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kishibe-kisser · 9 months

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Like the Romance Novels (Erwin Smith)

Tags: military Erwin Smith x afab reader, age gap (legal of course), forbidden love, arranged marriage, spying, cursing, teasing, hair brushing, fingering, soft sex, kissing

Word count: 8463

The sound of metal scraping slightly over porcelain had the tendency to make your ears ache. Not being able to help yourself but pull a face each time your little brother’s fork grazed the plate. It was your family’s finest China and normally, your mother would have said something about the sound and scolded him right there. This evening was different though, everyone had to be on their best behavior for the esteemed guest sitting at the head of the table opposite of your father.

The air in the room was tense, knowing that the man was going to be your father’s successor had left a sour taste in your father’s mouth. Despite the fact that age was catching up to him, he refused to admit that it was time to step down as acting Sergeant Major. Your family knew it and it was nearly fact that the man across from him knew it too.

“So Erwin, how long have you been in the service?” Your mother asked, tone sickly sweet as she spoke to the man. The table seemingly went on for miles before reaching him, decorated with candelabras, lace doilies and crystal glasses. You had taken the man in when he entered the house, his tall brooding frame, broad shoulders, handsome face and strong jaw. Though now you were noticing more as you waited on his answers, such as his thick eyebrows that framed his blue eyes and the gentle lines by his eyes, showcasing the few years of stress he had undoubtedly had. You didn’t realize you had been staring until his head turned, glancing at you before refocusing his attention to your mother and her question.

“21 years, ma’am. I’ve been in ever since I turned 18.” You hadn’t expect him to be so much older than you, it made you blush because of your prior thoughts about just how attractive he was. “21 years and already in line for the Sergeant Major position, impressive.” Your father grumbled and you could feel Erwin’s eyes on you once more. Truth be told, the man couldn’t have cared less about the formalities. He went to this dinner because it was what was expected of him. If he was to take over the role of Sergeant Major, he would have to earn the respect of the men that followed your father and to do that, he had to earn his respect.

His attitude changed once he entered the major’s home, meeting his wife and children. He couldn’t help but drink you in, a woman that looked like you, your dress framing your figure. When he shook your hand, he couldn’t help but notice how delicate and soft it was in his. Now, he couldn’t help but allow his eyes to drift over to you.

“Miss Y/N?” Erwin questioned and you looked up from your plate in surprise. It was rare that guests spared a second glance towards you, let alone addressed you head on. “How old are you, miss?” He added on and you felt your cheeks warm up once more. “I’m 23, sir.” You responded and watched a smile pull over his face. “23. Are you married?” He asked and before you could respond on the sore subject, your mother did. “She decided to go to school first, even though we urged her to settle down. Gave her plenty of choices between suitable husbands. We are now looking into suitable husbands for her again, given she’s settled down.” While it wasn’t a negative thing, your mother made it sound like it was with a certain venomous tone to her voice. Erwin nodded in understanding before smiling at you apologetically. It was clear it was a tender subject, despite that he couldn’t help but be relieved at the answer.

“Why do you ask? Know anyone?” Your father joked and Erwin let out a small chuckle. This confirmed it in his mind, that the age gap was too large that he wasn’t even considered. “No, mere curiosity. I find that you went to school first admirable Miss Y/N.” He redirected his attention to you, deciding that his words were best aimed your way. He could imagine the berating you experienced, being a woman in your position and making that decision. A smile graced your face, deeply appreciating the words as they weren’t ones that you received regularly.

“Your children seem very smart.” Erwin commented, watching as the Sergeant Major puffed away on his cigar. The study was slowly filling up with smoke, some escaping through the slightly ajar door. “They are. I worry about my daughter though. My son, he’s still young and finding his way but my daughter. She’s a headache.” He confessed through puffs as Erwin faked a smile. Looking towards the door opening, he caught glimpse of your dress as you walked past and he found that the fake smile turned into a real one.

It had been a particularly windy day, as Captain Smith watched a car pull up to the base. Training had been outside and he was set to oversee it all, uniform on in full as the men did their drills. The car however was out of the ordinary, he wasn’t informed of any guests arriving at the base that day and it seemed that he wasn’t the only curious one. The soldiers stopping their drills to stare just as their sergeant was.

A heeled foot and a little bit of bare leg peaked from the car before revealing a light blue dress patterned with flowers. Captain Smith felt his cheeks pull into a smile as you revealed yourself from the car. Dress and hair flowing freely in the wind as you straightened out your clothes. It wasn’t until he heard the murmurs from the soldiers that he snapped out of his daze. He knew the men didn’t see women quite as often, he didn’t expect the crude comments though. Shooting the men a glare before wandering over to the car with a wave.

“Miss Y/N.” A dominating voice said, grabbing your attention among the all the soldiers. Turning your head, the wind quickly blew your hair over your face and eyes and before you could do anything, gentle fingers moved the hairs behind your ears. “Miss Y/N.” Captain Smith said again, making a blush pull over your cheeks. He looked handsome at dinner, yet even more so in his uniform. It made him look so official and despite the fact that your father wore the same one, it left an entirely different impression being worn by Captain Smith.

“Were we expecting you?” He asked, a concerned expression pulling over his rugged features. “No, no, not at all. Father received a telegram at home and it seemed like an urgent matter. I simply came to deliver it.” You told him, trying to ignore the gawking stares of the other soldiers. They were making you slightly uncomfortable, finding it hard to concentrate on the man standing in front of you and the task at hand. Fidgeting with the telegram, you looked to the ground and to your heel covered feet. You couldn’t help but wonder if you were dressed funny or if you had over dressed, maybe you had a button undone, all while knitting your brows together.

“I can escort you to his office, if you like?” Captain Smith offered, extending his elbow to you. You gladly accepted it, not only to get away from the prying eyes but also to get closer to him. The captain had left an impression on you ever since dinner, his well built figure waltzing through your mind at the most random of times since that evening. When your family mentioned your disgraces to others, generally they tried to offer solutions as they fed into the opinion that your choices had indeed been shortcomings. Erwin or Captain Smith hadn’t done those things, speaking to you rather than about you. Not to mention, he considered you to be admirable and it made you feel warm.

“I would greatly appreciate it.” You responded, a small smile pulling at your lips before gently taking his arm. It was nearly painful how well your body molded to him, unbeknownst to each other that it made your heart pound in your chests. “If I may be so bold.” Captain Smith started and you found yourself holding your breath, looking at the side of his face as you walked. “You look absolutely beautiful today.” You had to look away, to the sky or to the buildings out in the distance in the hopes to calm the warmth of your cheeks.

Erwin found the action endearing, needing to stifle a chuckle at the sweet response. He wasn’t just saying it to get a response, he absolutely meant it. The man was convinced you would look good in a potato sack and it made him feel like a lovesick puppy despite being the age of an old dog.

“Thank you, Captain.” You managed to pull yourself together enough to say. He was so gentlemanly, opening the door for you and gently placing his hand on the small of your back to guide you inside. For such a large man in such a powerful position, he spoke to you with a sweet tone and touched you like you were made of porcelain. It made your thoughts wander more about him, like how his hands would feel cupping your cheeks or how his voice sounded in the early morning… after a long night. You glanced at him once more, taking a deep breath before shaking the thoughts away.

You both stopped in front of the office door and he took a breath before knocking on the door. “Sergeant Major.” His voice was more tense speaking to your father, the weight of the world suddenly sitting on his shoulders. You watched his jaw clench as you waited for an answer, wanting to reach up and run your finger over the harsh line or massage his tense looking shoulders. Such intense feelings for only having seen him twice.

“Come in.” Your father’s voice rang through the wooden door and Sergeant Smith held the door open for you once more. Hand lingering on the small of your back a little longer than before, causing you to train your focus on his eyes rather than the other two sets staring at you.

“Y/N, what a coincidence.” Your father remarked, snatching your attention away. Erwin couldn’t help but cock an eyebrow at the man sitting in front of the Sergeant Major. Jean Kirstein, a young and promising soldier from what Erwin knew. He was an objectively good looking man, with a stature that rivaled his own which was rare. The few times Erwin had spoken to him, he had left a good impression but now Erwin couldn’t help but hate the way he was staring at you. It left a sour taste in his mouth.

“We were just speaking about you.” You nodded in understanding before nodding politely towards the other soldier in front of you. “Y/N, this is Jean Kirstein.” You extended your hand to him and forced a smile as he took it. You knew what this was. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Father, a telegram was delivered to the house and it seemed urgent.” You told him, ignoring the true intentions of the man in front of you. Erwin had to stifle a laugh, he hadn’t quite expected to see you dismiss Jean like this and well, it made him more attracted to you than before.

Jean’s eyes trailed over your body, the way you leaned forward to pass of the telegram, the way you tucked a hair behind your ear and the way you crossed your arms over your chest. He had to stop himself from licking his lips, glancing to the scary dog behind you. Erwin.

He had seen the way he scanned over you and it disgusted him, jaw clenching coupled with a heavy scowl on his face as the younger man locked eyes with him. It brought Erwin great joy to see the man’s or boy’s rather, confidence diminish with a glare.

“Thank you for bringing this to me, was that all?” Your father asked and you nodded your head. “Jean, Y/n, you may both leave. I would appreciate if you could escort her back to the car.” Your father gently told Jean, shoot him a smile that could only be conceived as fake. “Gladly, sir.” Jean smiled, standing up and taking your hand gently. “Captain Smith, if you could stay for a moment.” Erwin had to bite back a frown, he wanted to walk you to your car too and make sure Jean stayed cordial. Though considering your father’s power to make people fear him, he was nearly sure Jean would be keeping his hands to himself.

“What do you think?” The Sergeant Major asked once the door fell shut again. “What do I think?” Erwin repeated, not entirely sure what the Sergeant Major was asking. “Well, you’ve met my daughter. You’ve heard how she is. Don’t you think Jean Kirstein is a good match for her?” The man froze, taking a deep breath before even trying to think of a response. “Kirstein has a good head on his shoulders, seems like he could make a good husband for someone, someday.” Erwin said and exchanged looks with the Sergeant Major. “I understand. I’ll put him on the backburner until after my vacation.” He nodded, returning to his paperwork.

“Before I dismiss you, my wife will kill me if I forget to ask. We are going to our house in the south, by an oceanside town for vacation. It’s small and quiet, it’ll probably be the last vacation as a family. Would you like to join us?”

You loved the vacation house, all the trees surrounding it, the lakes and streams only you knew about and the faint smell of the sea in the air. The town had old bookstores, markets and bakeries on every corner, cafes too. It was home to you, more home than any of the houses given to your family during your father’s deployment. One thing was always certain, the vacation house.

The bright sun made your dress look like it was glowing as you left the house, retrieving the last trunk you had brought with you. The white cotton fabric of your dress was simple but perfect for the great weather. A small gust of wind made the trees rustle and you looked up to the sky, taking a deep breath to inhale the subtle ocean scent. A rumbling engine disturbed your peace, tearing your eyes from the sky and to the path. The car rode down the driveway and pulled up next to your family’s car. You couldn’t help but stand and watch, not having expected any visitors.

“Erwin?” You spoke before realizing you had dropped his title, the shock of seeing him there knocking all the sense out of you. The man walked towards you, chuckling with his hands in his pockets. He lifted one and reached out to pinch your cheeks softly. “You’re lucky I’m on vacation, miss. Y/n.” He smiled and let your face go. Your cheeks were on fire and you found yourself looking past him towards the house. “Sorry, captain.” You apologized, only to feel his hand brush yours. “I was only joking, I’d prefer if you called me Erwin.” He looked different like this, lighter than other days. He was on vacation and looked the part with his white cotton shirt, tucked into tan slacks. His hair wasn’t slicked back for a change and you found your heart pounding in your chest simply by looking at him.

“Erwin.” You whispered to yourself, watching him walk into the house with his bags. You weren’t aware he would be joining your vacation, but you did have a deep fear your father would have invited that Kirstein man. You could see straight through your father’s intentions there and had no desire for it whatsoever.

Deciding not to linger on it all too much, you went on with your plans for the day. Going to one of your favorite spots around the house, the small secluded lake. Your family knew of it’s existence of course, they just didn’t quite enjoy it like you did. It had become your spot and in your spot, you cared very little about being proper.

On your hands and knees, you felt the water of the lake. Taking the moment to admire the way the sun reflected off of the ripples and smiling at it. It was nice and warm and you were absolutely ready for your first soak of the vacation. No one was around anyways, you didn’t look twice before undoing your dress. In nothing but your bra and underwear you waded in the lake, letting your body soak in the sun and the feeling of the nice water. You leaned down, splashing the water around slightly and laughing. This was pure joy for you, with no one around to tell you how to behave or any appearances to keep up.

Erwin knew he shouldn’t be watching you, not like this. He didn’t think you would be in this state when he saw you heading this direction. He simply wanted to explore a little. That’s exactly what he was doing, guilty eyes exploring the delicate white lace coating the intimate parts of your body, the golden cast the sun left on your skin and the pure joy on your face. The water came up to just above your knees and as you splashed it slightly, he watched the droplets on your thighs. Shaking his head, he tore away his stare. This was more wrong than simply finding you interesting and beautiful, he was now lusting over you.

His throat cleared, your head snapping in the direction of the sound. Erwin adjusted his pants before revealing himself to you, watching you scramble out of the water to cover yourself up with the dress. “You told me to call you Erwin, perhaps I should call you peeping Tom instead.” You held the dress over your body, looking at the man with heat rising in your chest and cheeks. “It appears so, I understand. But it wasn’t on purpose. Went to explore my home for the next weeks and stumbled across you. I’m very sorry.” He explained, bowing his head to you in regret. Your body relaxed, your response being more one of surprise rather than fear. Erwin never gave you a bad feeling, not once, not even now as you stood practically bare in front of him.

“Could you be sorry while looking the other way for a moment?” You asked, your tone softening as well. Erwin’s eyebrows raised in realization before laughing and turning around. “Of course.” His broad back faced you as you slipped back into your dress, doing up the buttons before sighing. “Okay, I’m decent again.” You said and watched as he slowly turned around again. You noticed a soft pink tint to his cheeks and found yourself trying not to laugh. You weren’t embarrassed but he certainly was.

“Are you perhaps blushing, Erwin?” You asked, leaning forward to get a little bit of a closer look at his face and to taunt a little. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone here, let alone you in this state…” He noticed your lack of embarrassment and admired it. “Though I assume you weren’t expecting other’s either.” He finished and you nodded, seating yourself in the soft grass. Erwin joined you, leaning back in the grass and propping himself up on his elbow next to you. “My family never comes out here. I don’t think they know I come out here. So yes I wasn’t expecting company to say the least.” You told him, wiggling your bare toes in the grass and looking out over the lake.

Erwin watched you, then turned his gaze to the lake as well. It must have been difficult having your family not accept the way want to live your life, for you to be a woman who wanted to study over marriage at your age. It also seemed like they didn’t approve of the way you carried yourself, which Erwin didn’t understand at all. He would be happy to know the daughter he raised was strong and smart.

The next few days, you hardly saw Erwin at all. He was always being whisked away by your parents to social events or business, despite this having been a vacation for you all. You knew this would happen though, vacations were never such.

“What are your plans today?” His voice was a welcome surprise in the morning as you poured orange juice. You were still in your silk robe, the first one awake in the house that morning as you made your breakfast. Turning around with your glass in hand, you looked at him and his disheveled hair and clothes. It was clear he had rolled over and put the first thing on he could find and you found yourself wondering in what state he normally slept.

“I’m going into to town a little later today. You?” You asked, watching him rub his face. He looked tired, not relaxed at all. “Suppose your parents will be dragging me around all day again.” He put his hands on his hips and looked at you with a raised brow. “If I promise to buy you breakfast, can you get ready in ten minutes and I’ll drive you into town?” His proposal made you laugh and put down your glass. “Is my family driving you that mad, Erwin?” You asked him, watching him throw his head back with a laugh. You took in his jaw line and the way his Adam apple bobbed, thinking about just how nice a day alone with him would be. “Would it be awful if I said yes?” He asked between chuckles. You looked like his angel that morning, every meeting and introduction he had been forced to go through making him want to go back to the base rather than stay. This was not the vacation he was hoping for and as bad as it made him feel, he was going to use you as an out that day.

“Not awful. Completely understandable.” You admitted and let out a sigh. “Breakfast on you, you say.” You fake pondered, taking in his amused expression. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes.” You smiled and he sighed in relief. “You’re an angel Y/N.” He said softly, taking your hand gently and patting it as a thank you. You could get used to him calling you that and you could get used to seeing him in the morning like this, you could also get used to his hand holding yours.

Another thing you could get used to was the way he looked driving. Window rolled down, arm resting on it as the wind blew through his hair. With one hand on the wheel, for the first time in the last few days he looked relaxed. You couldn’t help but stare at him and take him in. It felt like a date almost, the first one you had been on in a long time with a man you were actually interested in. But it wasn’t a date, it was entertaining your father’s colleague and you knew that. So you swallowed those feelings down, but decided admiring how attractive he was, was perfectly alright.

“Was this the place you mentioned earlier?” Erwin asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. You looked around to see the restaurant and nodded, waiting as he parked. He was a gentleman through and through, not helping with the feeling of it being a date as he opened the car door for you. Taking your hand in his again to help you out the car. “You’re being such a gentleman for someone who stole me away at seven in the morning.” You joked, feeling his hand on the small of your back as you entered the small restaurant. “It’s to make up for doing it for my own benefit. Besides, it’s not every day I get to take a beautiful young lady to breakfast.” Erwin laid his hand flatter against your body, his touches getting more familiar the more he got to know you.

Breakfast lasted longer than anticipated, speaking for a few hours about everything and anything. He liked learning about your family and about the history of the vacation house. He liked learning about you and the reasons you went to college and the reasons you studied what you did. Erwin was finding that he was absolutely taken by you and the more he got to know you, the more he wanted to steal you away to be his.

He told you about himself too, the dangerous missions he had been placed on and the most beautiful places he had been. You liked hearing about his life, his experiences. While you never had the desire to do a job quite as dangerous as him and your father, you did always admire the experiences that came with it. The travelling and meeting people, it made you envious of it all. You liked hearing him speak, watching his eyes as they went through the emotions of talking about his life. You found yourself daydreaming about what it would be like in a more intimate setting, your arms wrapped around him, laying in bed as you comforted him after a long day. It was something no man had ever made you yearn for, no man before him.

“I’ve never quite seen this many books.” He commented, entering the small bookstore you had loved since you were a girl. “Ah, you haven’t seen my room then.” You smiled and continued further into the store. This day was no longer about him getting away from your family, this was about him getting to know you more, even though he knew he couldn’t have you. “If it’s anything as full as this I might not want to.” He joked and you smacked his arm lightly before taking notice of a book with a colorful binding.

“I’ve always loved stories like this.” You remarked, running your fingers over the spine as you read the title. Erwin had never heard of it, not quite having the time to read much with his job. He picked up the book, flipping through the pages and finding himself smiling. “This is a romance book.” He commented, reading through a particularly sweet passage. “Don’t get me wrong, Erwin. I like the intellectual read. However nothing is quite better than a sweet romance book.” You explained, watching him flip through the pages. Erwin looked like he had walked right out of a romance novel, one of your own imagination.

“Suppose I can understand why…” He started and you leaned back against a book shelf. Erwin turned to you, placing an arm on either side of you, the book still in one of his hands. His face was close proximity to yours as he read your expressions, your big eyes staring up at him. “I would be the romantic too if my family kept trying to sell me off to the first suitable man they saw.” His remark made your cheeks get warm. It was an embarrassing situation, one he had undoubtedly heard more about from your father. “Yes, but apparently my personality makes me unsuitable.” Erwin laughed at your words and dropped his arms for you both to continue browsing. “I must argue that I disagree. If anything you’re quite refreshing.” He admitted and you looked at him with a grateful expression.

“I would have asked to marry the evening we met if it seemed like I had a chance.” Erwin thought to himself, watching you browse the books. He found himself picturing the future, days like these with you, holding your hands and spoiling you with books. He could imagine you dressing up beautifully, attending galas with him as he showed you off to the entire room. He even could see your shared home in his mind, maybe even kids. God, he wanted it so bad, he wanted you so bad.

“Erwin, you disappeared today.” Your mother said as dinner was served. “Ah yes, I had some plans in town.” Erwin lied and you found yourself looking to the ground and smiling. It was fun that only you and him knew the truth. “Ah I see. It’s quite alright, I was busy making the starting arrangements for Y/N’s engagement.” Your father said and your eyes shot open in disbelief.

The pure anger you felt in your stomach made you cough and your head dizzy, but what made it worse was knowing you couldn’t do anything about it. “With who?” Your tone was laced anger, anyone could tell and well it was to be expected. “Jean Kirstein.” You knew it, the second the name was said and you fell silent. You knew it. Tears welled up in your eyes and you found yourself looking away from everyone again. Acting out wouldn’t be beneficial, you’d be labelled as dramatic. Crying wouldn’t help either, so you simply bit your lip and pushed all the emotions down.

Erwin felt himself get upset, seeing your face and response. He wasn’t entirely sure what came over himself as he exhaled, going back on all the things he had told himself since he had met you.

“It’s clear that is not what Y/N wants.” Erwin spoke and your father looked at him with furrowed brows. “I know family matters are not my place. But I’m here and I’ve gotten to know her.” He added on and your father opened his mouth to speak. You were still looking away, knowing no objections Erwin would say in your honor could possibly save you from this.

“I would like to marry your daughter.” The room went silent enough that you could hear a pin drop. Your ears were ringing, making it nearly impossible to believe that what he was saying was actually being said. Erwin had been in battles, on the brink of death, in meetings with important officials however, those things didn’t even come close to making his heart pound like this. “I want to marry your daughter. If she’d have me.” He said again, taking note that not even you had responded. He was speaking to your parents, but his eyes were trained on you with each word.

“I have to say Erwin, I’m shocked.” Your mother started and you pushed out of your chair, redirecting the attention to you. Your head hurt, aching with the pain of not having a choice. You also felt a wave of anger or distaste towards Erwin, he made it seem like he understood your pain that morning in the bookstore. Only for him to make this choice without talking to you about it. “I believe I’m going to go to bed.” You said, not responding to anything that was just said. You could hear protests from behind you as you walked away, but it all didn’t matter. Tomorrow you could think rationally, you hoped.

He felt guilty watching you walk away. This wasn’t something he should have done without asking you and he knew that. His gut told him it was the right thing, the signals you gave him, the way you looked at him. He felt foolish for thinking this was something you wanted. It was safe to say that dinner was ruined from that point on.

Walking past your bedroom door, Erwin took notice that it was left open a little and light spilled out of the crack. It wasn’t late at all and you were without a doubt in his mind mulling everything over, he liked to think he knew you well enough for that. He looked inside the room, seeing you in a nightgown sat in front of your vanity, reaching for your hairbrush. He could hear your sniffles and it made an ache settle in his chest. This wasn’t his intention.

“May I come in?” He mustered the courage to ask all while knocking you out of your thoughts. “I suppose.” You responded, toying with the bristles on your hairbrush as you watched him through your mirror. Tears still stained your cheeks and your eyes were slightly red. Your night gown was slightly revealing however Erwin had seen you with less on than that so you ignored it. You were upset with him and that was making it difficult to look at him, even through the mirror.

“I have to apologize to you.” He started, standing a few feet behind you. His blue eyes taking in the way you tried to focus on something else by brushing your hair. “It was impulsive of me to say that during dinner. Though I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t crossed my mind.” You paused your movements for a moment while listening to him. It wasn’t that marrying him hadn’t crossed your mind multiple times while looking at him or speaking with him. He was a great and attractive man and the thought sounded nice. It just angered you that he didn’t even speak with you about this, it made you feel like an object and that’s how you had felt nearly your whole life. You continued brushing your hair trying to work through your own thoughts.

“Can I do that?” Erwin asked, gesturing to your hairbrush. You shrugged and extended the brush to him, waiting as he grabbed a chair to sit behind you. The close proximity behind you made goosebumps coat your skin. “Are you angry with me?” He asked, voice lowering now that he was closer to you. You locked eyes with him through the mirror as he started gently brushing through your hair. “Angry not quite. Upset at the situation, yes.” You admitted and he nodded in understanding. “I understand.”

He continued brushing your hair, trying to do his best to not pull at any knots and be gentle with you. He had never done this before, brushed someone else’s hair but he was adding it to the list of many firsts he wanted to have with you.

“I want these choices to be my own.” You looked down, tears starting to form again. While you were upset, you couldn’t keep it from him. “Hey, hey, look at me.” Erwin used his free hand to move your chin, helping you look at him. His thumb swiped away the tears, taking note of how your eyes were avoiding looking into to his dead on. “You should have talked to me about this first. I thought you were different from the others.” You half mumbled, thinking about your past. “It wasn’t my intention to upset you. I simply believe I misread the signs that I was someone you are interested in.” He said and finally, you looked at him. God you were even beautiful when you cried, it was simply unfair. “You didn’t misread the signs.” You pulled your face from his and turned your back to him once more. “I’d be lying if I said I haven’t had the thought.” You admitted and watched as a small smile pulled at his lips, all while he continued brushing your hair.

“Thought about it, huh? What did you think about?” He asked, a slight mischievous tone in his voice. You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. You debated going into detail about how much his voice effected you, or the way he respected your choices practically made you go weak in the knees, when you noticed in the mirror how broad his shoulders were behind you and how he had practically caged you in between his long legs. The goosebumps on your skin seemingly got worse as his hand brushed your practically bare shoulder to move your hair.

“Well?” He asked, accidentally tugging your hair with the brush harshly. You gasped at the sudden feeling, leaning back into his chest and grabbing one of his thighs in response. His free hand grabbed your waist to support you, all the touching making a thick layer of tension fill the room. “I’m sorry, I’ve never done this before.” He chuckled as you looked back at him, his hand still holding you. Your faces were now significantly closer than before and he took note of the tension. The thin strap of your nightgown slipped down your shoulder, drawing his eyes as he reached around you to put the brush down on the vanity. “However, you still didn’t answer me.” He brushed some of your hair from your face, using the back of his hands to feel how warm your cheeks were.

“I’m well aware, that you can take care of yourself. But I want to help.” His hand now held your chin, making sure you couldn’t look away. He wanted you to hear what he was saying, he wanted you to feel it. “Will you let me?” He asked and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, your hand gripping his thigh a little harder. “Yes.” Your voice was barely a whisper, not being able to make it any louder.

You shut your eyes and Erwin tilted your chin upwards, softly kissing your lips. It was so gentle, such a ginger touch for such a strong man, leaving you breathless. “Thank you.” He mumbled against your lips, pulling away so you could catch your breath only to kiss you even harder afterwards. You absolutely melted, feeling his teeth graze over your lips as his hand kept your face steady. God, he tasted like a dream. The way his tongue melded against yours making your nails dig into his thigh, you moaned against his lips.

His hand turned your face to look in the mirror, his hand still holding your chin as he looked at you through the glass. “Look at how beautiful you are.” Erwin said, though it seemed more like he was speaking to himself as he kissed the side of your face, trailing his lips down your jaw to your neck. “Such a strong and beautifully intelligent woman.” He added on and the hand on your waist tugging the bottom of your nightgown up. His words were making your chest ache and heat pool in between your legs. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your puffy lips and eyes from all the emotions yet you still felt beautiful, he helped you feel beautiful.

The skin of your thighs was slowly revealed to him, his hands both moving to feel the soft exposed skin. You relaxed in his touch, eyes meeting through the mirror as you let him slowly undress you further. His fingertips grazing the edge of your panties causing a small whimper to leave your lips. He chuckled slightly, enjoying your reactions to his small touches before tugging the fabric up more. Your panties were fully exposed and you could see your midriff in the mirror. Goosebumps coated your skin and you squeezed his thigh again. “Don’t tease me. Please.” You told him, begged him even. “I need you.” You added on and watched as he lifted the fabric even more, exposing your bare breasts to the mirror before pulling the nightgown off of you fully.

It took him no two seconds to cup your breasts in his large hands, feeling you arch against chest. Your skin was so soft under his touch and every little sound you made was music to his ears. “Oh-“ You whimpered, his fingers pinching at your nipples gently and watching every facial expression that graced your features. “I like teasing you. Your facial expressions are worth every second of my time.” He said and kissed your neck once more. “So I’m going to keep going-“ He started, biting you lightly but not hard enough to leave a mark. “Until I think you’re ready for the rest of me.” His words made your stomach do flips, you wanted all of him.

One of his hands spread your legs before sliding under the band of your panties, middle finger slowly drawing circles over your clit. He was now only watching your face, feeling how wet you were all for him as he spread your slick around. Erwin could feel that he was straining in his pants, it had been so long since someone had this affect on him. This was sensitive, you were sensitive in mind and body and he wanted to take his time with both. Slowly stretching you out on his finger, curling in you slowly until you were ready enough for another. His other hand moved from your breasts to your hand, threaded his fingers with yours as you moaned out.

He added another finger, curling them quicker in you and leaving you gasping. You turned your head to his, no longer caring about the sight of yourself in the mirror. He could feel you tightening around his fingers, walls squeezing them as you sounds got louder. Your lips were centimeters from his, silently begging for a kiss and he couldn’t help but comply. Kissing you deeply, taking in your taste as your hand squeezed his. You moaned against his mouth, nearly biting his lip as you came and his fingers continued pumping into you.

“Erwin-“ You mumbled against his lips, trying your hardest not to squirm too much as tears brimmed your eyes. He was overstimulating you, smiling against your lips as you said his name again. “It’s too much.” You whispered, voice already hoarse and he wasn’t anywhere near done with you. He pulled his fingers out of you and you grabbed his hand, raising the digits to your lips to clean them off. He let out a chuckle in surprise at how bold the action was, feeling your tongue swirling around his fingers before he pulled away. Now was when his self discipline started to wear thin.

It took him no 2 seconds to pick you up, princess style in his arms and walk you over to your bed. He placed you down like you were made of glass, looking down at you and your body. He slowly undid the buttons of his shirt before pushing it off of his shoulders and onto the ground, revealing his broad, muscular chest. You sat up on your elbows, watching him, taking every second of him in the same way he did for you. You watched as his fingers nimbly moved, working to take off his belt and undo his slacks to push them down his toned thighs.

“You’re beautiful.” You said softly, meaning the words. Erwin looked at you once more, with a cocked eyebrow before crawling over you. His body was so warm, his large arms encasing you with something you couldn’t describe as anything else other protection. “Don’t think I’ve ever been called that before.” He said softly, tilting your face up to kiss him again. He absolutely couldn’t get enough of you, spreading your legs to wrap around his waist. “Not even when I was young.” He added on and you shook your head with smile. As you opened your mouth to speak again, you could feel his cock heavy against your entrance and you found yourself swallowing thickly.

You hugged his shoulders, pressing your forehead into his as he slowly pushed into you. He knew he had to pace himself, not wanting to hurt you in any way shape or form. He furrowed his brows, shutting his eyes as he slowly slid into you and giving your walls a moment to stretch. He felt you shift under him, your legs trying to close at the pressure of him between them. “Oh-“ You whined, the stretch taking your breath away as your body tried to accommodate him.

Erwin opened his eyes again, wanting to see your face and not being disappointed in the slightest at your expression. “Look at me.” He demanded in the softest tone, his hands now moving to pin your legs to your chest. The change in position made it feel like his cock sat in your stomach and you opened your eyes with a loud moan. “Erwin, I need you to do something, anything, please!” You cried out, your body moving and trying to create more friction. Any pain you had felt before had subsided and now it felt like a cruel joke that he wasn’t moving.

“Shh, shh.” He cooed, hand stroking your face as he tried his best to pace himself. Your begging and tight pussy were making it incredibly hard, together with your soft skin against his, Erwin was properly overstimulated. He slowly thrust his hips, not moving much before gently picking up the pace. Your sighs and moans getting more and more frequent with each roll of his hips. He held your legs with one arm while the other supported his weight by your head, not wanting to crush you in the middle of it all.

“Feels so good.” Your voice shook, his cock brushing every part in you that made your toes curl. It felt so good you could hardly make a noise anymore, mouth agape with nothing coming out. “Look at how good you are, letting me take care of you.” He grumbled, the compliment making your brain even more foggy. You looked down, in between your spread legs and where you two connected. The sight of his cock disappearing inside of you making your walls squeeze him, it had you nearly hypnotized. His pace nearly faltered, seeing you look down at your pussy, watching the way he spread you apart and the way your juices coated him.

“Oh god!” You cried out, orgasm suddenly hitting you like a ton of bricks. Erwin could feel you fluttering around him, still watching the way he fucked you despite your eyes wanting to roll back. Your nails gripped your bedsheets and your legs shook on his shoulders, but his pace didn’t falter. He needed relief himself, seeing and feeling you cum around being almost enough to get him there. Moving your legs once more around his waist, he pressed his chest to yours and fucked you harder. He knew it was a lot for you, watching the way your mouth fell open as you tried to keep eye contact with him. “I know, it’s a lot.” He huffed, deep grunts falling from his lips in between words. He suddenly pulled out of you, making you whimper as you watched his large hand wrap around his cock. Pumping it to the same pace as he had fucked you, he moaned your name as he shot his release over your stomach. His head hung slightly as he lazily pumped his cock, making sure all the tension left his body as he shuddered.

Your stomach was doing flips, missing the feeling of him inside of you and wanting the feeling of him cumming in you even more. Sitting up slightly, you held his face to pull him towards you and giving him a kiss. “Next time do that inside of me.” You told him softly, watching him look at you with an amazed expression. “As much as I would love to see you pregnant with my kids, think it would be wise if we paced ourselves.” His words made your stomach do flips, the thought of your future. The thought of a future being married suddenly didn’t seem so bleak.

When you fell asleep in his arms, Erwin found himself staring at your ceiling. Self indulging in fantasizing about your future as he listened to your breathing. Stroking your bare back as you slept he felt a wave of worry wash over him. He didn’t want to get your hopes up, especially now that you had talked, so he decided it was best to keep the argument he had with your father to himself. He would fix it, he would take care of you.

The warmth in your bed was gone in the morning, making it incredibly difficult for you to get up. Images replaying in your head of the night before, you could feel his tender touches over your skin like a ghost. Even as you washed them away they lingered and as you wandered down the stairs you found your cheeks warm.

“You’re up early.” You remarked, looking at Erwin standing at the window with his cup of coffee in hand. The radio was on quietly, static interfering with the signal slightly as you tucked yourself under his arm. He welcomed your embrace warmly, squeezing you tighter to him as he sipped his coffee. Mornings like this could be something he got used to, even if you reached to take his coffee for a sip. “I had a lot of things to think about.” He told you in return, watching you hold his mug. His fingers played with the fabric of your dress and you hummed along to the tune playing. Moving his hand up your back in the same way he did the night before and sending shivers over your body.

Your father watched from down the hall, your mother not far behind as they came down for breakfast. They would have been lying if they said the sight didn’t make them angry, the argument from the night before still fresh on their minds. The thought of the man they had brought into their home thinking of their daughter in a romantic way making them uneasy. Not to mention the age difference that left them raising questions.

Erwin took your hand after taking the mug from you, making you twirl to the music before bringing you back to his chest. Smiling at the way you looked at him in surprise. “Old dog learning new tricks?” You asked as he swayed you both to the music. “Starting with these jokes now are we?” He asked, hands tickling you slightly as you laughed. “Couldn’t help myself.” You admitted before standing on your toes to give him a kiss.

Your parents often thought you delusional, the studying and reading stories about romance. However even your father could admit that he hadn’t ever seen you this happy, as jarring as it all was. He knew he was hard on you, it was his duty to you as his first born to drive you to be the best you could be. Until that moment, he thought he knew what best for you was. He turned to your mother, looking at his wife before taking a deep breath. “Maybe we were wrong.” Big words coming from a man like him. “Dear, I think you might be right.”

A/N; This is my baby and I'm really proud of it so yuh

also @chicken-fifi thank you for asking to be tagged! I appreciate it

#attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan smut #erwin smith #erwin smith smut #erwin smith x reader

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darkdevasofdestruction · 2 months

Note

Idk if you still do Ichi the Killer requests but 😭 if you do movie Kakihara x injured reader? Ichi gets to reader and injures them if that makes sense? I like angst and I love your writing ! Keep up the amazing work!

I've gotchu sis <3

The city streets were dimly lit, the neon signs casting a sickly glow over the alleys. It was a night like any other in the depraved city where the law was Yakuza, where shadows hid unspeakable deeds. Kakihara Masao, the S&M freak of the Anjo gang, had been out dealing with a rival gang, as per usual. Few things could get a kick out of him, and finding new ways to torture traitors to death was one of them.

As he returned to his new home - The traditional villa which belonged to his wife, the daughter of their ally gang's boss, he felt a nagging unease. Something was off, but he couldn't tell why.

Ever since he left the house that day, with a departing kiss as was the daily routine, he had a gnawing feeling eating away at his brain, sinking his heart with worry.

He cared little what happened to him, or to anyone else - The only thing that mattered in his life anymore was to keep his beloved angel happy - And very much alive. She was a fantastic businesswoman, and the gang's designated medic, owning a whole chains of successful private hospitals - Which only put a huge target on her head. How could she sleep at night so peacefully Kakihara could never understand.

Was it her unshakeable trust in him, the husband her father wanted so desperately to tie to her? Her childhood crush, her teenage craze, her adult soulmate? Or was it the numerous bodyguards patrolling the house perimeter in a 200m radius in all directions at any given moment?

This girl was more guarded than the Emperor or the president, and yet...

Pushing the door open, he was greeted by an eerie silence, not by his wife's dolcetto voice, her warm embrace and sweet kiss. His heart pounded in his chest as he called out for his angel, but there was no response. The house was dark, and a sense of dread washed over him. He flicked on the lights and froze. The scene before him was a nightmare he's had many times before. The result of his failure.

Y/N lay on the floor, blood pooling around her. Her body was covered in slashes, the unmistakable work of that psychopath bastard, Ichi. Tears of pain stained her porcelain cheeks and her face was twisted in a petrified expression. Even unconscious, she was terrified and in pain.

Y/N hated pain. She was as vanilla as could be; Masao could never understand her; How she'd cry from the littlest amount of pain, when his euphoria came from a place of excruciating agony. A princess, she was an angel, of course she'd be delicate like a fragile little snowdrop, whilst he's a demon, a vulgar devil, corrupting and tainting the Heavens around her.

Kakihara's mind raced as he rushed to her side, dropping to his knees. She was still alive, but barely. Her breathing was shallow, and her eyes fluttered open when she felt his presence.

"Masa..." she whispered, her voice weak and trembling. "Ichi is looking for you."

He gently cradled her in his arms, his usually apathetic scarred visage contorted with guilt and rage. "Stay with me, angel. I’ve gotchu. Just hold on."

Kakihara wasted no time, carefully lifting her in his arms, bridal style just like he loved - Just like on their wedding - Yet now, she looked like a broken doll; His heart was breaking at the sight of her injuries. Once outside of the house, he yelled at the useless bodyguards who allowed this mess to happen - None of them saw or even heard anything. That bastard was too good.

Ironically, they drove to her own hospital which was nearby, though the road felt eternal and every second that ticked by was filled with the fear that he might lose her.

The doctors quickly took her in for emergency surgery, and Kakihara was staring after her as she was swiftly rolled on the bed, to the sterilised room; His mind was a storm of fury and worry. He couldn't stay there, not while Ichi was still out there. His blood boiled with wrath, a primal need for vengeance driving him.

"Princess L/N is in critical condition, but she will make a full recovery." the head doctor informed Kakihara. "She will need to take it easy and rest at home - No effort whatsoever - And for a while, some assistance." the old man continued; He looked left and right, then spoke in a hushed tone. "Was it that son of a bitch, Ichi?" Masao grunted affirmatively.

"Not for long." he sneered under his breath. "I'll be back." his voice was cold and steely.

With that, he left on his hunt to rip that fuckass apart, his mind singularly focused on one thing: finding Ichi and making him pay for every little scratch on her skin, for every second of agony, and for every nightmare she'll have from then on.

He reached out to his contacts, scoured the streets, and left no stone unturned. The hunt was relentless, driven by his love and desire to protect the only sun ray in his bleak, dark world, the burning hatred for the man who had hurt her. No living being was allowed to approach her with any mal intent, let alone actually commit such a vicious act against an angel. That fucker will rot.

He hadn't slept, hadn't eaten, hadn't drunk until he found him, but finally after so long, in the dead of night, Kakihara cornered Ichi in a dilapidated warehouse. The killer stood there, his face twisted in a sickening grin, clearly enjoying the chaos he had caused - Yet at the same time, his visage was twisted in a troubled look; This bitch was fucked in the head, he was out of his mind. His brain wasn't wired properly, even by Masao's standards.

Kakihara wasted no time. "You little fuckass!" he roared, his voice echoing through the empty space. "You dared to touch her! My angel! You took the one reason I had to stay alive!"

Ichi barely had time to react before Kakihara launched himself at him. The fight was brutal, both men driven by their own wicked desires and madness. Masao's rage gave him an edge. He didn't hold back, inflicting as much pain as he could, relishing in every scream that tore from Ichi's throat. That bastard couldn't even raise that sickle leg of his to slice him off - What a pussy ass cunt. He dared mess with his angel, without thinking of the hell he will receive back.

Ichi was easily subdued, bloodied and broken. Kakihara stood over him, his eyes wild with fury. "Look into my eyes and despair, you fucking freak." he snarled, before delivering the final blow. The life drained from Ichi's eyes, and Kakihara felt a grim satisfaction wash over him. "I love overkill."

He stood there, watching all the blood drain from his pathetic body, kicking it every once in a whole, hoping to vent out his remaining rage before he appeared before his sweet girl. There was only one place he needed to be, and that was by his angel's side.

Covered in blood, he returned to the hospital - Thankfully, one of her bodyguards had a spare shit for him to change in; He couldn't possibly embrace an angel while he was painted red with her assailant's filthy blood.

The doctors informed him that Y/N was awake and stable, but still exhausted. He entered her room quietly, his heart aching at the sight of her frail, broken form, leaning down on that white bed, wrapped in white sheets. White looked good at her, but colours were her favourite. The hospital room was too lame for her.

"Y/N." he whispered, sitting beside her on the edge of the bed, taking her hands in his and kissing her fingers. "Fucker's dead, and my arms are all yours to sleep in, angel." he said, laying down and gathering her carefully in his embrace. "No one's ever gonna dare mess around with my girl." he kissed the top of her head.

She opened her eyes, tears welling up as she looked at him. "Masa..." her eyes were gleaming with pure love and admiration. "You're my guardian hero."

He gently cradled her in his arms, nestling her like a little kitten in his clothes, holding her close and whispering soothing words. "I'm here, angel. I'm always here. I won't let anything happen to you ever again. I promise."

Kakihara felt a sense of peace; He had avenged his wife, rid the world of a useless scum, and now, all that mattered was Y/N's recovery. He would stay by her side, protect her, and ensure that no harm ever came to her again. In that moment, as he held her, he knew that no matter the darkness of their world, he will remain alive, to protect her from the evil surrounding her eden.

#kakihara #kakihara x reader #kakihara imagine #kakihara masao #kakihara masao x reader #kakihara masao imagine #ichi the killer #ichi the killer imagine #ichi the killer x reader

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forsworned · 3 years

Note

could I pls request the hashiras w/ a sensitive s/o ( they get upset easily etc . ) and how they’d react to someone accidentally saying something that made them cry ??

gender neutral reader if possible

if you don’t wanna write for all the hashira , feel free to pick your favourites or something , I don’t really mind tbh

thank you in advance ! ! ! have a wonderful day / noon / night 💞

a/n: thank you for requesting again!! this was lowkey hella hard to do dude so i'm really sorry for how long this took. i managed to get all the hashira in and kept it pg obviously for muichiro since he is underage but i left him as is. i was legit brain dead writing this but here you go!

𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕦𝕜𝕠 𝕜𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕛𝕦𝕣𝕠𝕦 ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ

He doesn't take well to it, but he also understands that the fellow Demon Slayer was only trying to give you constructive criticism. Kyoujurou would scramble at first not knowing how to react since it was the first time he'd ever seen you so distraught. But then he'd finally recollect himself and dismiss the slayer and get back to you.

But just as he finally got himself together you'd throw yourself in his arms and blubber like a baby. Which again would have him flustered at first, but he'd soon chuckle and hold your face in his hands. A chaste kiss on your forehead that would cease your weeping.

"You know, my little flame, you're quite cute when you cry."

You looked up from his tear soaked uniform to his blazing eyes, gazing down at you lovingly. It sent your heart racing and you could no longer look at him. So you did what any other person would do if they were madly in love Kyo and couldn't look him in the eyes. You buried your face back into his chest while the heat rushed to your cheeks. The sound of laughter escaping his lips once more as you smiled against his damp uniform.

𝕘𝕚𝕪𝕦𝕦 𝕥𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕠𝕜𝕒 ₍ᐢ ̥ ͉ ̥ᐢ₎

He doesn't exactly think it through, just does. So in one swoop motion he'd carry you out of there and gave the fellow slayer any icy glare that had them shivering to their core. You'd be shocked at how quickly he'd get you out of that situation and he'd stop at an isolated area for you guys to be alone.

"U-um, Giyuu?" You'd stutter, as you rubbed your eyelids and looked at him with eyes are big as saucers.

"Are you alright?" His stunning cerculean blue gaze was piercing through your heart.

"Y-yeah. You can put me down now." His face automatically vermillion with agitation at the realization of you being in his arms. He firmly planted you on the ground and turned away to avoid looking at you. You laughed at how cute he looked when becomes embarrassed and slipped your arms around him from behind as you buried your face in his back.

"Thank you, my love."

𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕟 𝕦𝕫𝕦𝕚 ₍ᐢ ̥ ̮ ̥ᐢ₎ *:･。

"Eh?! Why are you crying [name]?"

It wasn't the first time he'd see you crying, but he was very perplexed by the sight in front of him. He didn't think much of it when the lower rank demon slayer was simply advising you to be more careful on the next mission. His ruby glare burred holes into the back of their heads.

"Why the hell did you make them cry for? It's not very flamboyant of you." He was menancing to say the least. It caused the demon slayer to stammer on his words until you spoke up rubbing at your eyes.

"It's not their fault, Tengen. I just get emotional. You know this." You sniffled as you tried your best to regain your composure. A soft 'tch' left his lips before he carried you on his shoulder which gave rise to a squeal from you.

"Put me down!"

He smacked your bottom and chuckled devilishly.

"Nah, I think we're gonna change that whiney mood of yours right up!"

𝕠𝕓𝕒𝕟𝕒𝕚 𝕚𝕘𝕦𝕣𝕠 U ´꓃ ` U

He doesn't waste anytime elbowing the person into the ground. Not only for just talking to you, but making you cry?! Oh, buddy. You're in for the beating of a lifetime.

"Obanai!" You exclaimed. Your tear stained face contorted into worry as you watched the now pummeled slayer knock out cold.

"That'll teach him. I'll make sure he never sees the light of day the next time he even looks in your direction." He sneered at them and then looked at you with gentle eyes. "Are you alright?"

You nodded as he dabbed away at your face and caressed you cheek.

"Alright, let's go then."

He stated before getting up and taking your hand in his as he dragged you away from the scene.

"Wait! Shouldn't we help him?" You were glad that Obanai cared that much about you, but he really shouldn't just go around attacking people like that and leaving them unconscious.

"No, Shinobu will take care of that eyesore."

𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕠𝕓𝕦 𝕜𝕠𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕦 Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

"You must have a death wish."

The tone in her voice was so venomous yet sickly sweet it almost could've been enough to kill you. The nerve in her temple popping out as the demon slayer who was unfortunate enough to accidentally make you cry shuddered in fear.

"Shinobuuu." You whined. "Please leave them alone. They didn't mean any harm!"

Her eyes went soft when she saw you in your distressed state and then back to her vicious glare when it was back on them. "Run along now."

Her voice still even, yet scary. The demon slayer bowed quickly before escaping leaving you two alone. Shinobu sighed as she caressed your cheek.

"You're so delicate, sometimes." Your shoulders slumped at her words. It wasn't for long because Shinobu decided to plant a kiss on your nose and giggled. "Ara, ara, [name]-chan. You're still my sweet butterfly."

Shinobu didn't show much PDA, but when she did it made your heart implode and she was absolutely, 1000% aware of this.

𝕞𝕚𝕥𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕚 𝕜𝕒𝕟𝕣𝕠𝕛𝕚 ʕ♡˙ᴥ˙♡ʔ

Her face would get all puffed up and red as she watched you cry from a few feet away, that is until you started to hug the person that was causing the "commotion".

"I hope you find peace." You said softly as you pulled away. The person thanked you and bowed with tears in their eyes before stepping away.

"[Name], are you okay?!" Mitsuri exclaimed as she hugged you with all her might. You had to tap out for her to let go. She noticed this and you gasped for air as she apologized endlessly.

"I'm okay, Mitsuri. Their family was attacked by demons and I managed to save one member and they just came to thank me in person." You vigorously swabbed at your eyes with your sleeves before smiling again at your lovely wife. Mitsuri didn't realize her strength and sometimes that would lead to her infamous death hugs.

"Oh, [name]! You are so heroic!" She squeaked with joy as she squeezed you again, this time with less agnozing pressure. You hugged her back as you laid your head on her shoulder and thanked God your partner was as lovely as she was.

𝕘𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕚 𝕙𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕛𝕚𝕞𝕒 ₍ᐢ｡ ˬ ｡ᐢ₎

His towering height alone was enough to have the culprit who made you cry shaking in their boots. Gyomei would simply ignore that he sent that person pissing themselves and would lift you in his arms as he dabbed away at your tears with his hankerchief.

"Dont cry, my flower. They're not worth your precious tears." He'd murmur against the apple of your cheek as he kissed it. This would instantly boost your mood and have you throwing your arms around him and squeezing him tight. You'd plant the biggest kiss on his cheek causing him to blush.

"Thank you, Gyo."

𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕖𝕞𝕚 𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕫𝕦𝕘𝕒𝕨𝕒 ʕ； •`ᴥ•´ʔ

Anger. Kind of a no brainer. He'd go off on the person who made you cry and in return would make them cry and run far, far away. He'd comfort you by giving you a nice, bear hug and kiss on the top of your forehead whilst asking if you were ok. You'd end up laughing with tears still in your eyes and obviously this would puzzle him.

"What are you laughing about?"

"You just scared the bejeezus out of that guy and sent him crying!"

He'd chuckle and bring you back in for another warm hug and your face would nuzzle the crook of his neck.

"I'll send anyone crying for you."

𝕞𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕣𝕠 𝕥𝕠𝕜𝕚𝕥𝕠 ₍ᐢ ̥ ̞ ̥ᐢ₎ ♥

Much like when he showed his distain towards Tanjiro when he interrupted Oyakata-sama. He would be watching from a distance, and fiercely flick pebbles at a scary fast velocity that was deadly enough to pierce a hole through the person who dared to talk down to you. But, of course, he held back since it was only a mere human but it was enough to send them to groveling on their knees.

You'd wipe your tears away and turn in the direction it came from to see Muichiro smiling at you while tossing a pebble up and down in hand. He was always watching over you.

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tsumtsumland · 3 years

Text

“can’t help falling in love with you”| m.atsumu x reader

genre: fluff, sickly sweet romance

warnings: none

author’s note: this is a compilation of a few drabbles I wrote for one of my events, I just cleaned them up a bit and decided to post them as a one shot. Happy Birthday Atsumu!

A loud chime signifies 12pm and a frustrated growl leaves the faux blonde’s mouth. He glances at the antique grandfather clock on the wall and his fingers resume their wrestling with the bow tie hanging loosely around his neck. He grumbles quietly, refusing to accept that he should’ve just listened to you and gotten the clip-on ones. No, he wanted to do this right. Everything Atsumu was passionate about, he did with the utmost dedication, and this was no exception.

In all his life, he’s sure he’s never been as passionate about anything as he is about you (volleyball is a very close second). He huffs in annoyance when he tries again and the bow just does not budge, it looks sad, and droopy. He plops down on a chair in the room, trying to calm his thoughts. His hands are a bit sweaty, and he narrowly avoids running them through his hair and ruining it. That’s never happened before… he idly wonders why.

Osamu can’t help the amused smirk on his face while watching his twin struggle with the piece of fabric around his neck. He knows exactly what the problem is, but he also knows his brother is too stubborn to ever admit it… that he’s nervous. He strides over to the blonde version of himself, and grabs the tie around his neck, startling Atsumu.

“Hey! I can do—"

“Shut up, Tsumu,” he bites back, leaving no room for argument. His fingers expertly weave the piece of silk into the perfect bow. “There,” he mutters, and dusts a piece of lint off the black suit jacket. Atsumu is quiet, but he can see the gratitude in his eyes.

“Learn to accept help sometimes, Tsumu, you don’t have to do everything yourself,” are his parting words as he leaves the room.

Atsumu is frozen for a moment, before a fond smile breaks out on his face. He knows his twin means that in more ways than one, and he remembers similar words coming from you, his beloved, after a particularly brutal game in the first season you’d started working for MSBY. He was exhausted, and angry, after a nasty defeat, his fingernails bleeding, and knuckles bruised.

“It’s okay to accept help sometimes, it doesn’t make you weak or incapable,” you’d said softly as you held his calloused hands in your own soft ones, wiping away the blood carefully.

He thinks maybe that’s one of the first moments he realized he was in love with you.

Sitting in a room for too long before an event like this is bound to drive anyone insane, especially someone who thrives on being active. It’s 1pm now and Atsumu decides to take a walk, just to calm his thoughts down a bit. His feet lead him straight to the main hall, one you’d both chosen together. Your tastes weren’t so different, but you did have a bit of a difficult time choosing a venue, until this one. It was perfect.

He glances around the room, the crystal chandeliers you’d chosen hung decadently from the ceiling, reflecting on every glassy surface. It was all opulent, but not overdone. He wasn’t big on flowers and couldn’t understand for one minute why in the world they were so expensive, they’re flowers for crying out loud! His fingers reach out to touch one of the delicate, blush-colored petals of the centerpiece, and it takes him back to another time with you.

He thinks of the moment you walked into the flower shop to choose these very same flowers, and all he could see was you. Surrounded by so much beauty, yet you put it all to shame.

“I hope you’re not thinking of running away,” comes a stern voice that was all too familiar to him.

Atsumu bristles, and a short chuckle escapes him as he turns to face the only other woman he felt any real affection for, apart from you.

“I’ve never run away from anything mom,” he grins at her.

“That’s my boy,” she smiles, pride shining in her eyes.

His father comes to stand next to her, and leans over to pat his shoulder, “I hope you enjoyed your last few days of freedom, son,” he laughs when his wife glares and hits him.

Atsumu nods, he looks at his parents and wonders if that will be you and him in the future, the fluttering in his stomach tells him that he wants it to be. He remembers the day he brought you home to meet them. You were so nervous, and he’d only told them that he was bringing someone over. They assumed it was just a friend, because prior to that he hadn’t ever brought a serious girlfriend home, so the thought didn’t cross their minds.

They weren’t prepared for the way he looked at you, or the change in his rough demeanor when he held your hand and introduced you to them, stumbling over his words a little. If you were a little more aware in the moment, instead of trying to maintain your sanity, you would’ve noticed the sparkle in his mother’s eyes and the knowing look in his father’s as they looked at you two. It didn’t take them more than an hour into the dinner to give you both their seal of approval. They knew instantly that you were the one, and so did he.

“You’ll do fine, Tsumu,” his mother’s words are gentle and honest. They put him at ease.

…wise men say, only fools rush in…

Atsumu’s fidgeting stops, and he’s eerily still as the doors open. The moment his eyes fall on you, he feels like the breath’s been stolen right out of his lungs. You’re stunning, and all he can focus on is how you seem to shine brighter than the hundreds of twinkling lights that cover the ceiling and arches of the room.

…some things are meant to be…

It feels like every moment of his life has been building him up for this very one. Atsumu knows he’s not the best man in the world, he’s rough, and many think he’s rude, but he’s never cared for others’ opinions…until the moment he met you. You made him want to be a better version of himself. It goes without saying that he believes you will always be the better half, but he’d like to think that he’s deserving of your light.

…take my hand…

Tea lights in glass holders, and flower petals, illuminate the pathway to your soon-to-be husband, and you take a deep breath when you lock eyes with him. He’s dashing in his tux, his golden hair and eyes highlighted under the canopy of blush peonies and fairy lights at the end of the aisle. He looks like a prince right out of a fairytale. He’d definitely laugh if he heard you say that out loud, and you have to bite back a laugh at the thought of that conversation.

Atsumu isn’t sure how it happened until his vision is blurred, and he’s struggling a little to catch his breath, all he knows is that you’re there and you’re so beautiful, and he can’t imagine it being anyone else. He remembers now nervous he was on the night he proposed to you at the top of the Tokyo Skytree. The way your eyes lit up, and how the city lights paled in comparison to the radiance of your smile as you squealed a “yes!”

It’s barely visible but as you get closer, you see it, the wetness on his cheeks it’s so rare that it happens, that you notice. A wave of emotion hits you so strongly that you almost go weak in the knees.

…take my whole life too…

The look of absolute devotion, and pure love in his eyes is visible to everyone in the room, especially to you.

…For I can’t help falling in love with you…

#miya atsumu #miya atsumu fluff #Atsumu fluff #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x you #miya atsumu x y/n #atsumu x reader #haikyuu atsumu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #happy birthday atsumu #miya atsumu scenarios #miya atsumu imagines #atsumu scenarios #atsumu imagines

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bouncyirwin · 4 years

Note

So after reading Knock Knock, Let the Devil in again (I can’t praise you enough with how good that story is ♥️) and I’m so invested in the the dynamic between Shikamaru, Sakura, and Kakashi!

And because I have a question (and I hope I’m not bothering you by asking this 😭) how do you think Kakashi and Shikamaru would react if Sakura either came back from a mission seriously injured or if they found her seriously injured from a mission?

Hiii, thank you so much for this ask, I’m always so ready to gush about these three!

When I read this ask, inspiration quite literally slammed into me and I churned this out in a sprint session. Oops.

Word Count: 2,126 words

I present to you a one-shot in the knock knock-verse.

It was too early in the day to function, yet Shikamaru was in the Hokage’s office bustling about, feeling only half-human as he guzzled on his third coffee. “Fuckin’ paperwork,” he muttered disdainfully at the sight of an ungodly pile marked with his name.

That had to violate some natural law. How this became Shikamaru’s routine was beyond him.

Once upon a time, he professed that his deepest wish was to lead a mediocre life. And here he was.

Tsunade showed up ten minutes late, visibly drunk and doing very little to conceal it. “Morning,” she tossed over her shoulder and made a beeline for the coffee machine.

“Hokage-sama,” Shikamaru said, studying the dark circles under her eyes and her ashen pallor. “You look …”

He clamped his mouth shut. Was it worth getting assigned a D-rank to let her know she looked like shit? Probably not.

“Save it kid, I know,” she waved a casual hand and slumped in her chair. “Couldn’t care less with the night I pulled.”

“Drinking again, Hokage-sama?” he inquired with polite interest.

“Ha,” she said. “I wish.”

When he raised an eyebrow, she elaborated, slumping even further in her chair. “Sakura,” she pinched the bridge of her nose. “They brought her back yesterday.”

Shikamaru’s heart sank. “Brought her back?”

“Yes, there was an ambush and she was badly injured—cracked every one of her ribs, that idiot. And the hospital was out of B-positive blood so Shizune had to sit the healing session out to donate blood. Nearly ran myself dry trying to keep her breathing…” Tsunade was scrubbing at her face but Shikamaru wasn’t listening anymore—he could barely hear her over the deafening roar of his heartbeat.

“Is she alive?” he demanded once he found his voice. “Is she going to be okay?”

“Yes, but she’s going to need plenty of rest—” the rest of her sentence remained a mystery for Shikamaru tore out of the room with a single-minded focus.

In the space between heartbeats, rationality was tossed out of the window. It left behind a desperate and half-crazed person—he needed to see her, to hear her heartbeat, to see the lively green of her eyes and he wasn’t going to rest until it happened.

He burst through the hospital doors undoubtedly looking like he’d escaped an asylum. The nurse he cornered shot him a bewildered look. “Sir, are you—” she began to say when he cut her off.

“Haruno Sakura,” he demanded breathlessly. “Her room. Where can I find her?”

“Sir,” she attempted again, sounding a little exasperated. “Haruno-san just underwent extensive surgery, she’s not allowed visitors, only family members can see her.”

Shikamaru pinned her with a no-nonsense look. “Akane-san,” he read off her name tag. “By order of the Hokage, I’m here to see Haruno Sakura.”

Akane shuffled nervously. “Do you have an official slip?”

He arched an eyebrow at her, as if to say ‘really?’.

“I-I might get in trouble,” her eyes shifted unsurely. “I need to put you down as a relative and you’re… what would I mark you down as, sir?”

It occurred to him a second later that he was being a total ass. But rationality had already fled. He was now a mess of frayed nerves.

The toddler bawling in the background wasn’t helping his case, and neither was the frantic husband demanding to see his wife at the reception, babbling about … oh.

Shikamaru turned back to the nurse, and before he realised what he was saying, he blurted. “Her husband. Mark me down as her husband.”

Akane blinked. “Oh.”

Shikamaru stared her down, daring her to argue with him. But she simply nodded and scribbled something on her chart. “Right. Of course. Follow me.”

As they stalked through clinical hallways, Shikamaru’s heart rose in a crescendo, worry and nervousness swirling in his chest in a toxic mix. What would he see upon reaching her room? Was she in pain? Was she even lucid? Gods, what if she was in a coma? What if she’d hurt herself so irreparably that it cost her career?

His mind raced with sickly thoughts until his stomach roiled and his face tinged green.

Akane stopped at room 217 and there she was.

“Oh gods,” Shikamaru whispered.

She was hooked to so many wires. Oxygen tubes and an IV and a heart monitor and tubes he didn’t even recognise. She looked frail and broken, too small amidst white sheets and beeping monitors.

He heard Akane quietly slip out of the room and was glad for it because his knees nearly buckled.

Sakura wasn’t awake. Hell, she didn’t even look alive, her face so pale where it wasn’t bruised blue and purple.

Numbly, his feet carried him to her side, his breath a short and rapid thing that barely saturated his lungs.

There was blood caked beneath her fingernails and in the cracks of her lips. His eyes stung faintly as they slid over to the heart monitor.

It was too slow.

“Oh god,” he said again, every cell in his body congested with fear.

He was afraid to even reach out and touch her, lest she broke apart under his fingertips. Delicately, ever so delicately and with trembling fingers, he ghosted a light stroke across the apple of her cheek.

“Sakura…” he said feebly, wishing her eyes would just open.

Except they didn’t. And her heart monitor droned on sluggishly in the background, crawling heartbeats that served more in adding to his anxiety than diminishing it.

It was beating. But it wasn't beating enough. What if it stopped beating?

Shikamaru wasn’t prepared. She wasn’t allowed to die. Not yet. Not ever. He didn’t care what laws governed this cursed world, this was Sakura, she was spring incarnated, and she wasn’t allowed to die.

His fingers curled around her hand, and he wished for the first time in his life that he could heal. That he could bleed strength into her the way she did to him.

It was getting difficult to breathe. What if she died?

What then?

Fuck, he hadn’t even told her he loved her.

His vision swam, rendering the room a splash of colours and pink. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t breathe.

In the muddled daze of anxieties and fears, Shikamaru wished he had the foresight to grab Kakashi.

He’d never needed an anchor more than he did in that second.

Kakashi was having an incredibly shitty day.

His coffee machine broke down, he spilled tea over his mission report and he mixed a black shirt with his coloured laundry and now half of his clothes were beyond repair.

“Dammit,” he sighed, tossing his book aside. He couldn’t even read, busy as he was dwelling on his ruined laundry.

He took one dispassionate look at his soggy report and groaned. “What a mess,” he’d actually attempted to do this one on time. Served him right for breaking his routine.

Kakashi grabbed his weapons holster and stepped out for some much needed air. Maybe he should just turn in a tea-flavoured report—perhaps if he offered Tsuande a bottle of sake she’d make an exception and accept it.

He made a beeline to her office, remembering he was due for a debrief. But what he found upon his arrival wasn’t what he expected.

Tsunade was shouting to Shizune, clearly exasperated: “—and he just upped and left! I’m his Hokage, and he upped and left!”

“Maah…” Kakashi began unsurely.

Tsunade’s gaze cut to him. “Hatake, there you are,” she huffed. “I’m too fucking hungover for this. We’re one man down, I need someone to look over these reports.”

Kakashi frowned, finally noticing how empty her office looked. “Where’s Shikamaru…?”

“The idiot left,” Tsunade growled, raising goosebumps on his arms. “I told him I spent all night healing her, what did he think, that I’d leave her to die? Fucking hell.”

“Leave who to die?” Kakashi said, confused. “What happened?”

“Sakura happened,” Tsunade ranted tiredly. “They brought her back almost half dead, I’ve been patching her up for the better part of eight hours and this is how I’m rewarded.”

But Kakashi had stopped listening after ‘half dead’. Half dead? “Half … dead?” he echoed, his mouth dry.

No. This wasn’t happening.

This wasn’t happening.

“Yes,” Tsunade sighed. “But I operated on her and she’s going to be fine.”

Kakashi barely heard the words. His brain was a string of very adamant denial. No, no, no, no.

He didn’t want it to be true—all those years he had been certain, was so sure that it was him, that he was the reason the people he loved always died. That he was a curse to those he cared about.

Every person he loved came back in a body bag.

Fuck.

Kakashi turned tail, a sudden manic urge to see her rising unbearably in his chest. What if Tsunade was lying, what if Sakura wasn’t fine? What if she was fine, but she died anyway?

Fear pumped through his veins, rendering him dizzy. This was his worst nightmare come to life—how could he have forgotten that people, even those that could mend bones and heal what was broken, were so damn breakable?

His legs couldn’t carry him quickly enough.

He didn’t waste time interrogating the nurses for her whereabouts, he knew her scent like she was a part of him. It led him to her now, her unique sweetness tainted with blood and antiseptic.

Gods, he was going to be sick.

He nearly ripped the door off its hinges in his haste to get to her.

Shikamaru was already there, looking wrecked, looking worse than Kakashi had ever seen him. “Is she—”

He couldn’t even say it.

“They … they said they don’t know when she’ll wake up,” Shikamaru whispered hollowly.

Kakashi felt the ground crumbling beneath his feet. “No,” he whispered, leaning back against the wall when he teetered off balance.

His hip jarred against the doorknob but Kakashi barely registered the sting. Barely anything registered beyond the fear-terror-fear coursing through his veins like poison. “Please, no,” he said.

This couldn’t be happening again.

His father and Obito and Rin and Minato-sensei—hadn’t they been enough? Was Sakura going to be another name on the too long list of losses that haunted him?

He really was going to be sick. He clenched his jaw against the reflex, forcing his brain out of the dizzying tornado of anxieties. His gaze focused on Shikamaru, the only other person that mattered as much.

He didn’t look good at all, pale and shaking and appearing ready to fall apart.

The sight of him was strangely grounding.

Kakashi found his elusive strength, located his knees under him and was at his side in the next second.

“Shikamaru,” he rasped, clutching the other man’s arm.

“She looks dead,” Shikamaru whispered. “I … I …”

Words eluded him.

Kakashi tugged at his arm, drawing Shikamaru against him. He went without a fight, slumping against Kakashi’s chest like a puppet whose strings were cut.

“It’s going to be okay,” Kakashi lied, surprised by how much conviction he could bleed into it when it was for someone else’s benefit. “She’s going to be fine.”

Shikamaru shook in his hold, his shoulders minutely trembling. But just as suddenly, his body calmed down and he gripped tightly onto Kakashi’s middle. “What if she isn’t?”

“She will be,” Kakashi stressed because … anything else was not an option. “It’s Sakura. She punched a goddess in the face.”

Shikamaru let out a short, pained laugh against him. “Gods, don’t remind me; what a reckless idiot.”

“It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Kakashi confessed in a soft murmur against Shikamaru’s hair. He tightened his hold on him, drawing strength from the warmth of his body. “As beautiful as the two of you together.”

Lean fingers dug in his back. “I’m glad you’re here,” Shikamaru said sincerely. “I’m glad you came. Fuck, I think I’m gonna cry.”

“You can cry,” Kakashi soothed, sinking his fingers in lush, dark hair. “Hell, I might cry.”

Shikamaru let out a wet chuckle. “Yeah.”

Kakashi’s face bowed, nuzzling the side of his head as he took a shuddering breath. He clutched Shikamaru closely, his breath shallow and his heart a warbling mess in his chest.

He couldn’t think about if she died. He would die, then, if not from sorrow then from a broken psyche. It was easier to focus on the beeping machines and Shikamaru’s sure, thudding heart. Kakashi tuned in on every shuddering breath, his palm mapping his expanding ribs.

His focus narrowed down to his senses, to Shikamaru, to Sakura’s fighting, beating heart and prayed like he never had before.

She was going to be alright.

She had to be.

#bouncyirwin writes #kakasakushika #kakasaku #shikasaku #kakashika #naruto #angst #hurt/comfort #knock knock let the devil in #sakura haruno #kakashi hatake #Shikamaru nara

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jomiddlemarch · 3 years

Text

the long way to you is still tied to me but it brought me to you

Nina hadn’t expected Matthias to say anything and he hadn’t, but fortunately, she hadn’t had to rely upon him as she had when she’d first arrived as his new bride, each day at Fjerda full of questions only he could answer.

Ina, always the minister’s wife first, busy with mending all the cast-off clothes had been donated by their sister parish back East, had been quick to mention the number of years Matthias had been homesteading, how old he’d been when he’d staked his claim and how he wasn’t one to make a fuss except when it was Berit’s birthday though his own was easier to mark as it didn’t fall in the depths of winter like his daughter’s nor at the peak of the harvest. John Stone, the dour, stolid neighbor Nina had discovered was the first to lend a hand, the last to leave plowing, tireless in the face of any calamity, whether it was a blizzard or a blight or a sickly cow who couldn’t drop her calf, had remarked Matthias could use a new scythe and adze in Nina’s hearing, which couldn’t have been anything other than a hint, and voluble Jess, who ran the general store, made sure to inquire about whether Nina had enough flour and white sugar just before telling her about an unexpected delivery of lemons he’d received, a rarity and one Matthias was right partial to, even if he hadn’t let on to his missus.

Eugenia Kostyk, stopping by with a kitten from her cat’s latest litter to help keep down mice in the barn, was the most direct. She’d started as soon as she’d untied the ribbons of her bonnet and taken it off, giving the calico a gentle shake .

“You know Mr. Helvar’s birthday’s coming up in a few weeks, Miz Helvar,” she announced once Nina had accepted the kitten, naming her Zenobia in hopes of making a warrior out of the little ginger scrap.

“That’s been conveyed to me, though no one’s volunteered the date,” Nina answered, smiling. Eugenia always reminded Nina of a crabapple tree, all pink and white blossom in the spring, with a sweet smile for her friends which never quite matched the one she gave to her husband, a spare, dark man who seemed most at ease when his hands were occupied repairing something broken.

“The 19th,” Eugenia said. “You reckon you’ll have enough time to prepare? Only I don’t mind helping out, even if you just need me to mind Berit for an afternoon.”

“I know she’d be glad of the chance to visit with you, but I’ve everything well enough in hand,” Nina said. “She’s positive your dressmaker’s dummy is enchanted, I had to tell her not to say a word about it at Sunday School, less she’d be set an extra psalm to learn for her punishment.”

“I don’t think Mrs. Rietveld would be that strict,” Eugenia replied.

“She wouldn’t. It would be her papa who scolded and they’d both be miserable over it. I explained we’d only speak of it at home, so no bad fairy tries to steal the enchanted dummy away,” Nina said.

“He’s lucky, Mr. Helvar,” Eugenia said.

“Lucky?” Nina thought of the slightness of Berit’s shoulders and her bad ear, the delicate lilac muslin dress folded at the bottom of the chest at the foot of their bed, Berit’s mother’s wedding dress saved for her daughter, the calluses on Matthias’s hands, the bleached straw his gold hair turned when he worked fourteen hour days in the fields.

“That when he wrote, you came, you and no one else, Miz Helvar,” Eugenia said. “I don’t think anyone could suit him better—”

“He’s an easy man to suit,” Nina began.

“No, he’s not,” Eugenia said. “That’s why he’s lucky. I’ll be off now, Mr. Kostyk will be worried if I’m not home before dusk. And you have a supper to get I imagine.”

“Among other things,” Nina said.

“Nina, how did you—you didn’t have to, this is too much,” Matthias exclaimed when the 19th arrived and he came in from the fields and found Nina and Berit standing in front of the table he’d made himself. There was a roast chicken on a platter, dishes of mashed potato and boiled parsnips, a new muslin shirt draped over the back of the chair he used, an adze tied with one of Berit’s rose velvet hair-ribbons, and a lemon tart, missing meringue but pretty all the same, a pie crust filled with summer sunshine.

“I have my ways and of course I did,” she said. “And it’s not too much, not nearly too much—”

“It’s too dear,” he said.

“You said the egg money was mine, didn’t you?” she asked, using the pert tone that usually wrong-footed him unless he was entirely comfortable or a little drunk on the moonshine John Stone brewed and doled out from an ancient jug.

“I did, but I didn’t mean for you—”

“I spent it how I wanted,” Nina said. “You never ask for anything, so I can see how this seems like too much, but it isn’t. And Berit and I had such a good time preparing everything for Papa, you can’t wish we hadn’t had such a lovely day.”

“This was more than a day’s work,” Matthias said, but he’d accepted it, she could hear it in his voice and see in his blue eyes a warmth that made her blush.

“There’s one more gift,” she said, very quietly, once she’d sent Berit to wash her hands at the kitchen sink. Matthias looked at her, glanced at the table and around the room. She smiled and reached out to take his hand. She held it against herself just as he had after the first time he’d called her little red bird. “It won’t come for several months, but you won’t mind being patient. It’s harder for me. I can’t wait to introduce you to my truest love.”

For @fericita-s, enjoy!

#shadow and bone #six of crows #sarah plain and tall crossover au #helnik on the prairie #helnik #romance #gift-fic #fluff #can you spot the crows?#genya/david #darkling-free zone #fericita-s

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lost-locket-antiques · 2 years

Text

What Kind of Man?

Word count: 2,254

Summery:

Akwülf comes home from work, just like every other day, but Lelith, his wife, seems to be in a foul mood.

Rating: PG-13 for heavily implied spousal abuse and rape.

A/N: I have never been the greatest at actually writing, but I had this story stuck in my head that I needed to get out. A lot of it is actually pretty similar to my own childhood, just without the sexual bits...

This is actually kind of important to Blood of the Halfbreed's story, so I promise, this isn't for shock value. what importance it has, well... I leave you to decide.

READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED

He had come home again, just like every day. Tired and sweaty from the labor, just so he could come home to his wife. There she was, in the kitchen, looking loathingly at the pot of food she was preparing for the two of them.

She was as beautiful as the day they had met, gently waving copper hair, and delicate skin, as gorgeous as any Elf. The fact that she would pick him, a simple Gnome, was beyond him.

Now, it wasn’t as if he was a slouch, in either the looks or work department. He was a decently handsome man, with brown hair as dark as oak, the stereotypical heterochromatic eyes ever Gnome had, as his were brown and green. When it came down to it, he was no different to any other Gnome you came across. It was just that it was rare for a Gnome and an Elf to find common ground, as they had two very different jobs.

Gnomes tending the land and livestock, working every day in the field, and that was a very different job compared to Elves; who were healers of the body and the mind. And it seemed those two professions rarely mingled. Still, they seemed to make it work… so far as anyone could see.

“Lelith,” He called out her name, her long, pointed ears perked at his voice, and the door closing, “I’m home,” there was a twinge of pain as she turned her head towards him, an almost angry look plastering her face, her icy blue eyes seemed to pierce through his soul. Oh Gods, he thought, is she in one of her moods again?

His wife was a kind woman, she really, truly was, she just sometimes had a bit of a temper. And he knew that he should tread lightly. Tired as he was, dealing with her when she was like this was worse than work could ever be.

“Why were you out so late, Akwülf?” She asked him, her voice sickly sweet, as if to try and calm herself down. She really did try and keep calm “You promised you wouldn’t work past sundown,”

And she was right, he had promised. His twin tails swayed uncomfortably as he walked towards the fireplace, her gaze never leaving him, while he gently placed his cloak on the rack near the warm fire. He really didn’t want to answer her.

“I’m sorry, love,” Akwülf said, “my friends and I were just out having a drink or two, and I guess it got later than I expected,” It wasn’t the full truth, but it wasn’t a lie either. He had been out with his friends, the ones that Lelith let him see anyways, she was always so worried about him. But he had only been out with them for maybe an hour before heading, slowly, home. He didn’t know why, but he was dreading walking through the door, and the walk didn’t ease him in the slightest.

Maybe he knew that she would be in one of her moods, maybe he just wasn’t feeling making love that day, as she would most assuredly convince him to do, even if he was exhausted. And every single day he felt bad for ever denying her. It was not as if he didn’t love her in that way, it was just sometimes he would prefer just to sit in each other’s company, and talk about anything else.

Was that normal for a man? He wasn’t sure.

“Oh?” She asked, her eyes narrowing, oh so slightly, that made Akwülf twitch a little. Why? She wasn’t doing anything “If you were planning on leaving me to stare at our pot of food, it would have been nice to know before hand,”

He sighed, there wasn’t really any reason to argue with her, it was basically pointless. There were countless times that he had tried, and failed to convince her that most of the time his friends' outings were completely random, no matter how many times he would plead with them to schedule. They would just laugh and say “Oh, you’re gonna let your wife tell you what to do?” Which in truth, was not the case at all! He just respected her boundaries, and wanted to let her feel confident that he was keeping his word.

There where many a time Lelith thought that he was cheating on her, and every time he remembered her broken and sad face as she begged him not to leave her, how she would say that he was the only reason that she was alive, and how she would commit her soul to the Barrow if he ever left her. How he remembered, and how he comforted her every time it would come up.

Akwülf swore on the day of their wedding that he would never leave her, and he reminded her of those vows every day, since it seemed she was quick to forget…

“Beloved, I promise if I had known, I would have told you,” he said, “But you know my friends, they have no idea how to plan anything,” he tried to laugh, but it quickly faded as she glared at him, the ice from her eyes almost a physical thing.

“I thought we agreed,” her tongue almost flicked like a serpent, but her voice was even “that if they kept doing that, you’d stop seeing them. They’re a bad influence, you know,”

To you… he thought scornfully, but he quickly pushed that idea aside. He looked up at her, she being twice his size, her height was almost intimidating, but he would not back down from his wife. Gnome or no, smaller than her or not, she would not dictate who he would spend his time with while he was away from her. He was no cheater, and he knew that.

Planting his digitigrade feet, he spoke “Lelith, they only do that because our work hours barely align. I’ve listened to you with my other ‘friends’ and stopped speaking with them, and I agreed that they were not a healthy group of people to be around. But these men are my friends, and I care about them very much,”

At this, she seemed a little offended, and with her nearly fearful face, the wind in his sails died out.

“When did I say you had to stop seeing them?” She asked, the hurt in her voice clear, “I just merely stated that we had agreed on the terms that if they kept being a bad influence you’d reconsider hanging around them as often,”

Before he could protest, she placed both of her hands on his cheeks, cupping his face as if he were a child. He hated that.

“Oh, Akwülf,” she said, gently kissing his lips. She tasted like bitter almonds. “I just worry, I miss you when you’re away, and only wish for you to come home to me, is that such a crime?” Her eyes were pleading with him, begging for him to agree.

“Why don’t we have some dinner, hmm?” She let go of his face, and walked towards the pot, it was stew. “All that farming must have been the Barrow, let me take your mind off of it,” the way she was talking, made him understand what she was alluding to, and he couldn’t help but dread it. She used her index finger to pull him towards the table, and what else could he do, but oblige.

As she scooped up a ladle full of potatoes, meat, and other vegetables, it seemed she moved her body to entice him, swaying her hips and flicking her hair out of her face, any other day it would work. But the last thing he wanted to do was to make love to this woman.

He was tired, and Lelith was pissed, for lack of a better word, and when those two worlds intermingled, he was usually the one to get hurt because of it. It was his fault, he knew.

For what kind of man didn’t want to have sex?

It was pathetic, and as he sat down at the table, she placed his and her bowl on it.

While it looked good, one bite was all it took for him to realize it was bland and tasteless. Somehow, he could taste all the spices and ingredients she had used, and yet it tasted like nothing. Food usually tasted like this for him when she was like this. He wondered if it tasted bland to her as well? But there was no way in the Souls’ Barrow he would ask her, she would absolutely go into a fit of rage.

So they sat, quiet as ever, until both finished their meal.

Trying to be kind to his wife, as she had cooked the meal, Akwülf had volunteered to put the dishes away. It was the polite thing to do, after all. He grabbed both her and his bowls and walked over to what they called the “dish hole”. It was a silly little name his wife had called it, as they had a really bad habit of leaving their used dishes there and forgetting to go and grab enough water to wash them. This time, however, he thought it might be nice to go and prepare water for it. A way to clear his head before Lelith… convinced him to come to bed with her.

Before he could even grab the bucket for water, his wife wrapped her long, delicate arms around him, gentle, but firm. He knew what she wanted…

“Where are you going, beloved?” Her voice sultry and smooth, intoxicating to most, a threat to him.

“To fetch water, love,” he said, “The dish hole was getting a bit full and I thought-,” his answer was stopped by her lips on his neck, and her hands inching a little too close to his manhood. She purred in his ear.

“That can wait~,” she whispered “for a moment, come and be my husband,”

He involuntarily shivered. On the one hand, she was inviting, her sweet perfume wafted past his nose, and her touch wasn’t unpleasant, but something was off. It was as if his body and his mind were saying two different things.

His body wanted in, and his mind wanted out.

Before she could undo his trousers and slip her hand down, he grabbed her, stopping her in her tracks. Her kisses ceased and his stomach dropped, as if his body had caught up with his mind that he didn’t want this.

“Please,” he croaked “not right now,”

“What do you mean?” She asked, dejected.

He looked up at her once again, and with an almost pleading look, said “I’m sorry, love, but I’m just not in the mood right now. I would love to spend time with you, but at the moment I’m just feeling a bit out of it, and would not be the best partner at this time. How am I supposed to love you properly like this?” He gestured to himself, noting that he didn’t smell the nicest either, and could use a bath.

But she wasn’t having any of it.

“So, you leave me alone for hours, and can’t be bothered to bed me?” She pulled away, almost violently, and turned around, the hurt in her voice clear.

“No that’s not-,” he began, before being cut off for not the first time this evening.

“Do you not love me, Akwülf?” She asked, and when he saw her face, noticed tears welling up in her eyes, “You leave me all alone in this house, while you spend time with your ‘friends’” there was such venom in her voice when she said “friends” that it made him twitch “that by the time you finally get here, you’re ‘tired’ and ‘not in the mood’. When are you ever in the mood, beloved?”

Plenty of times he thought, as he rubbed his forearm, and that’s what he wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come out. Was he being selfish? He did love her, and he did happily make love to her, once upon a time, but those times because fewer and fewer, as her moods became more and more…

No, no, she was right, he was being selfish… he had no right, as her husband, to keep sex from her… it was his fault that she felt this way, not Lelith’s. She was only asking what any normal wife would, why would he deny her?

What kind of man denies sex?

So he relented, placing the bucket down, and gently clasping her hips. While his mind screamed for him to run, flee for the hills, his body moved with excitement. His wife, his beautiful, lovely, terrifying wife, stared down at him. Her eyes still glossy from the tears, she smiled, and once again cupped his face with her hands.

“Good man~,” she cooed, and kissed him passionately, forcefully. She wasted no time undressing him and herself before either of them made it to their bed. Touching and kissing him selfishly.

She used him, like she always did, barely allowed him to enjoy any of it, just enough for her. Akwülf just stared blankly at the wall, begging the Gods for it to be done, for her to either get bored, or for him to finish…

And in between prayers, this thought kept creeping into his mind.

What kind of man avoids sex?

When Lelith was done, Akwülf had never felt so filthy…

#my writing #locket library #legends of loro #fantasy #gnome #elf #short story #writing #oc #original character #ocs #original characters #sad fiction #mental abuse

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kyunisixx · 3 years

Text

ivy (chapter i)

pairing: John Paul Jones AU x original fem!reader

a/n: important note: please let me know if any of y'all would like to be on my permanent taglist or a specific member taglist (since I write for all LZ boys). Also, this is an AU so most of concepts are made-up and fictional so there are definitely inaccuracies but um yeah, aside from that nothing else much to say but enjoy?

theme(s): AU, mention of nsfw, angst.

summary: After years of being a con artist, Hiraya Javier had mastered the ability to mask her real identity to get herself the life she had always wanted: adorned with jewelries, expensive dresses and be a wife to an influential and rich businessman.

When an urgent call demanded her husband, Neil Lewis' attention for a month, she met the quiet but quick-witted John Baldwin, a stable boy and the gardener of the manor. Then she finds that her facade wasn't so strong after all.

masterpost | playlist (I will be adding songs as the story progresses and as I post every chapter)

the faith forgotten land

1954 - Hayward Manor House, Dedham, Essex

Mindless.

Like a doll. That's how men want women to be. Foolish, stammering, and doe-eyed in their presence. In all her years working on her so-called successful career, she had memorized the gazes of every well-dressed gentleman that frequented every casino all over Las Vegas.

Shameless, perverse, almost… dehumanizing. Like wolves in sheep's clothing, hiding in the cloud of smoke of their expensive tobaccos.

Admittedly, she loved the flock of attention all while giving them a taste that was little to none that they chew on like a dog with a bone.

“Oh, dear! You didn't have to,” she would say in a bashful manner with a slow bat of her eyelashes as she would gather her hair for the man to clasp an expensive jewelry around her delicate neck. Then a sickly sweet kiss on their cheeks that would have their eyes glaze over with pitiful desire. She would leave later that night with a white lie and a promise that seemed to have worked every time, leaving bridges to burn in her wake. However, she had read the script and the costume seemed to fit so she was happy to play the part, so long as they paid her for it.

Men wanted one thing, and Neil Patrick Lewis, founder of a well-known liquor company in America, for sure, wasn't an exception.

She had met him a few years back at a charity event where Janice, a beautiful Colombian woman in the same business who she was good friends with, brought her to as a third-wheel back in Vegas. The blond Englishman with glinting green eyes that reminded her of dollar bills was a divorcé with no children at the age of 52. Charming and powerful, not a sign of crease on his suit, classy and smelled expensive. She could remember being drawn to the slow drawl of his voice, laced by an accent that made her knees almost buckle.

She knew that with faint giggles and coy stare through her lashes was enough to have him under her spell, and so they went on what he cheekily referred to as rendezvous for months before eventually popping the pretty question at a fancy Italian restaurant somewhere in California.

The proposal caught her off guard that she almost walked out on him had it not been for the pretty ring he pulled out from a black velvet box.

It was never her initial plan to marry for the sole purpose of getting an easy life. There was a part inside of her that yearned for something genuine and true. But everything that was genuine and true in her life has vanished, taken away from her so abruptly that for ten years, she questioned who's sins she was paying for. She said “yes” for she had nothing else to lose and perhaps everything to gain.

And look where that got her now, she thought, as she eyed the shimmering stone of her three-carat diamond wedding ring, sitting in front of her own fancy vanity.

Looking at her reflection in the mirror, one would think it was somebody else. Her eyes held a distant glimmer of desolation yet in her mind; she was happy. Contented. Or so what she tells herself.

“Aurie.”

Aurora. Now Aurora Carter-Lewis, the name she got from a poster and with the family name of a man she once swindled. How could she forget Noel Carter? A small man with a beer belly, married to the daughter of a politician, owner of multiple clubs all over the state, had assets worth $20 million and a man who had audaciously asked if he could “worship her feet”, to quote his exact words. The thought sent an involuntary shudder to her.

“Yes, darling?” she forced a wide smile on her face upon facing her husband. Dressed in his usual nightwear and heading straight right where she was. He stopped behind her and trailed his fingers along the blades of her shoulders, “How are you finding it here? Do you like the house?”

“It's wonderful! I'm yet to explore the entirety but I can't wait to check the garden out. I've been quite bored of staying inside,” she looked up at him as her hand wrapped around his forearm with a wide stretch of a smile on her lips, “And thank you for getting me my own room for a closet. I loved it.”

He cupped her chin and met her eyes in the mirror, “Of course. You know this,” he gestured his hand and looked around, “Everything. It's all for you.”

He kissed the top of her head and trailed his lips to her temple. Hands now creeping dangerously close to her sides and she closed her eyes, feeling his fingers slide the thin strap of her night dress until it revealed her bare and heaving chest. Granted, to her, their marriage was loveless. But at the very least, the man was good in bed when he wasn't too exhausted from his day at work. And perhaps, that was good enough along with the gifts he showers her to fill the gaping void in her.

“What do you me― Marco, you know we need that fucking deal,” was the first thing she heard as her husband's exasperated sigh echoed in the dark room. She opened her eyes to him standing by the window with his hand on his hip as he listened to the other line, “Exactly, so do your bloody job!”

Slowly and sluggishly sitting up, she squinted at the small clock on the nightstand on her side; 2 am. She pulled the comforter off of her body and quietly watched her husband exchange a few more hiss of words at the person on the other line, he gritted his teeth until she could hear his molars grinding together, a habit he does when he's frustrated.

Trudging softly to where he was standing, not even bothering to wear her robe, she wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning her cheek on his back. She could feel his back deflating as Neil let out a defeated sigh and ran his fingers through his usually gelled back hair that was now unkempt from their recent activities, “Fine. I'll be there.”

He cursed and placed the telephone back to its place and almost none-too-gently peeled her arms off of him to walk back to their bed. She frowned and followed, “You’re leaving?”

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?'' he snapped but pursed his lips and sighed, “Yes, I’m flying back to California first thing in the morning to meet some important investors.”

She swallowed thickly but nodded, “I'll pack your bags then.”

And so he did the next morning, leaving a chaste kiss on her temple and a murmur of “I’ll be right back,” to which she resisted asking “When?”

They had just moved last week after all and he was already leaving her by herself. She waved as the car drove off, her smile fading as did the silhouette of the vehicle. Slowly, she turned around to retreat and perhaps find herself a book to divulge but staggered as she noticed a shadow crept by her peripheral vision. She wasn’t one to believe in superstitions yet there was an unmistakable pounding in her chest as she warily eyed her surroundings.

Surely, it couldn’t be one of the helpers playing a stupid game on her. Or maybe it was, they weren’t exactly warm to her after all. Then something brushed up on her calf and she jumped with a yelp, almost losing her balance.

“Oh my god,” she bunched the dress on her chest and looked down and bursted out laughing, almost busting her gut, “You sneaky thing, scaring me like that!”

It was a black feline with shiny charcoal fur, a white patch on the nose area and tea-colored eyes. She coos and knelt down, scratching the cat’s head to its chin, “Oh you're a pretty one, aren't you?”

The cat purred softly, leaning its face on her palm eagerly.

“Ingrid! Sweet girl, where did you go?” came a voice to her left from the dining room then followed by a “There you are.”

She faced the man and he halted, bowing his head lightly, murmuring “Good morning, Madam.”

The man had long, dark brown hair that was the color of honey brushing on his shoulders. Something she finds peculiar as she’s rarely seen men with long hair but strange enough, it framed his face flawlessly.

She nodded, “Good morning. Is she yours?”

“No, Madam. It's Cynthia's, the cook.”

“I see,” smiling, she smoothed her hand on the cat's back. Ingrid plopped down and bared her furry tummy to her. She laughed, who was she to deny such a tempting offer?

“She seems to like you, which is strange. She's not so usually warm to new people.” the man mused. She stood to her full weight and looked back at him, “Your name?”

“Oh, pardon my manners. John. Baldwin, John― Baldwin...” he scratched the back of his head, “I― well, I do the garden work but I also help around the stable.”

“Right. Well, I'm-”

“Madam Aurora,” he interrupted while nodding.

“Lose the formalities, Mr. Baldwin. You can just call me Aurora. I'm not so used to it.”

“You just called me Mr. Baldwin, so I shall address you with the same level of formality,” he smiled, “It's only fair, don't you think, Madam?”

Cocking her head to the side, she studied him with a ghost of a smile on her lips, she didn't think that one up, “Fair enough.”

John took hesitating steps and picked the cat up, patting its head affectionately, “I'm sorry if she quite scared you. Sir Neil disliked cats but allowed Ingrid in so long as she stayed away from his sight.”

“Well, my husband just left. You can let her out here, I wouldn't mind her company.”

“Nobody minds her company at all,” he scratched the cat's cheek and laughed, “Except Sir Neil, that is.”

She shrugged and took the cue to leave, “I should get going, then.”

“Of course. Have a great day,” he called out as he padded back where he came from with Ingrid in his arms.

After a quick stop at the kitchen for a glass of water hours later, she walked out and headed straight to the garden now with a science textbook in her hand. Bare feet padded on the cobbled pathway to a nearby bench, eyeing the flowers swaying into the gusting air.

Upon fetching a fancy glass to fill up, she could feel stares burning at the back of her skull. It had always been like that for the whole week after they had settled in, and so she made an effort to offer a warm smile, asking if there was anything she could do to help with making lunch or around the kitchen and as much as asking them to join her as she didn't want to eat alone. But everyone was so… closed off on her. Not once were they rude, of course, but they treated her with such cold and stiff shoulders and avoided her gaze. Who was she, really, to blame them for in their eyes, she was another desperate digger.

It wasn't any different with Neil around. But at least she had someone she knew, someone she was familiar with in such a big space of a house.

She sighed. Every form of refuge has its price.

“You like science?”

She jumped and dropped the book, hissing as her elbow hit the handrest of the bench. John appeared a few feet before her, gloves covered his hands, “Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to―”

“It's quite alright,” she said as she rubbed the throbbing skin on her elbow, “But where the fuck did you appear from?”

John's eyes momentarily widened then it was gone, “I came from that narrow door on the left. I really did not mean to scare you like that.”

“Don't worry about it, John,” she picked up the textbook on the grass where it fell, “And no. I do not like science. I really just wanted something different to entertain me today, but I find it boring.”

“What are things you find entertaining then?” he asked as he removed the gloves off of his hand and tossed them on a tool-box like thing at the bottom of the bench, one she hadn’t noticed earlier.

“The gossip section on the newspaper,” she lied easily. Then her left eyebrow twitched, her shoulders moving in a shrug as she stared right ahead. John chuckled, “The gossip section. Hm, interesting.”

“What?”

“What?” he asked back.

“What's that face for?”

“What do you mean?”

“You don't believe me?”

“Well,” he paused, tilting his head and quirked his mouth on the side, “You can always enjoy both. There was no need to hide the fact you fancy reading about science.”

Hide? “What makes you say that?” she asked incredulously.

“Come on. You were pretty invested, reading out loud, even.”

She shook her head with a brief gesture of her hand, “Ah, it's no matter.” She then stood up, dusting the back of her dress and faced him.

“Would you mind showing me around?”

He, too, stood up, “Not at all.”

ivy taglist: @kari-12-10

permanent taglist: @jonesyjonesyjonesy , @jimmys-zeppelin , @dreamersdrowse , @thatiloveyouso , @salixfragilis , @rebel-without-a-zeppelin , @reincarnated70sbaby , @timetraveller4 , @dreamersdrowse , @princesspagey , @ritacaroline @jimmylovesme (let me know if you guys want to be on the permanent taglist or a separate member taglist!)

#john paul jones x ofc #robert plant #led zeppelin #jimmy page #john bonham #led zeppelin fanfiction #ivy #evermore #taylor swift #cabincore #i may or may not have kinkshamed a bit #but can you really blame me...#john paul jones

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putas-in-suffering · 4 years

Text

Expensive Taste

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Escort!Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW 18+ older

Warnings: Language, daddy kink, unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of bodily fluids, pretentious bitches, Miguel being Daddy, Miguel liking being called Daddy (its an important distinction)

Word Count: 3.2K

Summary: Part 2. It’s Monday night’s gala and you decide to make a dull event interesting.

A/N: Sucias! Here’s a second part to our Miguel/Escort saga. You can read the first part here. This is turning into a bit of a series between Miguel and our escort and we are not mad at it. We’ve got at least two more parts written out for this duo so we hope you guys are as thirsty for Cartel Daddy as we are because we’re ready to deliver the goods. Enjoy and share with your fellow sucias! Feedback is the preferred drug for our addiction and greatly appreciated 💖💖

**We added a Part 3! Read it here.

You laughed to hide the disgust, discreetly rolling your made-up eyes in response to the dull droning’s of some Stepford housewife. She was blonde with capped teeth, the fillers in her lips making her look more like a platypus rather than a human. Despite her cheerful attitude, you could tell she was critiquing you…eyeing you with concealed disdain. You were no stranger to those expressions. People often judged you for many different reasons. Tonight, it was because of who you came with.

Miguel had been whisked away from your side, most likely to discuss business. You were enough of a professional to keep yourself busy. Stay hidden, but seen. Engage, but don’t bring attention to yourself. You were there for looks and nothing else. But Tina had trapped you. Talking your ear off about Botox and country clubs and her quaint vacation spots to a little resort across the border. You inwardly cringed at that. The elite loved to talk shit on the country south of the border, but were the first to book first class tickets to experience “the culture”.

You felt a light touch to your arm and tried not to jerk away as Tina questioned you with a silent gaze.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” You asked, sipping on your champagne as you did. The one good thing about these galas was the booze. Always top notch.

“Your dress…where did you get it? It’s so…daring.”

The insult was clear. Poorly hidden within the high-pitch of her sickly sweet voice. You only smiled, having played this game with many women throughout your life. If you had to guess, Tina had been married to her husband for ten plus years. They probably had a couple of kids. She probably took care of those kids, letting her husband work and fuck someone else in peace. She probably did yoga three to four times a week, thinking it would keep her husband around. She did the same with the Botox and fillers. Most likely having a little nip and tuck too. She was pathetic. A dime a dozen in this godforsaken social circle. You didn’t know if you could blame her. But you sure as hell weren’t giving her a free pass either.

“Thanks. I was going to go for something more conservative, kinda like yours. But I realized I’d rather Miguel actually want to fuck me tonight.”

Her face went hard, mouth open in shock at your blatant dig. You kept the smile on your face, even when Miguel saddled up next to you, interrupting your caddy interaction. Tina’s husband joined her as well, his eyes sweeping up your figure in a not so discreet fashion.

“Having fun?” Miguel asked, no doubt feeling the tension between you and the other woman. His hand wrapped around your waist, his fingers pressing into your flesh. He was signaling you, letting you know he knew what game you were playing and he wanted you to wrangle it in.

“Absolutely. I was just telling Tina where I got my dress from.” You addressed the group, enjoying the way the man and woman eyed you. She with contempt. He with lust.

“You want something like that, honey?” The man asked his wife, the childish excitement practically spewing out of his pores.

“She’d look great in it.” You insisted with a devious smile, catching the way Tina pursed her overinflated lips at you. “Just a tip though…you can’t really wear any underwear with this dress so I hope you’re okay with that.”

You swore you saw the husband pop a boner right there while Tina seethed and twisted her face in disgust.

Wench.

Miguel tugged at your arm, clearing his throat and effectively ending the conversation. “Excuse us.”

You followed him as he led you out the glass doors and onto the terrace. It was deserted, the life of the party contained within the walls of the hotel ballroom. He was mindful of your heels, pulling you along but not forcefully. Though you were sure that had more to do with the lurking eyes rather than any form of chivalry.

“Was that necessary?” Miguel questioned, bringing you to a stop in a dimly lit corner.

You could hear the soft melodic tune of crickets over the heinous shit they were playing inside. The cool breeze swept over your skin, soothing the heat that had begun to stir, both from the alcohol and your tense interaction with Tina. You let your gaze take in the man before you. Take in the perfectly coiffed hair, the designer suit, the angular jaw, the intense dark eyes. He was attractive no doubt, which made your job all the more easier.

“She started it.” You retorted, trying hard to keep the smile off your lips. You knew he wasn’t happy with your little display, but he also wasn’t showing that anger outright. He found it amusing. You could see the glint in his eyes.

“I bet she did.” His gaze swept your figure, taking in all the dips and curves. He’d remarked on how beautiful you looked when he’d picked you up earlier in the evening, but now…now he was looking at you as if you were a very expensive steak on a silver platter.

The dress was a soft ivory color, the fabric delicate and beaded. It was sheer, but the nude paneling underneath kept you from exposing any body parts. It was fitted to your figure, the strapless sweetheart neckline doing wonders for your décolletage. It had a slit up the side, but you’d made sure it wasn’t too high. The illusion of nudity was shocking enough. And Tina was right. It was a daring dress, but it encompassed everything you needed it to. Money. Sex. Poise. And you looked damn good in it. It was a physical testament to your working relationship with Miguel. It was shocking. A hidden scandal all dressed in crystals and jewels.

It was amazing what people in this town would turn the other cheek for. Whether some or all knew of your association with Miguel you’d never know, but if you had to take a guess…they probably treated it like his occupation. Coveted but never acknowledged.

“She looked at me like a whore.” You defended. You stepped into his space, abandoning your champagne glass on the ledge of the balcony. You took his own glass and did the same with it, freeing up his hands.

He smirked at your words, the expression sending a lightning bolt of heat straight to your core. “Aren’t you?”

He was smug. And rightfully so. You were already wet. It was as if he could read your mind. He knew without even exploring the space between your thighs what he would find there. He knew what turned you on. It was the same for him. Its why you were the perfect match.

“Your whore.” You whispered against his lips, enjoying the way his jaw clenched. His expression was tight while his chest expanded with a deep breath. His right hand began trailing along the curve of your waist and down to your backside, caressing. You let his hand roam freely, unafraid of the consequence.

“No panties, huh?” He asked, punctuating his words with a fierce grab of your ass. He massaged the flesh, pulling a low moan from your painted lips. You gripped the lapels of his suit, steadying yourself against the rush of desire that now held you prisoner.

“A practical decision.” You replied, leaning further into his body. He let his arms surround you, this time smoothing both of his hands over your lower half. Your eyes fluttered closed, your chest rubbing against his in a silent plea.

“Practical how?” He raised his eyebrow, waiting for your response. His hands began slowly pulling at your dress, shifting the material up your legs and thighs.

“Easier to convince you to fuck me in the middle of a gala.” You teased, tongue darting out to lick seductively at his bearded lips.

He grunted in approval, fingers finding their way to the epicenter of your excitement. He danced along your inner thighs, taking note of the way they clenched. They were already slippery with your arousal, your body getting off just on the anticipation alone. He teased your slit, his eyes watching your face closely. You bit your lip as you tried to shift against his touch, eager for more. You didn’t know what made it so thrilling to sleep with Miguel. It could’ve been a multitude of things. His wealth, his authority, his arrogance. It all combined to make a sensuous elixir. One that had you addicted.

“You’re worth every fucking penny I spend on you.” He breathed against your lips, catching the gasp you released when his fingers finally penetrated you. Your nails dug into his chest, struggling for purchase as he scissored you. His palm rubbed at your clit as he worked you from the inside out.

“Fuck…” You moaned when he curled his fingers against your walls. He was encouraging your body to flood him, coaxing an orgasm to the surface. Who were you to deny him?

“You’d let me do what I want, right?”

You nodded wordlessly, too caught up in his touch to verbalize. His rhythm began to accelerate, forcing your pussy to cling to him in mercy.

“You’d let me fuck you right here for everyone to see. Let them see what my money buys. What I own.”

You couldn’t stop the litany of whimpers and moans that danced off your lips. His words set you ablaze, amplifying the pleasure to insurmountable heights. You forgot about your surroundings. Forgot that the pretentious society of Santo Padre stood only feet away. Your body’s carnal desires were the only thing that fueled you from that moment. That and Miguel’s sinful mouth.

“Turn around.” He demanded lowly, his fingers leaving the confines of your body and trailing the stickiness along your skin.

You didn’t ask questions. You didn’t hesitate. You gave yourself over completely to Miguel, proving to him why you were his favorite…his only. You faced the pristinely manicured courtyard, gripping the balcony ledge as he raised the hem of your dress to expose your lower half. His belt was already undone, his zipper down. He pressed into you, letting you feel the hard line of his cock beneath the fabric of his underwear. You opened your neck up to him in invitation and were instantly rewarded with the delicious graze of his lips and tongue.

“Spread your legs, baby. Let me in.” He whispered against your neck, his hand trailing down your spine. You shivered and obeyed dutifully, letting his body line up with you. The heat of his flesh met yours as he slowly began to push in. No matter how many times or the various ways you’d let Miguel fuck you, he always stretched you with an ache that bordered on painful. The sensation took your breath away.

“Miguel…” You moaned into the night, reaching an arm behind you to thread your fingers into his hair. You tugged at the strands as he sunk all the way into your depths. Your walls throbbed against his cock, feeling the pulse of his blood as he stood completely still. You both savored the moment of raw lust. Savored the erotic connection of your bodies. Savored the risk of fucking with Miguel’s friends and associates just beyond a glass door.

“Tell me what you need.”

You tried to wiggle your hips, but his hands held you firm. You were impaled on his cock, trapped between him and the balcony. You had nowhere to go.

“Move…fuck me, please.” You pleaded, soaking up the kisses he continued to lavish on your neck. His teeth scraped along your earlobe, nibbling as he went.

“Please what?”

You inwardly gloated at his question, realizing the mood he was in. Miguel only ever asked you such a question when he was feeling especially playful and that usually meant a five star orgasm for you.

“Daddy.” You corrected. You could feel his cock twitch inside of you in response and you squeezed him back, relishing the curse he growled out.

Without warning, he thrust hard and deep, pinning you roughly against the concrete ledge. You yelped at the force of it, your breath catching in your throat. He kept up his brutal pace, using slow, measured thrusts. His fingertips dug into your hips. He grunted like a primal beast as he plunged so deep that you were forced onto your tiptoes.

“Oh, fuck…” You bent forward and braced yourself as he continued to ravage you, the angle making your toes curl. You flinched when you felt the sudden pressure of his finger at your clit, his hand unknowingly making its journey up the front of your dress.

“I can feel you, baby. You’re ready. Be a good girl and cum, yeah?” He taunted.

Miguel’s flare for pillow talk was about as masterful as his cock. His mouth was an instrument. An instrument he used with expert precision. He knew when to strike. Knew when to utilize his talent to make you cum harder than any other time before.

You squeezed your eyes shut as a cyclone of pleasure swept you up and immobilized you. Your entire body shook with uncontrolled tremors as wave after treacherous wave of climax assailed your body. You felt him still inside you. He could feel every swirl of your hips, every earth-shattering shockwave that ricocheted off his cock. You gasped for air as his finger continued to torture your clit, despite your sudden oversensitivity. He prolonged your orgasm, praising the way you squeezed him.

“That’s it. Just like that.” He talked you through it, tenderly caressing your cheek as if he wasn’t still splitting you in two. His hips resumed their pace, the sound of him entering you now amplified by your release. You grasped onto his forearm as his hand reached around to squeeze at your throat. His hold wasn’t hard, but it was enough to make you feel unsteady on your four inch heels. The ledge dug into your hips as he rutted into you, his own hips stuttering in overwhelming ecstasy.

“Cum inside me…fill me up.” You said between each ragged breath you took.

“Fuck,” He cursed, plastering your body to his as he finished. The flood of warmth filled you, his body spasming with each spurt of his cum. There wasn’t an iota of space left between your bodies as he used you, painting your insides and filling you to capacity. His forehead rested on the back of your neck, his breathing beginning to slow as he floated back into the moment.

His tired chuckle made you laugh, the vibrations making you both hiss. You ran your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck, your touch much softer than the previous time. He carefully eased himself out of your clutches, but he didn’t let your dress fall back into place. Instead, he ran a finger over your abused slit, slipping past and coating the appendage. You gasped at the unexpected intrusion, but let him do as he pleased.

A second later he was removing his finger and spinning you around, your dress now covering any modesty you had left. You met his gaze, seeing his hair slightly out of place and a corner of his mouth lifted in a devious smirk. He raised the finger, letting you see the mixture of you and him that covered it. He smeared it onto your lips.

“Beautiful…” He whispered, nodding in approval when you immediately licked the concoction from your lips. He pulled you in for a kiss, his tongue instantly seeking entrance into your mouth. You gave it, letting him taste the champagne and the flavor of your combined releases. You pulled away breathless and satiated, the drunken high of your coupling still very prominent.

“So should I not wear panties from now on?” You teased, stepping back to allow him the room to adjust his pants and shirt. He composed himself, tucking in his shirt as he laughed at your question. You reached up and fixed his hair, noting the hints of grey intertwined in the inky locks.

“Something to think about.” He replied matter-of-factly, eyebrow raised as if pondering the pros of such a decision. He let you fuss with his hair, black eyes fixated on your chest. “That is quite the dress. A little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. But if I’m going to look like a whore then at least it’s an expensive one. Right, Daddy?” You winked, trailing a painted nail over his lips and down to adjust the collar of his shirt.

He shook his head and chuckled, gaze now scanning the area for people. “Come on.” He gestured to the ballroom, leading you with a hand to your lower back.

You thanked him as he opened the door for you, letting you pass with a subtle pat to your ass. He maneuvered through the crowd with you, stopping momentarily to greet the occasional acquaintance. You’d grabbed another flute of champagne, standing silent beside Miguel as he spoke with a local politician. Your eyes found Tina’s across the room, a scowl still permanently etched onto her face. You brought a finger up to your lips and made a show of wiping the sides of your mouth, your message clear. She looked appalled, beady eyes bouncing between you and Miguel as if she was putting the pieces of a puzzle together. You took a hearty sip of your drink and waved, pleased when she shook her head and walked off in a huff.

“Behave. I don’t pay you to ruin my relationships with the locals.” Miguel warned in your ear, his arm back around your waist in a possessive embrace.

“No, you pay me to suck your dick and swallow your cum.” You countered.

You took your own kind of sick pleasure out of shocking and sassing Miguel. It was what made all your encounters with him so damn fun. The man’s buttons were easy to push. Some days he played along, like today. Other times he fought against you, intent on punishing you for your transgressions.

“Speaking of,” You continued, handing off your glass to him. “Your cum is currently running down my leg so I’m gonna go to the ladies’ room.”

His eyes flickered down to your thighs hidden beneath your dress, a flash of desire sweeping across his face. He nodded, fixing you with a firm stare. “There and back. No detours.”

“Yes sir.” You mocked, taking his hand in yours.

This time, he wasn’t amused.

“I think it’s time I remind you what your purpose is.” He responded coolly, squeezing your hand back in a deceivingly tight hold. It was an obvious warning that he wanted you to heed, but you’d do no such thing. Playful Miguel was fun, but you yearned for that darker, twisted side that was bred from running a cartel operation.

So, you leaned forward and kissed him on the corner of his mouth, letting your tongue dart out to taste him. You patted his chest with a placating expression, surely sealing your date with the devil later.

“I can’t wait.”

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#miguel galindo #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo x you #miguel galindo imagine #miguel galindo fanfiction #miguel galindo fanfic #mayans mc #mayans mc fx

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ratedbangtann · 4 years

Text

Picture Perfect || KTH

As a plus size model, you're used to your fair share of ignorance and shaming. By now, it's water off a duck's back; you're a strong woman, hardened to it. But then there were those on the other end of the scale, who simply adored you and your body. Much like photographer, Kim Taehyung...

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Plus Size Reader (but please feel free to enjoy if you aren’t!) Word count: 7.8k Warnings: Fatphobia, derogatory terms, rude assholes, shy Tae (at first), slight manipulation (but opportunity to back out), taeconda, oral sex (m receiving), light spanking, BBW fetishizing, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex

A/N: Welcome to another plus size reader fic! If you don’t consider yourself to be plus size, don’t worry - feel free to enjoy it anyway!

***************************************

“You’re joking, right?” the ignorant voice of the photographer bellowed through the studio. You stood with your arms folded over your chest, pissed off at the vile and sleazy guy in front of you. Your agent beside you positively seething too. She had got you this gig, and the brand owners were more than happy to have you involved. And yet this prick…

“Problem, Mr. Carter?” she asked, eyebrow raised.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. This is a lingerie shoot,” he said, incredulous as if his point were obvious.

“Yes, it is,” she stated, clearly impatient.

“I’m not photographing… her in lingerie,” he looked toward you in disgust, nose scrunched and forehead creasing all the way up to his non-existent hairline.

“Got a problem with me, have you?” you piped up. Already today you had had your hair and make-up done, and you were in your first set under your bathrobe ready for the shoot. And now, this asshole was refusing to photograph you as if it were his shoot?

“Yeah, as a matter of fact. Don’t particularly wanna see some fat chick in a thong.”

Oh, how your blood boiled.

“Mr. Carter, is something the matter?” A gentleman you recognised to be the lingerie company’s co-CEO wandered over, with his business partner in tow. From what you could gather, they were a married couple; Cynthia designed the lines whilst Carlisle handled the business. They were a great team, and rapidly becoming some of the biggest names in the lingerie business.

“Sir, I’m sorry but I’m not photographing this. You must have a more attractive model…”

You’d dealt with pricks like this through your entire career; assholes who wrinkled their nose in disgust at your curves, your beautiful jiggly bits, your stretch marks, cellulite… You’d had to deal with being photoshopped to within an inch of your life and cut out of group shots completely. You’d been turned down for editorial spreads and commercials alike since day one. You’d grown a thick skin to it but it still pissed you off when someone was just as rude to you as this dickhead.

You loved your body, were proud of it. Sure, you were plus size. You weren’t skinny and slim or even simply just “thicc” but you were beautiful, and you’d made quite the name for yourself in the modelling world.

“I don’t see anything unattractive about Ms. _____,” Carlisle looked you up and down, turning back to Mr. Carter; Robert, you thought you heard someone say.

“I’m not photographing a fat girl!” he almost yelled, his fragile masculinity in tatters confronted by three women and a very in-tune and open minded man. You half expected him to stomp his foot like a child having a tantrum.

“Well then we’ll just have to find somebody who will, won’t we?” Carlisle smiled a sickly sweet smile at Robert. The kind that could rot your teeth.

“What do you mean?” he asked, his face turning red with rage.

“You’re fired, Mr. Carter. I suggest an attitude adjustment if you’d ever like to work in this town again,” Carlisle remained calm, gesturing to the door. The livid little man stormed out of the room, grabbing his kit along the way and slamming the door to the studio behind him, the few members of staff scattered around watching on in silence. “I’m so sorry about him. Ms. _____,” he turned to you, apologetic smile on his handsome face.

“That’s quite alright, he’s not my first ignorant asshole,” you smiled back.

“Shit, where the hell are we going to find a photographer at such short notice? _____ is already made up, we only rented the studio for the day and we could-“ Cynthia was panicking, rambling with her hands flinging about through the air as she paced back and forth.

“Honey, honey, relax… Let me make some calls. I know this guy, an old friend of mine. I’m sure he’s in town. Give me ten minutes,” he steadied her movements with his large hand on her shoulder, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she took a deep breath. How cute.

Carlisle left the room, phone pressed to his ear as he tried to get hold of whoever he knew. Cynthia turned to you, then.

“I really am sorry for that guy… If I’d have known he was like that I wouldn’t have hired him,” she scratched the back of her neck.

“Don’t worry about it, Cynthia, I’ve had a lot worse. Right, Mia?” Your agent beside you nodded with an unsatisfactory grimace on her face, recalling the amount of times she’d had to find you other shoots after being cast aside.

“90 percent the male specimen, of course,” she grumbled. Ah, Mia; her opinions were nothing if not colourful. Cynthia chuckled though, nodding in understanding.

“Well we’re honoured to have you model for us, ____. The new line is inclusive of all sizes and shapes, some to accentuate parts of the body whilst others to help discourage insecurities. We could think of no one better to showcase our hard work,” she smiled so brightly, genuinely excited to have you on board.

“Thank you, it’s a pleasure! The sets are stunning, I’ve been a fan of your brand for a long time now.” The three of you stood chatting away for a little while, now with nothing to do until a photographer could be found.

“Honey, he’s on his way,” Carlisle stepped into the room with a smirk on his face. “I told you I could handle it.”

“And this is why I married you,” she laughs, pecking his lips as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Oh, how sweet… If only you had the time to find yourself a kind and affectionate man like that. Alas, your career didn’t allow time for much of a social life.

“He’s the other side of town so it could still be a little while, but what do you say we get some drinks from the Starbucks across the street and some lunch in the meantime?” Carlisle suggested. Well, that was one way to kill some time…

*****

“Ah, Taehyung! How are you, man?” Carlisle’s voice was loud and boisterous as he chewed on his muffin, standing up to greet whoever had just walked into the studio. You turned to look, but Carlisle was a tall and broad man, covering most of the photographer’s frame.

“Doing well, Carl, how are you?” He sounded excited, like he was happy to see his friend once again.

“Yeah, pretty good! Have you met the wife yet?”

“Can’t say I have…”

“Ah, you must. Come on over… Cynthia!” he called to her, her head perking up from the table and chairs you were sat at covered in Starbucks wrappers. “Taehyung, this is my wonderful wife and designer of all our products; Cynthia Blake.”

Carlisle had shown the young photographer over to your table, now standing at the head and looking down at Cynthia, who stood up to shake Taehyung’s hand. He seemed a relatively shy looking man, camera bag slung over his back, black beret in place on his head. His hair curled out from underneath it in wild tendrils, framing his golden face.

He looked more like he’d be interested in artistic photography of scenery and still-life objects, judging by his clothing. Wide-leg cream pants, a black plain t-shirt and a brown suede waistcoat didn’t quite scream fashion photography, but you’d learned not to judge someone so soon in your years in modelling.

“Kim Taehyung, miss. Pleased to meet you, finally. Carlisle has told me a lot about you,” he bowed his head as he shook her hand. And then he was being introduced to Mia and yourself.

“…and this is ____, our model for the day,” Cynthia proudly showed you off to him, still sat in your bathrobe with full hair and make-up.

Your eyes met, and suddenly you could see his face so much clearer. Those beautiful big round eyes, that’s you could now see were slightly different in shape; one double lid, one mono-lid. His jawline that curved delicately and sharpened at his chin, 5 o’clock shadow evident. The freckles that landed on the end of his nose and in the waterline of his eyes; gentle little beauty marks…

You hadn’t noticed his eyes widen. It was almost like recognition, like he knew you from a past life. But he kept his composure and mumbled a shy hello, quieter than when he’d greeted Cynthia.

“Hi, Taehyung was it?” you shook his hand, noting the long fingers adorned in many rings and just how soft his palm was in yours. You tried to shake the feeling of attraction that was bubbling away inside you but it was difficult; you weren’t sure you had ever seen a man so devastatingly handsome.

“Y-yeah… pleasure to meet you. You look… stunning,” he chuckled nervously and turned back to Carlisle. “I’ll just need a few minutes to set up and we can get started.”

“Yeah, take your time, Tae,” he grinned, showing him over to the backdrops and light fixtures.

“He likes you,” Mia nudged your side, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Oh, shut up, he’s just shy…”

“______, he basically undressed you with his eyes! You saw it too, right Cynthia?” she turned for backup. Cynthia sat back down with a smile on her face.

“Oh, I saw it.”

“How professional of you both,” you teased, shaking your head with laughter. “I’m going to ask make up to do a touch up. I think lunch may have ruined my lips.”

Ignoring their little jeers and smug comments, you headed off to the little room to the left, filled with the garments you would be modelling throughout the day and a little dresser for the make-up artist to work her magic on you.

*****

“Alright, _____ if I could have you sat on the stool in the middle there… perfect. Cynthia, what are we achieving with this set?” Taehyung asked, wanting to know how he should ask you to convey the white lingerie with pretty white fluffy parts dangling from various places.

“Innocence and purity. The set itself is called ‘purity’, so something like that?” she gave her directions, and you worked your magic.

Now that you had taken off your robe and were parading around in the flattering white set, you felt your confidence sky-rocketing as it always did during a shoot. Nothing made you feel more powerful than having all eyes on you; especially in some of the prettiest and most body-friendly lingerie you had ever seen.

“Beautiful,” Taehyung commented, crouching down to get the perfect shots and play around with the lighting a little. Cynthia and Carlisle stood to the side, watching each photo pop up on the laptop set up. “It’s nice to work with a professional, you seem to need very little direction,” he complimented.

“She’s been in this game long enough,” Mia answered for you, you staying completely composed as he snapped away, flash dazzling.

“If you could just stand up for me, we’ll get rid of the stool there to get a few more shots of the lingerie itself.” Taehyung fiddled with some settings on his camera, while a staff member removed the stool from the shot. “Fantastic, if you could face the camera for a few, and then turn, we’ll get every angle.”

It was amazing, really; Taehyung staying as professional as composed as he was. Because Mia and Cynthia had been right. He was into you, very much so. The second he saw you, he thought you were the most beautiful creature on God’s green earth. Watching you pose so innocently and with absolute picturesque tranquillity in the most beautiful underwear he could imagine was affecting him more than the artist inside him would like to admit.

He’d done hundreds of shoots over the years, including nude and lingerie shoots and never, ever had he had such a problem focussing as he did today. But then, none of those shoots were of you.

“Tae, I think that’s plenty for Purity. _____, would you mind getting changed again for me, love? The deep green set will look beautiful with your skin tone, I suggest that one next,” Cynthia called to you.

“Ah, Evergreen?” you asked.

“That’s the one!” she clapped excitedly, filled with utter glee seeing her collection finally being tried out on a model. It was all becoming real for her; her second line of lingerie would be hitting the shelves very soon.

You headed back into the little room to change, Evergreen being a little more revealing and sultrier than Purity had been. The bra was a stunning forest green lace with almost a half-corset attached – fantastic support and helped to smooth out insecurities in the back. The briefs were high waisted and made in the same lace, with suspender clips dangling from them. And of course, to match; a stunning set of black suspenders, heels and a mesh black robe to go over the top. Modest, but not modest enough.

When you walked back out, Taehyung audibly gasped. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, the blood travelling south. He averted his gaze, willing himself to calm down. Mia giggled to herself; aw, bless him, she thought.

“I knew it would look beautiful against your skin tone!” Cynthia clapped.

“Um, okay… can we have the stool back please, backdrop change, the ivy to drape over the back. _____, if you wouldn’t mind heading back over to the set and taking a seat,” Taehyung didn’t properly look up at you, giving you general directions and pretending to fiddle with his camera. And now you started to see it…

He was nervous.

The staff draped the ivy artistically over the backdrop, letting it hang down behind you to fit in with the evergreen vibe. You sat back down, getting into a slightly different position than before.

“What kind of look are we going for this time, Cyn?” you asked. This wasn’t going to be another innocent look.

“Um, more like a wood nymph, at one with nature, a little temptress perhaps?” she asked, whilst a hair stylist faffed with fitting little daisies into your hair.

Again, you did as instructed; dark, sultry eyes stared into the camera, as if tempting a human into the forest. You looked absolutely delectable, and it was causing huge issues for poor Taehyung. Well, one particularly huge issue. Thankfully for him, the way he crouched to take your photo hid it well. But it made life so much more difficult.

Mentally, he was cursing himself. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d worked with hundreds of models. Why were you the only one he’d ever…

In fact, for the rest of the shoot, the poor guy struggled. Each new set of lingerie posed new challenges, showing off your gorgeous body in new and different ways with different expressions and stories to accompany each one.

“Beautiful, truly! Wow. These photos will look stunning on the website!” Cynthia was positively beaming by the end. “That’s a wrap!”

Taehyung breathed a sigh of relief as he knelt down to start taking his camera apart, slotting the bits and pieces into each compartment of his bag. You simply stepped off the set, heading over to the laptop to flick through the photos.

Mia, however, was being her devious self. She had seen the photos, knew they were stunning. But she had also seen Taehyung’s reactions to each set, each pose. She knew about his big problem, and found it oh, so amusing to meddle.

“Taehyung, may I have a moment of your time?” she asked him, standing over him with a large smile on her face. Taehyung swallowed hard and nodded, standing upright to follow her over to the table at the back of the room where you’d earlier been sat drinking your Starbucks.

“I wondered if I may ask what kind of work you usually do? I know this was a favour for a friend of ours, but what is your style?” she asked him, pulling a chair for him to sit opposite her.

“Usually editorial fashion shoots, a lot of scenery and travel in my spare time though,” he smiled sweetly, a little more comfortable now that he no longer had his problem nor did he have to focus on you and your beautiful curves, the stunning lingerie, thinking of what he would do given the chance…

No, Tae. You’re drifting again. Focus, he told himself.

“I see, it’s just… _____ has been looking for just the right photographer to do some nude shots. Tasteful of course, we’re not talking playboy but…”

Tae’s blood ran cold. The flush in his cheeks must have drained, skin paling at the thought. Mia was still talking, but he could barely listen.

“I mean she’s been wanting to focus on a body positivity campaign for a while, but she hasn’t quite figured out who to trust to photograph her in just the right way, do you know what I mean?”

Tae cleared his throat, bringing himself back down to reality. “Uh yeah, sure…”

“Your shots today were stunning and I’m sure she agrees. I was thinking perhaps you could give those photos a go? You can be as artistic or as simple as you like with them, but I trust your judgement. Googled you to check out your other work too. Impressive, truly.” Mia was rambling on, but Tae could hardly take in a word of what she was saying.

“Th-thank you…” he mumbled, forcing a smile.

“So... are you interested?” she asked, “we can draw up a contract quite easily, _____ is very easy to work with.”

“S-sure… Yeah, okay. Sounds great,” he agreed, all whilst his head was screaming at him for being a moron. If he couldn’t control his damn hard on today, how on earth would he cope with full nudity? You were utterly bewitching. This couldn’t end well, surely?

“Fantastic! I’ve got some calls to make, would you mind letting her know you’re up for it?” she asked, pulling her phone from her back pocket and already standing up and sauntering out of the door to make her calls in the hall. Tae didn’t have a chance to object.

So instead, he got up to find you. You were no longer working your way through the photos, and the majority of the set had been cleared away. You were nowhere to be seen.

“Carlisle, where did _____ go?” he asked the couple who were packing things into cases.

“Oh, she’s in the back room, probably packing her things away, changing. Do you need something?” he asked.

“Her agent said she wanted another shoot with me, I just wanted a word about it,” he nodded with a tight lipped smile.

“Oh, well just go knock, honey. I’m sure she’d be happy to chat,” Cynthia smiled motioning toward the door you’d walked through only moments ago. With that, she slung a satchel over her shoulder and picked up a case of props and set pieces. “We’re off, we have so much to do. Really thought, Taehyung, thank you so, so much for helping out today.”

“Yeah, thanks man. Such short notice too, you really did us a favour. The photos are beautiful. I’ll drop your cheque over to wherever you’re staying, just text me the address. I’m sorry we can’t hang out this evening. You free Thursday?” Carlisle was busy picking up cases and trunks and bags to leave with as he spoke, but Tae knew just how genuine he was about meeting.

“Yeah, Thursday evening would be great, perhaps dinner if you’re both available?” he smiled sweetly.

“Absolutely, we’ll be in touch! Thanks so much, Tae! Bloody life saver,” Carlisle patted his back, scurrying out of the studio along with his wife and the rest of the staff that were left behind.

For a moment, Tae stood in the silence, letting himself breathe deep. He was readying himself to talk to you, to approach you after he’d spent nearly four hours photographing you in skimpy and gorgeous outfits. Christ, how was he ever going to do a nude photoshoot for you?

Professionalism. That’s all it took.

He sauntered over to the door you were hidden behind and knocked perhaps a little heavier than intended. He heard something clatter inside and a quiet “shit” as if you’d dropped something.

“Yep, come in!” you called when you’d picked the rail up. Thankfully you’d already packed the lingerie into a small case on the floor – freebies from Cynthia as extra payment – so it was just the empty rail that had tipped. The door clicked open and shut again and you turned, expecting to see Mia.

“Oh, sorry… I assumed you were dressed. I’ll come back,” Taehyung’s deep voice sounded so shocked to see you still in the lingerie set from the last photos; a pretty deep purple set; high waisted purple mesh thong with white daisies dotted all over and a pretty bralette with surprising support to match. Cynthia had called it Asters, a type of purple daisy to combine the two elements together.

“Wait, it’s fine. I mean, I’ve been wearing… not much else all afternoon,” you chuckled, unashamed. Tae couldn’t really argue with that. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, no, just… well your agent was talking to me, about a shoot you wanted to do. She said I should ask you about it?” he averted his gaze but stayed in the doorway. You were a little too close for his own comfort; the room you were in was no bigger than an average closet, and the dressing table took up most of it, let alone the rail.

“Oh, she did?” you asked, taking a seat on the stool in front of the table. “What shoot?”

He really couldn’t look you in the eye, let alone anywhere else. If his problem arose again, there was no way of hiding it. He did his best to direct his through process to professionalism once again.

“Yeah, some kind of artsy nude shoot, for a body positivity campaign?”

You watched in amusement as he looked everywhere in the tiny room other than at you. This is exactly what Mia had been talking about earlier. Halfway through the shoot, she’d handed you a bottle of water and told you to watch him; he couldn’t look you in the eye. He really was attracted to you. How cute.

The more you looked, the more you had noticed it. He blushed at the slightest eye contact, willing himself to calm the hell down with some deep breaths. And each time sent a tiny little thrill through you, so you played up to you, practically ‘making love to the camera’ as the old industry professionals used to say.

“Oh, that? Hmm, yeah. I don’t know about that anymore…” you lied. You knew exactly what you were doing, leading the horse to water but… would he drink?

“Oh… She said you were really excited about it, I just thought-“

“Yeah I don’t think people would like it. No one wants to see me naked,” you scoffed. Another lie. You had a huge online following who would love the positivity it spread, congratulate you on it, call you a queen and a goddess.

“I-I’m sure that’s not true,” he stuttered, eyes flicking up to meet yours just for a second. He blushed again and you had to do your very best not to giggle.

“I guess I just don’t feel too sexy, lately. Despite this,” you gestured to your attire, his gaze following your hand. Honestly, like a moth to a flame…

He realised what he’d done as his gaze reached your ample thighs and quickly readjusted his view, back up to a very interesting spot on the wall above your head.

“Well, um… I’m sorry you feel like that, you really are sexy,” he mumbled. Bingo.

“Do you think so?” you asked innocently, feigning disbelief.

“Y-yeah… I mean, your photos today came out really, um… beautiful.”

“Well, you’re just a good photographer,” you laughed softly, watching him so carefully.

“Photographers are only as good as their subjects, Miss _____,” he smiled at you then, sweet and unmenacing. This guy was too pure for his own good, surely. “Truthfully, you’re a beautiful woman. You had so much confidence on set today, I had no idea you weren’t feeling it…”

You smiled down at your hands in your lap, purposefully twiddling them before placing your palms flat on your thighs, rubbing them up and down slowly. His eyes followed them, his jaw hanging open just a little as he lost himself in thought.

Thoughts of how soft your thighs might feel under his touch, how goosebumps might raise at the feeling of his rings on the warm flesh. Thoughts of how soft and supple you would feel, how pretty and puffy you might be between them…

“D-do you think I should do the campaign?” you interrupted his train of thought.

“Definitely,” he said with such conviction. He hadn’t meant to; not really. But… here he was. And he stood his ground.

“And you’d be okay with that?” you asked, innocently.

“Of course, I’m interested in making art.” He tried to sound firm, confident but the little quiver of his bottom lip gave him away.

“Making art… with me?” Oh, you were really pushing him now. Was that a hint of seduction he heard in your tone? Or was he imagining things?

“S-sure…” he wavered. “I’d be honoured.” Why did he say that?! He mentally cursed himself.

“Honoured?” you giggled to yourself, “that’s sweet. I’m sure you’re quite the artist.” He shrugged, starting to feel a little claustrophobic in the small room with you, being so close and so pathetically entranced by the smallest things you did.

When you stood up, he practically tumbled backwards, back hitting the door with a thump.

“Oh, shoot… are you okay?” you asked, rushing forward to help him as he groaned at the sudden contact. But that didn’t help the situation at all, sending him into further panic at the now close proximity.

“F-fine, sorry…”

“Taehyung, you look nervous…” you softened your voice, stepping towards him with mostly concern on your face, but just a hint of playfulness. He dare not believe that’s what he saw though.

“I-I…” he stuttered, not knowing what to say and oh god, you were so close to him now. So close he could smell your perfume; something expensive, perhaps Chanel?

“What is it?” you pressed, but he was starting to lose his resolve. He had to say something, surely. Anything… Right now, he just looked like a bumbling moron.

“I-I just, um…”

“Tell me, maybe I can help…”

“Fuck, you just… you turn me on, okay? Fuck,” he cursed, looking away from you to stare into the top corner of the room, feeling ashamed of himself. He was better than this. A professional. What had you reduced him to?

You simply smirked, stepping even closer to him, until your chests were almost touching.

“I can see that…” you whispered, eyes drifting down. Low and behold, there was the outline of a rather big problem. Tae couldn’t even look, knowing exactly what you were referring to and feeling nothing but shame.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry I swear I’m more professional than this, I just-“ You pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him and his eyes went wide, looking down at the digit with surprise.

“You turn me on too,” you smirk, biting down on your bottom lip, still painted from the shoot.

“I-I… I do?”

“Oh yes… Wanna know how much?” you asked cheekily, wrapping your fingers around his wrist, slowly guiding his hand but giving him plenty of opportunity to pull away should he want to. But he didn’t want to. Not at all.

You coaxed his fingertips to grade over the mesh of the lingerie, pressing them to your mound where a tiny little patch of wetness had seeped through the cotton lining inside and stained the material in a dewy wetness.

“Oh, shit…” he breathed, finally looking down at where his hand just barely touched you.

“And that’s just the outside,” you taunted, bottom lip pressed between your teeth. He looked down into your eyes for a moment, wondering if he should… But you answered the question for him, before he’d even had a chance to think it.

Hurriedly, you pressed your lips to his, noting immediately how soft they felt against your own and how hesitant they were in that first split second. But in the end his reaction was visceral, softened lips pushing against yours with all the pent up sexual tension he’d been harbouring for hours.

The hand you barely had a grasp on snaked around your waist, pulling you to him and colliding your full and soft body into his. He wanted to feel every inch of you, every part he’d been photographing all day. And you were going to let him.

When you didn’t immediately shove him away from you, he conceded to his own desires, letting himself become completely hazed with lust. He ran his tongue along your bottom lip, testing the waters before he went in to totally devour your mouth. Pressed against him this way, you could feel his body responding. Of course, he was already stiff beneath those cream trousers, but pushing against your thigh you could feel the size of him, mouth watering. You wondered if perhaps he might like to feel just what your mouth could do for him.

Wasting no more time, you pushed the suede waistcoat from his shoulders, slipping it off and throwing it haphazardly over the rail to your left. And not forgetting that adorable beret too, his hair flopping freely in beautiful curls that fell into his hooded eyes. His assault on your lips never faltered, his grip on your waist only loosening to remove the waistcoat.

You pulled barely millimetres away from his lips, hands gripping at his shirt to at least keep his chest pressed to yours as they both heaved with breathlessness.

“Wanna taste you…” you whispered, hot breath fanning over his lips. Your filthy words sent a thrill down his spine, and before he could utter another syllable your hands were dropping to his zipper, pulling it down and popping the button on his trousers. The loose fit fell down high thighs unaided, pooling at his feet to reveal a pair of light grey boxers, his cock straining marvellously against them.

Gently you ghosted your fingertips over his length, earning a shudder and a sharp intake of breath. “Shit,” he whispered, chasing your lips again with a frantic kiss, large hands holding onto your cheeks to stop you from evading him.

You pushed your hand into the waistband, wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock and feeling just how thick he was; your fingers couldn’t meet no matter how much you stretched them.

“_____, are you sure you want this?” he asked, doing his very best not to rut his hips into your hand.

“I’ve never slept with someone I worked with before, but absolutely. You’ve been driving me crazy, Taehyung…” you whined, slowly pumping your hand along his shaft, neglecting his tip. “Do you want me?” As silly question really, given your current state.

“So much,” he groaned, the pleasure of your fist starting to affect him. You giggled mischievously and dropped to your knees, leaving him staring down at you as you pulled his underwear down, freeing his dick with a triumphant bounce. He really was above average, and the idea of swallowing what you could was making you drool.

In no mood to waste time teasing, you enveloped the first few inches in warm wetness, suckling as if he were the sweetest lollipop despite the salty tang of pre-cum. Your tongue swirled around him a few times before lying flat under his shaft so you could lean further forward to take more of his length.

Above you, Tae was stunned into silence, heavy breaths all that wold pass his lips. He watched you like a hawk, terrified that should he look away, you and your wonderful mouth would disappear. His hands braced himself on the door behind him, keeping him upright as pleasure ripped through his body.

You took what you could into his throat before your gag reflex started to show itself, having to still use an entire fist around his base to completely envelope him. Your first twisted and pumped in rhythm with the way your head bobbed on his cock, every so often hollowing your cheeks to create a harsher drag that had him hissing between clenched teeth.

“A-ah, shit…” he cried, his head throwing back against the door with a thud and squeezing his eyes shut. “How are you this, good? Jesus…”

The giggle that his cock muffled sent a new wave of desire flooding through him. He didn’t even know that were possible, but somehow the more time you spent sucking, pumping and sheathing his cock in your mouth and throat, the more his grip on reality loosened and he found himself swimming in arousal.

It didn’t seem fair that he was getting such incredible head whilst you were sat before him, already soaking your panties and being devoid of any stimulation; where were his manners? If he was unable to be a professional right now, he would at least a gentleman.

Begrudgingly, he pushed at your shoulders, hands finding yours that gripped his thighs, nails digging into the flesh. He pulled you back to a standing position and threw himself at you, lips and teeth crashing against your own desperately.

“Hardly fair that I get all the attention here, is it sweat pea?” The pet name was so innocent in any other context, but here and now you heard it very differently. His tone was gravelling and darker than before, shrouded in animalistic need.

“Oh, I don’t mind. You did us a favour today, after all. Think of it as… extra payment?” You grinned, hands gripping the black t-shirt he still wore and eyes scanning the lips millimetres from yours you’d just been attached to.

“No need, love. Carlisle is paying a bonus. You owe me nothing at all.”

“Ah, well in that case perhaps you should just fuck me then, hm? Even the score a little…” you laughed, attaching yourself back to those beautiful lips for another heated kiss. The room around you felt even smaller this way, perhaps because the body heat radiating off the pair of you was making the tiny little room unbearably stuffy.

He pushed you backwards until your butt hit the edge of the dressing table, stool kicked underneath it. Taehyung never retracted his mouth from yours, not even when he started to fiddle with the straps of the bralette and pull them down your arms. With no clasps to undo, he simply pulled the material over your head, letting your stunning breasts free for him to grab with both hands, mouth dipping down to immediately suck at one of your nipples.

“Mmf, Taehyung…” you moaned, breathier than you’d expected but the feeling had stolen your breath away completely. Your past lovers had been so greedy with no real idea what they were doing, frantically attempting to hold as much of your as they could in their hands, but Taehyung had a purpose, like he was far more skilled and perhaps used to the company of a much larger girl. Every swirl of his tongue, every tactful squeeze of your breasts was used almost like a weapon against you.

In such close proximity you could feel his erection against your tummy, pressing against the softness. You wondered if he liked that; the way your extra pounds felt against his still-wet shaft. He seemed to enjoy your body the way it was, rolls and all, so perhaps the feeling of your chub on his aching cock was nothing short of heavenly.

Your suspicions were confirmed when his hips rocked against you, stomach rippling under his movements as he groaned against your nipple, biting down on the hardened nub just a little.

“You like that, huh? Like how my body feels against you?” you teased, stroking the curls out of his eyes with gentility. He just growled in response, sucking harder at your nipple to have you crying out. You took that as a yes. “Tae please… Need more,” you begged, the wetness between your thighs growing increasingly uncomfortable.

Without detaching his lips from your breast, he shoved a hand into your panties, fingers immediately coated in slick as he pressed two to your clit and began to swirl them in circles. Every single move felt calculated, but they couldn’t possibly be, with how fast things were moving and how quickly he responded to you. He must just be insanely skilled or intuitive. You weren’t sure you’d be able to let this man out of sight after today.

He kept up his ministrations for a little while before growing tired of waiting, impatience getting the better of him. His hands were on your waist and flipping you around quickly, forcing you to hold yourself up on your elbows while he made light work of slipping the high-waisted thong from your body.

The sight before him lit a fire in the pit of his stomach, and he couldn’t stop himself from lightly swatting at your exposed ass, marvelling the way it jiggled and bouncing at the slightest touch. For good measure, you wiggled your hips a little, cheeks rippling to the effect.

“Wow…” he sighed, hands roaming over your cheeks and letting one dip between your legs, parting them enough to slip two fingers through your folds and into your entrance. You groaned at the feeling, finally, finally, having something inside you. Sure, you’d prefer his cock, but he had to prep you. He was so large, you had to get used to something before he let himself bury deep inside you. And lord, the rings on his fingers felt heavenly.

“Fuck, you’re so tight…” he whispered, pushing a third finger into you and spreading you open.

“Tae, please. I’m ready, please…” you pleaded, pushing your hips back against his fingers as he curled them inside you. A jolt of electricity shot through your pelvis, forcing you forward again as Taehyung chuckled darkly behind you.

“Where’s that confidence gone, hm? Did you think you were in control?” he jeered, curling his fingers again and making your legs shake with pleasure. “Beg me again. Beg for my cock.”

You didn’t even hesitate.

“Please! Please, I need it. Need your cock, Tae. Please…” You tried to keep your voice down, aware there might still be people outside but only Taehyung knew the only person who hadn’t left yet was Mia. And she was making phone calls outside.

“You sound beautiful when you’re needy, love. But I have to admit, I don’t think I could wait much longer,” he confessed, now lining the tip of his cock with your entrance after pulling his fingers from you. You mewled a pathetic response, interrupted by the satisfying stretch of him pushing into you.

“Oh, my god…” you hummed, his hands gripping the flesh of your hips so tight he could leave bruises. He kept himself composed enough to slowly but surely bottom out, wanting nothing more than to smack his hips against yours. But he was a gentleman, and he would remain thoughtful enough to keep your comfortable.

You felt yourself falling deeper into the throws of bliss as he dragged himself out again slowly, only to push back a little faster and finding a rhythm that felt unbelievably good for both of you. Your spine tingled with elation, every deep thrust hitting just where you needed him to. His skill seemed to transcend not only from foreplay but to fucking you silly too.

“You’ve driven me… mmf… fucking crazy all day,” he muttered, articulated with a particularly hard thrust. In his head, Taehyung was counting his blessings and thanking his lucky stars that he could be balls deep in you right now. Had you never made any kind of move on him, his desires would have merely fizzled out. God bless your confidence.

He leaned over your back a little more, pistoning his hips as you pushed up to meet him, his lips trailing along your shoulder and neck. You couldn’t stop the soft moans escaping your lips, hand coming to rest on the back of his neck, to hold him against you and tangle in the ends of his curls as he kissed along the flesh.

“Every set of lingerie… fuck, it looked so good on you. You’re so beautiful, so fucking beautiful…” he mumbled between kisses, holding your hips still to slap his against you. The sounds filling the tiny room were some of the lewdest you had ever heard, absolutely hypnotic.

Having Taehyung looming over you this way, fucking himself so far into you and sloppily biting and sucking at your shoulder and neck, you could have sworn you were dreaming. It was too perfect, felt too damn good. Never had a man made you orgasm simply with penetration, but you could feel it building, his skill and his size playing huge parts in your undoing.

His thrusts never faltered, never once slowed. He changed his angle a few times, but never ceased his movements. And before long, you were on the brink of falling apart.

“T-Tae… Gonna cum…” you warned, turning your head to look him in the eye over your shoulder.

“Me too, baby… You feel so good, I can’t help it. Cum for me, yeah?” he panted, pushing your hair out of your face and reconnecting his lips to yours in a sultry, slow and passionate make out. You mewled at the contact, letting him invade all of your sense at once and finally, the coil that had been building in your abdomen wound too tight, and you snapped.

Your legs shuddered, your back arched and your loud moans were swallowed whole by his kiss. Pleasure burst through your entire body, every nerve ending lighting up like a firework and detonating at the exact same moment.

Your pussy clenched around him so hard that Tae struggled to keep his rhythm, simply being dragged back in by your walls instead but the fight was inconceivably good, pulling him to the edge too. He frantically chased that high, whimpering against your lips as he continued to kiss you, wanting nothing more than to feel as close to you as he could.

You came back down just in time for his release, able to savour the warmth that filled you as he came. He was sure he had never cum so hard let alone as much; the pair of you were very aware of the way his cock squelched now with each slide while he slowed his hips. You could feel the mix of your arousal and his cum starting to seep from where the two of you were still connected, sliding down your inner thighs.

His hips stopped rolling, and the both of you stayed very still for a moment, catching your breath and coming back to reality. His forehead rest on your shoulder while you held yourself up, turning to press a light kiss to his temple and nuzzle into the soft mop of curls. And then he was chuckling to himself, running his fingers down the length of your arm.

“What’s funny?” you grinned; his laugh was infectious.

“I just… I swear, I’m more professional than this.” You laughed again with him, a blush creeping onto your already flushed face.

“Me too, usually…” you sniggered. He kissed your shoulder again and straightened up, allowing you to turn around and perch on the edge of the dressing table. You fixed your hair out of your eyes while he pulled his underwear and trousers up from where they pooled around his ankles. He looked around the room to find the bathrobe you’d worn earlier that day, draping around your shoulders with care so you could cover yourself.

“I was kind of lying earlier… I do want to do that campaign, I was just-“

“Manipulating me? I figured…” he smirked, slipping back into his waistcoat and picking up his beret.

“Then why did you-?”

“Swept up in the moment, I suppose. And I didn’t actually catch on until your hands were on my dick,” he shrugged, earning a laugh from you. “All I knew was I wanted you, you were in lingerie and getting closer…” He laughed with you, fixing his beret to his head and tucking his curls back into it. A comfortable silence settled over you both, post-coital smiles stretched across your faces.

“So that campaign… Are you interested?” you asked, folding your arms over your covered chest. His face contorted into one of exaggerated thought, his finger tapping at his chin.

“A day with you alone in a studio, creating beautiful art whilst you’re completely nude… Hm, this is a hard decision,” he mocked. You swatted his arm playfully, both laughing together. You liked how comfortable you felt with him, how wide the smile on your face was. It was intriguing; perhaps you could see yourself enjoying his company in future, not just his sexual prowess.

He stepped toward you, wrapping an arm around your waist casually and drawing a soft line down your jaw with his finger.

“I was actually hoping that you might be free for a drink, or dinner sometime soon. But yes, I’ve be honoured to photograph you for your campaign.”

“Well then if I may be so bold; what are you doing once you leave this studio?” you asked, straightening his beret for him.

“A lonely pizza and a bottle of beer for one. But I think I may have just had a better offer…” his voice lowered to something akin to seductive again, the smirk returning to his face.

“I think you might have. Let me change into some actual clothes, maybe we can grab dinner?”

“Absolutely. Anywhere you choose,” he smiled, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet impromptu kiss. You sank into it, before pushing him back to head over to the little case you’d been packing, pulling out the casual dress you’d worn to the studio that morning. Taehyung made no move to leave the little dressing room, leaning his back against the door and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“You’re sticking around?” you asked.

“Absolutely. I wouldn’t want to miss the show…”

#kim taehyung #taehyung #tae #BTS v #bts #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #BTS au #fan fiction #fan fic #SMUT AU #taehyung smut #tae smut #bts smut

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roosie121 · 4 years

Note

Prompt: E/C and chocolates :3

Forgive the time that has lapsed since you sent this request...I started a full-time position recently and it has been too stressful to train and learn the ropes. Now that I’m successfully trained in, it’s easier to write some stuff when business is slow (and, thanks to Miss Corona, that is basically always).

But, enough of my boring life. I hope you enjoy the prompt!

- - -

Loathe as he was to admit it, the child was wasting away.

She had always been a petite girl, though never malnourished or sickly in appearance. He found it appealing, truly, just how delicate she had always been, and was assured that the girl did hold an appetite. She was a dancer, of course, and though she adored her sweets and pastries he often doted on her with, it never showed on her sylphic limbs.

Now, she showed little interest in food, and the poor thing was losing weight she did not have to spare.

It had been a month since she agreed to be his bride, since her wobbling lips uttered her reluctant vows and her glassy eyes pleaded for some shred of mercy.

He had none.

The satisfaction Erik hoped to gain in claiming Christine as his bride was unsatisfactory. He could have predicted her moody, withdrawn behavior in the first week or so, but he had truly believed she would acclimate and accept the situation for what it was. Instead, she stayed in her room, the door shut, and though he knocked frequently throughout the day to offer food, refreshments, or even entertainment (in the form of playing, no doubt), she vehemently refused to show herself. Though this came to be a maddening response, it was fortunate, for it at least convinced him she had yet to kill herself.

Give the girl time, he told himself, as he worked himself into a frustration over being refused for the umpteenth time. He had to force himself away from her door, into the parlor, just to ensure he did not break down the door and wring her swan neck for disobeying his commands. He would never hurt her.

Well, not intentionally, anyway.

In the time that had lapsed since the night of their wedding, he had only seen her once, and it was enough to stir worry. Her eyes and cheeks were sunken, her lips pale as if she suffered a great illness. He demanded she allow him to check her over, and just running his bare palm against her white forehead was exhilarating. Still, she did not possess a fever, and so he allowed her on her way, with the promise she would eat the bread and butter he had prepared her.

Still, her plight for dramatics was beginning to irritate. Erik was apt to believe she was doing it all just to vex him!

Well, she had succeeded!

He had long ago gotten a gift. for his wife, perhaps a day or so after they wed. But seeing her sour attitude, he chose to hold it for when she would be willing to accept. Now was as good a time as ever. With an exasperated knock, Erik called into the doorframe, “My dear, are you decent?”

There was a pause, long enough to make him suck in a breath of despair. She had done it. She had successfully wasted away, and what would be left for him? A pathetic ring upon his finger, a marriage certificate that meant nothing next to that of death!

And then, “Erik, I do wish you would leave me alone.”

He took this as a sufficient answer, and opened the door (of which had long since been void of a lock), meeting her horrified expression. To both their relief, she was dressed, albeit in a night dress and robe.

“Erik-”

“Stupid girl. What a pitiful display of dramatics this is,” Erik scoffed, looking over her gaunt appearance. Still, it broke his heart that his own love and adoration had led her to such despair. His angel was killing herself, slowly and devastatingly. “For such a pretty head, it truly is filled with stupidity. Did you think refusing to eat or take care of yourself would convince me to let you go?”

She looked away, scornfully, her lower lip and chin jutted out like a pouting child, and tightened the robe over her chest. “I do not want anything from you.”

“You have mentioned,” he tutted, and without another word, took her frail hand and tugged her out of her room. She released a terrible cry, as if his touch was a hot iron, and tried to wrench herself from him, and with all the malnourishment, it was astonishing just how much strength she still possessed!

“Your Erik only wants to take care of his precious wife,” he said, pushing her down to a seat before going to rummage in his drawers for what he sought. “Has he not been a perfect gentleman? He did not touch you on his wedding night. Even when such was his right as your husband.”

Disgusted, Christine watched with wide eyes, reminded why she had locked herself away. His words greatly disturbed her, and at least in her room, she was able to shut him out.

When his eyes burned into her’s for response, she looked away, refusing to give him even the treat of eye contact. “It was greatly appreciated.”

Satisfied with this, he went back to his scavenging, and grinned when he found his treasure. A beautiful velvet box, bedecked with a satin bow.

“Christine has not been a very doting wife,” he reprimanded, kneeling before her. With all her might, she shoved herself into the cushions, as if they would absorb and help her escape. “All the same, Erik has noticed her poor condition, and he believes he has found the perfect antidote.”

Now, he shoved the parcel into her hands, and demanded, “Open.”

Trembling, she did as she was told, removing the bow and the lid, only to peer confusedly at the contents.

“Chocolates?”

He smiled again, this time holding his fingers to her chin. “I recall how fond you were of sweets, my dear girl.”

Then, he slid his hand down to her neck, and put just enough pressure to force her to look at him.

“Now eat.”

- - -

I KNOW I KNOW. It is darker than I am sure you intended, but I could not help myself. I have been DYING for a dark prompt and unfortunately I took your’s as sacrifice.

But thank you so much for sending! I’ll be keeping up more with prompts from now on, so feel free to keep sending in prompts/requests!

#phantom of the opera #christine daae #e/c #erik and christine #PotO #angst #phan phic

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sincerelybluevase · 4 years

Text

Careful, Madam Chapter Four

A/N Thank you guys for all the kind comments! They really mean a lot to me and help motivate me to keep writing, hence why there’s a new chapter now 😉. Tagging @need-not, @emptymasks @thegirlisuedtobe @halewynslady @solattea @alice1nwond3rland @ladynephthyss

The rain came down in thick sheets. It drummed on the roof, against the walls and the mullioned windows. Someone had opened the window of my room and the sweet, green scent of summer rain drifted in, pure and cool and cleansing. How easy it was, to sit quite still and listen to the water gurgle in the drainpipes, to smell the scent of the azaleas, and not think, not feel…

Mrs Danvers kept looking at me with those liquid eyes, my knuckles dimpling her cheek. Funny, how far she and I had come, and so suddenly, too. This time yesterday I had feared her enough to scurry through the halls of my own home afraid to make a sound, as if she was some sort of predator who would pounce and break my neck if I was not careful. Now, she seemed my only friend and ally.

“I can’t be with child,” I said, very calmly, very coolly. “You are mistaken, and Maxim is, too.”

“Then why the nausea, Madam, the loss of your appetite, your heightened sense of smell? And all the time you’ve been with us, you’ve only bled once.”

“How would you know?”

“Did you think I took no interest in the habits of my new mistress, in her health and wellbeing?”

I wished to go back to that state of numbness that had held me prisoner only moments ago. It seemed preferable to the panic that now threatened to engulf me. It made my mouth dry and my heart hammer. My frock stuck to my neck and back.

“You don’t understand. I can’t be, I mustn’t be…” I pulled my hand from her grip and pressed both palms hard against my eyes, watching sickly colours bloom.

Days before, I had pictured the children Maxim and I were wont to have one day, strapping boys with grazed knees and a penchant for sports and mischief. I had imagined them running through the halls of Manderley, leaving their things everywhere, tennis rackets and cricket bats, wellington boots, thumbed adventure books, leather balls. Most of all, I had thought of Maxim’s face as he beheld his sons, the pride and fierce love making him handsome. He would look at me then, that strong look softened, and he would put his arm about me and kiss my forehead, and I’d be so desperately happy I could choke on it.

Now, all I could see was that haggard, haunted look of quiet madness as he told me how he had put a bullet through Rebecca and had felt only triumph, the straying bitch at last brought to heel…

Mrs Danvers clasped my wrists and pulled my hands away. “What do you mean, Madam? Why mustn’t you be?”

It all moved about inside of me, twisting and turning, scraping my innards like a little sharp-nailed hand. It clawed its way up my throat, cutting it to ribbons, and it could not be swallowed down and hushed, it could not be denied…

Mrs Danvers rubbed the tears from my cheeks with her thumbs. “Why, Madam?”

“Because I shall never be free of him once I give him a child,” I whispered. We stared at each other, both shocked by my words. I had not known what I would say until it was said, and now it could not be taken back.

“I… I didn’t mean that,” I stammered. “I don’t know what I’m saying, Mrs Danvers. He’s my husband; of course I wish for us never to be separated….” But the words sounded hollow to me, and the rapid thumping of my heart screamed liar, liar, liar.

Mrs Danvers hardened. Gone was the soft, liquid look. “Of course,” she said, her voice that mechanical thing once more, stilted and lifeless, “why would you? Not even Rebecca wanted a divorce, and she cared nothing for him, despised him, even. You, who love him, who says he is your whole world, would not want to miss him, not even for a moment.” She stood and went to the window to shut it, the rain splashing on her hands and face. She did not come back to me but remained standing there. The windowpane reflected her face remarkably well. It looked pale, tight.

I felt as if I might cry. “Mrs Danvers,” I said, “Mrs Danvers, Danny, please.”

“Please what, Madam? What do you want? You still don’t know, do you? To have his child, to be free of him, to be a perfect little wife, to be another, to love him, to love me. You can’t make up your mind.”

“Please don’t,” I whispered.

She turned round, pressing her hands hard against her ribs, curling slightly forward, as if in pain. “They found her boat, but you knew that already, didn’t you? They found her, yet all Mr de Winter could worry about was you, your little sickness, your delicate condition. Sometimes, it’s as if I am the only one who wishes to remember her, the only one who truly cared. He doesn’t even speak of her.”

“Oh, Mrs Danvers,” I whispered, “you wouldn’t like him to. I promise you, you wouldn’t want to hear what he has to say about her.”

Two spots of colour burned high on her cheeks. “Does he call her names? Does he rail at her, denouncing her for a whore and an adulteress? Does he, Madam?”

They came again, those traitorous tears. They stung, burning hot. I nodded feebly.

She laughed. “Well, then he hasn’t forgotten to be jealous, has he? Men! When they look at women, they only see whores and saints, and like nothing better than to tear a woman down they lifted up. Trust a man never to see a woman for what she really is.”

I thought of my father, of his warm-heartedness, his laughter and love. “No, Mrs Danvers. They’re not all like that. Most men are normal.”

She laughed again. It sounded like keening. “Perhaps, but that’s the worst of it, Madam; how are we to know who is and who isn’t? Safer to assume they’re all pigs.”

I was tired as a dog, all wrung-out. “But they aren’t, Mrs Danvers, truly they aren’t. I’m sorry you think they are, but that isn’t right and it isn’t healthy.”

“It isn’t right?” She tore at her cuff, pushing the fabric up to her elbow, and held out her arm to me. With a finger she traced the scar there, the neat purple line in her flesh. “You’ve wondered how this came to be, didn’t you? I shall tell you. I went to care for Rebecca when she was seven. Her mother had died when she was born, and so a nurse had taken care of her all her life. Now that she was seven, it was time for a governess, and I was employed. I was twenty-one; my employer, her father, a man of forty-six.”

She kept moving her finger over the scar, rubbing it red. “I found out the first week that he had wandering hands, and within a month, that his hands were not the only things doing the wandering. I wished to resign then, but he wouldn’t give me a proper reference, and without one, I was worth nothing. And there was Rebecca, of course. Such a charming child. The longer I stayed, the more I loved her. The more I loved her, the harder it was to leave. Her father’s… ministrations were never quite bearable, but I grew used to them. They had to be borne, for love of her.”

Still she rubbed, harsher now, her clipped nails leaving white streaks that flushed crimson. “And on and on it went, until one day when Rebecca came home early. I never knew if she suspected what her father and I did; he made sure she was not around when he paid me his little visits. Rebecca was supposed to be riding her horse, but the animal had thrown a shoe and so she’d returned earlier than expected. Sixteen she was then, with all the wit and beauty of a woman twice her age.”

Mrs Danvers smiled at the memory. It was a fragile, broken thing, this smile of hers, and it cut me deeply.

“We didn’t hear her. How could we, over his groans? But in she came, dressed in her riding habit. I didn’t know she was watching us, not until her father screamed and rolled off of me. She had struck him with her riding crop, and she kept striking at him, over and over again, breaking his skin and drawing blood. He nearly lost an eye. In the end I had to intervene; she was so wild, I thought she might strike him dead if I did nothing. I had to restrain her.

“‘You won’t ever lay a finger on her again,’ she told her father, ‘do you hear me? She’s mine now.’ He laughed through his tears, as if it was all a great joke. ‘What, do you want to fuck her yourself?’ he asked, so she hit him with her bare hand. Afterwards, she took me to her room and helped me clean the gashes she’d made, and then I was safe. So you see, I know men are not all wicked, but you’ll forgive me for not taking any chances.”

How could I ever tell her what Maxim had told me?

I went to her and stilled her scratching hand. She had broken the skin, and little beads of blood welled up. I put my mouth to the soft inside of her arm and sucked at it, fighting through the nausea to lave her poor skin with my tongue. “I’m sorry you were hurt,” I murmured.

Her hand curled against her ribs, pressing hard against her stomach. “I miss her so much I sometimes wish to destroy myself,” she whispered.

If anyone deserves to know what happened to Rebecca, it is Mrs Danvers. She’s the only one who truly loved her, I thought. Rebecca, with her brain and breeding and beauty, her wit and charm. Nothing of that had mattered in the end; she had died like a dog at the hands of the man who had sworn to love and cherish her.

If I did not tell her now, I feared I never would. I had to tell her, even though it smote me.

“Mrs Danvers, I must tell you something, something that Maxim only just told me.” My throat was still painful from where she had bruised it last night, pressing my face against the sheets as she made love to me. I swallowed thickly; the lapping at her skin had made me salivate. I kept kissing the sore spot at her arm, postponing the moment I had to talk, until she took hold of my chin and made me look up.

“What must you tell me, Madam?” she asked softly.

“It’s about Rebecca. Maxim told me…he killed her, Danny. Maxim killed Rebecca.”

#rebecca #my fanfic #danvich #a short chapter #but i hope a good one

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