his hand around to his favourite baby girl’s waist. to him, this seems like the most normal thing.

“how else is she going to stand upright? she’s all stick and bones, the wind will knock her right over.”

okay, benimaru. you keep telling yourself that. even when his fingers feel an itch every time they’re not touching a part of your skin. he tends to get a whole lot more mouthy and irritable every time you’re not around, too.

hell, even his own townsfolk pick up on the fact that he’s out and about more. rounds that he always left to the lesser important underlings became more commonplace, especially with you by his side.

but the things that go on behind closed doors?

his peppermint red eyes that haunt your mind, infiltrating your very thoughts. you could be minding your business, going on about your day until you get an abrupt flicker of his mundane tic-tac-toe gaze staring up at you from in between your thighs.

you could be taking care of hinata and hikage, entertaining their antics when you feel the weight of benimaru’s stare burn holes into your uniform.

you could be doing your daily sparring with the captain. in the zone, breath held and blood stream steady until you remember the feel of his hot tongue trailing along the side of your neck. for someone who seems to be stuck in a perpetual state of sadness, you always catch the arrogant smirk that pulls at his lips.

“thinking of something?” he’ll cock his eyebrows, using the distraction to take a jab to your gut.

you groan, stirring around in your bed. you hate him, hate that stupid half lidded gaze of his. you hate how soft his wavy jet black locks are. the way the strands tug and bend whenever you try to yank his face away from your cunt. you run your fingers through your hair in a valiant yet futile attempt to free your thoughts from your captain. it’s only three o’clock in the afternoon, and you haven’t done anything but reminisce about your lover for the past hour and a half.

a meek and uneven sigh hisses from your lips. your eyes screw open and you flinch at the hard sunlight that pours in from the window. as you use the inner portion of your elbow to shield your gaze, you catch glimpse of a very familiar figure in the doorway.

“captain shinmon?” you inquire, propping yourself up onto your elbows. he closes the door behind him. you’re certain that you looked like a loyal dog sat panting and wagging its tail upon discovering the return of their owner.

“excited to see me?” he remarks in a flat tone, opening the grocery bag he’s carrying before setting a few things down onto your nightstand. it’s mostly medicine, though he snags a few of your favourite snacks and drinks. there’s also one of those fascinating green tea bottles that you buy at the vending machines, except they’re served piping hot.

“how’re you feeling?”

“i told you i was going to get sick if we had the water that cold.” you huff, averting your gaze in a fit.

“not my problem you can’t take a little temperature difference”

“a little? that shit was freezing! how the hell can you take water that cold?”

“how can you not?”

you chuckle a little, shifting to stare up at the ceiling.

“don’t you have paperwork to do?”

“you know i don’t do paperwork. sure as hell not gonna start doing it now.” benimaru huffs, kicking his boots off by the door. you can hear his clothes rustling and your head snaps to face him. he shoots you a glare, as though to scold you. it’s dripping on his face. ‘really? you’re so eager.’

“move up.” he cocks his head to the side, motioning for you to move over. you shift up, room spinning a little too much for your tastes. the mattress dips with his weight and his right arm (our left) reflexively hangs in the air for you to dip your head into the crook of where his shoulder and collarbone meet. he discards his navy kimono, the article of clothing hangs on one of the hooks at the back of your door. it’s probably not much comfort for him to be relaxing in a bed with half of his uniform still on.

you squish your face against his hard chest, head rising and falling in time with his breathing. the said arm relaxes and his hand rests against your shoulder. subsequently, you realise this is the first time you’ve seen him fully without his kimono on. at the very least, he’d still have the other sleeve on.

benimaru notices your blatant staring at his other arm. he can’t comprehend why you’d gawk at it now, since he’s used it plenty of times to choke you.

he hums a small ‘hm’ in question, asking you what you’re so fascinated about. you can feel his voice thrum and rock against his chest, it sends small shivers licking your body that he doesn’t miss.

“you look so funny without your kimono on. why don’t you wear it like this more often?” you drag your nails softly against his biceps. there’s a small groan that hisses from him. as you await his response, you outline a large vein that runs from his upper arm and trails down all the way to his wrist.

“i get cold easily.”

“then why did you take a shower with me?”

“are you hearing yourself?”

surely a little bit of his body temperature was enough to sacrifice. even if it meant he was sneezing a little bit and shivering afterwards.

“seriously? you can take a tranquiliser but you can’t stand a little cold?”

“you’ll make a shitty wife if you can’t even keep me warm.”

“beni!” you hiss at benimaru in appaul, craning your face up to guffaw at him. the manners on him sometimes are despicable.

you pout, shifting your upper weight to flick benimaru in between his eyebrows. he screws his face in mutiny, lips curled into a scowl.

you and him both know that if it were anyone else flicking him like that, they’d be sent crashing through six different blocks of houses down the street.

“oi.” he warns you, tutting.

“konro come by and work some voodoo magic bullshit on you? ‘cause you’re testing your luck by pissing me off. you’re such a menace when you’re sick, it’s unbelievable.”

you hum in awe, inching your face closer towards his. there’s a wave of mockery that paints your face green and you can only laugh at the unrest that swirls in benimaru’s eyes.

he won’t have his pet talking down to him like that. no, no. that just won’t do.

“oh? really? you want me to do it again?” you flash him a cocky smirk, digits curled into a flicking position. you rest the bridge of your middle finger against benimaru’s forehead, slicking some of his charcoal stained locks out the way.

his left hand flies to catch your hand in an instant. with just two of his fingers, he can wrap himself around your wrist. his touch is assertive, firm. he can drag you the fuck away from him as he pleases, but there’s no real malice or force behind him just yet.

“yeah? try me.” he barks, peering down at you through his lashes.

you just might.

#?? i hope he sounds okay?#his dialogue was extremely finicky to me #i’ve heard lots of people complain that their or someone elses beni sounded ooc so ihope thats not the case here #benimaru shinmon #benimaru x you #benimaru x y/n #benimaru x reader #fire force x y/n #fire force x reader #fire force x you #fire force #fire force imagines #fire force self insert #fire force smut #fire force hcs #fire force headcanons

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ghost-like-pale · 3 years

Text

fuckin' perv

info: some gross guy thinks you're his, sapnap thinks otherwise. 》 female clothing/anatomy, they/them pronouns 》 irl + romantic 》 1.4k words

warnings: (sexual) harassment and assault, physical fighting, hurt/comfort, swearing

a/n: ty for the support on my last piece ♡ please enjoy

this blog it meant as a way of coping with trauma/mental issues, please don't report it. if you don't want to see what i write, please just block me.

——♤——

the evening sun shone an orange glow over the city. the chatter of the citizens rang through the streets past all the tall buildings, the cars and taxis making their way to their patron's destinations and the smell of your favorite restaurants wafted past the pavement. you've grown up in the city, getting used to it, yet never getting bored.

all of these memories made you think about your boyfriend; he was a real country boy - born and raised in texas and everything. it never failed to bring a smile to your face whenever he pointed out a particularly tall office or a pretty neon 'open' sign.

something he's never been very fond of is the people. specifically older men. they always had a certain look on their face as you walked by, making him swing an arm around your hip or slipping a hand in your pocket. he's always been quite protective over his lover. you didn't mind, though.

—

there wasn't much time to reminisce on your loverboy right now - you were going to see him today! your car broke the day before, so with great displeasure you had to take the bus. you hated public transport. everyone was so close to each other, the air was stuffy and there was always someone to make you horribly uncomfortable.

you pulled your mask further over your nose when you reached the stop. the small space was bordered by plastic panels and a poster for some music event, nothing of interest. the sound coming from your earbuds made your foot tap the the rhythm until the bus finally emerged from the passing traffic.

the ride was peaceful, which made you strangely wary - like a calm moment before the storm. you didn't mind the busride being quiet, but the feeling never shook.

after waving at the busdriver and thanking him kindly, you hopped off the vehicle onto the concrete pavement. three other people walked out with you; and old couple, one holding a walker and a 20-something year old man. the clicking of his tongue grew impatient as he got stuck behind the couple. after a moment the two elders managed to get off the bus safely and the man could finally get to his stop.

you didn't pay them any mind, you wanted to see sapnap as soon as possible. you kept walking at a brisk pace, growing more exited with every step. after passing and crossing a few streets you started to feel uneasy. feeling eyes drilling right through your back, you rummaged in your bag and pulled out a small handheld mirror and lip gloss. as you were applying your gloss you glanced behind you, scanning the faces you could catch from within you peripheral vision.

you were surprised to see the impatient man from the bus stop a few feet behind you. now realizing the situation, you hastily stuff everything back into your bag and start walking again, this time quicker than before. the stabbing look didn't shake, however.

you were getting more anxious as it got darker and the crowds became scarce. the destination was on the edge of the city, where there was nothing other than small stores and the occasional crappy apartment building. the pavement was easy to see if you looked down; no polished dress shoes, no sneakers, no stilettos, nothing. just the occasional group of chatting teenagers passing by or an overworked retail worker walking home.

with every frantic step forward he seemed to get one step closer. the sound of your feet tapping on the floor came to a halt as you arrived at a crosswalk with a red light. the man hummed an unorganized tune and stood behind you and casually waited for the light to turn green. everytime you'd move, so would he. the brief moment waiting in front of the crosswalk felt like centuries.

—

ding. the pole emitted a bright green and you sighed in relief. you rushed over to the other side of the street, making sure not to hit someone on the way there. as you were moving along you suddenly felt a hand on your back, slowly gliding down over your-

"what are you doing?!"

the panic in your voice didn't phase the man, though he did take his hand off your lower half and placed it on your neck instead. he slowly backed you into a small alleyway while muttering a response.

"calm down, cutie. it's just a hand."

you slapped his hand off yourself, losing the hope you had when you realized you were the only one with him on this block.

"let me go, you creep!"

this response to his 'compliment' didn't please him; he harshly grabbed you by the roots of your hair and pushed you against the cold brick wall of a corner store.

"listen here, bitch. you're gonna listen to me real good, and you're gonna obey everything i tell you, understood?"

you whimpered in pain, shutting your eyes and tears dipping at your chin.

"understood?!"

with another yank at your hair you mewled and nodded hastily. this seemed to satisfy him.

"good. now, let's have some fun, shall we?"

his hand rested on your thigh and gradually made its way up, under your skirt until it hit your underwear. the other was around your wrists, holding them both with his larger hands to the side of your head. his feet trapped yours, putting his weight on your toes so you wouldn't kick him.

"ngh-!"

"heh, can't handle stimulation, can you? guess this will be more fun than i imagined- ugh!"

the man was knocked back harshly, the hand that connected with his face quickly retreating to the body it belonged to. sapnap. the man felt his jaw, there was blood dripping off his lip.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO THEM?!"

sapnap boomed in anger at the man. before he could even think of an answer he was hit again by the same hand. sapnap was now right next to you, him seeing your trembling figure in his peripheral vision. once he was sure that gross excuse of a person was going to stay down he turned to you.

his entire body language changed; his arms turning from tense limbs into a welcoming place to rest in, his chest forming into a warm pillow to fall into, his eyes from a slaughtering rage into a kind and sympathetic expression. your tears were already flowing as you sank into his embrace. he engulfed you completely, shielding you from everything and anyone, soothing the intense fear and horror you just experienced.

"you're okay now, baby. i got you, i got you."

his tone was smooth like honey, the words pulling you further in his secure clutch. the screaming must've attracted a few people, because before you knew it your hug was interrupted by him gently loosening his grasp and lowering his voice.

"we should get home, we don't want this hellhole to become a exhibition. here-"

he unwrapped his arms and pulled his grey hoodie over his head and handed the clothing article to you.

"wear this, baby."

you accepted his hoodie and threw it over your upper body. when you were finished sapnap grabbed your hand and guided you out the alleyway and turning a corner. his car was parked a little further.

"i wanted to give you a nice ride through the outer city, but i think you'd rather be home, am i right?"

you nodded. your face was stung by the wet streaks on your face with the cooling air hitting your features. you eventually reached the car, sapnap sitting down into the driver's position and you plopping down onto the passenger seat.

—

the soft revving of the car's engine made for a nice background noise as you drove over to sapnap's house. you reached the destination quicker than expected. time didn't feel like it was passing at this point.

your legs refused to move, even when sapnap opened the door for you. sapnap, understanding the situation, picked you up bridal-style and carried you and your bag out the vehicle.

—

your body was weak, both from the late hours of the night and your vivid memory of what happened about half an hour ago. the mattress sank next to you as you snuggled further under the covers. sapnap radiated warmth, making you move your body towards him and latching onto him like a koala.

"rest, angel. we'll talk about it in the morning."

his voice reverberated in his chest, the vibrations bringing you comfort. his hand found a good spot on the top of your head, lightly pushing it into him.

"good night, (y/n)."

you hummed as a response before passing out. sapnapchuckled at your cute resting face.

"sleep well, baby. you deserve it."

—

thank you for reading. please don't be too harsh on me, heh

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enjennie · 3 years

Text

Stay [ Lee Jeno x Reader ]

Summary: You find yourself in a dark room at a party underneath the basketball captain Lee Jeno. And he might just have a thing for you.

genre: Smut! (minors begone!) Fluff.

warnings: contains smut and profanity. losing virginity + unprotected sexc time (pls practice safe segz)

a/n: my second smut ... i’m still testing the waters and this isn’t proofread but i just wanted to write smth to destress. also yes there is lack of foreplay bc im not too familiar with writing that yet but i hope it's not too bad !! enjoy ♡

The room was both dark and unfamiliar, but you push yourself into it without a second thought. Jeno’s arms are wrapped around your waist securely, lips molded together in an electrifying kiss that sent waves of euphoria all over your body. Jeno wasn’t any more familiar than the room. Not to you, of course. You knew all about him, but not the other way around. You were a stranger to him. Or so you believed. But none of that mattered to you in the moment. It should have. Yes. You kissed him. Yes. You initiated it. So why were you so confused on why it was leading to a very heated make out and possibly into… sex?

The music from the party you’d both left downstairs is muffled by the shutting of the door but what was really drowning it out was Jeno taking you into another world of your own as his lips drift from yours down to your neck while his hands touch you in places you’ve never been touched before. It all felt like a dream. But his voice brings you back to reality, proving that this all was in fact real.

“Are you okay with this?” he breathlessly asks. You’d both gone from the door and were now on the bed, with him towering over you looking mighty as ever. Godlike. Jeno the basketball team captain, whom you’ve crushed on for years was in front of you, had just kissed you back. You gave him a nod, not having it in you to construct a sentence by how baffled you were. “You’re not…drunk, are you?” he tilts his head to the side, inspecting your face in the dim light the moon provided.

��I barely had anything to drink,” you shyly confessed. You’d been throwing out your drink in bushes and every shot you took were mostly infused with soda. But Jeno knew. Jeno noticed it all. He chuckled, dipping his head closer to yours. Close enough that he caught a whiff of your perfume, close enough to hear how your breath hitched in your throat with the sudden proximity between you two. “Me too,” he quietly whispers into your ear.

So why was this happening right now? If it isn’t because of the heavy alcohol intoxicating you both to make unsure decisions, why were you in a room with Jeno when you were both very much sober and aware of what was going to happen? It wasn’t like you were the only girl at this party. Why was basketball captain Lee Jeno in the room with you, student council secretary Y/N, right now? Isn’t it an odd pairing?

You couldn’t think about any of that. Not when his lips are on yours again and they’re all you could think about. It didn’t take long before his shirt was on a pile on the floor along with yours. Jeno drew circles on your waist with his thumb as he grinded against your needy area. Your fingers laced through his while the other found itself entangled in his hair. Jeno let out a low growl when you pulled on his roots, and you can’t keep the smug smile from appearing on your face at the thought of him reacting this way because of your doing.

He didn’t waste a second more, he lined his tip against your entrance after pushing your skirt up and panties aside and thrusted himself inside you, making you yelp louder than you’d intended. You forgot to mention the fact that you were a virgin. Never have gone past the third base. Jeno drew in a sharp breath at your tightness and seemed to notice that the sound you’d made was more pain than it was pleasure. The boy propped himself up to peer at you. “Are you okay? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gone so rough,” he apologized, concern flooding his face.

“I’m… I’m a virgin,” you let the cat out of the bag. It settled in the air for a while, hovering above the both of you in the dead silent room. You couldn’t look at his face. Out of embarrassment and shame. But Jeno placed a hand against your face, framing it and letting you look into his honey brown eyes in the darkness. “You’ve never done it before?” he whispers.

I ruined it. You thought. Maybe I should’ve told him I’ve already done it…

“C’mon,” he snaps you back into reality by pulling away and you see him holding his hand out to you. You stare at it, not knowing what to do in this situation. “Give me your hand,” Jeno smiled softly at you, his face completely changed as if he isn’t balls deep inside you right now.

You take his hand and he threads your fingers together, gripping yours firmly in his and pushing it down on the mattress. “Hold onto me, tell me how you like it,” Jeno shifts his body, pulling himself out of you, leaving you empty. Hollow. The friction made you gasp for air, which melted into a moan. You let your nails prick him on the hand from how hard you were holding his as he entered once again, slower this time. The stretch was painful, but so good. Jeno watched your face change from depicting pain to a mixture of pleasure. Such a sinful expression on an angelic face. You could feel him get harder inside you as he continued to thrust in a controlled pace.

“You okay” he asked softly. His mouth is by your ear and you can hear his soft panting. You let out a hum, too overwhelmed by what you were feeling to make up a reply. “Use your words, baby,” he urged.

“I feel great,” you breathlessly sighed back, just as his tip hit a new spot that felt otherworldly. “Fuck-,” you moaned. Jeno paused, biting on your neck, trying to restrain himself from going fucking you senseless.

“Keep going,” you directed. Jeno’s eyes grew dark from hearing your sultry voice telling him what to do. He pushed himself deeper, earning a delicious moan from you. Jeno bucked his hips and continuously rammed himself into you, filling you up with each thrust. He was pushing you into the soft mattress and had your thighs spread apart to give him space between them.

The sensation you felt gradually built up in your stomach as you cried out his name, your moans filling the empty room. Shutting your eyes and letting yourself indulge in the feeling Jeno gave you, the knot in your stomach tightened. He peppered your chest with kisses before his thrusts began to get sloppier, you noticed he was close. You let yourself look up at him and the sight of you was enough to send him to the edge as a string of curses along with your name escaped his mouth as he came. You clenched your walls around Jeno as you felt your orgasm hit moments after. Jeno slowed his pace down before pulling out completely and collapsed beside you, falling on the mattress of the poor stranger’s bed where you’d just lost your virginity in.

Your head was spinning and your hearts hammering as you came down from your highs. You turn to him, pushing your skirt down to cover your thighs.

“Did you enjoy th-,”

“That was amazi-,”

You both interrupt each other as you spoke, and you chuckle as he let you go first.

“That was amazing,” you finished your sentence. Jeno looked at you, his smile prominent on his face and his eyes displaying crescents. “Yeah? You’re not too bad yourself, made me forget that this is Hyucks’ parents bed,”

That was enough to get you to spring off of the bed, looking back at it in horror. Jeno cracks up laughing, sitting up and reaching for your shirt before handing it over to you and pulling his own over his head. “Let’s go somewhere else,” he says, his tone suggestive. You knew it was to ask for a greenlight. It was surprising he even wanted to spend more time with you after the sex. The question brought a smile to your face as you put your shirt back on.

“Let’s get out of here,” you tell him. Jeno smiled at you, pushing the hair that covered his view behind your ears.

That night, as you and Jeno sped away in his convertible with the top down, you let the cool wind run through your hair and engulfed the summer breeze. Jeno watched in awe, while he drove you to the hill with the best view of the city. He didn’t know how this was happening, when you both had never spoken before. It was always him and his little crush on you, going unnoticed. Shy glances from across the room at the girl who thought she was invisible when in fact you brought light into every room you walked into, almost like the sun followed you around.

But it was senior year. Fuck it, he thought. He’d heard you got into the college of your choice and it wasn’t in town. Jeno had decided on a whim that night, as he watched you bob your head to the song playing while mouthing the words along, that he was gonna tell you how crazy in love he was for you. When you disappeared into the hallway looking for the toilet, Jeno had followed you in a rush. To profess his adoration for you, tell you how you were the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. However, before he could spit it out, you’d kissed him. You didn’t know what came over you, in the moment it just felt right. It turns out to be the best decision you’ve ever made.

He pulled over, and you admired the view upon you. Twinkling lights from the bustling city of traffic and skyscrapers. Jeno turned the engine off, leaving you both in the sounds of nature around you. Crickets and the distant sign of life in the city. Cars beeping and music playing from different homes as seniors were having their party to celebrate the end of examinations. You looked at Jeno and he cupped your cheeks with his hand before pulling you in for another sweet kiss.

Unreal.

He pulled you easily onto his lap. How could you be so comfortable with a man you’ve technically just met? You felt like you could trust him with your life.

“We skipped all the formalities,” you murmured as you dipped your head close to his. Jeno lowered his gaze to your lips which made you subconsciously wet them with your tongue. He smiled sheepishly, leaning in and giving you a peck. “Then let’s start from the beginning,” He plants a kiss on your lips before pulling away after each one. “Hi-,”

Kiss.

“My name is-,”

Kiss.

“Lee Jeno,”

Kiss.

“Will you go out with me?”

#lee jeno #jeno smut #jeno fluff #nct jeno #jeno lee #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct fic #jeno fic #jeno scenarios #jeno imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct imagines #jeno au #nct dream au #nct au

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lady-o-ren · 3 years

Text

The Dig

You can read this on ao3 // HERE //

Suffolk, England

1939

“What's going on in Sutton Hoo, then that has you in such a hurry?”

James Fsaser reluctantly looked up from where his head had been braced on his leather satchel, clutched atop his knees, and gave the old ferryman a one-eyed stare.

“I've a job. Digging,” he swallowed, trying mightily to keep himself from retching as the wee boat he was in bobbed up and down like a mad carousel.

“You came all the way from Scotland to dig like a dog?” He laughed hoarsely, hawking up a wad of phlegm into the murky river water as he swung his oars.

“Ipswich,” Fraser muttered, turning a bit more green.

Ipswich Museum to be exact.

He'd been hired to help excavate a centuries old burial site located at a rural estate in Sutton Hoo, overseen by the archeologist, Dr. Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. A woman much admired (or envied depending on the man) for her keen mind and boundless curiosity (and unrivaled stubbornness that often spiraled into outright defiance according to those same particular men) that had her uprooting half of Great Britain in pursuit of the secrets hidden beneath the mossy plains. And more often than not her instincts were right and another antiquity would be dusted off to be reborn again.

Fraser wasn't sure what he'd done to earn the right to work by her side but Christ, he wouldn't question how lucky he was.

The boat then suddenly coasted to an abrupt stop against the rivers side.

“Here we are, Mr. Fraser. All in one piece. And I thank you for keeping me boat and boots tidy,” said the old ferryman with a wink.

Fraser didn't bother with a retort, he was just happy that the world had blessedly stopped spinning and hopped onto wonderfully solid land.

Smoothing the wrinkles from his attire and fixing his father's old grey cap atop his head (taking special care to tuck in his dark ginger curls that always peeked out from just under the rim), he made his way down the brambled path that the old man said led to the big house. After a brief introduction with the owner of the estate, he was then directed to where he'd be working, and trotted past the trees and sprawling country green to an open field.

From afar, Fraser could see three burial mounds jutting from the earth, grassy topped with yellow dandelions sprouting all over.

But what made his breath catch was the sight of the woman he'd been so eager to meet.

She was surveying the site with her hands on her trousered waist looking like a general on the cusp of conquest. Sensing his approach, she turned away from her prize and future glory, her short curls bouncing and gleaming a rich shade of earth in the dewy sunlight, and met his gaze with her own.

Sharp with intelligence. Kindled with mirth. Shimmering like molten gold.

"A Dhia," Fraser whispered to the fragrant spring air, and took off his cap, twisting it between his hands that ached to trace and memorize every curve of the archeologist's face.

She waved him over seeing him linger and a terrible heat sprang to the young lad's face at having been caught staring at the beauty like a halfwit, and forced his legs to move. Prayed he didn't fall flat on his face.

"Hullo there," she greeted, and clasped her small hand to his, but there was nothing dainty about its grasp. Fraser could feel the years of hard-earned experience chiseled in her palm that held his hand firmly, letting him know exactly who he'd be working for.

It sent a thrill down his spine.

"I'm Dr. Claire Beauchamp. And you must be the very late Mr. Fraser I've been waiting for."

"Aye, and I beg yer pardon for that, ma’am," Fraser replied in earnest, detecting a subtle spike of irritation in her voice, seeing the annoyed flick of her brow. "The morning train was running late.” By three hours! “ Then I had to wait for the ferryman to take me across the river -" He'd been taking his "tea" in the pub " - all a lousy excuse, I ken, but I promise ye it willna happen again."

Beauchamp crossed her arms and tipped her head to the side giving Fraser a scrutinizing once over that made his throat bob and the blood in his heart to palpitate.

"Good," she smirked, nodding her approval from his noticeable discomfort. "If you're anything like how the stiffs at Ipswich Museum described we'll get along well."

He clenched his jaw at the mention of the museum, the cantankerous men who worked there. Especially a certain Dr. Randall, who valued a good cigar over the work of a “farm boy”.

"And what do they say of me, if I may ask?"

Beauchamp bit her full bottom lip (wonderfully pink Fraser bashfully noted), quirking wryly.

“Quite a lot depending on who you ask. From what I've gathered you're hardworking, painfully intelligent and have an innate knack for reading the earth. But that you're also highly unorthodox, difficult and the most insufferable Scotsman ever to step foot in Ipswich. So naturally I had to work with you."

He let out a tightly held breath and chuckled softly.

"Weel, who am I to argue wi' a reference like that. I'm passionate about my work and little else, apart from food and kin. And while I've never been disrespectful to reason, I haven't the patience for men who think a title is deserving of my unquestionable fealty."

"And why should you? The conviction of a Viking is something to be admired not belittled,” she praised, making Fraser glow. "I only wish I could've been there to witness how you earned the ire of half the museum.”

“I'm merely in the right and they the wrong, more often than not,” he shrugged.

“I'm just as terrible,” she proudly grinned. ”But I know we'll make a good team. We'll have to if we want to tackle this lot.”

She motioned her head at the site looming tall, brimming with excitement that spoke to Fraser's own spirit.

"If that's so then it'll be an honor working wi' ye, ma'am."

He shook her hand once more and thought he felt her thumb move against his knuckle, light and curious as a brush stroke.

Working with two assistants from her previous digs (the studious Jeremy Foster and the wide-eyed youth Elias Pound), Fraser and Beauchamp made great strides in plowing the core of the mound that was the larger of the three, even when logic argued that the dip in the middle meant thieves of the past had already plundered it's horde.

But Fraser's gut and bones told him that there was something different about this one.

Beauchamp had thought so too.

"There's something grand and marvelous here begging to be found. Don't you think? Can't you feel it?"

The deeper they dug only intensified that feeling.

As had his attraction to the irrepressibly brilliant Dr. Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp.

However, after a fortuitous streak of good weather, the air started to blow with the sweet scent of rain and the leaves of the oak trees that dotted the lush clearing turned toward the skies, parched and longing.

"We have some time, I think, before the rain comes," said Beauchamp, gauging the skies westward still clear of thunderclouds.

Fraser leaned against his shovel in the hollow of earth he stood in, his dirt stained sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and could see the mad impulse to defy mother nature flash in her eyes.

"Usually I'd agree wi' ye, ma’am, but yer hair -" his mouth flicked upward in unbridled appreciation. "Is curling like a tumbleweed."

She pressed a dirt-flecked hand near her temple and felt the wild frizzy pushback of flyaway curls fallen loose from her twisted bun, springing around her face like a mane.

"Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” she huffed. “Have I been like this all morning, Fraser?”

"Pretty much," he grinned, enjoying how her usual regal self pinked across her freckled cheeks and the wee scrunch of her nose.

But Fraser's smile faltered, catching himself for a fool, and averted his attention down to the soil where his heart had fallen. Writhed. Burrowed with the worms and roots.

For what use was it for a man like him to yearn for a woman like her?

He swallowed the hopeless lump in his throat.

"Shall we go for lunch then, wait for the weather to clear?"

Hearing the word lunch, Foster and Pound looked up from their own end of the excavation with hunger in their eyes.

"Did that on purpose did you?" said Beauchamp, throwing an accusatory glance at the ginger lad while trying to gather her wayward curls back to partial respectability.

He gave her a half smile.

"The Almighty is the one making it rain, ma’am. Take it up wi' him."

She sighed and her hands fell to her waist as she took one last disappointing glance above.

"I would if He ever bothered to listen,” she frowned, then gave the other men a nod that made them hoot and holler.

“Numpties,” she mumbled, though did so fondly, and puffed at a rebellious forelock flirting with the wind.

After covering the ditch with a tarp secured to the ground, the men headed for the local pub raucously singing an old drinking song with a few choice words changed.

Our Lady must have been an Admiral, a Sultan or a Queen

And to her praises we shall always sing

A pint for our Lady Beauchamp who fills us up with cheer

A pint for our Lady Beauchamp . . .

Their lady laughed and rolled her eyes, before waving the lads off with a promise to catch up to gather her things, and headed to the shepherd's hut that had been provided by the estate.

Fraser glanced back watching her go, and after a moment's hesitation where he reasoned it would be rude to leave without her, he too told the others he'd forgotten something and went after Beauchamp.

Cursing himself an "EEJIT!" every step of the way.

Inside the hut was a small curtained window softly lighting the room from the back and two wooden scuffed chairs positioned along the side wall with a table snugly fit between them. Beauchamp herself was crouched by the table legs where Fraser had left his satchel but it was now laid open on its side, contents spilled over.

At his unexpected appearance that shadowed the doorway, she turned his way with an apologetic expression.

"I'm sorry, I was just grabbing my bag when I tipped yours over and . . ."

She held up his small green fieldbook opened at the first page.

And white-hot panic flooded Fraser's veins.

"The writing caught my eye," she continued on, seemingly unaware that the poor lad was gripping the doorway for support. "I didn't know you spoke gaelic beyond the odd phrase here and there. That you can even write it too is something of a feat,” she said, impressed by the words secreted on the page.

“Aye,” he managed to breathe, relieved that she hadn't seen a thing. Not a thing! “I don't get much practice living away from home so I speak it in my mind and heart, write letters to my family when I can.”

“You've spoken of a sister, if I'm not mistaken. Older or younger?" She prodded, as if he were a new discovery, and he answered in hopes to distract her from what she still held in her hands.

Felt a fluttering warmth overtake him that she recalled him having a sister.

"Jenny,” he said, as he moved to kneel down beside her to stuff his scant belongings back in his bag. “She's older and feels the need to remind me of that fact whenever we see one another.”

“And you're the brat aren't you?”

Despite his predicament, Fraser couldn't help the grin spreading across his face.

"I was the devil's spawn, aye, but Jen was no angel. We once got into a terrible stramash about our chores on the farm, the way wee bairns do, and I ended up telling her she had a face uglier than a coo, smelled worse than one too. Next I knew, I was being tackled to the ground wi' my face shoved into a ripe pile of coo shite and my sister above me laughing her wicked wee arse off.”

Beauchamp broke into laughter and it made his stomach do a flip.

“I'm sorry, that must've been awful for you, but I think I may love your sister for that.”

“Everybody says so. Not sure it was worth it in the end myself . . .” said Fraser, his voice suddenly trailing off at the end seeing her attention turn back to the page.

His mind spiraled into action.

"But we really should get going before the rain catches us. It looks to be a downpour, a terrible one.”

“Well it's a good thing we're under a roof then isn't it?” She countered, eyes sparkling through her long lashes. “ Besides I'd rather have an impromptu lesson in gaelic on what,” she paused, squinting down at the book opened on her knees. “Baa-mia-’bruu -” means.”

“Bha mi a ’bruadar mun bhròn mhòr,” he begrudgingly corrected, wondering how rude it would be to just snatch his own fieldbook away. But then Beauchamp smiled as if charmed by his voice and echoed back his words with near perfect silky inflections, looking pleased as punch as she did so.

Endearing herself even more to the young Scot's already smitten heart.

“Verra good,” he hummed softly.

“Absolute luck,” she grinned, tapping her fingers atop his writing. “Now tell me what does it all mean?”

He shook his head embarrassed. "You'll think me daft, ma’am."

"I promise I won't."

She said it in such an earnest way, Jamie knew she spoke true. But then a deep rumble of thunder sliced through the air, enough to give Beauchamp a jolt that made her forefinger on the page slip and Fraser's stomach to rip and plummet to the old wood floor.

There, drawn on the page, was Beauchamp's face staring back at her.

“It’s nothing but some wee scribbles,” he stammered to explain, reaching for the book only for her to angle it away.

“You're right about that,” she agreed, her fine brows furrowing as she traced a slim finger to her pencil drawn cheek. “You've made one of my eyes bigger than the other, my nose a dash too long and -"

Her eyes went comically round as she pressed the pages to her chest, a sudden thought coming to her.

"You don't have anyone posed in the nude here do you?"

"O-Of course not! I'd never. I- I'd -"

"Breathe Fraser, I was only teasing you," she nearly giggled, but then her face softened with regret seeing his own face take on the horrible color of a split beet left to shrivel in the sun.

“But really, why bother with me?”

He had no answer but the one that pounded from his heart, a noise like a thousand drums that all struck the same adoring note. She could see it beaming from his face and a hushed silence fell between them as the rain finally came down, hitting the rooftop in a pitter-patter that enveloped her quietly spoken -

“Oh.”

That single utterance had Jamie wishing the rain would flood and swallow him up but it was now or never to speak his heart. No matter that hers would never be his to cherish.

Looking down at his hands, anxiously wringing the strap of his satchel, he spoke.

“There was never any helping it, me liking you. I'd never seen a sight sae fair as you, stubborn as you, nor wonderful as you. And I could never get ye out of my mind, no matter how hard I tried, but ye were always there like the sun and air."

He lifted his gaze to her likeness on the page.

"And then I just started filling my fieldbook wi' pictures of you if only to have something to remind me of you for when the job ends and we part ways. But I'm none so good as ye can see. I never could capture the grit and fire of yer spirit, the way yer curls bristle in excitement or the way yer eyes glow like a match to a candlewick . . . "

His heart tightened as his words faltered while Beauchamp remained quiet. Then like a blow to his chest she flipped through the small book once more, her face unreadable as stone. She looked through his sketches, one of her curls drawn like the ripples of the tide, another of her hands digging through the earth, and of her lush determined mouth curved into a beaming smile, bitten with impatience, beneath a perfect speckled nose.

And threaded between her gestures, her features were more bits of gaelic.

A bòidhchead . . .

Tha pian orm . . .

Tha cho teann sa tha a ’bhriogais gam iomain

"I told you I was no good. I ken I should just rip up the pages -” Fraser began to miserably say, but Beauchamp hushed him by taking his hand in hers and softly stroked her thumb against the work-hardened skin.

"You have a fine hand, Fraser. Especially for making my nose look as delicate as Garbo’s,” she smiled, cheeks touched lovely in pink.

Then in a moment that made it hard for Fraser to breathe, she simply said . . .

“Ask me for a drink.”

He blinked, thinking he misheard her, mouth agape. But there was no mistaking what brightened her eyes to shine like whisky.

“Ask me,” she repeated impatiently, almost laughing, as she squeezed his hand.

Fraser inhaled sharply and tentatively squeezed her small hand back.

“Will ye join me for a pint, ma’am?”

“Claire,” she grinned, and coyly tilted her head . “And of course I will. Took you long enough to ask,” she winked, making Fraser stare at her in charmed disbelief.

And then Beauchamp closed the distance between them, hand light as a feather against his chest.

“But first you ought to kiss me, Fraser. It's still raining and I might catch a chill from all this waiting."

Still staring at her mesmerized, with questions that could wait another day flitting through his mind, Fraser wove an errant bonnie curl around his fingers and smoothed it behind her ear. Letting his thumb drag against her cheek.

“It's Jamie,” he murmured, in a brush of his lips to hers.

And on and on it went.

Bha mi a ’bruadar mun bhròn mhòr. . .

I dreamt about the mourning. The deaths of great men. Terrible men. Old and young. Of Kings lost in battle buried beneath us. They cried out to me and the Earth came to life and twisted her roots around me, dragging me inside her womb. Dark and cold, breathless like a cave. But I wasn't frightened. I saw lights rushing around me, bright as the twilight sky. The souls that lie ahead. Surrounding us.

They brought me to you.

A/N: This had a ton of notes and explanations so you can read all those on ao3. But for sure I’ll say here this is very loosely based on the movie The Dig.

#jamie x claire #Outlander #outlander fic #outlander fanfiction

90 notes · View notes

keilemlucent · 3 years

Text

lavender latte xi (no longer canon)

NOTE: Chapters X and XI are not longer considered canon in Lavender Latte.

....

(explicit, r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

|| series masterlist ||

word count: ~6.8k

beta’ed: @hawnks (thank u!! 💕)

heat in two ways

warnings: spicy content, a little bit of overstimulation. enjoy, loves ;^)

...

a/n: a little recap from last chapter, because its been awhile! keigo and reader ‘nested’ together after that nasty little panic attack from a few chapters ago. and now? guess you gotta see find out!! ;^) enjoy my loves!!!!

Things felt calmer, later. Your combined world had settled into the sheets with slumber.

Thank god.

When you both awoke, the sun was just beginning to set.

The light that filtered in from the cracks in the curtains was amber, painting orange streaks across your dark bedroom.

The two of you had shifted, somewhat, perhaps falling even deeper into the nest you’d made, the softness of it forming to the contours and curves of your snuggled-up bodies.

It was cozy, burrowing your face into Keigo’s chest, hardly awake and vaguely aware of the way his hands pressed wide against your lower back.

You felt melted in the best way.

“Comfy,” The word slipped from your lips without much thought, snuggling closer.

Your skull was no longer throbbing, neither was your hand or foot.

It just felt calm, the only sensations Keigo’s breath and heart, and the ambient hum of the rest of the world.

“Am I now?” Keigo chuckled from above you, voice crackling with sleep. “I have to say the same about you.”

You made a high sound in the back of your throat, shifting the slightest bit to drag your lips along his throat, bearing into the flesh with the barest drags of your teeth.

He shuddered, squeezing the fat around your hips.

Maybe it was that your mind was still somewhat raw, but you were feeling particularly gooey.

Maybe, it was that your mind didn’t have the will or the way to be too guarded, not when you felt so safe, especially in contrast to the hellish mindscape you’d been in hours before.

Not that you remembered it all that well— and good, you didn’t want to.

Your only bits of lucidity were in the present.

And god, did that feel good.

Keigo tended to wake up quickly.

It was just how he ticked, as tired as he was at any given time, he could always pull himself to wakefulness so quickly.

With you, all warm and fucking perfect against his side, it was both a blessing and a curse.

Sure, he could’ve gotten to sleepily awaken with you, if his body hadn’t startled him from REM sleep the moment you shifted and whined against him.

Though, being awake meant he got to watch you wake, and that in and of itself was a privilege he coveted.

It was new, even with the few ‘sleepovers’ the two of you had shared, all that sleepy peace was nearly untouched. The stillness and natural slowness of it was something that Keigo had come to crave.

He traced shapes against your ribs, leaning into the feel of you.

“How are you feeling?” His words were muffled into the top of your hair.

“Good.”

“Very descriptive.”

“‘M sleepy,” You truly whined, twisting your legs with his own. “Don’t wanna think right now, Kei’.”

He suppressed a shiver at the little nickname on your lips.

“That can be arranged,” Keigo hummed, pulling a blanket higher on your shoulders. “Do you want to keep sleeping? I can run out and grab some food?”

There was a moment of silence before you sniffled, burrowing your face into his neck.

Still so fragile.

“D-don’t leave yet, okay? Just a little more, please,” Your voice was pitched up with sleep, wobbling as Keigo felt the smallest tears begin to wet his sleep shirt.

His heart sank.

“I’m not leaving, not unless you ask me to,” He murmured into your hair. “I’ll keep telling you that as long as I need to.”

The multiple meanings of his words mostly went over your head, yet you felt overwhelming and instant relief of knowing that Keigo wouldn’t be leaving your nest on his own volition anytime soon.

The assurance made your heart swell, even if your tired mind couldn’t swim in the depths of his tone.

All the same, you sucked in a breath before pulling him down into a needy kiss.

It was reminiscent of the kind that you’d shared earlier. All desperate and clawing for grounding and stability in touch.

Keigo gave it freely in the same way you gave it without knowing.

He nipped at your bottom lip, relishing the high keen that pulled from the back of your throat.

You’d done this all before, heated kisses and much-needed touches, but there had always been a line to stay away from. Especially on such an intense day, the last thing Keigo wanted to do was push your limits.

But, maybe you wanted to.

You tugged at Keigo’s waves, snuggling closer in time with the way you kitten-licked into his mouth.

He groaned, shifting against you. You moved with him, craving him in any way you could get.

His leg shifted between your thighs. Immediately, you squeezed around it, feeling his own tight, lean muscle.

You’d gotten good at repressing your desire for his touch, barring yourself from any contact that could push past your threshold toward overstimulated disaster. Maybe, you had been overcautious, but it seemed better than scaring Keigo away with your potential shortcomings.

Wound together in the heat of your ‘nest’, though?

Your quirk and mind had already detonated and didn’t have anything left in you besides fumes. All that burned in your gut was the swell of want and heat.

You ground against him, barely, whining against his lips.

Your heart panged a bit when Keigo pulled back, lips wet and pupils wide.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you carefully rolled your hips against, the hardening bulge in his joggers pressing against your navel.

“I want to feel you,” It slipped out desperate and sticky as you locked your hands around the back of his neck.

It was more than okay, better than okay.

“I promise, I’ll stop us if anything gets to be too much,” You told him, a little more sheepish as Keigo stared up at you, wide-eyed.

His lips parted as his words got lost between his mind and mouth. His hands stayed still at his sides by sheer power of will.

“I just...” Your voice wobbled as you rubbed at your eyes. “Is this okay?”

You were too soft for too much, but Keigo didn’t mind; he never did.

“Very.”

He pulled you down by the collar of your shirt to show you how ‘okay’ it was.

Admittedly, he was needy with his touches. His palms cupped your ass, squeezing and massaging over your shorts. Keigo had been holding himself back in the weeks prior without issue, but getting more of you, in any way was intoxicating.

That was not to say that he didn’t keep in mind your fragile state, no, he just made sure his touch was firmer, and his breath ran hotter.

Sensation served as a gentle reminder that ‘Keigo was right there, and he wasn’t letting you go.

You kept a tight grip on his sweater as he flipped the two of you, nudging your booted-leg to splay out comfortably.

“Fank’ you,” You mumbled against his lips, chasing them for a moment as he drew away.

“Of course,” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, trailing lower to nip at your neck.

You whimpered when he reached a particularly sensitive patch

“This okay?” Keigo hummed.

“V-Very,” You replied, playing with the hem of his cropped sweater. “Please keep going.”

(Like you had to ask.)

You kept an eye on your fragile state, but with how little there was left in you and the quiet of the surroundings, there wasn’t much to watch. All you could feel was the roll and heat of each other’s bodies. There was nothing else to ring loudly in your skull.

Just Keigo and you, twisted up in each other and the bedding of your nest.

Perfect.

You snuck your hands up the back of his sweater, running your nails down his back, just barely teasing at the roots of his outstretched wings. Teasing him was easier than you’d thought it’d be, considering you knew how gooey he got any time you even got close to his wings.

The shudder he gave you was confirmation of that.

“Careful there,” Keigo warned with a chuckle. Despite his laughter, you could feel the way his breath stutter with each sweet touch.

“Why? Whatcha gonna do about it, Kei’?” You grinned back, smitten, as he stilled around your collarbones.

“There’s plenty I could do,” It was a warning, one that enticed you to no end.

“Oh yeah? Tell me about it.,” You challenged.

“I think you’d like that too much,” Keigo chuckled against your neck. “Seems you’re pretty excited already too, hm?”

A few of his fingers teased at the waistband of your shorts.

He wasn’t wrong.

(At all.)

You scraped your nails along the base of his wings and much to your joy, Keigo’s spine arched and he practically whimpered.

“Cute,” You snorted, rolling your hips up into his. “You’re not so tough, either.”

Something like a growl rumbled from the back of his throat.

“Hush, dove,” Keigo cooed, far too sweetly for how his hands were dipping underneath your shirt. “Neither are you.”

Both of you were so damn doughy for the other, the banter fell away. There was plenty of time for teasing, but both of you were thinking of a very different kind.

Before you could quip back, Keigo was palming at your breast, teasing your pebbled nipple. You bit your lip to suppress a whine, shots of pleasure turning you even gooier and pliant.

“I’m sure you’ve got plenty of soft points,” Keigo sounded all too pleased with himself as he hovered his face over yours. He gave a few slow blinks, pupils blown wide. “And I cannot fucking wait to find them all.”

...

If you hadn't soaked through your panties before, you certainly had now.

Keigo could do anything to you, you decided. Having him over you, all sleep golds and heat was warming your insides in the best ways.

And you wanted more.

You stared up at him, wide-eyed, and quickly melted as your shirt was pushed higher and higher. Every piece of you, raw and needy, wanted Keigo, needed him close, even closer—

And Keigo fed the flames your mutually hot desire without shame.

“I’ve really wanted to learn you like this,” His fingers slowly traced over your side, taking his time to watch you squirm. His voice slowed to drawl, “All the ways I can get you fucked off my touch.”

Oh, what a prospect.

The thought of Keigo wrecking you was only a smidge daunting. It was easy to forget any potential unease when you let your relax against his touch, imagining all of the things he could do to you.

God, did you want him to have his way.

“You’re welcome to t-try,” You gently challenged as Keigo hiked your shirt over your tits, teeth scraping over the skin of your neck once more.

With a chuckle, he lapped at your pulse point, “Gladly.”

Despite his confidence and your waning will, you weren’t to be outdone.

You wound your fingers into the small, fluffy feathers at the base of his wings, teasing the roots with the pads of your thumbs.

In the earlier weeks, you’d found Keigo to be surprisingly sensitive. He joked occasionally about touch-starvation, but you knew there was a fair amount of truth to it. There had to be, with how his breath hitched with even your lightest touch.

His wings were the culmination of that thrumming need and craving for contact, and you were more than willing to exploit this knowledge.

Keigo moaned against your neck with the stroke of your fingers, cursing under his breath. Your light massaging only seemed to spur him on, nails digging lightly into the soft flesh of your chest.

Despite the pricklings of pain, you still felt so soft.

You were too weak for him, all wound up in the softness of the bedding and him, in every sensory sense, to put up too much of your own front. He felt too good not to invite and urge closer.

You tugged him up by the hair on the back of his head, pressing your lips together and stroking your thumbs down his cheeks.

Keigo kept his hips mostly still but was very aware of his own ragingly hard cock. Maybe, he was leaking into his boxer.

Maybe.

You gasped against his lips, all breathy and sweet, “F-fuck, Keigo.”

His mind ran blank, white-hot from the pleasure of mere words.

He mentally repeated your words a few times, in your perfect cadence. The way your breath stuttered in your chest, the heat of your surrounding him, the softness of your body and the break in your voice—

No one had ever said his name like that before and God, did he want more of it.

He’d pull it from his lips as long as you’d let him.

You pulled away only to meet his eyes with your blown pupils and upturned lips.

He calmed himself at the sight, reminding himself carefully that the last thing he would want to do is push you over your invisible edge of overstimulation.

“You okay?” Keigo asked instinctively, running a hand through your hair to soothe any potential ills.

“I-I am, very okay,” You swallowed, “Two things, though.”

“Shoot.”

“One, can you lose this?” You fiddled with the hem of his sweater. “I’m not... sure how to get it off with your wings.”

Yes, yes, yes. Holy fuck.

Maybe, Keigo was acting a bit too needy, but he couldn’t make himself care. With the sweetness on your face and the insistence in your touch, you were right there with him.

Keigo immediately sat up over your hips, tugging his shirt from around the base of his wings.

He swore his heart was going to burst as he took in the absolutely love-drunk look in your eyes. Your throat bobbed as you took him in,

You reached up to run a hand along his navel, visibly swallowing, “Keigo... you’re so gorgeous— it’s kinda overwhelming sometimes. In a good way.”

Fuck his ego being ‘boosted’, more like inflated.

Maybe ego wasn’t the right word. His chest felt too full for it to just be some superficial sense of pride. It all felt too raw and sweet to just be some baseless confidence.

It was that earnestness of yours again, lighting him up from the inside out.

“Sweetness,” The name rolled off his tongue, new and comfortable. “You’re too kind, really. But, I gotta know, what was that second thing you mentioned?”

You blinked back your stupor, shaking your head.

“Uh, fuck, it made more sense before, sorry, it’s alright.”

Keigo frowned, lowering himself back down to brace his arms on either side of your head.

“Nah, tell me, dove. I want to know.”

You bit your lip, turning your head and gaze away. Keigo tapped your chin back to center, nuzzling into your nose with his own.

“You sure?” You asked softly, hand trailing up and behind his shoulders.

“Of course.”

“Earlier it just seemed like you were... uh—” You averted your gaze again. “Holding back is all. On my neck. You don’t need to.”

Keigo cocked his head to the side, “What do you mean?”

“Like...” You were struggling to get the words out, face heating up. “I would really like it if you marked me up a bit, you know. In that sense. You know?”

The gears turned in his mind, something burning deep in his chest.

If his cock wasn’t rock hard before, it was now.

The thought of marking you, his sweet, somewhat injured partner (mate), up in the comfort of the nest the two of you made together made something stir in his gut and mind.

And fuck, if he wasn’t going to act on it.

Keigo fully slipped your shirt off, trying to take in as much of you with his eyes before his hands and mouth got their turn.

Hungrily, he wound a hand into the hair on the side of your head, pulling to bear your neck shoulder full to him. With a growl, his teeth raked over your neck, hard enough that your moans cracked as they fell.

Without thought, Keigo spoke, earnest and hushed, “You have no fucking idea how much I want to wreck you, do you?”

You swallowed, “Show me then.”

...

That honesty was going to be the death of him and you, he was sure of it.

Keigo held nothing back as he sucked and bit along your neck and shoulders, leaving bruises and marks in his wake wherever he could.

The little glimpses of red and purple had him scalding under his skin.

Much the same for you, notably.

“Fuck, Keigo!” You gasped when he sucked a bruise onto the underside of your breast, lips moving to the bud of your nipple later to massage and suck and tease and generally make you undone.

Your cunt physically ached with the need to be touched, the little bit of friction you could manage from grinding against Keigo pelvis was something, sure, but hardly enough.

Not to mention you wanted to feel more of him too.

“C-Can I touch you? Please?” You asked, breathless and pushed yourself up on your elbows.

Keigo pulled your shirt up and over your tits, panting.

Idly, he traced over the hickeys and bites he’d left.

“How do you want to touch me, dove?”

He left the question open, eyeing you with a half-lidded, nearly black gaze.

You swallowed down any fears you might’ve had, body thrumming, but quirk sufficiently dormant.

You slid your hand between the two of your bodies, cupping Keigo’s cock over his sweats.

“However makes you feel good.”

Keigo’s expression nearly broke, but he retained his composure, barely between his ragged breaths and hungry eyes.

“Can I suck your cock? Please?”

Keigo couldn’t hold back the way his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

You, begging for his cock, bruised and bitten all for him with the sweetest whine to your voice.

“P-please, dove, please.”

Oh, to hear Keigo beg for your mouth, for your touch— for you.

You obliged eagerly.

Keigo slipped off his joggers, palming himself through his boxer as he kneeled in the bedding. His wings had assembled themselves more fully, the red plumage outstretched and almost rippling with the heat of the room.

You knelt below him, mouth watering.

“You sure, sweetness?” Keigo asked, giving you a last chance.

“Very, please, let me make you feel good,” Your voice nearly broke.

It was all the confirmation you needed.

Nimble fingers pulled down the front of his boxers, cock springing up, pearly and wet on the head.

He was curved and thick, darker in the head with a bit of well-groomed blond trimming patched around the base. His balls were fattened, swelling with need and hot to the touch.

Part of you wanted to make a joke, crack some line about how ‘excited’ Keigo was, but your bodily reaction was far louder.

You thumbed at the head of his cock, biting your lip as Keigo tossed his head back, cursing under his breath.

You wanted to hear more of him breathing your touch, you had to.

Leaning forward, you licked away the preek before spitting back onto his cock.

Keigo had to be fucking dreaming because his cock was in your mouth and you were doing so well.

He babbled out sweet praises as you swallowed around him, twisting your wrist and the base and bobbing your head. You always felt so good, but this was a new kind of good, the kind that made his balls tighten and head light.

“W-woah, dove,” He could feel how close he was as he buried a hand in your hair. “Slow down—”

You pulled off his cock was a pop, looking up at him with tear-pricked eyes, “Don’t you wanna come down my throat, Kei’?”

He audibly whined, stroking a finger down the softness of your cheek with a slow nod.

Like that, you were licking up the underside of his cock, pulling him back into your mouth.

His hands tangled into your hair, not pulling too much or too hard, only bracing himself on you as you dragged him closer and closer to the edge.

Keigo reached a gasping end as your nose brushed against his navel, painting your throat white in ecstasy and god, did you let him. His wings stretched and puffed outwards, shuddering and twitching with his high as he choked out a moan against his clenched fist.

Your nails left crescent indents on his hips as he pulled you off his cock, drool and spittle dripping from him and off of your own chin.

You were certain you looked fucked out and fuck, did you feel it.

Blinking up at him with teary eyes, you cracked a wide smile.

“Dove, you’re so good,” Keigo dropped from his knees to smother you in the best possible way. “So, so good.”

He meant it.

He peppered your face with kisses, wiping and licking away any spare spit that stickied your chin. There was so much care in his actions, considering how fucked out he was and filthy the two of you were.

Not that either of you minded.

Keigo had you on your back again, surrounded by softness, as a brief reprieve.

“How was that?” You asked cheekily. “Feeling good?”

“So good, dove,” Keigo sighed, lowering himself against you. “That being said, could I help make you feel good?

You swallowed, assessing yourself.

Your panties were soaked, thighs sticky beneath your shorts. You knew you were ambiently squirming for a fucking crumb to satisfying your craving and need for touch, for him.

“Y-yes,” You stuttered, something akin to relief rushing through you. “Please.”

Keigo didn’t need to be told twice.

His head spun, pleasantly love-drunk in all the best ways. With you splayed out below him, heat singing in your cheeks and heat at the surface of your skin wherever his fingertips drifted.

“Get comfy, dove,” Keigo pushed lightly on your sternum, encouraging you back into the plushness of the nest. He allowed himself a moment to compose himself, trying to calm the tremble in his hands.

Maybe he was a little... nervous.

Not for any good reason. He knew his own prowess, and he was confident that he could easily make you come undone in any number of ways.

The anxiety tied up in his gut and his own perked up arousal made his palms go clammy.

The source of it all was also splayed out before him.

It was you, and that made this feel a hell of a lot more important than any of his previous trysts.

He was stumbling.

You noticed.

Keigo’s jaw tightened visibly, and he chewed at his lip—

All he needs is a little push.

An idea formed in your head.

“Hey, Keigo? Can we try something?”

“Anything,” His gaze refocused, alight and rewarming.

And, God, was his voice fucking desperate and dripping with something hot and infectious.

You stopped your hand at the waistband of your sleep shorts, sinfully soft and thin.

With a shaking breath, you cracked “I-I know I could get overwhelmed, but I trust you, you know? I love you.”

Your breaths hitched in time with each other.

“I love you too,” Keigo’s exhale matched yours, hands finding their home on your hips, “So much.”

The words had a lot in them for how new they were, and you only wanted more held in each syllable.

And preferably, something stuffing your cunt.

You bit your lip, sliding your hand closer to your aching sex, silently praying you’d get your words right.

“Tell me what to do.”

There was a moment of quiet as you tore your gaze from Keigo and you immediately cursed yourself.

“I-I mean–” You tried to backpedal.

Keigo was quick to hush you with a kiss, something deep that made you shudder.

“Elaborate,” As he pulled away, he stayed close, thumbing at your burning cheeks, “How far do you want me to take that statement, dove?”

“Like...” You kept your confidence as strong as you could. “Tell me how to touch myself.”

Keigo was silent for a moment, a shaking breath dripping from his lips as his feathers in all their places practically writhed.

“Gladly.”

Keigo pulled himself together, despite how weak-kneed he felt. His breath out over the back of your neck, his words curling against your ears as he watched your hand linger near your neglected cunt.

Pity.

“First, shorts off.”

You nodded, wiggling out of the soft fabric with Keigo’s help, though he made sure to keep your panties on. Ideas were spinning in his skull, too many, probably, but it wasn’t too hard to narrow down particular pleasures that you obviously needed.

The vulnerability of it all made your insides twist.

How long had it been since you were this bare with another person...

A while.

You had to be gentle with yourself.

And Keigo needed to be soft with you.

He pulled you from your thoughts with a coo, tracing little nonsense shapes on your stomach from between your parted thighs.

“Dove,” Keigo dripped something that made your insides boil. “Touch yourself a little for me. Just over your panties, tease yourself. I want to see you .”

You keened in the back of your throat, going to mush in his arms as two of your fingers traced over the wet patch on your panties.

(Keigo mentally stored that you got off on being told what to do, suppressing the way his eyes wanted to roll back into his skull and ignoring the way his dick switched..)

One of his broad hands ran over your hips, squeezing the fat of your thighs as he coaxed you onto your back.

It was more vulnerable for you like this, almost entirely exposed to him, but in the lowlight and softness of the room, it wasn’t nearly so intimidating.

It helped that within moments, your lips caught his, a moan muffled into his mouth.

As you broke apart, Keigo tugged at the elastic of your panties, “You’ve already gotten these pretty messy, hm? Let’s get them off.”

They followed your shorts onto the floor.

Keigo let his wings do as they pleased as he took you in, watching your expressions, feeling your breath and heartbeat with each twitch of your body.

It was like putting together some divinely crafted puzzle.

He meant it, ‘learning you’, and your suggestion of guiding your own getting off was the perfect time to sample your pleasures, mutually.

You pulled Keigo from his thoughts with a kiss, snaking out a hand to grab his, and pressing it between your thighs.

“Oh? You want me to show you now?” Keigo murmured against your lips, tracing patterns on your thighs.

“P-please.”

Keigo clicked his tongue, eye half-lidded, “You know, I could get used to you begging.”

Any retort died on your lips as he slid two fingers up and down your slit, stopping to roll and circle your clit.

Pleasure burned across your insides in the best way.

You’d craved his touch in this way for so long, why had it taken so long to let him touch you like this?

Maybe, the barest bits of your quirk activated as he rose from your side to slide down your body, little kisses and touches in your wake. Your mouth filled with sweet cream and cinnamon as you caught his gaze, burning and doughy all at the same time.

One of his fingers crooked into your cunt and you swore you saw stars and sweet fruits from that alone.

“Oh, good, dove, let it out,” Keigo’s voice felt too sweet, perfectly, as he kissed your thighs, heating you through and through.

It was all so tender, you could feel stray tears leaking down over your temples.

When was the last time someone touched you like this?

(Never.)

Keigo was supposed to be fast and frizzy, but nothing about the way he licked your cunt was even close to that. He was supposed to be flighty, but with the way he laid between your thighs, sucking at your clit and stretching you on his fingers, he was anything but.

Your hand buried in his hair, your ground against his face, thighs squeezing his cheeks. The heat of it all burned you in the best way, singed you with syrupy fire that you’d wholly let consume you.

“K-Keigo!” Your voice shattered as he massaged at your insides in time with the stroking of his tongue.

You’d thought he’d tease, but he was enjoying this as much as you were, wrapped up in it all.

With your eyes screwed shut, you couldn’t see the way his wings wrapped around and hid the two of you from the world. You couldn’t see how he’d shift his gaze to your slack jaw and watery eyes, all fucked out and open-mouth.

Each sensation of you around him, in the comfort of the little nest you’d made together, made him wild.

Keigo had wondered briefly, how love worked, considering he didn’t know much about it. Not beyond what he’d seen in movies and books, or the fragments of it from his own upbringings. None of his old flings ever held anything close to how he felt towards you.

Love was different than all of what he knew, which is probably what made it so easy.

He had a blank slate to etch with you, and god, if he wasn’t excited.

And only a piece of that was the way he fucked his fingers into your cunt, the wet sounds mingling in his ears with your high moans and little pleads. He could feel you fluttering around his fingers, practically pouring into his mouth.

He drank each drop of you down.

It was all so good—

Too good.

Each touch was like sweet flames, pouring down your throat to your toes and cunt, stirring you up and never letting you settle. Keigo’s tongue and touch were heaven, sweet relief and addicting in every way.

Except when the embers became too hot, burning you instead of warming you. The honey in your mouth went stale and the cinnamon singed like broken glass.

You’d passed over your threshold.

It happened so suddenly, you felt like you were drowning. Your moans choked in your throat, stuffed with wet wool. You grappled with sensation, eyes going wide as your chest began to heave. Burning and floating, you threw your arm over your eyes.

You tried to take a deep breath, but all of the sensation flowing through your fried body weighed too heavily to be fought through.

“W-wait, stop.”

...

Everything had already gone still.

Keigo was far too perceptive and sensitive to let you slip too far.

“You’re okay, we can stop, whatever you need,” Keigo rose, pulling a stray blanket over you as he scrambled for other ways to comfort you.

You reached down, shaky and teary, “N-no more, please, can I hold you?”

Any sort of barriers of shame or reluctance were gone, now that you were fried through and through.

Keigo was at your side in a moment, carefully tucking you into his side after some insistent tugging at his biceps.

“I’ve got you,” He hushed you, pressing his wet lips over your damp crown. “Big breaths.”

“Uh-huh,” You clung to his words, sucking down his scent of sweat and comforting spices. “Big breaths.

Keigo rubbed your back and shoulders as firmly as felt right, resting his chin over your head as you shook against him.

“I promise, I don’t get overstimulated this much,” You whispered in his chest. “This is ridiculous.

“You’ve had a long day, dove,” Keigo reminded you with a laugh. “The fact that you almost came is impressive.”

“... You could tell I was close?”

“Of course. I love you, dove, you know?” Keigo breathed, almost soundless, mostly to himself. “I gotta know that kind of stuff.

But, the room was too quiet and far too still for the words to not to be noticed.

“I love you too,” You kissed the underside of his chin, the stubble still sticky with you. Maybe it was a bit gross, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. With your own light giggle, you shook your head. “I can’t believe my quirk edged me.”

Keigo’s chest rumbled for a moment before he squeezed you, hard, busting into a full fit of laughter that you couldn’t help but join.

And it felt so good.

The last spinnings of your quirk faded as you caught your breaths, Keigo’s airy giggles tickling your nose and sending trailing touches at the base of your spine.

As you caught a glimpse of his bare, dewy chest rising and falling and the sweetest smile you’d ever seen stretched across his lips, you decided you’d do anything to keep it there whenever you could.

A mission of goodness, as pure and idealistic as it was.

Neither of you minded.

You both rested, for however many moments, until you both were able to shift, still leaning into each other, but rising up in your nest.

You wore a sheepish smile as you tucked a bit of Keigo’s unruly waves from his face, “Wanna try that again sometime?”

He went literally soft, leaning into you.

“Anytime,” Keigo kissed your wrist. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

“So you say.”

“And I’ll keep saying it—”

Keigo’s hands squeezed your thighs as he pounced, pushing you back into the sheets, pressing kiss after kiss to your salty cheeks, wings fluttering above the two of you.

It was all perfect, truthfully and truly.

The way you spent the rest of the night held by each other, not as heated as before, but still, just as safely and comfortably. Over a bit of takeout, an endless amount of banter and laughter, and a goodnight’s sleep, you were both feeling miles better than the days and hours before.

It was all as perfect as it could get, between the two of you.

(But, perhaps, the inevitable details would come into play. Perhaps.)

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Keigo felt refreshed for the first time in months when he arrived at his agency the next morning.

He’d gotten to wake with you slowly for once, what a fucking treat, he was sure he’d never tire of it with you pressed again him. After some rolling, early morning kisses, he packed up his things and tucked you back into the nest of sheets to rest as much as you needed.

You’d been quick to drift off, a few of his stray feathers staying close by even in your slumber.

Despite how energized he was, he was sipped on the canned coffee (had it always tasted this bad?) and preparing for his office day.

He waved to his interns, smiling something real with a pep in his step as he entered his seldom used office.

As Keigo organized himself, he practically had to dust off his far-too professional looking desk before setting his bag down, and starting up his computer.

The door clicked open moments later, and a ruffled-looking Akane gave him a stern look from the doorway.

“Hello, Hawks. I need to talk to you—”

“Paperwork will be done by noon, don’t you worry about that,” Keigo laughed off her oblivious irritation as he clicked into his desktop. “I know taking a personal day isn’t really my thing— “

“It isn’t, and this isn’t about your paperwork.”

She reached behind her to click the lock in place.

Keigo’s gaze drifted to the diamond insignia on her breast pocket, almost twin to the one he wore on his bodysuit.

Both wards of the same beast, one could say.

When he was younger, still being trained so ruthlessly, they assigned him ‘handlers’, like some sort of animal. Once he’d gotten his own agency, he’d been assigned Akane, raised and trained in a similar way he had been. Another product of a failed system and an opportunistic, greedy power structure.

They understood each other in that way.

“I said I needed to talk to you two days ago and I meant it,” Akane sighed, shaking her head and approached his desk. “I’ve managed to cover you so far, but I need an answer.”

“...About?”

It wasn’t like her to be cryptic.

Akane fished around in her side bag for a tablet, clicking it to unlock and tapping.

“I know there are things you do that the bosses don’t even tell me about, and that’s how I justified all of this, continually.”

She placed the tablet in front of Keigo, an image displayed and glowing.

His eyes went wide when he saw the picture.

It was him, flying to your balcony. It was late, the warm glow of the nearby streetlights half-illuminating his face, even from far away.

Akane scrolled to another picture, much the same, except taken in daylight.

Keigo bit the inside of his lip to keep on his plastic smile as Akane scrolled through picture after picture, all of him coming and going from your apartment.

A pit was growing in his stomach.

“We’ve been paying tabloids off, blacklisting folks. I know you’ve had a lot on your plate and have been particularly distracted, so I put it on work we aren’t allowed to know about. Still, I wanted some confirmation.”

Keigo’s heart dropped like lead slick with mercury in his chest, a poison feeling spreading over his gut—

“It didn’t seem right though. And then I got some confirmation with this one— “

The next picture made him burn.

“It’s from yesterday morning.”

Yesterday morning.

From the balcony window, the early light was perfect to see directly and clearly into your apartment.

It captured Keigo kneeling on the floor, wings slack and resting on the floor, softened with a concerned quirk in his lips.

He held your forearm in his, pressing an obvious kiss to the back of your bandaged hand.

And then there was you.

You.

Teary-eyed, even in the photo, haggard and tired, but still obviously looking at him with love that made Keigo break in his ribs.

“We caught this one last night. Your publicist is pissed, but I covered for you. That being said, I need an answer. I’m not blind.”

His mouth went dry.

“Who the hell is that, Hawks?”

...

The two of you hadn’t talked about this yet.

The publicity of your relationship, if and when, was something that had been alluded to, but never deeply conversed about. There was too much glowing new love and healing being done to worry about the details.

But now, the details were staring him in the face.

Thank god for his training, and his ability to keep his expression even.

“Sorry about all that!” He laughed, leaning back and propping up his feet. He pushed away the tablet with the toe of his boot. “Just some work and play for a mission. It’s been getting a little... interpersonal, if you know what I mean.”

He wiggled an eyebrow to really sell himself.

Akane met his express with a dry glare.

“... And you took a personal day for that?”

An incongruence.

Keigo kept on his sickly smile as Akane sized him up.

“Had to be nonchalant, right?”

He was coming to hate lying, after being so intimately around your candor.

The feeling of illness in his chest grew.

Sentiment was terrifying.

“... Right,” Akane ran a hand through her hair before taking back the tablet. “I won’t say anything, and I’ll tell your publicist to keep doing what she’s doing. Just try to be less obvious about all of this... ‘interpersonal work’.”

She wasn’t convinced.

Maybe Keigo had become a shittier actor, or maybe Akane had just come to know him too well.

Akane fished around in her bag, pulling forth a small piece of folded paper. She placed it on his desk, and slid it until it bumped his boot.

“Just in case you’re interested, these are the names of the photographers responsible. Do with that what you will.”

She gave him a darkened look as he sat up, unfolding the note and taking in the names.

They wouldn’t be hard to find, if needed.

“Thank you, Akane. I appreciate it.”

“Of course.”

She turned to leave, but paused, hand hovering over the door handle.

“Hawks?” Her voice went more gentle than he was used to. “I mean it, I won’t say anything. To anyone. Just... whoever they are to you, be careful, alright?”

Akane’s gaze drifted back to his, a sharpness there that she’d been hiding.

Knowingness.

Despite the smile he still managed to wear, his must’ve looked quite grim as Akane left his office, leaving him in the almost silence with plenty to stew over.

+++++

💕 tipjar 💕

+++++

taglist (send me an ask to be added!):

@thepandapopo @hawksexual @sinclairsamess @darcia22 @inhalingsoysauce @yee-fxcking-haw @call-me-rhee @peach-buns-unicorns @amethyst-rose-17 @mega-bastard @an-untamed-rose @ravioliplease @keigosangel @gobestupidsomewhereelse @themusingsofmany @mariiloei @hecatve @assassinslittlesister @thepuckishrogue @sleepylittlebarista @cathy8taffy @heydae20 @crapimahuman @indecisivehusky @levawks @hawkscumslutt

if your url is crossed out, i was unable to tag you due to your accounts settings. let me know if you’re able to adjust them!

#salem writes #hawks x reader #hawks #hawks imagines #takami keigo #hawks x you #hawks reader insert #hawks smut #i can finally tag that lol #lavender latte #kisses loves #hope u enjoy!!!

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curiouschild · 3 years

Text

Twin Butterflies

|| Jean Kirstein x fem! reader one shot ||

Summary: You’re taking a private moment on the morning of your wedding day with butterflies in your stomach when it’s interrupted.

Warnings: f l u f f <3

____________________________

No one else stirred in the cabin you were renting for yourself and your bridesmaids. It must have been a little after 6 in the morning as you could see the promise of dawn on the edge of the horizon. The wood was cold beneath your bare feet as you headed down the hall. In the haze of the morning fog that misted your brain, an invisible string seemed to be tugging you towards a large oak door. As you approached it, your nerves crackled beneath your skin as you gripped the metal handle, pushing the door open.

In the middle of the room with several large gaping windows was an elegant draping of white tulle and lace giving off a faint luminous glow in the early morning light. Wandering over to your wedding dress, your hand dips into the fabric of the skirt as if you could find the promises you would be making with Jean Kirstein could be found in its depths to calm you on one of the biggest days of your life.

Basking in the elegance of the most beautiful dress you will most likely ever own, you began to think of your soon to be husband who was sleeping in another cabin with his groomsmen. The two of you thought it would be lovely to get married in a wonderful little clearing in the woods that was owned by the family of your friend and bridesmaid, Sasha Braus. There were a few cabins as well that she offered to let you and your fiancee stay in before the big day. It was all so incredibly generous of her to accommodate yourself and your fiancee.

Your lips tug upwards as you thought about Jean. Was he peacefully sleeping? Was he about to get up for his usual morning jog? Or maybe he was starting a breakfast for his friends since he always loves to cook for people he cared about.

These thoughts made your heart flutter as you realized the mornings to come would be spent experiencing any of these scenarios with him. The serenity of those thoughts were clouded by the increasing amount of butterflies humming in your stomach. Even though you knew that no matter what, today was going to be special.

A quiet *tap tap tap* on glass had you reeling from your thoughts. Your eyes flicked towards one of the large windows where the noise came from. Your face pinked when you found warm hazel eyes watching you. Jean smiled softly, waving at you from outside. You returned his smile, loosening the fabric from your hands as you made your way to open the window.

“Good morning beautiful,” he greeted. Up close you saw that he was wearing a simple workout tank and loose sweatpants hung low at his hips.

With no screen in the way, he propped his long arms on the ledge and leaned his head through the window. His considerable height made his eyes remain almost at the same level as yours even as he slouched.

“Hi there. This is a surprise,” you said.

“A pleasant one I hope,” he chuckled. He opened his palm up to you and you slipped your hand into his, enjoying the warmth of his touch. “I woke up before any of the guys and felt like going for a walk. I couldn’t help passing by your cabin. What a lucky thing for me to see my beautiful bride before anyone else on our wedding day,” he murmured as his eyes studied your face in awe. He seemed to love drinking in the sight of you despite your clearly just-woke-up appearance.

“It’s certainly lovely to see you before everyone’s buzzing around getting ready,” you agree, your free hand reaching up to softly trace his jaw. The pads of your fingers grazed stubble. “I can’t even believe I was able to sleep. I’m so nervous about today- I think the worrying woke me up.”

His brow crinkled at your comment. “Why are you nervous, love?” He cupped his hands around yours and his fingers began to massage the back of your hand in soothing circles. You pause for a moment as he continued to knead into your skin carefully as you considered the question.

“There’s two things that come to mind,” you start. “Firstly, that I’m going to trip down the aisle. I wonder if that’s every bride’s fear, honestly. It seems like such a long walk and even if we laughed it off what if I ruined the dress? Or worse, stumble and trip into someone like your mom?”

You thought for a moment Jean would laugh at you for coming up with silly what-if’s, but he only continued to press his fingers into your palm. His hazel eyes were slightly amused, but he only said, “And what is the second thing my bride is worried about?”

You inhaled slowly before saying, “Well.. secondly, I’m nervous everything will pass by in such a blur that I won’t take in the moment.”

At this, you could see his handsome face become sympathetic. When he didn’t say anything you went on, “It feels like I haven’t seen you much this past month and all of the last minute planning has felt like such an onslaught of emotional and mental energy to the point where I don’t remember much of anything. We went sent out invitations and suddenly we’re here. I don’t want today to flash by like our engagement has.”

Jean brought your hand to his lips and softly pressed them across your knuckles before he asked quietly, “Come with me?”

You glanced down at your small silken robe that barely hit the edge of your short pajama shorts. “In this? I don’t even have shoes on.”

Jean smiled. “We won’t go far, I promise.” He tugged his hand and you laughed a little and muttered a small “oh fine.”

He stepped back, keeping your hand in his as you began to slide yourself through the window sill. The grass was still dewey as the two of you walked shoulder to shoulder and hands intertwined.

The jitteriness you had been experiencing on and off were left behind as you let Jean lead you towards a hidden path behind the cabin. There was a calming stillness, and neither of you felt the need to say anything. Your eyes glanced over every now and again to Jean’s face. He was keeping his eyes up, watching the tops of the trees. When you two were younger, he was often chatty and talked about himself until he was blue in the face. When he joined the regiment, he changed from being self centered, to a man who would do whatever it takes to protect those he loves. It made him more reflective. Humble. And one of the most passionate people you had ever known.

It wasn’t long before you two arrived at the clearing where your ceremony would be held. This was the first time you had a chance to see the seats set up along the trail of stepping stones that marked the path you would be taking to Jean later in the day.

You almost forgot to breathe as you took it all in. Jean squeezed your hand softly. “I can’t believe I get to marry you here,” he said softly before he moved into the last aisle to take a seat. You joined beside him in the innermost chair.

The blush returned to your face and you couldn’t help pressing your cheek against him. “It feels wrong to be here before the ceremony starts.”

You felt his laugh in his shoulder. “That’s what makes coming out here fun. Besides, if I can take your worries about our wedding away, then it can’t be that bad.” His eyes wandered up to the alter ahead and the two of you basked in the silence for a few moments.

“I sure do love you,” he finally said, tightening his hand around yours. “I loved you for the last several years. And I’ll love you if we’re saying our vows in front of everyone, or if we say them right here in our pajamas and skip the entire ceremony.”

Your eyes widened and your laughter rang in the clearing. “We aren’t skipping out on the wedding!”

The corner of his eyes crinkled at your laughter. “I know, I’m just being reassuring. You know what I mean though.”

“You’re so cheesy,” you teased him, lifting your head to press your lips against his cheek

“And yet, you’re still here with me,” he mused.

You bit your lip a little bit. His endearing charm always made you feel a bit like a school girl. “I couldn’t see myself here with anyone else.”

He rolled his eyes. “Now who’s the cheesy one?” He bumped his shoulder against your playfully. His hand left yours so he could wrap his arm around you.

“You told me earlier you’re nervous about walking up the aisle.”

You nodded shyly.

“Well, let me tell you that if you trip, I’ll just come to you.”

“No!” You quickly exclaimed. “That would emphasize the embarrassment.”

He smirked a little. “Then I’ll just have to trip on my way to helping my future wife. Then all of the attention will fall on me. And as far as you tripping into someone like my mom, it would be okay.”

You groaned at the thought. “If I trip into anyone I will die on the spot.”

His lips pressed into your temple affectionately. “I can’t let that happen. If you trip and fall into anyone, I’ll run to you in the aisle. I can just grab your hand and we’ll run away together. If your dress is ripped, I’ll carry you as we book it out of here.”

You shook your head, unable to stop grinning picturing him doing everything he can to help you in these imaginative situations.

“As for fearing about today going by in a blur,” he went on, his head turning to gaze into your eyes lovingly. “I think starting the day with just you is keeping me rooted in the moment. Wouldn’t you agree?”

He pressed his nose sweetly against yours and you felt any last of your butterflies quiet. It was quite something to remember the glow of your love for each other.

“I’m jealous that you haven’t had anxiety like I have. You’ve been so comforting.”

Pulling back, you were surprised to see a gentle flush in his face.

“Oh I’ve got my own butterflies, but for you I can ignore them.”

You tucked your head into the crook of his shoulder once more and you felt his head rest over yours.

“Well let me comfort you this time. What is my sweet Jean afraid will happen on our special day?”

“That our friendly neighborhood suicidal maniac is gonna do something stupid at our wedding,” he grumbled.

Through your giggling, you managed to say, “That’s what you get for making Eren a groomsmen.”

You heard Jean let out a scoff. “I knew you couldn’t sympathize,” he said in an exaggeratedly hurt voice.

The two of you talked and laughed together a little longer as sunlight danced over the tops of the trees. And in the moment, there was only the bond between you and Jean with the rest of your lives ahead of you.

#jean kirstein #jean kirschtien #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein x you #jean kirschstein x reader #jean kirschstein x you #jean kirstein one shot #jean kirstein fluff #aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #listen yall i was in my FEELS this week #and needed a pick me up #jean kirstein one shots have been my main comfort drug #also I didn’t know what I was gonna name it so there

182 notes · View notes

got-svt · 3 years

Text

for tonight

order up ! large caramel latte at 75 % sweetness, an oatmeal raisin cookie, and a slice of cheesecake with doyoung for anon <3 order notes : doyoung x reader, angst, but the end is kinda fluffy, exes to lovers, some mentions of other nct members look, something’s written on your cup… hi anon! for oatmeal raisin cookies the prompt is either enemies or exes so i hope you don’t mind that i chose exes haha. anyways, i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it! <3 - ren

summary: it’s taeyong’s wedding and you find yourself having no choice but to share a bed with your ex-boyfriend, doyoung. word count: 2.75k ( so sorry, i might have to change the word count on large orders asdfghkl literally all my oneshots are over 2k why did i think i could stick to under 2k for ca )

You stared ahead, eyes unblinking at the sight. Sure, the sight of a single bed wasn’t remotely daunting to most of the human population, but not to you. Not when you had to share it with your ex-boyfriend, Doyoung. He wore the same look of shock you did, mouth parted, eyebrows raised, and a cold drop of sweat dripping down his forehead. Beside you, you could see his fists clenching and unclenching — like he was trying to keep himself calm, but to very little success. Unfortunately for him, you were also feeling very on edge as you bit the inside of your cheek — waves of nervousness building up from the very pit of your stomach, soon enough they would eventually have to come crashing down.

You shouldn’t have come in the first place. If it weren’t for the incessant pestering of your friends, you wouldn’t have come at all. But it was Taeyong’s wedding, it was too big of a deal to ditch just because you didn’t feel like running into an ex.

“Seriously, Yn?” Taeyong pouted after hearing your initial hesitation on attending, “You’re skipping my wedding, the biggest day of my life, because you’re afraid you’ll see Doyoung? May I remind you that you were my friend before he became your boyfriend.”

You huffed, crossing your arms in front of your chest, “I know that, but what if things are awkward between us and we ruin your day because of it?”

“Hasn’t it been a couple of months already? I’m sure both of you moved on.” Taeyong rolled his eyes, “I’m not saying both of you have to spend the day together, I just want you to be there.”

You eventually agreed, though it took convincing from at least three other people besides Taeyong to get you to finally go. Johnny promised that he would sit beside you during the ceremony, you subtly asking to sit as far away from Doyoung as you possibly can — which meant tugging on his sleeve the second you caught sight of him. Taeyong was kind enough to move seating arrangements around, placing you in between Jaehyun and Mark and having you four tables away from Doyoung. You spent most of the reception dancing with Yuta and Haechan, laughing loudly whenever you stepped on their feet or when they spun you around a little too quickly. For most of the day, Doyoung had been in the back of your mind, enjoying the company you kept and catching up with your shared friends. But the day eventually had to end, nightfall slowly creeping up on you before shaking you back into the reality you had to force yourself to face.

“Okay, thank you.” Doyoung politely spoke before placing the telephone back on its receiver. His suit’s jacket was now off, neatly folded across the back of a wooden desk chair. The top two buttons of his crisp white button-down were undone.

You had to stop yourself from staring too long to be considered appropriate, shaking your head slightly. “Well, what did they say?”

Doyoung winced at the sharpness in your tone. You didn’t mean to sound so harsh, or cold for that matter, the effects of the long day had been wearing down on you and you wanted nothing more than to take a warm shower and fall into a dreamless sleep surrounded by the fluffiest pillows this luxurious hotel had to offer.

“Hotel’s all booked up because of the wedding. We can’t get another room.” He sighed, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, the soft mattress dipping ever so slightly.

You pinched the the bridge of your nose, shutting your eyes as tightly as you could — as if that would somehow help you will into reality that this was not happening. The two of you booked this hotel room weeks before you had broken up, the minute you had finally gotten wind of the where the wedding was going to be held. In the sudden whirlwind that was your breakup, neither of you had remembered to cancel and book another room. With the the nearest hotel somehow fifty miles away, you slowly braced yourself to deal with the unfortunate situation of having to share the room with your ex-boyfriend.

You opened your eyes to see Doyoung hunched over, eyes trained on his phone, very clearly frustrated. His fingers moved across his screen quickly, face slightly lit up from its harsh glare. You tilted your head to the side, watching as he eventually shut his phone off and ran a hand through his already messy hair. “I asked our friends if I could sleep in any of their rooms. All of them answered no. All full apparently, so no space for me.”

You scoffed, there was no way none of them couldn’t possibly spare a bit of space for Doyoung. He nodded in agreement at your annoyance. Both of you knew all of your friends rooted for the two of you, they were the reason you had even gotten together in the first place. You knew Taeyong ever since you learned how to walk, and you saw no harm in going on a blind date with a friend he had claimed would be absolutely perfect for you. Their denial only triggered memories of their exaggerated wails of heartbreak when they found out about your breakup.

“It’s fine, maybe I can sleep on the tub or something. You can take the bed.” Doyoung offered, motioning a hand towards the bed before heading to the bathroom. You rolled your eyes. Always the sweetheart, you thought. He was gone for all of five seconds when you heard his voice from the bathroom, soft yet clearly frustrated, “There’s no tub.”

Doyoung made his way over to you, his hands behind his back. There was a certain nervous energy that surrounded his figure, you wonder what was it about you that made him feel this way. Granted, this had been the first time you were going to be alone with him in months, you don’t even recall seeing him in person before the wedding. He refused to meet your eyes, gaze firmly on the carpeted floor beneath him, “I’ll take the floor instead.”

You knew there was no way you were letting him sleep on the floor, you were already about to protest his suggestion of sleeping on the tub until he made his way to the bathroom before he could even respond. Sure, you were broken up, but that didn’t mean you were that cold of a person to deny him access to a bed. “No.”

“What?” Doyoung looked up at you in surprise, eyes growing wide.

“Listen,” You sighed, not wanting to make this a bigger deal than it already was, “it’s been a long day, we’re both tired, both of us can take the bed. It’s just one night, what’s the worst that could happen? We can go back to pretending the other doesn’t exist in the morning.”

Doyoung blinked back at you, processing your words before nodding slowly. He didn’t feel like arguing with you anyways, not when the last time he saw you was in a screaming match that lasted hours and had you storming out of his apartment. “Fine, I assume you’ll take the right side of the bed? You can have the extra pillow too.”

You stepped back, trying your best to not seem too shocked that he still remembered your sleeping preferences. “Yeah, thanks.”

Doyoung nodded in acknowledgement, before both of you tried to get as much of your night routines done without bothering the other. The silence in the hotel room was palpable, breaking every now and then by the sounds of water running, doors opening and closing, bare feet prodding on carpeted floors, shuffling about as you narrowly avoided looking at or bumping into each other.

This is only for tonight, you and Doyoung thought to yourselves.

“Good night, I guess.” You mumbled, as both of you turned off the lamps on your respective sides of the bed.

“Night.”

The two of you were submerged in darkness, the only whisper of light coming from the moon that peeked through the curtains. You and Doyoung retreated to opposite edges of the bed, leaving an obnoxious amount of space between the two of you as you slept on your sides. You shut your eyes, hoping that sleep would come to you as soon as possible.

It didn’t, but only because your thought kept drifting back to the man that lied beside you. It was almost impossible to keep your mind at bay, not when he was right there, just at arm’s reach — so close yet so far. You couldn’t help but look for the sound of his breathing, remembering how it used to comfort you on nights you had trouble sleeping, patterning your own breaths after his. Something in you wanted to turn around and face him, to lay your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer in the way he did before.

The truth was, you didn’t know the exact reason for your breakup. All you remembered was crying, screaming, eventually storming out. It was all the little moments that both of you held in, eventually bursting out when it was all too much to hold. All those late nights he came home from work late, the small seconds of jealousy that welled up between the two of you, all the cancelled plans, missed dates, moments of misunderstandings that never got brought up or resolved.

You groaned as quietly as you could, not wanting to wake Doyoung up if he was already asleep. Maybe it was the effect of a long and tiring day, maybe it was because you had just been at a wedding and love was in the air, maybe avoiding him the entire day wasn’t the right move, not when it only made you miss him more. You couldn’t help but want to reach out for him and little did you know he felt the exact same way.

Doyoung felt cold, a chill creeping up his spine, goosebumps littering the little areas of skin he had exposed. He could hear your sighs, the groans that escaped your lips, and Doyoung knew you were having trouble sleeping. He wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms, the warmth of your body pressed against his. When he spent years falling asleep with you close to him most nights, it was hard to forget all of that in a matter of months.

He remembered how his heart ached when he saw you lead yourself and Johnny away from him, when he saw you seated tables away with him, talking it up with Mark and Jaehyun. But it shattered when he saw you dancing with Yuta and Haechan, smile wider than he had ever seen before, looking like you were having the time of your life without him.

Doyoung didn’t know how you were only keeping it all in, pretending like it didn’t bother you.

You turned to lay on your back, eyes wide and wake, looking up at the ceiling. There was nothing to look at, everything was painted in a pale shade of gray. There’s shuffling beside you as Doyoung turned to lay on his back as well, hands neatly folded on his stomach.

“Can’t sleep, Yn?” He asked, eyes also fixated on the ceiling.

You shook your head but quickly realized he probably couldn’t see you, “No. I suppose you can’t either.”

“Any reason why?”

“Thinking…” You trailed off, afraid of what you’d say if he dared to ask more.

“About?”

You sighed, unsure if you should actually answer. There was never really any closure to your breakup, you could only remember leaving. “Us, like what exactly happened?”

There was a certain amount of vulnerability in your voice, it was quiet and soft, yet it still pierced through the air and rang in his ears. He couldn’t believe you, how could you ask him that?

“Yn, you left me.” Doyoung answered back, he tried to sound nonchalant, but his voice cracked at the final word, giving his true emotions away.

You deserved that, the little clench in your chest at the sadness in his voice. “But you didn’t go after me. You just let me leave. You let me go so easily.”

“Did you want me to go after you? Would you have taken me back if I did?” Doyoung turned on his side once again, now facing you, “I thought you were done with me.”

You kept your eyes on the ceiling, trying your best to ignore Doyoung’s piercing gaze. You couldn’t look at him, not when the guilt of your actions finally caught up with you. It was a selfish decision really, to leave so suddenly, not giving each other a chance to possibly work it out. You still don’t know why you had done it, or at least made no effort to contact him after, leaving both of you to just assume that things were over.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that up.” You bring your hands up to your temple, trying to rub away the headache that was beginning to form. Should you say anything else? Did you even want to? Your chest tightened, feeling tears form in the corners of your eyes. You had spent the entire day keeping it in, spent the months after your breakup pretending that this was for the best, that this was what you wanted. The walls you built around yourself finally came crumbling down, “I just…I missed you. I can’t even remember why we broke up in the first place, why I left…”

You expected him to turn away, to tell you it was too little and far too late. Instead he reached out to you, the suddenness of his action had you yelping in surprise. He pulled you to his chest, closing the distance you had put between yourselves. Doyoung whispered, his breath ever so slightly tickling your ear, “I’m sorry for letting you leave.”

“No,” You shook your head against his chest, tears staining the white cotton shirt he chose to wear to bed, “I’m sorry for leaving in the first place.”

Doyoung didn’t say anything else, letting you cry into his chest as he rubbed comforting circles on your back. You calmed down after a few minutes, but you still gripped his shirt tightly, like you were afraid that you were going to lose him again if you didn’t.

It was quiet, but it wasn’t the same kind of silence that descended between the two of you earlier in the night. This silence was more peaceful, content. You could hear the sound of his heart beating, relaxing and consistent — lulling you to sleep. Doyoung felt your breath against his neck, warm and inviting, reminding him that you were once again in his arms. The heaviness in his chest that plagued him the past few weeks was suddenly gone, replaced with a sense of peacefulness.

“You know, something in me says that you didn’t cancel this hotel room on purpose.” Doyoung teased, knowing it would get some sort of reaction from you.

And it did. You groaned as you hit his chest, in the way you always did whenever he teased you when you were still together, your hand still lingering on his chest even after you hit him. Unfortunately, you exerted a little more force than you originally intended.

“Ouch!” He exclaimed, but you could tell he wasn’t actually hurt when you saw the ghost of a smile making its way to his lips, “Are you trying to flirt with me or start a fight?”

“Which would you prefer?”

“Definitely flirting.” Doyoung grinned, wrapping his arms tighter around you.

You hummed, content as sleep finally began to take its hold on you, “What happens now?”

“We can talk about it in the morning.” Doyoung kissed your temple, one hand running through your hair, “We should go to sleep.”

You snuggled further into his embrace, a content sigh escapes Doyoung’s lips. There was still so much left for the two of you to talk about, to actually work on if you wanted your relationship to last. But that was all to be discussed in the morning. Right now, for tonight and this very moment, Doyoung only decided on one thing: there was no way he was letting you leave again.

— thank you for visiting cafe amore ! feel like ordering something else? check the menu here.

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moonofiron · 3 years

Text

Ok I just wanted to write a really short and sweet smutty piece for ShikaTema. But I have failed miserably. I am too attached to Naruto-verse and all the characters in general. (Like, I'm so attached that I can't even read or watch most of NaruHina/SasuSaku smut - it feels WRONG).

There are a few after thoughts regarding this piece, too. I really enjoyed writing this. I really love ShikaTema and they were my first OTP. Hell, I didn't even know that the terms OTP or shipping existed when I started rooting for them. So, this is super close to my heart ❤️ and ✨unedited✨. I legit wrote 8.4k words on my phone and my eyes are rolling on the ground right now.

Anime: Naruto Shippuden (Set in post-Shippuden and pre-Boruto-verse.)

Characters: Shikamaru Nara x Temari Scenes with Ino, Sasuke, Naruto, Hinata, Sakura, Sai. Passing mention of Choji.

Genre: Fluff, angst, flirting, explicit sexual content 🥵, slight voyeurism, oral, raw sex

Word Count: 8.4k (yikes!)

Synopsis: Shikamaru has finally had enough of Temari’s incessant flirting

Rating: M

Minors, dni

Friends and family from all five villages had been invited to the annual Hanami Matsuri in Konoha. Hinata had invited some of Naruto's closest to their house for a brunch party before the matsuri started full swing. Hinata had cooked everything from scratch and Sakura and Ino had helped decorate her backyard with streamers and flowers. Everything looked immaculate and lovely. The boys were all specially thrilled to be getting together after such a long time.

"What a rowdy bunch," said Ino with a wide grin, a look of pride plastered on her face. Sakura grinned, too.

"Judgemental as always, Ino, I'll be joining em soon, ya know? Do you think I'm rowdy too, love? You're breaking my heart here." Shikamaru moved uncomfortably close to Ino's ear, making her squirm under his presence. He loved to lightly flirt with Ino and see her all flustered.

"Baaka janaai no? Take your charm elsewhere. Or I'm going to get Sai to beat you up one day."

"Hai hai, Ino Sensei," he winked at her and made his way to the bar to grab a beer and light a cigarette.

Sakura, visibly shaken by Shikamaru’s loose and flirtatious behaviour, grabbed Ino’s arm.

"What the hell was that, Ino?! Do...do you think he likes you?"

"What? No way. It's just an inside joke. He was the one who helped me get together with Sai, you know?"

After a long moment of admirinng the friendship she shared with Shikamaru, Ino spoke up.

"I just wish that someday he'll do something in his own i nterests, too."

"What do you mean?"

“There's someone. Loves her like a fucking dog. Like weak-in-the-knees-slash-worship-her kinda love, you know?"

"I just can’t imagine Shikamaru in the way you're describing him."

"Yeah, I get that. He really is tough to break into. Anyway, this isn't for me to share, Sakura. Let's have some of those karaage Hinata has prepared. I can't get enough of them."

Shikamaru leaned against the bar, craving a minute to himself. He wished Choji could have been there but he was away on a mission. Everyone was at the other end of the backyard or inside the house. He looked up at the sky, admiring the clouds slowly moving towards nowhere in particular. Before he could pop open the beer bottle, he noticed Temari entering with Kankuro and Gaara.

"Tsk, mendukse," he muttered under his breath.

He wasn't expecting to see Temari today. He really wasn't in the mood to be on his best behavior. The last mission had taken away a lot from him. He hadn't slept properly and he was tired. He wanted to just have a good time with the gang, maybe play some cards and get drunk out of his mind. But there she was, bright and beautiful in her stubbornness as always, making Shikamaru's heart sink and flutter all at the same time. He felt himself tighten up when she caught him looking at her.

"Hey! Shikamaru! How've you been?" she waved and shouted from across Naruto's backyard.

He waved back and put on an awkward smile.

She was walking towards him slowly. He noticed the slightly exaggerated sway in her hips and felt himself steadily losing breath. He kept his beer bottle on the table beside him and put his hands in his pockets as he waited for her to reach him.

”Hello, Temari. Wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Oh..? Why not?"

"I don't know. I thought only Kankuro would be here for the Matsuri," he inhaled the smoke from his cigarette deeply before tapping it.

"Well, I am here. And you'll show me around, yes?"

He stayed silent for a moment too long and his eyes pierced into hers. He finally broke her gaze and moved his head to the side to blow out the smoke.

"If I'm free, I'll grab ya."

"What do you mean if you're free? Is that how you treat your guests, Shikamaru-kun?" Temari tugged at his t-shirt and teased slightly, pouting at him, never leaving his gaze. She loved to see Shikamaru get awkward around her. The green of her eyes had him weak in his knees again.

Shikamaru looked down at his t-shirt bunched up in her delicate hands. She was mindlessly moving her thumb in circles against his chest. He felt a flash of an indescribable feeling and something inside him broke loose.

He held her arm and pulled her dangerously close. Temari's eyes widened and she let out an audible gasp.

"I know how to treat a guest like you very well, Temari," he spoke in a low, hoarse voice, his lips barely inches away from hers.

"I... I ...Shikamaru... What..what are you doing Everyone... someone could be watching. What would they think?"

"Hmm ..what would they think, Temari?" Shikamaru spoke in a tone so cold that Temari felt a shiver go down her spine.

"Let me go, you idiot."

He gripped her arm harder, grit his teeth, and shoved his thigh between her legs. She let out a soft moan and he felt her back arch ever so slightly.

"Shik.." He suddenly let her go, leaving her too flustered to collect herself. He picked up his beer and grabbed another another one before walking towards everyone else.

"What's up, Kankuro?" he said loudly.

"Same old, genius," Kankuro patted him on the back as he took the beer bottle from him.

When Shikamaru reached the others gathered around the table, he noticed that Temari was still standing at the bar. Her hands were balled into tight fists, and from the rise and dip of her shoulders he could tell she was breathing deeply. He looked away and stopped paying attention to her for fear that he'll start coming to terms with what he had just done. And, he wasn't looking forward to that.

Shikamaru avoided Temari throughout the brunch but always caught her stealing glances at him. He could see the smirk on her face everytime she got a chance to be near him. He was losing his patience with the woman. She was deliberately brushing her hands against his. She was finding ways of leaning over him to grab food or drinks, brushing her hair against his face. Everytime she got up from the table they were all huddled around, playing poker, she made sure she lightly brushed his groin with her ass. Getting through the brunch proved to be frustrating at worst and left him breathless at best.

Everyone started leaving slowly, like people often do. They said their goodbyes and hugged and promised to do this again sometime soon. When Temari and her brothers left, Shikamaru let out a sigh of relief. Everyone had left except him and Sasuke.

"I see something's brewing in your pants, ahem, I mean your brain, you bastard," Naruto joked out loud.

"Hai hai, she's going to be the death of me." Shikamaru leaned his head back on the chair. His eyes followed a lone cloud.

"Well, then, you shouldn't have given her a taste of you like that at the bar, ya know?" Sasuke smirked.

"I'm sick of your eyes seeing everything everywhere. Mendukse ne. Tsk." Shikamaru let out a puff of smoke.

"Don't worry, no one noticed you both doing whatever the fuck you were doing throughout. They were all drunk, anyway."

"Yeah, not worried. Alright, gotta do some stuff before the matsuri starts, boys. Jaana!"

Shikamaru walked out of Naruto’s and clutched the green clip he'd bought for Temari long back. He carried it everywhere in order to be prepared to give it to her should the occasion arise. Perhaps it was his way of having a little control over this situation. He started to make his way to his home but thought better of it and walked towards the inn he knew Temari was staying at. She always stayed there because of how pretty and secluded it was. It gave her a chance to be away from her two brothers.

When he reached, he paced back and forth. His nerves were catching up to him.

"What if she gets angry? What if she never talks to me again?" His mind was over-flowing with questions he had no answers to. Questions he didn’t want answers to.

He got tired of thinking through the details and just went ahead, fully aware that his actions didn't align with the kind of man he was. But, over the years he'd realised that this was one matter he couldn't rationalise. He couldn't plan or predict this. He couldn't fit it into a strategy or logic. All he knew for certain was that he came undone everytime Temari so much as looked at him. He found himself perched on the balcony of her room.

She was going for a bath. Once she entered the bath, Shikamaru jumped inside the room and made himself comfortable as he leaned against the shelf on the wall infront of the washroom. He blended in with the room, completely still and quiet, as he waited for Temari to come out. He just wanted to talk. Just wanted to see her again. Be near her, again.

He waited for about 20 minutes, his mind a wilderness amd tangle of multiple ways he would explain what he was doing in her room, before she stepped out. When she did, she was naked and drenched in water, a scenario he hadn’t thought through. The water droplets made her body glitter in the soft early-evening sunlight. Shikamaru involuntarily gasped and bit his lip. Despite himself, he scanned her top to bottom as she mumbled something to herself. She looked absolutely stunning. He wanted nothing more than to love her with his entire being. Something tugged hard at his insides, he felt a drunkenness swallow him whole.

"Ugh, I don't know why I always forget to take my towel in the bath, it's so cold, fuck" mumbled Temari to herself as she looked around for the towel. She had goosebumps all over her body from the cool air. She was running late for the Matsuri, too. Her yukata was not ironed yet. Her phone kept buzzing and all of it was driving her up the wall. To top it all, she couldn't stop thinking about how Shikamaru had shoved his thigh between her legs earlier. How less it had taken for her to just yield. In the chaos, she completely missed Shikamaru, comfortable beside the shelf, quietly admiring her.

She bent down to pick up the towel on wooden stool right next to the washroom door. "I can't believe the towel was here all along, tsk. Where is my mind today?"

As she started getting up, she found herself unable to move. Terror painted her face. Back muscle? Slipped disc? A hundred explanations ran through her head before something made her unclench her hand around the towel, making it fall on the floor. A force made her sit still on the stool. It made her spread her legs and move her hands to her nipples, pulling them, all against her will. She gasped at her own touch, bewildered. She struggled to break out of whatever the fuck was happening but her limbs wouldn't listen to her.

Shikamaru quitely walked towards her and stroked her face gently. He bent down, his lips just a hair's length from Temari's ears.

"Kaagemane no jutsu, sekko," whispered Shikamaru hoarsely.

"Sh..shikamaru..wha...what's the meaning of..." she felt a darkness shove itself down her throat. Shikamaru had used his shadows to bind her throat as well as stop her from speaking.

"You're going to sit tight and do exactly what I want you to." He knew Temari was utterly baffled and terrified. Her face made it very clear.

"I won't take you to the matsuri otherwise, Temari," smirked Shikamaru.

He could feel the heat from her body. He moved back, his eyes tracing each and every part of it.

"You're gorgeous, you know?" he said as he settled in a chair in front of her. Shikamaru noticed that Temari's soft breasts perked up involuntarily at his words. He spread his legs to mirror her. He wanted to appear collected and he lit a cigarette to calm himself down. His insides felt gooey. He slowly pulled out the shadow from her mouth so she could breathe.

"Feel better?"

Temari gagged and panted and slowly nodded, her chin was covered with her own drool. She looked like a dream, she looked absolutely unreal to Shikamaru. His hands itched, his breath faltered, and he could feel the hair on his neck stand up.

Too embarrassed and shocked and scared and aroused all at once, Temari looked away from Shikamaru's piercing eyes.

"Shi...Shikamaru..ple..please. What do you think you're doing? This is..." she spoke in a strong voice but Shikamaru could hear the slight tremble.

He lost his patience and cut her off meanly.

"What do you think you were doing at the brunch? Strutting around all pretty for me like that. Hmm?"

"For you?" Temari mustered the courage to bite back, her eyebrows rose.

Temari felt a deep blush rising in her cheeks when Shikamaru didn't move or say anything. He usually couldn't bear to look at her in the eyes for more than half a minute. But today, his gaze was unwavering.

After a momemt, Shikamaru took a deep breath and spoke in a low voice, a baritone she'd never heard escape his soft lips.

"You think I'm blind? You think I wouldn't notice, hmm? All that unintentional brushing against me? All that pouting and tugging at my t-shirt? Your ass grinding my cock everytime we squeezed through that corridoor? Your tits in my fucking face infront of everyone?"

He tried to calm himself down. He was aware he was going a bit too far.

"The way you leaned into me when I grabbed your arm? The way your nipples hardened underneath your thin dress? Your little moan, the subtle arch in your back when I shoved my thigh between your legs? The way your lips parted? The way your wet tongue almost darted out?"

Temari's cheeks were a burning red now. So, clearly, he had noticed. She was never sure with him. She knew he was perceptive but she'd been hinting since years now, and he had never ever made a move. Even though she'd caught a kind of hunger in his face a million times, she always thought she was making it up in her own head. Of course, she'd never been this explicit with her hints, but she only got the courage because of the way Shikamaru had handled her at the bar. A little teasing as revenge for getting a woman like her so flustered wouldn't hurt, she'd thought.

But, she also hadn't expected this kind of a reaction from Shikamaru. She really thought he would just be his usual awkward self. Shikamaru taking charge of the situation woke in her something that she didn’t understand . She was steadily growing moist under his watch, her thighs were slippery, and she was throbbing for his touch.

Was he doing this just to get back at her for all of her friendly flirting? Or was there something else she was missing? Had she really fallen for someone she didn't know at all?

She felt her head snap in Shikamaru's direction.

"Look at me," he grit his teeth.

She felt her left hand moving to her growing wetness and her right tugging at her own nipple. Shikamaru's small smile told her he was helplessly enjoying himself. She gasped and moaned uncontrollably as he made her rub her clit against her will.

"That's it, love, let me watch you rub yourself," he bit his lip. His eyes were filled with the same hunger she'd witnessed so many times before. So it was real. It had always been real. He sucked in a breath through his teeth.

It took Shikamaru every ounce of strength and control to keep himself from just taking her right there and then. He was suppressing years of pent up frustration and desire. He was very hot and very bothered and his joggers were getting way too tight for him.

His jutsu made Temari touch herself exactly like how he'd imagined so many times before. He made her rub herself agonizingly slow, pinch her nipples hard, and then suddenly made her right hand drop to her throbbing cunt, too. He made her decrease the pressure on her clit and shove two fingers inside of herself.

Her moans filled the room and Shikamaru felt his face burn. She looked like a goddess. He wanted, so badly, to get on his knees and just lick her, feel the warmth of her thighs around his face, feel her gushing in his mouth. He wanted nothing but to love this woman with the entirety of his being. He ran his hands through his hair to focus himself and catch his breath.

Her eyes, a mixture of anger and love and arousal, hadn’t left his since he’d made her snap her head in his direction. He loved that she was standing up to him in her own way. His eyes hadn't left her body, her face, her fingers working in and around her cunt. His mouth watered and cock twitched at the sloppy noises her fingers and wetness made.

She begged for release. It took her a while but her arousal made her shed all fear or embarrassment. She'd found the comfort his presence always gave her, the usual sense of security she felt around him was back. His greed and hunger for her was painted on his face, clear as day.

"Fas...faster, ple...please Shika..I can't.." she breathed helplessly, her sentence punctuated by moans.

"Time for another finger, love," Shikamaru sucked in his lower lip as her finger moved at his will.

Temari felt a heat bloom in her core and her legs shivered from the intensity of it all.

As he made her fuck herself with three fingers, she suddenly felt her left hand move away from her clit and then come down crashing. She realised Shikamaru was making her slap her clit, not once, not twice, but repeatedly and in quick successions. She moaned out his name out of habit.

"Fuck, look at you moaning my name, you look so beautiful, Temari. My name on your lips like that, it's making me harder." He teased her in a silky voice.

Temari had lost all control by now. She was writhing as much as Shikamaru allowed her to, the stool under her was about give away, and her wrists ached from all the work Shikamaru was making her do.

"Shika...Shikamaru, I'm gonna.. I'm gonna..."

She suddenly felt her hands move away from her swollen cunt. She clenched around emptiness and throbbed for him, realising that he'd denied her any kind of release.

"Shikamaru, please, please... please..." she panted, sweaty and messy.

"Please what?"

"Pl...please let me..," she gulped. She was so embarrassed she was saying this out loud. Infront of him.

"Let you what?"

"Please, let me cum," she mumbled.

"Yeah? Look at the mess you've made, love. Do you want me to help you clean up?" His shadow made her head bend down to look at the pool she'd given birth to. Temari nodded lightly and that's all it took for Shikamaru to get on his knees and bring his mouth to her soft cunt. He kept her bound by his shadows so she couldn't move. He rested his calloused hands on her inner thighs and gave her a long lick all the way from her moist and throbbing opening to her cute little button of a clit. The voice that escaped her throat gave Shikamaru goosebumps.

"I love you," moaned Temari in a whisper.

Shikamaru's ears were now warm and beet red, his face buried harder between her thighs and his fingers dug into her skin. He loved her. God, he loved her so much. He loved every little thing she did, every noise that escaped her lips. Every time her body jerked from his touch, it sent his mind in a frenzy.

The cold metal of his earrings against her inner thighs made her shiver. His sharp hair tickled her. She moaned out his name again as he moved his tongue in and out of her quickly. He felt her clench around his tongue. He brought his thumb to her clit and rubbed it in quick and dirty circles, the metal of his rings cool and electrifying. He looked up at her face with the same hunger in his eyes that always made Temari skip a beat.

"Say, how many times have you moaned out my name like this, Temari?" he whispered and went back to giving her soft, gentle licks.

Temari blushed a beautiful pink again and bit her lip. She found it extremely hard to form a coherent sentence, the way his mouth and hands were handling her was perfect.

"I..I've ...I've lost...co..unfff..count."

He smiled against her skin and showered her wetness with kisses and nibbles. He inserted a finger as he lapped up her clit and felt her clench again, this time around his finger. He curled his finger and Temari let out a small whimper. He moved his finger in and out and slowly inserted a second and third one till she was panting, his thin and long tongue never ceasing to flutter around her clit.

"Shika...Shika I'm gonna..I'm gonna cum. Do...don't stop"

At this, Shikamaru ceased all movement. It took him immense control to leave her wanting like that, again. But, it had to be done. He didn’t understand why but he wanted her to beg, not hint anymore. He'd had enough of her innocent flirting and teasing and it was his turn to have her writhing before him.

"Are...are you serious!?" shouted Temari.

A loud gutteral sound escaped Temari's lips. She'd been edged twice in the last half an hour and she hated it. She hated that Shikamaru won't let her cum. But it felt so good. The way he looked at her, talked to her, touched her, it was all unbearable.

Shikamaru lightly traced her lips with his fingers and then shoved them in her mouth. She licked herself off his fingers hungrily and Shikamaru's cock rose, eliciting a small playful chuckle from Temari. He smiled back at her. His lips and chin glistened with Temari's slick. He licked it clean and then walked back to the chair. She throbbed for release but she could see Shikamaru had other plans.

Without further delay, Shikamaru picked up her towel and dried her hair as she sat still, bound by his jutsu. He dressed her up in her dark blue Yukata.

"Shikmaru, please, I won't be able to bear it," Temari said as Shikamaru tied her obi.

"Bear what?" he cooed in her ear and cocked his head innocently.

"You're a fucking bastard. How are you planning to do my hair? Obviously I can't step out like this." Temari fumed.

Shikamaru moved behind her as his shadows made her sit in front of the mirror. Her entire body ached from being controlled like a puppet for so long. She felt Shikamaru's fingers comb through her hair and her eyes closed.

When she opened her eyes finally, she gasped in surprise at how beautiful she looked. Shikamaru had perfectly done up her hair.

She also noticed a green clip he'd slid in one of her pony tails. It was a delicate branch of leaves, studded with small embralds. She was standing in front of him now, her body pressed against his.

"Where and when did you learn to do a girl's hair?"

"Oh, I have a few daughters spread around town. Why? Jealous?" mocked Shikamaru.

Temari glared at him.

"The clip is beautiful. Thank you."

"It suits you. Brings out your eyes." He murmured, unable to stop himself from kissing her jaw. He mentally kicked himself for saying something so cheesy instead of a simple welcome.

"Let's go, I've to show you around the Hanabi Matsuri, no?"

"B..but, Shikamaru?"

"Hmm?" he asked as he trailed his fingers along her long neck.

"My..my panties...?" Temari was blushing so hard that Shikamaru couldn't help but raise his eyebrows. He loved being cocky with her.

"No panties today," he whispered and spanked her ass loudly, making her jump as much as she could while being bound with his jutsu.

Only when they reached the Matsuri did Shikamaru free her of his jutsu. Finally free of him, she could do whatever she wanted to. She wanted him right then and there. But, there were so many people around, it was as good as being tied up.

"I'll be right behind you, Temari," whispered Shikamaru as he lightly squeezed her ass in the crowd. She could feel her thighs slipping against each other as she walked uncomfortably. She was still a slobbering mess and all of this teasing wasn't helping. Shikamaru was his usual self, not a hint of discomfort in his voice.

They went from stall to stall, eating and chatting, meeting up with everyone when Shikamaru caught her looking intently at a pair of kunai. She was caressing the blades and the handle, appreciating the craft.

"I can carve your name on it, too!" said the seller.

"Oh really? That's amazing!"

"What are you looking at?" Shikamaru leaned on the table full of decorative kunai as he popped a handful of peanuts in his mouth.

"Nothing, I really love this pair. It would look spectacular in my collection. I have a decorative pair from wherever I've been. Don't have one from Konoha for some reason."

"Hmm." He frowned. After a pause he said, a bit unsure, "Will you let me get these for you?"

"What? Why? No! I can get them. It's cool."

He took her hands in his and kissed her fingers.

"Yeah, I know. But I want to get these for you."

"I really couldn't. You got me the clip, too!"

"Who said the clip is yours?"

"Uhh... why'd you put it in my hair then?" embarrassed at the assumptions she'd made.

Shikamaru burst out laughing.

"I'm messing with you. I got the clip for you long back. Just...never got a chance to give it to you." A sad smile lingered on his face for a fraction of a seocnd. Temari blushed and looked away from his piercing gaze. What the hell was it with his eyes today. They just wouldn’t let her go.

"Please, let me get the kunai for you. It would mean so much to me." Shikamaru murmured softly against her hands.

"Hmm. Alright, I guess you owe me that much," she winked and gave him a shy smile.

Shikamaru's face lit up and he smiled so brightly that Temari wanted nothing more than to smother him with kissEd. He looked like a child who had just been given a box full of candies.

"I ..want to get today's date carved on it too."

"Yeah? Why?"

"I'd like to remember today."

"Why?" a shy smile spread across Shikamaru's face.

"Stop it."

"Here you go, love." He handed her the bag.

As Temari peeked into the packet, she heard Ino, Sakura, and Hinata coming over to them. When Naruto pulled Shikamaru aside to check out another stall, Ino pounced on the chance.

"How's it going, Temari?" asked Ino.

"Great! I'm just exploring. A little tired, really."

"Hmmmmm. Tired from the journey or....?" Ino teased knowingly and Sakura and Hinata laughed.

"What..what do you mean?" Temari asked, wide-eyed.

"Oh come on! We all know what you've been up to," said Sakura and winked at her.

"I have no idea what you girls are talking about."

"Temari, the three of us had come to pick you up at the inn because you weren't picking up your phone," Hinata jumped in, failing to keep a straight face. Temari's face went pale and she looked the other way.

"We could hear some very interesting noises so we thought we'll leave you be," Sakura giggled.

"Hey, it's alright. This'll stay between us. We're just messing with you." reassured Ino.

"We're happy for you Temari. This was long due. We've been rooting for you both." chimed in Hinata.

"Girls, he's killing me," Temari finally broke down.

"Well, you've been toying with him since years. Let him have some fun."

"I haven't been toying with him. I love him. He's just dense."

"He's anything but dense," Hinata cut Temari off and all three girls looked at her, surprised. "He's..he's not dense. Just really considerate."

"Sooooo, Te-ma-ri chan, is he any good in bed?" snickered Sakura to break the awkward silence.

"We...we haven't...we haven't really done anything yet," stuttered Temari.

"What? What was all that screaming and moaning out his name for?" probed Sakura. The girls couldn't stop giggling.

"Well...we..uh...he just..."

"What are you all gossiping about? Ino, 20 bucks if I win the shooting game." challenged Sai. He was walking over to the girls with Shikamaru, Sasuke, and Naruto.

"Ohhh? Let's see who wins then." Both of them walked to the shooting stall hand in hand. Sasuke noticed Temari blushing and he glanced at Shikamaru, amused.

"Do y'all wanna have Ramen?" asked Naruto. "Sure, let's go!" "Let's wait for Ino and Sai."

Ino returned victorious, mocking Sai. The 4 couples walked towards the ramen stall, bantering and mocking each other about something or the other. The crowd was thinning steadily, the after-hours of the festival full of laughter and chatter. Temari felt Shikamaru's hand snake around her waist.

"I can't wait to take this Yukata off off you, Temari," Shikamaru whispered. They'd fallen a few steps behind.

"You look so beautiful. I bet you're still wet from earlier." He spoke in a silky voice against the sweaty skin of her neck and softly bit her ear. His hand cupped her heat and Temari slapped his hand away, making him chuckle.

Temari stayed absolutely still. When she didn't say anything, Shikamaru frowned.

"What's... what's wrong?" Shikamaru asked, concerned. Back in his senses now, he faltered and blushed at what he'd just said and done.

Temari spoke hurriedly like a quick rainstorm, "Please, can we go back to the inn? Make me yours already. I've been yearning for you since so long. And now I know you have been, too. It's plain as day that we both want eachother, why won't you just take me back? Why subject me to all this waiting? Haven't we waited for so long already? It doesn't make any sense."

Shikamaru felt his knees giving away but he steadied himself and softened his tone. He turned her around and pecked her jaw and the insides of her wrists. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, he said, "Just a little bit longer, love. Let's eat with the gang first. I promise I'll make you feel so good once we get home, princess." "Shikamaru, everyone...everyone knows about us..." "So?" "So? You're okay with that?" "Why wouldn't I be? I would like to make it very clear that you're mine." "Oh..."

"Oi, you two lovebirds. Get here quick. We'll lose our spot otherwise," shouted Naruto.

Shikamru grabbed her hand and walked towards the restaurant. They all settled in on the low outdoor benches and Shikamaru made Temari sit on his thigh, his left hand wrapped around her waist. Temari felt awkward at first but she leaned into him when she saw so many couples around her.

Even Hinata, the shyest of them all, was sitting in Naruto's lap, wrapped around him like a child. She blushed when she noticed Naruto's hand stroking Hinata's waist softly. She caught him whispering sweet nothings in Hinata's ears as Hinata smiled shyly. Sakura, too, was sitting between Sasuke's legs. Sasuke was putting a flower in her hair as he spoke about some mission with all of them. Ino's legs were in Sai's lap as he drew mindless circles on her thighs with his fingers.

The atmosphere was so drunken and happy and full of love that she couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. There were fairy-lights everywhere and red lanterns swayed back and forth in the gentle wind. Flower petals and leaves blew around them. The laughter and cling and clatter of the utensils made her feel alive.

When they had ordered and were mid-conversation, Temari suddenly pecked Shikamaru on his cheek, stopping him mid-sentence. He raised his eyebrows and pecked her nose and continued talking about how he beat Asuma in a training session and everyone listened to him intently. She noticed that his hands never left her. She eased in completely, never having known such familiarity in an unfamiliar place. The sake was rich, the ramen was perfect, and the company was warm.

Late at night when all of them were buzzed and tired, they said their goodbyes. The three girls winked at Temari as she felt Shikamaru squeeze her ass for the tenth time that night. //

"I can't wait for the saucy details. I'm not letting Temari go without telling us everything." Sakura spoke hurriedly to Ino and Hinata.

"Temari is the one I was talking about earlier today, Sakura! I didn't think things would happen so fast! Did you see him, he didn't let her out of his sight or hands for a single second," Ino giggled.

"He's addicted! But, you both should just leave them be now. Don't go around spying on them!" Hinata laughed and blushed at the same time.

"Oh, he's more than addicted, I'm sure of it," said Ino.

"Hina, let's go babygirl," Naruto called out in a hoarse voice. Hinata blushed a deep red, knowing the girls will tease her about her nick-name forever now.

"Haha! Go on babygirl! See you tomorrow!" Ino and Sakura teased her. The girls giggled and hugged before leaving.

Temari and Shikamaru walked towards nowhere in particular.

"So, your place or mine?" asked Shikamaru. He chuckled as he stroked her face. He wanted to kiss her lips so much.

"How about yours?" Temari was finally in her element and she fingered is t-shirt like she had at the brunch. She looked at him with her deep green eyes and Shikamaru felt himself losing control.

"God, I want you so bad, Temari. Tsk. You've no idea." He held her hands and kissed her fingers.

They walked quietly, enjoying the cool breeze.

"Shikamaru, why haven't you ever made a move? I don't think that you've only just realised how I feel about you."

Shikamaru took a deep breath but stayed quiet.

"Well?"

He stopped and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Temari, I am only going to say this once... All these years, I was scared that you were just playing with me. You've had several boyfriends, too. I've literally given you advice on how to make up with them. And so I never knew what to make of all your teasing and flirting. I didn't think you felt for me the way I do for you... In fact, I don't think you can ever feel for me the way I feel for you."

He paused.

"The last mission took a lot away from me, Temari. When I saw you today, toying with me again like that, something snapped in me. I acted on an impulse that I usually keep under control. But, seeing you react the way you did to me today told me more than enough." He gave her a small smile. Temari stood still, her face betrayed nothing.

"Let's go," whispered Shikamaru. "Hmm."

When they reached Shikamaru's flat, Temari spent a minute looking around. Everything was immaculate and in place. She was admiring all the photos on the wall when she felt Shikamaru quickly untie her obi. Her breath hitched in her throat and she softly moaned out his name.

"Hmm?"

"I wasn't toying with you. I never have."

"Yeah?"

"Hmm."

He had her naked and pressed against his body in a matter of seconds. He began to untie her hair but Temari stopped him. "Leave the clip be."

He bit the insides of his cheek to keep himself from smiling like an idiot. His hands roamed around her body hungrily. He kissed and nibbled at her neck and shoulders and she kept her hands on his as he trailed them all over her breasts and stomach, halting at her inner thighs. She moved her hips slowly against him.

He drew light circles around her left nipple and greedily squeezed her right thigh. Temari gasped at the pressure and Shikamaru turned her around. He held her face tenderly, pulled her close, and finally kissed her lips. He came alive under her touch. The greed with which Temari sucked on his lips made him shiver and lose breath. He smiled against her flesh and walked her towards the sofa in his living room, kissing her all the while. He made her sit down, lightly held her chin, and made her look up at him.

"Spread your legs, Temari," his voice hoarse from desire.

He held the backrest of the sofa with his left hand, dug his right knee on the sofa, and bent over her. Temari wrapped her hand around his left hand, and her other stroked his hair. He lightly touched her moist folds with two fingers and let out a small grunt at how wet she was. He lazily rubbed her clit, his eyes never leaving hers. He took in her supple body full of scars from missions. The way she, finally, fully arched her back at his touch, offering herself to him. The way her naked nipples hardened against his moist tongue. The way goosebumps decorated her entire body. Her reaction to his touch sent his mind in a chaos. What happened in the afternoon was nothing compared to how she blossomed under him now.

As soon as she tugged at his t-shirt, he removed his clothes, just his black briefs on him. Temari took him in, he looked like a sculpture. He appeared so lean clothed but his arms were huge and his chest was stunning. The light hair sprinkled all over softened his hard chest and chiselled face. Temari couldn't take her eyes off his torso, she was practically drooling. Shikamaru felt his face heating up at her gaze. He'd never been looked at like that.

"Like what you see, princess?" he spoke when he recovered from all her oggling.

"Hmm," she smiled coyly and bit her lips.

She saw his briefs stretching, the bulge too prominent to miss. She moved her face towards his clothed cock and licked the tip eliciting a groan from him. She moved her face to the side of his waist and tongued the waistband of his briefs. She took the waistband in between her teeth and pulled his briefs down. His cock slapped his stomach as it broke free from being constrained for so long. Shikamaru stayed absolutely still, breathing heavily, his eyes never leaving hers.

Temari gave his cock a slow, wet lick from the base to the tip and he twitched, lightly slapping her cheek. She showered it with moist kisses and fluttered her tongue around his pale pink and warm head.

"Fuck..." Shikamaru suddenly grabbed Temari and flipped her around.

"On your knees, ma'am."

Before Temari could even settle in, she felt his cock rubbing against at her clit. She looked back at him as she moved with him.

"So eager, Shika..ahh fuck,"

Shikamaru thrust three fingers inside her before she could complete her sentence, taking her by surprise. His other hand bunched up her hair. He moved his fingers hard and fast. He noticed Temari's toes curling and her head digging into the backrest. He leaned over her and kissed her back and neck before he spoke.

"You're doing so well baby, let me feel you cumming around my fingers," he spoke in a soft voice.

"I...I'm gonna...cum."

Shikamaru felt his heart beating like a hummingbird as he felt Temari clench around his fingers and he felt a warmth coating his hands and his cock. She whimpered quietly, her voice lost from the powerful orgasm, at finding the release she had been denied all day. Shikamaru pulled out his fingers, positioned his cock at her cunt, and dug his hands in her waist as he slowly began to enter her.

"Shika..Shikmaru, plea.. I can't.." Temari panted, still recovering from her orgasm.

"Shhh, you're taking me so well baby, just a little bit more." He slowed down even more, giving her time to adjust. Her thighs shivered as she eased around him and took him in.

"You're easing around me just fine, princess. I promise I'm gonna be slow." murmured Shikamaru against her flesh.

He slowly started moving and increased his pace, and Temari's moans got louder with each thrust, till she was screaming out his name, till she was babbling nonsense. His hands travelled everywhere across her body hungrily. Shikamaru's face burned, his heart fluttered, and he felt like a million little butterflies had just taken birth in his belly. He never wanted to hear anything else from Temari except whatever escaped her petal-like lips as he fucked her. She held his hand tight.

"Fuck..ahh" He loved the way she cussed in a small voice before he felt her gushing around him again; the profanity morphed into something lovely coming from her wet mouth. He felt himself buckling as he thrust himself inside her hard and pulled out, eliciting an ungodly voice from Temari.

He flipped her around again, and positioned himself between her legs. He entered her again, slowly, and cupped her right breast with his hand and took her left nipple in his mouth. A sigh of relief left Temari's lips as she stroked his hair.

He moved in and out of her gently and his lips made their way up to her neck, nibibling and kissing her chest and shoulders and arms till he buried his face in her neck, settling in.

Temari's hands roamed all over his body and finally came to rest on his shoulders, her legs were hitched around his waist. She could see his back and hips flex with each thrust. It made her clench harder around him and arch her back into him. They moved together, taking each other in as much as they could, Shikamaru nibbled and sucked on her neck and she circled her tongue around his earrings.

He panted and her broken sighs followed with every thrust. They were lost in the way they both came undone with each other, the messy, sloppy sound of his cock moving in and out of her the only thing that pulled them back to reality.

"Shikamaru, I'm gonna.. gonna...unfff."

He could feel her tightening around him like never before before she suddenly loosened up. She came around his cock, growing so wet that he slipped out of her. He pushed himself back inside her, making her bite his neck, and started fucking her relentlessly. Overstimulated, Temari suddenly shivered violently and squirted.

"That's it, love. Such a good girl."

He didn't break his pace and Temari's nails dug into his back, scratching him everywhere. Shikamaru grit his teeth so he wouldn't make a sound as she used his body to calm down. After what seemed like like a blissful eternity of short and quick thrusts, Shikamaru pulled out again and sat up on the sofa, his legs spread open. He kissed the entirety of her legs, waiting for her to recover from her orgasm. When he saw she'd calmed down, he held Temari's waist and brought her on top of him.

"I want to watch you," he murmured against her breasts. The intensity with which he looked at her made Temari uncontrollably shy and she felt a raw heat taking flight in her belly and face.

"Haven't you watched me enough already?" she panted, still out of breath, hinting at what he'd done to her after brunch.

"It's never going to be enough."

She breathed heavily on his skin as she felt his cock twitching against her clit. She involuntarily moved against his hardness, making him grunt.

Shikamaru traced her outline and took her breasts in his mouth, sucking and nibbling at them, as she moved slowly. She took his cock in her hand and positioned it, and then sat on him in one go, making Shikamaru throw his head back and dig his fingers in her hips.

"fuck."

He recovered and watched her slowly grind against him and sucked a breath in through his gritted teeth.

"Fuck, Temari, you're dri... what the hell?" his head suddenly snapped at the windows. He looked pissed, his eyebrows suddenly sharper. Confused, Temari looked at the windows as well.

Shikamaru drew the curtains shut with his shadows. They heard giggles and quick footsteps outside until everything went quiet.

"I bet it's Sakura and Ino," giggled Temari.

He felt her tighten around him.

"Oh, you like that, huh? Being watched like that?"

"N..no! They've been after my life for ‘details’."

"Would you like to put a show on for the girls?" he asked in a small whisper. He felt her clench around him again. He twitched inside her, at the thought of everyone watching him make her his. "I think it's you who'd like to put on a show, no?" challenged Temari.

Shikamaru blushed and then came alive with a child-like laughter. He held her head and brought it to his neck. He kissed her head and then without a warning, he started fucking her hard, and faster, than before. She bit down on his neck, marking him pink and purple, as he fucked her till she lost her voice and came around him in quick successions again. Spent and tired, she clung to him like a child. Shikamaru got up and carried her upstairs to the bedroom, all the while throbbing inside her.

He laid her down on his bed and spooned her. Shikamaru was hard as a rock and ready to go but he knew Temari was too spent. He gave her small nibbles and bites as he traced her body with his hands, fingering all her scars.

"You never said anything, you know?

"What do you mean?"

"When I said I love you."

"Hmm. Should I have said something?"

"Yes," she replied curtly.

"Yeah? Like what?"

"I don't know. Anything."

"Let me say it to you in my way?" he murmured.

"And what way is that?" she turned her head to look at him, frowning.

He made her lick his hands and stroked his cock, wetting it before he entered her ever so slowly. He lifted her leg and hooked it on his arm as they both looked deep into each other's eyes. Both of them gasped as his balls kissed her clit. Temari felt fuller than before and Shikamaru's face felt hot.

"Rub yourself," Shikamaru whispered.

Temari immediately complied and he felt her ass digging into his belly. He moved inside of her in slow and hard thrusts for a while before Temari felt his pace faltering. He looked at her and raised his eyebrows in question. She bit her lip and nodded quickly.

Temari came around him again. She couldn't bear how intimate it all was. The moment she tightened around him, he grunted, hid his face in her hair, and came inside of her, his warmth spreading everywhere inside her.

They both passed out before Shikamaru had a chance to slip out of her.

Right before sunrise, Shikmaru woke up, his limp cock still buried in Temari. He pulled out slowly and Temari stirred. He covered her up with a blanket and went to the washroom to freshen up. Itching for a cigarette, he went downstairs to his balcony. He lightly pinched himself to check if he was in a dream. Then he muttered at his own stupidity. When he made his way upstairs, she was snoring lightly. He sat beside her. After an hour or so of just observing her, he felt himself getting hard. He leaned his head back on the headrest. "Mendukse onna," he muttered under his breath, genuinely tired of his own arousal for her.

He slowly moved between her legs and started to lightly nibble at her clit. He placed small kisses on her mound. When he couldn't control himself, he dove in, lapping up her pussy messily. She sighed and moaned deeply as she rose from her deep sleep. She jerked and came quickly on his tongue.

"Morning, baby," Shikamaru murmured against her spasming thighs. "Morning," Temari whispered, slightly out of breath.

He quickly came up to spoon her again and showered her neck with kisses, making her laugh. That same laugh that had made him realise he'd fallen in love with her. That same laugh that had made him realise that he didn't only appreciate her as a friend, didn't only have immense respect for her, didn't only have this need to be a better person for her, but also wanted her to be entirely his. He kissed her lips deeply, his heart beating so loudly he thought he would faint. They lay there, kissing each other for a long time.

"Shikamaru, I want...I want a life with you." "Me too, baby," he whispered against her back. "I want...I want a nice house with you, I want to take care of you, I want to go on missions with you." He stilled. After a brief pause, she mustered the courage to say something she'd only ever dreamed of. "I want... I want a child with you." His eyes widened. It took him a moment to recover but to Temari's surprise he took it quite well. "Yeah? Only if it'll have your eyes." "And your hair," she said way too quick. "But, only after some time. I want to spend time with you first. I want your undivided attention for a while."

He turned her around and kissed her deep again. He then held her waist and made her sit on his face. Temari gasped.

"I can't get enough of you Temari. Stay for a while. Please don't go back just yet." He spoke against her thighs. He lazily licked her swollen clit, taking his sweet time. She rode his face slow and then gradually increased her pace to match the messy and quick way his tongue loved her. She moaned his name hoarsely as she gushed around his mouth again. She felt him smiling against her throbbing wetness.

She moved to sit down on his groin, rubbing his cock against her wetness. Shikamaru folded his hands behind his head as he watched her sleepily. As she took him inside her, he squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip. She slowly moved on top of him, her breasts hovered over his chest and face.

"Cum for me, Shikamaru," she whispered as she increased her pace. She felt his balls harden and scrunch up against her ass and he shivered and moaned out her name. He thrusted her hard thrice and Temari felt him cumming inside her again. She lied down on top of him and he stroked her hair, her clip shone bright in the soft morning sunlight.

He kissed her forehead. "I love you."

///

Afterthoughts

I think the whole idea of Ino and Sakura being so nosy really fits in well with the whole dynamic. I really enjoyed crafting the dialogue. I think the slightly voyeuristic undertone to this piece has really been derived from Ino and Choji spying on ShikaTema in the anime. A lot of fanart also has Ino and Choji in the background. And so, it isn’t really kinky or dirty sex here, but more about bringing out that old-school friendship that Shikamaru shares with Ino and others.

I have deliberately removed Choji from this piece. I don’t know but I dont think I can ever write Choji well. I also feel that Shikamaru would actually share girl problems with Ino or Naruto. But for all other life stuff, he would actually talk to Choji. I also really enjoyed writing the internal struggle that Shikamaru faced. The hair clip was really only put in the story to bring out his need to plan and prepare for something that he knows is totally out of his control.

I found it tough to write Temari’s strong character at first (specially in the scene where she’s kinda tied up) but I realised that she doesn’t have to be strong with and around Shikamaru. That’s largely what draws me to them. The whole idea of both of these calm and strong characters going batshit crazy for each other is really an HC for me, haha. Both of them are so secure in and sure of each other’s strength - they really don’t have to put up a facade.

The scene where Shikamaru buys the Kunai for Temari is really a manifestation of his respectful love™ for Temari. He wants to buy her the world but he also understands that she’s fully capable of doing that herself. He understands that she has a strong sense of ‘I can get stuff done on my own’ and doesn’t want to step on it. He merely wants to feel included in her life. He wants to get her things that will remind her of him when he’s away. He wants to be in every corner of her life, as he wants her to be in every corner of his life. Idk if I am articulating this well but this is a dynamic I really fkn DIG.

#shikatema #shikamaru x temari #shikamaru nara #Temari #naruto #naruto shippuden #ShikaTema smut #fanfica

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