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#im not even going to attempt it. fire me then
ros3cherie · 2 days
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·.༄࿔ TAKE ME TO PARIS part 2. my mlist
𝒋𝒐𝒉𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒄𝒌 & 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒔 𝒅𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓
💋ྀིྀི résumé : the gifts won’t stop, along with john’s paranoia. he won’t even let you out of the hotel.
1.6k words + tags : dumb, ‘naive’ !reader, manipulation, fantasizing, smut, age gap, pet names, fingering, slight non-con, evil intent, brat-taming⭑
୭ৎ … im so sorry yall had to wait so long for this, but im finally finished !! more chapters to come, and I hope you enjoy…if there are any error, ignore! (part 1 here) - sincerely, rose
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DAYS PASSED, and John's concern only seemed to intensify. He hovered nearby constantly, his watchful gaze never leaving your side, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. The gifts from Marquis didn’t stop either, a jewelry a day.
At first, you found John’s behavior endearing, a testament to his unwavering dedication to keeping you safe. But as time wore on, his constant vigilance began to chafe, leaving you feeling suffocated by his overbearing presence.
"I'm just going for a walk, John," you protested, attempting to slip past him as he stood guard by the hotel entrance.
His grip tightened on your arm, his eyes flashing with undisguised worry. "I can't let you out of my sight, not with him out there," he insisted, his tone firm and resolute.
Frustration bubbled up inside you as you shook off his hold, refusing to be caged like some delicate bird.
"I'm not a child, John. I can take care of myself," you snapped, storming towards the door, before the brooding man stopped you and held his position in front of the door.
“I said no.”
His voice was cold, you were getting on his nerves. Paranoid or not, he couldn’t let you go outside.
“Don’t make me repeat myself, my patience has already been thrown out the window.” He glared at you, you could tell he wasn’t joking, but you just can’t help but to talk back.
“You’re such a brute. You can’t keep me here fore—“ You widened your eyes, feeling a hand read gently on your mouth. Fluttering your eyelashes to John’s gaze, your face flushed, your eyebrows narrowing.
“Stop being a brat.” He murmured, his words slipping smoothly through his lips. He leaned in close to you, staring until he flipped your body completely around to hold you against the wall.
“I’m just looking out for you, is that so hard to understand?”
As John pressed you against the wall, his firm grip sending shivers down your spine, you couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. His proximity ignited a fire within you, stirring desires that had long lain dormant.
With a defiant smirk, you met his intense gaze head-on, the heat of his breath mingling with yours as you leaned in closer, the tension crackling between you like electricity.
"You're not my keeper, John," you countered, your voice laced with equal parts defiance and desire. "I can take care of myself."
But before you could utter another word, John's lips crashed against yours, his kiss fierce and demanding, leaving you breathless and dizzy with longing. His hands roamed your body with a possessive urgency, igniting a fierce hunger deep within your core.
“Do you understand what no means?” He leaned back, scoffing at your flushed state. Now turning your body around to face him, his eyes trailed your body top to bottom, your heart pacing, knowing what was next.
With a gasp, you melted into him, your resistance crumbling beneath the weight of his passion. Every touch, every caress sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, building to a fever pitch that threatened to consume you whole.
It didn’t take long until you felt his hands start to trail up your silk dress, his hand could be seen rubbing along your thighs through the thin fabric. Each whimper you gave was met with a smirk from John, only fueling his ego.
“Seems like this brat is already so wet for me. Is this what you wanted? To push my buttons to end up like this?”
Your breath hitched as John’s hands explored the curves of your body, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through you with every teasing touch. His words, though laced with arrogance, only served to stoke the flames of your desire, igniting a primal need that begged to be sated.
With a low whimper, you arched into his touch, unable to deny the intoxicating effect he had on you. “N-No I didn’t mean to I…,” you murmured, your voice dripping with seduction as you trailed your fingers along the contours of his chest.
The tension between you crackled with raw intensity, each touch, each whispered word fueling the inferno of passion that raged between you. Lost in the heat of the moment, his fingers eventually met contact with your wet folds, a moan slipping past your lips.
“J-John..” you croaked, squinting.
“I told you there would be punishments for your behavior.” You couldn’t even reply back in time when he had slipped a finger inside your wet hole, gasping into the air. A few pumps from his digits already made you a moaning mess.
Your words caught in your throat as John’s touch sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, rendering you speechless as ecstasy washed over you in dizzying waves. His fingers, skilled and knowing, delved deeper into your core, igniting a firestorm of desire that threatened to consume you whole.
Every pump, every stroke sent you spiraling closer to the edge, your moans echoing in the air as you surrendered yourself to the overwhelming pleasure that John bestowed upon you. His touch was like a drug, intoxicating and addictive, leaving you craving more with each passing moment.
He smirked, eventually pulling his fingers away to bring to his mouth, tasting you. You widened your eyes, wondering why he stopped as jaw hung open, your poor cunt soaked and wanting more.
John’s smirk only deepened as he savored the taste of your arousal on his fingers, his gaze locked with yours as he drank in your reaction with undisguised satisfaction. Your widened eyes and parted lips spoke volumes, your confusion and desire swirling together in a heady mix that only fueled his own arousal.
“Such a sweet little thing,” he murmured, his voice dripping with sinful promise as he leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. “You want more, don’t you?” He laughed wickedly. This was your punishment. He wasn’t going to continue, he was going to make you wait for it.
He scoffed, leaving you breathless and aching for more as he reveled in the power he held over you. Your body throbbed with need, every nerve on edge as you craved his touch like a drug.
“Clean yourself up, darling,” he said casually, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just transpired between you.
Confusion and frustration warred within you as you struggled to make sense of his abrupt change in demeanor. Had it all been a game to him? A cruel joke at your expense?
With trembling hands, you gathered your wits about you, forcing yourself to stand on shaky legs as you attempted to compose yourself. But the memory of his touch lingered like a fever dream, leaving you reeling in its wake.
Now stepping out of the steaming shower, you sighed to yourself, thinking back to John’s advances just an hour ago. You should’ve known he had a trick up his sleeve just to toy with you.
Before you could dwell on the thought any longer, your phone rang, startling you out of your reverie. Glancing at the caller ID, you frowned in confusion at the unfamiliar number. Hesitantly, you answered, bringing the phone to your ear.
"Bonjour, ma chérie," a smooth voice purred from the other end, sending a chill down your spine.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything." Recognition dawned on you as you realized who was calling. "Marquis," you greeted evenly, masking the tremor in your voice. “How did you find my number…”
"Ah, I know a guy," he replied, his voice dripping with honeyed charm. "Tell me, have you been enjoying my little gifts?"
Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to maintain your composure. "I appreciate the gesture," you replied tersely, forcing a note of indifference into your tone.
Deep down, you weren’t scared or threatened that the man called you, in fact, you welcomed it. Perhaps you could use this as payback for John?
The Marquis's laughter echoed in your ears, he had noticed your tone of voice . "Oh, ma chérie, you wound me," he purred. "But tell me, have you left Paris? I haven’t seen you anywhere…”
Yeah, thanks to John. You thought in your head.
“I simply admire beautiful things, and you, my dear, are the most exquisite masterpiece of them all. A shame I haven’t seen you since the auction.
Despite the danger and warning bells ringing in your mind, a rebellious spark ignited within you at the Marquis’s words. You couldn’t deny the thrill that coursed through you at the thought of defying John, of embracing the danger that lurked just beyond the shadows.
As the Marquis’s laughter echoed in your ears, you felt a surge of defiance welling up inside you.
“I’m still here, Marquis,” you replied, your voice laced with a hint of mischief. “And I must say, your absence hasn’t gone unnoticed either.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by a low chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine. “Ah, so you’re still playing games, ma chérie,” he murmured, his voice tinged with amusement. “I must say, I do admire your spirit.”
The Marquis’s laughter filled the air once more, a sound that sent a thrill of anticipation racing through your veins. “Well then, my dear,” he purred. “Let’s see just how far that taste for danger will take you.”
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the end ! part 3 in progress…
© ros3cherie 2024 . do not copy !
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splatoonmaster69 · 2 years
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.
#vent tw#on one hand i dont think ill live past highschool#like im not sure ill attempt again but idk#on the other i dont wanna br another statistic#but st the same time im not spiteful enough to stay alive just cuz i dont wanna be a percent#and like theres really no reason for me to live like#im horrible at school so university is gonna end up out of the question whether i like it or not#which means ill need to get a job cuz dad says when we graduate we either go into further education or start paying rent#but knowing me ill end up yelling st my boss or something so ill just get fired#and really like its not like i have anything to contribute to the world other than being the shittiest cashier ever#im bad at like everything i do#and even the things im 'good' at like drawing i can only do every few months#the most drawings i got out near eachother were all simple chibis and they were exhausting#i can cook but i cant control the stove temperature or anything well so when i make food its a coinflip if its over or under cooked#im decent at gaming but not good enough to win tournaments and not funny enough for youtube or twitch#theres nothing i can do well enough and consistent enough for me to do anything at all with my life#even if there was the world is burning half the worlds countries are going to shit and im too cowardly and lazy to try and do shit about it#so really what am i even doing#wasting my dads money and energy? being a burden on the education system because you cant teach someone who wont learn?#distracting everyone around me from things that could actually be important?#theyd all be better off if i never existed#and yknow the best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago the second best time is today#sure theyre attached to me now but theyll get over it. every day where im not dead is just ruining things for other people#man. first day unmedicated again and im already like this lmao#i wish i was back on the blood pressure ones not because they actually fixed me but because then id be too tired to think again#i could just wake up dizzily get out of bed fall walk downstairs and fall asleep on the couch before my legs got too tired#sure it felt horrible at the time like i couldnt do anything but stleast i had a reason for not being able to do anything#and theres something comforting about popping four pills in ur mouth knowing theyre the thing making you feel so bad every day#plus if id stayed on them i wouldntve had to go thru the withdrawal and that sucked
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godzexperiment · 11 months
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nix 100% could fill multiple notebooks with both fully formed and completly not even half formed ideas to kill his maker (especially in verses/moods where it's like 'so help me if that piece of shit goes back on it and returns i'm going to be real furious' *cough* the ones where it was an especially horrific existence up in heaven especially *cough*)
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roaron · 1 year
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MHA boys getting caught masturbating
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authors note : hello all, I know ive been writing a lot of MHA related stuff lately, but do not worry. that isn’t all I wrote about LOL, im just in a MHA mood. if you want me to write for any other characters just go ahead and ask, saves me time instead of me having to think of different characters to write for. cheers :)
characters - (izuku midoriya, shoto todoroki, katsuki bakugo)
warnings - nsfw obviously
minors don’t be doing no funky shit, get lost or just hide in the shadows idc
enjoy !
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Izuku Midoriya
- when you initially walk in on him his head is flung back, legs spread, naked chest heaving, and his hand on his cock. what a sight.
- he doesn’t even notice you until after he cums, so when he finally looks forward and sees you staring at him he screams and grabs a pillow to try and hide his dick.
“Y/N !!!???, OMG IM SO S-SO SORRY”
- he refuses to look at you until you move towards him and sit at the corner of the bed.
“want some help ?”
- he looks at you absolutely shocked but nods shyly nonetheless
Shoto Todoroki
- notices you straight away and immediately looks away from you, his face completely red and his fire side raging out of control.
“y/n… please knock next time..”
- he still refuses to look at you, the duvet brought over himself in an attempt to hide his erect cock spewing cum everywhere.
- you both stay there for a while until you decide to speak up and break the awkward silence.
“shoto, would you like me to help you finish ?”
- he snaps his head towards you and stares at you wide eyed before hanging his head low in embarrassment.
“…yes please”
Katsuki Bakugo
- the second he notices you his eyes blow wide and he starts saying curses under his breath. he finally looks at you after about a minute of silence, cheeks dusted pink.
“enjoying the fucking show ? hurry up and get out.”
- you decide to ignore him and keep staring at his naked figure, nipples perked and abs flexed under a glossy sheen of sweat. your mind runs wild as you catch you bottom lip between your teeth and play with the bottom of your skirt.
- bakugo notices your change in behaviour and let’s out a chuckle before sitting up straight and crossing his legs, cock still on display.
“for gods sake, stop eye fucking me and get over here”
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ichangedmycornyahhname · 10 months
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Earth 42!Miles x reader
Summary: Reader grows suspicious of Miles, and eventually puts all the clues together. He’s the prowler. And she’s avoiding him. Ignoring his texts, calls, anything else. So finally, he confronts her.
Warnings: None really? Cursing, some kissing here and there, pretty fluffy. Nothing too bad (though if I make a part two I can’t say the same.) Not proofread at all- part.2 here
The text simply read, “Really Y/N?”
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Her brows raised, confusion finding her expression at her boyfriends text. For the past few months Miles has been very suspicious. Leaving with his uncle to go gods knows where in this broken down city. “What is he talking about..?” She muttered to herself as she stared at the grey bubble. Her thumbs hovered over the screen as thoughts jumbled together in her mind. Did he know? Did he know that she found out?
She shut the phone off, setting it down on the balcony’s thin railing. Her eyes fell upon the dim city, the neon purple and green colliding together in a fierce blend of colors. She always reminisced about how the city was before crime took over. It was normal, you were able to walk the streets without being snatched or robbed. Maybe even killed depending how far into the city you go. A sigh aired from her lips, her head hanging down as she leaned against the railing. Her arms kept her propped up, allowing her to take a step back so that she had room to rest her head onto her forearms. “So you just gonna leave me on seen mami?” She jolted, her head shooting up and taking a peek over her shoulder. Behind her on the fire escape was miles, his relaxed demeanor coming as no surprise. His bulky coat, jeans, and Nike airs drawing a small smile to her face.
“Sorry Miles..got a bit distracted. Thinking.” She chuckled under her breath, attempting to break the ice. Miles approached, now leaning against the railing beside her with a hardly noticeable smirk. “So, you’re just gonna pretend you don’t know? Y/N.” His gaze hardened, his eyes now boring into the side of her head. This caused her to close her eyes, a sharp inhale coming from her. “That’s all I can do, ain’t it?” She paused, taking a moment before turning around, now propping her elbows onto the railing. She rested her back against the rusted metal, her shoulders relaxing as her eyes met his. “Miles, I know you’re doing what you think is right..I’m not gonna tell you off or anything. I just- fuck I wish you just told me. You buy me all these things, and earn all this money, and I knew..I knew it wasn’t from anything good. But you being the..” Her voice caught in her throat, her lips pursing together into a thin line as she struggled to speak the name. Miles took notice of this almost immediately. His smirk was gone, now flat teetering on the edge of a frown. His pretty hazel eyes raked up and down her figure before returning to her gaze. He held it, his stare unnerving. “Being the what ma?” He inquired, his brows furrowing ever so slightly. This ticked her off, his attempt to bluff, or change the topic. Or whatever the hell he wanted to call it. She scoffed, her hands raised in defense as she stood from the comfort of the railing. “Are you being serious Miles? You’re just gonna pretend like I don’t know what im talking about? I saw the suit. And you’re always leaving with your uncle to wherever the hell y’all go. Fuck- if you’re just gonna sit here and glare at me then go somewhere.”
“Y/N, chill.” He said. No, commanded, and Y/N did not like that. “The fuck you mean chill? Miles, how are we gonna be in a relationship and you’re just gonna lie to me the entire time? Psh, you can have this back.” She reached behind her neck, pulling the necklace with their initials off and tossing it at him. He caught it almost instinctively, the silver necklace now resting in his palm. He sighed, his hand coming up to rest on his braids. “Cmon mami, don’t be like this. I was only trying to protect you. Don’t you get that man?” He stepped closer, his hand coming to take a hold of hers. He laced his fingers with hers, his pretty eyes focusing in on her. “Why would I tell you something that could get you killed? escúcheme mami.” He let go of her hand, now holding the necklace up and wrapping it around her neck. “I would never want to hurt you, you know this. I didn’t want to tell you that for that reason.” He clipped the necklace together, the shiny metal now resting around her neck. “You know I wouldn’t want you to get hurt, right ma?” She blinked, her stomach swirling with that familiar feeling. Butterflies, this man always gave her butterflies. “Right..I’m sorry I just..-“ He cut in, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. “You’re talking too much ma.” He says before placing a pleasant kiss onto her lips. It’s gentle, patient, and forgiving. It almost has her knees buckling. Her arms wrap around his neck, his hand now finding sanction on her hips. Their lips lingered for a moment, the silence being broken by the honking and chattering of the crime ridden city. And while the city was a complete hell, Miles made everything so worth it. And it was the same for him. Her and his mother kept him going. Slowly they parted, though their noses were now nuzzling against one another as they rested in one another’s arms. “M’proud of you baby..you work so hard for us.” She muttered, which only drew a hum from him.
The two were so immersed in one another that they hadn’t taken notice of Aaron standing at the bottom of the fire escape. His lips curved into a smirk as he watched the two coddle one another. “Yo Miles, Cmon man. You can see your girl later. We got stuff to do.” He shouted up to them, drawing the two from their entanglement. Miles retreated from her arms, a small smile decorating his purple tinted face, the city lights making him look oh so good. “I’ll see you later ma, Ight? And go check on my mom for me yeah? Thanks.” He said as he began to climb down the stairwell. “Te amo mami.” He shouted from the distance. “Love you too baby!” She shouted back gleefully while waving him and Aaron goodbye. And just as you thought he was about to leave, Miles popped back up, strolling over and placing his hand under her chin.
He grasped it lightly, his lips finding hers once more. Yet, this kiss was much more intense. He bit and nipped at her lips, all whilst he watched her face contort, melting into his kiss. The kiss lingered, as did his lips as he pulled away. His pretty hazel eyes took in her flushed out face, his lips curling into a smirk. “Imma send you some money later mami, so you can get your nails done in that color I like. Kay?” He said before finally, he departed. He hopped back down and joined Aaron.
Y/N stood there, her face hot and her body even hotter as she pondered on his words. She knew exactly what he wanted. With one last sigh she retreated back into the open window behind her, her dimly lit bedroom greeting her. Tonight she would go to sleep with a clear conscience, no longer needing to worry about Miles and his secret escapades.
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thelaisydazy · 1 month
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Firefighter!Simon Riley x Reader - Locked Out
“Riley! Bad dog!”
You don’t have time to look up before a familiar German Shepherd barrels into you, knocking you to the ground and sending your keys skittering across the sidewalk. 
You sputter as the dog licks your face before a hand grips Riley’s collar and pulls him off you. You wipe the dog slobber from your face and look up expecting to see Simon, instead you see a broad man with a short mohawk, attempting to reign in the overexcited dog. 
“Sorry leannan, dinnae mean fur ‘im tae get away from me,” he said as you started to get back on your feet. 
“S’alright,” you say, brushing off your pants. You give him a quick once over. He's wearing jeans and a tight fitting navy T-shirt with the fire department’s emblem on it. 
He gives you a lopsided grin. “Lek whit ye see, bonnie?” He teases. 
Your face feels warm as you attempt to stutter out a response. 
“I'm only joking, lasso,” he chuckles at your embarrassment. He glances at the bakery door. “Gett’n off yer joab? Ye must be that wee thing the LT acts so sweet aboot.”
You stare at him for several moments, having little idea what he's saying. “I uh… I was just getting off work yeah,” you finally say. “Bakery's closed for the day, sorry.”
“Oh naw, I wasn’t look’n tae buy anyfing,” he said warmly. “Jus’ walkin’ Riley ‘ere.” He stuck a hand out. “Ye can call me Johnny.”
You shake his hand, giving him your name as well. “It’s nice to meet you,” you say. “I don’t mean to rush off, but I need to get home.” You stick your hands in your pockets, finally registering that your keys weren’t in their usual place. You pat your other pockets before looking around at the ground. 
“Whit ye look’n fer?” Johnny asked. 
“My keys,” you say. “I think I dropped them when Riley ran up.” Your eyes scan the sidewalk before spotting the storm drain by the curb. Johnny seems to read your mind as he walks over and looks through the grate. 
“Wee charm oan it?” he asks. 
You groan. Of course your keys had fallen into the storm drain. How were you supposed to get into your apartment now? Your landlord was away on holiday and he hadn’t left a spare behind. He wouldn’t be back until tomorrow night. You’d just spend the night in the bakery, but you’d already locked up for the night and no one would be back until morning. 
Johnny seems to sense your distress as he claps you on the back, knocking you from your thoughts. “Ye can stay wi’ us at th’ station house,” he suggested. “We can even get yer keys oot th’ drain fur ye.”
“I don’t wanna be a both-” you start to say but are cut off by Johnny. 
“Dinna fash!” he beamed at you. “ Nae trouble at all.”
Before you could protest, Johnny wraps a muscular arm over your shoulder and starts to guide you back to the station, grinning to himself as Riley trotted happily next to you. Simon was going to love this.
---
As a treat, here's a second one today <3
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kitten4sannie · 3 months
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pairing: ex! san x fem! reader feat. wingman seonghwa and instigator mingi
genres: omg actual plot ??, exes to lovers, romance, angst with a happy ending, fluff, an attempt at humor, smut finale
summary: during a winter getaway with your friends, you end up having to come face to face with Choi San, the man who broke your heart in two just last christmas.
w.c: 8.2k
tags: features the unholy trinity: misunderstandings/miscommunication/messiness, drama (i bring drama-ma-ma-ma~), alcohol use, mutual jealousy, mutual pining, lots of banter, third parties, poor sannie and reader are just two big dummies with even bigger hearts </3,, like 20 flashbacks (okay it’s like 2 but i like being dramatic sue me), too many winter analogies, insecurities, confessions, l bombs, tears, all that jazz
warnings: soft dom! san (literally the softest dom to ever exist IM SICK), subby! reader, pussydrunk san and cockdrunk reader (like these mfs are so desperate for each other it’s actually disgusting), dirty talk, pet names, praise, possessiveness, kissing, a lot of spit (leave me alone!!!), tit play, grinding, body worship, oral (receiving), passionate condomless lovemaking by the fire baybeeeee, breeding kink, bulge kink, creampies
a/n: so i listen to last christmas religiously every year and while i was jamming my hamster brain was like “WRITE WRITE WRITE” so i diddd and yeahh this happened??? lmao but fr this was the most fun i’ve ever had writing since feb filth fest…. like wtf. i gotta write plot forward fics more often this shit’s like a drug man. anyways i hope you enjoy my dear lovelies <33
*shoutout to my sweetheart bunbun @cottoncandy-girl for beta reading and hyping this fic up during the writing process. i would’ve second guessed myself twice as much if not for you. you’re a lifesaver!! mwah mwah ~~
song rec for the general vibe: last christmas by wham obv <3, fool by frankie cosmos, snowfall (slowed and reverb) by oneheart, know me by gemini, easily by bruno major, flowers and chocolate by eyedress
angst: pleaser by the wallows, do me right by gemini, homesick by wave to earth, cherie by hojean
smut: mice city by hotel ugly, between your thighs by jimmy brown, lock me in by hojean, touch by keshi, your love by brb
Masterlist
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“Hey, Y/N,” your best friend began, walking around the side of your beat-up car to the trunk where you were busy shoving various suitcases and bags into the small space and trying to make them fit. “So, don’t get mad, but–”
With a case of wine bottles in hand, you slowly set it down on the lip of the trunk, side-eyeing your friend with the intensity of a thousand suns. It was so powerful, it’d probably melt the snow that had been falling around your feet for the past thirty minutes. “Why would I be mad? What’s going on?”
“Just breathe for me, okay?” she sighed, bringing a hand up to play with a few strands of her hair. “So, you know how Seonghwa’s coming up to the cabin with us?”
“Um, yeah…? I don’t care about you bringing your boyfriend with us, you know. Just let me know if you’re gonna fuck so I can put my headphones on,” you replied, lifting the case up and pushing it inside the empty space of the trunk, satisfied that your long game of tetris was finally complete.
She quickly waved her hands, shaking her head. “No, that’s not…” she started, taking in a deep inhale, before letting it out, a wave of condensation hitting the cold air between the two of you. “He invited…someone. Someone you know.”
You bent down into the trunk to move a few items around, making sure they wouldn’t collapse on each other. “Okay? I only know you and a few other people, bestie. Who could it possibly be–”
“It’s San,” she finally blurted out, her face scrunching up in anticipation of your reaction.
Once your ex was spoken into existence again, a flood of memories from the previous year bombarded your defenseless brain and heart, causing you to stand up so quickly, you hit your head on the edge of the trunk lid.
“Oh my god, Y/N, are you okay?” your friend gasped, already at your side, helping you stand up straight and placing her hand on the one you had held against the back of your head.
“Oh, yeah, I’m good. I think that just knocked all the bad memories out of my brain. Ready to head out?” you chimed, giving her a thumbs up with your keys in hand, stumbling a bit in place, your vision fading out slightly.
Sighing, your friend reached for the keys. “Yeah, I’m driving.”
❆ ❆ ❆
Your friend pulled her keys out of the ignition once she parked in a free space near the cabin you’d both be staying at, turning her head to observe the way you were playing with the drawstrings of your joggers with a pout on your sullen face. “Y/N, are you sure you’re okay? You know, we’re visiting everyone else later, so you can always stay at their cabin, if you’d like. It’s much bigger and has wifi, and definitely won’t have S–”
“I’m not a little bitch,” you suddenly whined, your eyebrows furrowed, your pout growing. “I can handle being in the same cabin with my dumbass ex, okay? I don’t even care that he’s here, actually.”
She nodded her head knowingly, giving you a gentle smile. “Just let me know if you’re uncomfortable, please. And if he starts up with one of his…unique personalities, tell me or Seonghwa, alright? He knows how to handle him.”
“I can handle him myself. There’s plenty of snow for me to toss him into, or some flames if our cabin has a fireplace,” you muttered, too stubborn to admit that your heart would most likely explode as soon as you had the displeasure of witnessing his disgustingly handsome face and charming dimpled smile.
Your friend shook her head slightly, unable to keep from smiling in your direction. “There is a fireplace, yeah.”
You sighed contentedly, admiring the expanse of dense snow, the sundry of oversized pine trees, the far away mountains covered in white, and the cluster of cozy-looking cabins beyond the frosted windshield. “Finally, some good news.”
Once you both got to the front steps of the cabin you’d be staying at, your arms full of the items that you could bring from the car, the front door swung open, almost giving you a heart attack on the spot.
“Baby, you’re here!” Seonghwa gasped, pulling your friend into his arms when she set her stuff down on the porch and spinning her around in a small circle, his eyes twinkling with pure adoration.
Once Seonghwa acknowledged your presence with a warm greeting, you stood off to the side while your friend and Seonghwa kissed and giggled with each other, your arms beginning to feel like jelly, wishing someone would just stamp the words “third wheel” on your forehead already.
“That looks heavy,” you heard someone say in a deeply familiar baritone voice, causing you to whip your head towards the origin, your wide eyes meeting San’s concerned coffee brown ones. “Do you want me to carry it in for you?”
“San,” you automatically blurted out, alarm bells going off, the mini versions of you running around in panic inside your head, your fingers clasping tighter around your things.
“Y/N,” he parroted back in the same cadence, already moving closer to you, his arms sliding underneath your belongings and holding them up with ease, his navy sweater doing nothing to conceal the solid mass of his arm muscles. “Is it like, misogynistic for me to carry your things?”
You opened and closed your hands, trying your get rid of the pins and needles. “No, I’d say it’s progressive since it’s a big dumb caveman carrying my things, so women: 1, patriarchy: 0.”
San offered you a dimpled smile, his wide shoulders scrunching up slightly, as a hearty laugh emanated from his throat. “Caveman, I like that. Should I go find a cave to explore?” He tilted his head, his eyes flitting between yours and your pleasing body line. “Maybe try to start a fire?”
Your heart leapt into your throat, forcing you to gulp it down. You sneered, already beginning to push past him to enter the cabin, only turning your head back to tell him, “Start a fire and jump inside, caveman.”
San smiled at you, seeing right past your act, watching you walk away, before turning his head to look at the two lovebirds still hugging on each other. “See that? She already gave me a pet name.”
❆ ❆ ❆
“Fuck,” you groaned, dropping yourself down onto the surprisingly comfy mattress in the cozy guest room you were occupying, finally done with putting your clothes and toiletries away in their respective places, for the most part, also noticing that the violent hammering inside your chest had subsided.
And then your door opened.
“Yo, this cabin is pretty sick, right? It’s got a nice, cabin-ey feeling to it,” San announced, walking into your room and looking around like he owned the place. Typical San behavior. Whistling casually, he eventually headed over to your side of the bed, picking up a few skincare products that were sitting on your bedside table to study them. “Does this retinol shit really work?”
“Excuse me, but are you lost? This is my room,” you combated, not bothering to get up from the bed you were currently sinking into, simply turning on your back and lifting your head up slightly to glare at him.
“Bro.” San clutched his chest like you had just emptied a clip right in between his tits, his eyebrows turning upwards, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “Why do you act like we haven’t been inside each other?” He climbed onto the bed, looking down at you past his black bangs. “Matter of fact, I know you better than your little friend downstairs.”
You stared up at him, cursing yourself for wanting nothing more than to grab him by his stupid face and kiss him — but you wouldn’t, not after what he did. “You’re so gross.”
“Like in a sexy way, right?” he quipped, chuckling when you just shook your head. San slowly laid himself down beside you, looking up at the ceiling, reaching up behind his head and cupping the back of it to get more comfortable. “You didn’t argue against the fact that I know you better than your own self proclaimed ‘bestie’, you know.”
You let out a small sigh, resting your hands down at your sides, gripping the quilted blanket underneath you, your heart pounding inside your chest just like it did last Christmas. Did you ever fall out of love with him? Was that why your heart felt so stuck? Frozen in place? Like it was waiting for San to make it beat again? “Well, for once, you’re not wrong. I…let you in back then, obviously, so yeah, you know me better than she does. You know me better than anyone.”
San began to reach for your hand, hesitating for a second, not even realizing his walls were just as high. If only he could gather the courage to bring them down. “Y/N…”
You turned to look at San just as he turned his whole body towards yours, giving you one of his infamous gazes, his eyes closed ever so slightly, his lips parted, drawing in a breath. He lowered his hand, touching the top of yours, rubbing it with his thumb. “You know what else I know?”
Why did he have to do this to you? Just what the fuck was his problem?
“What, San?” you questioned underneath your breath, seconds away from losing it completely.
His eyes lost their playful twinkle, instead displaying sorrow. “Y/N, I–”
Seonghwa popped his head into the room. “Y/N, have you seen– Oh,” he deadpanned, displaying an oddly delighted smile for a split second, before his lips evened out. “We’re heading to the hang out now. It’s gonna snow pretty hard in a bit so it’s now or never.”
You both sat up from the bed, your cheeks burning like you had just been caught, well, inside of each other.
Seonghwa was about to say something when your friend walked up behind him and pulled him into whisper something, causing him to whisper back, the both of them nodding at each other.
You and San exchanged glances, before all four of you looked at one another. “Are you hiding things from me, pookie?” you playfully asked your friend, pouting.
“No, I’d never hide anything from you, pookie wookie baby bear!” she cried dramatically, running into the room and tackling you back down onto the bed.
San looked to Seonghwa, making grabby hands at him. “Where’s my hug?”
Seonghwa clicked his tongue, pointing at San’s thin sweater as it rose past his hips. “You better put on some more layers before we go, pookie bear. It’s cold as balls outside.”
❆ ❆ ❆
Instead of hanging out inside your friend’s friends’ cabin where the party was at, you loitered outside in the snow, building yourself a snowman. Maybe he’d stay by your side longer than the last one.
“Hey, what are you doing out here by yourself, ba–” San started, standing with his arm just barely pressing into yours, immediately clearing his throat, sticking his hands into his coat pockets. “Y/N, I mean, heh, sorry I’ve had a few drinks.”
You almost broke the empty beer bottle you were using as the snowman’s nose inside your hands from hearing San almost address you as baby, turning your head to look at the adorably goofy smile he had on his stupidly cute face. You bit your lip, wishing he would just say it, the layers of ice around your heart starting to crack. “I figured. Well, how come you’re out here with me, instead of shotgunning a beer or something with your caveman friends?”
Amused, San nodded his head, impressed by your ability to keep up with your shtick. “They’re too busy hanging around the fireplace, you know. The fire’s so pretty, they got distracted.” He grinned at you, grinning harder when you began to smile back at him, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of the giggle that escaped your lips. “I missed your giggle…missed you…” he murmured absentmindedly, pretending to stay busy by helping you round out the head of the snowman, while you stuck a rock into it where one of the eyes would be.
You dropped the other rock, standing still, feeling your mouth go dry. You racked your brain over his words, wanting to ask him why he didn’t stay with you in the first place if he was just going to miss you so much. You missed him too. You wanted him to know.
By the time you had made up your mind, San had picked up the rock and stuck it into the snow, completing the snowman’s face. “There we go. Mr. Snowman’s looking real nice.” He waited for a second, before turning to look at you with a concerned pout. “He’s not cuter than me, right?” When you didn’t respond, he blinked, leaning in. “Y/N?”
Instead of responding, you found yourself wrapping your arms around San’s neck, pulling him into a hug. You didn’t even say anything — you just focused on feeling his warm body against yours, recalling what it felt like to be his. His baby. If only he would just say it.
“Baby…” he whispered just under his breath, so carefully, like he risked the chance of causing an avalanche if he spoke any louder, gently rubbing your back in circles, automatically resting his head on the top of yours like he did last year. “What’s this about?”
“I don’t know, I just–” you murmured into his chest, your own about to collapse in on itself from hearing what he said, hugging onto him a little tighter than before, wishing things were different. “I…I think I’m drunk…”
“Oh…” San replied, swallowing harshly, only pulling away once you started to. He tucked a bit of hair behind your ear, giving you a concerned look. “You should come back inside and drink some water, then. Seonghwa was right to tell me to check up on you.”
Your face fell slightly, the bottle that was stuck inside the snowman drooping inside the melting snow as if it was mirroring your disappointment. “You…only came out here because Seonghwa told you to?”
“Well, I mean, he was the one that noticed you were gone, so he just thought I should make sure you were okay, yeah…” San explained, rubbing his arm.
You nodded your head, a soft smile returning to your face, not wanting San to see the hurt you felt, not yet, anyway. You were still able to hide it as of late. “That’s nice of him.”
“Yeah, Hwa’s a sweetie,” San mused, noticing the sad snowman, reaching out to fix the position of the beer bottle. “Too bad he’s taken, otherwise I’d be wifing him up and giving him the exclusive Choi San Caveman Experience. There’s a trademark on that, by the way.”He gave you another goofy smile, his smile growing when you offered him a few small giggles.
“I think you need water more than I do,” you mentioned, gently punching his arm.
San chuckled, his smile softening, wanting to say so much more than just, “You might be right.”
After a few seconds of too much silence, and too much yearning for an important conversation to take place, you instead pointed to the lively cabin behind you. “You should go get some. I’ll be back inside soon.”
“Okay, sounds good.” He put his hands back into his pockets, lingering there for a moment, before heading back inside.
You stood there for a while, watching the makeshift nose of the snowman begin to droop again, before you reeled your foot back and kicked into the base of the snowman, watching it topple over and fall apart.
❆ ❆ ❆
You lingered near the spiked punch bowl that sat inside the corner of the cabin’s empty kitchen, drinking down a solo cup’s worth of the fruity beverage and tossing the cup into the sink, not noticing another person’s presence until you turned to the side and bumped your nose into their broad chest. “Oh, shit– I’m sorry,” you apologized, backing up a bit to see that you had ran into no one other than Song Mingi, the man you had trauma dumped and cried to for an hour before having mindless rebound sex with after San dumped you. “Min, hey. Long time, no see.”
“Y/N. It’s nice to see you again. Very nice,” Mingi mused, taking a long sip of his drink, just studying you with his amused, half-closed eyes, pointing upwards with his finger. “What are the odds of this?”
“Hm?” Your eyes followed where he was pointing until your gaze settled on the mistletoe that hung from the doorway above the two of you, a memory of the past immediately lighting up the insides of your brain like the flash of a camera, the snapshot still fresh in your subconscious as though it had never faded in the first place, much like your feelings for San — but who were you to admit that to yourself?
“Jesus, what is with people and mistletoe?” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your itchy christmas sweater, ready to shield your eyes so you didn’t have to look at the two people vigorously making out underneath the red berries that were hung from the ceiling of the crowded cabin.
San hovered near you, running a hand through his hair, his eyes studying your scrunched up, flushed face, wondering how you could be so cute. “The origin of mistletoe is actually really romantic, y’know.” Once you met his gaze, his lips curled into a smile, his dimples making an appearance.
You gripped onto your sweater sleeve, smiling softly back at him, your annoyance fading. “Tell me about it then, Mr. Historian.”
San’s eyes sparkled at your reaction, his shoulder gently pressing into yours as he brought his drink up to his mouth. “Mistletoe has always been able to survive in the harshest of winters. Even when everything’s frozen…” When he lowered his hand, the side of his pinky touched yours, sending warmth into the both of your bodies. “….it still finds a way to bloom.”
You took in a quick breath, having to look down at your feet before your heart burst out of your chest as an unintentional ode to Alien and ruined the annual christmas party. “I didn’t peg you as a hopeless romantic, San.”
“I’m full of surprises, baby.” San hummed, gently taking your chin in his grasp and pressing a kiss to your lips, giggling delightedly as you buried your scorching face into his chest, his heart pounding, wanting nothing more than to show you just how hopelessly in love he was with you, but too afraid to grant you access to the very intense, very full extent of it, let alone himself.
He was full of surprises, so full of them that he was able to show such a meaningful display of love to you and still break up with you on the very same night, with little to no explanation, just a simple ‘I’m sorry.’ Choi San was truly an enigma — one you cursed yourself for still wanting to grasp, to hold, to forgive.
You looked down at Mingi’s drink only for him to motion for you to take it, immediately downing the punch until you were sucking on an ice cube and crunching it between your teeth, satisfied with the buzz coursing through your body, bitterness still seeping its way in your veins. You knew that what you were about to do wouldn’t make you feel any better, but you did it anyway, grabbing Mingi by the collar of his ugly Christmas sweater and smashing your lips against his. What you didn’t know, however, was that San was standing at the end of the hallway, with his hand in his coat pocket, there to witness how Mingi pressed you into the wall.
❆ ❆ ❆
Your friend slowly inched her way towards you from across the brightly lit, festively decorated living room full of your boisterous acquaintances having a battle with each other to determine who could be the loudest, drunkest individual in the room. Currently, it was San, unsurprisingly, who had a beer in one hand while hugging onto the obscenely large Christmas tree in the middle of the room. You couldn’t tell exactly what song he was singing, but you were pretty sure it was a romantic, mostly cheesy pop ballad from the 80s.
“Having fun?” your friend gauged softly, sitting down on the sofa in the corner beside you, clinking her glass beer bottle against yours.
You shrugged, taking a few sips of the chilled beer, crossing one leg over the other. “I made out with Mingi earlier, so that was cool, I guess.”
“You what?” she gasped, pressing closer to you, grabbing your arm and shaking you. “Y/N, oh my god, that’s so —” Her gossipy tone turned into one of concern. “But what about San?”
“What about San?” you grumbled, internally annoyed that all you could think about was San when Mingi’s tongue was down your throat. “He probably already did the same thing, considering how torched he is.”
She sighed, sinking into the couch, very well aware of how San truly felt about you, last Christmas, and how much he wanted to turn things around. Of course she would know. She had to hear it from Seonghwa, who in turn heard it from San off and on for the entire year, but she wasn’t about to speak for him. He would have to do that himself.
“Are you going to play truth, dare, or drink with us?” Mingi suddenly asked you, leaning his hip against the side of the couch, causing you and your friend to look up at him.
“Ehh.” You shrugged your shoulders at him.
He put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it, feeling someone’s eyes burning holes into the back of his head, figuring San was watching the both of you from the tree, who indeed was, his hands tightening around his beer and the scratchy pine needles he was holding onto. “It’ll be more fun if you join in, Y/N. How bout it?”
You sucked on your teeth for a second, your eyes moving past Mingi to gaze at San across the room, who was now talking to a girl who had came up to him, your stomach sinking at the clear appearance of his dimples. Stupid caveman.
You stood up, fingers squeezing around your poor beer bottle. “Fuck it, I’m in.”
“Good, good,” Mingi replied, smiling absentmindedly, bringing his own drink up to his lips, as if he wasn’t aware of the disaster he was about to bring into fruition — and all for the chance that he could recreate the events of last year’s Christmas party. It led to him having a pretty, teary-eyed girl in his bed to take care of, after all.
❆ ❆ ❆
“Yo, I can’t believe — he actually — I can’t breathe,” someone gasped out in between soundless laughs, falling back into their chair along with their other friends, pointing at San as he trudged back into the cabin past the sliding door, clad in only a form-fitting pair of christmas themed boxers, wiping some snow off of his shoulders, before immediately going for his mixed drink and tossing it back victoriously, one hand on his hip.
“You bitches really thought I wouldn’t do it,” San chuckled self-righteously, taking another sip, before letting out a low ‘aaah’. “Someone owes me 20 bucks. Which one of you was it?” He held up an accusative finger to one of the girls nearby, who giggled and held her hands up defensively. “It was you, wasn’t it? Give it up!”
The rest of the group laughed in response, drunkenly leaning into each other, gleeful smiles plastered on their flushed faces.
“San’s pretty lively tonight,” Seonghwa said near you, nudging you gently with his elbow. “It’s almost kind of cute, huh?” Poor man was out of the loop, but he was trying, bless his heart.
“Cute?” you muttered, raising an eyebrow at him. “He’s butt-ass naked at a Christmas party. He’s a grown man wearing boxers with candy canes on it. What on earth is cute about that?”
Seonghwa pursed his lips, side-eyeing you. “I don’t know, I just thought you’d agree with the way you’ve been staring at him all night.“
You almost choked on your spit, bringing a hand up to your hair to smooth it out. “Well, it’s hard to keep my eyes off of him when he’s being an annoying-ass pick-me like that.”
“But you picked…him.”
“I did. Ages ago, Seonghwa,” you corrected him, watching San out of the corner of your eye, unable to believe that he was letting the girl slip a twenty directly into the waistline of his boxers. As soon as you looked down, San’s eyes were on you, his lips turning into a frown, immediately pushing the girl’s hand away when it lingered a bit too long, his eyes filled with bitter determination. “You know what he did to me. He spent all that time getting my hopes up all year long, only to hit me with the ‘i’m bad with commitment’ card before he left the party last year. That’s bullshit and we both know it.”
Seonghwa sighed in defeat, sinking back into his seat, biting at his lip. “I get what you’re saying, Y/N, I really do. It was unbelievably shitty for him to do that to you, but San…I think he really regrets it. All he talks about is you, Y/N.” Seonghwa turned to face you, gently touching your wrist. “He’s always loved you. He just doesn’t know how to verbalize it.”
You started biting at your lip too, simply listening to your friend’s words, wondering if there was any truth to them. It’s not like you were hearing them from San himself. That would be a different story — though you didn’t know if he was even capable of that kind of vulnerability. “I’d like to believe that, Hwa. I just…”
“Oh my god! With tongue? My virgin eyes!” someone gasped loudly at something, covering their eyes, their friends laughing at his dramatic performance.
“At least someone’s getting some,” Mingi chuckled, while eyeing you, currently holding up the same piece of mistletoe you had encountered together earlier, only this time someone else was under it. Someone that made you wish you had never even came up to the cabin in the first place.
“There’s no way…” you whispered to yourself, unable to take your eyes off of San, who was holding that same girl against him, his hands clutching her hips, his tongue halfway into her mouth by the time you got up from the couch and grabbed a water cup from the coffee table, determined to keep your tears inside your body before you stormed out, but you had to answer to your demons first.
“Y/N, he’s just drunk! He’s trying to make you jealous, okay? He’s being an idiot! Y/N, listen–” Seonghwa tried fruitlessly to reason with you, reaching for your wrist, only for it to slip out of his grasp as you made your way up to San and the unsuspecting woman.
Your bitter frozen heart quelled you to toss the water at San, watching it splash onto the side of his reddened face, the shock of it sobering him up almost instantaneously, causing him to pull away from the woman and look at you, the weight of his faulty decisions hitting him square into the chest when he saw the tears in your eyes. “Y/N…I…I didn’t mean….I just…” Tears began to form inside his own eyes. “I just wanted you to see me.”
“I see you, San,” you whispered, your voice cracking underneath the weight of your emotional turmoil. “I’ve seen enough, actually.”
San froze in place, while what felt like cement sink to the bottom of his stomach, unable to get himself to stop you from grabbing a freshly opened bottle of booze from someone’s hands and running out of the cabin.
Seonghwa and your friend tried in vain to reason with you, getting hit with a death glare and a ‘don’t follow me.’ from you. She turned to Seonghwa, whispering ‘do something’, encouraging him to run over to San, grabbing him by the shoulders and temporarily keeping him upright. “San, listen to me.”
San sniffled, his nose sporting a pink hue, as hot tears began to drip down his clammy face, sinking down to his knees, watching as Seonghwa sank down with him. “Seonghwa, I fucked up. I just wanted her to want me. I wanted her to get jealous and take what’s hers. I didn’t know how– a-and her, and Mingi– I just thought maybe if I–”
Seonghwa shook San a bit, his nostrils flaring, his fingers squeezing into his friend’s trembling shoulders. “Get a grip and listen to me!” As soon as San took in a shaky breath and let it out, Seonghwa cleared his throat. “You’re going to put some fucking clothes on, nut up, and go after her. It’s now or never.”
San wiped his eyes, trying to control his breathing. “B-but what do I say, Seonghwa? How can I possibly–”
Seonghwa suddenly pulled him into a hug, clutching the back of his head, feeling San slowly begin to relax against him. “You’re going be honest with her, San. Tell her what you’ve always wanted her to know. The world isn’t going to end after you do. She’ll still be there, and you’ll be safe.”
San clutched Seonghwa’s back, blinking away a few remaining tears. “You promise?”
Seonghwa pulled away, curling his pinky finger around his best friend’s, giving him a firm nod. “Promise.” Seeing the trust inside San’s sparkling eyes, Seonghwa reached up to ruffle his hair, smiling softly. “Oh, and give her that Christmas present you’ve been waiting for her to open.”
A small smile slowly apread across his splotchy face, before he gave Seonghwa a stern nod back, reaching his hand inside the pocket of his coat to feel what had been in there the entire time. It was time. Things weren’t going to end up like last Christmas. It would be different this time. He would make sure of it.
❆ ❆ ❆
With each passing minute, you sank a little further into the abyss of your memories, as well as the freshly fallen layers of snow that surrounded you, splashes of alcohol melting into it whenever you took a lazy swig and dropped the bottle back down at your side. “You dummy…” you mumbled to yourself, sniffling, your warm tears and body doing its best to combat the chilly environment around you.
Once you reached a street lamp, the warm light glowing onto your damp clothes, the memories of last year, that had once been frozen over suddenly flooded into your mind so quickly, you had to lower yourself onto the gravel beneath you, resting your back against the metal of the large buzzing lamp. “Shit…” You brought your wrist to your eyes, smearing a fresh wave of tears into your slightly damp hair, realizing you had been there before, the deja vu hitting you harder than the icy night wind hit your flushed face.
“San, what’s wrong?” You stood next to your boyfriend, watching him simply stare at the Christmas tree in front of him, his hands in his coat pockets.
San clutched onto the present he had spent weeks waiting to be custom-made and even longer just staring at it inside his apartment, wondering if it was enough, if he was enough, for someone like you.
San slowly shook his head, taking his hand out of his pocket to gently grab your wrist, leaning in to ask, “Can we talk?”
“No, we’re not doing this right now,” you told yourself out loud, smacking the side of your head and shaking it back and forth to hopefully send the memory packing, but it persisted, much like the snowfall around you.
“I don’t understand, San, we were fine! We’re okay. Why are you doing this?” you cried, trying and failing to keep San from leaving the cabin, unable to catch the corner of his coat sleeve until you were both under a street lamp, the light blinking occasionally.
San slowly turned around to face you for a moment, shaking his head, keeping his tears at bay. He didn’t know what he was thinking. How would he be enough for someone like you? Poor San simply couldn’t see the beauty he saw in you in his own self. “I just can’t, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I really am.”
“Can’t what? Can you just talk to me, San? I want to understand, San, please, talk to me,” you begged him, your heart sinking further with each step you took towards him as he continued to walk away. You stopped eventually, in the front of his car, your breath caught in your throat. “So that’s it? You’re just going to leave? Just like that?”
San stroked the back of his hair in an unconscious act of self-soathing, tears pricking the corners of his eyes, looking off to the side, before gripping the door handle of his car, as well as the felt box inside his pocket with his other hand, only seeing a blurry version of you by the time he looked back up. How could he explain how afraid he was of you and the love you offered him? How his many walls, like ice, were impenetrable, until you melted them away? It frightened him, so much so that all he could say was, “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” before he got into the car and shut the door.
“You…dummy…” you repeated, this time in a whisper, taking another swig from the bottle and choking down the strong liquor, about to force yourself to down it when you heard what sounded like a set of boots quickly shuffling through the snow.
“Y/N,” San gasped, almost completely out of breath from running through the rough winter terrain, bending forward slightly with his hands on his knees to catch his breath, sending puffs of condensation into the air around you. “I have to – tell you something–”
“Oh, now you have something to say? After all this time? That’s rich,” you scoffed, wobbling a bit as you stood up, trying to put up a front like you had done earlier, though your facade had since melted away, your quivering lips and red, teary eyes on full display. “…Go on, San…”
San finally caught his breath, his heart still hammering away inside his chest, reaching up to his head to stroke his somewhat damp raven hair, trying to swallow the growing lump inside his throat. “Y/N, I…I should’ve said this a long time ago, instead of just leaving you the way I did…”
The longer you stared at him, the longer he felt his walls crumbling around him, figuring that he had no choice but to tell you what had always been lingering on his tongue, buzzing in his heart and mind, and swimming inside his thoughts each night when he was alone. He realized it was worth of risk of having to return to a cold, silent heart, a bitter soul, and even higher walls that he could box himself inside of. To him, you were worth anything.
Your anger slowly subsided at the sight of his serious gaze, his warm coffee-brown eyes studying you like nothing else existed besides you. In fact, nothing did, inside his world, except for you. “San…” you murmured, reaching out to touch his hand, but he already beat you to it, interlacing your cold fingers together.
“I love you, Y/N,” he admitted in the softest, most convicting voice you’ve ever heard from him, slowly pulling out the box he kept inside his coat, opening it to reveal a small gold ring with a jewel shaped like mistletoe, gently sliding it onto your finger when you held your hand out. “I love you so much, baby. So much it terrifies me.”
“Oh, San…” you sighed, breathless, bringing your hand to your chest from being so overwhelmed with emotion. After a moment, you reached for his hand, squeezing it, moving closer to him, his confession and gift warming you up more than a raging, crackling fire ever could. “San–”
“If I had just told you how I felt back then, I wouldn’t have hurt you the way I did.” He squeezed your hand back, his chapped, lower lip quivering. “I wish I could take it all back. It’s all I’ve been able to think about– How I wish I could just turn back time and–”
You silenced San’s words with a gentle kiss, letting go of his hand to wrap your arms around his neck, his arms following suit, closing around your waist. You broke the kiss after a moment to whisper, “I love you too, San. Always have.” You caressed his face, making sure he felt the love pouring out of your words when you promised, “Always will.”
San let out a trapped breath of air, hugging you against him, protectively clutching the back of your head, unable to stop everything he had held inside from spilling out of him all at once.
You simply held him in your arms and stroked the back of his head, not noticing when the light above you had flickered once and went out for a split second, only to shine brighter than it did before, the light warming the exposed skin of your flushed cheeks.
❆ ❆ ❆
San sat on his knees beside the crackling fire, adjusting a piece of firewood, watching the flame catch onto it and travel along the cedar, enjoying the warmth on his skin, eventually turning his head back to admire the sight of you bundled up on the couch with a plush blanket on your lap, your hands clasped around a cup of tea, your eyes admiring your twinkling ring, before you noticed his loving gaze.
“Sannie, come here, love,” you spoke softly, taking one finger off of the cup to beckon him to you, sliding the blanket off and putting the cup down after one more sip.
“Coming, baby.” Eyes sparkling, San inched his way over to you, still on his knees, fitting himself in between yours so that he could wrap his arms around your middle, resting his head against your chest. “Mm, you’re so warm.”
You ran your fingers through his soft, still slightly damp hair, waiting till he looked up at you to caress his cheek, a small sigh leaving your lips. “I’m sorry for what I did to you earlier. I really shouldn’t have reacted like that. It was hypocritical of me.” You ran your fingers gently along his jaw, noticing the way he leaned into your touch.
“No, baby, I’m sorry,” he replied, rubbing his hands up and down your sides, pouting. “I did…that to you in front of everyone…It was really shitty…I just couldn’t think straight after I saw you with Mingi.”
Your face fell, your fingers sliding back into San’s hair to play with it. “I’m so sorry. It wasn’t…I want you to know that there was no meaning behind it, love. I was just bitter. And drunk.”
“I know, Y/N. It’s all forgiven, I promise you.” San reassured softly, responding well to your light touches, nuzzling your hand when it came back to his cheek, his fingers sliding underneath your sweater to squeeze into your sides, sending a light shiver up your spine. “But, you know what, baby?”
“What, Sannie?” Your body temperature started to increase as San brought himself up higher so that you were face to face, body to body, his palms settling onto your bare back.
“There’s meaning behind this,” he whispered, bringing his hands up to cup your face, before gently pressing his lips onto yours. You shared a few firm, passionate kisses, your lips moving against one another’s, hearing San whisper something else that sent a wave straight into your core. “Can you feel it, baby? My love?”
“Yeah, show me more, Sannie,” you murmured against his lips, his mouth slotting back onto yours, almost making you forget to breathe when his tongue began to explore the inside of your mouth.
San sucked lightly on your tongue, before moving down to kiss on your neck, his hands moving further up to unclasp your bra from underneath your sweater. “Can I please touch you, baby?” he asked with a desperation that made his deep voice go up an octave higher.
“Yes, please, touch me,” you responded with just as much desperation, arching your back into his touch when he slipped his hands up the front of your sweater, moving your tits in slow, gentle circles, his lips and teeth attacking your neck and collarbone.
“You feel so good in my hands, baby, fuck, I missed you so much,” San exhaled into your neck, squeezing the roundness of your tits in between his fingers, squishing them together, and lifting them up, only to drop them back down into his palms, groaning all the while. He pulled back slightly, rolling the hem of your sweater up a bit, his hooded, dilated eyes focused solely on yours. “Can I take this off?”
A quick nod was all it took for him to lift your sweater up over your head, your bra falling to the floor. Not wanting you to be alone, he reached behind his head and pulled his own sweater off, his sculpted, muscular upper body bathed in warm, orange light from the fire blazing away behind him. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N…” he sighed, admiring your body like he did the very first time he saw you bare in front of him.
“So are you,” you replied, slowly running your hands up along his abdomen and back down, his muscles flexing slightly underneath your touch, his eyes following your fingers as they unbuckled his belt, pulling his pants down to reveal his cute custom briefs. “My Sannie, so precious.”
San blushed, his goofy smile slowly disappearing as he unbuttoned your pants, biting hard into his bottom lip once he got them off of you. “Baby…” Unable to just sit there and admire you, he reached forward to cup your tits, running his thumbs back and forth over your stiff nipples, lust clearly running rampant in his head and body by the way he was looking at you with such clear hunger in his eyes, his cock hard and stiff against your core. “Can I taste you?”
“Baby, you don’t have to ask, okay? You can have me, in any way–” you started breathily, feeling San’s cock beginning to pulse against you. “–Every way, Sannie. Please, take care of me.”
San suddenly clutched your hips, slowly grinding his clothed cock into your heat, while his mouth closed around one of your nipples to suck on it, his hooded eyes looking up into yours, his tongue darting out to lap at your tit.
“Feels so good, your mouth on me,” you breathed out, running your fingers through his hair, clutching it tight when he swapped your tit for the other, his jaw lowering so that he could fit more of your squishy globe into his mouth, sucking on it desperately. “Sannie…please…”
Knowing what you wanted, San pulled back to spit onto your tits, watching it drip down, before leaning back in to lick it up, his tongue cascading up and down your now slick skin, still guiding your hips against him, your legs already hooked around his slim waist. Your whiny moans were like music to his ears, taking a break from sucking and licking you to say, “You like it messy, don’t you, baby girl? Makes you so wet for me, doesn’t it?”
“Uh-huh, now come here,” you could barely get out, before you grabbed his face and slammed your lips against his, your mouths and tongues working in tandem, strands of spit dripping down your chins, San’s hands squeezing tightly into your hips, grinding against you so quick, so desperately, you were both about to reach your highs just from that.
“Sannie,” you sighed against his lips, caressing his jaw, his cock rubbing against your cunt in just the right way, your body pulsing with the need to be filled.
“Y/N,” he sighed back, pressing his forehead onto yours, the both of you breathing in the same air, the thick, throbbing length of his cock rubbing deliciously along your clothed slit until your lower halves began to jolt, your moans and gasps crescendoing in unison. “Cumming? Are you cumming for me, baby?”
“Y–esss, Sannie, m’ cumming for you,” you cried out, holding onto him as tightly as you could, your nails digging lightly into his back, feeling his muscles contracting. “Cum for me too, please, baby, let me see you.”
San let out a choked, whiny moan, panting heavily, losing his quick, focused thrusts, opting for sloppy, abrupt movements, barely about to get out the word, “B–abyyy…”
You both fell apart in each other’s arms, your eyes never breaking contact, your combined arousal soaking through your respective undergarments.
Once you both caught your breath, San reached down to rub your pussy with two thick fingers, able to see your slit through your shiny, see-through panties, his cum-covered cock already twitching back to life. “Fuck, baby, look at that…you’re completely soaked.”
“Just for you,” you nodded, spreading your thighs open further, pulling the hem of your panties up a bit to emphasize your puffy cunt, your clit pressing into the soft cloth material.
“Oh my god, baby, I need to taste you,” San suddenly whined, squeezing his fingers into the softness of your thighs, lowering himself down to take a deep inhale of your arousal, his head going completely fuzzy, unable to keep himself from drooling onto your cunt.
You slipped your fingers into his soft hair, bringing his face against your heat, sighing at the feeling of his nose bumping against your clit as he took another deep breath, shuddering when he began to tongue your cunt through your panties. “That’s it, Sannie, feels so good,” you moaned, your praise going straight to San’s cock, causing it to strain against his stained briefs.
“Mmmn,” San moaned against your pussy, licking one slow, long strip up your slit to your clit, filled with so much need for you that he couldn’t keep himself from tearing your panties off of you with one quick tug, making you gasp and release more slick, his mouth already on you to lap it right up, his other hand shoving his briefs down so that his cock could spring out against his abdomen, pre-cum smearing across his tan skin. “This pussy is all mine, baby, mine to eat, mine to fuck, mine to fill, huh?”
“Yes, Sannie, all yours, it’s all yours,” you answered, clutching his hair, desperately grinding your cunt against his tongue when he held it out, looking deep into his eyes that never left yours for a second, suddenly gasping out when San spread your hole open, sending a wad of spit inside before his agile tongue slipped inside of you.
San grabbed the undersides of your thighs and lifted your lower half up so that he could tongue fuck you as deep as humanly possible, letting out a pleased moan each time his tongue entered your soaked, pusling hole. He kept going until you saw stars, going ‘uh-huhhh, uh-huhhh’ as soon as you began to shudder, your arousal squirting out and soaking his flushed face.
“My pretty baby came so hard for me,” San sighed, licking your wetness up from your sensitive cunt and his lips, before he brought you in for another sloppy kiss, letting you taste yourself.
The longer you kissed, the more you wanted him inside you, needed him to fuck his love into you until you couldn’t remember your own name. You needed him so badly, you didnt even realize what you were doing until you had found yourself pushing San down onto the fur carpet below and straddling him, sitting on his lap in a way that showed the both of you exactly where his long, veiny cock would reach inside of you once he filled you up. “Need you, Sannie. Need you now.”
“You can have me, baby.” San’s cock twitched against your abdomen, his hands rubbing your thighs, eventually lifting you up and down onto his cock, groaning at the feeling of your pussy swallowing his length inch by inch. “Fuck, princess, have all of me.”
Instinctively, San began to buck his hips up into you, filling you up so well, you felt a bit dizzy, encouraging you to hold onto his chest, still taking his cock deep inside your cunt like you were made for him.
San must’ve agreed too because he couldn’t keep from groaning out, “Look at you, babygirl, look at the way you’re taking me, taking my cock so deep–” He pressed one hand to your abdomen, feeling the bulge his cock made each time he fucked into you, driving the both of you crazy. “Your pretty pussy was made for me, baby. Made just for me. You’re mine, babygirl.”
“Yours.” You quickly lowered yourself down to kiss him, his hands sliding up and down along your body to feel your warm skin underneath his touch, eventually settling his hands on your cheeks, wiping a few of your tears away when you began to cry from the overwhelming pleasure.
“Cum for me, Y/N…You can do it…Fall apart for me, baby, ” San encouraged in between heavy breaths, slowing the movements of his hips down, instead filling you up in a slow and meticulous manner, drawing your intense orgasm out of you. “Yes, baby, that’s it, that’s it…”
“Sannnn, oh my god, San.” The longer you fell apart, the tighter your pussy constricted around San’s cock, causing him to throw his head back, sweat dripping down along his straining neck, his veins popping out of his hands when he gripped your thighs. “Fill me up, Sannie. Need your cum inside.”
“Cumminggg, princess, oh my god, baby girl,” San groaned heavily, lifting you up and down on his throbbing length, before fully sheathing himself inside you, coating your walls with white.
Panting, you both gazed at each other’s sweat-covered faces and bodies, knowing internally that it wasn’t enough. Not nearly.
“Again?”
“Again.”
San didn’t waste any time gently pulling you off of him and climbing on top of you instead, spreading you open and filling you back up, sighing at the sight of your mixed arousal forming a ring around the base of his cock each time he pounded himself into you. “You’re so full of my cum, baby…so full of my cock, aren’t you, pretty girl?”
“So full for you, Sannie, don’t stop,” you gasped, hardly able to breathe with the way he had you folded up, your legs over his shoulders, his cock slamming so deep inside you that you swore he was hitting your womb.
“Wasn’t gonna,” San exhaled, chuckling softly, his lips curling up to give you a smile, his eyes creasing with amusement. “Not until I fill you up again.”
“That’s my boy,” you replied, smiling back at him, giggling at the sight of his eyes lighting up, before you pressed a kiss to his lips.
The wet, sloppy sound of your bodies joining together over and over filled up the otherwise quiet cabin, along with your harmonious moans, the warm fire crackling away beside you. Time seemed to stop completely. It was just you and him, coming undone together for what seemed like a lifetime.
You both ended up back on the couch, your limbs and bodies entangled, snuggling together underneath the warm blanket, talking with each other about anything and everything until your eyelids grew heavy, leading you to drift off, your fingers clasped together.
Before you could fully fall asleep, you nuzzled your cheek against San’s chest, gently inhaling his comforting scent. He smelled like aftershave, warm cedar wood, and cinnamon. It reminded you of your time there at the cabin, the memories you spent together, both good and bad, swirling together to form a comfortingly bittersweet concoction, one that you would consume in every lifetime.
“San,” you whispered softly into the darkness, the fire beside the both of you now ashes and smoke.
“Yes, Y/N?” he whispered back, his arms closing around you protectively.
You sighed against his skin, your body and heart melting like the snow would begin to do as well, once the sun came up. “I love you so much, San…” You lifted your head up, hovering above him so that you could look down at him, your fingers clutching his jaw, your expression so soft San thought you might cry. “I want to show you how to share some of that love with yourself one day.”
San smiled up at you, his eyes full of so much adoration for you, it threatened to spill out of him, his fingers running through your hair. “You showed me, Y/N. Through it all, behind every word, every action, I still saw it there. That’s why I put myself first and confessed to you.” He smiled softly, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “I’m…not nearly as put together as I seem. I just love you so much, it makes me want to be strong. For you. And…for me.”
You didn’t realize you were crying too until you saw your teardrops land on his face and slide down his cheek, wondering if your icy heart had finally melted, and that was why there were so many tears escaping from your blurry eyes. “Oh, San, my sweet San, I’ll be here to watch you grow, I promise,” you murmured, hugging onto him and laying back down to rest your head on his chest, gently rolling the ring around your finger.
San’s hand came up from underneath the blanket to rest on top of yours. He squeezed your hand and you squeezed right back. “Promise?”
“Promise,” you repeated softly, closing your eyes, your heart at peace. “As long as you promise to watch me too.”
San closed his eyes too, a few more happy tears dripping past his cheeks, his protective walls completely melted away much like the snowfall outside would be once the sun came out the following morning, squeezing you just a little tighter than before. San felt warm. Safe. “I’d love nothing more, Y/N.”
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© kitten4sannie, 2023.
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draiys · 2 months
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cardig☆n
you drew stars around my scars
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but now i'm bleeding...
luke castellan x child of athena!fem!reader
genre fluff / angst
warnings spoilers ig, but i kinda went off canon bc i haven't read it in a while (and bc i couldnt bring myself to write it) im sryyy, crying, mentions of being burned (but its not literal), my attempt at angst, kissing, mentions of not being able to breathe (but theres no like choking or anything), open-ended(-ish?) ending
wc 1k
a/n requested here ! i hope u like it :')
my requests are open !
☆☆☆
You used to think you knew everything. 
Sure, it sounds a little conceited, but it’s who you’ve been told you are.
Y/N has a plan. Y/N will know what to do. She always does.
No one ever thought to tell you that it was okay if you weren’t always exactly sure of everything.
And so, you’d risen to it. Always knowing, expecting, deciding. Everything.
But now, as Luke stands in the sand in front of you, rain washing into his curls, you’re not sure you’ve ever known anything.
“They don’t care about us.” He hisses. “Don’t you see that?”
His boot presses forward as he steps closer to you, his calloused hand reaching towards your cheek.
You pause for a moment, as if you’ll let him touch you, and you almost do, but step back quickly after as if his hand is a fire you’ve only just remembered will burn skin instead of a beautiful, twisting, orange arc.
“Y/N,” he whispers, but you’ve stepped back into another place, another time. A memory.
Of the only other time you’ve felt like you don’t know anything, calloused hands that reach for you, and a raspy voice whispering your name.
Luke.
You’re curled into the wall against your bunk, knees pulled up into your chest, tears tracing down your face.
And he’s smiling softly, his hand held out. 
“That is your name, right?”
At your nod, his smile widens.
You decide you like his smile, the way it pushes up his eyes into crescents, and so you take his hand.
He gently tugs you up and out of bed.
“I know it’s hard, but I promise it will be okay.”
You’ve heard that about a thousand times since you’ve arrived at camp, but you think this is the only time you’ve heard it that you’ve believed it even a little.
His fingers rub against your palm, and his hand is warm, and you look into his eyes. They’re warm and glowy and comforting, and you think maybe you’ll manage being in this camp, if he’s here.
Now, his eyes are the coldest you’ve ever seen, and a frown pulls the corners of his mouth down. 
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and you realize you’ve never felt scared of Luke until now.
He shakes his head slightly, and it’s Luke, shaking his head, grinning as Athena’s owl glows above your head. 
“I should’ve known you were too smart for us.”
You scoff, going to push at his shoulder, but he grabs your waist and you fall into his hug. You inhale, his cologne winding around you, and he lowers his head to whisper into your ear.
“I’m gonna miss you.”
You pause, arms moving tentatively to hug him back, chin pushing further into his shoulder.
A wave of emotion hits the inside of your gut, pulling your breath tight.
“Luke,” you breathe, and he pulls his head back to look at you. You can’t say anything, but he understands what you mean by his name.
I’ll miss you more. Please don’t leave me. I need you.
“It’s okay,” he promises, and he tucks your hair behind your ear, wiping a tear from your under eye, and you realize you’re crying.
He leans forward, and his gaze drifts to your lips, and yours drift to his, and suddenly they’ve connected, you’re not sure when that happened, but you pull him impossibly closer. You ignore the screams of the campers around you as you realize you’re kissing him. Luke, who took you and put you behind his back on the first day of camp, who’s listened to all your worries and sobs and laughs for a month that seems like years.
And you finally pull away, the need for oxygen coming up in your lungs, squeezing them because you can’t breathe, can’t think, you don’t know anything, who is he?
Luke frowns harshly, angrily, and you almost trip backwards trying to get away from him.
“I’m sorry,” you say again. But you’re not sure if you’re saying it to him or to yourself. You don’t know who he is anymore. Because this surely can’t be him, not Luke who kissed you and held you while you cried, who taught you to use a sword, patiently steadying your grip, who was the only person that told you it was okay if you didn’t have a plan.
“Luke,” you whisper, and he creeps closer, and you forget about the fire, and you let his lips burn into you.
☆☆☆
It’s been a month since Luke left, and you’ve never felt emptier, even before you met him. You’d been holding tightly onto the pieces of your heart, until he’d come and told you he would keep them safe for you. But now he’s left with all of them, and you’re even emptier than you were before. 
You’re a wreck, skipping meals and staying in bed instead of going to trainings.
You stare out the cabin window, at the starry night you and Luke used to sneak out to go lie underneath together.
There’s a knock at the door, and you stay unmoving, glancing at the clock. Whoever’s got a question for an Athena kid at 2am can come back in the morning. But then there’s a sound that makes you freeze. A short knock, and then a louder, longer, one. Like a heartbeat. Bu-bum. Bu-bum. Your special knock, with him.
You’re not sure what compels you to get out of bed, pulling your sheets aside lazily, because it must be the worst idea you’ve had in a while. But you twist open the door, heart thumping like the knock as your breath catches over your throat.
The porch light shines down over the dark figure, face hard to see, but of course you’d recognize him anywhere.
“Luke,” you whisper.
All the coldness that lingered in his eyes is gone now, the familiar warmth taking them over again.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice shaking. “I’m so sorry,” he says again, and you wonder if maybe the fire has gone out, and you pull him into a tight hug as he burns you.
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omeganronpa · 3 months
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I Could Be A Concubine -Omega!Shikamaru Nara
A/N: Merry Christmas. Don't ever say I didn't give y'all anything. This is the sequel to I Burnt Bridges For You, Not For Concubines.
Warnings: attempted murder, poisoning, Nara Obsessions, Nara Bullshit, violence mentions, NSFW, bad writing, im sorry, blood mention, I know I'm missing warnings
Word Count: 20,151 - yes yes i know its long it took me so long
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The dark, dense Nara forest parts slowly the further you go into Nara territory. You hadn’t been able to pull yourself away from the window since your company reached the border, fascinated by the incredibly different terrain that is the Nara Kingdom. The tall trees, thick bushes, and clear air are markedly unlike the unyielding stone, frozen temperatures, and smoke that form your own kingdom and you are enraptured by the beauty of it. 
To anyone else, the treeline would have been intimidating. Nothing could be seen past the first few rows of trees and growth, a foreboding darkness and eerie silence shrouding unknown danger and warding off even the bravest of travelers from entering. 
To you though, it was the beginning of a new adventure. An ease spread through your chest as you eagerly watched the distance close between you and trees. Your guardian had long given up trying to pull you away, deciding the extra history lesson wasn’t worth the fight to keep your focus. Your current nanny tried to disagree, insistent that you were already so far behind your lessons, but she was silenced with a look. 
A small blessing for your exhausted brain.  
The forest canopy keeps the sun’s light from touching the ground but despite the darkness, you can make out the dense undergrowth of the forest floor, decorated with lush greenery and lovely flowers. Thick roots protrude from the ground, weaving and twisting around each other. The only break in the ground is an almost unnoticeable indent marking the edge of the path. If you hadn't been looking so closely, you would have missed it entirely. 
Only Naras know the ever-changing paths to the inner kingdom by intent and design. The Nara, in allegiance with the Yamanaka and the Akimichi, hold secrets unimaginable to those outside the Western Realm and the territories they rule over. The forest acts as their first line of defense, the density and darkness preventing enemies from getting too close too quickly. 
Those that attempt to enter without a Nara guide lose themselves before losing their life. Many armies have failed in their attempts to gain the upper hand in conflict using the forest, underestimating how difficult it is to navigate and control. The ground breathes and takes the air from the lungs of those it does not want around. It moves and undulates and drags people below to reclaim wasted energy and repurpose it to bringing new life to the undergrowth. 
It consumes as it lives. 
 As such, a Nara guide from the palace is dispatched every time permission is granted to enter the kingdom. 
Your Nara guide is a strict looking woman with a long single center braid starting from the front of her hair line and ending at her waist. The sides of her head are shaved, antler-like barbs tattooed on the bare skin. There is a scar across her throat, deep as it curves and disappears under her collar. Her eyes are golden-yellow, like the center of a fire. You hope you get a free moment out from under your guardian’s gaze to tell her that you think she is beautiful. 
It takes what feels like hours before the forest starts to thin but when the first rays of sunlight filter through, they do slowly and softly, gently illuminating your surroundings to your curious eyes. When the forms of wild deer appear, your nanny reprimands you for shaking the carriage in your excitement with a swap from her fan. The action isn’t intended to sting as much as it is to make you feel small and her scowl deepens when it does little to affect your mood. 
You don’t care about the dirty look. A killjoy Beta woman your guardian hired to make sure you were watched when you weren’t with them, she charged and demanded more than she was worth and you didn’t care much for her, her opinion, or her ugly fan. She knew it too and made sure to tell anyone who would listen about your impudence and disrespect.
Your guardian clears their throat, pulling your attention away from where the trees glittered in the sprinkling of light, “Remember your manners Y/N. The Naras are an esteemed and well-established noble family and offer us a great deal of resources that we are currently lacking. You are the heir to the throne. You would do well to remember your lessons.” The coldness in their eyes is unwavering, the disgust twitching along their upper lip ever-present. 
“Yes,” you nod solemnly, shrinking the tiniest bit under their stern glare. Their eyes narrow even further. 
Anxiety spikes through your chest as you realize your mistake. It's not very Alpha of you to cower. Correction will be given. The backs of your hands and legs throb.
You turn away, curling your body as close to the side of the carriage as possible. 
The room is dark when you awaken, the curtains drawn tight to keep the sun’s harsh direct light from touching your bed. There is a weight behind your eyelids, making it difficult to keep your eyes open. Sensation is lost to your body, limbs aching in their numbness. 
‘Wha…’ is all you manage before the pulsing in your head starts. The throbbing is intense, waves of agonizing pain dancing around the back of your skull and behind your eyes. Almost as if given the signal, parts of the rest of your body start cramping and pulling. Pins and needles and unpleasant tingles. It punches the air from your lungs and with a good deal of struggle, you manage to roll to your side. 
A quick peek at the side table reveals a pitcher of water and a glass half filled. Slowly and painfully, you reach over and grab it, wincing at the stretch of your arm. Your fingers struggle to get around the glass and lift it but you manage. The water is cool as it goes down, a balm on your throat. When the glass is empty, you place it back on the table and sit up slowly, taking pause when the movement turns blinding.
“Where am I?” you wonder when your vision stops fading to black, throat cracking from disuse as you look around at the room. It's smartly furnished with dark woods, a neutral earthy color palette, and various nature-inspired decor. Curiously, there is a pile of deer antlers in one of the corners of the room, cleaned but otherwise untouched. The bed you lay in is lush and conforming, the pillows beneath your head stuffed to the brim with feathers, and the blankets artfully and professionally crafted for maximum warmth and comfort. You don’t think you remember ever having such a comfortable bed. 
‘This isn’t my kingdom,’ you think groggily, eyes squinting in a poor attempt to make out the insignia on the door. It's a vastly different one than your own. Joy sparks dully in the back of your brain at the notion of no longer being trapped in the mountains, of never seeing your guardian’s face again. You dreamed of leaving that horrid place for years. ‘This isn’t my bedroom.’
A wild thought wanders to the forefront. ‘Is…is this my body?’ 
It's a silly thought but the fear that floods through you at the idea has you taking a peek at what lies under your shirt and pants. Finding everything as it should be, you breathe a sigh of relief. Your body may feel like it's been turned inside out but it is yours. 
Still, all things considered, it doesn’t answer the question at hand.
Where are you? 
If you aren’t in the mountains, then you are somewhere else. The sides of your temple throb at the attempt to form a more complex thought sequence.
‘Only one way to find out,’ you think, taking a deep breath.
Getting out of bed is a hassle when your arms and legs tingle painfully from disuse. The world shifts in and out of blackness for a few moments, stance wobbly. It takes several long moments before it stops but everything is still blurry. A spasm of electricity crawls up your spine, forcing you forward to face-plant into the bedding. There is a tightness in all your limbs as it shakes through you. 
There is a tugging in your chest suddenly, an urge to move forward. Tendrils of urgency trickle through your veins, prompting you to push through the pain and leave the room. Shadows of memory linger just outside of your reach but there is enough for you to grasp that you need to go somewhere. You need to be somewhere. There is something - or someone - waiting for you.
The door is heavier than it looks - or maybe you are just weaker than normal? - and by the time you get it open enough to slip through, you are short of breath and panting harshly. Thankfully, there is no one outside the room.
Peering down both sides of the hallway, your brow furrows, ‘Actually…’
It's pretty odd for there not to be at least one guard posted at your bedchamber door. 
“Maybe I’m no longer a royal?” you whisper aloud but it strikes you as wrong as soon as it passes your lips. Why were you in a very clearly marked royal bedroom if you weren’t a royal? A servant would be in a servant’s residence - either inside the castle or in town - and it wouldn’t be nearly as big as the room you woke up in. 
‘I could be a concubine,’ you think with the slightest bit of mortification. It would make sense though. If you were a favorite, you’d be granted more luxury than other concubines. If you were acting as a stud, you’d be granted access to the royal bedchambers for ease of access. Both options would explain the fancy bedroom.  It would also explain why you were left alone while suffering under what you could only assume was the aftereffects of an illness. Royals, nobles, and the like loved to keep their treasures close. ‘Do I suck cock for freedom?’ 
‘No,’ you point at yourself, eyes narrowed at your own finger, ‘Fool. You’d remember becoming a stud and you would gain nothing but a new prison if you had. Be quiet. You don’t suck cock for freedom.’
‘No, you suck it for fun,’ a smarmy voice echoes from somewhere deep in your brain and it makes your face warm in aggravation and embarrassment. 
‘You be quiet too. I’ve never sucked a cock in my life.’ 
The voice retreats with a snicker and part of you wants to chase after it in your brain and curse at it until your tongue is sore but the bigger, more reasonable, less insane part of you lets it go. 
Deciding that focusing on the reason behind the lack of people in front of your door is getting you nowhere, you carry on. Slipping the door closed as gently as possible, you look down the hallway in both directions once more. 
It is eerie. The hair prickles along the back of your neck and along your arms, a sense of foreboding pooling in your stomach. 
All of the windows in both directions were covered with thick curtains and the adjacent wall is covered in various portraits of presumed dead people and more of the same decor from the bedroom. The insignia of the royal family is embroidered many times on the long runner rug that reaches from one end to the other. The only light visible is on the floor beneath the windows where the curtains couldn’t stop it from bleeding in, much like it had been in the bedchamber, casting everything in a haunting glow. The only door is the one that led into the bedchamber. 
It's incredibly silent, eerily so. All you can hear is the sound of your own breathing as you wobble down the corridor, keeping a hand on the wall for balance. The edges of your vision are still bleary, the darkness darting in and out as you sluggishly turn a corner. 
The new hallway is longer than the one you just left but with less windows. and the walls were marked with seemingly endless dark doors. You don’t know where any of them lead but figure the big door, nearly encompassing the entirety of the wall and decorated with fresh flowers and greenery, will take you somewhere important. Maybe then you can get some answers. 
The world spins under your feets as you limp towards it with no small amount of determination. You regret leaving the bed. Part of you hopes it's the door to the library because libraries often have nice comfy chairs that one may sit down to rest in. 
A knot of anxiety twists low in your ribcage, pushing you forward at the idea. A chill dances along the edges of your skin as you open the fancy, decorated door. 
The sudden onslaught of light from the sun tells you that it was not, in fact, the door to the library. The brightness is painful and you collapse to the ground slowly but all at once. Nausea rips through you as your eyes work to adjust to the sudden exposure of stimulation. A gag settles into your throat but you are too stubborn to allow the vomit working its way up to escape. It goes back down with some resistance, your chest burning with the bile, but it's much better than puking all over a stranger’s rug.
Your eyes start to cross however, so you close them and focus on your breathing. The air is crisp, clean, and perfumed with a variety of different scents that all fight for attention in your nose. Aside from the gentle rustling of water from a fountain and the small chirping of birds, it's quiet outside. 
A different quiet though, than the oppressive and consuming silence from inside the castle. A quiet that feels tranquil rather than terrifying. You can’t hear anyone aside from yourself but it doesn’t spark the same sort of unease as it did before. The quiet inside is a dead stillness. The quiet outside is a gentle life. 
The contrast is stark. 
When the pain fades, you lift yourself back up to your feet and take in the view.
‘Yeah, I’m definitely not in the mountains.’ 
You feel giddy. The sun is high in the sky, casting light across the large expanse of land. On one side, there is a large garden sectioned off with thin but sturdy black gates. On the other side beyond the stone pathways that led to the castle, there is a meadow that spans several rolling hills. The entire meadow is tall grasses and dainty wildflowers flowers, perfect for frolicking and relaxing in. It splits the treeline in the horizon, creating a defined path to who knows where in who knows which direction.
If you squint, you can see the figures of several deer grazing by the trees along the split. 
Taking a deep inhale, you allow all the scents of nature to filter gently into your system. There is no smoke. No sulfur. No salt. Your lungs feel clear. Your skin feels clean. 
The nagging tugging in your chest appears again, pulling you further outside. You shut the door behind you gently and slowly, you wander down the beige stone steps.
You keep your hands on the thin black railing for support, and without thinking, turn towards the gates that section off the garden. The gate is partially open, allowing you to slip through without a fuss. There are several abandoned woven baskets besides several patches of harvestable vegetables, seemingly left in a hurry. Several of the new, unused beds have been disrupted, soil spilling across the stone walkways between them as if trampled on. 
Disturbed, you walk further in, past the fruit trees and the large deer statue arrangement and the lovely fountain waterfall, following the niggling feeling telling you to keep going. 
The feeling dissipates when you find yourself at the entrance of an alcove in the middle of a large hedge wall, decorated by a netted curtain of strung wildflowers. Pushing them to the side, your feet take you through. Inside, you can see the top of the hedges have been trained and grown to form an arch, providing shelter from the sun and casting everything in shadow. There is just enough sunlight to keep from stumbling in the dark but it's clear that this was meant to be some sort of hiding place. 
The alcove doesn’t lead very far so it doesn’t take long before you find yourself in the center of the secluded area. What you see makes you pause. Held up by a few thick trees is a hammock. A small pillow and a throw blanket rest inside it, both obviously used and used often. A familiar smell wafts from it, a scent that feels familiar deep in your bones but, much like everything else, you are unable to place it.
Still, it lulls you to relaxation just the same, pulling at your already weakened and sore body. 
The stone path disappears at the edge leading into the center and is replaced by patches of cushy moss and soft soil and the same wildflowers as the ones you saw in the fields. The flowers don’t stand as tall as they do in the fields but they are undoubtedly just as beautiful. There is no rhyme or reason to their placement, as if whoever created this space took a handful of seeds and threw them randomly across the area and let it be. 
A warm giddiness spreads from the center of your chest as you stare at the flowers, a smile forming on your mouth without reason. Carefully, you walk through the flowers and moss to settle against one of the trees. The hammock is very inviting - cushioned and soft and obviously very well-made - but there was a pointed disinterest in it that resonates within you. Instead, you walk around the trees and settle against one of them, the moss growing on it in the shadows soft and fluffy against your back and head.
There is no more tugging. No more urge to wander. No more need to keep going. You may rest here and be patient. Rest and wait. 
“I’ll wait here,” you whisper, closing your eyes, “It's safe here.”
^^^^^^^^^^
King Shikaku and Queen Yoshino are waiting at the entrance of the castle when the carriage stops. An attendant opens the door and holds it open for you, your nanny, and your guardian. Your guardian slips out first. You follow them out quickly, hurriedly adjusting the ill-fitted clothes you were put into. Your nanny slips out from behind you, shoving you not so subtly forward as your guardian climbs the stairs and greets the other royals.
King Shikaku is as intimidating as he’s rumored to be, standing tall and confident. His shoulders are broad and his legs are strong from years of training and battle. Two deep scars cross his face, given to him during the last major war, and it only makes him much more intimidating. He’s dressed in dark green and gold, his crown made of golden branches twisting around his skull. There are no jewels encrusted anywhere on it but you can faintly make out a small little ‘Y’ on the sides of the two main branches that act as the support for the rest of the crown. 
Yoshino Nara is dressed similarly to her husband in dark green and gold and you marvel at how pretty she is. Her gown is long and soft-looking and her crown matches her husbands, though it was obviously crafted to appear softer and the metal was handled with a lot more care. There are little metal flowers added between her branches as they wound around her head. Her eyes are large and kind as she watches you approach behind your guardian, her red-tinted mouth pulled into a gentle smile. You feel shy.
When you catch up to the adults, you bow. The queen coos something softly that you can’t quite make out but it causes her husband to chuckle fondly. When you rise, your eyes catch sight of a child leaning behind Queen Yoshino. His brown eyes scan over you, his boredom and annoyance reflective across his face. He’s the spitting image of King Shikaku, right down to the tip of his nose. His hair was pulled back and up into a ponytail and he wore high-quality dark green clothing that matched his parents with a large embroidered insignia on the lapel that reflected his status.
It was obvious he was uncomfortable in the clothing, his fingers plucking at the collar and sleeves in irritation.
“This is my ward Y/N, heir to our kingdom,” you hear yourself being introduced and you quickly bow again, avoiding their eyes. Disapproval radiates from your guardian at the submission but you doubt anything will come from it. It's better to be overly polite than a fraction rude when it comes to forming alliances with kingdoms more connected than your own, after all. 
“This is our son, Shikamaru,” Yoshino introduces to your entourage, gently guiding him out from behind her gown and nudging him towards you directly. It is clear that she has no interest in having him interact with the adults. He resists, pulling a face at his mother, but she is insistent. 
Your guardian nods to him but otherwise completely disregards his existence in the same manner they disregard yours when they don’t need you for anything. It makes your skin prickle unpleasantly.
When the formal greetings are finished, everyone is led inside to the Great Hall. You don’t get a chance to look around and marvel at it before your guardian informs you that they will be adjourning to a separate room with the King and Queen and you are to stay behind with the Prince. 
“Remember our talk,” they whisper in warning before allowing an attendant to lead them away. 
When you open your eyes again, it is with more clarity and awareness. The sky is dark and cloudy, the air thick with the smell of petrichor. 
Stretching, you rub at your eyes and blink in confusion as you realize where you are.
“How did I get here?” you whisper to yourself, looking around the alcove. As if summoned by the question, the memory of earlier filters through your mind. Waking up in your bed alone, stumbling down the hallway in search of something that lingered just along the outskirts of your thoughts but stayed just out of reach, the anxious feeling of needing to get away, marveling at the beauty of the kingdom around you, collapsing in exhaustion in the special place your mate set up for you both. 
“Oh.” 
Looking around surreptitiously despite no one being in the alcove, you stand up and dust yourself off, embarrassment making your neck hot. It had been so long since you last ‘slept-walked’ that you had hoped that you had officially grown out of it. 
The thought made you snort. ‘Grown out of it.’ Right. If only you were afforded that luxury. 
And did it even count as sleepwalking? While you hadn’t the faintest idea of where you were or why you were there, you do know that you knew for certain you were awake at the time. 
You don’t get a chance to ponder it further, thoughts broken by the sounds of an earth shattering scream coming from the direction of the castle. It is quickly followed by what you can only describe as an Omegan wail- a haunting, high pitched, guttural dying sound that rattles your bones and sets your teeth on edge. It makes you lean into the tree for support, bent over as the nausea from before returns with a vengeance. 
More memories start filtering in rapidly as you struggle not to gag against the tree, the wail petering off like fog in the wind. Your head throbs as the last however many weeks start reassembling themselves inside your mind. Lord John and his Omega entourage. The investigation into his involvement in the incident on the outskirts of the Uchiha kingdom. The confrontation in the Great Hall. Feeling fuzzy and blacking out. 
When the nausea passes, you make your way out of the alcove and cut through the messy garden back to the castle, keeping your pace quick but your steps silent. You catch a whiff of a sour scent, sick and feeble, that burns your nostrils entwined with the scent you know unequivocally as your mates and you turn on your heel to follow it. Remarkably you don’t pass anyone on your way.
‘Where are all the guards? The servants?’ you wonder, alarm bells ringing in your head, ‘What is going on? Where is Shikamaru?’
The scent leads you back to your bedchamber. You can feel the blood start rushing through your body, all other thoughts fleeing from your brain. Noises from inside make you pause, hand hovering over the doorway. 
“Where is my mate!?” you hear Shikamaru wail, the sound immediately followed by the sound of something heavy and made of glass breaking. Probably a vase. Without a moment of consideration, you remove your hand from the door and take several steps away from the door to hide behind the wall to the adjacent hallway. 
Cowardly? Yes.
Smart? Also yes.
In the entire year of you being his mate, Shikamaru hadn’t gotten to a state that prompted him to fling furniture but there were a few close calls that had him leaping over random objects to do…whatever weird thing his instincts were telling him to do. 
There is another loud crash and you wince, knowing how insufferable he’s going to be once he’s calm and realizes he’s going to have to double up his desensitization training time in the coming months. You love him, desperately, but he’s going to use every trick in his arsenal to avoid doing it and it's more than likely going to fall on you to get him to agree to it. 
The door to your bedchamber opens suddenly. One of the medical assistants slips out quickly, backing into the wall opposite the door. You watch them shake for a moment, their face pale and terrified, before fleeing down the hallway away from you, fear clogging up their scent as it scatters in a haphazard trail behind them. 
Faintly, you can hear three other voices, two of which are mostly muffled even with the door cracked open. You can’t make out much of what they are saying but you would bet an entire gold bar that they are likely trying to soothe the distraught Omega. The third voice is louder and very familiar but you can’t quite place it. It's too smooth to be Shikaku’s...
“What have you done with my Y/N!? Where did you take them?,” you hear your mate growl again, the sentence quickly followed by vicious snarling and a loud crashing noise that jolts you back a bit. Your heart breaks at how desperate and pained your Omega sounds, “My Y/N! Give them back to me!”
The smooth voice speaks but the only words you manage to catch are “explain” and “calm.” Both of which you know won’t go over well with Shikamaru in the state he’s in. 
“They were in bed this afternoon, my Lord. I-I checked in on them twice. Once at daybreak and once right after lunch. I haven’t been back here since. I didn’t take them anywhere,” one of the voices stutters, though you give them credit for how confident their reply is in the face of your mate’s wrath. You recognize it as belonging to the castle’s head physician Kiyoshi. 
Shikamaru’s distressed growling becomes more high-pitched and wounded-sounding. It makes your hackles rise. You can’t make out what he says, his voice both too low and quiet but also too garbled from his growling for it to make much sense to you from such a distance. 
Kiyoshi’s response is also done in a much quieter register, “Yes…Yes I swear to you, they were alive when I left them. No…Look. I have my notes here….” 
There are some more muffled growling noises that you can’t distinguish.
“No sir. My assistants have been with me all day, including when we checked on them. They were still unconscious but very much alive. See, here…” 
The conversation dies down into whispers and for a moment, you think they’ve managed to talk Shikamaru down. Minutes feel like hours as you strain your ears to catch any bit of noise you can from the room. Taking a deep breath, you release the death grip you’ve had on the wall when nothing happens. 
‘Its okay. He’s okay.They got him down.’
“GET OUT AND DON’T COME BACK UNTIL MY Y/N HAS BEEN FOUND!” 
Or not. 
You wait a few moments before the door opens and you see Kiyoshi and another of his assistants exit. You can make out someone behind them and when you see who they are, your nerves all collectively set themselves on fire with worry again. 
Asuma Sarutobi. They had to call Asuma. It's never good when they have to call Asuma. It's really not good when they have to call Asuma when he’s supposed to be a country away dealing with Ino’s training. It’s extremely not good if Asuma failed at getting Shikamaru under control. 
“We need to find them,” he sighs, world-weary. The steady timber of the older man’s voice is deep and graveled in an odd mix of soothing and stern despite being laced with concern. The bags under his eyes are dark and deep, speaking of what must have been endless nights dealing with your mate. “Shikamaru will not be able to calm himself unless he sees them. He’s already hallucinating.”
“Even if they are…” the assistant trails off. He’s new, you recall. Sent from the Oasis as part of a new negotiation with King Rasa to exchange medical knowledge if the cut of his coat was any indication. His knowledge of Nara interpersonal relationships must be just next to none. 
“Especially if they are. He’ll need to see the body himself to know they are gone from this world. He’ll lead us all to damnation in search of his Chosen.”
The doctor nodded sympathetically, “Shikaku will have to choose a new heir to take the throne.” 
“Why?”
“Nara’s don’t live long after their Chosen passes unless there are pups born from their union,” Asuma rubs his face, “The Prince and his Chosen made the decision to postpone producing heirs for the time being. Navigating the longstanding effects of their separation has taken precedence. Shikamaru does not feel ready for pups and his Chosen prioritizes Shikamaru's health in all things first and foremost. If Y/N has died, Shikamaru will not be too far behind as soon as it's confirmed.”
The atmosphere in the hall is thick and heavy as the reality of the situation seems to take root in the three men. Discomfort licks along your skin. 
“Master Sarutobi!” 
Rounding the corner on the opposite side of the hall, Botan’s pace is as frantic and hurried as is appropriate for a royal guard. Their voices drop to whispers you can’t hear but the look on Asuma’s face suggests that Botan has brought them unfortunate news. All four of them turn and walk in the opposite direction, their pace as quick and hurried as Botan’s had been a moment previous. 
Everything is suddenly oppressively quiet again. 
‘I should probably go inside and get Shikamaru sorted out,’ you think belatedly, forcing your legs to walk towards your bedchamber door. You slip inside quietly, locking the door behind you. 
Shikamaru’s back is to you and you take a moment to look around the room before he realizes he isn’t alone. The damage wasn’t as extensive as you thought. He had indeed flung a vase, the remains of it scattered across the other end of the bedchamber. There was a broken chair laying across the small table Shikamaru liked to play Shogi on, also broken. Several of Shikamaru’s mounted antlers had found themselves embedded in various paintings and cushions. 
The thing that stands out to you most however, is the papers all over the floor. Neither you nor Shikamaru dealt with paperwork in your bedchamber. The desk was only equipped with smaller papers used to send notes or leave reminders.
When you look back at your mate, you notice him shaking and it's enough to break you from your silence.
“Beloved,” you say, keeping your voice clear. You wish to say more - even though you don’t necessarily know what it is you want to say - but your mate jolts almost violently to face you. Shikamaru’s face turns a deathly pale when his eyes lock onto yours, his eyes blown out as you enter the room. You don’t take your eyes off of him as you take a step further into the room, away from the door. The sour scent is thick in the room, poisoning the air as it radiates from your mate in thick waves, and you almost gag when an even thicker, more rancid scent bleeds into it. 
He is afraid. Down to his soul, he is afraid. 
Slowly, you start releasing a calming scent, letting it gently spread around the room, clinging to walls and floorboards to drive away everything else.
“I heard you were looking for me,” you start, cautiously. 
Shikamaru’s face reddens, rage dripping from his fangs as he hisses, “I’m looking for my mate.”
“But I am your mate,” you assert, “I am Y/N Nara, consort and Chosen to the Prince Shikamaru Nara.”
“How do I know you are who you say you are?” he growls, the sound hoarse, gritty, like footsteps over gravel. “Huh! How do I know you are not another deception? How do I know you aren’t Inoichi attempting to relieve me of my pain?” He crumbles, hands grasping over the back of the chair to hold himself upright. His body trembles violently.  “Don’t...don’t give me hope...Where is my Y/N? Have I lost them again?”
It hurts you to see him so broken. Blood pours from the wound behind your ribcage. 
“How do I know you aren’t a ghost coming to tell me I am alone again?” His voice is a whisper now, his eyes staring blankly at the wall to your right. You don’t need to look back to know he’s staring at your wedding portrait. It is his favorite possession, so much so that they had to remove it from the great hall with the rest of the royal wedding portraits because of how much of a distraction it became for him.   
You approach him slowly, carefully. He allows it, regarding you with all the exhaustion of a dying man. His pretty brown eyes are red rimmed and glazed, tears resting along the bottom but unwilling to fall as he stares at you, his hands hovering over your face as if terrified to touch you. Your heart squeezes at the darkness under his eyes, the sunken paleness of his face. 
“I am no apparition, beloved,” you whisper, reaching up to gently guide his hand to your face, “I am flesh and blood and love for you. Feel me.”
The noise he makes is choking and grotesque, “You...you are cold like death.”
You aren’t but it would do no good to point it out to him. Your mate is not within the realm of clear, coherent thought. 
“I have been without your warmth,” you croon, taking a step closer so your bodies are touching, “Breathe deeply Shikamaru.”
Shikamaru does as you say, his eyes flashing and pupil’s dilating when your scent finally reaches his nose. His delusion breaks, shattering like glass. Your arms reach forward to crush him close to keep him from cutting himself on the shards. You guide his free hand between your bodies to rest it over your heart, letting him feel the organ pulse under your skin. Shikamaru bawls in his relief, wailing into the fabric of your soft linen shirt.
“That's it,” you murmur quietly, letting your lips brush against the tip of his ear, “Let it out. I’m okay. I’m here. I’m so sorry I worried you.”
“I would have joined you,” he sniffs, biting into the fabric of your shirt to muffle his cries, “I can’t stand it otherwise. I can’t do it again.” 
“My Chosen,” you whisper, holding him tight as the waves of emotion crash into you, “I am so sorry.”
Your mate croons, removing his head from your shoulder. Keeping a tight hold on you, he pulls you forward and sideways  until his back hits the wall right beside the corner of the room. You crush against his front, pinning him tightly. One of his legs wraps around the back of your calf to keep you from moving back. 
You regulate your breathing - large inhales and large exhales. Shikamaru’s breathing changes to match yours, his belly pressed tight against yours. His scent burst around you both, saturating your clothes and skin with the scents of trees and linen. 
“Where had you gone?” Shikamaru asks finally, putting a little space between you both so his bloodshot eyes can run over the length of your body, “You were not in bed when I came to see you. You weren’t…” His mouth quivers the tiniest bit and it kills you. He catches himself, swallowing thickly, “We checked everywhere.”
“In our alcove. I was disoriented when I regained consciousness, some time late this afternoon. I didn’t know where I was or why I was there.” You clear your throat, the memory of thinking you were a concubine flashing to the forefront of your mind. 
“I wandered and ended up in our special place. Everything is a bit of a blur if I’m honest,” you admit, a tad sheepish, “I felt like I needed to get up and go somewhere, get away from the room. I found my way to our alcove and I distinctly remember the sensation of  “I’m going to go sit in the flowers because it's safe here.” I must have used all my energy because I fell asleep almost immediately.”
“Idiot Alpha-mine,” Shikamaru sniffs, clinging harder to your body and shoving his face into your throat, “Stupid Y/N. I hate you. You’re going to be swaddled every time you get in bed for the rest of your days and I’m going to be rough about it, I swear it on my life. I have never run so much in my entire life. I hate you.” He punctuates his words with a harsh nip at your throat, right below your mating scar. 
He doesn’t. You can smell the relief and adoration oozing from his body. There is an undertone of spice however and it's enough to keep you treading delicately. 
“I know. I’m the worst,” you croon, nuzzling as much of him as you can.
“No,” comes the immediate reply and it makes you grin the tiniest bit.
“But you hate me,” you tease gently.
“No,” the nip this time is harder, more insistent. His voice is hard, growly, and you bite your lip to keep a laugh from escaping. “Be silent.”
“Oh we both know I’m incapable of such a thing,” you grin, gently pulling him away from the wall. He looks more like the man you know him to be. His eyes no longer glitter with tears. 
“I have never hated silence more,” he whispers, taking a large purposeful inhale of your scent. “If not for your heartbeat, I would have lost myself to madness.” 
The air is pulled from your lungs at his statement. It shakes you still, how all encompassing his devotion to you is. 
“I adore you,” you whisper back with a watery smile. He presses his forehead to yours, his hands reaching up to rub along your arms and shoulders, pressing his fingers in wherever he feels a muscle. Slowly, his scent loses the sick, burning edge. 
You have no idea how long you spend entwined with him before you are reminded of the world around you. As if reading your mind, he pulls away from you, trailing a hand from your shoulder to yours to grasp it tightly. It is obvious he does not want to be parted from you entirely, and given the contents of your last bits of memory, you can honestly say you feel the same. Parting from him felt near impossible. 
“Now,” you start, unsure where to even begin, “can you tell me what happened?”
“It would be better to reconvene with my father and get answers from him,” he responds, face pinking before his hands tighten, “Please do not think I am purposefully holding information from you without reason.” His stare was as intense as it was panicked. “I don’t wish to inspire distrust. I just…” His face pinkens as he looks down at the floor, “I haven’t been well. I wasn't privy to a lot of conversations about the incident since my only focus was to make sure you stayed alive. I know some things but not all.”
“Alright, we shall meet with your father and figure out what's going on from there,” is all you can say, kissing his forehead. He sighs at the feeling.
Something white catches the corner of your eye and you are reminded of the papers on the floor. 
“Can you tell me why there are papers all over the floor?” 
Shikamaru tenses once more, his mouth wobbling in a shadow of a grimace, “Someone left these on your pillow.”
He pulls away from you to pick up all the papers from the floor, refusing to look at them directly even as he puts them back in some sort of order. He hands them to you before curling up against your chest, nose directly against your pulse and fingers wrapped in the fabric of your shirt. 
On top, there was a note, written by Lord John if the decidedly lazy scrawl was anything to go by.
I’ve taken the liberty to start these for you. 
Underneath the note are several documents. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had sent your mate spiraling. 
 On the top was a death certificate. Followed by an order form for a casket, a list of available priests should your next of kin decide for one, a copy of your will and testament with recent ‘changes,’ and several inheritance disbursement forms. 
All the papers were filled out with your information, the time and date of your ‘death’ aligning with the time and date you had fallen unconscious.
“Slimy little wretch,” you growl under your breath before tossing the papers on the desk.
^^^^^^^^^^
The adults disappear behind large wooden double doors, leaving you alone with the prince. Well, as alone as you can be with guards stationed everywhere. The Great Hall was massive and beautifully decorated. It was obvious a lot of care went into designing the castle, every nook and cranny you could see carved and detailed with precision. Countless paintings adorned the walls, lit by the sun through the open windows.
Shikamaru stands in front of you, his face still just as bored as it had been a few moments ago. It was obvious he had no intention of breaking the silence between you both.  Feeling anxious, you decide to break it yourself. 
“My name is Y/N Y/N, heir to the throne of the L/N kingdom of the Eastern Realm, ward of the palace and first of my name,” you introduce yourself with a smile and a bow. 
The Omega offers a more subdued, polite smile, “My name is Shikamaru Nara, heir to the throne of the Nara kingdom of the Western Realm, son of King Shikaku Nara and Queen Yoshino Nara and first of my name.” He mimics your bow. 
“A pleasure,” you hum, trying to remember all the appropriate forms of greeting.
“Agreed.”
Silence befalls the room once more as you stare awkwardly between each other and different parts of the room. It's reminiscent of home, where silence echoes along the illuminated hallways and bounces off all the gleaming, cold metal but in the same breath, vastly different. It felt warmer, somehow.
And in that moment you remembered.
“I wish to see the flowers,” you announce suddenly, reaching a hand forward, “They were very pretty from the carriage window as we arrived but I’d like to see them closer. Would you join me? Show me the way?” 
He perked up, “I can show you my favorite hillside. I like to nap there when I’m bored of my lessons.”
Shikamaru takes your hand, warmth immediately flooding your arm but you pay it no mind, more eager to play with your new friend than focus on why your hand felt tingly. 
The dungeon is located below the ground floor, underground and only accessible by a single winding staircase. There are several guard posts that must be passed to goon way or another. The first time you were brought down here, Shikaku informed you that many dungeons failed because they were above ground, often with windows and other doors as entry and exit points. There were too many ways for people to escape, especially if they had someone aiding them.
You told him that the dungeon in your castle wasn’t capable of being underground because it was built into the mountain so the dungeon was placed at the side of the mountain. If your prisoners wanted to try their hand, they had the choice of trying to get past the guards or going through the window to fall to their deaths because there was no slope or ledge for them to climb anywhere. 
Shikamaru enters the dungeon before you do, keeping a hand on you at all times. He pokes his head in through the door, looking back and forth before walking in and allowing you to follow him. Inside, you see King Shikaku and several guards on one side of the room, opposite of the numerous holding cells that went deeper underground
Shikaku greets you with a nod and a smirk, “Welcome back to the land of the living.”
“Great to be back, though I’d like to know why I left in the first place,” you chuckle lightly, allowing Shikamaru to curl up as close as he can while standing and throwing an arm around him. His face falls into your neck.
With Shikamaru preoccupied, you mouth, ‘How bad has he been?’
Your father-in-laws face says everything as he mouths back, ‘Don’t do it again.’
Rolling your eyes, you mime crossing your heart just in time for Shikamaru to pull away from your throat.  
“Where is the Queen?” 
“Upstairs dealing with a rather unpleasant turn of events.” The King’s voice reflects the ordeal everyone has been dealing with in your absence, “But that is a matter for another time. For now, follow me.”
He turns on his heel and you both follow him dutifully as he takes you all the way to the end of the tunnel-like room. It opens up a bit at the end, the walls pressed outward to create more space.  Inside the space, there is a table and a few chairs where you all seem to naturally convene around. One of the guards quickly lights the torches all across the wall, illuminating the space quite nicely.
Lord John is sitting in his cell, the one furthest from the single exit, bathed in the darkest of shadows. He wore the simple gown of a prisoner, his person stripped bare of all his pomp and accoutrement. His wrists and ankles are linked by a chain that is connected to the wall in several places. A bit unnecessary given his lack of real strength but you surmise Shikamaru insisted on it. 
He’s spiteful like that.
“How are you alive?” the Beta man screams when he catches sight of you, face turning a concerning shade of purple, visible even in the darkness. Spittle shoots from his mouth as he rages behind the bars. He throws his body forward but the chains keep him from getting far. 
It's enough to send your mate into a frenzy though, because of course it is. 
“No,” you huff, grabbing Shikamaru around his waist and pulling him back against your body as he lunges for the bars.
“Please,” he hisses back but he makes no movement to break away from your hold. Instead, he turns and puts his hands on you, strategically placed to know the moment you feel any sort of weakness that may cause you to tumble. 
The Beta continues to rage, speech degrading into nothing more than incomprehensible noises of anger and half-formed words. Shikamaru continues to snarl beside you, both hands tight around your body as he glares down at the wailing man from over your shoulder. 
“Do you ever get tired of the taste of talking?” Shikamaru growls before nodding at one of the guards, “Gag him. I wish for his silence.”
“What happened that night?” you ask, turning away from the cell. You didn’t really want to look at the prisoner any longer. “All I remember is falling into darkness. Someone screamed, I think.”
Shikamaru’s face turns pink but says nothing. You choose not to point it out. 
“Lord John made a direct attempt on your life. The chocolate balls you enjoy were laced. Lord John knew of your love of chocolate and my distaste for it so he knew I would not ask for one.” 
You resist the urge to snort. ‘Ask.’ 
“We ordered for his arrest, he tried to fight it by releasing shoddily made smoke bombs. When that didn’t work, he took one of the Omegas hostage. When that failed, he tried to run to the window but he could not fit through the opening and got stuck. We made the arrest after prying him out.”
You turn your gaze to look at the prisoner, eyes squinted in disbelief. 
“Unfortunately, we lost four of the Omegas. In the confusion, they fled under the cover of the smoke bombs.Our prisoner has been in this holding cell in the dungeon since you fell unconscious. He’s monitored all hours of the day and night.” 
“Only four?”
“Yes. Two of Omegas are accounted for. One is in the morgue..”
“The morgue?”
“Hmm,” your mate hums, “The short one that interrupted our mating. His hostage. Accidently cut her throat and she bled out on the floor.”
“Ah.”
“The four that managed to flee are believed to be heading towards the mountains. The Akimichi have been informed. Chouji is leading the search parties himself.” His eyes narrow as he thinks.
“You don’t believe that do you? That they are in the mountains.”
Shikamaru smiles gently over at you, softening impossibly, “You know me so well. No, I do not. Not for all of them at least.”
“And the other Omega? The second one we have accounted for…?”
“That would be me,” a silky smooth voice interjects. The redhead Omega sat a few feet away in a chair propped against a wall, unchained and unbothered as she cleans her knives. 
You look between your mate and your father-in-law in confusion, “Isn’t she the…?”
“The one who was ‘attacked’ by a Nara guard? Yes. Y/N, this is Maki Uchiha. One of the Uchiha Kingdom's finest intelligence agents,” Shikaku introduces as the woman stands and joins you all around the table.
“Oh, well. Nice to meet you. I think.”
You reach a hand out to shake hers but Shikamaru pulls it back and stuffs it into his jacket pocket. 
“Shikamaru,” you scold, “Was that necessary?”
“Yes. She poisoned you.”
“Oh I did not,” she bites back, rolling her eyes, “I merely paralyzed them.”
From the deep breath your father-in-law took, you know that this is not the first time they have bickered over the topic. Shikamaru huffs, leaning into your side and avoiding his father’s gaze.
“Anyway, yes I was the one who was ‘attacked.’” She pointedly looks away from your Omega to stare at you. Her eyes are a vibrant red, almost black in the low light, intimidating and seductive, “I was working undercover in the Usami District. My king sent me a letter and reassigned me to do resonance since he believed that our prisoner would head there. He was correct. Further instruction led me to following him here, with permission by the King and Queen Nara.”
She retrieves her bag from the corner and places it on the table, pulling out various papers and setting them on the table, “The prisoner in question arrived in the Usami district looking for Omegas in desperate need of money. His proposal was simple. Accompany him on his travel to a different kingdom as a status symbol and in exchange, he would pay a handsome reward.”
Fussing with a few papers on the top of her spread, she moved them over to Shikaku, “Here is the contract we signed.”
Shikaku reviewed the contents quickly before sliding it over for Shikamaru to see.
“How many of the Omegas are literate?” 
“Aside from me? Only one but his skill is no greater than that of an 8 year old.”
“So he gave them contracts they couldn’t read…” you murmur as Shikamaru scooted to the side to allow you to read it as well, “and lied about its contents if what I’m seeing is correct.”
“You would be,” Maki nods, “These Omegas are destitute, living in poor conditions with no formal education, and engaging in various illegal activities to get by. They were offered a sweet deal with pretty words and coerced into signing this instead. You were correct in your assumption that he was hoping the Prince would be single. His goal was, indeed, to try and be ‘Chosen.’ I don’t know much about what happened in my country but I could parse that Lord John did more than just have a finger in the pot and was desperately hoping Shikamaru would be his salvation.”
Shikamaru’s disgust was palpable, side-eying the Beta behind bars and tucking himself closer to you. 
“Why bring the Omega’s at all then? If his goal was to be mated to my Omega?”
“I suspect we were meant to be pawns, to be discarded far from home once he was done with us or left to take whatever punishment he garnered from himself,” she shrugs, “If you can’t tell, he doesn’t seem to form coherent, consecutive thoughts that make sense.”
“So…what? He arrived and decided to kill me?”
“Indeed. You were a threat to his path to promised immunity and safety,” Maki motions over to Shikamaru, red eyes gleaming in the candlelight, “And it certainly didn’t help that you were an Alpha and capable of besting him in combat. He believed that if you died, your mate would undergo another Choosing and well…” She lets her words trail off with a small nonchalant shrug that you know your mate does not appreciate. 
“Sneaky, underhanded cockroach of a man,” Shikamaru growled lowly, disgusting rolling off of him in waves. “Thats not how it works.” You felt similarly but pressed it down. You still needed answers.
“Okay, he realizes he won’t win in a duel so he…what? Poisons my snack? How did he manage to pull that off without scrutiny?”
Maki’s mouth pulled tight into a bitter smile, “Arika. The girl he killed. Originally, she and two others were meant to join you for your rut and kill you while your guard was down and your mind otherwise occupied. I was the distraction. He had not been expecting such…resistance from you.”
“Did he think of how Shikamaru would react?”
“No.”
“Of course he didn’t.”
“We were ordered to wait until he was asleep.”
“Shikamaru is allergic to sleep,” you huff, grinning at your mate. He grins back at you.
Maki ignores you both, “And when that failed, he sought to poison you. Arika, the girl he killed, was quite well versed in poisons and drugs. Knew her way around an apothecary. She was not meant for combat so she would drug the patrons that hired her for a night and stole wallets to keep her room at the Inn. She faced a life of slavery if she didn’t.”
“How old was she?”
Your mate looks at you carefully, his eyes roaming over your face intently as he tries to parse out why you felt the need to know. 
“18. Abandoned at 10, presumably for being another mouth to feed given both her parents are native to the district. Lord John offered her a way out, both physically and financially. She would have been a fool not to take it, even if it meant killing someone.”
It hurt you how well you understood this girl. There was once a time you felt a parallel desperation to escape the life you had.
“I swapped the vials before she went into the kitchen.The poison and paralytic look very similar so it wasn’t hard to switch them. The only drawback was that the paralytic is intense and if the dose is incorrect, it can cause organ pause. Your heart may have stopped when you consumed it, if only for a moment. Apologies.”
She offers you a small bow. 
“Apologies are necessary,” you reply simply, ignoring the protesting squawk your mate releases into your shoulder. At this point, there was nothing you could but forgive, especially if what she was saying was true. Better to suffer from paralysis than die choking on your own tongue.
“They are very necessary,” he hisses into your ear, his scent dipping into something darker, “She needs to apologize so I can never forgive her.” 
“Shikamaru…”
“No,” his voice is harsh, his stare hard as he looks between you and the Uchiha. 
“There was blood Alpha.” A hint of a whimper bled through his anger. “You fell limp, like all your life had been pulled from your body. Your eyes rolled back. Blood dripped from your nose. You were so…cold…” He takes a deep breath, “You were asleep for over a week. Close to a full fortnite.”
The Omega Uchiha shoots you a curious look, “You shouldn’t have bled…”
“No matter,” Shikaku interrupts, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers and his son huffs petulantly, “We…”
“Stupid Alpha-child!”
You close your eyes and take a deep breath at the interruption. It would seem that Lord John has freed his mouth from the gag. 
‘God, if you are there…’
Shikamaru’s hackles rise beside you, “You do not speak to them!”
“You do not tell me what to do, Filthy Omega Whore!”
“Oh what are you on about?” you complain loudly, and yes, you were aware you sounded like a child, but at this point, you just wanted to curl up in your bed with your mate and rest. Being the victim of an assassination attempt while being the future ruler of a kingdom was draining in the worst of ways. This annoying pest of a Beta was taking too much of your energy.
“You are a fool to fall for any of this nonsense,” the Beta spits angrily, “Blindly believing everything you are told. I was sparing you pain. Ask your Omega where he’s been. Ask him who he’s bedded while you lay dying. He certainly wasn’t having his needs and took full advantage of your absence..”
“The only need I had was for my mate to keep breathing,” Shikamaru states, cold and unfeeling. He doesn’t take his eyes off the man as he addresses you, “I was by your side every day. I laid next to you. I listened to your heart and felt your breath.”
“Ha! You really think-”
“Gag him again,” you order one of the guards, interrupting the horrid man, “Add a bite guard. Give him something new to choke on.”
Once he is silenced again, you turn back to Maki and Shikaku.
“What about the papers? The ones left in our bedchamber? How did they get there?” 
“They were sorted out beforehand and slipped into the room sometime during our search for you,” Shikaku murmurs, cracking his neck. “Shikamaru discovered the documents shortly before nightfall but they had not been there when we first discovered you missing.”
“You think it was one of the other Omegas?” you ask, looking back at your mate, “Is that what you meant by ‘not all of them?’
Shikamaru nods, “I reason that, instead of fleeing, one of them had planned to finish what was started with the poison…” his voice breaks into another growl, loud and vicious, face contorting viciously before clearing his throat and assuming his composure, “And when they found you missing, they left the documents on your pillow and joined in the search. They did not find you because you took a nap in the dirt like a gremlin.” 
With a playful, smug look on his face, he catches the hand you use to push him away from you to keep you beside him.
“Bite your tongue,” you bark out a laugh, struggling to get your hand and arm out of his grip.
“Never,” he croons mockingly, pressing an insistent kiss on your cheek.
“Ew,” Shikaku deadpans, face devoid of all emotion. Shikamaru pauses to look at his father, the most offended look you have ever seen forming on his face. You bite your lip and turn away, the laugh in your throat bubbling dangerously close to the surface. 
Picking up a pen from the table, Shikamaru twirls it around his fingers.. A quick glance at his side reveals that his favorite knife (and knife sheath) are missing. Given everything that has happened, it was probably for the best that he not be allowed to carry sharp objects. 
“That was part of the back-up plan,” Maki admits, shuffling the papers on the table again, “ This is a copy of the instructions he gave us in the event we were caught or if the poison did not work. We each had an assignment.One of us was to sneak into the royal bedchamber and suffocate the Royal Consort as they lay unmoving.” 
“And he wrote all this down?”
“Yes.” 
“Oh…bless the stupidity of egotistical men…” you exclaim, voice edged like razors. 
“Is there anything else that we need to know?” Shikaku asked, gathering all the papers from the table and rearranging them to his liking.
“This is as far as I’ve got. I don’t know where the other four are but I would assume that the three that took advantage of the distraction and left the castle have stolen aboard a ship by now. I do not think they are a threat.” 
The King nods solemnly, “Thank you, Lady Uchiha.” 
She says nothing as she bows.
He turns to you and his son, “We will meet tomorrow evening to go over other information we have found and prepare for our prisoner’s transportation to the Yamanakas. Rest now, both of you.”
With the papers in hand, Shikaku leaves you, his footsteps heavy as they echo off the walls of the dungeon. You politely wait for Maki to gather her things, even as Shikamaru starts herding you to the door as well. 
“Thank you for all your hard work,” you say, allowing Maki to walk ahead of you, “I appreciate you…uh…not allowing them to kill me.”
Her smile is a tinge sardonic, “My pleasure.”
Shikamaru huffs against your shoulder, hiding aggravated little noises in the collar of your shirt. The female Omega opens the door.
“Before I take my leave,” her entire demeanor shifted into that of a predator as she steps away from the door and glides around you, seemingly unaffected by the warning pheromones your mate was producing, “I must say, I do appreciate your….hospitality…It's very rare to find an Alpha willing to provide clothes to Omega prostitutes instead of the alternative…”
A light wash of her scent filters around you, detailing her interest. Her red eyes gleam mischievously as she looks between you and Shikamaru.
“Feel free to write…” she purrs sweetly, winking as she exits the dungeon.  
“You are never giving anyone anything ever again,” Shikamaru growls darkly, eyes stuck on the door Maki disappeared through. 
“Shikamaru…”
“No. Start being an asshole.”
^^^^^^^^^^
The castle was large but felt larger still as you weaved in and out of hallways behind Shikamaru until you found an exit that led to the fields. He didn’t stop until you were at the top of a large hill that oversaw much of the expansive fields. The flowers perfumed the land with the sweetest scents you’d ever smelt.
It didn’t take long for you to begin weaving a crown of the bright flowers.
“What are you making?” Shikamaru asked from his place beside you. He had immediately laid down in what he dubbed as ‘his favorite spot’ upon arrival. “Let me see.”
“A flower crown,” you respond, showing him your work quickly before wrapping another flower around the piece.
“But you already have a crown.” You laughed at the way Shikamaru’s face scrunched. You reached up to touch your travel crown before taking it off slowly. The jewels set in the cold white metal shone delicately under the sun. It was a good deal smaller than the normal one you wore at home, less heavy and harsh on your head and neck, but it was still unbearable to wear.
You shrugged, “Flower crowns are prettier. And I don’t get to see flowers often. Not ones like these anyway. We live in the mountains along the sea. Most of my people are miners and fishermen. We don’t grow from the earth, the weather and terrain make it nearly impossible.” 
Shikamaru reaches over to pluck your metal crown from your hands, running his fingers along it before dropping it into his lap with a start, “It's so sharp and heavy. How do you wear this?”
You shrug again, subconsciously touching the tiny scars around your temples, “I try not to. They hurt.” 
Shikamaru discards the crown to the side with a curled lip, choosing instead to roll onto his belly to watch you work. It didn’t take you long and when it was finished, you plopped it on your head. 
It felt infinitely nicer than your other crown, even if it was a bit sloppy and uneven.
“Do you want one?” you ask the boy, reaching over and plucking more of the flowers from the ground.
“I think so, yes,” he murmurs, face flushing pink. You smile and begin weaving. 
Shikamaru watches you intently as you switch between grabbing flowers and working them into a circular shape. When all the flowers in front of you are gone, you lean to the side to grab more.
“Oh,” you start, pausing from your work to pluck a white dandelion, “We can make wishes.”
The boy’s face scrunches in confusion, “How?”
“Here,” you hand him the dandelion. “Close your eyes and think of a wish. Don’t say it out loud but when you know what it is, blow until all the petals detach. If they all fly away, it will come true.” 
Shikamaru closes his eyes, makes a wish, and blows. 
The purring starts as soon as the door closes behind you. Your Omega is demanding, herding you towards the large comfortable bed at the back of the room that was to be your new bedchamber. Shikamaru was adamant that a new bedchamber was necessary since the other one was ‘ruined’ and ‘tainted’ and ‘dangerous.’ He didn’t want to sleep in the same room that so many people entered with ill-intent. 
You indulge him because when have you not? If the Omega has decided the den is not safe, it is the Alpha’s job to find them a new one after all. 
“Are you well?” he asks, keeping his body glued to yours. His hands do not remain idle as they wander over every part of you they can reach. 
You grin, pressing a kiss to his nose, “I am.” 
His eyes soften, “Good.”
Stripped bare by your mate’s persistent hands, he nudges you to sit upright in your bed, back against the pillows and headboard. Once divested of all your clothing, an equally nude Shikamaru crawls into your lap. His legs bracket yours as he gets comfortable. The vibrations in his chest get louder as his skin meets yours.
“Come here,” you insist, cradling the back of his head and tangling your fingers in his hair, loose from its normal tie, and bringing it down to your throat. Scent made sweeter, you guide his breathing so he inhales as much of it as possible. A hot, wet tongue meets your gland, lapping at it until it's swollen and pulsing, secreting enough scent to drown a fish. 
It feels heavenly and you convey that with a purr of your own. 
With your free hand, you rake your claws over the skin of his back gently. His body shakes and shudders in your arms. You slide it down to cup one of his cheeks, a finger rubbing against the furled skin of his asshole. While Shikamaru may not prefer anal, he does like when you tease that hole like you tease his other one. He arches further into you with a breathy little mewl, sticking his ass further into your palm.
The smell of slick is heavy on your tongue, your lap damp where he is sitting above you.
Gently you pull him away, using your hand still fisting in his hair to guide his head up and back, giving you unlimited and unrestrained access to his throat. Scraping your fangs against the skin, you kiss and mouth along the stretch of skin, making sure to leave several little red marks behind. You nip at his scent gland, encouraging it to pump out the heady smell you are addicted to. 
You hum happily against his skin.
Leaning back further, he adjusts so he can open his legs wider. He grips onto your knees, displaying himself to your greedy gaze. His body glistens with a light sheen of sweat, pink spreading down his chest and across his face as he exposes the entirety of his body for your consumption. His cock twitches against his belly, a glob of precum dripping down the side. The lips of his cunt are parted the tiniest bit, letting you glimpse the hidden treasure inside. 
“Aren’t you delicious?” you croon, trailing a hand from his throat down his body, groping his muscles and flicking at his nipples as you do. The little buds pebble under your attention. Shikamaru lets out a shaky breath as your claw traces over the nubs gently. “Such a strong Omega. I am blessed to be mated to one so handsome.”
You run the hand back up, cupping his jaw and forcing your thumb into his mouth. His eyes flutter as he closes his mouth around the digit. He doesn’t suck so much as he open-mouth kisses it. 
You take your spit slick thumb and gently swipe it against his clit as you descend onto his chest, biting and sucking at whatever skin you can reach. You decorate his chest thoroughly, making sure the skin will bruise because you know he likes to press on them. He likes to have reminders throughout the day that everything is as it should be. 
A happy moan escapes past his lips at the attention, “I love when you play with me like this.” 
“Oh?” you quirk a brow, lips tilted up in a smirk
Your Omega nods, licking his lips as he rocks against your thumb, “Yes. I think of little else than the feeling of your touch on my body.” His voice stuttered around a whimper as he grinds, hips twitching as you rub smaller circles on his clit. “Ah-h. Like that. Just like that. Play with me. Ah-ah. I’m yours. I’m all your-ah.” 
“I adore you,” you whisper, shifting your hand to insert two of your fingers inside of him without removing your thumb. His cunt squeezes at the intrusion, slick dripping down over your hand and wrist. He groans.
“That's it,” he croons, arching, “Touch me. I’ve missed you.”
“So tight beloved,” you moan, eyes fixated on the way his slick trailed down your hand and wrist, “And so wet. How fucking needy you are.”
“I have been without you,” he parrots your words back at you, 
“No one has touched me in your absence,” your mate insists, “I promise. No one but you has laid with me. I’d never…I don’t think I could take it if someone besides you shared my bed.”
“I know my beloved.”
“You believe me?” Your poor Omega looks so devastated at the very idea that you wouldn’t. You really wish you could kill Lord John. String him up by his guts and hit him with a stick like a pinata until the rest of his organs fall out. 
“Of course I do,” you insist, crooking your fingers inside of him just to press on his sweet spot and make him shiver.
“That's-thats it? Just like that? On my word alone, you believe me?” 
The confusion in his voice makes you wonder if there is more that has been said in your absence. The look in his eyes confirms it. 
“Of course,” you reiterate, pausing your ministrations to look at him directly, “Shikamaru?”
“I can prove I haven’t taken anyone to bed!” Your Omega insists, his scent spiking with anxiety, “I can prove my fidelity. I’d never stray from you. I didn’t…please…I…”
“Remember who you are speaking to. You don’t have to prove anything. I believe you at your word Shikamaru.” You press onto his mating mark with the hand that wasn’t buried inside of him. 
His face changes gradually as he mulls over your words. You pump out a wave of calming pheromones. After a few moments, he slumps, relaxed, “Of course you do. Of course I don’t.”
The smile on his face is lazy and soft, his body losing all tension. You move your fingers again, slower. Gentle. Your Omega purrs, going back to rocking on your hand as you bring him gentle pleasure. 
“I originally intended to take you in my mouth,” he murmurs, quietly as he stares into your eyes, “Taste my Alpha once more. Slip into the soft Omegaspace you bring me to when you use me in such a way. But now? I want to feel you grow inside of me. Are you amenable?”
Shifting up, he pulls your cock from where it was resting under his ass. Needy brown eyes look down at it where it's resting against his cunt and under his own cock. Even mostly limp, you were impressive. 
“Absolutely.”
 You remove your fingers from him, grinning at his disappointed whine at the loss, but it's quickly wiped away when he smears his own slick over your hardening flesh. Once it's sufficiently coated, he rolls you both over until he is underneath you. 
Settling between his open thighs, you slide into him easily despite the lack of hardness. You let out a shaky breath as he slowly took you in, the muscles expanding and contracting to welcome you. The moan he releases as you bottom out is nothing short of divine, one of his hands curling around the back of your head to bring your face down to kiss you. 
“Don’t move just yet. Let me feel it. Ohhhhh….” Head thrown back, he releases a deep, primal Omegan growl. It triggers your own growl, a response from your Alpha to his Omega. Ducking down, you bite and suck at the skin you can reach, brightening the marks you already left. His body trembles under yours.
He pants as your cock grows and pulses inside of him, dark eyes fogging up as he loses himself in the connection, the feeling of you growing more and more aroused inside of him. His legs twitch as your sides, his cunt clenching and unclenching around you as it's stretched. Slick spills from around your intrusion, dampening the sheets below you.
The pleasure is nearly blinding, the feeling of your Omega’s slick cunt around you second to none.. When it becomes obvious that you aren’t going to get any harder, your cock not getting any bigger, Shikamaru’s chest heaves, his mouth twitching up into a dazed smile as you melt into one being. 
“You fit inside me so perfectly. I never want this to end,” your Omega murmurs slowly, pressing gentle, chaste pecks on your mouth. 
“I won’t let it,” you whisper, lowering yourself down so your body is flush with his, cock throbbing against the soft gummy walls of your Omega’s cunt, “Never.”
“Yea?” he slurs, eyes rolling back a little as he feels your cock leak hot sticky precum inside of him, “Promise me?”
“We are going to grow old together,” you smile down at him, resting on your forearms. His eyes shoot open, dilated and wet and radiating awe up at you. “We may have spent 13 years apart but we will have the rest of them together. Fifty…sixty…seventy years. And nothing is going to stop us. I will not allow it.” 
He whimpers breathlessly as he nods, clenching around your cock again, “Yes, yes, yes. I’m yours for the rest of my lif-ah, ah, ah. You’re mine too right? All mine. My Alpha. My conso-ah, fuck.” 
You groan around a purr, “I’ve never been anyone else's. I’ve belonged to Shikamaru Nara since he made a wish on a dandelion.” 
“Love me,” he urges, momentarily snapping out of his haze to shoot you a look of utter desperation, “Please. I’m ready. Need you to move Alpha-mine.”
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” you promise, bracing yourself as you withdraw from the warm, wet heat and slide back in. Slow, gentle, repetitive rocking. 
“Yes. Yes. Yessss…,” your mate purrs and your heart swells with pride. Petting a hand down his side, you roll your hips a little more insistently. Shikamaru makes a low, beautiful noise and pushes his hips up against yours, his arms wrapping around you tightly. You are reminded of how horribly he wants you and you hardly know what to do with the feeling. Beyond words, you lick into his mouth.
When you pull away, you lift up and slide a hand down to wrap around the cock that was trapped between you, flicking your thumb over the head and using his own precum as a lube to ease the glide. Your mate is large for an Omega, thick and hot in your hand and you know from experience how good he tastes. His back arches with a loud keening noise and you take the opportunity to lean down to suck at his chest, flicking the pebbled nipples with your tongue.
“That's it. Let me hear you. Let your Alpha hear you.”
The slow, wet slap of flesh echoed through the bedchamber and you were positive that anyone who passed by the door could hear it.
‘Let them hear,’ your Alpha snarls as your knot begins to expand and catch along the rim of Shikamaru’s cunt, ‘Let them know that only you are allowed in this Omega’s bed. Only you have the privilege of mating with this strong, handsome prince.’ 
“Oh.Oh. I’m cumming,” Shikamaru breathes, whimpering as his body tightens, “Please. Please. I need it. Please.”
“Go ahead beloved. Cum for me. Just like this.”
“Say my name,” he pleads, “Cum inside me. Need to feel your knot break me open. Need to hear you.”
“Shikamaru,” the sound is strangled as you start to crest into your own orgasm.
Your knot popped in and out of his hole deliciously until you couldn’t move it anymore, keeping your pace as gentle as possible. Shikamaru’s arms let you go to splay above him on the bed, leaving himself completely open to you as he kneads the blanket under him. His eyes, doe-eyed and soft, never left your face, even as they flutter in pleasure. He doesn’t say much outside of his cooing moans and breathy sighs but he doesn’t need to. You know. 
“Such a good Omega,” you whisper, dropping gently on your forearms to kiss his mouth, “I love you.”
“I love you,” he responds, wispy and gentle, like it was the easiest thing in the world to say. You relish in the softness you rarely see outside of the privacy of your quarters.
Your orgasms are gentle, softly cresting as your bodies locked together. His tie milks your swollen knot as he spills over his own belly, encouraging you to empty inside of him. Shikamaru’s legs tremble as he’s filled with warmth, his mouth dropping open as his eyes flutter closed. Feeling you orgasm, your sticky cum plugged inside of him by the thickness of your knot, was always the most overwhelming part for him.
You were, after all, putting a part of you inside of him. 
“I love you,” he repeats, chuckling wetly, tears rolling down the sides of his face as you both come down from your euphoria, “I can’t stand a world without you in it.”
“You are everything,” you gently wipe the tears away, “There is no me without you anymore.”
He leans up to catch your lips, his tongue shoving its way into your mouth. His purring stutters with every pulse of cum you release inside of him, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine. Soft incomprehensible words pass his lips as you take control of the kiss.
In an unexpected burst of energy, you are flat on your back with your Omega on top of you. Still connected by your knot, he grinds down, pulling at the connection to encourage oversensitive bursts of pleasure to crash through you. His internal muscles clench exquisitely, forcing a gasp out of you as he moans, loud and unabashed.
“Again,” Shikamaru pleads, rolling his hips on your deflating knot, “Love me again.” 
You indulge him because when have you not?
^^^^^^^^^^
It all happened so fast.
One moment you were happily eating dinner in the Nara castle’s dining hall with Shikamaru, his parents, and your guardian, nanny, and guards. Talks had gone well from what you had gathered from the pleased scent wafting around your guardian but you hadn’t cared much to inquire about it, as Shikamaru had taken a seat beside you and the way he was playing with your fingers was much more entertaining to you. 
In the next, everyone was yelling and you were being yanked in two separate directions. The loud rumbling growl that erupted suddenly from your guardian was something you never heard before and it sent shivers of terror along your spine. A rough, clawed hand circled your arm and dragged you from your chair. 
“What's going on?” you cry, eyes tearing up at the pain of claws digging into your skin. You try to tug free of them but you are no match for their strength. A smaller hand latches onto your other arm, tugging frantically. Shikamaru’s face is pale, eyes blown in fear as he fails to free you.
“Let them go! They’re mine!” the Omega boy yells, tears furiously pouring out of his eyes as you are yanked harshly from his grip, “You're hurting them! My Y/N!”
“Silence, you horrid demon child,” your guardian snarls at him, to which Yoshino drags her wailing son into her arms, dark eyes glowing in her fury. Her lips curl around her teeth, her own growl low and predatory. A growl worms its way to your throat, sounding no more frightening than a kitten’s yowl but with all the ferocity of an enraged Alpha. 
“Don’t be mean to him!” you spit, struggling with every bit of strength you could manage, “Let me go! Shikamaru!”
“Enough,” your guardian yells, smacking you in the mouth before handing you over to one of the guards roughly. Their arms wrap around you in a hold you had no hope of breaking. Shikamaru’s angry scream rattles the walls in the dining hall. “Our deal is off! We come asking for aid and you dare take advantage? Casting your Nara sorcery upon our only heir?” 
Shikaku’s face is incredibly dark but he says nothing, letting your guardian dig a hole for themselves. Yoshino’s impossibly black eyes dart between her mate and you, her face softening and hardening in turn as you cry and thrash in tune with her son’s distressed wailing. 
“I am not cursed,” you argue loudly, chest rumbling in aggravation, “All we did was play in the flowers! We are going to be friends forever! Let. Me. Go.” You sink your baby fangs in the sliver of bare skin between your captor’s gloves and armor, delighting in the angry hiss he releases. 
“Hold your tongue!” Your guardian hisses, fiery eyes glinting dangerously at you. The fear from earlier is gone, dissipated in your own burning anger. They don’t take their eyes from yours as they address the guard holding you, “Take them back to the carriage. We are leaving.
“No! No! Nooooooo! My Y/N! Stop them! You have to stop them! Please!” is all you hear as your guard lugs you out of the dining hall.
You wait for Shikamaru to fall asleep before you slip out of bed. It's a challenge, what with Shikamaru’s death grip on your body, but you manage without much fuss. He stirs briefly, his face pinching in disgust at the disturbance.
 “It's okay. Go back to sleep. I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be back,” you whisper gently, running a hand through his loose hair. He hums and settles into the warm spot you just left behind, a quiet “Be quick” murmured into your pillow. You kiss his head. 
Slipping on your robe and soft shoes, you grab a candle and leave the confines of your bed chamber. The castle is silent, foreboding in the shadows and darkness, but you fear nothing here. You nod at the two guards who are standing in front of the door, both looking wide awake. You gesture that you are going down the hall. They nod back in acknowledgement, though one of them cheekily tapped their bare wrist at you. 
You roll your eyes playfully. 
The dungeon is cold, much colder than it had been earlier, but it makes sense since its no longer lit by a row of torches. It's also no longer midday, the coolness of the night somehow chilling the underground. 
You nod at the guards at each post and inform them of why you are down there and they allow you passage as long as you promise to not murder the prisoner. Somehow, they don’t believe you when you say you only had intentions to speak with him.
The ‘we wouldn’t blame you if you did’ was unspoken but it was heard nonetheless.
You keep your footsteps light as you walk down the long narrow room.
Lord John is still bound at the other end of the cell, his beady little eyes narrowing in rage as you pull a chair up to the bars, making sure it scratched against the floor unpleasantly as you did. His gag has been removed, likely so he could eat his dinner. The sound was horrid against the stark silence. 
“Good evening,” you start, happy and pleasant.
“Go to hell,” he bites, a pathetic attempt at a growl forming in his throat.
“A wise leader knows to never give their opponent the home field advantage,” you respond, leaning against the back of the chair, “But there is no need for hostility. I’ve merely come to chat.
“I have nothing to say.”
“Well I do so I guess I’m going to monologue at you again and you are going to sit and listen,” you pause, tilting your head back and forth, “I mean, it's not like you have a choice. You aren’t going anywhere. Not for a few days at least.” 
The Beta huffs, irritated and angry and you can’t find any part of you that cares. 
“You caused quite the scene since you’ve arrived,” you start, crossing your arms over your chest, “and inspired distress amongst everyone you’ve come into contact with.”
“Have I touched a nerve?” he sneers, the hint of a smirk on his face.
“I thought you had nothing to say?”
His mouth clamps shut, his Beta scent souring unpleasantly. 
“I still don’t understand what you hoped to achieve by killing me. I don’t think I care to think about it any longer if I’m being honest. You were never going to replace me even if your plot had worked,” you sigh, mild exasperation in your tone, “The Choosing doesn’t work like that. Even if Shikamaru survived after my passing, he would Choose someone who is worthy of being a Chosen.”
Fixing your gaze to his, you drop your normal speaking voice to your Alpha one, “You are not worthy.”
Lord John’s forehead vein makes an appearance even as he recoils, body shuddering to reject the sound and the danger it threatens, and it brings you such delight. The Alpha voice is always intimidating, especially when the Alpha rarely ever uses it. 
You reregulate your voice to sound normal, “A Chosen is something rare and sacred, a built in protection against trauma bonds. If you had bothered to learn anything about Nara history, you’d know that but I understand if it was too many words for you.” 
Lord John continues to say nothing, which you weren’t expecting to be honest. He loved the sound of his own voice. Maybe having the Alpha pheromones stripped away also stripped his confidence?
One can only hope. 
“And if you had tried to force a bond while he was deep in despair, the Queen would have summoned all of hell to come down on you,” you continue, “Shikaku may be the King but Yoshino is the one to be feared. Again, something you would have known if you bothered to look into the Nara's involvement in the last war.”
“And then there is the matter of you…writing all your plans down…on paper…multiple times…but we don’t need to rehash all of that.”
You sigh with all the exasperation of a child’s tutor, “Based on all this, I’ve concluded that you are just stupid.”
That gets a reaction. The prisoner shouts angrily and thrashes against his bindings. You watch with passive interest until he gets tired of getting nowhere. You made those chains yourself in the forge with a special blend of metals that you learned in the forges in your homeland, you know how strong they are.
Sweating and panting, Lord John eventually collapses back to the floor. 
“Are you done having big feelings?”
The prisoner huffs angrily.
“You asked me what a Nara provides for their Chosen and I never answered, which is quite rude of me. Do forgive my slight.”
You cross your legs and lean forward, resting your arms over your knee.
“You said that Naras don’t provide anything to their Chosen. It's all one-sided. Much like with everything else, you have been wrong.” 
Taking a deep breath, you think of the way Shikamaru smiles at you and embrace the calm it provides. “The power I hold over him is unimaginable. It is all consuming. I can ask anything of him. My desires are his. If I so chose,” You drop your voice to a whisper, slipping the tiniest bit of Alpha inflection in it, “I could. I can. He would allow me anything. Follow me anywhere. A lesser person would crack under the weight of such a responsibility.”
Lord John’s gaze wavers under yours but not enough to look away completely.
“Make no mistake. It is no burden. When you become a Chosen, you assume responsibility of your Nara, yes, but you also assume the truest version of yourself. I know myself when I am with him. When I stand beside him, my mind is clear. I search for him in every room I walk in because I wander, lost in a daze - quite literally might I add, I ended up in the garden- you know what, not important- when he is not with me. I have a purpose. He gives me a purpose. I am a foil, a mirror, and a friend as much as I am a lover or a mate. We are a match.”
You stand up, brushing nonexistent dust from your pants and robe as you do. You return the chair to the table before looking back at him through the bars.
“You could never be a Chosen. You are too selfish, too egotistical, too unwaveringly…pathetic. You care little for others, take advantage of those you feel to be below you, and demand for things that do not belong to you. You do not have the courage or compassion to stand as one with a Nara.”
You approach the cell again, slowly, a rolling hunter’s gait. Repelled, your prisoner jerks to press himself against the wall.
“T-to what purpose did you bother coming down here?” he stutters, fear bleeding through his scent for the first time since you’ve known him. He must finally sense the danger he was in.
Better late than never.
“This is the last time we will cross paths,” you grin, giddy, “And I wanted to make sure you knew that you will never have what you so desperately crave. You will go to the Yamanakas for further interrogation and then to the Uchiha for punishment while I stay here, living the life you desire.”
“It was either we have a nice little chat,” you lick your teeth, flashing your fangs at the portly man, “or I give into my rage and pluck your eyes from your skull for looking at my mate, cut your tongue for speaking poorly about my mate, and break every bone in your hands for thinking of putting them on my mate. I wasn’t sure how I was going to feel when I came down here.” 
You shrug, slipping your hands in the pockets of your robe, “The Uchiha said that you needed to be brought back alive. They never said you had to come back in one piece. The Yamanakas know how to extract information from the deaf, blind, and mute so you didn’t need to be whole for them either.” 
“You are insane,” he spits, tiny eyes filled with an odd combination of hate and fear. His scent grows even more sour, burning into your nostrils.
“I am in love,” you correct with a twisted grin “A common mistake since one so often looks like the other.”
The journey back to your bed chamber is uneventful. There are new guards at your door. Both of them give you a curious look but you wave them off. They crack the door open for you.
Shikamaru is sitting up in bed, propped by God and spite, and he’s glaring sleepily at you as you enter. You smile at him, endeared by the messy hair and mismatched blinking.
“Where…you?” he mumbles crankily, messily swiping the hair away from his face. 
“Here. I am here,” you croon sweetly, approaching the bed. Without prompting, he shifts to his knees and ‘walks’ to the end of the bed to greet you. He is still naked from your earlier escapades. He smells of dark, rich earth, sleep, and sex as he barrels sloppily forwards into your open arms. It's divine.
“Bed?” 
“Yes, I’m coming back to bed.”
“Sleep?”
“Yes.”
“Sex?”
“Later,” you pause, adding on a quick, “if you want.”
A slow, lecherous smile forms on his tired face as half-lidded brown eyes blink at you slowly, “Always.”
A huffed laugh punches from your gut, quiet and soft as you kiss his brow, “Okay beloved.”
Just as you are about to discard your robe and climb back into bed, the room shakes with rapid-fire knocking on your chamber door. 
‘Quoth the raven nevermore.’
You shake your head at the intrusive thought. 
Shikamaru hisses at the door, claws digging into the fabric of your robe and sleep shirt as he jerks to complete wakefulness, “What now? Can’t I have a moment’s peace?”
“Apparently not. Put on some clothing. I will get the door.”
Reluctantly, you separate from him. 
Gaia is outside the door, looking incredibly nervous as they pace back and forth in small circles outside the door. They mutter to themselves under their breath. The other two guards look at eachother and back towards you nervously.
You don’t fault them for their anxiety. Life has been rough in recent times. 
“I hate to interrupt but the Queen has sent me,” Gaia breathes once Shikamaru joins you from the bed, his own robe wrapped tightly around him, “The news cannot wait any longer and it is best if you hear this now before word gets around.” 
You share a nervous look with your Omega.
“Go on.”
“A Choosing has happened.” 
^^^^^^^^^^
The moon is high when you set off. Getting out of the castle was easy enough, granted that you were now of age to set off on your own without any of your guardian’s lackey’s following you. You took great delight in firing each and everyone of them the moment the clock struck midnight the day of your birthday. Your guardian had been none too pleased but their opinion did not matter any longer. 
You are an adult now, capable of ruling a kingdom without aid. Your coronation had seen it so. 
If that is what you chose, however. 
But it wasn’t.
Your letter to Shikaku Nara had not been returned and you could only hope that meant he understood your intentions and was waiting for you, ideally without any hostility. In the years following the disaster of a dinner, your guardian did everything in their power to burn bridges between your kingdom and the Nara Kingdom. While smaller than the Nara’s, your kingdom had a monopoly on a vast majority of the mountains and the sea and all its contents on your side of the country. The Akimichi may have their own mountain region but their mountains yielded very little in terms of resources and skill needed to handle such resources. Nothing like what your kingdom could provide. 
Still, even if there was hostility, even if you were walking into a trap, it would be worth it to see Shikamaru one last time. It didn’t matter if he hated you. If he executed you himself.
He was worth taking the risk for. 
It took a few days but all your cessation paperwork was complete, leaving the entirety of the kingdom to a cousin of yours. She is a few years older and had been in line for her own throne until her parent’s suddenly produced an Alpha heir and removed her from her position. She may dislike you but the whole situation left a bad taste in your mouth and she would be a better ruler than anyone currently in line for your throne. 
While you may not love your people enough to stay, you loved them enough to leave them in capable, competent hands. She would take care of everyone. 
She also hated your guardian as much as you did so that was a plus.
Traveling from your old home to the Nara Kingdom was treacherous and long. You avoid main roads for most of the journey, trekking along the more dangerous paths to keep from being tracked. No one with a sane mind would pass through the canyons deep in the north side of your mountain but with your choices being ‘get caught’ and ‘ traverse through horrible terrain’, you have little choice. You have no real allies. You have no real connections. There is no one to help you if you are dragged back to the kingdom you abandoned. 
Word spreads of your departure and abandonment quickly, which puts a damper on your plans. Your journey becomes much harder and requires several disguise changes before you are safe enough to rent a room to sleep in or a carriage to take you through the desert. Throughout it all, you go back and forth on how you are going to plead your case to Shikaku.
You’ve made peace with all the possible outcomes but still, it felt right to offer some sort of apology or…something. You didn’t have money for a gift but you were capable of working so maybe you could offer free labor. 
There was no guide waiting at the treeline of the Nara forest and for the first time since you left, you felt trepidation. 
The forest is still as magical as you remember it being. You step over into the growth and the path reveals itself to you. The indents in the forest floor seem clearer, like it is sucking in a breath to make the path more prominent. You stay on the line as closely as possible, keeping your eyes towards the total blackness. 
The journey through the forest seems a lot shorter than when you were a child but you chalk it up to the world being so much larger to a child than to an adult. When the trees start opening up and you can see the sky again, the sun has risen, glittering between the branches and leaves at the canopy. 
The path stops abruptly as deer start emerging from behind the brush. They pay you no mind however, walking past you as if you were a normal part of their environment. You don’t pay them much mind, however, as the gate to the castle comes into view.
You see four guards - two on each side of the gates - and your stomach sinks when they all look at you in tandem. 
‘Well, at least I managed to change my clothes before I showed up,’ you think to yourself, straightening your shoulders. Faux confidence comes easy to you as you take a deep breath and approach.
“We’ve been waiting,” one of the guards - an Alpha male - smirks before you can open your mouth, “You took very long.”
“I was on foot for most of it.” 
“Welcome,” another says before the Alpha can respond again and you recognize her immediately. Her hair is much shorter now but one of the sides is still shaved, displaying her inked skin. The tattoos have been added to and obviously outlined in recent years. 
“It's nice to see you again,” you greet, bowing your head slightly. She grins a little, flicking her hand and allowing the gate to open. 
With a deep, shuddering breath, you walk through the gates, long enough to catch the tail end of whatever the king was saying to his son.
“But don’t take my word for it. Ask them yourself. They’re here.”
In a flash, Shikamaru meets your gaze, dark brown eyes focused on you as intensely as they had been in the fields and the world falls away as you approach the castle. 
The following week is a mess of meetings and deliberations. The King and Queen ultimately decided to leave the decision of the matter to you and Shikamaru, a test of your ability to lead. They will offer you aid in your decision-making but will leave the final verdict to you. They will enforce whatever you and your mate agree upon.
“This is a matter that pertains directly to you both,” Yoshino had said, a small sad smile on her mouth as she gently grasps your hand in hers, “Only you can decide what is appropriate. I trust you will make good choices.”
This was a good idea in theory but proved to be more tumultuous than predicted, since Shikamaru spent most of the time being in a very unforgiving and spiteful mood during deliberations. The full force of his brutal tactician training had come forth intensely, laying a fifty part argument at your feet about why he favors one side of the argument and why it's the best course of action.
You, on the other hand, countered his arguments from a less practical, more forgiving heart, something that left him frustrated and sitting with his back to you on your lap and refusing to hold your hand. To his credit, he took your words in and contemplated them, asking follow up questions once he got past the initial aggravation. He heard you and was listening, even though he really felt strongly in his stance.
Once a decision was made, preparations quickly followed, and before long you found yourself sitting on the throne that will one day yours. Shikamaru sat to your left, on his father’s throne, dressed in the royal blue attire you are so fond of. Your own attire matched his, something he was quite insistent on.The King and Queen stood off to the side of the podium. There were two guards at the door.
The Great Hall was empty otherwise.
“Let them in,” Shikamaru ordered, keeping his eyes steadfast on the door as it opened. Two figures walked in, arms wrapped around the other, and the door was quickly closed behind them, the sound terrifying in the silence. The guards stayed outside.
“Approach,” Shikamaru ordered again, back ramrod straight against the back of the throne. You mimicked his posture. 
Kohaku Nara, loyal guard and lifelong friend to Shikamaru, stepped forward, arm wrapped protectively around one of the Omega’s from Lord John’s entourage. You hadn’t paid much attention to him during his stay, the only interaction being when you asked him if the clothing you had provided for him was good enough. 
He is a sweet-looking thing with large blue eyes and golden blonde hair. He’s a good deal smaller than Kohaku and much more beautiful. In another life, you imagine he would have taken your fancy. 
The two stop a few feet away from the throne podium, dropping to their knees to bow before you both. Jin’s body shakes in fear, his normally sweet Omega scent bitter with it. Kohaku does his best to calm him, a burst of calming scent wrapping around the Omega. His hand reaches over to stroke one of Jin’s. 
“It was brought to our attention that you have Chosen,” Shikamaru begins, keeping his voice purposefully neutral as he addresses Kohaku, “and that your Chosen is the Omega Jin. From my reports, you apprehended the Omega as they attempted to sneak out of the castle and the Choosing occurred then. Is this accurate?”
“Yes my Prince,” Kohaku raises his head, “My Chosen is Jin Mugan.”
“I am sure you are aware of the dire circumstances they have found themselves in,” your mate says, waiting for Kohaku to nod before continuing, “And of the punishments for the crimes they have been a part of since entering the kingdom, both under duress and of their own discretion.”
Kohaku flinches, tucking his lips around his teeth to keep from baring them. You shoot Shikamaru a warning glance.
“My mate and I have spent a week in negotiation about what to do with you both. You can imagine that I am not his biggest fan.”
“Please!” Kohaku interrupts, frantic, “I beg of you! Please let them go! We will depart and never step foot in the kingdom again! I swear it on my life!”
“Quiet,” Shikamaru bites, exhaling roughly. His hand reaches over to hold your own, letting them lay together on the cushioned table between the two thrones.
“That will not be necessary. You are not being cast away. Jin will live,” Shikamaru’s eyes are sharp as he looks between Jin and Kohaku, “But he will work outside the castle. I have contacted Lady Berta down in the village and she is willing to train him in her craft and keep him under observation. He will not be allowed to move about the kingdom freely. He will be under intense supervision until I have decided he is worth trusting. As for you, you will be temporarily stripped of your titles and guard uniform while you undergo your desensitization training and adjustment to your new conditions.”
“Thank you My Prince,” Kohaku bowed, his voice trembling, “I cannot say enough about what this means to me and Jin.”
“Unnecessary. I know what it's like. Choosing is powerful,” Shikamaru addresses the guard, words heavy with meaning, “My mate has convinced me that he is deserving of a second chance, if only because all he has done was deliver a parcel of documents on Lord John’s behalf. A messenger that was paid to be a messenger. He is harmless.”
Shikamaru does not mention the instructions Lord John had given Jin in case the poisoning did not work. He does not mention that Jin hid in the castle instead of fleeing like the others had. He does not mention that Jin had been ordered to cut your throat while you slept and that, if you had not gotten up and wandered away, he would have done so. 
His face hardens as he turns to the Omega, who flinches the tiniest bit. Kohaku, with great restraint, suppresses his snarl. “Given that my Chosen is the one whose life was nearly stolen, I am willing to concede to their wish to pardon you. They have a large heart. You would do well to remember their kindness and remember that you are alive because they wish it so. If at any point you step out of line, I will personally execute you.”
The Omega nods frantically before bowing once again, “I shall. I shall do everything I can to prove that I can be trusted. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Lord John has been sent over to the Yamanaka kingdom for further interrogation and from there will be sent to the Uchihas but that doesn’t mean much given your particular circumstances,” you decide to chime in, the look on your mate’s face telling you that he is beyond done with this interaction, “Thus I have taken the liberty of having an escort retrieve your mother and relocate her to the village.”
“What?” Big blue eyes stare at you in amazement. Kohaku eyes you warily, the beginnings of jealousy bubbling under the surface.
“Lord John purposely went after Omegas who were vulnerable and in need of resources without the ability to obtain said resources. From a reliable source, I found that you signed your contract because he promised you that your mother will get the medical treatment she needs. I consulted our physician who informed me that while the medicine is cheap, it is incredibly expensive to have it sent to the Usami District. Your mother will get her care here from now on. We have excellent doctors in the village.”
“Thats…thats too kind,” the Omega blurts out but his body loses all tension, as if he were a puppet who had their strings cut. Perhaps, maybe he was. “I.…”
“I do not believe in punitive justice, especially in cases where a much more peaceful resolution can be made.”
You watch as the couple embrace, nuzzling at eachother happily. Shikamaru rolls his eyes and ushers them out quickly, his threshold for patience overflowing. Shikaku and Yoshino leave their posts to squeeze your and your mate’s shoulders.
“Well done,” the King praises, clear approval in his voice. It fills you with pride.
“You are both on the right path, “Yoshino agrees, forcing a kiss to her son’s cheek. He squirms away and you laugh at him. 
“Troublesome,” Shikamaru grumbles, getting off the throne and yanking you out of yours, “I’m taking my Alpha to my room for a nap. I don’t want to be disturbed until dinner time.”  
He doesn’t allow anyone to say anything about it but you do hear your in-laws chuckle as the doors close behind you.
“I’m proud of you,” you smile, kissing his temple as you walk down the corridor at his side. He grumbles petulantly but the pink on his cheeks tells you he’s thrilled about pleasing you.
“I am mind but you are heart. I value your opinion in all things, even if it pains me,” he sighs, “You have the training to rule and will have equal say over how we run the kingdom once we ascend to the throne. I trust in us as partners.”
“So sweet beloved,” you coo playfully, pinning him to the closest available wall to kiss at his mouth. 
He allows it before nudging you lightly, “But if you ask me to forgive another person who made an attempt on your life, I will lock you in the deer pen. I can’t handle it a third time.”
“I know, I know. I give you my word that the next time someone tries to kill me, you can roll around in their blood like the little psycho I know you are.”
“Shut up,” he bites your mouth.
“Never.”
^^^^^^^^^^
Shikamaru pulled you into the garden hastily, not giving you a moment to change from your sleep clothes to something more appropriate. You had woken up less than an hour ago, startling into full wakefulness when his face immediately appeared above yours. He pressed his nose to yours, purring happily at seeing that you were waking. 
“Come with me,” he had said, gently herding you out of bed with gentle but insistent touches.
“Where are we going?” you can’t help but ask as you slip on some soft shoes.
“I have a gift for you,” he smiled brightly, dark eyes sparkling before looking away nervously. Two of his fingers wrap around two of yours hesitantly, unsure. You squeeze the digits between yours and his face pinks beautifully.
The opening of the alcove is hidden by a curtain of wildflowers. He pulls it back and allows you to enter first before walking in front of you. He pulls you down the short pathway before turning around to face you.
“It's not finished but…this is my wedding gift to you,” he demures, pressing against your front sweetly. “This is our place. Me and you. No one else.” You smile at him, wrapping an arm around the small of his back.
“Show me.”
He does, walking backwards until you are standing in the opening of the large circular part of the alcove. 
“I plan to put a hammock between these two trees. The weaver I hired will be done with it by the time our honeymoon ends,” he says, pointing at the aforementioned trees.
“It's lovely,” you croon, looking around the inner alcove in complete awe.
“Oh well,” your intended’s face turns pink, “I’m glad you like it.” He coughs, not meeting your eyes, before he starts to gently tug at your hand, “Come. Sit with me.” 
The floor of the alcove is completely covered with soft mosses and the same wildflowers as the ones in the field. He sits you down against one of the trees and climbs into your lap facing you. His arms wrap around your neck.
“I…” he clears his throat, “I originally intended to bring you here after our marriage ceremony before the reception but the more I thought on it, the more I thought bringing you beforehand was the better idea.”
“Why?”
Brown eyes dilate as he pauses to examine your face. His fingers knead at the muscles in your back and shoulders. He is heavier than he looks, all strong, lean muscle, but the weight is comforting. 
“Years ago, I closed my eyes and wished for my Chosen on a dandelion. I opened my eyes and there you were,” he murmured shyly “Naras all know about the Chosing. We are told as soon as we are old enough to ask where babies come from. They say we get a best friend,” He huffed a small chuckle, playing with your fingers. “It can happen at any moment so it's pertinent to be informed but no one can really prepare you for when it happens.”
His face turns sad, “I wanted to always remember that day so I had the gardener work a blank patch of garden to create this spot for the day you returned to me. It took years to get the plants to grow into the shapes I needed but it worked well enough in the end. I could come here and think of you when everything got to be unbearable.”
The look on his face brightens considerably, “And now you are here. We are getting married in less than three days and I decided that I want you to kiss me here,” his voice drops to a whisper, closing the gaps between your faces, “I don’t want to share our first kiss at the altar for everyone to see.” 
“I didn’t know my mate was such a romantic,” you couldn’t help teasing as you pulled him closer. He crawled over your lap, settling with his legs bracketing yours. It went over his head, his face flushing intensely as he looked down on you. Dilated brown eyes locked onto your mouth before a shaky finger reached up to touch your bottom lip. 
They widen when you take his hand and turn it over to kiss along his palm and finger tips. 
“I’ve thought of little else besides you,” you admit cautiously, “You and the flowers. It has gotten me through some truly awful times and I knew that as soon as I was of age, I would make my way back to you somehow.”
He purrs happily in response.
“And while we barely know each other,” you continue, “I will pursue the knowledge as a starving Alpha. I will know you. I will give you everything.”
“I only need us.”
Gently, you guide him down and press your mouth to his….
The sun is warm where it filters through the branches and leaves through the top of the alcove. The hammock sways lightly as you and your mate rest together. There is nothing innately indecent about your touching but one could argue that having your hands resting under Shikamaru’s trousers to knead at his plump ass was far from innocent.
It didn’t matter though, because Shikamaru liked it
“I’m bothered,” he huffs, giving up on his latest quest to get you to slide your hands down lower.
“About what?”
“The blood.”
“What blood?”
“When you collapsed from the paralytic. Blood ran down your nose. The Uchiha said you weren’t supposed to bleed and the physician said you were in perfect health.”
“Oh. That was probably just a nosebleed.”
The alcove goes deathly quiet, Shikamaru tensing as he removes himself from your chest to hover above you to meet your eyes.
“A what?”
“A nosebleed. It's spring. I have allergies.”
Shikamaru blinks at you, the gears in his head turning so slowly you wonder if he’s malfunctioning. You can see the moment everything clicks in for him and the laughter escapes you before you have a chance to swallow it down. 
“You are going to kill me,” Shikamaru groans at you, rolling over to flop on top of you once more. His annoyance bleeds into his scent, “I am going to die of hysteria because my Alpha is made of a single good luck prayer and cheese.”
“Don’t bring cheese into this. It did nothing wrong,” you nudge him half-heartedly, grinning when he goes lax to keep from being moved, “This is our first real spring together. It slipped my mind to tell you that I occasionally have nosebleeds.”
“You’re telling me that the exact moment you ate a chocolate ball and fell unconscious, you had a nosebleed and that's why you bled all over my shirt?”
“Yes. It was quite serendipitous.”
“I will kill you.”
“No, you won’t.”
“I’m not okay with blood coming out of your body. It doesn’t belong out here,” he chuckles, peeking up at you from his resting place on your chest. The light, happy look on his face quickly falls away into one of annoyance as the familiar wetness in your nose makes itself known. 
You try not to laugh as the blood drips down to your top lip. You reach into your pocket to grab a cloth and tilt your head back with it pressed against your nose. 
“You did that on purpose,” Shikamaru huffed, deeply offended as he rolled so he was facing away from you. “Troublesome Alpha. I’m telling my mother.” 
“Of course I did,” you respond sarcastically, the sound distorted thanks to the cloth, “I can control my nosebleeds. You’ve found me out. I was going to keep bleeding with the sole purpose of aggravating my beloved.” 
He huffs again, moving his head to bite your thigh gently, “At least you admit it.” 
^^^^^^^^^^
443 notes · View notes
flowerxbunnie · 4 months
Note
since im like i love w/ ur writing can u PLEASE do nate smut??
idk what but like please
-💋anon
Camping
Nathan Doe x Fem reader
Warnings: angst kinda, SMUTTTT
DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT OKAY WITH SMUT OR ARE A MINOR
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I’ve been friends with the triplets since I can remember. We’ve been on so many family trips in our time growing up together; beach vacations, skiing, boating. Never did I ever think I would agree to go camping with them.
But here we are in the mountains, setting up our tents and gear. It’s us four and Nate for three days, living out of tents and stuck with no cell service. It’s not exactly my idea of a fun time, but Matt loves the outdoors and Nick and Chris seemed super excited to get away for a while too.
“Pass me another stake, this one won’t go in the fucking ground!” Chris yells from across the jumbled up pile of fabric that we’re struggling to turn into a tent for him and Matt.
“This one is the exact same,” I laugh while grabbing another one out of the package and toss it his way. “But there ya go, have at it kid.”
He grabs it and replaces the one he had been trying to get in at first, this one going into the ground on his first attempt. He shoots me a teasing grin and sticks his tongue out like a little kid, earning a laugh from me in return.
“Maybe you should listen to the boys for once, Y/n,” Nate blurts out, my eyes narrowing in his direction. “Girls weren’t built for these tough woods.” He snickers and tosses a chip into the air before catching it in his mouth.
I turn my attention back to straightening out the fabric in front of me. “Maybe you should make yourself useful and put together your tent. How about that, Nate?” I shoot back without looking at him, my nerves getting more shot with each annoying thing he does. It’s been a fucking day already.
“It was a joke, damn. Someone’s panties are in a wad.” He laughs his smug laugh and I hear Nick quietly scold him.
He’s always been so immature. I deal with him because the boys love him, but if I had it my way I wouldn’t ever be in the same room as him. He just knows what buttons to press to piss me off and make me want to pull my hair out. He thinks it’s so funny to make jokes about me being a helpless, dumb girl, and that is far from the truth. Even if it’s just joke, why keep going if nobody else is laughing?
We spend what feels like hours getting the three tents set up, positioning them next to a little creek. The sound of the water is going to be incredibly nice once I finally get to wind down for bed. For now Matt is setting up a little fire in a pit so we can make some s’mores.
I walk to the back of the van and open the trunk, grabbing two of the fold up chairs we brought and start carrying them towards the fire pit. Nick sees me doing it alone and rushes to help, grabbing two more out of the trunk and trailing behind me.
“Thank you Nicky, there should be one more in the ba-” I cut myself off with a squeal, feeling fingers digging into my sides causing both of my chairs to crash onto the ground.
I whip around and Nate is behind me, a devious grin on his face and his hands up in defense.
“That didn’t even tickle, asshole. It hurt.” I spit at him, leaning down to pick the chairs back up.
“Not my fault you’re sensitive.” He laughs, retreating to the van to grab the other chair.
“I don’t know what his problem is, Y/n. I’m sorry. We can go somewhere fun just us once this trip is over to make up for it!” Nick apologizes, speeding up to walk beside me.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m still having fun with you three.” I smile, opening up the chairs and spacing them out beside the fire pit.
Matt finally gets the fire going and Chris gets back from his adventure of finding some nice sticks for roasting marshmallows. We claim our seats and sit around as the sun goes down, feasting on s’mores and listening to Chris ramble.
“No dude, I swear. I heard the footsteps behind me,” he says with wide eyes. “I was sprinting so fast to get back here.”
“There was not a fucking bear stalking you. We would have seen it.” Matt rolls his eyes, adding a piece of chocolate to his graham cracker.
“Not if it was stalking!” He takes a bite, marshmallow sticking to his cheek. “That’s like… the whole point of stalking,” he talks with his mouth full, “to be secretive.”
“Bro that would have been a cool story to be honest.” Nate chimes in, holding his marshmallow in the flames until it catches fire.
“Nate!” Nick says in a warning tone, his eyes widening as Nate pulls it out of the flames and starts whipping the stick around.
Nate stands up and starts doing a dance with the flaming marshmallow on top, carelessly lashing it back and forth. He runs in circles around our chairs, laughing as he holds it over my head tauntingly. Before I can even register what has happened, oozing hot marshmallow drops down straight onto my chest, a throbbing burn stinging my skin even through my t-shirt. I yelp and curse in pain and try brush it off with my fingers which proves to be no help, the stickiness makes it almost impossible.
“What the fuck bro?” Chris raises his voice at Nate, quickly standing up to help me brush the remnants away.
“I didn’t know it would drip..” he says while holding back a laugh, his hand coming up to cover his mouth.
Tears well in my eyes from the pain and I try to choke them back, pulling my neckline down to see a red welt already blistering up onto my skin. “Fuck you.” I direct at Nate, making eye contact with him as I stand up to head over to Matt’s backpack in his tent. It’s uncomfortably quiet, the only sound being the trickling of the water, the crackling fire and my feet stomping on the leaves.
I unzip the door and rummage through the backpack before finding the first aid kit, jumping when I fear the fabric rustling. Matt’s head pops in and he leans down so his head doesn’t hit the top of the opening. “You need some help?”
I nod and feel a hot tear fall down my cheek, brushing it away quickly as Matt digs through his kit for burn cream. I sit criss cross and he kneels down in front of me, sighing as he brushes my hair back and pulls my collar down. “He got you good, but it didn’t break the skin thankfully.” He swipes an alcohol wipe over it and cleans it up, using a swab to apply some cream. “All better?”
I nod and reach my arms out, sinking into his embrace. “Why does he hate me?” I speak quietly.
“Oh Y/n,” he laughs, “he doesn’t. He’s just immature. He doesn’t know when to stop.”
“Well it feels like he does. Haven’t even been through one night and he’s already getting on my last nerve.”
He pulls back and gives me a knowing look before standing up, holding his hand out and helping me to my feet. “I’ll talk to him. Just try to enjoy your time, okay? Don’t let him ruin your trip.”
I smile in appreciation of Matt and our friendship. I give him a nod and a peck on the cheek, jumping when Nate speaks up.
“The fuck?”
Matt and I snap our heads to him, his tall frame standing in the opening of the tent with a puzzled look on his face.
“What?” I snap, seething with anger. “Can’t even get five minutes away from you, huh?”
He raises an eyebrow and gives us a suggestive look.
“Nate, stop being fucking weird. Y/n is like my sister. Get your ass in here.” Matt demands, guiding me out of the tent and back to Nick and Chris, Nate bumping my shoulder as we cross paths.
The rest of the night is peaceful. Matt and Nate eventually came back to join us in our exchange of campfire stories, a grin across Matt’s face as he takes the seat next to me. We take turns talking about all things spooky, paranormal, conspiracy theories, you name it. When it circles around to Nate for his turn, he shakes his head and sits back in his seat. He remains quiet and standoffish for the rest of the night, engaging in conversation as little as he can.
It’s pitch black and the fire is dwindling down when Nick announces he’s going to head to bed, collecting the sticks and tossing them into the flames.
“Same here, Matt come with me so you don’t wake me up with that loud ass zipper later.” Chris ruffles Matt’s hair and gets pushed away playfully.
“I’ll be in there in a bit,” Nate looks at Nick. “I’ll keep a watch on the fire ‘til it goes out.”
Nick nods and retreats off to their tent, zipping it shut.
“Don’t let the bed bugs bite!” Chris yells as he sprints towards his tent, and Matt mouths ‘help me’ as he scoots in behind him.
The awkwardness in the air is thick and palpable, neither me or Nate uttering a word as the crickets chirp around us. He pokes and prods at the fire, sparks floating off into the air as he moves the remaining logs around. I watch, almost hypnotized by the embers and shake my head, snapping back to reality. As I look up I swear I catch his dark blue eyes looking into mine for a fraction of a second. I huff and stand up, brushing the crumbs off my shirt before I turn around to make my way to my tent.
I zip myself in and do the best skin routine I can do while camping, cleansing my face with wipes and applying my travel moisturizer and serums. I change into a tank top and sleep shorts, happy with the idea of being a little cold while I sleep.
I flip on my portable reading light and set it up beside my air mattress, grabbing a book to read to lull myself to sleep. The soft light is ambient and relaxing along with the steady trickling of the stream just behind my tent.
I read for a while, snug under my blanket and dozing off every couple minutes as my eyes trace across the pages. I hear rustling outside my tent, setting my book down as I listen closer. What if Chris was right and there is a bear stalking us from somewhere beyond the tree line? I jump and gasp as I hear tapping on my door, the fabric rippling and moving around.
“Knock knock…” a deep voice rings out just loud enough for me to hear.
The zipper starts moving around the arch of the entrance, falling down to reveal Nate’s figure standing outside.
“Can I come in?” He whispers.
“Uhh.. I’d rather you didn’t.” I groan and pick my book back up, trying to bring my focus back to the love story in front of me.
“Please? I’ll be quick.” He pleads, dipping his head farther in the tent.
I look up as the light catches on his face, and I can see the dip of his cheekbones, his jaw clenching lightly as he takes a deep breath.
“Fine. Make it snappy.” I concede, sitting up and drawing my legs to my chest instinctively, almost as an effort to protect myself.
I hear the zipper of the door being closed and feel the air mattress dip as he sits on the edge, a good distance still between us. He brings one leg up to rest on the bed and the other hangs down to the ground, nervously kicking back and forth. We sit for a minute without speaking, neither of us wanting to be the first to break the silence. He coughs and clears his throat, urging me to look his way.
“How’s the.. burn?” He asks as his eyes flick down to my chest and back up quickly.
“Really fucking painful.” I state matter of factly, exaggerating to try and make him feel bad.
He breathes out and closes his eyes, an apologetic look written across his face as he opens them again. “Look, Y/n, I’m sor-”
“You don’t have to do this.” I interrupt him, my tone full of annoyance. “I don’t want a half assed apology.”
“Let me talk.. please?” He asks calmly, pulling his other leg up onto the mattress.
I sigh and nod, playing with my fingers that are still interlocked around my legs.
“Y/n. I’m actually really fucking sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he looks down and shakes his head before looking back up, licking his lips. “I just d-don’t know how to..” he stammers, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“Go on..” I huff, ready to dive back into my book and sleep this night away.
“Can I just see the burn?” He asks hesitantly, a shaking hand reaching up to toy with my fingers.
I swallow back a gasp as the heat of his hand radiates against mine, his soft fingers guiding mine to unlock. His eyes are filled with a softness, an innocence that I’ve never seen before. I release my grip and allow my knees to fall down from my chest, exposing the wound he left on me hours before. It’s nothing major, just a red welt filled with lingering heat. His shoulders slump as he scans over it, his eyes showing remorse as they meet mine again.
“It’s already a lot better.” I admit, regretting the harsh tone I had used earlier when I lied to him about it still being painful.
“Can I?” He asks softly, reaching a hand toward my chest.
I give him a hesitant nod as my cheeks burn, scared he’ll be able to feel my heart pounding in my chest. My blood burns hot as it courses through my body, a visceral reaction to the distance closing between us. His fingertips graze over it with a feather light touch, so soft it’s like he’s almost not touching me at all. He lingers for a moment, his eyes shutting as he shifts his position to be directly in front of me. His hand drops down, landing on my bare calf as his eyes flash up to mine again.
“I just don’t know how to act around you, Y/n.” He is barely audible as his hand squeezes my leg.
“W-what are you talking about, Nate?”
“I just..” his hand inches up to my knee. “I think I make a fool of myself to try and impress you.”
I shake my head, convinced this is just a weird dream that I’m having and I’ll wake up to the same annoying Nate that makes me want to claw at my skin. I can’t help but feel my stomach flip with the way he’s opening up to me.
“I’m serious. I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off you since we were in school together.” His fingers trail up my inner thigh, the rough pads against my skin causing a heat to rush between my thighs.
“Nathan… I-”
“Fuck.” He mumbles under his breath. “You can’t call me that, Y/n.”
“Why not?” I ask in a whisper, my better judgement taking over as I place my hand on top of his own, leading it higher up my thigh.
His breath hitches as he looks down and sees that he’s millimeters away from the hem of my shorts. “Makes me feel some type of way..” he trails off, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his throat as he gulps.
“What kind of way, Nathan?” I ask lowly, batting my eyes at him and feigning innocence as I scoot closer.
“Stop it. Don’t start something you can’t finish.” He warns, starting to draw his hand back.
I tighten my grip on his hand and move it higher, pushing the tips of his fingers under the hem and biting my lip. “Who said I don’t feel the same?”
It’s like a weight is lifted off his shoulders. He brings his free hand to my face and caresses it lightly, still a little hesitant but with a hungry look in his eyes. He moves his face closer to mine, hot breath fanning against me as his pink lips ghost over mine.
“Are you sure?” He asks seriously.
“I’m positive.” I answer, closing the distance and taking the opportunity to make the first move.
Our lips mesh together, working against each other slowly. His hand moves to my jaw, fingers resting against the nape of my neck as we kiss like it’s the only thing we know how to do. He pulls away and places a few quick pecks on my lips before diving back in, moving both hands to my hips. He pulls me closer and I take the hint, throwing a leg over him and straddling his lap, never disconnecting our lips. His big hands roam my body, squeezing and grabbing hungrily as he swipes his tongue over my bottom lip. I open my mouth and our tongues synchronize, exploring the parts we’ve both secretly longed for. The kiss is both passionate and filled with lust, low moans breathed into each other’s mouths.
He pulls back and scans my face, his pupils rapidly dilating as he drags his gaze down to my chest. My nipples have caught up with my arousal, becoming taut against the fabric of my tank top. He brings his mouth down and places a kiss on each one through my shirt, a whine escaping my lips at the sensation. He reaches up and places a tender kiss to the burn on my chest, careful not to be too rough.
His hands trail up my hips before moving up and pulling down on the neckline of my top, my breasts spilling out inches from his face.
“So perfect.” He whispers against my skin while placing kisses spanning across my chest.
My head falls back and I grip into his soft hair, pulling on it and earning a low groan. His tongue circles my left nipple before he latches onto it, sucking slowly as his blue eyes lock onto mine. I push his hair out of his forehead as he switches to the other nipple, flicking his tongue across it before sucking a little more harshly.
I can feel him growing beneath me, his erection pressing against my clothed core. I instinctively grind down against it, causing his lips to stall on my nipple and a low moan to escape his throat. He bucks up for more, his throbbing dick providing a delicious pressure against me. His hands leave my body and he pulls his shirt off, leaning back on his hands, propped up and staring at me intently. His defined torso is etched out in the light, a sheen of sweat over his skin despite the cool night air.
“Fuck.. just keep grinding… please.” He pleads, squirming his hips.
I do as I’m told, my hands reaching up to pull my own tank top over my head as I move back and forth on him. I reach down and run my fingers across his stomach, the rippling muscles tensing beneath my fingers as I circle my hips. His face contorts with pleasure, his chest rising and falling rapidly. I can’t help the little whimpers that fall past my lips, my core now dripping with need. The layers of clothing between us do nothing to stop the feeling of his rock hard erection against my clit.
“Nathan.. I need it.” I pant and start loosening the tie on his sweatpants.
“Stand up baby. Let me undress you.” He demands as he guides me to my feet and sits up on the edge of the mattress.
My stomach flutters at the new pet name and at the fact that his lips are now placing hot kisses across the tender fleshy skin. He inches lower, lips grazing against my waistband as he hooks his fingers into them. He looks up at me again with a questioning look, almost as if asking me to confirm I want this for a final time. I nod furiously and he slowly inches the shorts down until they pool around my ankles. He traces the fabric of my underwear lightly before pulling them down, my body now completely exposed in the soft light of my reading lamp. He removes his own pants and boxers in one motion, his dick springing up and a whine falling past his lips at the freeing feeling.
“Now get back on,” he says while resuming his propped up position, “I like seeing your tits in my face.”
The dirty words make my stomach flip. I climb back on top of him, my dripping pussy sliding up across his length, my core clenching in response. I repeat it a few times, gripping onto his shoulders as I slide back and forth across his cock feeling every vein running across its surface. He grips his base with one hand as I lift up, lining himself up with my entrance. I sink down, feeling my walls stretch around him as I take him inch by inch.
“So tight, fuck..” he groans, hips stuttering and resisting the urge to shove all the way into me.
“Y-you’re so big, Nathan.” I whimper, pain turning into pleasure as I begin to loosen up and sink completely down.
“Don’t flatter me, baby.” He smirks and brings a thumb to his mouth, licking it and bringing it down to rub my clit.
I moan out and immediately stop myself, worried about waking the boys who are just a couple thin fabric walls away from us. Nate shushes me and rubs back and forth tantalizingly slow, his pressure rough. I start to bounce up and down on him, gripping onto the arm that’s still propping himself up. The muscles are flexed and hard, and his tanned skin is clammy beneath my fingertips.
His finger leaves my clit and reaches up to pinch my nipple, rolling and tugging on it as I ride him. We’re both panting and holding back our sounds, swallowing them down before they have the chance to escape. His eyes are fully blown out as he bites onto his lip.
“N-Nathan please.. touch me again.” I whisper, sinking down to take all of him back inside and rolling my hips.
“You like when I play with your clit?” He asks with a smug grin before bringing his thumb back down, rubbing faster this time.
“U-uh.. mhm… fuck.” I can barely form words, the pleasure making my brain cloudy.
My thighs burn as I bounce up and down, feeling his swollen tip brush against my walls with every movement. He starts to buck his hips up along with my movements, pushing himself impossibly deep into my core. I taste iron in my mouth as I bite onto my bottom lip, desperate to keep my moans contained. A pressure is building in my lower stomach as he toys with me, his index finger inching its way to my clit to roll it between his thumb.
In the blink of an eye he’s on top of me, his chain dangling over my face. He hooks one of his arms around my thigh and pushes it up against my stomach, the other sprawled out to the side. His other arm props himself up above me, his veins lining his arms and straining underneath his skin.
He pushes into me and curses fall out of his mouth as he begins to pump in and out. His hips slap against my skin rhythmically, my breasts bouncing with each impact. Each thrust brings me closer to the edge as head brushes repeatedly against my g spot.
“I’m close, baby. F-fuck.. wanna cum in you so bad..” he groans, his head falling down into my neck.
I lean over and hover my lips by his ear. “Please, Nathan..” I almost beg, my pussy starting to clench around him already.
My pleas send him over the edge, his dick twitching as he shoots his load into me. He pushes all the way in as he paints my walls, and the sensation brings me to my own climax. My stomach clenches as I throb around him, his name falling out of my lips over and over. We moan out together as we ride through our releases, my hands clawing down his back as I arch up off the bed against him. He falls down on top of me, my breath hitching at the feeling of his dick sliding out, still so sensitive from my climax.
“Oh my god.” He pants out as he rolls over to lay down beside me.
My head is swimming and my entire body is pulsing. I look over and place a soft kiss against his lips, too tired to even think about talking right now.
We lay together for a while, drinking in the bliss and caressing each other with soft hands. He eventually gets up to rummage through my bags, finding a pack of baby wipes. He tenderly cleans me up before grabbing a new one and cleans himself off. We redress and he plops back down into the mattress.
“As much as I would love to sleep in here..” he starts, leaving the statement open ended.
“I know. It’s okay.” I smile and pull him closer, brushing the hair out of his eyes.
He melts against me and cuddles against my chest. Time feels slow as we listen to the babbling creek and the crickets chirping in the woods.
A different kind of chirping causes me to shoot my eyes open, panic flooding in as I see the light through the tent and Nate’s chest rising and falling underneath my blanket. I hit his chest and he jumps, his eyes flying open and the same panicked look written across his face.
“What are we gonna do?” I whisper, rubbing my hands across my face.
“Hey.” He grabs my hands, pulling them away from my face. “I’ll just sneak into my tent and go to sleep next to Nick like I was supposed to.”
I nod frantically and lay down, faking sleep as he presses a kiss against my hair and hurries to undo the zipper on the door.
“Fuck.” He mumbles.
“What, Nathan?” I sit up, scanning around to see what he’s so worried about.
To our surprise, all three boys sit around the fire pit with a flame already blazing, cups of hot chocolate in their hands as they smirk and laugh over at us.
“You guys have fun last night?”
tag list: @lustfulslxt @whotfisade @soursturniolo @recklesssturniolo @lxvlysworld @chrisolivia4l @kiarastromboli @mattnchrisworld @cupidsword @kvtie444 @xplrfear @knowingnothingnoel @karlybbx @chrisfavoritepepsi @mwah0mwah @starsturniolo
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bitchimasnake-sss · 4 months
Note
pLEASE if you could write more of sub!OP men you would feed me for the entire winter (or just more luffy begging if it's no problem to you, love ur writing xoxo)
sorry for answering back so late i was absolutely out of any and all creative juice (lord help me), but i love writing sub!OP men and you guys seem to like it so here we go!! (im supposed to be on hiatus to focus on exams but writing smut never hurt nobody)
"i want to watch you fall apart, baby" ft. luffy <3
ft. (very submissive) luffy x (somewhat dom) fem!reader
set-up: you made a bet with the captain and he lost, now he has an aphrodisiac in his system and you have an insanely submissive boyfriend ;)
warnings: nsfw drabbles; nsfw stuff includes overstimulation, dirty talk, a bit of a meanie!reader, sub!luffy, all that haha; MDNI (thankyou very much)
luffy:
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^^ credits to the artist!! (found it on pinterest lol)
- you knew monkey d. luffy wasn't okay - it was evident from his strained breaths, reddening face and jittery body - "luffy, you okay?" your words were sickly sweet, cutting through the tension in the room as you looked at his sweet face - it was honestly a miracle he was even sitting still and not pulling you and hovering over you as he fucked you senseless - "ugh" he groaned, palming his borderline-painful erection, "pl-ease come on, please come fuck me" you tut, making a sympathetic face, "i thought we were going to see how long you can hold back?" "yn~" his head is thrown back, features pleading with you helplessly - a smirk crosses over your painted lips, taking in his disheveled self - the menacing captain of your crew was reduced to a animalistic state. his fingers barely skimmed over his pants and even the slightest touch seemed to ignite his skin on fire "yn please, pl-ease c'mere-" his voice was strained, as if he was holding every muscle in his being from pulling you towards him and fucking you senseless till he forgot where he ended and you began - good thing luffy was always quick to react - so he did just what he had been imagining for the past seven minutes; he pulled you towards himself, reeling you in till your chest was flush against his and you teeth scraped harshly against your lips - "lu-" all your attempts to stop him were swallowed by his hungry kisses; tongue lapping against yours, teeth pulling your lip down, spit threatening to dive past his lips - his mouth moved down to your jaw then to your neck, leaving sloppy kisses in its wake, "yn let me fuck you, please. please." - his hands ripped off your t-shirt and his teeth sunk down on the soft flesh across your chest. he hummed against your skin, as if relishing in the softness and the faint citric aftertaste lingering on your skin - he was going insane, harshly tugging on your nipples and pressing his face between the valley of your breasts, licking feverish stripes down, "i wanna fuck so bad, keep going till you beg me to stop, come on please" "re-really? you wanna? what do you- fuck, fu-" - without even lifting his mouth off of your sensitive nipple or opening his eyes, his hands forced yours to skim over his straining cock as if to accuse you, look what you fuckin' did to me - when your hands languidly palmed him, his face contorted till he was gasping and grinding against your shallowest touches - "don't play with me, baby, y'know-" his breath hitched when you increased the pressure and pressed down harder, "yn stop it" you laughed, a cocky sound, "what's wrong luffy?" - his eyes were wide open now, staring you down and as if he had lost of sense of himself, he growled as he turned you around so that you were face down, ass up. - a harsh smack reverberated against your ass and you moaned at the subtle sting, "i've been nice f' too long, huh? let's see how long you stay cocky with my dick down your pretty pussy."
a/n: i have another ask for the sub!op men and i was out of ideas so the others (including ace and shanks hehe) will be well compensated over there!! just hold on guys!!!
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macfrog · 7 months
Text
ace sex on fire chapter six
this entire chapter is me making up for 1. the golfing line in chapter two, and 2. joel's entire experience of tlou2. naughty dog i'm waiting for ur response. 24 hours to reply
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pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader
summary: joel takes you on a day trip to go golfing. it turns out to be more fun than you expected
warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) golf. idk what else to say. age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalanced power dynamic, more sugardaddy!joel, discussions of pregnancy + reader perhaps not wanting children, sort of possessive!joel?, praise kink, unprotected piv car sex, daddy kink, exhibitionist fantasy, creampie, more teasing + flirting, angst + pining, alcohol consumption, cursing
word count: 9.7k
series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist
“Good girl. He there?” The image of Daniel flits across your vision, bright blue eyes trained on you. He looks…intrigued, and stunned. He’s not breaking his stare. “Mhm,” you say again, and start to lift off of Joel. “He watching?” “Y-eah,” you choke out, bouncing steadily. “Put on a show for ‘im, pretty girl. Show him what you do for me.”
The cab squeaks to a halt right outside the office, dropping you at the bottom of the concrete steps leading up to the revolving door. There are already bodies filtering in and out of the building, despite how early it is.
You thank the driver – Mick, you’ve come to learn. He seems to run this route on weekday mornings; it’s always him who shows up at your apartment when you can’t be bothered to walk to work, or miss the damn bus. Mick tosses a thumbs up over his shoulder and you swing out into the brilliant sun.
It’s Thursday. You’ve been home sixty-five hours, by your count. Joel gave you a couple days after landing stateside to catch up on sleep, readjust. He’d gone back to work Tuesday morning, though, 8AM sharp. Martha had text to ask where you were, and had sent six laughing emojis back when you replied with, How the fuck is he back already?
You make the climb up the steps, back to work, back to normality. It drags like a weight at your heels, the thought of returning to that gray office after three days wandering around picture-perfect, painted-pink Paris. After three days of Joel.
That split-open feeling, the cavity between your ribs – it’s sewn itself up since you got back to your own apartment, your own space. Since you showered a couple times, washed your clothes, started smelling like yourself again instead of Joel. Its sutures are made from the sound of the subway squealing to a halt, the smell of Chinese takeout from the place across the street.
But there’s a tiny piece of you, small enough to stay hidden from even yourself sometimes, that you know misses it. Misses…him. It only hurts when you touch it – the sewn-up scar, messy in your frantic attempts to close it up – it aches when you remember his hands on your waist whenever you wanted them there, his lips below your ear whenever you needed him.
As you approach the glass doors, you hear a whistle from behind, and turn to watch Joel slip out of his Rolls and jog up the steps. There’s a sports bag hanging from his left hand.
“Am I a dog?” you ask when he reaches you.
“It was an endearin’ whistle.”
“Very endearing. Don’t do it again.”
He nods once. “Yes, ma’am. Feelin’ awake yet?”
“Almost.” You follow him into the building, clicking along the polished marble floor at his side. “You didn’t waste any time getting back into the swing of things, I hear.”
You both nod good morning to the receptionists, and Joel hits the button to call the elevator.
“I’m an important man, baby,” he says, shrugging. “My job ain’t just answerin’ the phone ‘n making coffee.”
You scoff, slapping his back as he leads you through the sliding doors, which closer over and shut you both into your first moment of privacy in almost seventy hours. Joel immediately turns to face you, words behind his eyes that he can’t seem to sort into a coherent sentence.
In what you hear as an attempt to summarize, he says: “Back to reality.”
You brush the shoulders of his blazer, tug on his tie to straighten it. It’s the most you can bring yourself to do that doesn’t involve throwing yourself at him. There’s a throbbing right below your chest, like a magnet tugging you towards the man stood in front of you. Touching the padded shoulder of his suit will have to do. For now.
You lift your eyebrows, staring at the knot of his tie. “Yep.”
It’s pretty reductive, Back to reality. But then, what else is there to say? What else that wasn’t said between your bodies in Paris? A line was crossed there – you both went somewhere you can’t come back from so easily. And moving forward the way you had been before, seems equally as impossible.
There are eyes on you here. There are people who care to know what might be going on – whether they like it or not doesn’t matter. No more strutting out onto the terrace, running your hands all over one another, connecting skin and tongue in ways you wouldn’t have dreamt up two weeks ago.
No. This stays secret. A secret between you, Joel, and the French skies.
Joel places a hand on the small of your back as the elevator doors whip open. He ushers you out, and then, once in view of Martha’s desk, sidesteps to an appropriate distance.
“Welcome back,” your colleague greets you as you approach her desk. “Missed you, kid.”
You smile coyly. “Thanks,” you mumble. Guilt isn’t the easiest of emotions to hide.
Joel taps your arm gently and then nods towards his office. “Catch-up,” he says, and Martha rounds her desk to follow after him.
You drop your jacket and purse over the back of your chair and slip in behind them, leaning back on one of Joel’s leather couches with your arms crossed.
“Alright,” Martha sighs, “few things needing done this morning. First…”
You take a deep breath and slump down until your ass sits comfortably on the couch cushion, your knees draped over the arm, cradled inside your elbows.
Joel notices, and smirks to himself. He dials into his voicemail, hits a button, and a familiar voice echoes from his desk.
“Hey, Joel,” Drew’s voice says, “hope you enjoyed Paris ‘n aren’t still too hungover. I know what Jean-Marc’s like…”
Martha moves to the next bullet point, tilting her pad and tapping the tip of her pen to some messy scrawling you can’t read. You nod, eyes flitting up to watch Joel.
“Just wanted to check in and make sure you’re still good for later. S’posed to be a good day for it. Let me know if you need any help with directions. Alright. Looking forward to seeing you two soon. Cool.”
The machine cuts. Joel sits back in his chair, rests his heels on the wood in front of him. Black, shiny, ridiculously expensive shoes crossed over on top of a black, shiny, ridiculously expensive desk.
“…now, Ken needs to receive this as soon as possible, alright? I said I’d have it done by end of day yesterday – I did not, so I need you to –”
“Who’s you two?” you ask Joel, peering over Martha’s notepad.
He looks up, tossing a rubber band ball in his hands. “You ‘n me, darlin’.”
“I’m sorry,” Martha declares, “am I talking to myself–?”
You push her notepad out of your view, still staring at Joel. “What do you mean, you ‘n me?”
Martha drops her hands with a sigh. You repeat your question.
“Us,” Joel says, hint of irritation in his voice like you’re supposed to be in on something. “We’re goin’ golfing with him.”
“We’re going golfing?”
Martha, now exasperated, swings the pad under her bicep and crosses her arms over her chest, makes something of a growling noise. “You two are unbeliev…Are you listening to me?” she demands, clicking her fingers in front of you.
“No,” you reply simply, eyes locked on Joel’s.
His lips curve with a soft laugh. “You ain’t read your emails?” he asks.
Your head darts between him and Martha. Bewildered. “I was catching up on sleep, thank you very much,” you assert, nodding with finality at the blonde updo hovering over you.
You know she cares about you – at least enough to water your monstera deliciosa while you were gone – but Martha can be sharp; her outspokenness is something to admire and to fear, in one small five-foot-three frame.
She snorts, glancing over to Joel with a disbelieving shake of her head, but he doesn’t take her up on it. Just looks at her blankly and then turns back to you.
“We’re meeting Drew up at Aspen Heights. Few of his buddies are in town, he wanted to introduce ‘em to me.”
“And I’m coming – why?”
“Because he met you last week, musta liked you, ‘n he invited you.”
Your mouth opens to reply, some retort to bring into question the need for your presence at a fucking round of golf, when Joel and his words cut yours short in your throat.
“And I want you there with me.”
Martha raises her eyebrows when you look up at her. The thing is: this all seems very normal, from her perspective. You did such a good job at keeping Joel right in Paris, didn’t you? He made his flight there on time, he met with Jean-Marc without a hitch, and he was actually an hour early for his flight home.
That last part was because you’d woken up with the sun and couldn’t get back to sleep, so you woke him, too and…well. Kept each other busy until you physically couldn’t anymore. There wasn’t much point hanging around in the hotel suite when your cases were packed and your bodies were…fragile, so you left for the airport.
To her ignorant eyes – and bless her – this is all just networking. It’s you building work relationships, Joel at the helm overseeing everything and setting it all up for you. This is clear – that that’s all she thinks – when she says:
“He’s doin’ you a favor, sweetheart. You should go.”
“I don’t even have any golfing gear. I’m in suit trousers.” Your eyes trail down your black pinstripe pants, legs dangling from the arm of the couch.
“And you look fantastic,” Joel quips, though you know he’s half-serious, “but you do gotta find somethin’ more…” he waves a hand, “…golf.”
“Something more golf. That’s helpful.”
“Here,” he says, stretching into his back pocket. His hips lift from the seat of his chair, and your eyes land on the space just south of his belt buckle. He pulls his credit card from his wallet – the same one you could probably recite the numbers of by heart at this point – and holds it out. “Go grab somethin’ nice. My treat.”
My treat. Like he didn’t treat you all damn weekend.
You pull yourself up and take the card from his fingers.
“’n what about my list?” Martha asks.
Joel shrugs. “Ken can wait one more day. You got two hours,” he tells you, and then sits up straight, rubber band ball placed safely next to his Newton’s cradle. “I’ll have Rand take you.”
You follow Martha out of Joel’s office when his phone starts ringing and his head falls into his hands, letting you both know it’s not a call you want to be around to hear. As he lifts the handset, he lightly calls your name, and you exchange a sly smirk as you slip out the door.
Martha wanders off behind her own desk as you pull your purse over your shoulder. She loads her computer back up, chin lifting as she squints through her glasses at the screen.
“There’s a golf shop downtown,” she tells you, two index fingers tapping away on the keys. “Alan uses ‘em. Don’t think they’re too expensive, either. Wouldn’t know for sure, though, he spends so damn much anytime he’s in there.”
You watch her for a moment, nodding along. “Thanks, Martha.”
She holds up a finger as you walk past her desk toward the elevator. “Remember you still got my to-do list to tackle, so don’t be long!”
----------
Rand drops you on a quiet side street. He gives you his number, tells you to text him once you’re done, and the sleek black car rolls off.
On the corner sits Ace’s Pro Golf, a small, charming store, peeling wooden front painted fern green with golf-themed decals decorating the windows. You set off inside, passing under two transparent putters crossed over one another on the window above the door. An old brass bell rings out from overhead when you enter.
Its exterior is misleading. This store is huge. Overwhelmingly huge. Walls stacked with bags, clubs dangling from pegs. Baskets of balls and tees and other accessories dotted all over the creaky wooden floors, which are lined with racks upon racks of golfing clothes – shirts, trousers, dresses, skirts.
“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, edging towards the rails.
You slip between them, hand running along the multicolored choices, when your phone starts to ring, vibrating somewhere deep in your purse.
“Hey, Mom,” you mutter, slipping your cell between your cheek and your shoulder as you begin to search through the shirts in front of you.
“Hey, baby,” her voice sings to you. “Wasn’t expecting to catch you, thought you’d already be at work. Where you at?”
You sigh. “I’m shopping. Joel’s taking me golfing later.”
She almost chokes down the line. “Golfing?”
“Yeah. It’s this friend he went to school with, I met him at lunch last week. There’s a few of ‘em going, so he asked me along, too.”
“Nice guy. So, you’re shopping for an outfit?”
“Mhm.”
“Any…dress code?”
“Dress code?” You straighten up, switching the phone to your other ear. “Like, golfing gear? I dunno.”
She laughs. “Alright.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing! Nothing, baby.”
“Meant something, Mom. Tell me.”
“No, I just…” She sighs. “You’re sure this isn’t, like…It sounds an awful lot like a date. Like, you’re going on Joel’s arm.”
You’re silent. You suck in a deep breath, fixing an order of words in reply, when your mom cuts in again.
“I bet I’m way off. Forget I said anything.”
“Yeah, gross,” you refute, metal hangers squealing against the rail when you unfreeze. “No. Not a date. It’s, like, networking, or whatever.”
Mom snorts. “Right. Exactly.”
“Not – a date,” you repeat.
You’re relieved when she changes the subject. “Show me what you’re looking at.”
You huff, pulling the phone down and switching to FaceTime. In a second, your mom’s bright, swollen cheeks and ringlet curled hair are on the screen, and she flashes you a pearly smile.
“Was thinking maybe this…?” You angle the phone to show her a navy-blue polo shirt. “And then a white skirt?”
“Nah,” she cuts, and you flip your camera back to your face.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Too blue. You look better in neutrals. Try beige or brown. Boring colors, y’know? Blend into the walls.”
You hiss something she doesn’t need to hear under your breath and then follow it up with a slightly more polite, “Screw you.”
Her image on your screen shakes violently with how hard she laughs at herself. “I’m messing with you. You know you’ll look beautiful no matter what you choose. Wait a second, though – can you even golf?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever touched a golf club in my life.”
“Thought as much. Does Joel know you’re about to embarrass him like this?”
“He’s aware.”
“Please get him to take some videos. I gotta see this.”
“You know what,” you grumble, holding back your own laughter now, “I’m hanging up. You just solidified your place in the nursing home, you know that?”
She’s still laughing, words pushing through her cackles in desperate punches. “Wait, wait! I gotta tell you why I called you.”
“Alright, go. Thirty seconds.”
“Riley’s pregnant.”
Your face screws up. Lips curl upside down into a grimace. “Oof. Good…good for her…?”
Your mom throws her head back with a roar of laughter. “Be more enthusiastic about it. A little niece or nephew for you!”
“’s more like a…second cousin, or whatever. I bet Aunt Rose is over the moon.”
“She called me screaming this morning. I just thought you’d like to hear, being that you’re in a permanent state of baby fever.”
“Ha,” you state, blank expression never changing. It causes her to erupt into another fit of giggles. “That’s nice, I guess. For Riley. Tell her I said congrats.”
“I will. And I’ll leave out the part where you almost threw up. Alright, I’ll let you go. Good luck golfing. Come back with a hot millionaire boyfriend, maybe! Love you!”
“Yep. ‘kay. Love you. Love you, too – ‘kay – bye – bye, Mom.”
You hang up mid-laugh and her caramel cheeks disappear from the screen. You drop your phone back into your purse and slot the navy-blue polo under your arm, spinning to the rail behind you to find a skirt to go with it.
Riley, pregnant. That’s fucking insane. You two used to spend entire summers riding your bikes around your hometown, spending all of your allowance down at the mall. You swear you’re not old enough to have babies yet. Swear you’re not even old enough to be out of Mom’s house, living on your own in the city.
But then here you are, five years in, making a mental note to buy a baby gift for your cousin, on top of the pre-existing ones reminding you to message that girl who lived across the street when you were kids to say, Congrats on your engagement, and pick up a new home card for your two friends who are on their third mortgage.
Your mom finds it funny – always has. The instant repulsion you feel, the way you recoil whenever you’re asked about kids, about a partner, about a three-bed-two-bath in the suburbs with a big yard and good school nearby.
You don't think any of it's for you. And that’s fine, and every time you skate over the topic, your mom tells you it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s –
“Can I help you, ma’am?”
“Oh,” you snap out of your daydream, clutching a white skirt in your hands, “sorry. I’m sorry. No, I’m good, thanks. Sorry.”
The assistant smiles kindly and nods. Then he spins on his heel and waltzes off, disappearing behind a cardboard cutout of a golfer mid-swing.
It’s not lost on you, by the way – what your mom said. Sounds an awful lot like a date. You’d be lying if you said it hadn’t also crossed your mind. Joel, wanting you there with him. Giving you his card to buy somethin’ nice, which, after the last week, you translate roughly as: something I’ll like. Something he’ll see, and his second thought will be ripping it off your body.
His first thought will be what you’d look like taking it off for him.
And for that reason, you slip the short skirt under your arm beside the polo, and head across the store to find some more stuff to waste Joel’s money on.
----------
Rand pulls up by the curb a few yards down from Ace’s, where you’re sat on a bench enjoying an ice cream. He rolls the window down and lowers his black sunglasses.
“You bein’ paid for this?” he asks, grinning.
You nod, gleeful. “By the hour. Want an ice cream?”
He snorts when you hold Joel’s black card up between two fingers, tilting it in the sunlight. And then he puts the car in park, climbs out, and jaunts over to the ice cream cart by your bench.
He orders a three-scoop cone, and you nod in approval when he sits down alongside you, unbuttoning his suit jacket.
“Respect it,” you say, cheersing your own half-finished cone against his.
----------
When you get back to work, Joel’s already changed into a crisp, clean golfing outfit. It weakens your knees a little when you saunter into his office.
A long-sleeved, dark polo shirt that shows off every curve and flex of his toned arms, paired with gray, just-tight-enough trousers. And pristine white shoes so sharp and clean you’d swear he’d had them polished just for the occasion.
You ignore the way your head lightens at the sight of him and throw yourself into the chair to his right, white back from Ace’s falling between your ankles.
“Alright, Tom, thanks for lettin’ me know,” he says, arms folded, sat back against his desk. He leans back, places the phone back in its cradle, and looks you up and down. “Have fun?”
You shrug, leaning forward to pick a piece of lint from his thigh. “Didn’t know what to get for the most part, so there’s probably stuff I don’t need in there.”
He squints down at his cell phone. “Like, uh…Duke’s Scoops?”
You stare back at him, mirroring his cheeky smirk. Your leg swings, arms cross over your chest, covering the way your breath falters. He’s seen the transactions.
“You gonna grudge me three dollars on an ice cream, Miller?”
“Six fifty,” he mutters, glancing down at his phone again to double check. His tongue runs across his top lip. You want to replace it with yours. “So…that’s at least two ice creams, pretty girl.”
“It’s a hot day. Rand deserved something to cool down. We sat on a bench in the shade ‘n had a nice chat. He taught me how to swing. Verbally,” you add, when Joel’s eyebrows lift.
“Taught you how to swing,” he echoes, and you nod.
“Did you know he used to compete? Junior league?”
He pouts his bottom lip. “Mighta come up in the, what, fifteen years since I met him?”
You beam in reply, standing up and hooking your fingers through the string handles of your shopping bag. “I’m gonna go get changed now.”
“Could just get changed in the car on the way, ‘s a thirty-minute drive.”
You lean in close, eyes flitting over to Martha’s desk to make sure she’s not watching. Your lips brush softly against his ear. “I don’t wanna take any time away from other stuff we could get up to,” you murmur, and Joel’s hand locks around yours, attempting to pull you back as you skip off.
“Be right back,” you call, letting the door fall shut on his suggestive smirk, his tight trousers, and the hard bulge beneath them.
You return five minutes later in your getup. Joel has much the same reaction as you did with him, though he’s not half as good at hiding it. He sits upright in his chair, fingers tight around the armrests.
“Uhuh,” he says, eyes diving to your legs and then resurfacing somewhere around your chest. “Let me just –” he leans over to his phone, “– call Drew, let ‘im know we ain’t comin’…”
“Shut up,” you scoff. “Looks good, though, right?”
Joel’s eyes are still trained on your bare thighs, one crossed over the other. “Looks…better than good.”
You bat your eyelashes. “Still mad about the ice cream?”
“No, ma’am. Not mad at all.”
He stands, slinging both his bag and yours over his shoulder, and walks around his desk to meet you. You give him one final warning.
“You know I’ve never played golf before, right?”
“I know,” he affirms.
“So…bringing me is kinda pointless. I am not gonna bring anything worthwhile.”
“You in that outfit,” Joel mutters – and as he passes by, he makes sure to brush his swollen crotch up against your ass – “makes it worthwhile already.”
----------
Aspen Heights is a hundred and fifty-acre course, vibrant green fairways rolling over hilly land laid out like crinkles in a sheet of green felt. Rand drives slowly up to the clubhouse, gravel crackling under the tires of the Rolls as you and Joel lean over to stare at the landscape – the unkempt, sprawling wild plants guarding the pristine course, the bunkers like giant splotches of white paint on the grass.
You turn back and look to Joel, brows knitting in an expression which could be translated as amazement, could be intrigue, or could simply be: What the fuck are we doing here?
He mirrors it, shaking his head. And it makes you laugh.
“What?” he asks, smiling.
“You could buy this place, easy. Don’t act like you don’t fit in.”
“If you think I fit in here,” he grunts, getting out of the now parked car, “you think very highly of me, angel.”
He doesn’t deny that he could afford to buy it.
The clubhouse is…much the same. Huge, grand, surrounded by a wide-open porch and fronted by a dome-shaped room, paneled by windows that reflect the scene before them.
You follow Joel’s lead, climbing the steps to the double doors by his side, staying close enough that he can guide you with a bump of his arm against yours, but far enough apart that it doesn’t look like you’re showing up together.
Inside, you follow two smartly-dressed attendants through to a room finished in dark oak, shining wooden floors under bare-bulb light figures, a solid marble bar in the center and six perfectly symmetrical high tables surrounding it.
You glance nervously around the room. Drew’s stood over by the windows with three other men – a tan guy with a white baseball cap on, fluorescent orange polo buttoned up to his neck, a shorter guy with tight black curls, fiddling with the cap of a bottle of water, and finally, a guy with dark hair combed within an inch of its life into perfect place, shoulders almost ripping through his blue polo. He looks like he’s been copy-pasted straight from a magazine called Golf Weekly, or something.
Joel takes one step across a patterned rug and Drew notices you both. He breaks off from the group.
“Hey, man.” He grins at Joel and leans over to shake his hand – well, it’s more of that slap-hand thing. They slap each other’s palms, fingers lock, one quick shake of the wrists together, and then a nod of the head. You know?
Then he leans over to you, kisses your cheek. “Sorry it’s just us guys,” he says, hand on your arm. He looks over to the three men by the window, now looking out over the course and pointing. “My girlfriend was supposed to be joining us, but she got called in to work. You two woulda gotten along, you ‘n Rach.”
You smile warmly. “That’s okay. Thanks for asking me.”
“You play much?” Drew asks, leading you both over to the windows.
You shake your head and Joel breathes a laugh.
“Total beginner,” you admit.
Drew bats a hand. “We’ll show you the ropes. This is, uh, this is Steve,” he points to Fluorescent Orange, “Caleb,” Water Bottle holds his hand out to shake yours, “and that’s Daniel.”
Up close, Daniel’s handsome. Sharp jawline, shadowed by the beginnings of stubble, a dimple in the center of his chin. He steps forward, holding a hand out, and you take it. His palm engulfs yours and squeezes – soft but sure. And then you pull away.
The men all nod to Joel, who probably nods back from behind you, and then catches you gently in his arm, cradling it around your back out of view of the others.
“We’ll be getting started soon,” Drew says, “they’re just fixing up a few buggies for us.”
Joel nods, lets go of you, and crosses his arms. You knot your hands awkwardly at your waist. He stays right by your side, though, which you’re grateful for. The last thing you need is another Jean-Marc, some cloaked assistant swooping you off away from the comfort of Joel.
“How’s business, Joel? Drew was tellin’ us about some deal you’re tryna nail.”
Daniel’s eyes are sharp, cerulean blue drilling deep into the warm brown of Joel’s, which calmly stare back. He looks a little younger than Joel, maybe on the cusp of forty, only a few light strands of grey through his deep brown fringe. There’s no wedding ring on his finger. You don’t know why you’re even looking at that.
Joel doesn’t reveal much in the way of answers. Typical of him – or typical of the Joel he is to the rest of the world. “Yeah, ‘s good. Just takin’ my time, we’re workin’ on it.”
Daniel nods, maybe a little too enthusiastically. He crosses his arms, biceps bulging, and then rounds on you.
“You gotta be run off your feet, chasing after him all day, huh?”
You tilt your head toward Joel. “He keeps me busy, yeah.”
Daniel leans into you, laughter crooning from his lips. It wobbles you a little, forces you one step nearer Joel’s side. You smile back, as pleasant as you can muster the courage, and he eventually leans away.
Before he can ask another question, Drew’s calling you all over to the sliding patio doors. Daniel hops back a step, nods to you, and says, “After you.”
“Thanks, Dan,” Joel cuts, stepping into the space the blue-eyed man had left specifically for you, sweeping you off as he goes.
----------
There isn’t anything about golf that intrigues you. Not even remotely. You’ve never watched it, never wanted to play it – the most you’ve dabbled in it is minigolf, and even that became a fucking bore after two anniversary dates in a row there with Blake.
Still, you watch patiently and politely as the men take their shots one by one, starting with Drew, all the way through to Daniel, who gives his driver a quick shine with a gloved hand before stepping up. On your left, Joel scoffs quietly to himself.
Daniel swings back, and his biceps swell under the tight sleeves of his shirt. You watch as his arms follow through, sending the ball hurtling through the air and well past its three predecessors.
Joel nudges your elbow.
“Ow,” you mumble, running a hand over the skin.
He gives you a perplexed look. “I said, you can use my clubs. You in there?”
“Yeah,” you reply, a little too defensively. “Just…paying attention.”
“Hm.”
The men on your right groan as Daniel strides back over to join them, a satisfied grin across his face. Your eyes trace him as he leans on his driver, one white pant leg crossing over the other.
When you turn back to the tee box, Joel’s lifting his own club from his bag. His broad, muscled shoulders flex under the dark material of his shirt; his tall figure walks over to the tee, delicate fingers dancing along the handle of the club, and he clears his throat.
And suddenly, the memory of Daniel and his stupid biceps is dust in the wind.
Joel takes, like, half a practice swing. Doesn’t even have to aim, not really. Just pulls his arms back, sucks his waist in, and goes for it.
His ball lands a couple meters ahead of Daniel’s. And you wonder when the fuck golf became this sexy.
He turns back and runs his tongue over his top lip, breathing a little heavy. The sight drives you fucking insane for the second time today. And then he’s smiling at you, jerking his head in a gesture for you to join him.
You step forward, a little shy, a little hot, and wander mutely over to him.
“I got you,” he says, and reaches for your wrist.
You move to take the driver from his hand and Joel clicks his teeth, shaking his head.
“Said I got you,” he utters, and pulls your body into his, shelling around you. His beard scratches lightly against your ear.
“Joel,” you whisper, laughing nervously and tossing a quick glance back over to the men standing just feet away. Drew just said something apparently hilarious. Caleb gives him a solid whack on the shoulder and doubles over laughing. Steve’s watching a butterfly float by.
“They ain’t watchin’,” Joel says, curving his arms around yours and fixing your hands on the handle of the club. “s just you ‘n me.”
You wriggle under his grasp and feel the hum of laughter from his chest between your shoulders, the weight of his belt riding on your ass. Your cheeks heat when his chin rests on your collarbone.
“Alright,” he says, hands tightening around your own. “You’re gonna line it up, stand with your legs a little apart, little more…”
The toe of his shoe taps your heel and you widen your stance.
“Good girl,” he whispers. A pulse shakes through your body. “Now, on your backswing, you’re gonna want your left shoulder under your chin, ‘n your hands above your right shoulder. Yeah?”
“Got it,” you mumble, so unconvincing that it makes you laugh after you’ve said it.
He gives your waist a tiny squeeze and steps back, watching as you carefully lift the club and curve it around your shoulders. You hear him from behind.
“’attagirl. Keep your knees bent, you got it.”
You take one good swing, and hit the ball on your first try, but it’s…it’s bad, for sure. It’s pretty terrible. The ball lands on this side of the fairway, muddled in amongst the longer grass of the rough. But it’s your first ever shot – least not with colored balls and spinning windmills in the way – and so when you turn back to Joel with a huge beam across your lips, your expression is reflected in his.
“Good job!” he chuckles, stalking back over to you.
“Good job,” you echo with a laugh, handing him the club. You twist and hold your hand up to shield your eyes, staring down the course. “Look where it is, ‘n look where yours are.”
He glances back over to where your sad little ball sits. “We’ll get a few drinks down those guys,” he whispers, hand on your back. “See how good they are in a few holes’ time.”
----------
You’re back in the clubhouse after finishing the eighteenth hole on something of a high. Joel managed to worsen the accuracy of your competitors only so much – your end of the deal was to improve as the round went on, which you try to argue you technically did, given that you began to land your shots on the fairway around hole seven, but your argument is let down by Joel’s reminder that, on hole thirteen, he had to dig your ball out of the bunker for you.
“And I am eternally grateful to you for agreeing to never fucking talk about it again,” you say through gritted teeth, and he laughs.
“Last time, promise.”
Drew joins the pair of you at your table and slaps an arm down on Joel’s shoulder.
“Your round, asshole.”
Joel grumbles, gives your elbow a cursory tap, and slides off to the bar. Drew takes his seat, nudges your arm.
“I am impressed,” he tells you, slurring his words a little.
“Yeah?” you ask, and he nods. “I didn’t think I was so good.”
“Oh,” he shakes his head, “you weren’t. I meant I’m impressed you stuck it out.”
“Oh, fuck you,” you hiss.
He snorts, head bobbing with the alcohol bubbling in his blood. “I’m kidding. You were great, for your first time. I’m really glad you came.”
“Me, too,” you admit.
Drew opens his mouth to say something else when a clatter from across the clubhouse interrupts him. You turn at the same time to see a waiter on his ass at the other side of the room. His metal tray rattles against the wooden floor, flutes smashed in a pool of champagne by his side.
“Oh, shoot,” Drew mumbles, setting his glass down on the table.
You push off your stool, sliding your drink alongside his, but he motions for you to stay.
“I got it,” he says, palm lightly tapping your wrist. “I got it.”
He shuffles off to the waiter, now being helped to his feet by Caleb. The last you see is Drew bending to grab the silver tray, before he’s swept out of your view by –
“Poor guy,” Daniel muses, fist locked tight around a lager. He pulls Joel’s stool out and slips onto the cushion, elbow brushing against yours.
You readjust awkwardly in your own chair and pull on the hem of your skirt.
“So,” Daniel clears his throat, the bottom of his glass scraping along the wooden tabletop, “how’d you find your first round of golf?”
You smile politely. “Uh, good. Yeah. I wasn’t expecting to be much, but it wasn’t too scary.”
He chuckles. “Yeah? Think you’ll be back?”
Your shoulders jerk with a shrug. “Maybe.”
He nods and dives headfirst into some long ramble about golf – something about the time he brought his sister and her kids here and how much worse they were than you, so you should really be proud of yourself, and he’d love to see you around here again sometime – but you’re only half listening. You’re stealing glances over at the bar, hunting for a chiseled jawline and monochrome beard.
You spot him locked between Steve and some other guy in all black, waiting for the bartender to draw up his order of drinks. He’s nodding, saying words back to the pair, but keeping his eyes locked on you.
You give him half a smile, half a, There you are, what the hell’s taking you so long? Can you come the fuck back? and hope he reads the words across your face.
“…so, as long as you stick with what you know, it’s actually a really enjoyable game.”
Daniel stares at you blankly, waiting for a response.
“Sure, sure,” you answer, after too long a pause to convince him that you were listening. “Sorry,” you close your eyes and give your head a shake, “was just checking on that waiter.”
Daniel nods. Follows the trail of your eyeline across the room, and looks back to you. “So, uh,” he clears his throat nervously, “I know this place downtown – Italian, has this big open rooftop seating area. If you’re interested, I’d, uh…I’d love to take you, sometime.”
You stare at him for a few seconds, frozen. Like, actually convinced the air in your lungs has turned to ice, frozen. Your eyes probably look like they’re about to burst out of your head, your mouth stuck in a dumb O-shape as you search frantically for the words to form a reply.
He smiles awkwardly. Watches as you blink straight back at him.
“I…” you manage, after what feels like fucking hours. “…That’s – so nice, Daniel, I – really – I’m flattered. Um…”
He interrupts, and it’s like a cold flannel on an acid burn. “Oh, Jesus. I – I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to – I’m sorry.”
“No,” you shake your head, suddenly animated, “no, listen. It’s – you’re –”
Daniel’s still apologizing. “Are you – sorry, I don’t mean to assume – are you and – you and Joel…?”
His head jerks. One eyebrow cocked. His fingers press into the table, making counter-rotating circles across the gleaming surface.
You stare from his hands to his face, open-mouthed. “N-no,” you tell him, with a single shake of your head. And then you realize he’s being serious. “No, no, we’re not – no, absolutely not. We’re just – friends.”
“Right,” he says, brows knitting. “It’s just – the guy hasn’t taken his eyes off you the entire time I’ve been sat here, so I just figured…maybe…”
You follow Daniel’s gaze across to the bar again, where Joel’s still standing, this time with Drew at his side. He’s mouthing Yeah, in reply to whatever Steve’s gabbing about, but not fucking listening to a word of it.
“No,” you say again, looking Joel dead in the eye. “We’re just friends.”
You turn to look back at the slick-haired man by your side, and he nods.
“But, uh,” you look into your glass, the ice suddenly more interesting than Daniel’s hopeful expression, “you’re a really nice guy, and I appreciate you asking, but I’m…not…exactly looking for anything right now. I’m – yeah.”
“Right – no, absolutely,” he says again, flustered. His fingers wrap tight around his glass and he shifts as if to stand. “That’s absolutely fine. I just thought I’d ask, y’know?”
He laughs nervously. You feel kinda guilty. He’s being so decent about it, and he means well, but you really just wish he would…fuck off.
He isn’t given the option.
Drew comes bounding over like a golden retriever and leans in to Daniel, another freshly poured pint swinging in his fist. “You’ve improved your game, Gilbert,” he sings in your suitor’s ear. “Must be years since the last time you scored an eagle!”
Daniel copies Drew’s guffawing, nodding along. He opens his mouth to say something, but Drew jumps ahead, offering to buy him a drink to celebrate.
“C’mon, my treat,” the blond tells him, and swaggers off towards the bar, a vice grip on the blue polo shirt.
The shadow of Joel slips around your back as soon as the two figures are out of view. He brushes against your shoulders and nudges his stool nearer to yours with his foot, before sitting back into it with a sigh.
You stare at him, smirking behind your hand, elbow resting on the arm of your chair. He catches your eye and watches you for a few seconds.
Sorry, he mouths eventually, and sneaks a hand onto your thigh.
You lean into him, feeling the weight of Daniel and his proposal and his fucking Italian restaurant fall like insignificant grains off sand off your shoulders. You trace a finger along the shape of Joel’s knuckles. “I feel bad,” you whisper.
“The hell for?” his voice asks, a deep rumble by your temple.
You shrug, looking up at him. “He’s a nice guy. He asked me on a date.”
“And did you want to go?”
Your face pulls into a wince, lips flinching. “Not really.”
“Then what’d I tell you about doin’ stuff you don’t want to?”
You don’t reply. Your mind sails back to that boat ride in Paris, when he basically told you off for feeling guilty about rejecting a fucking marriage proposal, never mind a downtown dinner. It doesn’t bear thinking about what fantastic rant he’s currently bottling up where Daniel’s feelings are concerned.
Joel’s a no-nonsense guy, you know this. Known it for as long as you’ve known him. He’s rational, he’s pragmatic. He says what he thinks, and you deal with however you feel about it. He doesn’t waste time making anyone feel better with lies or cushion-soft landings. His yes is yes and his no is no. And sure, maybe there’s something in there that you’d do well to adopt, too.
But there are inconsistencies to him that you can’t work out – yet. Something that makes him break his rules. He still hasn’t shared whatever the hell Jean-Marc said to him that made him sweep you off of that terrace minutes later. He won’t admit why he keeps dragging you along to these so-called ‘work’ events.
Part of you wants to break him open, chip away at him like the sculptures in the Louvre until his beating heart is in your hands, the rhythmic pulses sharing secrets like it’s speaking in Morse code.
And part of you – bigger, stronger, wiser – hopes you never get close.
When you come back to the room, sound of glasses clinking and men’s roaring laughter washing away any thoughts of jilted boyfriends or lonely golfers, Joel lowers his head to look you in the eye.
“You wanna go?”
You nod, scrunching your nose. “That okay?”
He leans in close, as close as he reckons he can get without drawing attention, and smiles softly. “You coulda asked to go home the minute we pulled up ‘n it woulda been okay. Let’s go.” And he takes your hand.
Drew’s slung over the shoulders of some argyle-patterned men who you’re sure have spent more time drinking than they have actually on the course. He’s lifting his glass, about to toast to life, or love, or fucking golf, when Joel sneaks by behind him, never letting go of your hand.
The Rolls Royce is sat in park at the bottom of the stone steps, hazard lights blinking. Joel holds the door open as you hop in under the twinkling ceiling.
“Well?” Rand asks, looking in the mirror. You respond with a toss of your head, squinting. “Did you keep your feet straight like I taught you?” he demands.
“Honestly, I was more focused on making sure I hit the ball, Rand.”
He snorts. “Office, Joel?”
“Office, Rand.”
As the partition closes, Joel’s hand comes up to cup the back of your head. You lean into it, tilting to look at him properly through eyes glazed with tiredness, alcohol, relief to be back in only his company.
And he’s staring back, eyes flitting from yours down to your mouth when you speak.
“Did you…did you send Drew over to get Daniel away from me?”
Joel’s eyes stay fixed on your lips. “You didn’t want me to do that?”
You ignore him. You want him to answer your question. “Did you?”
And then he looks up. Searches your eyes for a second, and then says, “Yeah.”
Your stare falls down into his lap. To his closed fist, resting on his thigh. His fingers are stroking the back of your head in lulling movements. You focus on the shine of his watch. And horror sets in.
“You wanted him to stay?” Joel asks, bringing you up for air for half a second.
You’re quiet when you reply. “…No. I didn’t want him anywhere near me.”
And that’s somehow scarier. That you didn’t want this decent, attractive-enough man around you. That the entire time he sat nipping your ear, your eyes, your hands, your heart was searching all over the room for Joel. Listening for the twang of his voice, looking for him out of your peripheral. Counting every second until he sauntered back to your side.
It’s rolling. The feeling. Like a snowball gaining speed down a mountain. Starts off a twinge, a plucking somewhere buried deep in your heart, and turns and turns and turns until it’s a weight behind your ribcage. Unable to burst free.
You take Joel’s wrist and move his hand to the curve of your thigh, then lock your fingers between his. He lets you. You lift your free hand to the cut of his jawline, training your fingers down his bristled beard, and he lets you do that, too. And when you pull his face down to meet yours, lips warm and wet and starving, he opens his mouth and slips his tongue past your teeth.
Your hands are knotting in his hair. You’re leaning back, trying to pull him down on top of you, but he’s stronger. His hands take a strong grip of your waist and hoist you over the center console and into his lap, your knees pressing into the soft leather either side of his hips.
“You gonna tell me what you’re up to, pretty girl?” he asks, tipping his head back. His shirt smells like his cologne. Fresh, sharp, clean. It sends your head spinning.
Your lips find his jawline and nip kisses and bites along the sharp ridge. He tastes like whiskey, tastes like the sun, tastes like he did four days ago. Sweet and smoky and laced with something intoxicating.
Joel sighs. His hands knead into your hips, and he pushes you down, grinding you into his body.
He’s hard. Already.
“Feels like you already know,” you mutter, still peppering his neck with kisses.
He laughs the cocky way he always does when you’re on this road, heading this way. His hands find your hair again and he pulls your head back, drawing a whine from your lips.
“You gonna take it like a good girl? Take daddy’s cock?”
“Mhm,” you mewl, rubbing your damp panties over the bulge in his pants.
Joel unzips his trousers and shifts the waistband loose. You move his hands and peel back the top of his boxers yourself, and he watches from under heavy lids as you take him in both hands.
“That’s – my girl,” he chokes, eyes following your pumping fists. His head tips back with a quiet groan.
You push yourself up, shuffle nearer to him until your cunt hovers over his cock, and pull your panties to the side. You’re fucking soaked, already wet enough that Joel’s thick head catches on the cusp of your entrance as you line him up, stealing a gasp from your lips.
You sink, slowly, letting him push through into your sex inch by inch, feeling yourself pull open around him. Your brows furrow, jaw falls wide at the white-hot feeling between your legs, and you look up to see your expression reflected in Joel’s.
His hands clutch at your hips. “So – fucking – tight,” he hums, eyes rolling.
You lock your knees and begin bouncing, resting your hands on top of Joel’s. You’re steadily picking up pace, each nudge of his tip against the edge of your pussy sending another spasm of stars across your quickly-blinding vision.
“Off,” Joel mumbles against your lips, fingers pinching the fabric of your shirt.
“Huh?” you ask back, looking down to where he’s already peeling it up your torso.
“Just the skirt,” he pants, desperate, “nothin’ else.”
You lift your arms and let him pull the polo from your body, tossing it onto the carpeted floor. Joel unhooks your bra and pulls the lace down, before he’s angling his hips up again, hitting you somewhere deep enough inside to steal the breath from your lungs.
And then his lips are on your naked chest, sinking into the valley between your breasts, kissing over to your nipple. His tongue flicks over and over until the bud is pointed, enough to take it between his lips and graze over it with his teeth.
Your thighs are burning. Your skirt sits bunched up on your hips, only just covering your ass as Joel’s hands press into the supple skin, lifting you effortlessly up and down. You melt into his touch, let him do the work for a few seconds as he sits back in his seat to watch your body on his.
“My good – girl,” he groans, voice thick with arousal. “You know how pretty you look right now?”
You hook your hand around his neck, draw him in a little nearer. Shake your head with a filthy smile on your lips. “Tell me.”
Joel laughs shakily. “Wanna – fuckin’ – show you off to everyone, babygirl.”
He’s kissing you slowly, his tongue pressed to yours, when you pull back and separate your lips. He’s planted a seed in your mind.
Joel’s hips stop moving immediately. “Y’okay?” he asks, light hand on the side of your head, keeping your eyes on him.
You nod, breathing heavy. “Mhm.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” you shake your head, “just…”
You look down to your skirt, your bare thighs spread over Joel’s lap. The thought flips over and over in your head, unsure if it’s brave enough to trot down to your lips and show itself to Joel.
“Baby?”
It’s Joel, though. Same guy who bent you over his desk, same guy who fucked you senseless feet away from his flight attendants. Same guy who, a few days ago, you were in this exact position with: writhing in next to nothing on his lap.
Fuck it. Right?
“…want him to watch,” you say, in a small voice.
Joel’s expression doesn’t change, save for the way his eyes narrow. “Want who to watch?”
You look at him a beat longer, and it sinks in. He gets it.
“Yeah, babygirl? That what you want?”
“Mhm,” you reply, shifting with him when he starts moving his hips again. The car moves forward, pushing you closer into him. “Want him to – watch you fuck me.”
“Dirty girl. You want him to watch you cum for daddy, pretty girl?”
“Ye-ah,” you moan, Joel’s hands now pushing your waist down, the stretch of his cock deep inside you almost burning with pleasure.
“Yeah, you do,” he whispers, watching as your face pulls and your brows knit together.
“Only cum for you, daddy,” you whimper.
“I know, darlin’, I know. Close your eyes.”
By this point, Joel’s assured tone, his strong hands on your hips, his fucking length buried inside you, are enough to convince you. You just do as you’re fucking told – as soon as you’re fucking told.
Your eyes flutter closed, and you lean forward, hooking your chin over his shoulder and feeling him turn, his lips pressed close to your ear.
“Good girl. He there?”
The image of Daniel flits across your vision, bright blue eyes trained on you. He looks…intrigued, and stunned. He’s not breaking his stare.
“Mhm,” you say again, and start to lift off of Joel.
“He watching?”
“Y-eah,” you choke out, bouncing steadily.
“Put on a show for ‘im, pretty girl. Show him what you do for me.”
You focus on the feeling of Joel, cock fucking deep into you, nuzzling against your walls and splitting you open; the sound of his voice in your ear, gently encouraging, sweetly reassuring; the smell of him, the taste of him, the heat from his skin, and…the sight of the steel-blue stare behind your eyes. The tight polo shirt. The round biceps. Watching you.
Watching you be fucked by someone else. Watching you come undone for someone else. For the same guy whose stare he couldn’t shake while he so much as talked to you. Watching your face as it twists in filthy pleasure; listening to you make sounds, whisper words, whisper daddy in the ear of your fucking boss; have him whisper words back that make your cunt tighten around him and push the image of Daniel two steps back with shock.
“Tell me again, angel.” Joel’s voice starts to swipe Daniel away.
Your eyes peel open, the backseat of the Rolls a blur as you roll your head back. “What, daddy?” you whimper.
His hand takes your jaw, holds you in line with his own. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”
You breathe a laugh. It pulls across your mouth two seconds later. “M-me.”
Joel mirrors your grin. His hips buck once. You cry out. “Yeah?”
“Uhuh,” you yelp, getting louder as he snaps up into you deeper, faster, harder.
You’re drawing around him, warm and wet, feeling him deep in your stomach as your movements become sloppy and staggered. Pleasure swirls like a whirlpool between your legs, tightening, tightening, tightening.
Joel’s face sharpens into your vision. His eyes are fixed on yours. You watch his lips shape the words good girl, before he pulls your foreheads together, noses flush against one another.
“’n who fucks it like this?” he asks into your mouth.
You take a deep breath, inhaling his question, and let a satisfied exhale carry your answer back out.
“Just y-you, daddy.”
And you both fall.
You rock back and forth as the feeling drowns you both; open-mouthed, silently screaming, eyes trained on one another as you ride out your high together.
You throw your head back, eyes losing focus just inches under the stars until they blur into little white halos. Your arms lift up to lean against the tiny dotted lights, steadying yourself.
Joel’s hands clamp around your waist, holding you down on his cock as he shoots hot ropes of cum deep inside you, mixing with your own and filling you up. Your name escapes his lips hand in hand with a deep, throaty moan.
You body aches. Your cunt throbs around him, still humming with pleasure as your body curls again, falling forward until your face is hidden in the crook of his neck. His hands run up and down your spine, lips press featherlight kisses to your ear, shhing, whispering praise, bringing you slowly back into the car with him.
“Daddy…” you whisper into the soft cotton of his shirt, and you feel the weight of his cheek on your head.
His hands cup your cheeks and he lifts your face until you’re staring at one another. Your eyes are tired, you can hardly keep them open, but Joel holds you upright.
“We gotta stop this,” he whispers, and your foreheads fall together again as you laugh. “I’m gettin’ too old for it, baby.”
He’s still buried deep inside, slowly softening, but you don’t want him to go. Not yet. He reaches for your bra, helps you slip it back on, and you bend back to take your shirt in two fingers.
When you’re dressed, you sink back into him.
Joel laughs, brushing the wisps of your hair disturbed by pulling your shirt over your head. “That what you were thinkin’ about? While he was talkin’ to you?”
You smile lazily. Shake your head no. “Was thinking…about you taking me to the Italian he was talking about.”
Joel’s smile grows bigger. Biggest you think you’ve ever seen him smile before. It breaks into a laugh, a toothy chuckle, and then he kisses you.
You melt into him, tongue and teeth crashing against one another. Joel’s open palms surf along your thighs, molding around your skin. He squeezes the dimpled skin on your hips between his fingers.
“Tonight work for you?” he asks, and you giggle.
“No,” you tell him, “I got Martha’s to-do list to work through.”
He nods knowingly, eyes closing. “You want a hand with it?”
You smirk. “Can we fool around in your office between items?”
His head tips back against the headrest with an obvious expression. “What do you think?”
The car slows to a stop and Rand’s knuckles rap against the glass of the partition. You slip off of Joel’s lap, fix yourselves quickly, and then amble off back to the top floor, still a little weak in the knees.
“Home time, Martha,” Joel calls almost as soon as the elevator doors pull open.
“Excuse me?” she yells back.
He laughs. “I’m lettin’ you go early. It ain’t fair that we get to go have our fun ‘n you’re stuck here ‘til five. Let us know what needs done, ‘n then you can get goin’.”
“Ain’t that chivalrous?” Martha beams, blinking at you.
You saunter by her with a smile and toss your bag under your desk. You spin around, brace yourself against the arms of your chair, and throw yourself back against the comfortable leather.
“So,” she announces, almost fucking skipping over to you with her trusty notepad back in her clutches. “I whittled it down to just six things, so it shouldn’t keep you much longer than five o’clock…”
You lift your brows and nod along.
“…as long as you don’t find anything to distract yourselves with, that is.”
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cheolhub · 7 months
Note
birthday bash ask!!~
let’s eat (🤤)- sarrrr this is dangerous!! i’m going to have to request mr kim mingyu (you know!!) and i’ll let you decide on a prompt(s) to use! (trust you with my all! gimme a dm if u want me to choose hehe)
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5:13 p.m. — kim mingyu
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prompt. “you're so good for me, so fucking good around me, fucking made for me. “
wc. 955
warning. mingyu fucks reader in a dryer (very unrealistic), needy!gyu, baby fever + marriage kink (my fav combo), use of mommy [x1], unprotected sex, creampie, manhandling, SO much dirty talk, pet names [baby, angel] — MINORS DNI 18+
note. thank u for sending in an ask lu,, i’m so sorry if you dont like the piece or the prompt i used !!! i know it’s a lil intense and lacks a lot of detail 😭 i was in the mood to write needy gyu with baby fever without thinking abt logistics so,,, here it is (also im sorry it’s so short </3) [not proofread if u see a typo, i literally didn’t write this]
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mingyu is a sucker. you’re not sure there’s a diagnosis for what he has other than a severe case of baby fever. it's not when he sees babies that sets him off, no, it’s you. you doing anything remotely domestic like chores around the house for that matter. when you’re cooking him dinner, loading the dishwasher, dusting and sweeping in your cute little house slippers, and his personal favorite, unloading the dryer.
to put it simply, he just can’t wait to give you a baby so he can come home and spoil his gorgeous little family. the mere mention of even wanting a future with him has him weak in the knees. 
it’s why your his shirt is flipped over your ass and your panties are pushed halfway down your legs the second he finds you in the laundry room. “gyu, what the fuck are you– ah!” you cry out feeling his spit-slicked cock slip inside of you. you fall into the pile of warm clothes, the smell of clean linen filling your nose. “baby!”
mingyu groans, cock twitching at the word that’s had his head spinning for weeks, “that’s right, ‘m gonna give you a baby, angel,” he says, hands gripping your hips for dear life, the flesh of your skin nearly interlaced between his fingers. 
you moan loudly, but it’s muffled by the wild white sheets in the machine. your skin burns up as if it weren’t already on fire thanks to the fresh heat of the dryer. you knew mingyu was ruthless and needy when it came to getting his dick wet, but never would you have thought you’d be in this position as he pounds into you.
“fuck, i love you so much. love you and this fucking pussy so so much. ‘m gonna fill you up ‘n ‘m gonna marry you,” he mutters, eyes watching the way you swallow his dick whole, disappearing as it goes in and out. “gonna make you a pretty little mommy, make you my fuckin’ wife.” 
you’re partially convinced that your boyfriend has gone crazy, but the words head straight to your core, the increase in your arousal solidifying everything mingyu had said. 
his breathing becomes labored, soft moans growing louder as they morph into deep groans. your ears pick all of it up even with the walls of the dryer attempting to drown him out. “tell me you wan’ it, angel, t-tell me you wan’na baby, a pretty ring… tell me you want me forever.” 
you just can’t say no, the offer is too good. you want everything and more with this man, so you tell him exactly what he wants to hear. “i do, i wan’ it, gyu, w-wanna make you a d-dad! w-wanna marry you!”
a guttural groan erupts in his chest and his thrusts pick up, the tip of his cock ramming into your cervix eliciting a loud, muffled cry as you scream into the cloth. “baby, you're so good for me, so fucking good around me, fucking made for me.” he babbles, overstimulated tears pricking at his eyes. “i’m so close, angel. gonna fill this cunt with all my cum ‘n get you pregnant. it’s gonna take. s-swear to fucking god, it’s gonna take.”
your hands mercilessly fist at the cotton, wrinkling it in your tight grasp. you think the heat from the freshly dried sheets melts your brain because now you’re sobbing, incoherently babbling out pleas, but the only thing that can be heard in the mess of your words is the chant of his nickname, “gyu, gyu, gyu!” you clench tightly around his cock, gummy walls molding to the shape of him as they’re made to.
and, fuck, mingyu’s abdomen tightens at the euphoric feeling. his balls draw up, thrusts turning sloppy and inconsistent as he fucks into you. “shit, baby,” he mewls, his grip on your hips near bruising. “i’m gonna cum.” 
all it takes is another tight hug from your cunt and he’s a mess. his cock throbs inside the heat of your stretched cunt before he slams into you and stills, his tip pressed right against your cervix as he empties his load. 
 it’s the ripple effect that triggers your own orgasm. you moan and whine as you feel his heavy seed filling you to the brim and painting your used walls white. all the while, the knot that’s been steadily forming in the pit of your tummy completely unravels and you’re left a shaking, crying mess inside a dryer full of wrinkled, tear soaked cotton. 
it takes him longer than usual to come down from his orgasm, but he eventually eases his grip on your waist as he finds his mind again. he pulls your near-limp body out of the dryer and you let out a broken whine as you feel his cock slip out, creating a mess of cum on the ground. he doesn’t really mind seeing his load go to waste knowing he’ll pump you full the second you’ve recovered.
you slump in his arms while he wordlessly presses kisses into your hair. when you whine again, he murmurs apologetically. “sorry i was so rough, are you okay?”
you nod, still trying to catch your breath and regain stability. “it’s okay. i’m okay. just need a sec,”
he doesn’t say anything for a minute or so, holding you in his arms till you’re able to stand on your own but then he whispers. “can we go again? are you up for it?”
you laugh softly at his need. “we can, but can we try the bed this time? do you think you’ll make it to our room without fucking me against one of the walls?”
he shrugs, grinning to himself. “we’ll see.”
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© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.
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heartelysia · 1 month
Note
hello ! im not sure if u take requests but if u do, pls do a choso x f reader where he breeds them... n makes them a mommy.. :3 choso brainrot im sorry 😭
this is super similar to a fic im getting ready to publish so im going to turn this into a thirst! if u dont mind .. °=° UGHHH I LOVE CHOSO!!
cw ; cum-stuffing, breeding, creampie, body praise/praise
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choso is the type of partner to be so fucking whiny in bed, his cheeks dusted with a rosy pink as he sloppily slams his pelvis against yours in a desperate attempt at smacking your sensitive g-spot.
choso who ruts his hips into yours uncontrollably, whiny moans escaping his lips mixed with his soft praises, "g-god.. fuck! you're... youre so pretty baby.. god you're so fucking gorgeous", he slurs out, drunkenly thrusting into your sloppy cunt.
hes so pussy drunk his hands randomly wander all over your body, digging his blunt fingertips into whatever curves he finds whilst hammering his hips into yours. everything blurs together in the heat of the moment, the sloppy sounds of your sweet cunny hungrily swallowing his cock makes his mushroom tip throb against your g-spot. "so- so happy to be with y-you! 'm so luck.. lucky!"
choso pulls out almost entirely before slamming back in, hitting your bruising cervix with every stroke. each time he bottomed out, he felt your walls deliciously rippling around him, sending electric shocks straight to his veiny cock. his pace quickened, his breath coming in ragged gasps as his words come out in broken sentences. "i... i love yo- you...! shit- shit, go- god why are y.. you so ah.. perfect?," he growled, pulling out and pushing back in harder.
hes breathless each time his cock rips another whiny moan from your drooling lips. his hands hopelessly stuttering in its wake of dragging your soft flesh into calloused palms. choso's eyes are blown wide as they seem to only fixate onto your pretty face covered in a thin layer of sweat whilst his pupils catch a glimpse of your bouncing tits teasing him.
his hair loosely fell from his buns, framing his vision to only stare down at you - his beloved. a low, almost animalistic groan rumbles in his throat as his movements became faster and harder, his hips snapping against yours in tight rhythm. his fingers dig into your plush thighs, massaging them as he drove deeper into you as if he was lost in a deep trance.
god, choso thinks he hit the jackpot with you. sometimes he cant help but get nervous around you, you were just so perfect for him and possibly better in his mind, words just come out like vomit. "p-please- please baby.. please- please let me breed your pretty ah! p-pussy! w-wanna cum inside...!", choso pleads, uncontrollably rutting his throbbing cock till it smudges your cervix.
your hands immediately grasp onto the sheets behind your head, knuckles turning white as your body still registers the deliciously painful thrust of your partner grazing your cervix. a guttural groan escapes chosos lips when he feels your thighs tense up, his eyes desperately searched your glazed over pupils for any sort of conformation. whiny so prettily when your only response was a broken moan.
the sound of your moans filled the room, echoing off the walls. they were music to his ears, fuel to his fire. he picked up the pace, slamming into you rougher, faster, his cock carving its shape inside of you.
his hand releases its bruising grip on your soft hips, a cool burning sensation was left behind as his hand stumbles over to your breast, massaging and pinching your hard nipple between his calloused fingertips. "please... please b-baby! ngh- fuck! let me c-cum in you... b-beggin' to knock you up..!", he pleaded, angling his hips a little differently so his angry mushroom tip constantly grazes your sensitive cervix.
he loved the way you arched your back and cried out in pleasure when he did that. it turned him on even more, knowing he could make you feel this way. chosos eyes glimmer in delight when a high-pitched 'yes' made it past your drooling mouth. something in his brain clicked when your head did the weakest nod known to man.
choso grabbed your leg, lifting it up and hooking it over his broad shoulder, giving him better access to your weeping pussy. he plunged into you again and again, hitting your g-spot ruthlessly. you moaned and cried out in ecstasy, body shuddering and trembling underneath him.
"y- g'nna cum prett- pretty girl?", he bites back a moan when your sweet cunt ripples around his cock, "cmon.. shit- cum for me princess...", choso mumbles, reaching down to lightly press his thumb onto your nub. perhaps that was all you need.
the simple action of his calloused fingertip pressing up against your clit instead of his pelvis teasing it made the unbearable coil in your stomach to snap almost instantly. tears flow freely down your cheeks as your entire body freezes up, choso groans at the sight, the happiest smile on his lips.
and then, he felt it - the familiar rush of release coursing through his veins. even for himself, it was rather embarrassing at the broken moan he let out as his hips stuttered violently against your hole. your partner emptied himself into you, his hot, sticky cum filled you up, coating your insides with him.
for a moment, you both just rested there, hearts racing in unison. even in the afterglow, choso doesnt pull out, his cock still hard despite having just cum inside you. he smiled down at you, seeing the fucked-out expression on your face.
"mmm.. gonna plug you up so you will be carrying a miniature us around."
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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 7 months
Text
My Job
Dean Winchester x little sister!reader
Requested by Anonymous
Synopsis: You storm out after an argument with Dean, but then you get into trouble. Will he get there in time to help?
Trigger Warning: attempted sexual assault (not graphic), drugging
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“It’s not rocket science, kid, we’ve had these rules since you were born.”
“Yeah, but I thought-“
“What, because dad isn’t here right now, I’m just gonna let you do whatever you want?”
You huffed, “Would you let me speak?”
“No, you’ve said what you wanted, and the answer is still no.”
“It’s just a few hours!”
“And you know the rules. When we’re on a hunt, you don’t go out. At all. For any reason other than the motel is on fire.”
“It’s a stupid rule!”
“It’s a rule that means that you’re safe. While monsters are out there, you’re not, it’s not exactly unreasonable.”
“It’s just one time!” Dean’s efforts to bring the volume of the conversation down just made you want to yell louder. “It wouldn’t kill you to loosen up!”
“It might kill you!” Dean matched your volume. “Im just trying to protect you, and dad would say the same thing if he-“
“You’re not dad!” You couldn’t take it anymore. You brushed past Dean, shaking his hand off when he tried to grab your arm, and stormed out the motel door, slamming it behind you.
Who was he to say you couldn’t go out? Dean, who had to be the most reckless person you knew.
Well, maybe you’d have to show him that he should practice what he preached. You were going to do as he did, not as he said.
You buried your hand into your pocket, pulling out one of your fake IDs.
You were going to show him.
Not fifteen minutes later you’d slipped into a bar and used your fake ID to order a beer. The bartender gave you a strange look, unsure about the “22” printed on your ID, but he’d served you nonetheless.
You sat at the bar for several minutes, wanting to spite Dean but not really wanting to drink. He’d gotten you the fake ID “in case anything happened”, and you needed to pretend to be an adult. He certainly didn’t get it so you could drink underage, and you honestly had never wanted to. You’d seen what it did to John, and how it was starting to affect Dean. You didn’t want it to somehow turn into your coping mechanism like it had with them.
Suddenly your fight with Dean felt really stupid. Was the rule really so unfair? It was his job to keep you safe, after all, and it made you feel horrible knowing that he’d never asked for that job. You weren’t his kid, you were John’s, but Dean saddled the responsibility anyway. And how did you repay him? Screaming at him and running off without telling him.
Oh gosh. He must be freaking out! He didn’t know where you were, and you’d already been gone for a bit. You’d seriously screwed up.
“Hey, princess.”
Just the sound of the grating voice made your blood run cold, and when it was followed by a hand on your arm, you visibly flinched.
“Do I know you?” You asked the stranger nervously.
“Not yet,” the man licked his lips, and your skin crawled. “Are you even old enough to drink that?” He gestured at the drink in front of you.
“Yes,” you hated how your voice quavered.
“Right,” the man grinned, clearly not believing you. “Don’t worry baby, I won’t tell on you.”
Whenever Dean called you baby, it always made you feel safe, like a baby sister Dean would always protect. When this man called you baby, it made you want to crawl out of your own skin and hide somewhere.
“You here with anyone?”
“No—I mean, I mean yes,” why, oh why had the truth slipped out?
“That’s ok, I can keep you company,” you curled in on yourself when the man leaned his body closer to yours, hating how small and pathetic you must look compared to him.
“No thanks,” your voice came out barely above a whisper.
“What was that, baby?” The man’s hand came around your waist, and he didn’t wait for an answer. “Why don’t you have a drink, you’re so tense.” He pulled your drink closer to you, and suddenly you wanted nothing to do with it.
You shook your head, finding that your voice didn’t want to work.
“Aw c’mon, just a little sip,” the man suddenly had one hand on the back of your neck, the other lifting your drink. You tried to squirm away but his grip was too strong, and a whimper escaped your lips when the cool feeling of the glass pushed against them, demanding entrance.
“Open up, pretty little thing,” he twisted so that his arm was holding your neck in place, moving his hand over to your jaw to pry it open. You felt the bitter liquid enter your mouth, and suddenly the man put the cup down, using one hand to cover your mouth while the other pinched your nose.
You couldn’t think, couldn’t even breathe. Eventually it got to the point where you had no choice but to swallow, and once you did, the man released you.
“There we go, now that wasn’t so bad, was it baby?” He leaned close, and his alcohol stained breath invaded your senses. “The next part will be even better.”
Suddenly your head felt fuzzy, your body swaying in your chair. Surely this couldn’t happen because of one sip of beer, right? The scene played back in your head, and suddenly you saw it. The man’s hand hovering over your drink when he went to lean close to you. He must’ve slipped something in it, that’s why he was so desperate to get you to drink.
“S’cuse me,” your voice came out slightly slurred as you slid out of your chair, heading for the restroom. You sensed the man following right behind you, and you broke into a run.
It was a single bathroom, so you were able to lock the door a split second after you entered. You fumbled for your phone, not even hesitating as you clicked Dean’s number.
“Y/N where are you?” Dean didn’t wait for you to speak, his voice demanding and angry. You felt tears begin to stream down your cheeks as a pounding came from the bathroom door.
“I’m so sorry, Dean I’m sorry, I need help please.”
The anger dissipated, and was replaced with worry as Dean repeated his question.
“Where are you?”
“It’s-um…” why couldn’t you remember the name? Your brain felt so fuzzy, and you were so tired.
“It’s that bar we passed, um…”
“You’re at a bar?” You heard the Impala engine start, and your heart rate picked up when the door shook with the man’s pounding.
“Dean I’m sorry,” you sobbed. “Please hurry, there’s-there’s a man and he-he’s trying to…”
“I’m coming, it’s ok just hold on baby.”
Boom!
The door hinges shook.
“Dean…” you whimpered.
Boom! Boom!
The plaster around the door cracked.
“Baby? What’s happening?”
Boom!
You let out a panicked cry when the door flung open.
“Honey, talk to me, what’s-“ Dean’s voice was cut off when the man smacked the phone out of your hand.
“You didn’t have to do that,” your stomach knotted at the sickeningly sweet tone. “It’s not gonna hurt that bad, I promise. It’ll be quick.”
“Please…” you felt your knees give out, and you curled against the wall as your whole body shuddered.
“I’m gonna take real good care of you,” the man was reaching forward to grab you when he was suddenly flung backwards, and Dean took his place in front of you. He remained for a few seconds, looking you over for signs of injuries, before he turned his attention to the man, his whole body tensing with rage.
You slowly got to shaky feet as Dean began to pound his fists, his palms, his feet, everything, into the man, and before long the creep couldn’t hold himself upright, his face bloody and his body bruised.
“Dean.”
The beating stopped immediately at the sound of your terrified whimper. Dean dropped the man and turned to face you, and you ignored his bloody knuckles and bruised hands as you collapsed into his arms.
“I got you, you’re ok,” Dean’s strong arms held you tightly against him, and you relaxed completely as he picked you up, your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs around his torso as he carried you outside.
He set you down gently in the passengers seat of the Impala, and he moved to close the door but you grabbed onto his hand.
“Not yet,” your voice came out in a hoarse whisper, and Dean knelt down to look you in the eyes.
“You’re not hurt are you? He didn’t…” Dean trailed off as you shook your head, and relief settled onto his features. “Honey what happened?”
You recounted the story, and as you did you began to cry again. It felt like living it all over again, and soon you were sobbing in Dean’s arms as he held you close, rubbing your back and cradling your head.
“It’s over now,” he promised. “I’m gonna take you home.”
You finally let him pull away, and he shut your door before climbing into the drivers seat. You drove in silence for a few minutes, but you couldn’t hold back what you needed to say any longer.
“Dean, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of what I said, I know why we have rules and I know you’re doing your best. I-I know-“ you broke off, pulling your knees to your chest before continuing. “I know you don’t deserve to be stuck in charge of me, and I’m-I’m sorry for being so difficult.”
Dean had been silent up to this point, but now he broke him, alarm on his features.
“What? Baby I’m not stuck with you, you’re my baby sister and it’s my job to-“
“But it’s a job you didn’t ask for!” You broke in, trying to keep back your tears for the third time this night. “Dad just left you here with me, and-and I know I’m not easy-“
“Stop right there,” Dean interrupted. “Sweetheart, this is the easiest job in the world for me, ok? I mean sure, sometimes you run off and give me a heart attack,” he gave you a pointed look. “But sometimes you also help with research, or bring me food, or talk Sammy through his nightmares. Honey we need you around here, just as much as you need us. We’re family, understand? It’s all of our jobs to look out for each other, so don’t think you’re just some burden on me. Don’t ever think that.”
You felt your face light up with a smile, and you finally looked up at Dean.
“Ok.”
“Ok,” Dean nodded firmly as he pulled into the motel. “Now c’mon, you should get some food and sleep.”
“Dean?”
Dean hummed as he opened your car door and led you inside.
“Can…can I sleep in your bed tonight? It’s just…I’m still kinda freaked and I thought-“
“Of course you can baby,” Dean leaned down and kissed your head. “That’s what I’m here for. It’s my job.”
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mangekyuou · 5 months
Note
If you are up to it and haven’t already done it. Could you pretty please write head cannons of the kid, heart, and straw hat pirates as parents. My favorite one is killer.
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★ THEM AS PARENTS! headcanons ★
── featuring. sanji. zoro. kid. killer.
── cw. gn!reader. no pronouns used. no mentions of pregnancy. whole cake island and wano spoilers. me rambling again. not proofread.
── notepad. usually my limit is 3 but i added one more bcuz i felt inspired. it’s been awhile since ive written so i feel out of practice and these feel all over the place im so sorry. but i will say, i love you girl dad zoro and killer. i could talk about them forever
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★ VINSMOKE SANJI ★
── unlike everyone else, sanji HAS thought about settling down and having kids. he thinks about it at least twenty times a day. every time he looks at you, he’s always thinking about your future together
── so when your twin boy and girl show up in your lives, he couldn’t be happier. he’s never been happier. life is finally coming together the both of you
── he loves your twins with all of his heart, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t want any more children. he’s already dreamed of having a big family that he can share all of his love and care with. and because he already had at least four baby names picked out
── given his own upbringing that he never ever plans to tell your children about, sanji takes his fatherly role very seriously. he does everything in his power to be better than his own father
── never will he allow any of his children to take his surname. he would prefer if they took yours or even adopted a new one altogether
── never will there be any middle child syndrome or favoritism between your kids. he loves each of them equally and does pretty well at spreading out his time with each of them, making all of them feel loved and cared for
── every night he gives everyone a long tearful good night before sending them all their separate ways like he’s never going to see them again….they’re just down the hall
── he is a very emotional father. no matter what your children do, milestone or not, he will sob. first words and steps, sobbing. finally being able to dress themselves, sobbing. nearly setting the kitchen on fire attempting to make him a birthday cake, he sobbed all day and tried to eat the inedible cake despite you telling him NOT to
── he was sick for a few weeks after that. how the cake was both overcooked and undercooked at the same time, neither of you could ever figure it out
── his favorite family activity is cooking together. he loves cooking for each of you, but there’s something about teaching your little ones all of his favorite recipes, or even learning how to make a whole new dish altogether, that warms his heart. plus seeing them all get along and work together as a team brings joyful tears to his eyes
── but he can definitely be the indulgent parent. all his kids have to do is flash him the puppy eyes and a pout and he’s a goner, leaving you to play the authoritative parent and say no
── he is also the affectionate, embarrassing, and petty dad, always smothering the little ones in hugs no matter how old they get
── they could be in their late teens and he’ll still hug them the same as he did when they were small. or he’ll embarrass them in front of their friends by yelling how much he loves them and expects them to say ‘i love you’ back OR he’s not going to let them go anywhere
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★ RORONOA ZORO ★
── girl dad
── the thought of being a dad never crossed his mind. he was focused on his goal at hand, becoming the greatest swordsman. he wasn’t exactly sure having a kid would fit in that
── but he was going to have to figure it out because resting in his arms was an infant girl with the most precious cheeks
── you don’t have to worry much about your daughter, even in infancy your daughter adopted your husband’s calm and quiet nature. she even adopted his napping habits
── if he’s asleep out on the deck in the sun, she’s asleep out on the deck, either in his chest or in his lap. and no one dares to wake them, especially not after that time when usopp and sanji were arguing too loud, causing your daughter to stir in her sleep, alerting zoro immediately. in a matter of seconds, he held your baby in one hand and his unsheathed sword in the other
── nap time is a VERY serious thing
── though your daughter’s favorite place to rest is on his back. no matter how awake she may seem, the minute he wraps her in the baby wrap, she’s suddenly very sleepy
── if you’re looking for your daughter and you don’t immediately see her, don’t panic. nine times out of ten, she’s on zoro’s back napping
── she is always present during his training sessions in a little swing franky made and surprised you both with that way he can train and keep an eye on her at the same time. maybe that’s why your little girl ended up showing so much interest in swords as she grew up
── like father, like daughter. your daughter began her road to being a swordsman with zoro as her teacher. he learns from his own past failures, in guiding her to be an even better swordsman than him
── not only giving her the skills she needs to wield a blade, but also skills she will need to grow as a person
── when he is sure he has trained her well enough for them to spar, he will do so without mercy. she may lose a number of times, but to never give up is a skill he instilled in her since the beginning of her training
── and when she finally does best her father, he cannot hide just how proud he is. he’s in all dad mode
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★ EUSTASS KID ★
── kid never pictured being in a stable relationship, let alone settling down and having children. he didn’t have much experience with children
── in reality, being a father scared him. it was uncharted waters. he didn’t know the first thing about being a good dad. he knew kids were a lot of work, and he didn’t know if he could handle it
── more importantly, he was worried he was going to let both you and your child down. and he couldn’t live with that
── but here he was now struggling his way through the baby and toddler stages. but through his mistakes and errors, as opposed to getting angry and giving up, like he usually does, he’s gaining patience and trying his best. that’s all anyone could ever ask for
── he becomes a natural over time. no longer needing you to intervene to keep your son from crying up a storm. if it’s taking a little longer than usual to put your son to sleep, and you offer to help, he will decline. his stubbornness and pride won’t allow him to accept your help
── if there’s one thing kid hates more than anything, it’s anyone thinking he can’t take care of his son
── it’s not uncommon to see the captain of the kid pirates to be seen around the victoria punk your son strapped to his chest
── it’s hard to take him seriously when he’s barking out orders to the crew and your excitable little one is reaching up to pinch and pull at his father’s cheeks and nose
── kid claims to not be a dad who cries, but he definitely does cry, oftentimes more than you do
── your son’s first word is definitely a swear word. kid thinks it’s hilarious seeing your son scream fuck
── as your son ages, the more he becomes just like his father. and with age comes the attitude, which does not mesh well with kid’s attitude
── never in a million years would you think you would find kid losing a loud argument to your fussy toddler son about nothing
── and it does not change. it continues to get worse as your son begins to form his own opinions. your son and kid clash even more, leading you to be the mediator between their arguments
── or at points when they stop talking altogether, you have to relay messages to the other because they refuse to be in the same room with each other
── kid wants to start your son off young when it comes to training him, wanting the little one to be hell just like him. if your son expresses interest in learning how to fight, kid is overjoyed but does not plan to take it easy on him just because they’re blood
── if your son has no interest in fighting and wants to lead a peaceful life, kid will be disappointed and it will take some time for it to get out of his system. but he ultimately will support his son’s decisions
── kid has a habit of ruffling your son’s hair or knocking heads as his way of showing affection. that’s just how it has always been since he was born. but the day your son decides to leave the ship to start the new chapter of his life is the first time they share a real hug
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★ KILLER ★
── killer is prime girl dad material. king of girl dads, if you will. he’s a natural. well, he becomes a natural after he gets over his fear of holding your daughter
── he has led a complicated life up to this point. it is not something he regrets, but it is something that he worries could affect his family
── these calloused hands have killed, been stained with the blood of dozens, he had lost count. these were not the hands that should hold such a pure soul
── the first time he actually held her was in the middle of the night when she woke up crying in the middle of the night. he pondered on waking you but decided against it seeing you sound asleep. it has been a while since you had gotten a good sleep. you deserved your rest
── he had watched you countless times lull your little one back to sleep. he remembered how you did it, trying his best to keep his shaky hands still, reaching into your little’s crib, gently taking her into his arms
── who knew saying “please don’t cry” in a sweet low voice would be enough to calm her ??
── quite a sight you awoke to, seeing your husband passed out in a chair with your daughter still asleep in his arms
── it became part of his routine, every time she woke up in the middle of the night, he was going to take care of it. when she was old enough to sleep in the bed with the two of you, you better believe she took her place in the middle and kept it well into her late childhood, early teens
── they are attached at the hip. wherever she is, he is and vice versa, no matter the situation
── like the one time the kid called for an emergency meeting and killer could not find you in time so he just took your daughter with him
── everyone was on their best behavior because you had already warned them that if her first word was a swear word you would murder each of them and spread their body parts across the grand line for the sea king to feast upon
── ….they were not going to take the chances
── just your luck, your daughter inherited killer’s luscious hair. no matter what you do to it, no matter how hard you attempt to gel it down, it shoots right back up
── but killer’s got it. he does her hair most days because she prefers it that way they end up matching
── there are two things about killer that he is still very sensitive about. his appearance and his laugh, both things he tries to hide from your daughter. though it is easier to hide his appearance than his laugh
── after everything happened in wano, he was ashamed. he couldn’t bear letting her see him like this. he wanted her to remember him the way he used to look. he wasn’t ready to show her, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready.
── until he was ready, he allows her to place her hands on his mask and put together what she thinks he looks like.
── currently, she envisions him to be a snake monster under his mask
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© MANGEKYUOU — do not copy, repost, or translate my works.
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