GAARA loves when his partner tries to distract him during work..
(suggestive . sub gaara)
it was dusk over sunagakure. with a long exhale, GAARA cradled his head onto one of his hands, watching the sun set from the window in front of his desk. it was one of the boring days, just paperwork, paperwork, paperwork. he knew it was part of the job, and he would do anything for his village, but god, he missed you so much.
he sulked, looking back at the sunset—he knew he would be home late tonight. even though annoyed, he couldn’t help but admire the beauty of the glowing skyline, almost like a reminder of you.
“will that be all, lord kazekage?”
“yes, you may take your leave now. good night.” he replied, his brush still dripping with ink from the stack of his newly signed papers.
at least half of his job was just breaking his back at his boring desk signing random requests and records. it was most definitely his least favorite part, besides from not being able to see you. he wished he at least had some company—your company—to motivate him to finish quicker. he pouted, until he heard a soft knock on his door. he could recognize that knock from anywhere.
“my love?” he questioned, turning his chair around to see the surprise of who had entered his office. he hadn’t expected you to meet him there—you must’ve noticed he would be working late. his hands wide open, he cradled you into a deep embrace, like he hadn’t seen you in a thousand years. a smile crept up onto his face, a rare sight for someone other than you.
he held you close to his toned figure only, to his dismay, to see that there were still a few loose papers he needed to write up. he groaned, turning back to you.
“i just need to finish these last few papers, okay? i promise it won’t take long.” he reassured, not wanting to rip away from the embrace, guiding he and you over to his desk. still wanting to feel your touch, he picked up his brush, now dry, with his other hand grasping for yours. however, just as he was about to start writing,
“hm?—” he stuttered, looking up to see you, with a questionable smirk, climb onto him to get comfortable on his lap.
he froze.
“um—l-love…? you’re o-on top of me…” his breath hitched, heat racing straight to his pale face, turning bright red. he felt himself practically aflutter from your closeness.
your giggling wasn’t helping either. your hands instinctively went to his hair, softly stroking his burgundy locks. shuddering at your sudden boldness, he tried to continue writing, only to be met with your soft lips tracing down his neck.
“l-love—p-please-” he groaned, feeling you attack his weak points.
“mm—i’m—i’m almost done, okay?” you smirk, watching him fall apart into whines and low moans under you as he tried to continue writing. he always loved your company, but something about when your like this gets him going. something about you wanting him. him. he has not felt this from anyone before—it makes him feel the need to know more. more about how to please you, to satisfy your needs.
he softly groaned as he tried to steady his brush to dip it into the ink pot, only to be met with doing the thing you know will always get him,
you kissed his kanji.
it wasn’t even inherently sexual—but something about it made him feel whole inside. love. just as the kanji represents. that was the breaking point. noticing, you petted his hair gently, he could feel the room spin, it was all too much. he felt he could cry of happiness—he didn’t even notice he had knocked the ink pot over when he felt his lips on yours. how could he notice when your lips felt so soft against his?
“fffuck, i don’t even care anymore, i’ll just finish it tomorrow—i need you.” his unusual filthy mouth showing he was truly being suffocated by his want—no—need.
he rested his hand onto your waist, steadying you on his lap. feeling the warm sensation of your tongue entering his mouth, it always makes him hot with need—only to be interrupted with the wet sensation of ink on his hands.
“shit—” he says, finally noticing the ink pot that stained the back of your shirt. thankfully, there was only a little ink left, but he was already too hot and bothered. he needed to take you home. quick.
“fuck—it’s stained…guess we’ll have to go home and wash your c-clothes…and…and take them off…”
likes, follows and reblogs appreciated!
