13as07

[13as07]

Vixen #1

(Naruto Uzumaki)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to jasü-14]

Requested by: Nada

Word Count: 4,517

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

I know way more about foxes than I ever planned too but hey, here we are

Also I kinda want to do a prequel focused on on our Vixen’s friendship with Gaara. Whatcha think?

———————————————————————

I’ve always liked the color blue.

The dark blue bands of the village headbands.

The deep blue color of my best friend’s shirt.

The watery blue shade of the ocean.

The ever-changing blue of the never-leaving sky.

Maybe that’s why I noticed her. Because of the blue gems dangling from her waist chains. The chains that my eyes roll over for the hundredth time. Three bands race across her skin, the silver material leaking over the dips of her waist, one loop melting to the left while the other melts to the right, draped over her hips before the chains trail upward again. The last stays straight, wrapping around just her waist. Gemstones of the darkest blue I have ever seen are dripping from them, enough room between each one to tease a slide of my finger between before another appears, interrupting the lace-like skin it lies across.

I’ve flipped through some of Pervy Sage’s books, not that any of them are interesting, and noticed that he always compares the skin of his characters to silk. I don’t know why. Silk is smooth, almost waxy, like a candle, and always flawless. I’ve never seen a woman with skin like that. Certainly not this one.

This woman has skin like lace. It’s decorated with different scars, some long, or short, or thin, or wide. Some are simple shapes, the likes of leftover slashes from a kunai, while others are detailed scars from her enemies, printing her skin with proof of their ninjutsu. The patterns of her are dotted with sunmade freckles, some across her exposed stomach, teasing her viewers as they hide beneath her waist chains, while others complement her limbs and face.

My eyes finally peel off her waist, dropping over the skirt that settles above her knees, the slits on both sides making my face heat up despite the black fishnet shorts layered underneath. For a second my mind flickers to Temari, the skirt reminding me of hers, before it settles back on the woman in front of me.

The further my eyes fall over her exposed legs, more lace-like skin for my sight to crawl over, the hotter my face feels.

Her ankles are crossed because of her weight being balanced against the wall space she’s taking up. My fixation stays on her ankles, the top one to be exact. The same silver metal and dangling blue gemstones from her waist are wrapped around it. Thoughts of the anklet jingling in my ear flood my mind, refusing to leave no matter how many times or how fast I try to blink them away.

They only leave to make room for other thoughts. Thoughts of my fingers sliding between those sparkling blue stones, of my hands sliding under the metal wrapped around the curves of her body, of gripping the chains in my fist and using them to tug her onto me, of –

“Naruto?” My head snaps back into line, my eyes landing on Gaara’s scrunched features, annoyance – or worry? – lining his face. The heat trapped under my skin rises again, my embarrassment written in plain sight for everyone to see. “You haven’t been paying attention.”

“I – um…”

I know Gaara is looking at me like that and I don’t have to turn my head to know Shikamaru is rolling his eyes at my air-headedness, but still, I can’t help but flicker my eyes back toward the girl dripping in blue crystals and silver jewelry.

A soft “hmm” is released from the highest-ranking man in the room, pulling a flicker of my attention towards him. More heat rises from my skin, trailing all the way to the tips of my ears when I notice him staring at the same lady as me.

Why am I so air-headed? Why did I have to make my ogling so noticeable?

“Mineraru-Chan?” Gaara says the name softly, his voice almost cooing at the girl who happily perks up at the call of her Kazekage.

“Yes, Lord Fifth?”

Shivers race down my spine at the sound of her voice, an oasis in the constant thirst the heat of the Sand Village has left me with.

“Have you met my friend Naruto?” The girl shakes her head, strands of her hair dancing across her cheeks. My fingers ache to brush them behind her ear, even if it’s just to get a clear view of her face.

He waves her over, an order she obeys without a second thought. I can feel Kurama’s movements in my chest, his sudden anger trying to stir itself into me. Anger that seems to double when the girl settles next to Gaara who instantly slides his arm around her back, his hand resting between a gap in her chains.

“This is Naruto,” he mutters, nodding towards me. His eyes stay locked on her face, seemingly holding his breath as he takes in her reaction. That only upsets Kurama more, his growl soft but ever present in my mind. Slowly, Gaara drops his eyes from the girl, turning them back towards me with the slightest glimmer of happiness in them. “Naruto, this is Mineraru-Chan. My personal advisor.”

“I thought your advisor was some old geezer in a white robe,” I mutter, using my confusion as an excuse to drop my eyes over her again.

Gaara chuckles, chuckles at my statement, shaking his head back and forth as if my observation is hilarious. “That was Mineraru’s father. With the war successfully over and the Great Nations’ plans to rebuild our Villages and alliances, I figured my council could use some fresh faces and younger minds. Mineraru-San thought the same, so he retired. The council – as I - thought it would be best if his daughter took over. She is as smart and wise as he was and does well at maintaining both Shukaku and I when he so chooses to poke his head out of the sand.”

“How… nice,” I grumble, choosing to stare at the wall behind Gaara instead of directly at my friend. The friend I cannot stop imagining gnawing the hand off of.

Would it kill him to stop touching his precious advisor? As if she’s just an advisor. I spent enough time around Pervy Sage to tell a perv from a civilian.

“She is rather nice,” he agrees, finally dropping his touch from her waist. A simple movement that loosens some of the anger Kurama has pressed onto my chest. “Mineraru -”

I swear if I have to hear him breathe her name one more time I will actually gnaw off his hand.

“- This is Shikamaru. He is training to also become a Kage Advisor.”

“Oh,” the girl whispers, dropping her head to whisper something into Gaara’s ear. I can feel every pacing step Kurama takes, counting each – thirty-seven of them – until he stops, coincidentally at the same moment Mineraru pulls away from her Kazekage.

“I don’t think that’s so,” he mutters, waving his hand as if that could wave whatever she said away as well.

“I think it is, though I suppose it doesn’t matter,” she murmurs, her eyes chilled as they glance over Shikamaru.

Ours.

The grumble of Kurama’s voice makes me jerk, the sound catching me off guard just as much as his anger does. It’s not often that he speaks to me, but when he does it’s not something I can ignore nor am I ever prepared for. Even when I ask to speak to him, there’s a high chance he won’t respond.

What is he doing?

Who?

Shikamaru.

I let my focus slide over the friend sitting next to me, trying to figure out what could possibly have Kurama upset. Shikamaru’s face is blank, an empty sheet taking in whatever Gaara’s Advisor is doing that’s caught his attention while he tries to figure out what he’s going to do in return. “Can I help you?” He asks, keeping his tone flat and his face slaked of emotion.

“There’s nothing I need your aid with. I appreciate the offer though,” Mineraru answers, a soft smile resting on her face as she responds.

Fight him.

I cannot fight Shikamaru. Why would I do that?

He needs to know she’s ours.

You are insane. Go back to sleep.

Kurama grumbles at my dismissal but his pacing does end. The anger he’s been trying to push on me doesn’t though. It rests on my chest, successfully stirring a few drops into my own emotions. The snippy tone under Shikamaru’s words itches at the anger swirling in my veins, shifting ideas of forcing him to apologize to the front of my thoughts. He had no reason to speak to her like that. She didn’t do anything.

“Then please, be my guest in the end of your stares and whispers. If you can’t, I won’t blame you. I understand not very many people get the firsthand experience of my beauty.” A lazy smile rests on Shikamaru’s face, his eyes glimpsed with the hint of a challenge while my nerves glimpse more anger.

Mineraru’s smile grows, her face gleaming with the slyness of a fox. Shikamaru’s façade weavers for a moment, confusion and annoyance replacing the challenge that was in his eyes a second ago. Blankness slides onto his face again as he tries to work out how his answer turned out to be in the Advisor’s favor. A confusion we both hold.

“Apologize, young Lord, but deer don’t do it for me. They’re too skiddish, too unsure of themselves, too… set in their beliefs of how the world views them. They don’t challenge me enough.”

“And what does challenge you enough, Advisor?”

My fingers flex in my lap, Kurama’s growling echoing in my head the longer Shikamaru’s and Mineraru’s verbal warfare goes on. It pesters me, him causing the smile on her face and the eagerness in her voice.

What’s so interesting about Shikamaru? What does he find so interesting about her?

“I prefer raccoons and foxes. Raccoons because they’re cunning creatures, capable of adapting to any situation or environment they’re put in, always managing to survive the worst of situations. And they tend to flourish despite the labels people put on them, not because of them like some… other creatures. Plus, they remind me of feral teddy bears.”

Gaara’s movements don’t go unnoticed by me, the tipping of his chin to hide his face behind his Kazekage hat searing itself into my thoughts. His hat doesn’t do anything to hide the red tips of his ears though. “Mineraru,” he coos for what feels like the millionth time, refusing to tip his head back up.

The lulling of his voice and the verbal dick-riding the shiny-stoned girl did swirl in my ears, acting like a personal mood enhancer for both the fox in my chest and the anger in my veins.

I promise you, if he says her name one more time, we will have a rematch right here, right now. A rematch I’ll certainly win because of the lack of said feral teddy bear raccoon she loves so much.

“You shouldn’t say such things, much less in the presence of others,” Gaara mutters, slowly tipping his head up so he can look at the Goddess of Dripping Gemstones.

The amusement falls from her face, replaced with a trying look and a frown. “My Lord, I’m allowed to say whatever I wish, whenever I wish, especially about you. And at the moment I wish to say you won’t have an advisor for the next sixty minutes.”

“Mineraru-Chan,” Gaara calls, jumping to his feet the second she starts walking away. Unlike last time, his calls for her are answered by his office door slamming shut as the lady slips out of the room, off to do Lord knows what.

A euphoric sigh passes through the Kage as he settles back into his chair, the sound leaving behind a hint of a smile. The sight makes me sick to my stomach, courtesy of Kurama clawing at the bars of his cage.

Maybe I’m sick. Maybe that’s why he’s stirring so much.

“My apologies for Mineraru. She is… as sly but also as ornery as the foxes of her bloodline.”

“The foxes of her bloodline?” I mutter, my anger forgotten at the choice of Gaara’s words.

“Yes,” he hums, sending me a soft smile. “The Mineraru clan is rumored to be descendants of foxes who’d form their burrows over the finest minerals the land had to offer. It is a far stretch, I’m aware, but it does well explaining their common personality traits and their habit of mineral-based jutsus.”

“Oh.” The word feels heavy in the air, at least to me; Shikamaru doesn’t seem to notice the weight behind it.

“I don’t care what she is,” he grumbles, his usual grimace sliding in place as his eyes roll in their sockets. “But I do know for certain she’s a bitch.”

The insult falls short, overshadowed by the sound of sand slamming against the windows behind Gaara. My attention flickers between the cracked glass and the tugged tight smile on his face, the long forgotten crazed anger of his youth toying at the edge of his eyes. Anger that has Shikamaru’s attention fluttering between the same subjects as me.

Silence hangs in the room as the Kage glares at my partner for this mission, his eyes slowly blinking as his sand slithers across the shards it created. It feels like an eternity passes between Gaara’s outburst and the soothing of both his anger and his sand, a soothing that seems to do a half-done job.

“You have a lot to learn about the politics between villages, Shikamaru,” he hisses, the sound of his sand slithering across the floor adding to the hiss of his words.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he grumbles, taking a moment to flutter his eyes and further soothe himself. “A leader is only as good as their Advisor, and it seems that my advisor is rather well at moving through your game board. A tad of advice Shikamaru?” My friend grunts in response, letting Gaara know he’s listening. “In the Sand Village, insulting a member of the Kazekage’s direct line of councilors could be seen as treason. Seeing how an Advisor is the highest ranked of councilors, you’d be subjected to a rather painful execution, if that small law doesn’t get changed. I’m rather fond of Mineraru and don’t enjoy your presence, so I don’t plan to change it anytime soon.”

The threat hangs in the air, sliding imaginary nooses around Shikamaru’s and my throat while Gaara waits, eyes slit as he watches for a reaction.

“You seem to really like Mineraru,” I try joking, keeping my tone light in hopes of clearing out some of the tension. “Is she your girlfriend or something? She’s probably the only lady that could be, seeing how she can handle your attitude… and… all.”

That was dumb, really dumb. Why do the dumbest things spill out of my mouth?

“No, it would be an unfair situation for her.”

I can’t help the snort I let out, my eyes rolling as I flick through the humor of that statement. “Oh ya. How unfair for Mineraru to be loved by the Kage of her village. It must be torture to be drowned in the finest jewelry and the poofiest of dresses.”

“I assure you I pay her well enough to buy her own fine jewels and… poofy dresses. The fact that our paths intertwined as a prince and a handmaid, then as the Kazekage and a Shinobi, and finally as the Kage and an advisor means we’ve never been equal and never will be. It would be unfair and untrue to us to believe we will ever be equal. Why waste time trying to convince ourselves otherwise?”

“So…what? You think a Kage can never have a lover?”

“You’re an idiot, Naruto,” Shikamaru grumbles, his hands shoved into his pockets so he can toy with his pack and lighter. From how long we’ve been in here, I’m sure he’s aching for a smoke.

“That’s not what I said,” Gaara responds, his hands and most of his attention busy with a pile of paperwork on his desk. “If a Kage met a person as a friend, perhaps in their youth or maybe a coworker who was originally somewhat they’re equal, I believe that relationship could work out just fine. Even if a Kage decided to have a lover in another nation, I believe that would be capable of working as well, seeing how they don’t truly hold any power over the other person. With Mineraru, the power imbalance has always been lopsided, with me as her superior. So, I have no interest in her and never will.”

“Oh.”

Did I sound excited when I said that? Maybe I just think I did. Do the others think I’m excited about it?

My eyes flicker towards Shikamaru, the grump as pissy as ever with a look on his face that says if he doesn’t get a smoke soon he’s going to snap. When I glance towards Gaara, he seems irritated, like my question – or just our presence – is annoying him.

“If you would please,” the redhead starts, climbing to his full height, an action Shikamaru and I both copy. “I have a scheduled meeting to attend. We can finish this conversation at another time.”

That’s all it takes for Shikamaru to turn and head out of the room. I follow, after a quick goodbye to Gaara, with a pip to my step and my hopes swimming in the idea of running into his Advisor as we work our way out of the maze of hallways. Hopes that are trashed when we make it out of the Kazekage palace without even the slightest glance at her.

“Well,” I mutter, glancing around the busy streets of the Sand Village. “What are we going to do until Gaara calls for us?”

“I’m going to have a cigarette and then hunt down Temari. I don’t know what you’re going to do.”

We are going to track down the vixen.

———

Two days!

It took me two days to find the freakin Vixen just for her to be smothered by Gaara, again!

Despite that, my anger is having issues taking root. It’s still present, very present, with Kurama chewing on the bars of his cage while his growls drip throughout my body, demanding that I do something about Gaara being so close to the vixen.

Yet, the shiny stones sliding across her laced skin make it difficult to hold onto. The blue I first saw her in is nowhere to be found. The perfectly round, royal-blue-colored stones have been replaced with a forest-worthy green that drips over her skin in teardrops.

A soft clicking sound from her, pulling my attention from her chains to focus on her face instead. The sound is low, going unnoticed by everyone but me and Gaara, who takes a step away from her, successfully ending the slit-eyed glare he was receiving.

The Advisor turns her head as she ends her short-lived anger, the ponytail she has her hair styled in today swaying because of the moment. It’s fluffy, her ponytail, volumized as much as possible, I’m sure.

Touch it.

Touch what?

The tail.

I can’t go up to a random girl and touch her ponytail. That’s weird. Honorary Jiraya weird.

She’s not random. She’s our Vixen. Touch the tail.

I’m not touching the tail.

Naruto, touch the tail.

No.

I shake my head, trying to jangle Kurama’s voice out of it. Not that it ever works.

Touch it. Touch the tail. Naruto, touch. The. Tail.

“I’m not touching it!” I yap, my patience with the fox locked in my chest running thin. My outbreak rewards me with a group of eyes pinned in my direction, consisting of Gaara, his advisor, Shikamaru, and Gaara’s siblings; the group looking at me like I’m insane. Maybe I am going insane. It would explain Kurama’s sudden chatter spree. “I’m not crazy,” I grumble, storming over to join the group Gaara called me to.

“I know,” the Vixen murmurs, her head – and ponytail – tipping towards her Kage. “Sometimes they can be quite the chatterboxes, huh?”

“Something like that.”

My face feels warm. Is it warm? Oh, brother, I’m all pink again. Why is she still looking at me? Is it because my face is all pink?

It’s because she wants you to touch her tail.

I’m not touching her tail you freaky Fox!

“As you were saying, my Lord?” She prompts stupid dumb Gaara, her focus shifting back to him, along with her stupid dumb ponytail. The fluffiness of it runs across the back of her neck, making my fingers ache to just feel it, to run my hands through it, to grip it as I make her stupid dumb gems jingle.

What in the world has gotten into me?

The want to touch her tail. Touch it.

For Kage’s sake! If I touch it will you shut up?

Yes.

My exhale slides between my clenched teeth, my muscles pulled tight with annoyance. Annoyance with Kurama, with Gaara, with the pretty Vixen that’s made me feel crazy during my trip here. Though, a part of my tension has to do with touching her. Who knows how she’ll respond? Who knows how her Kage will respond, especially after his less than settle death threat towards Shikamaru the other day.

I try to focus on the conversation, I really do, but I just… can’t. The vixen won’t stay still, constantly swaying her weight between her feet or leaning toward Gaara to whisper in his ear like some professional secret keeper. Every time she moves, so do her chains, the falling sun catching on the crystals and making them twinkle. Her hair moves too, teasing me, begging me to hurry up and touch it already; something it and Kurama have in common at the moment.

When she shifts her weight in my direction again, I decide this is my chance. Just a small touch, one I doubt she’ll even notice. I can do this. I can do this.

I swear my fingers shake as I lift them up, letting them caress the ends of her hair. It feels nice rubbing against the pads of my fingers. So smooth, so soft against the calluses I’ve gained from missions and training.

My heart races are I twist strands around my fingers, slamming against my chest in both excitement and fear. A cocktail Kurama seems to feel as well. He paces in my chest, filling my head with chirps that almost sound like laughter.

Does this make you happy, Buddy?

Very much.

His answer is followed by louder chirps, a sound that I can’t help but smile at. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Kurama chirp before. Who knew something as simple as playing with a girl’s ponytail could make him so happy?

A soft clicking sound rattles into my ears, almost flowing right back out because of how soft it is. It comes out low but constant, almost flowing like a stream of chatter. Kurama copies the sound, his coming out lighter and higher-pitched. Still, the sounds make the dumb smile on my face grow. My tongue feels heavy with the want to copy it, to make my own clicking sounds to join the chattering back and forth.

I listen to it for a few moments, trying to get the sound down before I repeat it. When I do, my clicks are off rhythm, unlike the others, a mess of not quite right sounds, and my attempts at changing it to make them match the ones in my ears and my head. When I do finally get it right, the strands wrapped between my fingers are pulled away, the silk of it sliding out of my grasp.

Annoyance drowns out the happiness in my chest, yanking my attention upward to stare at the Vixen instead of her fluffy ponytail. Her face is blank as her eyelashes constantly flutter in tune with her blinking. If anything, she looks… confused? Like she can’t understand what I was doing.

What was I doing? Being a creep. Oh dear, I was acting like a total pervert.

“You… don’t know much about your clan, do you?” She mutters, her eyes falling before climbing their way back up me.

“Why do you say that?”

A chuckle to the side tugs my attention away from her, along with tugging more annoyance into my chest. Kankuro’s paint-framed smile is wide on his face, his chest vibrating with his laughter as he – and the rest of the group – stare at me. “She’s been telling you to fuck off for like five minutes now and all you’ve done is continue to pull on her ponytail and then sucked at telling her you want to play before telling her to fuck off too.”

“What?” Embarrassment drips coolly down my spine while it turns warm as it climbs up my neck to display across my face. Everyone saw me messing with her ponytail and everyone heard the stupid clicks I was trying to copy. Why must I constantly present myself as a dumbie?

“The clicking sound is called gekkering,” Gaara starts explaining, his attention wandering over his still very confused advisor. “When the sound is low, it’s a warning to stop or be stopped. Like a dog growling. When it’s high, it’s a sound meant to initiate playing, usually casual combat training as far as the Mineraru Clan is concerned. It tends to send mixed messages when you make both noises.”

“Oh,” I mutter, slowly letting my eyes settle on the Vixen again. Her confusion has been traded for a heavy pile of pissed off. Her eyes are slit as they bear into me, her lips thin and jaw clenched like she’s only seconds away from beating me to a pulp.

That is not good.

“My Lord,” she mutters, turning away from me with a flip of her ponytail. The ache from before settles into my finger bones, reigniting the want to play with the fluff softness of it. “I assume you’ll be fine if I leave? Father has been itching to go on a dusk walk and well, the setting sun is quite beautiful tonight.”

“I’ll be fine,” Gaara confirms, nodding his head in further confirmation.

That’s all it takes for the Vixen to turn out of the group and walk away, another flip of her ponytail sent my way to tease me. My eyes jump between watching her hair sway and watching her gems jangle from her movements. The whole time all I can think about is the twinkling rocks and how much I want to play with her hair again.

Maybe I should have Sakura do a psycho evaluation when we return home.

Or we could chase after our Vixen. Maybe we’ll even be rewarded with a shiny stone for catching her.

We are not doing that.

———————————————————————

[13as07]

Dearest #2

(Gaara Sabaku)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Ayama Nano]

Requested by: Anonymous

Word Count: 4,222

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Nick Name(s): Lord, Dearest, Betrothed, Hare, Lover, Lady

Sibling Incest

Female Received Oral

Peer Pressure

Possessiveness

Murder/Decapatation

Cuckold – ing

Blood Consumption

Choking

———————————————————————

My cheeks are pink, their blood heating up from the embarrassment of being spread open on my bed. Gaara and Baki stand at the edge of my mattress, discussing the state of my wounds as if I wasn’t present at all.

“They need to be cleaned, My Lord,” Baki repeats for the hundredth time, tempting Gaara to lose control of the anger that’s been building inside him all day.

“I don’t want anyone touching her. She’s mine. I’ll be damned if another person touches her in such intimate places.”

You didn’t seem to care about Father touching me in such places.

“I’m aware, My Lord but there is truly nothing we can do but keep her wounds clean. I can’t bandage them like other injuries. Pressure can be added to stop the bleeding but that is a temporary solution. She’s almost guaranteed to bleed again with any slight movement. You have to allow me to clean - ”

“I don’t have to do anything!” Gaara shrieks, his anger pushing his sand to explode all over the room, promising the constant findings of sand particles. That’s no different than now, the joys of living in a desert.

“Not if you want your precious wife to suffer. Don’t you think you’ve made her suffer enough today, Gaara?” The voice to answer my brother isn’t Baki this time, the surprise pulling everyone’s attention towards the door. The sand, stuck forever being my protector, wastes no time shooting up to form a wall that both blocks my view and blocks the newcomer’s sight of my bareness.

The wall falls quickly after its placement, the sight of my oldest brother and his nervous reck of a butler ending the short-lived mystery. Despite everything that’s happened today, Kankuro is back to his usual unfazed aura, a crooked smile on his face and a spark of joy in his eyes as he looks at me. Eyes that roam my body, always returning to the same place before circling me again.

If I didn’t feel embarrassed before, I definitely do now. Couldn’t Gaara and Baki let me slide into a skirt? At least then I’d be slightly more covered instead of laying out half-nude for everyone to see.

“Shouldn’t you be coddling your wife?” Gaara snaps, shifting himself to cut off our brother’s peeping. “Babying here after the oh-so-terrible torment Father put her through?”

“Temari is sleeping at the moment. Not much to do while she naps.” I can’t help the roll my eyes take, almost gagging at the thought of my fragile sister getting comforted by her husband as mine yells at the medic to not touch me. She’s a lucky thing and is mostly unaware of it, or refuses to be aware.

“Can’t you find something to do while you wait for her to awaken?”

“I did find something to do; check on my baby siblings. So, how are you two doing?”

“We’re fine.”

“Further traumatized and in a good deal of pain.”

Gaara’s answer and mine spill out at the same time, drawing a soft chuckle from our older brother and a glare from my husband-to-be. “I don’t know about you, Gaar, but I rather enjoy cleaning my wife. I’d be more than happy to lick your Dearest clean if you’re “too good” to do it yourself.”

Gaara’s spine snaps straight at what’s being referred to him, his sand once again showing his eagerness to keep every and anyone away from me, aside from our Father, of course. The element slithers across my skin, wrapping around my legs like a snake crawling its way up a tree.

My lover might not have touched me yet, despite the insistence from both Our Lord and our siblings, but he’s seen me be touched a thousand times. Seen quite a few of my breeding sessions with Rasa, have seen me used as a party gift – an excellent lap decoration and a thing to be lusted after by the manor’s guests, along with seeing our brother’s lagging stares and questionable hand placements. Jealousy truly is a two-way street between Father’s oldest and youngest children.

“I’m more than capable of cleaning my Dearest.”

“Then please, be my guest,” Kankuro pushes, gesturing towards me, daring Gaara to continue playing the game he’s set up.

“That’s something intimate, between a husband and wife within the privacy of their chambers.”

Another chuckle is pulled from the older boy, his smile growing from Gaara’s time-wasting. “Oh yes, little brother. Something intimate between a husband and wife, or a Father and his children, or a brother and his sister. I don’t know if you’ve caught on or not, but there’s no such thing as privacy within our home. There’s no such thing as normality in our home either. If you keep putting off being intimate with your wife, Our Lord might start thinking you’re not fit to rule. How can a leader please his people if he can’t even please his wife?”

The sand, now half-way up my rib cage, tightens itself around me. The sun always soaked into it coating my skin with an extra layer of warmth, the soft aching rhythm of the particles scrapping against the snips of bare skin offering a different sort of comfort. “I’m capable of making my Dearest pleased.”

“You’re capable of letting our dad hurt her, nothing else.”

“That’s not true!”

“Then prove it.”

The air feels thin, probably courtesy of Gaara’s sand flocking around him, waiting for him to move even an inch so it can rain terror on Kankuro. Why must every being of my family feed off terrorizing one another? Peasant life, even that of a bastard, seems like a paradise at the moment.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

My brothers keep staring at each other for a moment, one that feels like an eternity, before Gaara turns around to face me. His eyes trail over his sand, winding up my legs, crossing over my torso, and falling off right below my breasts just to repeat the path it’s created for itself. “I’m going to please you now.”

“Okay.”

You can’t even bring yourself to touch me. You’re going to murder me before you please me.

“Okay.”

Slowly, he falls to his knees, his movement cushioned by the fur rug “he” had made for me during one of his trips outside the village. The sand so set in becoming my skin tightens every other breath before evening out again, making me, and only me, capable of reading through the stone surface Gaara is keeping in place. He doesn’t want to do this. I don’t want him to do this. A small part of me believes Kankuro doesn’t want him to do it either, but a bigger part of me doesn’t understand why he’s pushing it in the first place.

My skin almost burns when Gaara wraps his hand around one of my ankles, using it to slowly drag me down the mattress. His fingertips jitter against me, a jitter that picks up once my feet are hanging off the edge, the end of the bed cupping the back of my knees. For the first time in my life, I see uncertainty flutter through his eyes.

The split second strikes fear through me. Gaara is always sure, about everything. He speaks with certainty, acts with certainty, and demands with certainty. I can’t imagine a world where he’s uncertain, and yet, here it is, in the comfort of my room, as he’s forced into connecting with me because of the bullying nature our brother inherited from our Father.

His eyes constantly jump between looking at me and looking down, taking in the mess that’s been slowly dripping out of me, falling to stain my sheets once again. My own hands shake as I reach down, my touch feather-like as I toy with the uneven ends of his hair. I half expect him to snap my wrist and scream at me for daring to touch him; the other half expect his sand to lunge further up and choke me to death.

Neither happens.

Instead, Gaara’s lashes flutter as his eyes fall closed, scrunched together as his head tilts the slightest, gently jolting back and forth like he’s trying to think a strategy through. His movements are slow, further showing his uncertainty as he leans closer to me, his breath sending goosebumps across the parts of my thigh it brushes against.

After a second, his head stops jolting, falling still in my hands for a moment before he ducks downward, a sloppy and harsh kiss being stabbed into the skin he’s decorated with chills. From there, his movements stale, eyes forced open to glance up at me before they fall again. My betrothed’s… kisses climb further up my thigh, their roughness simmering down the further they climb.

Gaara seems to have his certainty back, at least until he runs out of space to slide his lips against. Again, his demeanor flutters, this time gained back quicker than before. His tongue slithers out, stumbling for a moment before it finds its footing sliding across the skin between my thigh and intimates.

I know what he’s doing, he’s following our Father’s steps from the last time he forced Gaara to watch a breeding session. My heart falls at the knowledge that he’s not trying to make me feel good on his own, that he’s relying on my past torments to seem like he’s pleasing me.

How lovely the life of a peasant would be.

Gaara works through the same motions Our Lord always does. “Teasing” my edges with his tongue before slowly dancing between my folds, ultimately ending with his tongue circling my clit with too much pressure and too much speed.

I stay still in my spot, my focus loose as I let the constant soothing of my lover’s sand lull my daydreams across my mind. Imagine life as a village girl, what do they do all day? Work, but what kind of work? There has to be more for a villager to do than the job my Mother took. Someone has to plant and care for the foods I eat. There must be more than farmers though. Someone makes the dresses and other clothes I like so much. How are clothes made? The fur of animals, sometimes. Do the farmers and clothes makers work together? They have to –

“Pay attention!” The yell, along with the sand that slides up my body, wrapping thick layers around my throat, catches my attention, dragging my mind out of my daydreams.

The adrenaline it causes jerks my body upright, sitting me up instead of lying like I have been for the past… I’m not sure how long I’ve laid here.

My hands busy themselves, trying to shovel off the sand around my neck as my eyes skip around the room. Kankuro looks unamused, the same disappointed look always on Our Lord’s face now making home on my brother’s. Gaara reflects the anger that takes place when the disappointment isn’t present, his eyes hard, and his hands shaking as they grip my legs, this time from his temper instead of his uncertainty.

“Way to go, Gaar, you sucked so bad she almost fell asleep.”

“She wasn’t sleeping!” Gaara yelps, his focus switching from me to Kankuro, another cock show ramping up. His hands quickly release me as he crawls to his feet, fully turning away from me as he picks his fight. “Even if she was, unlike Temari, my Dearest actually had a punishment to serve. She has wounds to heal, not just tears to shed for sympathy.”

The disappointment poking out from the purple streaks quickly melts into anger, Kankuro not taking the insults to Temari well. “She’s as much a victim of Dad’s tantrums as the rest of us.”

“Hardly,” Gaara crackles, his hands balling up at his sides. His sand responds, sliding off of me to start forming a slow twister around him, just like it did in Father’s chambers. “You come swooping in to save her every single time.”

“Don’t be upset with me because you don’t protect your wife.”

“I can’t and you know that!” Gaara shrieks, another explosion of sand decorating my room in response to his temper. I wonder if I’d ever be able to convince him to get me a summer home, somewhere to stay sometimes – all the time – without sand – and without him. Somehow, I doubt it.

“If that was truly the case, you’d let others help.”

“You mean I’d let you help.”

“What else would I mean?”

My lover glances over his shoulder, his eyes on me pulling my thoughts into the present again. Like before, his sand settles around me, tighter than before. If I didn’t know Gaara, I’d think he’s frightened of Kankuro snatching me from him, but that’s impossible.

Gaara doesn’t love anyone but Gaara.

“You just want an excuse to use what’s mine because you’re tired of your overused and preppy wife.”

Fury shutters through Kankuro before he gets his temper under control, something our Father and youngest brother will never be capable of. “I simply want our sister to be healthy and happy. Pleasing her would not only clean her wounds but give her a better memory of such actions. She’s never going to feel safe sexually if our Father is the only one to ever touch her.”

“So you do just want to be sexually explicit with her.”

“No, Gaara, I don’t,” he sighs, his hands coming up to rub his face, his makeup smearing outside their perfectly maintained lines. I guess they’re not perfect since the one crossing his mouth was smeared over an hour ago by Rasa. “I couldn’t care less who makes her feel better, as long as she does feel better.”

“You really don’t care?”

“No.”

“So if I had your favored servant do it, you wouldn’t be upset?”

“Be my guest.”

Gaara stales for a beat, sizing his competition’s words, trying to figure out whether they’re truthful. “Servant boy,” he finally calls, snapping his fingers after the short attention pull. By the time the snap is no longer audible, his sand is wrapped around the poor servant, tugging him towards us. “You heard your master, please the Lady of the Manor.”

The butler is stuck standing inches away from my betrothed, his nerves shining as bright as the harsh sun. I almost feel bad for the man. Just as I’m certain he’s going to burst into tears, Gaara steps aside and releases the restraints he’s placed.

I wonder if he’s too frightened to disobey orders or if he’s too frightened to listen.

The servant’s steps are unsteady as he makes his way to my bed, almost tripping over his balance as he falls into a kneel. “My… my Lady,” he stutters out, his eyes jumping from his master, to mine, to Baki, before landing on me again. “Is it alright if I…”

His words trail off, not that I’m paying attention to them anyway. I had all but forgotten my siblings’ tutor was in the room before the butler tried to silently plead to him. Baki is the closest thing to a friend I’d consider Rasa to have. He always seems to be present in situations like this, but I believe this is the first time I’ve ever noticed the tightness in his pants during them. I wonder if he was a cuckold for my Father and his wife, or if my presence in the manor has awakened that.

The wetness of lips against my knee jerks my attention away from the oldest man in the room, pulling it back to the peasant who’s all but begging me to spread my thighs for him. It’s almost cute, if not a bit scary, to have a man not only ask but beg me for sexual attention. The joy it brings me seems to fall short in Gaara’s end. He’s about ready to murder the man at my feet.

Slowly, I peel my legs apart, letting myself relax just enough to situate my weight onto my hands. “Thank you, My Lady. Thank you. Thank you,” the terrified thing cries, his lips moving slow kitten kisses over the fat of my thighs. It doesn’t take long for the small signs of graduated to crawl up my legs, their focus now on twirling up my hip. It almost seems… calming to have someone focus on something besides shoving their way into me to prove a point, whether that be to me or another man.

The servant’s trembling hands chase after his lips, carefully pushing my shirt up so his kisses can continue to climb. It feels intoxicating, the gentleness, the nervousness, even if it’s because he’s worried he’ll piss off his master or mine. Still, I’m able to convince myself he’s worried about hurting me. My eyes flutter shut by the time his attention crosses the first of my ribs, a pleased – or perhaps peaceful – sigh spilling out of me.

The noise seems to calm the man a bit, his hands not shaking as much as he shoves my shirt over my head. His movements freeze when the material hits my bedding, but when nothing happens, he continues his movements. This time, little nips to my skin are mixed into his kisses, sinking down my body to start the ever-so-rare tingles to tickle my nerves.

It’s so rare that I get to enjoy what a man does to me. I’ll have to remind my Maid to send this servant a thank-you gift. Speaking of my Maid where is –

My thoughts are cut short, a moan I’ve only heard from Rasa’s concubines filling my room, this time from my throat instead of that of another woman. The servant has slid his fingertips under the band of my bra, one hand sliding teasing circles against my nipple as the other one struggles to undo the clip situated on my back.

“My Lady?” He mutters, his focus shifting from my chest to my face.

“Servant boy?” I moan, my weight pushed off of my hands so I can bury them into his short-kept hair. I tighten my grip on the butler when he successfully unclamps my bra, dragging him down with me when I lay myself back on my mattress. My grip loosens enough to slide the material off before I grip his hair again, my hands following as he tilts his head down. “Dear Lords,” I exhale, my body feeling aflame when the hand on my chest is replaced with his mouth.

Just as a tease of suction is present against my nipple, it’s ripped away from me, replaced with a load crack, the heavy weight of his body, and a warm thickness covering the majority of my nudity.

“Gaara!” Kankuro yelps, the anger he’s done so good at controlling now poking out between his letters.

Slowly, my sight falls, taking in the scene of a now headless butler, his head still gripped in my hands, his lifeless body leaned against mine, and his blood leaking from the wound. The reddened river slides across my body, slithering down my sides to further ruin my bedding. Gaara’s sand, still present around the servant, and now present on me once again, mixes with the blood, almost egging it to fall off of me quicker.

“Kankuro,” my ordered husband responds, almost bored as he glances over the mess he’s made.

“You killed my servant!”

“You seemed so eager to lick my Dearest clean, I figured watching your servant do it would make you jealous, so I decided to let you do it instead. You said it yourself, a good leader pleases his people.”

My eyes flutter as I keep staring at the dead man bleeding out on me. I don’t know whether to scream or cry. I don’t know whether Our Lord or Gaara is scarier. I don’t know whether I want to live past tonight or not. I don’t know what I did to piss off fate so much that it would put me in this situation. I don’t know what to do to make fate happy with me again.

“You’re insane if you think I’m going to do that.”

Gaara’s head snaps toward our brother, boredom no longer present on his face. “I don’t think you have much of a choice Kankuro, but I’ll give you one anyway. You either clean the mess you caused or you join your disrespectful servant with the ancestors.”

“You wouldn’t seriously kill me, would you Gaar?” All the anger present in him before has been washed out by fear, a situation I’d rather enjoy if I wasn’t currently trying not to panic because of the dead body still on top of me.

“Wouldn’t I?”

Two words are enough to get Kankuro across the room, sinking into the spot two others have already been in today. I don’t know whether to thank him or curse him out when he pushes the body off of me, snatching the detached head from my hands before adding it to the pile of lifeless limbs and red inking soaking into the floorboards of my room.

Fear mixes with the arousal still braided into my nerves, making for a stomach-curling mess of emotions. A man just died, on top of me, because of Gaara’s anger over… something. Yet, all I can think about is how intoxicating Kankuro’s tongue feels sliding across my stomach, lapping up the sticky copper-scented blood that coats it.

It doesn’t take long for my fingers to slide under his hood, twirling themselves around the brown strands he always keeps hidden. My legs wrap around him too, settling a strong grip around his waist. Ever the pushover he is, Kankuro gives in, letting me drag him closer to myself.

“Calm down, Hare,” he murmurs, his licks becoming shorter and softer as they crawl further up.

“I can’t. I don’t want to. I can’t,” I weasel out, my breath becoming that of a dog’s pants. This I pathetic, I’m pathetic. A bit of attention from someone other than Rasa and I’m falling apart.

“You can, you just need to breathe.” The smoothness of his voice has my hips acting on their own, shoving themselves down so I can grind against him. “Hey. Hey, hey, hey,” he coos, his hands sliding under my knees, his fingers wrapping a thick grasp around them. “That’s not calming down.”

His touch is quickly ripped from my legs, Gaara’s sand forcing its way between our skin, upsetting my already shot nervous.

Why can’t the men in my life let me have a smudge of pleasure?

“Kank - ”

“Kankuro!” Gaara starts, getting cut off by a very unhappy squeal.

Slowly, the man of the hour lifts his head, leaving the spot he was just licking clean to sizzle with unmet needs, so he can turn his head towards the call for him. “‘Morning, ‘Mari,” he greets, his usual slopping smile back on his face. “How was your nap?”

Our sister stands in the doorway of my room, her ink-black, silk smooth robe hanging off her frame, a matching pajama set clinging to her body like a second skin. No wonder Kankuro is so crazy about his wife. Her hair is down for once, framing her sharp features that have only been sharpened by her anger. “What in the world do you think you’re doing?” She barks, her tone matching the one our Father held not so long ago.

“What I ordered him to do,” Gaara butts in, replacing his anger with boredom again.

“And what gives you the right to order him to provide for your harlot of a wife?”

So much for his boredom holding place.

Another snap with another moment passed and Gaara has Temari in the trap the servant spent his last moments in. “I assumed this gave me the right to order him around. Perhaps I was wrong, was I?”

Temari’s hands are digging at the sand sliding across her throat, her chest already pumping faster to try and make up for the missing oxygen her lungs crave. “N… no!” She stumbles out, water collecting at the edges of her eyes.

My betrothed’s anger doesn’t last long, his sand quickly releasing its prisoner. “I’m getting quite bored and tired of the antics today. Would you two please leave us alone?” The full sentence isn’t out before Kankuro is heading for the door, Temari hot on his heels, yelling her head off about him ‘being unfaithful’, leaving us – almost – alone.

Baki still holds his post at the door, eyes strained on Gaara, waiting to be told what to do. “Stupid little man,” my lover calls, turning his focus to Father’s ‘loyal’ servant. “What am I going to do with my Dearest?”

“May I speak freely, My Lord?” Gaara thinks over the request for a moment before nodding yes, giving the Jonin what he asked for. “Perhaps your wife has been left… unfulfilled. Life can become unpleasant quickly when you’re left alone, only acknowledge to be used and abused by those in your life. My Lord, even the dogs that guard the manor and the camels that provide transportation are offered enrichment from time to time. Why shouldn’t your wife be offered the same thing?”

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[13as07]

Dearest #1

Gaara Sabaku

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Samice]

Requested by: Anonymous

Word Count: 4,081 Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

It’s sort of what you asked for; same themes as my Birthright story but darker in a sense? It’s less unaware/returned love and more abuse aware/unwanted alinement story lined

Nick Name(s): Dearest, Little Hare, Bastard, Lord

Sibling Incest

Father/Child Incest

Betrothals

Verbal, Physical and Sexual Abuse

Rape (oral and intercourse)

Hair Pulling

Let me know if you want more parts

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“What’s the point of marriage?” Our Lord booms, his voice reaching every corner of his bed chambers. My eyes roll before I can stop them, getting me a pointed look from my Maid and I’m sure a silent prayer sent to her God, thanking him for having my Father’s back facing me.

“To show our solidarity to the village,” Kankuro – the oldest of my brothers – answers, his tone as lazy as the limbs he has hanging off our Father’s reading chair. The blazing sun shines through the large windows that make up a wall of the bedroom, lighting up the purple streaks on his face like fireworks. My Maid always says it’s unfaithful that I insist Temari got the better of our brothers, but that doesn’t stop me from holding the thought. She’s not the one that has to deal with Garra’s tantrums and mood swings.

“To waste my time and take my freedom,” the oldest of the batch grumbles, getting a pointed look from her maid in response. It also gets her a glare from our Father, who focuses on the four of us instead of the overview of the village he gets from his wall of windows. Way to go Temari.

“To increase our power,” Gaara answers this time, his eyes flicking toward me. The emptiness of his features quickly sharpens with anger, his eyes torn away from me quick enough that I’m almost convinced he didn’t actually look at me.

Our Lord’s patience is wearing thin, Gaara’s anger reflecting on our Father’s face.

“To produce,” I butt in, trying to smooth out the anger quickly bubbling into the room, for once not just coming from my brother. “An heir for the village,” I add on, my hand fluttering in a fast rhythm to fan myself.

It’s one of my favorite ‘gifts’ from Gaara – my hand fan. Its main color is a dark red with pale sandy-colored lace framing the top edges and the transition from the fan itself to the gold metal that spreads the material out. It’s as elegant as everything else I own, showing off the generational wealth my family has built throughout the centuries of leading the village. Not to mention it makes a good nervous tick; it’s not like anyone would find a Desert Princess fanning herself weird.

“For when Gaara and I are no longer capable of ruling. Than Kankuro’s and Temari’s children - ”

“Child,” my sister cuts me off, her anger adding to the glares aimed at me.

“ - will stand as a spare, in case tragedy strikes us. Sickness, war, death, or anything else Gaara is unable to protect us from.”

“There’s nothing I’m incapable of protecting you from, Dearest,” Gaara growls, the venom in his voice so thick I can almost see it spilling past his lips. If I didn’t know any better I’d think he’s possessed by a venomous river frog instead of a one-tailed sand raccoon. Egotistical little as –

“Good job, my Little Hare,” Our Lord coos, his anger melting back into his usual expression of disinterest and disappointment. At least it’s better than his anger.

I despise the nickname Father has given me. It’s a play on two things; his wish for Gaara and me ‘to breed like rabbits’ and my shinobi style - or lack thereof. I don’t have a unique hobby like Kankuro, I’m not “in touch” with wind chakra like Temari, and I don’t have a beast settled next to my soul like Gaara; I have the speed of a rabbit and a good handle on how to use a knife. The moral of the story, I do well at basic taijutsu and ninjutsu, not so much the flashy stuff.

Not that it matters any. Father says being an active shinobi “risks the future of our village”. When I point out Gaara being active does the same thing, it tends to get me a lecture and one too many bruises. I think he just doesn’t care enough to give me the same training as my siblings. He makes it pretty clear that they’re the prodigy children of Karura, a strong shinobi of our village, whereas I’m the daughter of a civilian of our village, with no special chakra to “bless me with the skills of a shinobi”. Besides a good consort looks pretty and soothes her Kazekage’s mind. All I “need” is the ability to protect myself until Gaara can get to me.

It’s bullshit.

A lot better bullshit than if my Mother would have had a boy. Rasa needed a wife for his heir, not a bastard son.

I think that’s why Temari and me butt heads so much. She sees her betrothal to Kankuro and position as my advisor as a cage, whereas I see my betrothal to Gaara and my position as Consort Kasekage as a blessing, even if it does act as a double-sided sword. That, and the distaste of it being soaked in the anger of my siblings and Father alike. The only one who seems to not care is my oldest brother. If anything, he seems thrilled with the idea of Gaara becoming the next leader of our village instead of himself.

“Since you’re so smart, Little Hare, what makes a good wife?” Our Lord’s question ticks anger up my spine. I’m capable of being more than a good wife, more than his bastard of a daughter.

“That depends on what Gaara considers a good wife,” I answer, my fan flicking faster as my anger grows. Screw Rasa for being an abusive paranoid control freak, screw Gaara for living, screw Karura for dying, and screw my Mother for having no spine. Life wouldn’t have been that bad as a peasant girl.

“That’s a political answer.”

“I’m being raised to excel at political duties, am I not?”

“You’re being raised with a smart mouth,” My Father hisses, the anger I always see in Gaara leaking out of the man in front of me. “Do not think just because I graced you with the title of future consort, that you get to speak to me how you wish. You’re still nothing more than a bastard, only useful to be bred and beaten. Perhaps you need to be reminded of that.”

My anger quickly ices over with fear, the fan in my hand falling still as Our Lord marches across the room, beelining toward me. “I assure you I don’t need to be reminded, Father,” I rush out, my tongue feeling heavy and my feet feeling glued to the floorboards.

“Oh,” he cackles, a smug smile crossing his face. The sharpness of his teeth and the wickedness of his expression only dripping more fear into me. “So now you think you know better than me?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“But it is,” Father’s chilled voice caresses me, his footsteps stopping inches away from me. His hand moves slowly, almost kindly as it runs along my hip, crawling up the side of my body. “Maybe I’ve been too lenient with you, Little Hare.”

Absolutely not.

It’s a constant reminder to me that my Father favors Temari over me, just as it is with Gaara and Kankuro. He’d be a happier man if he stopped after two; his respectful, golden child, legitimate daughter, and his first-born son, the spitting image of himself.

It doesn’t take long for Our Lord’s hand to stop being gentle, harshness quickly replacing the almost loving touches. His fingers jump up, fisting a chunk of my hair he uses to drag me across the room.

“I’m so sick of my children being disrespectful brats!” He screams, the volume of his voice seeming capable of shaking the whole room.

My fan falls out of my hand, the band wrapped around my wrist and connected to the bottom of the item stopping it from falling to the ground. “Father, please,” My begging begins, my hands now busy trying to loosen his hold, or at the very least, soften the ache starting to form at my roots. “I didn’t mean anything disrespectful by it.”

“Now you’re calling me a lair!” He shrieks, throwing me onto the bed situated in the middle of his chambers. There’s no time to get my balance before Father is over me, his frame pushing into my back, pinning me to the perfectly made sheets. “I’m lying. You’re not disrespectful, I’m simply lying!” He continues to yell, his hands shoving their way between myself and the bed.

“I’m sorry! I won’t disrespect you again, I promise, Father. Please!” I wail, my hands gripping the bedding, trying to drag myself out from under him; it was a dumb mistake, one that only angers him more.

“And now you’re trying to get away from your punishment! I should have listened to my advisor when he told me not to have another child, but no. I wanted to show my love for my son, to give him a fraction of what his birth promised, to at least let him have his wife since everything else was gifted to his brother. Do you not want me to love your brother?”

“Of course I - ”

My mind shuts off right alongside my tongue at the feeling of Rasa’s fingertips wrapping around my waistband, shoving down my bottoms and everything under them in one harsh movement. My thighs sizzle at the roughness of the material against them before they too fall quiet.

I so wish my mind would stay off, but I’m not blessed enough for that to happen. It turns back on at the sound of him moving behind me, his clothes shuffling around until they join mine on the ground, still wrapped around our ankles.

“Apologize,” he hisses, his hands firm on my hips as he lines himself with my body. “Apologize,” Rasa repeats, his tip making itself known, sliding back and forth through my intimates with the threat to push in.

“Father,” Gaara’s grizzly bear voice rings out, stalling my assaulter’s actions and pulling my attention toward him. His eyes are hard, sand turned to stone because of the storms going on around it. His chest pumps faster than usual, his temper shown from the strain of his muscles to the beat of his lungs. “Don’t you think she’s been punished enough?”

He stays frozen for a moment, almost shocked to hear his youngest son speak to him. Maybe he is shocked. I can only remember three – maybe four – times my brother has ever directly spoken to our Father, all of which held tones of anger and resentment, unlike now. Now, his voice is even, calm, almost deadly as he makes his thoughts known.

“No, I don’t,” Our Lord finally responds, shoving himself into me. My eyes water, tears decorating the edge as the pain sets in, already starting the aches that’ll live between my thighs for the next week. “But you are more than welcome to take your sister’s spot and be a good husband to her.”

For a second hope flickers through me before I remember the type of family I was born into, before I forget it’s my own Father causing this torment, before I’m able to forget my brothers and sister are present in the room and the only one that said anything said it out of ownership, not protectiveness.

Gaara’s eyes lag on me before he pulls them away again, glaring out the windows lightening up the room. His jawline pops out from his tan skin, just another body part feeling his rage instead of our Father. How can he instant he can protect me from anything and then turn a blind eye to an assault within the same five minutes? He truly is his Mother’s child, turning a blind eye to Rasa’s behaviors.

My body turns aflame, following every touch to it, trying to burn the sensation off my skin. It doesn’t do much, only leaves me more uncomfortable as I play an unmoving part in my own life.

Our Lord wastes no time making himself feel good. He thrusts his hips against mine, filling the silent room with the sound of his skin slapping against mine. His pants for breath ghost over my ear, acting as another reminder of the dog he is. One hand grips the fat of my hip, promising his fingerprints to be left behind as the other one skates up my back, finally resting a grip around the back of my neck, my hair cut between and being pulled in time with the pattern he’s set.

My body refuses to ease up and accept the assault, my muscles tightening every passing moment. Like usual, Father takes this as a challenge, shoving himself into me hard to chase what little euphoria he has left in life. To no one’s surprise, my body gives in quicker than his determination, parts of me ripping and dripping out slow but thick salted drops of blood. Finally, my tears drop alongside my bloodshed, my eyes decorating the sheets as my wounds decorate the bed skirt.

“You truly are good for breeding, do you know that?” Rasa asks, more of his weight pushing into my body, the weight added to his grip threatening to snap my neck under the pressure. “Gaara is a lucky man.”

My eyes focus well enough to stare at my betrothed, something I almost regret doing. His body is still tight, eyes still glaring out the windows as the sand ever present around him slithers, spinning around him like a tornado threatening to start another storm that’ll leave the manor with a month’s worth of repairs. Slowly, my eyes tear away from him, skipping through the room before settling on my oldest brother. Kankuro’s body isn’t any loser, his once loose arms are now formed into steel, trying to choke out the parts of the chair they’re wrapped. His eyes flicker quickly, almost as if to fight back tears he refuses to let Father see.

When I can’t take the sight any longer, my eyes switch focus again, searching the room for my sister, searching the room for her understanding. After all, her favoritism might save her from punishments as harsh as mine, but it doesn’t save her from punishments like mine. When I find Temari, her attention is already set on me, eyes glued to Our Lord and me. Her expression is set and so deep you could mistake her for a marble statue. It almost seems like envy is what she’s holding so close, but that can’t be it. It must be a play on the light or a screwed vision from the tears still dropping out of my eyes.

“Dear Gods, Little Hare,” Rasa rumbles, his grip on me tightening before he uses it to shove me down, forcing me to meet his hips. The pain the added force causes is enough to force a yelp out of my throat, a sound that’s encouraged by a grumbled moan that silks across my cheek. “You’re a useful whore like your mother,” the insult spills out right along with his sperm that warms my inners and makes the wounds he caused to sting instead of just ache.

A laugh echoes in the room that’s been left silent since Father stopped moving. The sound seeming like nails on a chalkboard, pulling everyone’s heads toward my sister. The giggle ends instantly like it wasn’t supposed to exist in the first place. If it wasn’t for everyone else looking at her, I’d think I made it up.

“What’s so funny Temari?” Rasa asks, slowly lifting the weight of his body off of me.

“Nothing,” she rushes out, her voice shaking and eyes skating around the room, trying to look anywhere but Father.

“It was funny enough for you to laugh,” he points out, slowly dragging himself out of me, taking his time so he can soak up the feeling of me unwillingly wrapped around him. “Maybe you need your mouth cleaned out, it should help you tell the truth easier.”

“Father,” my sister murmurs, our abuser’s attention on her long enough for me to squeeze out from under him. He doesn’t notice or simply doesn’t care now that he’s caught himself another child to fixate on.

I scurry off the bed, my movements repeatedly tripped by the clothing still wrapped around my feet. Despite the obstacle setting me back, I still beeline for Gaara, or more specifically, his sand, like I’ve been conditioned to my whole life. As expected, the element meets me the second my foot touches the floor, the grainy material wrapping under me to keep our Father’s touch and the eyes of everyone off of me.

It wipes at the blood seeping from me quicker than before, doing its best to soak the stickiness caused by both Rasa’s and my bodily fluids. The next layer to wrap around me does its best to shove my clothes up, making it easier to dart towards its’ owner.

A cry bubbles in my throat when my body collides with his, even if his muscles are still pulled tight and his body heat reflects the temper brewing below his skin. If it was possible, Gaara would draw himself tighter because of my touch against him, but he can’t, so he doesn’t. He simply waves his hand, his sand slithering between us to pull my body off of him without the need to touch me himself. “Pull yourself together, Dearest,” his whisper is harsh but soft, barely audible over the mixed sound of Temari crying, Kankuro yelling, and the tsking sound of his sand moving around us. “You’re just setting yourself up to his target again.”

Tears well in my eyes again, my body craving the comfort I haven’t received since being ripped from my Mother. How long has it been now? Two years? Five? Ten? The world seems to move differently, being confined to the manor and left alone. My presence is rarely requested, demanded for village events, martial and political lessons – like this was supposed to be, the off chance Father is bored and wishes to bred me, or the almost nonexistent times Gaara wishes for company.

Gaara’s sand releases me, its layers thinning out slowly as if it doesn’t want to release us from the shelter it’s providing. Sadly, it does eventually stop its safety, choosing to worm figure eights between our feet instead.

My attention is pulled to the scene in the middle of the room, despite not wanting to focus on it. I can’t help it though, even if I wish I could.

Father has settled on the bed, his legs spread wide enough to force my sister between them, her head shoved down by the hand he has gripping the ends of her ponytails. Temari’s hands grip his thighs, her nails digging into them as she chokes down the part of him that was just forced into me. I can feel the sickness settle in the back of my throat as I think of the taste of him and my blood mixed on her tastebuds.

Her gargles are mostly covered by the sound of Kankuro fighting with our father, his voice screaming for him to stop and let Temari go. His yells are all he has to fight back at the moment, Our Lord’s sand wrapped around his son, using the element to hold him in place. Still, our brother tries to fight it off, struggling to free his joints from the position they’re stuck in. All Father does in return is chuckle, his hand jerking up and down to force his oldest daughter to shift up and down himself.

Despite the scene in front of me, all I can feel is jealousy and envy, rooted in the fact that even though Kankuro knows he can’t do anything to stop Father, he still tries. That’s more than Gaara has and will ever do for me. At least Temari knows her betrothed loves her, well mine wouldn’t even use his sand to try to put the fire out if my clothes caught.

Temari got the better of our brothers and I don’t care if that makes me unfaithful.

“If you care so much I’ll give you the same proposal I gave your brother; you are welcome to take her spot, to show her the sacrifices a husband is supposed to make for his wife.” Rasa’s eyes settle on us during the second half of his little speech, his words shooting daggers into Gaara like he failed a test set just for him. Maybe he did, but I doubt it. Our Father is a man who likes to cause pain in any way possible.

“Gladly.”

The single word that probably lights Temari with gratitude, boils my blood with more jealousy, especially when Rasa allows it. Within the blink of an eye, my sister is curled on the ground, coughing and huffing for air while Kankuro quickly slides into her place, his hands softer against our shared parent’s thighs and his mouth sliding into place without the force our sister needed to “encourage” her to provide.

“One of these days,” the voice of the cruelest man I know, comes out softer than it has all day. “I need to enjoy my favored son and favored daughter at the same time.”

Good riddance.

Maybe if Temari was put through the same torture as me, just once, she wouldn’t laugh at my pain so easily.

Almost complete silence fills the room again, the perfection destroyed by the slushy sound of Kankuro providing and the occasion cough from my sister. Even the fractions of perfections are destroyed, smashed even smaller by Father’s small curses as he finishes down his favored son’s throat.

Just as I did, my older brother jerks away from Rasa, putting as much distance between himself and the monster without tempting him to lose his control again.

“Get out,” the monster hisses almost instantly, his chest still popping from his wind down.

He doesn’t have to ask us twice, the four of us quickly heading toward the door. Luckily for me, I’m the first one to slide out, my Maid hot on my heels. Temari quickly follows, her servant in tow too. Kankuro follows his wife close behind, his steps filled with more anger than fear, unlike the butler he’s occupied to serve him while in the manor. Gaara is the only one that lags, his steps stopping as soon as the door slams shut.

I glance over my shoulder for a moment, catching a glimpse of my ordered lover whispering to Baki – my siblings’ trainer – before the jonin starts his path toward me. Fear grips my chest, egging to move faster, to get to my room sooner, to itch more with the feeling of Rasa’s touch still on my skin.

“Lady Sabaku!” Baki yells after me, the sound of his shoes picking up pace echoing down the hallway. I pretend not to hear him, almost dashing down the corridors of the manor.

When the last corner to my room grows closer, the fear in my chest loosens.

At least it does until I turn the corner and slam straight into Gaara. My balance breaks, quickly put back together when his sand wraps around me, stabling me before I can fall. “It’s impolite to ignore someone when they’re speaking to you.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” I snap, my tongue hanging loose before I gather myself enough to restrain it.

His eyes flicker closed, the hands clinging to his biceps tightening just like the sand wrapped around me. As soon as the pressure is present against my body, it’s wiped away, Gaara’s sand falling to dance around my feet instead of clinging to my skin. “Dearest,” he hisses, the ever-present venom thicker now than it was in our Father’s room.

“Gaara.”

His eyes snap open, the green of his irises digging into my soul, slowly ripping it apart piece by piece. “Baki will be providing you medical attention.”

“Maybe I don’t want it.”

A hackle of a laugh spills from my assigned husband, a smile wicked enough to compete with Rasa’s spreading across his face. “You haven’t figured it out by now? You have no choices in your life. You do what you’re told regardless of who here gives you the orders. This is especially true when our darling Father or I give them. You’re nothing more than property, Dearest.”

———————————————————————

[13as07]

Hi author, I'm glad you're back. My question is, will you continue to update the Shikamaru book, which is a teacher x student story? I hope you read my messages. Thanks anyway. I love your stories.

Hello!

I do plan to continue it, I just haven’t settled on the direction it’s going to go yet. I’m glad you enjoy my writing!

~ Your Author

[13as07]

Hello My Darlings!

I’m sorry for going dark for the past couple months. I’ve been dealing with a lot but life is looking up, My Loves! I’m hoping to get back into the groove of things and start pumping out stories again. Please comment/submit any requests you have for new stories or prequels.

Right now my writing list consists of:

- Birth Right #11

- Lesson #2

- Lesson #3

- Friends #4

- Shogi Partner #4

- Shogi Partner Prequel #2

- Crows Breed In The Spring #2

- Little Lady #3

- Duckling #3

- Parasite #3

- Choose #2

- Little Mouse #3

- Nagato Oneshot

- Shikaku Smut

- Inochi Smut

- Hate You Prequel #2

- Hidan

- Shikaku

- Choji

- Breeding Season Chapters Including:

• Naruto

• Shikamaru

• Shikaku

• Jiraya

• Orochimaru

• Kiba

• Shino

• Fugaku

• Sasuke

• Itachi

• Gaara

• Kakashi

• Kisame

- Hanahaki Disease Chapters Including:

• Itachi

• Sasuke

• Shikaku

• Tenten

• Shikamaru

*Disclaimer: I am slowly grooming through my comments and requests to see what has already been asked for so this list may update as I continue doing that.

I love you all and can’t wait to keep writing for you!

Love, Your Author

[13as07]

Shogi Partner #3

(Shikamaru Nara Smut)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to viziiro]

Requested by: @meugod (and others)

Word Count: 5,878

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Nick Name(s): Little/Fawn, Baby Girl, Babe

Board-line Pedophilia

Age-Gap (older man/younger woman)

Cheating

Power Imbalance (teacher/student)

Thoughts of harm to others

Smoking

Pornographic Photos

Non-Con

Hickeys/Bite Marks

Grinding

Themes of Grooming

Creampie

I think ima make another prequel and possibly one more part :)

———————————————————————

I’ve behaved. I’ve been behaving for the past month. No longing looks. No weird conversations. No touching. No inappropriate behaviors or thoughts of any kind while my Little Fawn is near. Not a single one…

Except when I’m alone in my office. When there’s nothing but silence, memories, and Namiashi’s perfume that seems to seep into every and anything possible. Except when it’s late at night when I’m surrounded by undone paperwork or in a loveless bed with my wife. Except when I go to pick up Shikadai from preschool on my student’s days off; her days off she spends helping at the nursery. Her days off she spends playing with my son, holding him in her arms, his bag slung over her shoulder as she fills me in on his day during pick-up.

Except when my terribleness bubbles and I’m left with my hand around my dick, rubbing myself to the photo of us I have stashed in a book, hidden away on my bookshelf over-flowing with information and journals from past Chiefs, packed full of advice on how to run our clan. Except when my mind runs wild with the reminder I’m going to be left alone, for three long days with my beautiful Fawn. Just her, me, and our minor mission to pass off documents to my lovely Brother-In-Law. A mission I’ve kept quiet from my wife so I could take my student with me instead.

Except when my eyes brand the photo of us into my mind. It’s not even just us. The photo is from two years ago, Shikadai’s first trip to the lake. He’s in my arms, leaning across me to grab at Namiashi-Chan. I’m looking down at her, talking about one thing or another, but she…

She’s looking up at me, my son’s ice cream in one hand, her’s in the other with a spoon full of the treat snug between her lips as she focuses on me. My Fawn’s eyes are wide, full focus on me as she listens. I don’t remember what I was saying, but I do remember what I was thinking. I was thinking about her swimsuit, the way the tassels of her top brushed against her skin, how much I hate the see-though coverup wrapped around her hips, somehow hiding less skin than the actual bikini bottoms do, and how easily the strings of either section could loosen and give away to the bits hidden away; not like there was a lot hidden away.

I’m a terrible man for using this picture to get off. My son is in it. My Fawn is still sixteen in it… but I don’t have any other photos of her. I should take more photos of her.

I really shouldn’t take more photos of her.

But I can’t help it. These moments, alone, with my thoughts drowning with her, seem like the only thing keeping things “professional” between us like she asked.

Still, my dick, trapped in my hand, twitches at the thought of having more photos of my Fawn. Photos of her dumb eyes that soften and get so round every time she sees me. Photos of her in that stupid oversized shirt her dad gave her that she still sleeps in. A perfect photo of her leaned over my desk, legs spread with a skirt hiked up and me dripping out of her.

My dick twitches again, my muscles tightening this time. My hand tightens too, wrapping the tissue I have more securely around my tip to catch all the mess that spills. The mess that wetness and warms the thin sheet.

Like clockwork, my stomach stirs as my guilt and disgust come crashing over me. Thoughts of my wife and my son, of my child of a student, of my duties, my clan, all stir in my head, forcing the drops of disgust to fall faster. I knew I shouldn’t have had that fish for lunch, it’s going to suck coming back up, all because of my pretty shogi partner.

———————————

My stomach folds itself as I raise my hand to the door, willing myself to knock on it again.

Where’s my Fawn? Why didn’t she answer the first time? I’m a little early, about five minutes, but she should be around, packing for our mission or simply waiting for me to pick her up at the agreed time. Did I get the time wrong? Maybe I told her one instead of noon. I don’t make simple mistakes like that.

Though, I didn’t think I was a terrible man either but proceeded to ease myself in my office, to a photo of us… and my son… less than ten minutes ago.

My knuckles click against the wood, trying to use the sound to drown both my thoughts and the feeling of my stomach trying to rid what’s left in it. Not like there’s a lot there. Most of it is in the trash can next to my desk.

“I’m coming! I’m coming! Have some patience,” A voice calls from the other side of the door. A deep voice. The deep voice of Raido.

My jaw clenches, deep breaths being sucked into my lungs as I try to will myself to not feel sick. I have nothing to worry about. He knows nothing, and he definitely doesn’t know what I did in my office, and he doesn’t know that it’s slowly turning into an everyday habit. I’m not sure I can say the same about my receptionist though.

“What is so urgent that - ”

Raido cuts himself off, his scowl quickly dropping when he sees me, replaced with the same smile I see on his daughter’s face, more so in my memories than in person recently. His smile quickly falls, replaced with the same worried face my Fawn tends to wear when she can tell I feel sick.

“Are you okay? You look sick, Shikamaru.”

“Ya, I just - ” rubbed one out to the thought of your daughter “ - ate some bad fish.”

His head nods as he pushes the door open, ushering for me to enter. “I take it you ate at Yakiniku Q? I don’t know what it is, but their new cook just can’t cook the fish right. My advice? Steer clear of it until they replace him.” Actually, I ate the lunch my wife packed me but I’m not willing to blow my cover to fix that small fact.

Sickness bubbles in my throat at the reminder of my wife. My wife that’s going to be pissed beyond belief when she finds out where I’m going for my mission. My wife that’s going to leave a sore spot on the back of my head when I get home from said mission. My wife that I’m leaving home so I can take my student on this trip, alone. My beautiful student who wouldn’t dream of putting her hands on me outside of sparring and other training matters. My student that doesn’t seem to be here.

My eyes sweep over the small house again, slowly scanning the living room and parts of the kitchen I can see. There’s no sign of her anywhere, besides the smoke-colored cat perched on the kitchen counter. She named it Ven, a play on the word venison, and another screaming reminder that I’m the one who gave her the nasty feline. Another nasty reminder of why she has the cat, or more so, what she did to get the cat. Chills drag up my spine at the reminder. I’m a really terrible man.

“Where’s your daughter?” I mutter, tearing my eyes away from the dreadful creature. I also make my breaths deeper to push the sickness down that’s trying to claw its way up my throat.

“My baby girl is upstairs with Tanjiro.”

My head snaps toward Raido, my inner disgust put on the back burner as anger bubbles into its place. What does he mean that my Fawn is upstairs with Tanjiro. That’s a boy’s name, so what in the world is my student doing, alone, upstairs, with a boy?

“What?” I can hear the venom in my voice almost as much as I can feel it on my tongue. Raido’s eyebrows squeeze together and the corners of his mouth fall into a deep frown, all signs that he’s concerned with my reaction. All signs that I don’t care about right now because who knows what this Tanjiro is doing with my baby Fawn.

“My daughter is upstairs spending time with Tanjiro before you two leave for your mission. I don’t know why you’re getting so upset about it. It’s no different than you spending time with your wife and son.”

Of course, it’s different. It’s unbearable how different it is. “Personally, Raido, I wouldn’t leave my child alone, in their room, with someone of the opposite sex,” my voice is still hissy and downright disrespectful, but I can’t dig up enough respect to care.

The older man’s confusion quickly melts into anger, a more controlled fire than his daughter’s burning in his eyes. “My child is an adult, Shikamaru. An adult having some privacy with her boyfriend before she risks her life for her village, once again. You might think you have everything figured out; a clan to run, a high rank in the village, a loving wife, and a bouncing baby boy, but don’t forget you’re not an elder yet. I have been a father for fifteen years longer than you. I know what’s best for my daughter’s personal life, you know what’s best for her Shinobi career. Stay in your space before I rip my daughter for your care.”

My fingertips tingle, the shadows of the house yanking on my chakra, begging me to use them. Begging me to strangle this Tanjiro, this boyfriend Namiashi-Chan seems to have found. Begging me to hurt my student’s father, to punish him for allowing this to happen, to feed him pain until he can’t even fathom the thought of pulling my Fawn from me. To do any and everything possible to take out the two blaring threats of my doe-eyed girl no longer being mine.

The click of my jaw opening fills the silent place, acting like a spark in a room of gasoline. My words bubble in my throat, pushing up to my mouth, but beating cut off before they spill over.

“Sensei!” The melody of my student’s voice feels like a pale of water being thrown on the flames of my anger, instantly snuffing it out. “I thought I heard you talking to Dad. Is everything alright?”

Just like that, my anger is back. I’ve learned to hate the word ‘dad’ over the years. It’s all I heard about the first two years of being Namiashi-Chan’s teacher. ‘My dad, my dad, my dad’.

‘My Dad said that’s the wrong way to do it.’

‘My Dad always cooks my dinner.’

‘My Dad would cut my steak for me.’

‘My Dad never makes me carry my bag.’

The only thing worse than that is her uncles. If Raido doesn’t do it for Namiashi-Chan, her uncles do. She’s the most spoiled girl I’ve ever met. Hinata is a literal princess, but somehow she’s less spoiled than my student.

Despite the annoyance it brings me, it also brings me some inspiration. I can only hope my bond with Shikadai is anywhere close to my Fawn’s bond with her father. I hope my son compares every man in his life to me because he sees me as this great man who can do no wrong. I hope I can truly be that great man one day, but it doesn’t seem like today will be that day. Especially with the way my dick twitches at the sight of the girl in front of me.

She’s smiling down at me, standing high enough on the stairs that I have to look up to see her. Her hair is braided in a sort of crown on her head, the true princess of the Namiashi clan even if her father isn’t the chief, before it melts into a ponytail. Perfectly made to hold as she’s cradled between my legs. She’s prepared for the harsh heat of the Sand Village, wearing shorts that hug her thighs just right. I can only imagine how well they make her butt look. The shirt hanging on her stops halfway down her stomach, the rest of her covered by the see-through mesh she’s adopted into her style through the years. A style of my clan. Like always, Raido’s dog tags are in place, dangling around her neck and resting just low enough to tease her breasts.

“Hey, Baby Girl,” Raido murmurs, his daughter being the end of his anger as much as she is for me. “Everything is fine. Shikamaru and I were just having a minor disagreement.”

“See?” Another voice butts in, too low to be a girl but too high to be one of her uncles. The voice is paired with the creaking of stairs, the sound pulling my Fawn’s attention away from me. “You were worried for no reason.” A young man, presumably Tanjiro, settles on the step behind my student, his hand automatically wrapping around the back of her neck as he tilts his head down to brush a kiss on her cheek. “You get too anxious before missions, babe. Stop psyching yourself out over nothing, anxiety isn’t a good trait for a Shinobi.”

“I guess,” my student murmurs, her eyes swimming in admiration, big and round like they are when she looks up at me. How they only should be when she looks at me.

The tingling returns to my skin, my hand flexing to try and rid the feeling before I do something I can’t take back. My mind has been made up. This boy won’t stay, can’t stay. If Raido won’t do anything to scare him off, I will. I’ll be damned if he ever touches my Fawn again, if he ever belittles her for being worried, if he ever criticizes her Shinobi skills. I’ll cut his hands off if I have to, slit his throat so he can’t speak. No one is allowed to lecture my student on her skills, besides me.

“Namiashi, we’re leaving.”

“Yes, Sensei.”

———————————

Anger still strangles every nerve in my body, leaving me in a sour mood all day. This isn’t how I wanted to spend the first part of the mission with my Fawn. I wanted to spend it laughing with her, admiring her lack of clothing, melting her smile into every inch of my mind, but of course, I didn’t get that.

Bad men don’t get good things. They get jealous of a literal teenager and her boyfriend. They get constant replies of memories they want to ignore, reminders of said boyfriend kissing said student’s cheek. They get thoughts of their Fawn actually kissing that boy, of her smiling at him, hugging him, fucking him. Constant thoughts about how I shouldn’t care, how I should be happy for her, how it’s wrong that all I can think about is ways to keep her to myself. Thoughts of how I’ve never been this angry about Temari interacting with any man and yet I’m fuming over such an innocent moment my student had with her romantic partner.

I let out another slow exhale, the smoke of my cigarette almost invisible in the dark midnight sky. The soft candlelight from the tent lights the grey smoke for barely a moment before it melts into the sky. My Fawn is asleep, curled up in a ball with nothing but that annoying shirt she’s been wearing to bed for years now. It fits her a bit better than when she was a child, but the hem still rests low, just low enough to cover her panties. It’s too hot, easily breaking a hundred degrees, so she hasn’t paired any pants with it.

It’s a beautiful sight, my not-so-small-anymore student curled up, the candlelight dancing across her skin, her panties teasing me as the dark fabric of them poke out between her thighs. My fingers curl into the dirt under me as I peek into the tent, peaking through the small opening I left when I came out for a smoke. The dirt is still made of soil, but hints of sand are mixed in, signaling the closeness to the Sand Village.

My Fawn lets out a sigh, soft and barely loud enough for me to hear. Still, it catches my attention. The girl’s movements are muddy, dancing with sleep as she rolls onto her back. Her arm stretches out, running across the cot for a moment before falling still. It’s another habit of hers, searching for someone next to her as she sleeps. It’s a leftover effect of the co-sleeping she did with her father when she was younger. It’s a small thing I’ve noticed Shikadai picking up on too.

When our son was born, I fought with Temari to let him co-sleep with us. I saw how close it made my kunoichi with her father and wanted that for my son and us. Overall, I won but my wife has continually reminded me that when he gets too old to sleep with us, I’ll be the one responsible for breaking that habit.

I scan over my Fawn, drinking in every detail of the new position. Her legs have fallen further open, showing the dark green color of her underwear. Here I thought they were black. No, they’re a forest green, one that reminds me of an off-attempt at my clan’s color. My mind swirls with the remainder of the camera in my bag. Just because I couldn’t bring myself to tell Temari about the trip doesn’t mean my son is going to suffer. I fully plan to bring him home souvenirs and photos of the other village of his heritage.

But, I could use the camera for other means as well. I have more than enough Polaroids. Besides, perhaps a better photo of her will help calm my nerves. Help me adapt to this new boyfriend she’s gone and collected. I still haven’t figured out how my student managed to get a partner without me noticing. Perhaps I’ve been giving her a little too much freedom and too much time unsupervised. Though I fully believed she was okay in her father’s care. Apparently, I was wrong. He’d willing to let her around anyone she pleases. How could Raido be so empty-minded about his daughter? If I had a daughter, she wouldn’t be allowed around any boy I don’t see as fit. Why should that be any different for my Fawn?

I let my hand fall, snuffing my cigarette out on the ground so I can return to our tent, to my student, to the constant twitch in my dick, and the never-ending thoughts in my head. My student looks even more beautiful closer up, hidden away in our tent, the darkness locked out once I have the opening zipped closed. My heartbeat pumps in my pants, egging me to move closer to her.

I make my breaths deeper, moving slowly as I crawl across the small room to grab my bag. One photo won’t hurt. If anything, it’ll help. Besides, I’ll feel better if I have a photo not including my son.

I repeat my thoughts, slowly rolling every syllable in my head as I take my camera out and slide back across the room. “It’s for the best. It’ll help,” I whisper to myself, holding the device up to situate the frame how I want it. My Fawn’s legs frame the lens, her covered pussy being the focus point. I barely think as I snap the picture, the soft buzzing of the picture printing filling the silent room.

If one photo will help, two would be so much better. Or possibly three, four, five? It won’t hurt any. I’m the only one going to see them and I’ll happily die before letting them get into the hands of another person.

My hands tremble as I set the camera on the bed. They continue to shake as I inch my student’s shirt up, letting the material slip up and over her head, before settling it on the floor. My breath ticks at the sight of her bare, hands jerking to grab my camera. I can’t help but be eager as I snap photos of her, littering the floor in photos. Photos of her breasts, her bare stomach, her peaceful face, her smooth neck decorated with the chain of her necklace, the hickey on her collar bone.

The device slips from my hands when my mind clears enough to make a bit of sense, the camera clucking when it makes contact with the floor. There is a hickey on my student. I hickey very much not from me. A hickey from that disgraceful boyfriend of hers. Anger and jealousy rush through me, a tidal wave of deadly mixture.

I can’t stop myself from jerking forward, my hands wrapping around her thighs. My fingers still shake with anger as I grip my pretty Little Fawn, her skin warm and melting into my palms. I let my touch slide further up her thighs, only stopping when I have a grip on her hips. Since Tanjiro feels the need to give her to me marked, I’ll very happily return the favor.

My head tucks downward, my lips sliding against the skin of her inner thighs. The lightness doesn’t stay for long, chased away by my lips and teeth alike. I suck on a chunk of my student’s skin, my teeth grazing her soft flesh to leave my mark. It feels like I black out as I mark my student, minutes running together as I slide between her thighs, across her hips, up her stomach, and over the hills of her boobs.

When my nose finally nuzzles her neck, my anger is simply a simmer, the same can’t be said about my Little Fawn’s skin. Dark blotches coat more of her than I wanted, hickeys and bite marks shining against her skin. My fingertips slide against each one, enjoying the color and the dips left by my teeth. She’s going to be fuming in the morning, she’s going to hate me, she’s never going to talk to me again after this mission.

My hand jumps off her skin, shoving its way past the waistband of my boxers. If Namaishi-Chan is going to be angry, I might as well have what I want anyway. What’s she going to do? She’s already going to hate me, so what’s stopping me from taking what I want? I tug my dick out of my boxers, letting it rest against the panties that are too coincidentally the color of my clan.

I’m a bad man; I know that now. I know I’m terrible. I’ve murdered people before and would willingly do it again. I thought about doing it just this afternoon. Thought about murdering an innocent boy for selfish reasons. I’ve been lusting after a child for years. I married a woman I don’t love for personal restraint. I had a child with a woman I didn’t love because it was expected of me. I adore my son, truly, but I couldn’t care less about his mother if I tried. I’ve been grooming my student since the very start. Doing things I shouldn’t do. Bribing her for moments of pleasure. Touching her in ways I shouldn’t. Thinking about her in improper ways. Keeping and taking less-than-appropriate photos of her. And now... Now I’m going to take the one thing that’s been driving me crazy for years.

I’ll fix it all tomorrow if I must. I’ll pay for her therapy. I’ll leave my wife. I’ll let Shikadai grow without a dad with the simple hope of him having a better man to model himself after. I’ll let Raido kill. I’ll let Namaishi-Chan kill me if she wishes. I’ll step down as the Nara chief. I’ll stop down as the Hokage’s advisor. Whatever I have to do, just for this one night, these few moments, for this single memory.

I bury my face into my Fawn’s neck, hiding from the candlelight, from the disgusting man I am. My hands shake, for different reasons this time, as I cling to her waist. My hips slide against hers, grinding my boner against the annoying barrier between her and me. The last annoying barrier, one that I can control, but I can’t get rid of it yet. I need to calm down, take my time, and savor this if I’m really willing to throw my whole life away. Her life. Temari’s life. Shikadai’s life. The clan’s reputation. The Hokage’s reputation. The Village's and possibly the Sand’s reputation... But I need this, just once. At least once.

My lips brush against her neck, her skin and the metal of her necklace dancing against my mouth. “I love you, Fawn. So much... So much so that it’s killing me,” I whisper, the words seeming so loud at the moment. My hand trembles as I slide it down, off her waist, and toward her hip. It feels like fire is licking my fingertips as they brush against the band of her panties, a fire that strengthens when I slide underneath the material. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You deserve better. You deserve a good man. A man like your father. A man like my father.”

Tears spill out of my eyes, wetting my Fawn’s neck, but it’s not the wetness that matters at the moment. I don’t want this to hurt her, I want her to feel as okay as possible in the morning. I want some part of her to be well, even if it’s just her physicality.

I continue whispering “Sorry”s and “I love you”s as my fingertips slide through her, letting the feeling of her pussy burn into my memory. When I dip a finger into my Fawn’s pussy, excitement mixes with the darkened feelings in my chest. This is what I’ve been so desperate for. This is what I’ve wanted for so long. She is all I want. A perfect life would be made of her, Shakidai, my dad, and me. That is my paradise.

Another finger slides in as my thumb stumbles onto her clit, rubbing slow circles into the nerve bundle. My Fawn is going to feel good; I’ll make sure of it. It’s the least I can do. Her breathing picks up from the stimulation, my fingers curling and thumb swirling to ease an orgasm out of her, all while my mind is screaming pleas of her staying asleep and my mouth is whispering apologies and love.

A murmured moan slips out of my student’s mouth, her hands back to exploring the bed; my prayers are ignored as she comes undone. “Sensei?” She whispers, her voice airy from her heavy breathing as her hands quickly find me. My skin burns with arousal at the feeling of her hands finding my waist, sliding up and down my bare back. My hand is drenched from her juices, a smaller, slightly less desired paradise.

“Go to sleep, Fawn,” I whisper in her ear, pulling out my fingers. My chakra buzzes, the shadows in the small space jumping to my command and snuffing out the candles. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“What are you doing?” She’s barely awake, evident in her voice and the way her hips lift when I slide her panties off. Her hands are quickly growing looser too, seconds away from letting me go as she slips back into sleep. I doubt she’ll remember any of this in the morning. I hope she doesn’t remember any of this in the morning. Well, I small part of me does.

“Just... coming back from a smoke,” I whisper, holding my breath as the lie hangs in the air. Still, I don’t stop my movements, sliding her underwear off her legs before situating myself between her knees.

“Oh, okay.” The answer is barely present as my Fawn settles back into her dream realm, her body twisting in an attempt to lay on her side.

I situate her back in place, laid on her back so I can admire all of her. So, I can watch her boobs bounce when I slide into her, so I can see the calmness of her face, so I can admire her skin taunted with proof of me covering every inch of her. A moan hisses out between my teeth when I bottom out, my balls resting against the still-warm cum from my Fawn’s orgasm.

“I love you. I really love you. I love you so much, Fawn,” I spill out, slowly dragging my dick out of her before pushing it back in. My hands are clammy and heavy as I grip her waist again, my eyes glued to her chest to watch how it moves while I fuck her. “I’m sorry, Little Fawn. So sorry, but I need this. I need it so bad that it’s killing me from the inside out.”

Tears blur my vision as I look down at her, the droplets falling to decorate her cheeks in my sadness, in my love. I wish she was awake. I wish I could hear more than her sleepy moans. I wish I could experience her true reaction instead of her fast asleep, defenseless as I violate her. I wish I would have never married Temari. I wish my student to not hate me in the morning so I can leave my wife and spend what’s left of my time with my perfect student. I wish I was a better man.

But I know I never will be, because as I thrust myself in once again, push myself as deep into my Fawn as I can, assuring not a drop of cum gets anywhere but in her, the only thing on my mind is the thought of snapping a photo of me slowly dripping out of her pussy.

———————————

The rough material of the cot under me scrapes against my palm, a bittersweet reminder that I’m not home, that Dad isn’t downstairs making breakfast, and that Ven isn’t curled up against me. However, it is a nice reminder that I’m with Sensei, that he’s either asleep next to me or outside having a smoke or even working on some pile of paperwork as he waits for me to wake up and choose what we have for breakfast. It’s a nice reminder that he spent all night asleep next to me instead of his wife.

The thought adds a tinge of sadness to my chest. Temari is a good person, an amazing shinobi, and an excellent mother. It makes me sad that I like her husband so much. It makes me sad that Shikamaru is so mean to her and that I’m part of the, if not the whole, reason why he does.

I push myself up until I’m seated, a change that makes my collarbone ache. Tanjiro is a nice boy who treats me well so I can’t figure out why I can’t just like him back. I’ve been debating whether to end our short fling or not. I don’t want to string him on but I also can’t keep hoping Sensei will leave his wife, let alone want me. That’s something that’s never going to happen, so why put my life on hold for a ‘what if’?

The longer I sit here, slowly waking up, the more aches that fill my body. We did travel a lot yesterday so some of the aches make sense, but the more I listen to my body, the more fear trickles into my stomach. My face feels like something has dried on it, as do my thighs. Weird places of my body ache; my boobs, my thighs, my neck... my vagina.

Slowly, my eyes trail across the tent, taking a breather as I prep myself to look down. The candles are lit, which I find strange. I could have sworn the tent was pitch black when I woke up last night. My mind replays the memory as I look around more of the tent. Sensei is gone, most likely outside to smoke, leaving me alone. Papers have been placed on top of the finished game of Shogi we played last night; easily eight or nine sheets. Photos litter the foot of the cot, a complete mess of polaroids.

I lean forward, pushing them into a pile before picking them up to look through. Fear sinks into my stomach faster as I look through them. They’re photos of me. Photos of my intermit parts, of all my parts, photos of bruises and bite marks that weren’t there yesterday, and finally, a photo of a man leaking out of me.

My body moves before my head can, my hand gripping the disregarded blanket to wrap it around my nudeness and my feet moving to stand. The photos are forgotten, falling into a mess on the ground again as I move away from the bed. My training kicks in before my feelings can, pulling me toward the papers on the table, hoping they’re a hint toward last night. Sensei couldn’t... he wouldn’t... he didn’t... but my memory of the middle of the night says otherwise.

I flip through the pages on the table with my eyes, not daring to touch them for fear that they’re worse than the photos I found. The first page ends up being the only thing I need with big black letters spelling out divorce agreement at the top.

“Fawn?” The nickname is paired with a soft hand wrapping around my throat, the common feeling of Sensei’s chest pushing against my back quickly following. “I thought you were going to be asleep for longer.” The words are a whisper, drowned out by the feeling of Shikamaru’s free hand tugging the blanket up my legs, slowly daring to expose me again. “I know that you’re scared, and hurt, and probably pretty angry at me, but please... Please let me talk to you... let me make you feel good before you decide what to do. Afterall, that’s what Senseis are for right? To make sure you feel good. Make sure you feel safe when you’re out on a mission.”

“Shikamaru,” I answer, my voice wavering despite my attempt to sound stronger, to sound unafraid of him. With age, I’ve slowly started to figure out what’s been happening between us. I know this is improper, I know no other Senseis treat or talk or touch their students like mine does. I know the classic signs of grooming, it was part of our empathy training, we learned it early on so we could help and protect the people and villages affected by our enemies. I know that Sensei has been grooming me, molesting me.

But has he really?

Most students are just that, students, but I’m more. I’m Shikamaru’s shogi partner, I’m friends with his wife, I know his child, so has he really groomed me?

Of course not, I’m just a bit more than his student. I’m just his Little Fawn.

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[13as07]

Hello! Can I request for the Shikamaru series of student and teacher to be continued?

The next part is currently in the works 👀 I just haven’t had the time to write 😂

[13as07]

Crows Breed In The Spring #1

(Shisui Uchahi Smut)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Keji. They’re here on Tumblr; Please check them out!]

Requested by: @chamchamshisui (More or less)

Word Count: 4,086

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Nick-Name(s): Little/Dove, Sir, Goddess

Exhibitionism

Titty Fondling

Fingering

Choking

Nudity

Slight Degrading

Prey/Predator Kink

Arranged Marriage

Plans for Part #2

———————————————————————

Shisui’s eyes trail on me as my eyes trail on the branches above us. The trees are slowly blooming, greens, pinks, and soft reds all melting into a nature-made painting. Spring is my favorite season, both for the nature and for the clan. The world is always painted so beautifully, whereas the clan is always filled with the promise of the future generation.

I mentioned it to one of the elders, once, how it seems that the clan is always buzzing with pregnancies and young couples wishing for children during the spring months. I got a lecture from both the elder and my parents for mentioning such a thing, in front of the Clan Council nonetheless. Despite the lectures I got, something the Chief said has always stuck with me.

Crows breed in the spring.

Looking back at the interaction, it was a strange thing for him to say, especially right before Shisui proposed. Given, the proposal came as a surprise. After all, we’ve been betrothed since birth so a formal proposal was never expected but he insisted on doing it anyway, insisted he wanted things to be as ‘normal’ as he could make them for me. Still, I can’t make myself believe that the Chief didn’t know it was happening, let alone when. Though, he’s always been a bit of an off person. Saying weird things at weird times.

Our wedding is coming up, in twelve months, down exactly to the day. I’m lucky when it comes to my arranged marriage, especially to who I’ve been arranged to spend my life with. Shisui is a good man, both at home and in society. He’s a high-ranked, and even higher achieved, shinobi, praised by both the Clan and the Village for his achievements and abilities. A distinguished Anbu, one of the youngest and most skilled of our generation. Of the past few generations.

Despite all that, he’s still a humble man, a kind man, a loving man. All of which has been proven once again today. With our wedding date being exactly a year away, Shisui requested today off, speaking to the Chief and Hokage personally to ensure he could spend the day with me. I’m just as giddy now as I was when he told me the news two weeks ago. My heart skips just thinking of the event and what my future husband said to me.

Don’t worry about a thing, Dove, I’ve taken care of all of it.

It’ll be a whole day of just me and you. Nothing and no one to take my attention away from you.

I assure you that the day will be spent with me showing you the future I promise to give you.

“Your cheeks are blushed again,” Shisui comments, leaning closer to whisper the sentence into my ear, acting as if it will disturb the Spring blooms. I tilt my head, escaping the tease of his lips against my ear that causes my cheeks to darken, this time in embarrassment instead of admiration. “Don’t run from me, Little Dove,” He giggles, tilting his head too, chasing after me as I try to flee. “Tell me what’s on that colorful mind of yours.”

“You,” I answer instantly, even more embarrassed by the confession and eagerness in my voice.

Shishui’s laugh tickles my skin, the soft sound wrapping around my heart and warming it from the outside in. “What a coincidence,” he murmurs, sliding a hand onto my hip. He softly pulls on me, positioning me against his body. Our hips are fleshed against each other, and the rough existence of his knife slid into its hilt, hidden under the band of his pants, separating a section of our connection. “I’m thinking about you too.”

“Oh?”

“Oh, indeed” He murmurs, his fingertips slow and steady as they slide off my hip. They trail upward, happily disregarding my shirt, slipping underneath it to caress the bare skin of my side. “We have some time before we’re expected to meet our families for dinner.”

“Oh,” I exhale, repeating my earlier reply. My heart feels quick in my chest, beating quicker the harder it gets to underplay Shisui’s touches. His fingers feel warm against my side, sending electric tingles across my skin. His lips have made residence against the side of my head, their warmth making the tips of my ears feel like flames. “What should we do with that time?”

“I can think of a... ah, thing, or two.” His words, paired with the continued climbing of his fingers, his touch carefully tracing one, two, three of my ribs, sends my senses ablaze. “Would you like to know what those things might be?” Shisui asks, fingers curling to wrap under the band of my bra. His knuckles slide back and forth, barely moving an inch in either direction as he waits for my answer.

My jaw falls open, lips twitching to form an answer, a word, even a sound would suffice. When nothing comes, I simply nod my head, yes, to answer my waiting husband.

His hip pushes against mine, gently leading me off the dusty trail that twirls through the acres of blooming trees on the outskirts of the Clan’s territory. “First, we should wander off the path. Wonder deep into the trees, let the flowers hide us from the world. Let the glow of the blooms highlight the beauty of my future wife.” My jaw clicks closed, my eyes widening as I hang onto every word spilling from Shisui.

The heat of his eyes pulls off of me, instantly skirting over the area in front of us, his shinobi ways bleeding through whenever and wherever possible. Still, his focus stays with me. With the eyes of any passer-byer or another couple enjoying the blooms being gone, Shushi has no shame. His hand jerks upward, a strong hand cupping my boob for a second before it starts toying with me. His hand squeezes my flesh, his fingers molding around my breast as his hip continues to gently push me forward.

“Once we’re safely tucked away, truly left alone, with nothing but the trees to see us, I’m going to lay my beautiful wife down on the fallen flower petals. I’m going to lay with her, sucking in the scent and taste of the beautiful pheromones that have been dancing off her skin the past few days.”

My mind feels like it has short-circuited. My thoughts are gummy, jumbled, and messy from arousal and the sweetness of Shisui’s affection. Embarrassment and worry swirl around my thoughts as well. I know that he has an idea of my menstrual circle; the chocolates at just the right times throughout the month, his willingness to give more than he receives when I’m my neediest, the extra attention when my emotions are in a reck, but it never crossed my mind that he had a strong hold on the bio-clock that is my body.

Can he truly tell what phase of my cycle I’m on? He can’t seriously smell my pheromones, can he? I know it’s rumored that us Uchiha’s take after crows a little too much. With age, I’ve even heard rumors that our population jumps every spring, just like crows, because we’ve picked up their breeding habits, but that’s all it is. Rumors. It’s normal that my sex drive jumps in tune with my bodily clock, but does Shisui’s truly jump every spring?

“Now what’s on that colorful mind?” My betrothed asks, gently pulling me from the string of unanswerable questions. His lips brush behind my ear, paired with a soft inhale before his kiss falls downward.

“Can you really smell my pheromones?” I whisper, letting my head tip when his kisses start trailing down my neck.

“Mhm,” he hums, taking another deep breath before sliding his tongue across the skin of my throat. “It’s faint, but there. The sensitivity of your skin and heightened reactions to my touch give you away a bit more though. Still, I can’t help but crave you, knowing how much you’re craving me.” Shusui stops moving, pulling his hand from my chest and his lips from my neck. I can’t help feeling like I slammed into a brick wall, my skin suddenly chilly without his touch, and irritation bubbling in my stomach. “Is there anything else tickling that mind of yours?”

“No. Well... yes, but it’s stupid,” I grumble, my unfounded anger growing the longer Shisui stays parted from me. My eyes trail after him, carefully watching as he scopes out the area. Can’t he throw caution to the wind just once? I’m supposed to have his full attention, but instead, he’s checking the branches for the boogie man.

“No question is a stupid question.”

I think over it for a moment, my unhappiness and the teasing given to me mixing in my stomach. “Do you think we have a breeding season?”

“Of course, Dove,” Shisui answers, finally making his way back to me. His hands land on my hips, massaging them for a second before nudging my shirt up to hook his fingertips under the band of my pants. “There are hundreds of scientific articles linking the sexual activities of our clan with our counterparts, our crows. It’s not even that far-fetched. Just look at the Inuzuka Clan. The Aburame. The Sarutobi. They all exhibit traits of their animalistic counterparts, repopulation timing included.”

I barely hear any of his rambling, my mind – and hormones – swirling with the feeling of Shisui’s fingers, the teasing of them sliding back and forth against my hips, the mundane but incredibly hot knowledge that he refused to wait until I was bare to feel the sensation of my skin against his rough hands.

Silence falls between us, the forest so quiet that I swear I can hear the electricity burning between our locked eyes. My stomach flips when Shisui slides one of his hands further along my waistband, his fingertips ghosting over the front of my panties. Tingles erupt through my body, making the space between my thighs their own base. It feels like minutes tick by as he slides his hand further into my pants, minutes that are truly only seconds.

Crimson melts into my future husband’s eyes. Crimson, that swarms the darkness of Shisui’s iris. Crimson, that is quickly dotted with three perfect tomoes. Crimson, that soon trades his tomoes for the pinwheeled design of his advanced sharingan. I drown in the color, letting it seep into every ounce of me. Letting the color dance alongside the feeling of Shisui’s fingers sliding back and forth over my pussy that’s angry with the fact that it’s still clothed and hidden from the attention it wants.

“You’re not breathing.”

“What?” I ask, the exhale I release seeming to also release the scream of my lungs I’ve been neglecting.

Shisui chuckles at my lugging, fingertip pressing against my clenching hole as he leans closer to me. His lips easily find mine, gracing me with the millionth kiss of the day. Still, the kiss is a bit rough, proof of his habit of biting them present in the flesh. I eagerly wrap my arms around his neck, trying to pull him closer to me. The simple act pulls more laughter from him, laughter that I suck into my lungs as I deep our kiss.

My tongue slides out, needlingly poking at my boyfriend’s lips. Shisui parts his lips for me, letting my tongue slide in and explore his mouth. I’m given free rein of our kisses, leading the dance our lips are partaking in. In exchange, he gets free rein of my body.

A hand snakes up my side, racing the path up my hip, under my shirt, and crawling under my bra. Shisui’s hand is rougher this time as he grips my boob, squeezing it until my breath goes jagged in an attempt to mellow the ache forming across my skin. My pain doesn’t go without pleasure though. The hand toying with my wetting panties slowly crawls under the material, his fingertips sliding through my folds to collect my wetness.

I back off for a second, breaking for our kisses to suck in a needed breath. A labored breath, trying to balance the pleasure teasing my pussy, the pain webbing from Shisui’s grasp on my chest, and the ting of fear that’s always flickering when his sharingan is activated.

“Dove?”

“Ye-”

My answer is cut off by a sharp inhale, slammed from my lungs when Shisui thrusts two of his fingers into me. My hands slip from his neck, gripping his shoulders with my nails digging into the dark material of his shirt.

“You’re going to be good for your husband and strip, yeah? You’re going to strip and lay your pretty self out on the blossom petals for me, yes?” His fingers move just as slowly and even as his voice. Steady, strong, dependable, but not fast enough.

“Yes, Sir,” I murmur, tightening my hold on him, hoping he’ll move his fingers even a bit faster.

“There’s a good Little Dove,” He coos, giving me the opposite of what I want. Shisui pulls his touch off of me, squeezing my breast once more before breaking contact. His eyes swirl in amusement as he drinks in my disappointment, a laugh brewing in his chest, I’m sure. “Strip,” he reminds me of my command, taking a step back as he slips his fingers into his mouth.

It feels like my stomach gushes at the sound of Shisui sucking my juices off himself. Instantly, my hands jerk, taking a grip of my shirt to rip it up and over my head. My movements get messier, wanting to rid myself of all my clothing if it means he’ll touch me again, touch me sooner. My clothes are dropped to the floor, forgotten as soon as I free them from my body.

“Good job,” he coos again, eyes still rubbing my skin raw. “Lay down. Look at the flowers.”

My knees buckle, bending to let gravity push me to the forest floor. It feels like my body moves on its own, positioning myself to lie on the ground like ordered. The soft petals fallen from the trees above rub against my skin, their scent feeling my nose, and their soft colors exploding in my eyes. The petals aren’t the only thing that catches my eye. Buried in the branches are two patches of black, sticking out against the colorful ceiling of the trees.

Crows breed in the spring.

It’s probably a couple of crows, hanging around and planning the same thing I have in mind.

My sense of hearing isn’t left bored either, picking up on every sound, every sound except the sound of Shisui. That’s not surprising though. A loud ninja isn’t a good ninja.

“Dove?”

“Shisui?”

He falls silent again, my senses on high alert, edged from the forest, edged from being so exposed, edged from not knowing where my lover is.

Minutes tick by, filled with thoughts, with ‘what if’s, filled with worry. Just as my body relaxes, my mind grows silent and focuses on the branches swaying, on the petals slowly falling, my thigh is gripped.

“Shisui!” I shriek, jerking into a seat position.

“Dove,” He chuckles, the familiar sight of his sharingan filling my sight and smoothing out the fear threaded through my chest. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” I jerk my head away, staring deeper into the forest as I huff, my anger with him bubbling into my actions. “Oh, don’t be mad at me,” Shuishi murmurs, dotting my cheek in kisses. “I couldn’t help but admire how gorgeous you looked. Bare and laid out just for me, framed by the cherry blossoms. After all, I see everything so much better than most. I didn’t mean to scare you, my Little Dove.”

Slowly, I let my anger leak out of my veins, leaning into his soft kisses and letting my muscles loosen under his touch. “You’re mean,” I grumble, slowly turning to face him again.

A loose smile hangs on his lips, enjoyment, and amusement mixing with the crimson of his eyes. “I’m mean?”

“Yes.”

“I took time off to celebrate our future marriage. I planned our outing, our walk through the woods, our dinner with our families, and you think I’m mean?”

“I know you’re mean,” I shoot back, shaking my head back and forth in a matter-of-fact fashion.

The laughter that seeps from Shisui ends the trumpet feeling from my comeback. The sound is darker than usual, laying heavy in the air instead of flowing freely with the soft wind that’s been present throughout the day. “Fine, I’ll be mean then,” he purrs, giving enough time for my heart to skip before his hand is wrapped around my throat, using his grip to push me flat to the ground again.

I shriek when my back hits the ground, a sharp smile ripping across my face from the fear and excitement braiding together. After all, what’s the point of having a scary anbu as a boyfriend – and future husband – without a little bit of fucked up playtime?

“Naughty, naughty girl,” Shisui lectures, clicking his tongue at my excitement. His body crushes me into the ground, keeping me pinned against the petals decorating the forest. His thumb rubs against the side of my throat, his other fingers digging into my flesh to control my oxygen intake. “What would our Clan think? Calling one of their pride and joys mean? What would your parents think of you right now? Stripped naked, laid out on the ground, so eager to do everything you’re told.”

“I’m just being a good wife,” I shoot back, my voice pitched from the grip around my throat. “Just like everyone keeps telling me to do.”

The dark laugh is back, echoing among the trees. “Oh, is that so? I didn’t know being a good wife included getting fingered in the woods. Since when did it include stripping bare among the branches? Which housewife taught you that being choked by your husband is a part of sex? Which gossiper told you a good wife gets wet when their husband makes fear flutter in their chest?”

“Your mom, mostly.”

Shisui’s eyes flicker, excitement appearing before quickly being replaced by his fake hardness. “Little Dove,” he exhales, leaning down so he can peck my lips between each of his words. “A good wife watches her temper and most defiantly does not speak of their mother-in-law in such a way.” He pulls away, leaving a very unwanted gap between our lips. “I think you just need some of my attention. Is that what you need, Dove? Do you need some of my attention to get your attitude straight? Should we play?”

A weight drops in my stomach, a new wave of fear swirling in my stomach. My butt already stings, the memories of our last game whirling through my head. The last time Shisui and I played, really played instead of the quick sessions between his missions, I was left with a two-day long hand print and a limp the next morning. Simon Says is not my strong suit.

“Let’s play...” My heart skips as I wait for Shisui’s choice, hoping, praying, that he doesn’t pick Simon Says. “Tag.” I take it back; I’ll very willingly play Simon Says. “I’m it first.”

He releases me, crawling off of me and climbing to his feet. My eyes trail after him, watching Shisui wipe his clothing clean before he turns and walks away from me. My heart skips and my stomach flips as he leans his arm against the tree across from my spot, his head tucked into his elbow.

“One hundred.”

My mind runs a million a minute, every other thought about how unfair this game is. Shisui is a shinobi, a highly trained shinobi, an active duty anbu. The only thing I’m trained in is the things he likes and what makes a good housewife.

“Ninety-nine.”

I’m so going to lose. What’s he going to do when he tags me? What’s he not going to do when he tags me? My thighs rub together as my eyes skirt down his back, cursing his shirt for hiding away his shoulders. I’m so screwed.

“Ninety-eight.”

The numbers finally click in my head. Shisui is giving me a head start, one hundred seconds to run for my life before he chases after me. Three of which I’ve wasted. Once the thought is settled in my mind, I’m up on my feet, quickly glancing around before deciding on a direction. I can’t go forward, that means I’d have to pass him. I can’t go backward, I’ll stumble onto the trail. I choose to go right, jerking my body into motion once the decision is made.

Oxygen is pulled into my lungs as I race away from my boyfriend, trying to get as much distance between us as possible. It doesn’t take long for my body to scream. My lungs are angry from ove working. My legs are angry from the speed I’m forcing them into. My skin is upset at the sharp branches scrapping against it.

My thoughts run right alongside my feet. Every sound makes my heart beat faster, worried Shisui already found me. Theories of what he’s going to do make my nerves bounce with even more excitement and even more fear. Is he going to fuck me? Pressed against a tree or in the grass? Is he going to tease me? Leave me on edge before making me go to dinner, using my irritation and need as a reward for his win? I wonder if he’ll -

“Litte Dove?” Shisui’s chilled voice laces between the trees, making it impossible to tell where it’s coming from. My heart stops at the call for me, my feet freezing, following suit. I stay, stuck in place like a deer that heard the steps of a hunter. Fear trickles from my heart, straight to my arousal like a melting icicle, set on overflowing the pot under it as the spring air warms it. “I’ve decided on my award for winning, are you ready to hear it?”

My heart thumps heavily in my chest, the reminder I need to get my feet moving again. My body jerks, my feet sliding for a moment before shifting back into a run. I don’t know what direction I’m going in. I don’t know which direction I came from. Most importantly, I don’t know where Shisui is. All I do know is that the break from whipping leaves and hard branches has made my skin angrier.

My mind is so torn, focused on not tripping and trying to look for signs of my hunter that I don’t catch the forest line until it smacks me in the face. The brightness, brought by the sun and the gap in the trees, colors the path, burning my eyes that have adjusted to the darkness of the forest. Fear of being caught by someone from the village, or even worse, someone I know, makes me freeze, my steps stalling once again.

Oxygen pumps into my lungs as I soak in the silence, keeping myself hidden in the shadows of the forest edge. Should I turn around or should I run along the forest edge -

“You’re it, Dove.” Shisui strikes before I can shriek, a hand wrapped around my mouth as the other one wraps around my eyes, cutting off my view of the sun just five steps away. “You lasted a lot longer than I thought you would,” he softly praises, his knee pushing against the back of mine until it buckles, gravity pushing me to the ground once again. His breath is heavy in my ear as he feathers my fall to the floor, tickling my pride a bit. I made an anbu winded from our little game of tag.

Slowly, the hand around my eyes slips upward, Shisui’s gentle fingertips brushing through my hair and picking out the leaves it picked up during the chase. My head is gently pulled backward as he plays with my hair, my eyes scanning the branches above us. “Your pretty smell, and all your questions, the sight of you looking like a Goddess on the forest floor, and our little game has me so worked up, Dove. So, I’ve decided we’re going to partake in this year’s breeding season.”

Crows breed during the spring,

And I am a crow.

———————————————————————

[13as07]

Hello Loves,

Sorry I’ve been gone for so long. I’ve been dealing with some personal stuff. The app I usually use for my writing deleted all my work, including my requests and idea list, so if there any story lines you want me to continue (or any new plots you’d like to see) please comment, DM me or go to my request form.

I love you all!!!

[13as07]

Shogi Partner Prequel #1

(Shikamaru Nara)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Maddiepodless]

Requested by: Myself

Word Count: 3,790

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Nick Name: Fawn, Sensei

Age Gap (Younger Woman/Older Man)

Smoking

Borderline Pedophilia

Power Imbalance (Teacher/Student)

Sexual Tension

———————————————————————

My sister is not an option. It's your move. Hurry up and make it or else I will be encouraging her to cut off your 'puppy love'.

My eyes scorch over the letter again, irritation and stress weighing on my shoulders the longer I stare at Kankuro's handwriting. I don't like being forced into a corner and that is exactly what he's doing. Trying to threaten a marriage proposal out of me. That's Temari's and my business, not his. Someone needs to teach him to pull his nose out of our business. I'll propose when I feel like it, and I don't. I don't feel like proposing yet...

"Sensei!" My student yells, making me snap my head up. My eyes change course, now scorching the thin tree line separating our campsite from the river. "Sensei!" She yells again, her voice louder this time.

I'm on my feet in a heartbeat, slowly heading toward the tree line. My senses are on high alert, searching for any possible threat. I settle in the shadows caused by one of the thick canopies both hiding us from the sun and enemies alike, giving myself more time to figure out the cause of her calls.

The girl is settled on the bank, her hair still wet from the bath she left to take. A t-shirt hangs off of her, the material easily two or three sizes too big. It hangs low, ending just before her knees. It's Raido's probably, just like the necklace she's been wearing for a straight week.

He retired on Friday, at least from the Hokage Protection branch of the anbus. Raido kept insisting that 'his heart can't take the anbus and his Baby Girl being active duty at the same time'. It's a bull-face lie; everyone knows it is, but watching his daughter break down last month wasn't enjoyable for me. I'm sure it hurt him even more.

So, in the aftermath of the most recent assassination attempt on Kakashi-Sensei's life, Raido stepped down to be a normal Shinobi. With that, his Anbu tags were honorably discharged as well and are currently resting around his daughter's neck, catching the sun's rays as she... I'm not too sure what she's doing.

"Sensei!"

"Stop yelling!" I bark back, reluctantly leaving the shade to head toward the girl, the dying sun shining straight into my eyes. The last year has been a constant reminder of my dislike of children. But, at least she's a good strategist. Having a decent shogi partner is worth the stress having a student brings... most of the time. I don't think this is going to be one of those times.

     "Sorry, Sensei," she mutters, eyes still locked on the water. Her hands are submerged in the river, moving around enough to make ripples in the calmness. At least they are until I'm standing next to her. "Look!" She cheers, standing up and freeing her hands of the stream.

     I slowly blink as I look between her and her hands. The unstable - or possibly straight insane - girl is holding two fish, one in each hand as the small beasts gasp. "How... how'd..." the question sticks in my throat, the confusion being unable to clear up in my mind.

     My student is a lot of things but she is most definitely not a water Shinobi. A swordsman like her father, yes. A skilled sealing shinobi like Iwashi, yes. An amazing marksman like Genma, yes. She needs practice but shows promise to be a Space-Time Shinobi too, yes. A water Shinobi, no.

     "Uncle Iwashi showed me how to use a form of teleportation jutsu to catch fish!" She explains, oozing joy as she shows off the fish she caught. Maybe her Space-Time jutsu isn't as rusty as I thought it was. I'm going to have to do some serious research on that when we get back to the village.

"That's..."

"Great, right?!" She asks, jerking her body back and forth in a little dance, fish in tow. "You tend to catch dinner for us on nights we're stuck in the forest late. Uncle Iwashi said this would work until I get better at using my bow. Then I can hunt game, just like you!"

"Your bow?"

My student looks up at me, her focus pulled away from the scaly animals in her grasp. Her eyes are big and round as she looks at me, the search for approval drowning her doe-like eyes. "Uncle Genma got me a bow for my birthday this year. He said it would help with my marking. I didn't want to tell you until I got better at using it."

The longer she stares at me, the faster my heart beats. A part of me wants to hide those doe eyes, another part of me wants to spend eternity with her looking up at me with this new little fawn expression of hers. The rational part of me wants to lecture her about keeping such information from me. How am I supposed to be a good Sensei if she's hiding the things she's learning? The things she wants to learn?

     "Are you mad?" My student whispers, her body slouching as her eyes widen even more. The wetness of them only adds to the adorable fawn face.

"I'm not mad," I rush out, lunging forward to cup her face. When my head catches up with my movements, I drop my hands, gripping her shoulders instead of her face. "I just... you need to tell me what other things you're learning so... so I can... help." My face hurts, like someone drenched it in oil and lit it on fire. Is this what Hidan felt when I burnt him alive? Doubtful. I hope it was a lot hotter than this.

     "Will do, Sensei!" She cheers, brushing me off before strolling back toward our campsite.

     I stay frozen in my spot for a moment, staring at the empty void my student left in front of me. Her bathing stuff and day clothes are still thrown across the bank of the river; a bad habit of hers. She reminds me so much of myself and yet so much of Naruto.

     A daydreamer just like me yet has the big goal of 'being as good of a kunoichi as Ino-Senpai' similar to Naruto's big goals. An absolute mess of a person just like Naruto, yet hyper-aware of everything all the time just like me. An overly lazy Shinobi who doesn't like doing much just like me, yet is always ready to defend the family she has just like Naruto.

I shake my head to clear the thought out. Partly to clear the image of her perfect fawn face and doe-eyes too. I don't know how I never noticed it before. Maybe because I've never snapped at her. I don't know. What I do know is I need to clean up her mess... and figure out how I'm going to cook the fish for us.

I also know my heart shouldn't be beating as fast as it is. Maybe I managed to spook myself when she called for me. I'm sure that's what it is.

———————————

The fawn face did not go away. I repeat, did not go away. My student's expression looks even more gentle in the soft candlelight of our tent; her eyes are even glossier as she stares at the shogi board. I think it's the need for sleep. It's the first time she's accompanied me on an overnight mission, so I went in knowing things would be a bit different. Seeing her tired was going to be one of those things. That has to be what it is, exhaustion... or maybe comfort?

I hope it's comfort... maybe?

I don't know what I hope.

I hope that just this once I'm wrong. That my conclusion of what's going on is wrong. That my exhaustion has messed with my observation and theoretical skills. Because what I'm theoretically feeling is not theoretically improper. It's completely improper. Completely unethical. Completely repulsing. Completely perverted.

"Sensei?"

A long and low exhale is pushed out between my teeth at the sound of my student's soft voice. My eyes glare at the board even harder as I fight with myself not to look up at her. I'm tired. My mind and body are misreading the situation. I need to keep reminding myself of that.

"Sensei?" She calls again, this time pairing her voice with movement. The blanket on her lap ruffles as she leans forward, her slim fingers wrapping around my wrist to tug on it. I shake my head a bit, but my arm doesn't give out, keeping my face propped on my closed fist. "Are you paying attention?"

     My focus jerks away from the playing pieces, zoning in on her face. It's unnatural how gentle her expression looks. What a pretty little Fawn she is. Damp hair, rosy cheeks from our day in the sun, wide doe-eyes with blown-out pupils to make up for the darkness.

My fingers tingle, my chakra buzzing with the want to wrap her up. To make use of all the shadows in the small space. To snuff out the candle so it's just us and the darkness. To slide my carefully crafted jutsu across those soft cheeks of hers and just... Sit. Watch. Enjoy the gentleness of her eyes. No one looks at me like she does.

"Sensei?" She calls again, rougher this time as her fingertips stab into my cheek. Concern has welled in those beautiful eyes, shrinking them just a tad. They flicker back and forth over my face, zoning in and out like they tend to do when she's concentrating. "Are you okay? Your cheeks are all warm."

"It's just a sunburn," I mutter, letting my eyes flutter closed and my head leans into her touch. The pretty fawn smells like green apples and lilacs with just a hint of deer fur. What a lovely sign of my presence...

     "Go to bed!" I yelp, forcing my eyes open and snapping my head back.

     My student jerks away from me, confusion replacing the concern on her face. "I'm... I'm sorry. Did I do something wrong?"

The tone of her voice feels like an ice pick slamming into my heart. The sudden wetness in those breathtaking eyes doesn't help the ache. "No," I whisper, carefully grabbing her wrist still hovering in the air from cupping my face. My movements are slow and uncertain as I pull her hand closer to me, sliding my fingers up to rest against her palm, my thumb brushing against her knuckles. "Nothing I do is ever your fault. It's important that you know that. Tell me you know that, Namiashi-Chan."

"You're scaring me, Sensei."

My eyes squeeze closed as I yank her hand upward, pressing it against my forehead. I'm just tired and misreading the situation. Tired and misreading. Misreading and tired. "I'm sorry. I'm just tired... but I need you to know nothing I do is your fault. I need you to say it."

"Sensei - "

"Say it!" I yell, tipping my head up to look at her. Regret instantly washes through me, another ice pick poking at my heart. She looks so scared, utterly terrified of me right now. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled. You didn't do anything wrong. Sensei is just..." Confused? Disgusted with himself? An adult getting heart flutters over his teenage student? "Tired. Please go to bed, Namiashi."

"Okay," she murmurs, slowly pulling her hand out of my grasp. My chest ices over with the lack of her touch, leaving me with the damn fish flopping in my stomach. Before my student is even on her feet, I'm up and out of the tent, leaving her alone in the shelter.

I need a smoke... and my dad, but only one of those things is possible.

     What the hell do I do in this situation, Dad?

     If you were here you'd force me to be your shogi partner for the night and discuss the situation with me, help me figure out how to handle it all. Maybe I'm just grieving. I'm putting off my proposal and using my student as a distraction because I miss you... maybe. I don't know, Dad. What do I do?

———————————

Half my pack, enough rain that I can't see the end of my nose, and a quarter of my lung coughed out later, I'm sliding back into the tent, praying to whatever God I can find in my time left that Namiashi is asleep. Relief and disappointment mix in my chest when my eyes fall on her sleeping form.

     The little Fawn is curled up in a ball, settled in the center of the cot taking up half the space in the tent. Shinobi tents are light, but not exactly roomie. I shouldn't sleep on the cot. I should sleep on the floor or outside the tent; even better... but it's raining with a chilled breeze brought along with it. I can't sleep outside and I don't have the heart to unroll a blanket from around her.

     I could just not sleep... but that would be even worse. We have a full day of travel tomorrow if I plan to stay on schedule and get back to the village before nightfall. Though... one more night won't hurt...

     One more night would hurt a lot, actually.

Slowly, I let my eyes roll back over the little Fawn. She looks so small like this. Balled up in a mess of blankets, curled into herself, swimming in her father's t-shirt. She's just a baby, barely a year on the job. A quarter younger than me but a good chunk less experienced.

It sickens me, to think about how innocent she is. Thinking about how bad I want to be there for everything. For every mission. For every drop of reality that settles in her being. For every first experience. For every last experience.

     My jaw rotates as I try to shake the thought away. Tired. Misreading. Grieving. That's all it is. Misplaced emotions on a child that looks up to and depends on me. I'm a good man. A good man would stop dwelling on this miscommunication between his heart and his head. I'm a good man.

     ... but not tonight. Just tonight.

     I move slowly around the tent, stripping out of my soaked clothes before changing into a dry pair of pajama shorts. The last thing I need is the little Fawn catching a cold because I came to bed in wet clothes.

Somehow, I move even slower as I crawl into the cot behind her. The little Fawn stirs with the dip of the bed, curling herself tighter as she softly mumbles. Whatever she tries to say doesn't come out solid, only sounding like a string of letters not capable of connecting properly.

     I let myself sink into the bedding, my hands curiously but carefully digging through the blankets the Fawn has wrapped herself in. Shivers race through her body when I find what I'm looking for; her waist. My arms snake themselves around her, securing their spot before tugging my student closer to me.

She fits so perfectly against me, nuzzled up against my torso, a ball of loose hair, blankets, and warm skin. I can't help but squirm closer to her, digging myself further under the blanket fort and pulling her against me until the t-shirt drowning her is the only thing separating my bare chest from her back.

My nose finds a temporary home against her neck, forcing its way through the wild child hair sleep has given my little Fawn. I take slow and deep inhales of her scent, letting the fruity smell drown my senses. The more I drown, the more my hands itch to feel her skin.

It's just for the night. Just tonight. Tomorrow I'll have my head on straight and I'll keep it that way, but not tonight.

A drop of disgust mixes with my bliss as my fingers cling to my student's shirt, inching it upward until her stomach is left bare and I can feel the skin of her back pressed into my chest. The skin of my fingertips buzz as they slide across her, soaking in how warm and smooth she feels against my touch. "My pretty little Fawn," I whisper into her neck, brushing my lips across the delicate skin. "I'm going to propose to Temari next time I see her. That'll keep you safe."

Our tent falls quiet, the only sound coming from our soft breathing and the gentle flick of the candles still lit. Unlike the sounds of the makeshift room, my kisses don't stay gentle. It doesn't take long until I give into another sick want, sucking in a chunk of my little Fawn's neck. My taste buds explode with the taste of her skin, happily lapping it up as I suck more of my presence into her being.

Tomorrow I'll go back to being her Sensei, her shogi partner, a chief of the village she full-heartedly respects. Tonight though, she's nothing more than my Little Fawn and I'm nothing more than a sick man whose heart can't help but ache with my want for her.

———————————

My body feels heavier than usual as sleep slowly escapes my grasp, sliding away from me and being replaced by the sun leaking into my space. Slowly my eyes blink open, the process slowed by nature's natural light.

The more I wake up, the more things my senses become aware of. The sizzling sensation on the side of my neck. The feeling of a hand wrapped around my throat, clinging to it like the person gripping me is terrified I'll vanish if they let go. Warmth wrapped around me; warmth not caused by the blankets I'm under but by the body heat of another person. An arm snug around me, resting across a strip of my bare skin just below my chest. Someone's soft breath tickles my ear as their nose finds comfort buried in my hair.

Fear and confusion lace my veins; feelings I'm trying to wave off to keep my head clear and my thoughts straight. I know it's not Dad, first and foremost because I know he'd never hold me like this, even though we do still co-sleep. He says it's a habit we need to kick now that I'm getting older. Secondly, I'm a good day's worth away from the village.

I take a few deep breaths, trying to keep my senses despite the million scenarios running through my head. If it's not Dad holding me, who is?

From what I can see, everything is exactly how it was last night. The shogi board is still set, waiting for Sensei's next move. The candles are lower from burning all night but still dancing with active flames. None of the tent material seems to be disturbed, at least what of it I can feel.

After another extended trail of relaxing breaths, I decide to face the situation. After all, I can only get so far looking at the same section of the tent over and over again.

I take one more deep breath before willing myself to shift in the person's arms, positioning myself so my back is pressed into the cot instead of my side. The person grumbles, their nose sliding through my hair before it gets loose from my locks. Still, their nose keeps moving, dancing across the small section of my throat not buried under their fingers.

"Hush," they murmur, their lips brushing against my skin, effectively replacing their nose for a beat. The lazy kiss continues, repeatedly painted against the same spot on my neck as their fingers tighten their grip. The harder their touch gets, the less gentle their kisses become until it's not a kiss at all.

My throat is sucked on, a mix of their wet and warm tongue sliding against my skin and a tenser feeling of the sizzling I felt when I first woke up dance over my senses. The feeling seems to drip down my neck, settling between my legs in a weird tingling pressure.

My eyes slowly blink, like it'll help me process the situation. Deep raven hair. Silver stud earrings. Flawlessly pale skin stretched across a soft but bored expression. Half-lidded eyes that are slit with the beauty of a feline. Heat bubbles across my skin as my lungs start to struggle with the knowledge of how to breathe. It's not an intruder or enemy wrapped around me, it's my Sensei.

It's my Sensei clinging to my neck like a lifeline. My Sensei's arm toying with the melt of my chest to my belly. My Sensei kissing up my throat. My Sensei breathing heavier the longer he sucks on my skin.

"Sensei?" I whisper, squirming in his hold with the hopes of loosening the unfamiliar feeling between my knees.

His hand slides down my belly, slow, steady, and only adding to the new sensation. "Shut up, Namiashi. Go back to sleep." Sensei's voice is deep and jagged, still drenched in sleep. At this rate, it seems that anything he does is going to act like gasoline to the flames of my issue.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I... feel off."

Sensei slowly picks his head up, his eyes dripping across my body as he looks down at me. Every inch his attention covers feels like another stream of electricity buzzing across my senses. "You're just horny, Namiashi-Chan. The feeling will go away," he tells me, his hand sliding lower to cup the underside of my knee.

He moves his position, settling himself between my legs, my knee hooked over his shoulder as his body weight presses into me. "I'm sorry." The apology is winded, Sensei's movements stroking the sensa - my horniness.

"Don't apologize. I already told you nothing I do is your fault."

The feeling of his lips teasing the edge of my shorts makes my spine carve, even more fuel to the electricity sizzling in my stomach. "Sensei - "

"Namiashi," he cuts me off, his eyes slit more than usual because of the expression on his face. I can't quite put my finger on the emotion he's feeling at the moment. Fear? Sadness? Disgust? Maybe all three, I don't know. I'm too confused to figure it out. "You're being a drag of a student. A good student listens to their Sensei. You're not listening."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he whispers with his focus back to dotting the hem of my shorts with soft kisses. "Just go back to sleep for Sensei, okay? I'm just going to kiss up on you."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

[13as07]

Shogi Partner #2

(Shikamaru Nara Smut)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Pixiv Id]

Requested by: @thenightperson

Word Count: 4,153

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Name Calling: Fawn, Sensei

Age Gap (Younger Woman/Older Man)

Power Imbalance (Teacher/Student)

Titty Fondling

Fingering

Borderline Pedophilia

Cheating

I think ima do a prequel

———————————————————————

     "The itsy bitsy spider crawled up the water spout." It feels like all my bodily functions have frozen, besides my heart at least, which is pounding against my chest like it's trying to escape. "Down came the rain and washed the spider out." My Fawn is sat crisscrossed on the carpet, her fingers wiggling and falling downward to mimic rain. "Out came the sun and dried up all the rain." Inojin, Ino's son, is sitting in her lap, clinging to her wrists as he watches her play out the lullaby. "So, the itsy bitsy spider crawled up the spout again."

     Inojin says something, his words soft enough that I can't catch what he's asking. For once, I'm upset he didn't inherit his mother's loud mouth. Whatever he said made my Fawn laugh, the sound giving my pounding heart a power up to slam itself harder.

     My Fawn stands up, child in arm as she settles on her feet. Inojin is moved in her arms, positioned more comfortably as he lunges forward, fisting her hair. "You are my sunshine," she starts humming, swaying them in slow circles. "My only sunshine. You make me happy when the skies are grey." My fingers twitch as I watch her dance with my nephew. Twitch to snatch him out of her arms and place Shikadai there instead. To watch her dance with and sing to my son, not Ino's. "You'll never know dear, how much I love you. So, please - "

     She stops, a gentle giggle replacing her sing-song tone. "Good job, Little One," she coos, peppering kisses across Inojin's cheeks. The side door opening catches my Fawn's attention, her arms tightening around my nephew as she turns to peek at who's entering.

     My eyes snap to the side as well, catching a glimpse of Ino, before they're back on my Fawn. She's oozing joyfulness and sunshine to the point I'm almost convinced she is the sun. They exchange 'thank you's and 'you're welcome's before Inojin is taken from her arms and whisked away by his mother, off to explore a different section of the preschool.

The pounding of my heart stops; the organ is barely there when my Fawn turns back around. Her eyes land on me, the sunshine radiating off of her being snuffed out the instant she sees me.

"Are you alright?" Temari asks, pulling my attention away from my student for a moment. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm fine," I mutter, snapping my eyes back to my student. She's back to being sunshine and rainbows as if she never saw me. Choji has been wrapped into my Fawn's bubble, his wife, Karui, looking stressed as she rattles off about their daughter.

I'm not surprised to see her, after all, it is a Namiashi-owned Preschool, run by her clan's Chieftess, centered around the future generations of Shinobis. Only the children of the highest-ranking Shinobis gain enrollment. Hence why so many of my comrades are here instead of enrolling their children in the preschools of their clans. Hence why Temari was so set on Shikadai going here since I 'insist we keep our roots in the Leaf Village'.

     "I'm going to greet Choji," I tell my wife, snatching Shikadai from the ground before beelining toward my Fawn.

Temari looks after me, a mix of disgust and surprise on her face. My student doesn't think of my best friend in disgust. My student respects my friends, and adores their children, obviously. She rambles on about Ino's accomplishments as a kunoichi and the respect she has for Choji's clan all the time. My wife can't even control her facial expressions when I mention my friends.

My stomach twists the closer I get to the small group, threatening to turn up my dinner. I don't know why. I'm just greeting my friend, who happens to be talking to my Fawn.

My Fawn, who was in tears the last time I saw her.

My Fawn, who was so excited to get the attention she'd been craving from me, just for me to turn her away a second later.

My Fawn, who I haven't seen in so long that it can't just be a coincidence anymore.

My Fawn, who did what I asked and sent her father to speak to me the next day.

My Fawn, who doesn't know she's still technically my student. All because I rambled on about her achievements within the last year. All because I couldn't stomach telling her father that I threw up the second his daughter left my office the day before. All because I can't stomach the fact or reaction Raido would have knowing I took advantage of the admiration his daughter has for me all in the name of sexual tension and lust. The tension was brought forth because of my marriage issues, not because of my student.

"Hi," I bark once I'm in front of the group, my self-control just as wrecked as my volume control. Even Shikadai reacts, covering his ears.

My student tenses the second she sees me, her fingers clinging to Choji's bicep a little harder. Why in the world is my student touching him? Why is he letting her touch him? Why isn't Karui threatening to beat her ass? Can't the world see why she shouldn't be anywhere near my friends? I don't have the self-control to watch her mingle with them, with their kids, with my kid.

"Hey," Choji returns my greeting, eyes wide and slowly blinking as he looks me over. "Are you okay?" He slowly asks, sight dropping down my body like he's looking for a stab wound.

"Ya... I'm... ya. Namiashi-Chan?" I can feel my dinner in my throat when my Fawn flinches from her name on my tongue. "Where's your father?"

"Last I knew his dick was down your throat, so you'd know better than me," she snaps, releasing my friend from her death grip before turning toward his wife.

     I watch her, my eyes trailing on her form as I think over the insult. From a reaction like that, I take it Raido told my Fawn about our meeting and she did not take that news well. From her father's anbu tags still wrapped around her neck, dangling on her chest, I worry about a possible reaction she's going to make me have.

     Choji rattles on about whatever, small talk and the stress of preschool, probably. I barely listen, my full attention on my Fawn as she answers Karui's never-ending questions. She's dressed cute today, appropriately, sadly, but still adorable. A mute top and a floral skirt that falls just above her knees. A whisk of skin showing between the two. A whisk of skin just large enough to trail my tongue over.

     I'm reminded of my dinner again, sloshing around in my stomach, my sick feeling fueled by disgust with myself. I'm completely convinced I'll be sick on the daycare floor when the thought of sliding my hand under my Fawn's skirt keeps whirling through my thoughts.

     "Do you need to go outside for a smoke?" Choji asks, eyes flickering between my student and me. "You look pale."

     "Ya."

————————————

The moon is grossly dull tonight. Like the sun doesn't respect it enough to give it any light of day. Like how my Fawn doesn't respect me enough to give me any light of day.

     Half a puff is sucked from my dying cigarette, the second one since Choji went back inside to finish helping Karui with Chocho's orientation. Of course, not before trying to yank what's wrong out of me. I can't tell him what's going on.

     I can't tell anyone about my obsessive behaviors surrounding my student recently. What use would it be? It would just bring issues. Issues for me, my marriage, my son. Issues for my student, for her family just as much as mine. I need to figure out how to get this under control. Figure out how to get rid of it. My Fawn is a baby. One I've known for years. One that just became an adult.

     Five years isn't a terrible age gap, but it is. We were twelve and seventeen. That's not appropriate. Even now, eight and twenty-three isn't the best. Twenty and twenty-five aren't bad though. Nor is twenty-five and thirty... What am I thinking? She's my student. I'm her teacher. She's a baby.

     An annoyed sigh spills from me as I rub my hands down my face. This shouldn't be a thought, let alone a self-debate. The answer is no. I'm married. I have a child. She's barely not a child anymore... but I was eighteen when I got married, and nineteen when my son was born. No!

     I yank my pack out of my pocket, set on having another cigarette to try and take the edge off before I go back inside. I've already been out here too long. Temari is probably fuming and I've missed enough of Shikadai's orientation. One more smoke and then I'm pushing this issue down and focusing on being a good dad.

     The back door creaks as I settle my cigarette between my lips. The noise catches my attention, my eyes glancing to the side as I light the end of the stick. The stick almost falls from my mouth when a floral skirt slides through the corner of my sight.

"Ya, all the doors are pin pad secured and hooked to an external power source for an extra layer of security," my Fawn's voice lingers on as she presses herself against the door, propping it open as Naruto and Hinata wander outside.

"That sounds pretty fancy," Naruto chuckles, his eyes locked on their son as Hinata's stay set on him. It makes me envious, seeing how they're still so much in love. Why aren't Temari and me like that? Where did I go wrong?

     "We'll see you Monday," Hianta tells my Fawn, never pulling her focus away from her two boys.

     "Oh, no," my student corrects, sending our Hokage and his family a loose smile. "I don't work for the preschool. I'm on active duty. I'm just here as an extra set of hands."

     "Well, then I'm sure I'll see you coming or going," Naruto mutters, already walking away from her, his wife tucked tightly into his side and his son perched on his shoulders.

     "Of course, Lord Seventh," my Fawn replies, bowing her head as they walk past her. It's good to know at least one of us has our morals because I don't. It's easier to deny when she's not standing in front of me. It's easier to reason when I can't see her, smell her, hear her. I was her age when I got married, so it can't be too bad of a situation, can it?

     I race forward when she turns to go back inside and manage to grip her elbow to tug her back before she's too far out of reach. "Shikamaru," she hisses, body tense and a glare glued on her face. A glare aimed at the door that clicks closed, instead of blessing me with it. My tempting student still refuses to give me the light of day.

     "Namiashi-Chan," I whisper, slowly inching forward. I don't stop moving until her elbow, still cupped in my hand, is pressed into my side and my chest is pressed into her back. My Fawn tenses because of our close quarters, her glare depending as it burns into the metal door. "We should talk."

     "I don't have anything to say to you."

     "But I have plenty to say to you," I murmur, daring to brush my fingers against the cloth covering her thighs. It's soft, made of cotton, and encourages her scent to fill the space between us. A ripple slides through my Fawn's body, disrupting her hardness before it is present again. How cute, she's trying to stay mad at me, but her admiration for me still shines through. "Do you know why I've been cautious about what happened between us?"

     "Because you're married."

     "And?" I mutter, trailing my fingertips up her skirt, enjoying the next ripple that makes her spine curve.

     "Because you have a son."

     "And?" I repeat, taking my time to enjoy the gap between her skirt and her shirt, soaking in the warmth of her skin.

     "Because you're older than me; because you were already an adult when we met."

     I can't help the curving of my mouth. What a smart girl. What a selfish girl. Well aware of my thought process and yet, still so angry with me. My grin deepens when my touch trails to her back, racing between her shoulder blades to slide against her neck. I can't help the euphoria I feel when my Fawn's breath is sucked in just a smidge rougher than before. "And?"

     She stays quiet, her breaths getting shallower when I drop my hand to her waist and lean forward, exhaling so the air from my lungs brushes against her sensitive throat. "I... I don't know."

     "Because I'm your Sensei," I answer for her, daring to lower my head even more so my lips can tease the skin of her neck. Not quite a kiss, but nothing else either. "I'm your Sensei," I repeat, inching upward, leaving my mouth hovering as I trail around. "I couldn't bear the thought of someone else being your Sensei. Someone else helping you train. Someone else sitting with you at a shogi board. Someone else being your shogi partner. Do you understand that, my pretty little Fawn?"

     "Under... understand...?"

     I finally give in, brushing a kiss against the edge of her jawline to the dip of her neck. "Do you understand how those thoughts made me feel?" I ask, sliding more kisses against her throat as my hand lets go of her elbow. My touch is only away from her long enough to settle on her waist, my fingertips quickly poking under the hem of her short little shirt. "How many times in the past week I've thought about the feeling of your breast in my hand? How many times I've thought about those dangling little tags you use to tempt me? How many times I've stopped myself from calling your name while enjoying my wife?"

     "This is unprofessional, Shikamaru," she scolds, the airiness my kisses were gifting melted out of her voice. "Your wife and son are inside. If you're going to be a drag of a Sensei, you can at least be a good father. A good husband."

     My smile only deepens from the insult. My cute little Fawn, using my words against me. "Let me apologize for being a 'a drag of a Sensei' then," I murmur, sliding my hand against her. I inch my fingers further up her shirt, stopping their trip when I feel the lace of her bra under my touch. "It's the least I can do, Fawn."

     "Sensei," she calls, her hands falling to her stomach. One rests in the center of her waist, the other laid on top of my hand. My fingers jerk upward, finding their way between hers before locking around them.

     Not so headstrong now, are we, little Fawn? No, you're not. I've barely touched you and you're already falling apart.

     I softly hum in acknowledgment, widening my mouth to suck on her skin. I wiggle my way under the band of her bra, a ripple racing through me when my fingertips graze her breast. "What is it that you need, my little Fawn? Tell your Sensei what you need," I order, my hand shaking with the restraint to move slowly, keeping my tempo as my hand slides up to cup her boob.

     "You... you're... you can't..."

     "Tell me to stop and I will. Four letters. That's all it takes," I tell her, squeezing her flesh in my grasp, letting her boob melt between my fingers. It's warm, like I remember. Like I've been craving the whole week since I first got to enjoy it. "Tell me to stop," I order, tightening my grip on her fingers before tailing our knotted hands across her belly before pulling them down.

     "I... I..."

     "Want me to stop?" My fingers hook on her skirt, slowly pulling it up her legs. "Or maybe you want to accept my apology? Which will it be, Fawn?" I ask, jerking our hands down when her skirt is pulled far enough up. "Tell me what you want."

     My Fawn's chest pumps faster as I slide my fingertips against her panties, my touch finding an already present damp spot. I fall quiet, focused on her nerves as I wait for an answer. My mouth cups her throat, sucking on her skin with the plan to leave my mark behind. The hand buried under her shirt finds her nipple, tugging on it to encourage a whimper to fall loose from her legs. Our hands knifed and buried between her legs stay pressed against her, gentle circles being laid against the proof of her wetness.

     Pitched attempts at words spill from my student. Her fingers tighten against mine and the hand on her stomach jumps up to cling to my wrist pressed against her rib cage. "Sen... Sensei... Sensei," she whines, her call on me on repeat, not that I mind. It's my new favorite song. One I'd happily listen to forever.

     "That's not an answer, Fawn," I murmur, shoving my nose into her neck. I get what I want, her head tipped to the side and more room to bruise her skin.

     "Shikamaru." My hips jerk at the sound of my name on her lips, my ignored boner rubbing against her ass. My hand grips her boob again, squeezing it as whispered hopes of my fingerprints being left behind fight for room in my mind. "Please?"

     "Fuck," I groan into her neck, grinding against her add harder. I jerk her panties to the side, keeping a strong hold on her hand as two of my fingers loosen for the knot. "You say my name so beautiful, Fawn."

     Her fingernails dig into my wrist when I start rubbing circles against her clit, egging me on even more. Yes, little Fawn, leave your mark too. Punish your Sensei for being a bad man, for treating you so poorly. Make me beg for your forgiveness.

     "I'm sorry, Fawn," I whisper into her ear, sliding our hands down so my fingertips can tease her pussy that clenches in protest. "Sensei is so sorry for pushing you away, for trying to get rid of you."

     "You're mean."

     "I know," I mutter, latching my mouth around a sliver of skin again, brutally sucking on it. I want her littered in my hickeys. I want it to be impossible for her to hide them. I want every man in the village to see them as they admire those annoyingly dangled tags she wears every day. "Let me make it up to you, Fawn."

     The shaky moan that melts off her lips is almost enough to make me bust. The feeling of her pussy clinging to my fingers as I push them in doesn't do anything to help. "I hate you," my Fawn whimpers, her head lulling before resting against my shoulder.

     The lack of access to her neck annoys me, but her hips jerking to push my fingers deeper into her cunt makes up for it. "I know," I whisper, focusing my kisses against her cheek. I curl my fingers, getting another jerk of her hips and my dick to twitch in need. I deserve this, my needs ignored, being driven crazy with the want to feel her pussy wrapped around my cock instead of my fingers.

     The slow drag of my fingers out of her before thrusting them back in gets me a moan and hooded eyes. The faster my fingers move inside her, the whiner her moans get, and the more desperate for relief is what I get. I deserve this. My Fawn deserves this. This is how it's going to stay.

     "Shikamaru," she whines, her legs shaking with the quickly ending timer until her orgasm.

     "Forgive me, Fawn," I whisper into her ear, trying my hardest to keep my movements the exact same. "Tell me you forgive me. Tell your Sensei you forgive him."

     "You don't deserve my forgiveness."

     My jaw clenches at her words, partly because they're right, and partly because they anger my dick even more. I want to be buried in her, desperate to cum as I beg for forgiveness, told I don't get to cum until I get it. I want her to forgive me now. I want her to never forgive me. I want my Fawn hunched over my desk with her pussy leaking my cum. I want my Fawn to tell me I'm never allowed to touch her again after this. I want everything and nothing from her, all at once.

     "Shikamaru!" She calls for me, her cunt clenching as she comes undone. My Fawn doesn't deserve to cum while I'm still locked away behind my zipper. She doesn't deserve to soak our hands in her slick. And yet, she deserves having me graveling at her feet, begging to touch her, to taste her, to fuck her.

     I gently hush her, slowing the pace of my fingers thrusting in and out of her. I coat her face in kisses, dropping my hand away from her chest to gently rub her stomach. "You're so pretty, Fawn. You did such a good job. Do you feel better?"

     "I feel dirty," she whispers, the bliss of orgasm quickly being washed away by regret. My Fawn straightens herself, yanking her hand out of mine. My eyes follow her movements, watching the dragging minutes of her straightening herself.

     My Fawn fixes her skirt before running her not-soaked hand through her hair. After an eternity of tense silence, she slowly turns around, finally facing me, finally giving me the time of day, and yet, I couldn't feel any worse if I tried. "You didn't tell my Dad you're stepping down as my Sensei."

     "Well, that's because - "

     "I'm not done talking," my Fawn cuts me off, raising her hand in a stop. "If you don't want to step down, fine, I can't make you, but this," she motions between the two of us, her face blank and empty. The same look she has while she's trying to think her way through a game of shogi. "Isn't happen again. You're married. You have a son. I have no interest in being a mistress and honestly, you're not worth my time."

     This is a serious conversation, one that we need to have, and yet all I can think about is laying her out in my bed. All I can feel is the twitch of my dick, the body part having a mind of its own and a growing want to get wet the longer my student degrades me.

     "We're not doing this again."

     "Okay," I murmur, shoving my hands into my pockets.

     My Fawn steps forward, making me way more excited than I should be. Her fingertips grip my shirt, using it to wipe her juices off her fingertips. Thoughts of shoving my face into my shirt as I relieve myself later play on repeat in my mind. It makes me feel dirty and yet it makes my balls hurt more.

     "I'm not going to let you make me feel like a dirty secret."

     I can't help the heat raking up my spine, caused by the glare on my student's face. Damn right, Fawn. Tell me what to do. Tell me what not to do. Tell me I'm a bad man. Keep telling me I'm not worth you. Step on me and tell me I'm not even worth the dirt on your shoes.

     I need help. Life would be so much easier if I was a cloud.

     "Okay," I repeat, quickly blinking to try and wash all my thoughts from my mind. My student stays put for a second, searching my face as a glimpse of uncertainty flickers across her expression. Don't do that, Fawn. Don't be uncertain. Tell me to jump and I'll jump. Tell me to bark and I'll bark. Tell me to never talk to you again and I won't.

     I really need help. I shouldn't feel like this over her. I should have walked away the first time this feeling bubbled up. Yet, I didn't. I let it play out. It's my fault we're in this situation. My Fawn made my heart flutter and I ran into Temari's arms because I thought it was more acceptable, because I thought I was confused. I'm a terrible man.

     "I'll see you tomorrow, Sensei," My Fawn whispers, stepping backward.

     "Tomorrow?"

     "We have a shogi game to finish, don't we?"

     "Ya."

     I got my shogi partner back, but at what cost?

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[13as07]

Little Mouse #2

(Orochimaru)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Millbyo]

Requested by: Not Your Dad, Probably

Word Count: 3,249

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Name Calling: Pet, Mouse, Good Girl, Brats

Nudity

Sexual Tension

Exhibitionism

Threats of Violence

Discussion of Non-con Somnophilia/Rape

Manipulation/Victim Blaming

Titty Play

Spanking

Biting/Blood

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     The feeling of chilled designs being painted across my lower abdomen is the first thing to greet my awakening. " - sat the hideous beast whose craft had seduced me into murder, and whose informing voice had consigned me to the hangman," my Lord's voice purrs softly, retelling my favorite of stories.

     Carefully, I let my eyes roll open, my body slowly waking up alongside my mind. "I had walled the monster up within the tomb," he finishes, his fingertips freezing against me as I move in his lap.

     I pick my head off of his shoulder, shifting my limbs to shake off the weight I feel on them. My eyes dance around the scenery in front of me, slowly piecing together what's going on. Darkness hangs around us, encouraged by the trees' canopies, the bushy greenery, and the rows upon rows of different plants my Lord has growing for my enjoyment as much as their uses to him.

     Snips of the evening are scattered around my mind. My Lord's excitement and wish for celebration. Me asking to go outside and see the stars. The accidental cursing that left me in pain a while ago and currently leaves me aching.

     Forcing myself to sit upright sends the blanket wrapped around me tumbling to my lap. Orochimaru's freezing touch and the soft chilled air rolling across my skin tip me off to my nudity before my eyes do. Embarrassment stirs in my stomach, my eyes continuing to scan the scenery to try and wash it away.

     Were settled into the gazebo hidden deep within the garden sealed and cared for within the manor's gates. The stars twinkle above the glass ceiling of the small building, shining bright because of the low light given off by the candles and lanterns littered around us.

     Trays of sesame cookies, various flavored Swiss rolls, and a selection of dango treats are settled on the table a few steps away, framed by a wide selection of other foods. The scent of chicken is light in the air; four or five different variations of poultry are offered alongside cooked veggies, steaming rice, and fresh fruits.

     My Lord and I are sat on the wooden floor, our position feathered more comfortably than raw wood. Blankets and pillows drown us, cushioning us as much as they try to block out the chill of the spring night. I'm bare in his lap, nothing but a blanket hiding my lower body from the world. The feeling of his chilled skin pressed against me is only cut off in a small section, a pair of sleeping shorts being the only thing he's wearing.

     Orochimaru's hand wanders down, drawing circles against the skin of my inner thigh. The touch is small but lights me like a forest fire. It also lights the awareness of others around us. Kabuto is settled off to the side, busy looking over one scroll or another but still ready to jump to our Lord's beck and call when needed. Two guards are settled outside of the gazebo, perched right off the six short steps it takes to enter our space. I'm sure others are littered around the garden as well, guarding, searching, and watching.

     My hands ball up the blanket, set to pull it back over myself. "Don't do that, my Pet," Orochimaru whispers in my ear, the weight of the storybook being placed in my lap leading to the feeling of his hand wrapping around my wrist. "You're going to ruin my celebration."

     "My Lor - "

     "Your Orochi," he cuts me off, his head falling so his lips can brush against my shoulder. "I'm your Orochi. I've been more than patient with you, little Mouse, but I'm starting to believe I'll have to carve my name into you. Is that what you need, Mouse? To be held down as I carefully mark you with my name? Do I need to make you bleed to force my name off your lips?" His kisses stay light as he threatens me, dragging their way across my shoulder. His fingertips stay active too, his claws gently scratching against my skin as they inch a slow winding path across my leg.

     "No," I whisper, trying my best not to squirm away from his attention. "I'm sorry, Orochi."

     "I know," he whispers, his teeth tugging on my earlobe before his lips are back in control, slowly crawling from behind my ear, down my neck. "How do you feel, my pretty Pet?"

     I stay silent for a moment, taking the time to evaluate how I feel. "My wrist is a bit sore," I mutter, moving it back and forth to feel how painful it truly is. "My hips ache. Most of my body aches but my..." The words fall silent on my tongue, my mind at war with what to say. I know something happened while I was unconscious. I can feel it, but I'm not sure I want to listen to my Lord reminisce on it.

     Orochimaru chuckles, his fangs brushing against my jugular. "I got excited, Mouse," he whispers against my throat, his fingertips brushing up my hip to settle on a lower section of my torso. "I couldn't help myself. You looked so beautiful in your pretty robe, sprawled out on my table. I thought just a taste," his words fall short so his tongue can slide out, tracing the vein that's holding his attention.

"Would be sustainable but I should know by now it never is. I couldn't help but enjoy you while you looked so wounded. After all, if you hadn't let me curse you, you wouldn't have been unconscious. If you hadn't tried so hard to look pretty for me, I wouldn't have had the urge to rape you."

     "Oh," I whisper, staring up at the stars twinkling through the glass above us.

     Orochimaru's nose slides against his favorite spot on my neck at the same time his fingertips slide around my wrist, pushing into my wrist so he can test my pulse. "Say it's your fault, little Mouse."

     "It's my fault."

     "What's your fault?" His tone is cold but humorous, his joy from belittling me never tempted to be hidden.

     "What you did."

     "What did I do?"

My eyes sting as I blink, trying to smooth the pain over without crying. "Rape me," I whisper, instantly starting to count the stars once the words are out.

He hums, lips brushing against my neck before his fangs tease my jugular. "Say it again, little Mouse."

"It's my fault I was raped," I comply, fire burning over my skin, and not in a good way this time.

"Aww, my poor Pet," Orochi coos, fingertips sliding up my arm and trailing over my shoulder before settling around my jaw. His grip hardens before tipping my head backward, forcing eye contact. "Look at those pretty eyes, all welled up with tears. You're the most beautiful while you're in pain, Mouse. Physical or mental."

     "Thank you."

     Orochimaru hums again, tipping his down to brush his lips against mine. "You're fine, my pretty Pet. Don't ruin my celebration by crying. Am I understood?"

     "Yes, Orochi."

     "There's a good girl," he finally praises, the four little words wiping away the weight of betrayal that has been stirring in my stomach. "Don't wear things so tempting and you won't get raped, will you? No, you won't." Orochimaru releases my jaw, his focus shifting off of me and effectively ending the conversation. His order makes sense, but there's still a whisper in the back of my mind, telling me no matter what I was wearing, the outcome would have been the same.

     "Dry those tears," his next order comes, his slim fingers picking the book off of my lap before cracking it open and flipping through the pages. "I'll make it up to you in a while."

     "Oh."

     "Oh?" He echoes, his head lowering to run his nose over his favorite spot for the millionth time. "Aren't you curious what I plan to do to you?"

     "Yes, Orochi."

     "When I'm all done here, I'm going to carry my pretty pet back into the manor, lay her out on my bed, feel her dripping cunt squeeze my fingers, and slide my tongue through her until there's not a single inch of the manor that hasn't heard her scream my name." The softly spoken words and the feeling of Orochimaru's tongue tracing the veins of my throat make my thighs squeeze together, trying to tarnish the heat making my mind fuzzy. "Isn't that worth a bit of defiling, Little Mouse?"

"Yes, Orochi," I breathe out, his name shaky despite my attempt to keep my voice even.

"Look at you," he mocks, his teeth brushing against my neck, quickly giving my skin a small nip after. "I've barely touched you and you're already quivering. You need to calm yourself, Mouse. You wouldn't want to ruin our celebration, would you?"

"No, Orochi."

"I didn't think so." His attention falls off of me again, back to the thick book filled full of stories from before our time, from before the world we live in. The book is snapped open, settled in the middle of my lap as Orochimaru leans over me. My eyes trail over his fingers, admiring their slimness, the paleness of them, and trying not to think about what they'll be doing to me later.

He settles on the first page of my favorite story, The Black Cat, by someone named Edgar. It's a weird name, one that Orochimaru tells me is oriented from some old city called England. A city that stood before the Gods rained down on our world and gifted us the way of life we have now.

     "For the most wild, yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen, I neither expect nor solicit belief. Mad indeed would I be to expect it, in a case where my very senses reject their own evidence," he starts reading, his hands quickly finding a way to stay busy as his eyes crawl across the pages. One hand waves at Kabuto while the other crawls up my body, fingertips sliding across my belly in soothing circles.

     "Yet, mad am I not, and very surely do I not dream. But tomorrow I die, and today I would unburden my soul. My immediate purpose is to place before the world, plainly, succinctly, and without comment, a series of mere household events," he continues reading, head bowing to brush kisses against my shoulder between each of his words.

Kabuto settles next to us, head bowed so our Lord can whisper in his ear. My story is put on pause for orders to be given. As soon as the boy steps away, I'm the center of Orochimaru's attention again. His arm wraps around my waist, turning me in his lap before flipping us over.

My back settles against the mountain of pillows as my Lord picks up the fallen book, settling it safely next to us. His attention falls to the blanket tied around my legs, carefully pulling it away from me. The cold spring air breezes over my newly exposed skin, the chill making my nipples pebble, something that doesn't go unnoticed.

"My poor pet," Orochimaru coos, lying himself on top of me. His hands cup my hips, his mouth teasingly low as he brushes kisses against my bare skin. "Are you cold?"

     "I'm fine, Orochi," I mutter, my fingers finding work in balling up the bedding rested under me.

     His tongue slides out after every kiss, kitty-licking my skin as he inches his way up my body. "A good master would warm you up. Wrap you in clothing or blankets. I'm not a good master," he whispers against my stomach. Orochimaru unfolds on top of me, more of his weight pressing into me the higher up he climbs. "I'm a selfish master, one that'll gladly let you freeze if it means I get to enjoy every inch of your unburdened skin."

     "I know, Orochi."

     His tongue pokes out again, slithering against my breast as his hands slide up my sides to rest against my rib cage. It doesn't take long until his muscle finds my hardened nipple, lapping at the pebble before wrapping around it. Luckily, Orochimaru's mouth is warmer than his skin. My body happily excepting the warmth offered when he sucks my tit into his mouth.

The warmth doesn't stay for long, quickly taken away with a pop of Orochi's mouth. "Delicious," he marvels, laying one last long lick across my breast before pulling away from me. My Lord moves around, situating himself to face away from me as he lays between my legs, my knees hooked over his shoulders. "Now, where were we?" He mutters, cozying into his new spot as he flicks through the storybook again.

"Ah, yes," he mumbles, settling back into the pages of the old tale. "In their consequences, these events have terrified, have tortured, have destroyed me. Yet I will not attempt to expound them. To me, they have presented little but horror, to many they will seem less terrible than baroque."

     I tap my thighs against his cheeks, making his words come out a little jumbled. Orochimaru paws at my thigh, gently slapping it so I'll release my grip. "Hereafter, perhaps, some intellect may be found which will reduce - Mouse," he rumbles, spanking my leg when I squeeze his face again. "I cannot read to you if you keep interfering with my speech."

"I'm sorry, Orochi."

"Lair," he grumbles, spanking my thigh once again. My flesh stings where his hand made contact, this punishment given to me harder to nip at any further attempts of distraction. "Behave," I'm ordered as he turns his focus back to the book. He's silent for a moment, trying to find his spot again. "Hereafter, perhaps, some intellect may be found which will reduce my phantasm to the common-place, some intellect more calm, more logical, and far less excitable than my own, which will perceive, in the circumstances I detail with awe, nothing more than an ordinary succession of very natural causes and effects."

Kabuto settles next to us, standing woodenly straight as he looks down at our Lord. Two plates are settled in his hands, one packed with sweets and fruit while the other sports the various chicken and other non-sugary foods. "My Lord," he carefully calls, lips pierced with the knowledge he's going to be yelled at.

"Dear Gods above, let me read," Orochi snaps, his anger spearing into his civil servant. "I can barely handle you two, who knows how I'll balance Sasuke on top of you brats."

     My eyes flicker up, glancing at Kabuto. 'Tell you later' is mouthed down to me before his focus switches back to Orochimaru. "Apologies, My Lord," he mutters, tilting his head down in a sloppy bow. "I figured you'd want your Mouse to eat while her food was still hot. After all, it should help warm her up without taking away your joys of skin-on-skin contact."

     Orochi tenses against me, his anger seething in his expression. "Smart ass," he hisses, jerking his gaze away from the boy. "I do it because I enjoy degrading my little Mouse, not because I enjoy skin-on-skin contact."

Kabuto hums, cocking an eyebrow before lowering the plates toward our Lord. Orochimaru snatches the dishes, settling them on the floor as he grumbles to himself. "That is all, be gone," he snaps, waving his second hand away.

"Lord, Lady," Kabuto mutters, bowing before walking away from us like he always does. I wonder who this Sasuke guy is and if he'll be as interesting and entertaining as the servant Orochi has now.

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Annoyance weighs in my chest like an animal locked in a cage, gnawing at my ribs. My Mouse is lying bare because it's degrading. Being denied the basic right to clothing, and forced to lay outside on a chilled spring night, painfully aware of everyone's eyes on her. That is why she's nude. That is why she's wrapped around my head like a Cobra. Not because I care about skin-on-skin contact.

     My teeth snap at her thigh, sinking into the plush flesh waiting for me. A small whimper parts from her, sounding like bells in my ears. My little Mouse tightens her legs around my head, encouraging me to sink my teeth deeper. It doesn't take long for her skin to give in, the sweet nectar of her blood coating my tongue in response. Whimpers waterfall quicker the harder I shove my teeth down, making my groan ache.

     "Orochi," my Pet squeaks, her fingers shaking as they wrap around my hair.

     My jaw relaxes, paired with a sigh pushed out of my nose. Why must I have such a fragile Mouse? My tongue laps at the bite mark I left behind, each of my teeth perfectly outlined in her flesh. The mark is already starting to bruise, the darkening skin mixing with the vibrant red of her blood. I happily lick the liquid up, the taste being my favorite treat. One that I'd happily suck down as much as my Pet sucks down those dango treats I have made for her.

     "Are you hungry?" I mutter, nipping at the perfectly maintained skin around the beautiful proof of me on her leg.

     I'm a lot of things, a lair not being one of them. I don't plan on playing with my Pet until I think she's had her fill outside. But, when I do cash in on my promise, I'll follow it to the last letter. My little Mouse is going to be left broken in my bed. Shaking. Crying. Littered in even more of me. Begging me to fuck her again and then wailing for me to stop because she can't handle it anymore. Left a mental reck as I mock her for her desperation, for so willingly lying herself out for a man that openly admitted to raping her.

     It's my favorite game, fucking my Mouse while she's unconscious. Watching the betrayal and disgust with herself settle into her expression afterward. Forcing her to admit that my "lack of control" was her fault. Seeing her lust and craving for me break her to pieces. Getting to taste the tears rolling down her face as she cries because of her self-betrayal.

     But, I can't focus on that right now. My precious Pet needs nutrition to help recover from the curse that riddled her body. Nutrition so I can enjoy my wanted way of celebrating. After all, there's nothing more beautiful than my broken Mouse in shambles, clinging to me like I'll save her even though she knows I'm the one that snapped her in two.

     "Yes, Orochi."

     My eyes flutter at my name on her lips, my breath hiccuping for a second before I get it back under control. I swear, before Hiruzen's body cools, I'll have my Pet propped on his desk, devouring her like the Lady of the village she is. Soon enough, she'll be a lady of two villages, then the world, like she deserves. Maybe I'll snatch my Sensei's glass globe too. Smash it to pieces and use the shards to make my little Mouse the crown she deserves.

     "Let me feed you then," I murmur, wrapping my fingers around her thigh to tug her into my lap. "As you eat, I'll continue reading to you, Mouse, alright?"

     "Alright, Orochi."

———————————————————————

[13as07]

Shogi Partner #1

(Shikamaru Nara)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Pixiv Id]

Requested by: Anonymous

Word Count: 3,385

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Name Calling: Baby Girl, Fawn

Age Gap

Power Imbalance (Teacher/Student)

Borderline Pedophilia

Choking

Titty Play

Cheating

———————————————————————

"Come along," my Father orders, his long fingers waving me forward, trying to beckon me along.

"I don't get why you can't keep training me," I mutter, dragging my feet as much as possible. There's not much stalling to do since Dad is only a few steps away, but that doesn't stop me from trying.

"We've talked about this, Baby Girl," Dad starts his repeated speech, slinging an arm over my shoulders once I'm close enough for him to grab onto. He uses his hold to stop any attempts at escaping and to continue moving me forward. "You just graduated from the academy and despite how amazing of a shinobi I am, I'm not equipped to train you in the things you excel at. Your dear Dad is great at the bronze department, not so much the brains department."

     "So, what? You're going to thrust me into the arms of Uncle Genma?"

     Dad lets out a rippling chuckle, his arm bending upward to ruffle my hair. "Uncle Genma hates all children, besides you. I'm not going to tempt that changing by asking him to train you. Besides, there's a Shinobi five or six years older than you that'll be better fitted as your Sensei. He's got the whole brains thing going for him too. I think you two will be a nice challenge for each other."

     "Whatever you say," I mutter under my breath, not fully believing Dad. Since the end of the war, he's been set on finding the best-fitted Sensei for my 'brains' as he calls them. No one on the lineup has been beneficial enough for my Father.

The few that have passed him have ended up getting shot down by his best friend; Genma, who swears that they're either not smart enough to keep up with my 'growing mind' or give off perv vibes. I'd be more than happy to continue my training under Dad or with one of his friends, but I haven't gotten much of a say in who I train under, the event about to unfold being example one of that.

Our walk falls into a comfortable silence, Dad's body heat fighting off the beginning of the autumn chill that crawls across my skin. My eyes bounce around the landscape, looking over the same scenery I have the whole of my life. At least it's the same scenery until I'm pulled left, cutting through the border lines between Akimichi territory and Nara territory.

     It doesn't take long until official markers of Nara territory filter into my sight, their clan symbols and a million different deer-themed decorations littered all over their property. I stay silent but eye Dad, trying to figure out who exactly he plans to have take over my training.

     Soon enough, the distinct replica of every clan's headquarters filters into the landscape too, seeming like a sore thumb in comparison to the other architecture of the grounds. However, that's the case for almost every clan. Still, I stay silent as Dad leads me into the round building.

The same muddy green and smoky grey coats the Nara Clan Center as it does the rest of their grounds. Unlike the prosperity, the space is decorated with pictures of past Chiefs instead of antlers and artworks featuring the deer population.

"Hello," Dad greets the receptionist, his usual flirty airiness set in his voice that's always present when he's speaking to a woman he finds attractive. The only bigger flirt in the village than him is Uncle Genma. No wonder neither is married.

"Hello," the lady returns drily, unamusement in her tone. "How can I help you?"

"My daughter and I have a meeting with Shikamaru."

"At ten-thirty, yes, you do. It's currently ten-fifteen, Namiashi-San."

Dad shrugs his shoulders, eyes lazily trailing the wall before falling on the blonde again. "Better early than late, right?"

I almost gag at the sight of him checking her out, not an ounce of embarrassment on his face when his eyes lag on her chest. "Dad?"

Instantly, my Father's flirty act ends, his full attention on me. "Baby Girl?" He calls back, his usual gentle grin back on his face.

"You're acting like a pervert."

The color washes out of his face at the same time a satisfied smile crawls onto the lady's. A pout settles in place, enjoyment still swimming in his eyes. Slowly, his smile returns as he opens his mouth, ready to tease me back.

"It's good to see Iwashi isn't the only one keeping Genma and you in line, Raido."

Dad's eyes stay on me for a second, a soft encouraging smile being sent to me before he turns toward the mystery voice. "Ya, my daughter does a pretty good job at keeping my head on my shoulders," his voice rings out, an arm going up before resting on my back when I move to tuck myself into his side again. "Say hello, Baby Girl," he encourages, rubbing my back as he smiles down at me.

"Hello," I obey, slowly lifting my eyes off the ground to look at the person Dad has been talking to. Standing in front of us is a tall man, a few centimeters shorter than my Father, but still tall. He's a slim guy, the sort of beautifully slim that makes my cheeks heat up. Youthfulness is still melted into his expression, aged more than mine but not enough to be more than five or so years older.

     "Hey," he greets, a blank expression on his face, making him seem even more handsome. His skin is pale and flawless, reminding me of freshly fallen snow. The rest of his features counter his skin tone but in a perfectly fitting way. The dark raven color of his hair is a nice contrast, especially paired with his dark-slitted eyes. I wouldn't be surprised if this guy walked straight off a photo shoot.

     "Remember last week when you said you'd do anything for a decent shogi partner?"

     "Ya," the guy carefully answers, slowly turning his focus back to Dad.

     Dad clasps his hands onto my shoulders, gently pushing me toward the young adult. "My daughter has been undefeated for the past few years. Even beat Genma a handful of times."

     "Genma's strategy is sloppy."

     "Come on Shikamaru. Just one game."

     "Why? What do you expect to gain from me playing a game of shogi with your daughter?"

     "Well, I've been looking for someone fitting to take over her training now that she's graduated from the - "

     "No," the man - Shikamaru - interprets, a tad of emotion swirling on his face. Disgust, maybe? Repulsion? "I have enough on my plate. I don't need or want to play teacher."

     "Come on," Dad repeats, pushing me closer to the guy. The scent of pine and cigarette smoke mixes together and melts off him, only adding more heat to my cheeks. "She's smart. So smart. Choza says my Baby Girl reminds him of you at her age. It's a beneficial situation for both of you. One lesson per game of shogi. It really is - "

"If I say yes, will you leave me alone?" Shikamaru butts in again, his fingers pressed to his temples and rub circles into his skin.

"Yes."

"Fine."

                      ————————————

     The Fawn I've been responsible for since... how long have I been playing shogi with Namiashi-Chan? I rest my chin on my folded hands, my eyes glued to the game board as I both wait for her to play her turn and think over how long our agreement has been going on.

     She's been visiting me for lessons and a daily game since she graduated from the academy. My little Fawn graduated on time so she was what? Twelve? I think so. I was twelve when I graduated.

     She just had a birthday three or four months ago. I know she did. Tamari and I took our son to it. How old did my Fawn turn? Sixteen? Seventeen? She's six years younger than me. How old am I? I was nineteen when Shikadai was born and he's four. So... I'm twenty-three, which makes my Fawn eighteen.

     My eyes flicker up to glance at her, taking a quick look at her face. Over the years she's gotten better at hiding her thoughts and feelings during our games, but her eyes still widen and shrink in time with her thoughts and feelings, hence 'fawn'.

     We had to leave early from her party because Shikadai had a meltdown when we told him no more cupcakes. She tried hard to hide her disappointment but it shinned in her eyes.

     My Fawn looks nothing like she did when I left her party. She's empty-faced, her eyes glued to a single spot in another attempt not to give away her plans. During my leave from her party, her eyes were misty, and jumping around to avoid looking at me.

     I'm not dumb or oblivious. I'm aware of my Fawn's feelings for me. She wears them quite openly, especially in recent years. Even now it's written all over her choices and body language. The bright lipstick to pull my attention to her mouth, the loose top and dangly anbu tags to pull my eyes down her shirt.

     The anbu tags are carved with her father's information. The anbu tags worn with age to the point the 'do' in Raido and the 'mai' in Namiashi have started to fade. The anbu tags that had a section of chain replaced last month. The anbu tags that softly rise with my Fawn's breasts every time she breaths.

     Not that I'm paying attention to the easy lust trap my Fawn set up. That would be inappropriate for multiple reasons. She's freshly eighteen. I met her when she was twelve and when I was seventeen. She's my student. I hold multiple layers of power over her; teacher, a village chief, Hokage advisor. I'm married, with a son. Happily married… Very happily married.

     The sound of a playing piece clicking against the board snaps me out of my thoughts. Disgust with myself crawls up my throat as I yank my eyes away from my Fawn's chest. My eyes focus on the board instead, trying to figure out the play she made.

     Now that her turn is over, Namiashi-Chan leans against her propped-up leg, her cheek squishing against her knee as she rests her head. Her lips are pressed tight together, the telltale sign that she found a hole in her strategy. Now, I just need to find it. "You're unusually quiet today," I comment, filling some of the space as I try to see what she sees unfolding on the board.

     "Am I?" Lips back thin, hiding away the red paint lacing them.

     I wonder if she smears her lipstick when she puts it on. Tameri always manages to put it on perfectly and complains when I mess it up. I bet the boys Fawn plays with like her lipstick smeared if there are any boys. I wonder how hot it would be, Namiashi-Chan's lipstick getting ruined because of her lips wrapping around my -

"Yes," I yelp, cutting off my train of thought. "Yes, you've been really quiet today." I think I'm going to be sick.

     My Fawn's head tilts more, eyebrows pushed together as she looks me over. "I'm just thinking," she mutters, concern quickly water-falling over her features. "Are you okay, Sensei? You look like you're going to throw up."

     "I'm fine." I'm just having perverted thoughts about you because of your slutty red lips and wide open top that teases the spilling of your titties. Oh, and your father's anbu tags. I'm sure your dad enjoys the fact men trail over a symbol of his career before looking down your shirt. "Sorry."

     "For what?"

     Calling your lipstick slutty and talking about you like you're a prostitute instead of a high-ranked shinobi. "Being so busy recently. Temari has been anxious about Shikadai starting preschool next week." Technically, not a lie... I think.

     I wouldn't know how Temari is feeling. The last year has been rough for us. Constant fights about my work, about our son's future, about her want to move us to the Sand Village, about both of us refusing to retire to ensure at least one of us will come home alive. I can't just leave my Clan, retiring as a Shinobi and moving out of the village both mean that would have to happen. I refuse to abandon my post as chief. It's not what would be good for my people. It's not what my Father would want.

     "It's alright. When you told me Temari was pregnant I figured your plate would be fuller. Don't worry so much, Sensei," my Fawn tries to comfort me, her lips spread into a smile. It's concerning how red her lips are. It can't just be lipstick.

     My eyes trail over her father's tags again, wondering how plumper her breasts would get if she got pregnant. Temari went up a full cup size. Would my Fawn's boobs grow that much too? How round would her belly get? How adorable would she be waddling around stuffed full with my child? My child... Shikadai. Temari. Fawn... baby deer. A fawn is a baby deer, and Namiashi-Chan is a baby adult.

     Another wave of nausea hits me, the acid of my stomach roaring to try and get out. Why do my thoughts keep wondering? Especially to a place as dark as that? What kind of man thinks about impregnating their student? A girl they've known since before her teen years? A terrible man. I'm a terrible man.

     "Sensei?" Namiashi-Chan whispers, pulling my attention out of my thoughts. Once I'm focused on her again, the perverted dark thoughts come crashing down again. She's leaned across the table, concern forcing her cherry lips into a deep frown, and her hand pressed against my forehead. "Are you sure you're fine? You're really pale and your forehead feels warm."

     Instantly my eyes drop down, investigating the way this position makes her chest look. Her boobs are pressed further up, teasing the neckline of her shirt even more. The thought of sliding my dick between her tits flickers through my mind, making me feel sicker, my disgust with myself only deepening when my dick twitches. "I'm fine."

     "Are you sure? Do you want me to fetch you some medicine? Or water?"

     Her big doe eyes are locked on me, drowning in worry and drowning my penis in a rush of blood. I wonder how her eyes would look while sucking me off. How'd they look while I'm fucking her? Like this? Round, soft, and so full of life? Or would they be more hardened, focused, constantly changing depth like they do while she's concentrating?

Before the head on my shoulders can get a say, I'm leaning forward, trailing my nose across her cheek as I get in position to kiss her. My hand jumps, fingertips sliding under the chain lying across her neck. The second my lips brush against hers, my hand falls into place below her jawline, wrapping around her throat and gently gripping it. Enough for my Fawn to feel the pressure but not enough to cut her breathing short.

A second of shock runs through my Fawn before she's present in the kiss too, her lips still slightly pasty. Something that makes me feel worse about myself but equally good brews in my chest, knowing her lipstick is still wet because she put it on just for me.

My fingers tighten around her throat, testing the waters of her reaction. A small hmph of pleasure spills from her, getting sucked down my throat when I part my lips. My tongue slips out, forcing its way into her mouth, another sound bubbles from my pretty Fawn when I get my way.

Again, the head straining against my pants wins out the command war, my free hand finding its way to her waist. I ball up the material of her shirt, yanking it upward until the hem is sliding against my fingers. My touch slides under Fawn's shirt, slowly trailing across her ribs before tracing the band of her bra.

The sounds overflowing from Namiashi-Chan are as sweet as the taste of her mouth, coated in the flavor of sugar and the lingering mint taste of her toothpaste. "Shikamaru," my name comes out shaky and jumbled as it gets eaten up by our kisses. How long has it been since I've heard my name in such a way? Breathless. Sweet. Needy. Intoxicating.

My fingers squirm their way under her bra, sliding upward to cup her breast. It's warm against my palm and as soft as I'd expect. My Fawn has always looked soft, sweet, and innocent. But, I'm not stupid. I know the stuff teenagers get up to. I wonder what the list of naughty things Namiashi-Chan has done consists of.

A jagged moan jerks out of her lungs when the pads of my fingers find her nipple, twirling it between them before pinching it every few seconds. I pull back from her, less than half an inch to suck a breath into my burning lungs.

I take the time to look her over, picking at the reactions she's having to my attention. Her chest is heaving, lips parted with her tongue threatening to poke out as she pants, and her eyes are half hooded, a perfect mix of the soft doe eyes I enjoy so much and arousal. My little Fawn is a sensual type it seems, getting excited simply from touching. I wonder how excited she'd get if I touched her elsewhere.

Her hand which was resting on my forehead for a fever check is now gripping my shoulder like a lifeline. Like I'll vanish into thin air if she lets me go. "Namiashi-Chan?" Her eyes widen a tad from her name rolling off my tongue, the reaction making my dick ache even more. She's so aware of everything all the time, as perfect of a mini-me as a student could get. I wonder how aware she'd be of my tongue twirling her nipple instead of my fingertips.

My request sticks in my throat, feeling like the only thing holding my sickness down at the moment. What in the world am I doing? I shouldn't have kissed her, I shouldn't be touching her like this, I shouldn't have caused her to look at me like she is right now.

"Go home," I whisper, reluctantly pulling my hands off of her. Instantly they feel chilled without my Fawn's body heat to keep them warm. Her neck looks empty too, without my fingers wrapped around it.

"What?" My chest hurts at the sight of her emotions crashing down.

Her eyes are wider, dewy from my order, but still swirling with lust. The corners of her lips are pointed down, her forehead scrunched with confusion. My poor Fawn, emotionally wrecked and upset because of me. Her chest is still pumping, an attempt to keep her emotions in control and locked down I'm sure. Young girls are so emotional, so easily swayed to tears. That doesn't mean I feel any better about coercing her tears.

"Go home, Namiashi," I repeat, trying to keep my tone even and soft. I'm the adult in this situation, the teacher, the person of power, this is my fault, not hers. Does she know that? I hope she does. "Tell your father to meet with me tomorrow as well. I would like to discuss my replacement as your Sensei."

"What? No," she babbles, her tears winning the inner battle and sliding down her cheeks. I bet they're as sweet as the rest of her.

My chest feels wallow because of the sight, because of what I've done and what I have to do. If I can't control myself, I can't be around her. It's the appropriate response in this situation. It's what's best for my Fawn. It's what's best for my marriage and for my son too. That doesn't mean it hurts any less, having to walk away from her. Knowing I just destroyed Namiashi-Chan's whole world, that I held her heart for less than five minutes before shattering it. Knowing I lost another one of my shogi partners.

"Go home."

———————————————————————

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———————————————————————

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

[13as07]

Master List #2

Keys:

• Romantic

• Smut

• Platonic

• Angst

• Idk What To Tag It As

• In The Works

[——] - Series Part Listed Elsewhere

——————————————————————

Multiple Characters:

• Object #1 (Akatsuki)

• Object #2 (Akatsuki)

• Object #3 (Akatsuki)

• [Part 4 Listed Under Nagato Uzumaki (Master List #1)]

• Object #5 (Akatsuki)

• Object #6 (Akatsuki)

• Object #7 (Akatsuki)

• Object #8 (Akatsuki)

• Object #9 (Akatsuki)

• Friends #1 (Rock Lee/Shikamaru Nara)

• [Part 2 Listed Under Shikamaru Nara (Master List #1)]

• Friends #3 (Rock Lee/Shikamaru Nara)

• [Part 1 & 2 Listed Under Shikaku Nara (Master List #1)]

• Sweet Girl #3 (Shikaku Nara & Inoichi Yamanaka)

• Sweet Girl #4 (Shikaku Nara & Inoichi Yamanaka)

• Weekend #1 (Shikamaru Nara & Neji Hyuga)

• Weekend #2 (Shikamaru Nara & Neji Hyuga)

• Lesson #1 (Jiraiya & Naruto Uzumaki)

• Lesson #2 (Jiraiya & Naruto Uzumaki)

• Lesson #3 (Jiraiya & Naruto Uzumaki)

• [Parts 1 - 3, 8, & 10 - 11 Listed Under Itachi Uchiha (Master List #1)]

• [Parts 4 - 6 Listed Under Fugaku Uchiha (Master List #1)]

• Birthright #7 (Itachi & Sasuke Uchiha)

• Birthright #9 (Uchiha Men)

——————————————————————

[13as07]

Friends #3

(Rock Lee & Shikamaru Nara)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Maxiuchiha22]

Requested by: Anonymous

Word Count: 3,699

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Love Triangle

Name Calling: Pretty Girl, Good Girl

Sprinkle of Toxic Power Play

Sexual Tension

Unspecified Praying

Mentions of Scratch Marks

Asuma and Neji aren't dead cause I said so :)

Also, forever a believer that the Nara men call their women "Pretty Girl"

———————————————————————

Shikamaru's eyebrows are pushed together, annoyance coating his expression. He's kneeled down, hands busy messing with the bands of my safety vest, making sure they're done right. As always, Choji is oblivious to his best friend's recent fascination with me but it doesn't slide past Ino, who's side eyeing the hell out of us.

Sensei is outside of the room, on the other side of the door having a hushed discussion with whatever Sensei is responsible for the squad we'll be working with on this mission. The mission isn't a difficult one, just high profile, but that comes with any mission dealing with the family of another village's Kage.

"Why don't you tighten any of your straps? It's a drag having to fix them for you. Do you know how unsafe that is?" Shika lectures, a grumbly sigh being huffed out after my lesson on safety.

     "Says the man who smokes a pack a day," I poke back, using the bad habit he's picked up from his father and Sensei alike. "That's not any safer."

     "I don't smoke a pack a day. Three or four max."

     "Per hour, maybe." Shikamaru's sharp eyes jump up to glare at me, slit and stressed and such a temptation to keep pushing his buttons.

     The no-sex rule we agreed on last week during our heavy conversation about us was a dumb idea, and one I'm currently regretting. Why I agreed to that term during the walk home from the drugstore is beyond me. Whatever my thoughts were conjuring up then is no match for how sexy Shika looks on his knees, hands on my hip, mixed with the rooted glare on his face.

He's his sexiest while strategizing. Calm face, determination in his features, and not a single detail escaping the watchfulness of the melted bronze that make up his irises. But, stressed Shika is a close second. A very close second.

Slowly, he climbs back to his full height, keeping the close quarters between us as he stands. A tad of humor burns the edges of his expression, an expression I get a close look at as he inches his face closer to mine.

"Pretty Girl." The nickname comes out chilled despite the heavy humidity between us. "You are being both a bad shinobi and a bad clan member. Good girls don't mock their squad leader or their future chief." The slight squeeze of my thighs doesn’t go unnoticed, noted by a tip of Shika's lips as he pulls away from me.

The harsh whispers between the two of us caught more of Ino's attention, her nose scrunched and eyes swimming in confusion as they flicker between the two of us. "What was that about?"

     "Somebody doesn't understand respect," he answers, sending me another pointed look. Shika settles against the wall, his body relaxed and counteracting the sharpness still present in his slit eyes. Even with our little heated moment, he's still focused on the mission. Definitely his father's son.

     "With a squad leader like you, you can't really expect us to know what respect is, can you?" Choji teases with a slight chuckle in his voice, his focus on us now that his rice ball has been finished off.

     "Shut up, Choji," Shika grumbles, his head rolling back, finally dragging his loaded stare off of me. I'm both glad not to be the center of his attention anymore and a bit unhappy with the torn-away heat of his stare, but I guess I shouldn't complain about the calm before the storm our mission is sure to bring.

     The storm that's here a lot sooner than I expected. Just as everything is evening out, the door comes crashing open, slamming against the wall as it swings. "Hello, Team Ten! Team Gai is here to assist!" Might Gai yells, his excitement about everything including life itself shattering the relaxed vibe of the room.

All the chill from Shikamaru's position is gone, his muscles tight, especially his shoulders and his eyes heated again, but not in the way they warm up when looking at me. No, in the way that makes me fear he's going to burn Gai into a pile of ash. "You have to be kidding."

"I am just as unpleased with the situation as you are," Neji's monotoned voice filters into the room, a one-eighty to the sunshine and rainbows his Sensei oozes.

"Speak for yourself, Neji. I'm thrilled to be working with Team Ten."

If Shika's eyes could burn Gai to ash, they're now unleashing a thousand paper bombs on Lee, his temper hot enough I half expect actual flames to fill the sockets of his eyes.

Lee is unfazed by the glare my... I don't know what Shikamaru is to me anymore.

Lee is unfazed by the glare my future Chief is sending him, a full smile on his face and full attention on me. "I look forward to spending time with you again, Lotus-Chan, even if it is work-related."

"She told you to stop calling her that," Shikamaru butts in before I can reply, his tone not giving away any of the anger burning through his veins.

Dear Lord, help us on this trip. Or, at the very least, don't let Shika come up with any crazy ways to 'accidentally' get Lee killed.

"Oh, right," Rock giggles, his nervous playing between the two words. "My apologies. Still, I look forward to working with you again, Nara-San."

"I'm glad," I utter, trying my best to plaster a smile on my face.

For the most part, I've gotten over my little fling with Lee, chalking it up to miscommunication of my feelings caused by my enjoyment of his attention and the lack of Shika's attention because of his recent time spent with Tamari.

     Now, with both the guys in the room, the only thing I can think about is running my fingers through Shikamaru's hair until he calms down. Lee isn't even a wisp in my thoughts.

     "Great," Sensei drags out, looking at Shika with a mix of 'What the hell?' and 'What’s going on?' written on his face. "Great, I'm so glad we're all so excited to work together," he softly cheers, a bit of a hiss poking out and aiming at our squad leader.

     "Me too!" Gai cheers, hooking an arm around Asuma's neck and yanking him down a bit. "This is going to be so fun!"

Dear Lord, please let me survive this mission, both physically and mentally.

———————————

Good note: Shika hasn't killed Lee yet. Bad note: the atmosphere is packed so full of his loathing that even Choji notices.

As I suspected, the mission isn't too difficult. The Tsuchikage's daughter seems to be at ease, too wrapped up in her one-sided flirting with Sensei to care much about her safety. Neji and Shika are on each other a bit, the two big brains pulling teeth to agree on anything. Aside from that, it's been a breeze. No attacks, no signs of enemies, and plenty of empty space to fill.

Gai is busy hounding Choji with failing attempts to get him to join his work-out regiment. Tenten and Ino are talking about her upcoming wedding with Sai. Shika and Neji are fighting again, debating where the next stop should be. That leaves Lee and me silent, the boy standing two people away from me without a lick of an attempt to hide his staring.

I keep my eyes forward, trying to focus on scanning the dark forest for any possible threats. It's better than stressing about Shika's constant fighting or Lee's constant attention on me. I can't ignore it for long though, the latter of the boys slowly weaving his way over to me.

"Hello, Lotus - er - Nara-San," he greets, his usual huge smile on his face. "How's this side of the carriage."

"About as eventful as your side," I answer, sparing him a tight worn smile.

Rock doesn't pick up on my silent command to leave me alone. Instead, he keeps up his loose posture and grinning expression. "I'm not too sure about that. It seems Neji and Shikamaru are about ready to brawl."

My eyes flicker forward, taking a peek at the two squad leaders. For once, Neji is actually expressing emotion. Anger, most definitely, but still an emotion. Shika on the other hand seems relatively calm, nothing but the spark of a new challenge in his eyes. I swear those two mix like water and oil.

"That would be a wonderful sight to see."

"Not as wonderful as seeing you," Lee answers, instantly making my nose turn up. There was a time I would have been thrilled to have him flirt back, but now all I can think about is how cheesy the line is and how Shikamaru would never waste his breath on something so overused.

Shika isn't much of a romantic, even less so when it comes to words, but he picked up his father's gift of speaking in ways that make poets jealous. There are reasons Shikaku is happily married and why his specific lineage is in charge of the Naras. Brains, bronze, and words able to affect others are those reasons. All reasons why his son is suitable to take over. All reasons why his son makes my heart and core burn in equal but different ways.

"But anyway," Rock starts up again, his attention tearing away from our squad leaders to focus on me again. "I really am happy to be working with you again. I know we haven't been..." his words cut off, a soft exhale and a shrink of his smile filling the gap. "I know a lot has happened between us recently and I respect your decision to take some space, but I do miss you. I miss talking to you and seeing you and getting to hang out."

     My mouth clicks open, the words for a response stuck in my throat. Just as I finally muster the different syllables onto my tongue, I'm cut off. "Ya? Would you miss my foot up your ass too? Or maybe you just miss the makeout sessions. Is that what it is? Do you miss having a Pretty Girl fill the void of Sakura's rejection?"

     All of a sudden, everything seems eerily quiet, like everything on and off the dirt path is watching the interaction unfolding.

"Hey, Shika," Lee greets, his voice weary and his eyes slowly peeling off of me.

"You don't get to call me that. She," Shikamaru motions towards me, eyes softening for a beat before they're back on his newest sworn enemy. "Gets to call me that. Hell, Ino and Cho could call me that if they wish. You don't." Before the older boy can answer, Shika's hand is around the arm loop of my vest, using it to tug me away for Lee.

After a step or two he freezes, slowly turning to look over his shoulder. "And another thing, for someone who says they 'respect her decision to take some space', you're not giving her any space. Learn to read body language and when the time is to back off," he hisses, pairing the lecture with another glare before continuing to yank me toward the front of the carriage.

Shikamaru finally lets me go once I'm situated in the front of the group, sandwiched between Neji and himself. The other squad leader flickers his eyes between the three of us, trying to read the situation before he comments on it. "Our teams may not get along, but I don't believe threatening those here to assist your mission is the smartest strategy you've had."

"I don't think poking at my anger is the smartest strategy you've had either so I guess we're even," Shika hisses, his glare now cemented on Neji instead of Lee.

Dear Lord, when I asked you not to let Shikamaru kill Lee, I didn't mean to let him kill Neji instead.

———————————

My eyes roll over Shikamaru, watching his reaction as he reads over the letter delivered to him a few minutes ago. His eyes are glued to the sheet, hands pressed into a triangle, and face scrunched in concentration. Slowly, I crawl across the length of my tent, settling on my knees behind him.

He's rooming with Choji and Ino was supposed to room with me, but she ended up switching and rooming with Tenten. I partly believe it's because she's catching wind of what's going on - which wasn't aided by the heated arguments earlier - but I also partly think it's because Tenten is more interested in the wedding details than I am.

With the change, Shikamaru had no shame sliding out of his tent and into mine to spend some time with me. Well, time that got interrupted by the letter from his father.

"If you keep thinking so hard you might blow a fuse," I lightly tease, sliding my hands up to start massaging his shoulders. They're littered with tension, giving me plenty of knots to rub out for him. "Why are you so stressed?"

     "You don't need to worry about it. I have it all under control," he mutters, his shoulders relaxing under my touch. "You don't need to carry my stress around too, Pretty Girl. You have enough on your plate because of Lee and me."

"Your dad is still my Chief, Shik. It's my job to serve him," I whisper, tipping my head forward to paint lazy kisses up his neck. "Even if I don't serve him in the ways I serve you."

The double meaning of the word doesn't get lost in translation, evident in the hissy breath Shikamaru lets out. "We have an agreement for a reason," he utters, his body loosening even more despite the fact the head on his shoulders is keeping control. "I don't want your emotions and thoughts getting confused even more. Especially with Lee's constant attention and attempts at buttering you up."

"Lee isn't the man in my tent though," I coo, slowly trailing my hands off his shoulders and across his back, adding pressure to the scratches that have started to heal.

"I am now!" A chirpy voice rings out, shattering the heavy atmosphere that was starting to form. Slowly, Shikamaru and I both turn to look at the opening of my tent, being met with a toothy Lee. "What are you two up to?"

Shika tenses under my touch, sucking in a deep breath before slowly exhaling it. "Clan matters," he answers for us, wanting to keep whatever we are between the two of us until the whole love triangle thing is squared away for good.

"Oh, is everything okay back home?"

"Ya, it's fine. Just a small issue," Shika grumbles, tipping his head backward to gently knock it into mine. "I'm going to go relieve Sensei. Call if you need me."

"I will," I murmur, resting my head against his until he pulls away. Shikamaru takes longer than needed to get up and leave the tent, but I'm not surprised. Lee seems to be the biggest and easiest thing to get him worked up recently.

"Hello," I greet once I'm sure Shika has walked away and that we're alone.

     "Hello," Rock echoes, taking slow and steady steps forward. Once he's no more than a step away, he sinks to the ground, sitting next to me on the floor of the tent. "So... Shikamaru is a little... protective of you."

     "He always has been," I murmur, snatching up the letter left behind. It's technically not a lie. Shika and I have always been close, attached at the hip most of our lives. He knows every inch of me inside and out. The thought mixed with memories of our less-than-appropriate times together makes my skin heat up with the reappearing craving for the Nara Prince.

     "Ya, that's true," Lee whispers, his voice seeming far away even though he's close enough that our knees touch. "Anyway," he chirps, head tipping toward me. "I want to apologize for earlier." I slowly blink as I stare at him, not sure what he thinks he needs to apologize for. "The fight and all," he explains before I can ask, a loose smile hanging on his face.

     "Oh."

     "I should have known you were going to tell Shikamaru and that he was going to be all jump-ity about me until things smooth out between the two of us. Especially after the whole scene at the store and all." Lee's shoulders jump up before falling back down again, a soft shrug to pair with his soft grin. "I'm sorry we got in another fight and that you had to be around for it again. I know how important he is to you."

     "It's not that big of a deal, Lee. Shika will chill out after he's certain I'm over it all."

"Are you over it all?" He asks, the happiness falling from his face and being replaced with the rare seriousness Lee possesses. "I hope you're not over everything."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, turning my attention away from the letter I've been roughly scanning, focusing my full attention on Lee. Like Shikamaru said, it's just a minor issue with the clan. Some way, shape, or form, someone misplaced a hundred pounds of venison and the Chief wanted to know if -

Before I know it, Lee's lips are pressed against mine, his hand gently cupping the side of my face. My body freezes, not a hundred percent sure what's going on, much less what to do about it. After a few beats, he inches away from me, still close enough that I can feel his soft breaths. The thumb pressed to my cheek rubs soft circles into my skin as his eyes roll over my face, waiting and watching for my reaction.

Dear Lord, it's me again. Are you actively trying to get Shik to murder Team Gai? If so, you're doing an amazing job.

———————————

     "He what?!" Shikamaru yells, pulling the attention of our whole mini campsite to us.

     "It's not that big of a deal," I whisper, eyes flickering around to see if everyone really is staring or if it just feels like that. Eight sets of eyes are on us; it's not the latter.

     I knew Shika wasn't going to take the events of last night well, but I didn't think he'd get this worked up either. He's oozing more hatred than he has the whole trip, everything from his eyebrows down to his chest are pulled tight with tension, dark eyes slit more than usual and seeping into my soul as he looks at me. “I’m going to kill him.”

“No!” I yelp, trying to spring forward fast enough to grab him. I’m not fast enough. Shikamaru’s breakfast is disregarded on the ground, the man standing up and already two steps closer to Lee before I manage to scramble onto my feet. “It really isn’t that big of a deal!” I repeat, racing after him.

My arms wrap around him when I come into contact with him, my feet dragging and digging into the ground to try and stop him or at least slow him down. Neither happens. Shikamaru keeps trudging forward, skin burning and mind twirling with different ways to hurt Lee.

“It is a big deal,” he hisses, eyes locked on the man of the hour. “You asked for space and what does he do? Try to make out with you. I’m giving you space, do you know why? Because it’s not that goddamn hard.”

Neji stands up from his spot next to his best friend, chest puffed out but his usual calmness still in place. “It is too early in the morning for your attitude problem, Shikamaru. Honestly, for the laziest man in our generation, you sure have enough energy for your anger.”

Shika stops for a second, a sharp grin carving onto his lips. “Sit down, Neji, this doesn’t concern you.”

Before the other squad leader can respond, Shik has already thrown up a hand sign, one of his shadows wrapping around Neji’s legs and yanking on him until he falls back into a sitting position. The shadow stays wrapped around the man as I’m dragged forward again, the angry cloud back to his main mission.

“Hello,” his voice comes out dangerously cool, like a sharp end of an icicle. Shikamaru grabs a hold of Lee, balling up his body suit to drag him into a stand.

“Shika, please,” I whisper, tightening my arms around his waist. “This whole jealousy thing isn’t cute. It’s fine, really. Can’t you just leave it be?”

“I’m not jealous,” he utters, his main focus still on Lee who’s trying to fight free from his grasp. It’s a task he’s failing, courtesy of more shadows helping Shikamaru hold him in place. “If you want to be with Lee, fine. As your friend and your future chief, I want you happy first and foremost. I would prefer it to be with me but if it’s not, fine. I won’t force you into my arms or walk away from our friendship if you don’t choose me.”

“What I won’t do is let Lee repeatedly ignore your boundaries. Constantly shoving himself into your life like a goddamn thorn does that. Forcing you into a kiss does that too. That’s not giving you space. That’s forcing you into a situation you don’t want to be in. So, no, I won’t leave it alone.” Shika’s jaw is tight enough that I’m worried it’s going to lock and his knuckles are so white from his grasp that I’m surprised they haven’t popped yet.

“Walk away, Pretty Girl. It’s my job to take care of you, remember? I’m always focused on you.”

I let out a slow and deep exhale, reluctantly unlatching from Shikamaru. Once he’s free, he wastes no time walking away, dragging Lee along with him. Our Senseis fill in my gap, both of the older men racing after him and yelling at him to stop.

Dear Lord, I’m here to ask you again, don’t let Shikamaru kill Lee. Though, I’m pretty sure he’s going too.

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

[13as07]

Your Majesty,

I hope you are doing okay! Excited for Jiriya + Naruto part 2! For some reason I reread it and it resonated with me 🤤. As always I reread kakuzu's fics and they are cathartic and so heavy.

Humbly I ask where all you post every work of yours? I remember A03 (and Tumblr ofc) however I beleive I saw a work of yours on another website (Birthright).

Forever a reader, ♥️

The Lesson series will be getting a part two (and three) in the future. At the moment I’m focusing on wrapping up some of my open ended series and adding to the series people have requested me to continue. Spoiler, my I Hate You series will be getting another part as well. I’m think about doing another Prequel part but we’ll see what I settle on.

All my stories are posted here (of course), Ao3, and Wattpad. Other than those three sites, I don’t post my stories anywhere else.

Thank you for always checking in on me and I hope to continue writing for you for a long time to come. <3

~ Your Author

[13as07]

I’m Not Clingy #2

(Itachi Uchiha Smut)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to minya1995]

Requested by: Anonymous

Word Count: 3,967

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Oral (Female Receiving)

Hair Pulling

Thigh Humping

Cock Warming

Somnophilia

Choking

Exhibitionism

Titty Play

Attempted Fingering

Involuntary Voyeurism

———————————————————————

     "Itachi?" Kisame yells, his voice throwing my soft whimpers and pants into the shadows. The only thing separating him from us is a closed closet door and maybe five steps further into the hallway.

"Love?" I slowly exhale, tugging on the strands of his hair I have caught in my fists. "You're going to be late." Itachi doesn't even glance up at me, his full focus on rolling the tip of his tongue over my clit as he softly sucks on it. "Baby, your mission?" I try again, attempting to peel him off of me.

His arms wrap tighter around my thighs, yanking them further apart to send his point home. "In a second," he grumbles, taking a deep inhale before twirling his tongue over me again.

My head tips backward, resting against the cooled wall of the utility closet. Wisps of trying to pull him off again slide through my mind, quickly drowned out by the slow climb of my next orgasm. "You're... you're going to be late," I manage to stumble out, trying to settle the roar of my lungs at work.

"So? Getting to taste you is more important," Itachi whispers, taking another quick breath break. "How else am I supposed to survive forty-eight hours without you?"

"Clingy much?" I tease, pressing my thighs against the sides of his face to enjoy the way his cheeks squish. I only let the moment last a beat before trying to tug him off of me again.

"I'm not clingy," Itachi huffs, snatching my wrist and trying to shake his hair loose from my fingers. "Besides, you're the only one getting to cum, shouldn't you be happy I'm going to be late?"

"Not when we live with terrorists, no."

He rolls his eyes, head burying against me again. I give in, partly because I'm too close to the edge to not be left frustrated if we stop and partly because I know Itachi won't stop. At least not with the pathetic excuse of being late for his mission debrief and departure.

My thighs tighten around his face again, this time involuntarily. The closer I get to finishing, the more they squeeze around him. He doesn't mind though, I know he doesn't. There's nothing Itachi favors more than falling to his knees to please me. Maybe it's not all bad having him be so clingy.

"Damn it, Itachi," I hiss, gripping his hair to yank on.

His eyes shoot up, rolling over my face. I take it back, Itachi favors watching my facial expression spiral with an orgasm more than he likes going down on me. The favoritism is emphasized when his eyes start to spin, his sharingans being flicked on for the simple reason of picking up every micro-movement he worked so hard to force out of me.

My teeth sink into my tongue as I stare down at him, the copper taste of my blood being the exchange for the whole hideout not hearing me fall apart on my lover's tongue. Itachi's eyes crinkle in the slightest, a hint of self-pride and contentment poking out around the design of his advanced sight.

"Beautiful," he mutters, finally inching away from my pussy, the word breezing over my exposure as he exhales it. "What a wonderful thing for me to hold on to while we're apart."

"Clingy," I utter, finally tearing my eyes away from him. Heat curls up my neck, quickly coating my cheeks as it continues to climb upward.

"I'm not clingy," Itachi repeats, jerking forward to bury himself in me. He doesn't stay buried for long, attaching himself long enough to thrust his tongue into me before pulling away again. "I simply wish to taste you before I leave and to be buried in you as soon as I get back."

"That's being clingy."

"No its - "

"Itachi!" Kisame's voice booms in the hallway again, anger bubbling in my lover's name a lot more than before.

     "I got to go," Itachi grumbles, the contentment washing off his face about as soon as it was present. He slowly climbs to his feet, pulling my clothing back up with him. "I'll be back in two days, no longer than forty-eight hours," he reminds me, fussing with the button of my pants. "Will you be alright?"

     "I'll be fine, though I'm sure you're going to struggle being away from me."

     "Always, Little Crow," he whispers, brushing his lips against mine. The kiss is light enough that it could be mistaken for a simple breeze. "I cannot help my withdrawals from you."

     "Cling-er," I mock, dragging out the word.

     Itachi lets out a deep sigh, covering my senses with the warmth of his breath and the slightly tanged scent of myself still coated on his taste buds. "I'm not clingy, Crow."

                     ————————————

     The pet crow Itachi gifted me so long ago is trying his hardest to wake me up. The bell around his neck mixes with the sound of his lullaby cawing. His beak is nuzzled in my hair, softly tugging on it as he stomps around on my chest. "Kiko," I grumble, trying to shoo the bird away.

"He's just excited his Master is home," Itachi's voice rolls over me, his hands quickly joining the sea of calmness in my chest. His fingers carefully toy with my hair, working it loose from Kiko's beak before he picks the bird off of me.

     I relax back into the bed, turning on my side as I wait for my lover to join the bed. Itachi's presence is obvious in the room, even though he's trying to stay silent. Despite his return, I stay curled up and close-eyed in the bed, almost falling back to sleep from the soft sounds of him.

     "Hello, Little Crow," he whispers, the bed dipping behind me as he crawls under the sheets.

     "Hey Love," I return the greeting as Itachi slides an arm over my waist, the other digging between the mattress and my body to do the same. A pleased sigh spills from my lips, the presence being the source of it. "You weren't supposed to be back until the morning."

     "I told you, no more than forty-eight hours," he whispers against my neck, his lips sliding against it just as much as his words. "Forty-seven hours, fifty-eight minutes, and thirty-four seconds."

     "If I didn't know any better I'd think you're a stalker."

     "I'm not a stalker," he grumbles, shifting under the sheets again. Itachi bullies my knees apart, situating his leg between mine.

     "No, you're just clingy."

     "I'm not clingy," he hisses, jerking his leg so it slides against my panties that are barely hidden by the hem of his shirt. The same one I wore to bed last night.

     "Sure you're not," I hiss out, using my tone to hide the moan trying to sneak out.

     "I'm not," he repeats, punctuating the disagreement with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to the valley stretching my neck into my shoulder. Itachi's leg keeps moving, rubbing slowly but steadily against me. "Why won't you let me hear those sweet sounds? I've missed them. Let me hear them, Crow."

     A long exhale is released from my lungs before I give in. The night-painted walls of our room are coated in my whimpers and soft ohs, giving Itachi what he wants. In return, he rewards every noise with another sloppy kiss, making my skin raw and coated in a thin layer of his salvia.

     "I'm tired, Little Crow," he whispers in my ear, the arm on top of me melting down my body. "We can finish in the morning," Itachi continues, his fingertips ghosting over my slowly dampening panties. His fingers hook around them, tugging them to the side.

"I thought we were finishing in the morning."

"We are," he mutters, tugging his leg free from the grasp between mine. "But like I said before my trip, I wish to be buried in you as soon as I get back." His sentence is cut off by the slow movement of his dick sliding into me, the time apart making the stretch greater than usual.

I never remember how active Itachi and I are until he's away on a mission. More specifically, when he comes back and I'm filled by him again. Still, it's one of my favorite things in the world, being filled and re-worn by him.

His arms tighten around me and his head buries into my neck to muffle a long, deep groan ping-ponging in his vocal cords. "I missed you my Little Crow."

"I missed you too, my Little Clinger."

"I'm just horny and tired," he whispers, nuzzling his nose against my skin. Itachi's muscles finally relax against mine, the whole of him melting into the whole of me. "I'm not clingy."

                     ————————————

I can feel Itachi's eyes on me, following every movement I make around the dining room. I filter around the different members, weaving between their voices as they discuss this week's missions, their results, and those to come in the next few days.

I'm barely paid any mind besides a few soft 'thank you's, most of which are given in the form of a grunt. I don't mind it; the services of cooking, cleaning, and serving breakfast, the barely there acknowledgment from the members, or the ignores of my presence as they ramble on about their doings in the world. It's peaceful in a way, pretending - actually being - just a nanny to all of them.

     Well, almost all of them. Once I'm within arms reach, Itachi's hand is resting on my hip, gripping it as he slowly pulls on me. I ignore him, focusing on topping Kisame's drink off. My mind is running through what I've already done and what still needs my attention, meals taking up my time and barely sparing any for the clingy bird.

     "Little Crow," Itachi hisses, maintaining the vicious clan killer persona the group expects from him. His movements are rough, ripping me away from his partner in crime - pun intended - to situate me between his legs.

     His free hand snakes up, tangling in my hair like it's a spider in a web. Once his hold is cemented, my head is snapped backward, a trickling pain already dripping across my neck. Pain that's slowly starting to waterfall down my spine from being curved too far into a bend. Despite the pain he's causing me, he still leaves my head resting on his shoulder for support.

     Itachi barely moves, exerting himself just enough to position his lips next to my ear. "Everyone but me has been served and you're still doting on the others. Sit the pitcher down, go fetch my plate, then slide your pretty self into my lap where you belong, understood?"

     Tingles twist around my spine, mixing with the pain as it slowly drips to my core. In private Itachi is sweet, soft, whiney, and downright clingy, but in public? In public he treats me as rough as the edges he shows the world. Lucky for me, occasionally that roughness dribbles into our sex life. It seems like that's the case today.

     "Understood," I peep out, pressing my thighs together as I try to focus on anything besides the fire licking at my core, besides the want to have Itachi licking at my core.

     I'm instantly released, my lover melting back into his nonchalant position. Bored eyes, a relaxed posture, and an arm propped up on his chair to hold his head up. He doesn't even spare me a glance as I scurry out of the room. Despite a lack of interest from Itachi, the incident caught the attention of a few men in the room, their lust-laced sights burning on my heels.

     Sexual-fueled adrenaline races through my veins as I set the pitcher on the counter, quickly trading it for the still steaming tray of rice, fish, and side dishes I made Itachi for breakfast. The dishes jingle as I make my way back into the dining room, my excitement from the incident and the fire twisting in my stomach making it difficult to stay steady.

     Itachi's attention is still barely on me, but he does spare me a side glance, the corner of his mouth deepening by an eighth because of my shaky hands. I carefully slide his breakfast tray in front of him, sparing a glance into his teacup. Instinctually, my hand wraps around the glass, ready to head back into the kitchen and fill it for him.

     His hand shoots forward, gripping my wrist and yanking my hand away from his drink. "Sit," Itachi hisses, his touch going soft when I release his cup. Our eyes stay locked on each other as I slowly slide into his lap, our chests close enough that if I breathed any deeper my breasts would rub against him. The thought is nice, almost nice enough to test him over.

     The look on my face must have given my thoughts away because before I know it, the slim and chilled feeling of Itachi's fingers are sliding across my throat like frostbite. His head tips up, eyes heated and hard as he stares up at me, an almost bored expression on his face to counter the urge in his eyes. "Little Crow."

     I can't help the shiver that races through my body and causes me to jerk forward, my chest successfully pressed against his now. His jaw clenches because of my movement, a heated sigh being forced out of his nose. Despite what it looks like, I know Itachi isn't mad. He's frustrated from the lack of attention he's received this morning, and possibly a bit sexually frustrated too.

     The hand not wrapped around my throat, gripping it tighter by the second, dances over my thigh. Fingertips toy with the hem of my dress, carefully pushing it further up so he has more skin to play with. "You are being inadequate," he husks out, his tone soft enough that I'm convinced Kisame didn't hear it.

     "I'm sorry," for not giving you the adequate amount of attention this morning, needy man. I leave off most of the sentence though, knowing I can't handle any more teasing from him today.

     Itachi softly hums, frozen fingers slowly circling their way down my inner thigh. His sight melts over me, a game of hot and cold being played by his fingertips and his eyes.

     When his eyes climb back up the curves of my body, I'm softly shushed, no actual sound coming out despite the actions being played out in front of me. Confusion costs my mind for a moment, quickly ran off by less oxygen being allowed into my lungs and Itachi's freezing touch tugging my panties to the side, just like he did last night.

     His eyes flicker down, pointing to the imprint of his hardened dick before most of his attention is pulled away from me again. Itachi easily slides back into the conversation, the only proof of his knowledge of me being his hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing hard enough that every breath has an underwire of a wheeze.

     Whines for his attention rest in my throat, unable to squeeze out because of the small gap I'm left to use to breathe. This is Itachi's payback for paying too much attention to his co-conspirators all morning. His way of reminding me he allows me to feel dominant in our relationship, but at the end of the day, he holds all the cards.

     My hands settle between us too, greedy but slowly pulling him out of his pants. This is hot, dangerous, stupid, but so fucking sexy. If Pain - or anyone for that matter - even had a flicker of a thought that we were disrespecting them in such a way, they wouldn't hesitate to kill us. Well... attempt to kill us. Despite all his flaws, I know Itachi would never put me in a position he couldn't keep me safe.

     My mouth snaps shut, jaw locked into place as I inch my way forward, teasing myself with the tip of Itachi's dick. I scream with my eyes for his attention, my hands gripping the hair on the nape of his neck once he's inched in far enough that he doesn't need my assistance to stay on track. My efforts are ignored, my lover is still focused on the conversation at the table.

     Tears prickle my eyes, partly from being ignored and partly from frustration. He's buried in me, his tip bullied as far in as possible. Even though I love being filled by Itachi, it's frustrating knowing that it's all I'm going to get. I'd give anything to rewind time and inch him into me again.

     Finally, my silent pleas are answered, even if the attention is minor. The thumb pressed to my neck slowly rubs back and forth across my skin, and the hand that was holding my panties to the side is back in my thigh, rubbing in time with the circles being traced into my neck. It's not a lot and definitely not enough. "Clinger," I hiss, keeping my voice soft. Despite my tone being gentle, my hands aren't, gripping his hair tighter before roughly yanking it.

     Itachi's eyes snap toward me, the fire from before ignited heater than ever. "I'm not clingy," he mutters back, matching the hiss of my words.

     "Says the man that couldn't wait another hour to use my - uh." My breathing is completely cut off. Outlines of Itachi's fingers promise to be left behind.

     "I," he starts, dragging out my slow suffocation. "Am." The fire constantly snuffed out by my breath quickly claws at my flesh, threatening to leave my throat raw. "Not." Fog fills my head, mixing with the tears in my eyes to muddy the sight of Itachi less than an inch away from me. "Clingy." He finally loosens his hold, oxygen being dragged into my lungs and washing down my throat like the first sip of water after trailing through a desert. "Understood?"

     "Understood."

                     ————————————

     "My Little Crow?" Itachi's voice softly filters into the yard, worn out by the distance between the back door and the clotheslines I'm standing in between. "Little Crow?" He calls again, his voice a bit louder and tinted in fear.

"Over here!" I call, the words coming out muffled and barely audible because of the clothespins I'm holding between my lips. Today is bedding wash day, meaning the sheets of the whole hideout needed cleaning and now need hanging. Sheets lull in the wind, flowing freely. The first line is full, the breeze and cloth mixing to wrap around me. It's a calming sight but makes it difficult to hand the cloth without getting it dirty again, even with both hands.

"Crow?" He yelps, the sound of his footsteps pounding against the ground following the repeated call for me.

A low sigh spills out as I pin the sheet to the line. Itachi is quick to worry with no automatic off switch once he's made up his mind about me being hurt or in the way of possible danger. How a muffled call-back and clothes-lining sheets set off alarm bells in his head is beyond me, but it's how my lover works.

"Crow?" He yaps again, jerking the bedding sheet out of the way.

Another sigh spills out, this one annoyed because of the sight of the sheet on the ground. "Thank you, 'Tachi, know I have to clean that sheet again."

"You're okay?" He asks, sharingans glowing as they snap around my frame, scanning for any signs of distress. "You're bruised," Itachi whispers, jerking forward to rub his fingers against my neck. "When did that happen? Who did that to you? Crow?"

"You. You happened, this morning, at breakfast."

"Oh," he whispers, his breath slowing down and the glow of his eyes slowly melting back to their natural color. "I didn't think we were apart long enough for bruises to set in. My apologies, Little Crow."

"You're fine, 'Tach. We've both been busy all morning, no biggie," I comfort him, adding a soft smile as extra support.

Itachi moves forward again, movements back to their usual elegant form instead of the panic jerks from a few moments ago. His arms wrap around me, staying out for barely a breath before balling up my dress. "I'm sorry about this morning," he whispers, gently pushing us to the side so the sheets cover the view of us from the building.

"Why? I thought it was hot as hell."

A small smile touches his lips, not reaching his eyes. Something about this morning is bothering him and if I had to guess, it's probably the bruises he left wrapped around my throat. "It won't be happening again. It was a lapse in judgment, irresponsible, rutted in my craving of you, in my withdrawal from my mission, as you like to call them." His ramble is chased by his hands yanking my dress up my body, inch by inch exposing more of my skin to the sun rays melting down to the Earth.

My chest slowly starts to pump faster, fueled by the lust not fully fulfilled after breakfast. "You make me irresponsible, Little Crow," he whispers, using one final smooth movement to pull my dress over my head.

The soft breeze rolls over my nipples left exposed from a lack of a bra, the chill instantly hardening them. The change doesn't go unnoticed by Itachi, his full attention on my breasts. Slowly, his fingertips slide over my hips and up my sides before trailing over to my tits.

Enjoyment pools in his eyes as he cups my boobs, gripping them in his hold. Itachi wastes no time, instantly fondling them. "I missed your chest. I haven't been able to enjoy them since getting back," he utters, leaning down to replace one of his hands with his mouth.

His eyes snap upward, watching my reaction to his tongue sliding over my nipple and the gentle tease of his teeth against my tit. My tongue slides out, pulling my bottom lip in and between my teeth. For a man insisting we were already reckless today, he doesn't seem to mind doing it again.

Itachi's newly freed hand trails back down its path, taking a detour over the band of my panties. Expert fingertips poke under the elastic, starting the groundwork for the foreplay he's going to gift me. As his fingers inch downward, he sucks in more of my tit, sucking on it now instead of just teasing my nipple.

As a fingertip slides through me, teasingly rimming my pussy, the silent space is filled with the pop of his mouth unlatching from my breast. "Little Crow - "

"Hey, Itachi?"

Fear and then anger flicker across my lover's face. His hands instantly jump to cling to my waist, jerking us around so he's between me and the voice, my body enveloped and covered by him as much as possible. Itachi's head is jerked away from me peering over his shoulder.

My hands grip his biceps as I lean forward to both cover myself and peak over his shoulder as well. An unmoving and unblinking Kisame stands behind Itachi, his hand still gripping the sheet he pulled up to look behind. "You're kidding, right?" He finally utters, his eyes strictly on his partner. "We get a break from the meeting and you couldn't survive that short time without your precious Crow Girl's titties."

"Breaks are our time. Pain doesn't care what we do with our time."

"World class clinger. Honestly Itachi. Fifteen minutes. You couldn't survive fifteen minutes without being attached to her tit. I don't know how she deals with you being clingy."

"I'm not clingy!"

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