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kishibe-kisser · 1 year ago

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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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xappetites · 2 months ago

Text

jouissance (4)

Phillip Graves x Reader | political marriage, Graves finds himself in trouble, Vance makes a house visit and reader loses her mind a little bit | word count: 1,778

Phil’s bleeding, he’s pretty sure. Currently he’s unclear on the whereabouts of the actual wound —and the severity of it— but both of those can wait. There’s heat radiating out of one corner of the room, a fire he feels more than sees crawling up the building.

That leaves only one way out, and if these assholes are smart, shooters are bound to stalk the rooftops, hidden among the racket of rain and wind outside.

He has to move the Shadows and he has to move them now, if any of them want a chance to tell the tale. So Phillip’s on his feet on instinct, with a second to spare for gratitude when no bones seem to be broken.

He wonders offhandedly who on Earth would be reckless enough to try mortar fire in the middle of a city, however mangy the cluster of buildings might be, before the second round hits and the floor slips right from under him.

…

Your husband’s an insidious one. It’s in the way he folds his clothes and shines his shoes. In how he gently coils his belts to rest between your row of everyday handbags and the gun safe. Little things that speak of a marriage and make sure his presence is always here, in this house he bought you. All charm and a wicked mind. So you have to look at these things of his and think about his accent, the glint in his eyes when you misbehave, his mouth on yours.

Phillip Graves is more than you ever dared wish for. Yours in a way that sparks holy terror in your gut. Against your better judgment and against your will, he sneaks into the routine and makes the bed feel empty without the expanse of his back to curl into.

You crave him, wherever in the world he is at the moment, risking his hide as a way of life. Because of course, you had to find him in the line of fire.

You’re not made for easy, you’re made for finding the perfect husband and being in constant danger of losing him. He has the scars to prove it too, so close to that sharp brain of his. And he wears them with the kind of balls that your friends back in Hudson Yards try to match with distressed jeans and design pre-scuffed boots. Worse is the joy he finds in the work: obvious, magnetic. Such an intrinsic part of him that you couldn’t even wish to stop him.

Worst is that when Vance shows up in the middle of the afternoon, after Phil’s been gone for weeks, you don’t even flinch.

“Mrs. Graves,” he says. Standing on your porch with the straightest back you’ve ever seen, looking for all the world like he’s carrying the metaphorical neatly folded flag.

The thought slides sluggish into your awareness. You don’t know if that still happens, Phillip being a contractor, saving the ‘real’ military’s asses by doing their fucking dirty work. And it’s so inconsequential that it takes over —the question—, for another second of staring blankly.

“Ma’am,” Vance tries again, gently herding you into the house by the elbow.

He’s not wearing gloves, you notice, and he seems to be trying to keep a hand on you, even if it feels like he’s not used to this kind of constant touching. It’s something you’ve seen Phil doing more than once, so it stops you dead, makes you stumble into the stupid decorative side table your in-laws insisted on gifting you.

“What happened?” It’s breathy, punched out of you. Two half words in a long exhale.

“We lost contact with Commander Graves’ team at around o’ five hundred this morning—“

“It’s damn near six pm.”

“We have protocols—“

Of course they do, Phil is adamant about doing things right or not doing them at all. So it’s been twelve hours, plus the drive, of no one knowing where your husband is. And it’s not even that fact that makes Vance hesitate. It’s the next few words out of his mouth that turn this into a scenario that warrants the face he’s making.

“And— satellite images show signs of a fairly large explosion, close to their last known location.”

The shit table catches your weight once again, rattling up a storm. You lean on it, simply because, unlike Vance, it doesn’t look at you like you’re on the verge of exploding.

You might be, actually. Your head feels like a lit fuse, building pressure under your tongue. Anger simmers under the shock, an impulse to bite, to leave claw marks on what’s yours.

“We still have no concrete information,” Vance’s palm finds your elbow for the second time.

Maybe he expects your knees to buckle, but he stays close. Phil close. So you take a couple steps back.

“A team was dispatched for search and rescue, we should have news by tomorrow morning at the latest.”

Vance looks at you like you’re supposed to respond to that, fulfill the social contract in some way you can’t fathom right now. Are you meant to thank him for the bad news? This can’t be the first widow-to-be visit he makes, but it is yours, which makes the etiquette unclear.

He moves, in the end; does that universal half turn, half vague gesture towards the door one does when trying to excuse themselves from something. Your body moves with him, follows on instinct.

You’ve never been one to wait— call it being a spoilt brat, but you need something to focus on if you’re going to simply hold out for any amount of time; your phone, a book, even people watching. But all your mind goes to at the moment is blood and fire and Phillip and every single black dress you own.

The rage in the pit of your stomach strains at the leash. At Vance, at the Shadows, at Phil. And you’re bound to demolish the house, if you’re left alone in it for more than the five minutes of this interaction. Might end up cutting into ribbons all your funeral-appropriate clothes.

“I’m coming back to base with you,” it comes out flat. Not begging, not a demand. Because it isn’t, it’s a statement of fact, a certainty that throws this Shadow off his game. Makes him sputter like an old chainsaw for an excuse he thinks you’ll take.

“I’m supposed to go right back, I— there’s no time to pack for the night…”

You hand Vance your phone, leave him there palm outstretched while you shove laptop, chargers and wallet into a bag. A process that takes all of five minutes, in which you’ve correctly assumed he won’t dare fuck off without you. Not before you pluck the device back from his very light grip, keys jingling as you unlock the truck in the driveway.

“I’ll follow you.”

…

It occurs to you, quite late, that the correct reaction to this would be to cry. Not that you can focus on it, with the strange bureaucracy of security checks and Vance’s unrelenting escort into the Shadows’ facility, but maybe you should.

You could probably try, in the same way that social deception usually comes to you. Second nature, beaten into your body by private schooling and parents that mostly think of you as an asset in whatever scheme they happen to be cooking up at the time. Whether that’s looking pretty at a charity ball or securing the Graves’ deep pockets for future political endeavors.

Crying for the stony faced, hurried soldiers you pass by on your way to Phil’s office would be easy, all things considered; it just feels wrong under your skin. You’re not fucking here for them, you’re here for the husband that is definitely coming back. Because he made a promise to keep you and, despite the things your world has thought you about promises, you fucking trust him.

Nausea, on the other hand, comes a lot more naturally. Bile climbing up your throat like an awful tide you have to pause to fight every couple steps. It burns in your throat and threatens to make you tear up out of nothing but physical discomfort, but it just doesn’t have the same flare, doesn’t get the same reaction.

“The bathroom next to Phil’s office is private, right?” Vance levels you with a look so strange that you feel the need to add the truth at the end, amend your question, “—I’m gonna be sick.”

Even now it’s unbearable to be assumed as a fragile little greenhouse flower that can’t cope with a shared toilet. Especially when he already looks at you out like you’re an alien learning how to act human and not quite hitting the mark.

“Commander Graves has his entire private quarters back there, not just the bathroom,” Vance doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down his pace, but this is the most surprised you’ve seen him. “He used to spend a lot more time here, before he met you. You’ve bumped up time off for all of us.”

Your expression must be a sight, with the chuckle it gets out of him. It loosens his stance some, makes him look at you like you’re a person and not a grenade he has to jump for the first time today. The silence suddenly not so fucking tense between you, until he punches in the code to your husband’s office and he stands there a foot away, starting and stopping a sentence for a couple times.

“He always comes back, Commander Graves,” Vance settles for in the end; not empty assurances, just what he knows from experience.

You can appreciate it, can take the hand he settles on your shoulder amicably. Though he’s not Phillip and hasn’t earned the privilege to comfort you.

He leaves you, promising an update on first light, no matter how much you insist on ‘as soon as you have one’. You’re not gonna sleep anyway.

Even after you shower and rummage around drawers for one of Phil’s spare shirts, you settle on the office chair with your laptop to try and pretend to work. Your husband’s desk is clean, sparsely furnished with a pen holder, a couple stacks of post it’s and presiding over all, a framed copy of your wedding photo.

The tightness in your chest comes on so suddenly that it knocks the breath right out of you. And it forces out the most embarrassing, raw sound you’ve ever heard yourself make. It’s an animal sort of cry, growl and sob and the clarity that losing Phillip Graves will unmake you in ways you don’t want to imagine.

#m: cod #r: angst #phillip graves x reader #personal #sorry y'all

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weemssapphic · 1 year ago

Note

Hi how are you? I hope well! so i really like your writing actually ur my fav writer here on tumblr ;). So i had this idea for a fanfic by Miranda Hilmarson x reader. It was about Miranda being a traffic cop sometimes too and then she ends up giving the reader a ticket in one day and the reader gets really mad and even fights with Miranda, and then they end up meeting again, but what Miranda didn't know was that the reader would be her new boss!! From there I leave it to you, it can even be an enemies to lovers, you know.

I just had this silly idea, maybe you'll like it and I'd be super happy if you wrote it.💗

another thing! English is not my language, I'm literally writing this through Google translator so if something seems strange to you, you already know ☠️

A/N: thank you sooo much, that is so kind of you! I really liked this request and enjoyed writing it - it's my first time writing for Miranda so I really hope it's okay <3 just gonna post this and go hide now ahhhh

not your fault

Words: ~7.4k | ao3 link in title

Content/warnings: slight enemies to lovers, mentions of Adrian Butler (ugh), reader has a temper - poor Miranda is on the receiving end, mentions of cigarettes and alcohol, employee-boss relationship, angry Miranda, but also adorable puppy Miranda, nsfw (smut) - vaginal fingering, cunnilingus

“Are you fucking kidding me…” You groaned under your breath as you snatched up the little piece of paper stuck between your windshield wipers - a parking ticket. You were already running late thanks to your cat having puked all over your carpet that morning, and thanks to the barista at the coffee shop who’d taken ages with your latte - and now you were going to be even later.

You whipped your head around, looking for the officer who’d given you the ticket. A tall, blonde woman in a police uniform was strolling down the line of parked cars, handing out tickets to each one. The officer turned as you stomped over, eyes widening as you advanced on her until you were standing right in front of her. You had to crane your neck up to look at her - in any other situation, you might have found this insanely arousing, but right now you were far too pissed.

“Care to explain this?” You waved the paper in her face - she went slightly cross-eyed as her eyes followed your movements.

“Uh, that’s a parking ticket, ma’am.” The officer swallowed visibly, taking a step back.

“I park here every goddamn day,” you hissed.

“I’m sorry…” She seemed a bit dazed and distracted for a moment as she regarded you, her eyes darting between your own, before straightening her posture and clearing her throat. “There’s, uh, a festival downtown this weekend, they’ve closed most of the parking zones until it’s over. There’s a sign at the start of the road.” She nodded her head over to a single sign set up at the next intersection, one that you had clearly missed in your rush.

You were seething, a billion arguments ready on your tongue, but the clock was ticking - and in the end, she was right, no matter how pissed you were.

“You know what, fucking forget it. I’m already running late! Thanks for nothing.” You stomped back to your car and crumpled up the parking ticket, tossing it on the passenger seat and groaning in frustration - the officer stood rooted to the spot, watching as you drove away.

~~~

Not wanting to get a speeding ticket in addition to your parking ticket, you took your time driving to the police station for your first day on the job. You’d just moved to Sydney to replace Adrian Butler as he left his position to “focus on his marriage” - you hadn’t even started yet and had already heard rumors of his extramarital affair with a constable. Men are pigs, you thought as you strode into the station and took the elevator up to the third floor, half an hour later than you’d planned.

The room was buzzing when you walked in but as soon as you cleared your throat and made your presence known, everyone went silent.

“I’ll spare you all the usual ‘first day’ speech - you should know who I am. I’m sure we’ll all get to know each other well over the course of the coming weeks, but for now I already have my hands full with everything that Detective Sergeant Butler so generously left for me.”

Your eyes landed on an empty desk near the center of the room. “Who usually sits there? Are they out sick?”

Some of the men began to snicker - one in particular answered your question. “Oh, that’s Hilmarson.” He smirked and took a sip from his coffee mug as he leaned against the side of the copy machine.

You raised an eyebrow. “And? Where is Constable Hilmarson?”

The elevator doors opened behind you and you turned around, eyes widening as you were confronted with the tall, blonde officer who’d given you a ticket. Her own shocked expression mirrored yours.

“That’d be her.” The man - Constable Brown, you’d later come to learn - chuckled, his smirk widening.

“Constable.” You glared pointedly at Constable Hilmarson. “My office, now.”

She frowned and followed you to the small office at the side of the room. You closed the door behind her and took a seat behind your new desk, gesturing for the officer to sit. She scrambled rather clumsily towards the chair and sat down, looking like a child about to be reprimanded.

“Constable Hilmarson, is it? Miranda?” You regarded her carefully. Her cheeks were rosy with embarrassment, her eyes wide as saucers. And, God, were they blue. They were mesmerizing. Miranda bobbed her head up and down in answer to your question, a bit of her pale blonde hair falling in her eye. She raised a hand to her head, dragging long fingers through her hair to brush it back - you had to physically shake your head to stop yourself from getting distracted by her movements.

“I like to be prepared, Constable. So I was having a look at your file the other day, you see, and I was under the impression that you are currently on a homicide case with Detective Griffin. Or am I mistaken?”

“Yes - I mean, no, you’re not mistaken.” Miranda shook her head furiously.

“Then pray tell, Constable - why on earth did you spend your morning handing out fucking parking tickets?” You couldn’t keep the venom out of your voice as you questioned Miranda - something about her was pissing you off (or maybe it was just the fact that you hadn’t even been able to drink your coffee yet), and you were having trouble reigning in your emotions.

Miranda’s face was bright red and her hands shook slightly. “I lost a bet,” she mumbled, unable to meet your gaze.

“Louder.”

She cleared her throat, her eyes locking with yours. “I lost a bet. I had to take over Constable Brown’s duties for the morning.”

You sighed, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of your nose.

“I’m not here to play games. Do you understand that?” Your voice was sickly sweet, bordering on condescension - it was not lost on Miranda, who was starting to look like she wanted to argue.

Evidently, she thought better of it at the last second, for she simply nodded as she glowered at you.

“You’re here to do your job, not Constable Brown’s job. And I expect you to do your job well. So, seeing as you’ve not only made me late, wasted your entire morning, and wasted even more of my time with this silly conversation, I would appreciate it if you could get to work. Now.”

Miranda stood abruptly, sending a stack of papers flying from your desk as she stormed from the room. You rubbed your temples, wincing at the force with which she closed the door behind her - you were already starting to develop a headache, and it wasn’t even 10 am.

~~~

As the morning went on, you found yourself growing more and more agitated, unable to focus on anything. You realized as your stomach growled for the fourth (or was it the fifth?) time that, in your rush, you’d skipped breakfast.

The second the clock hit 12 for your lunch break, you were on your feet. You’d have to work through much of your break to catch up, but you could afford to take a few minutes to grab a coffee and a granola bar from the vending machines in the lobby.

Passing by Miranda’s desk, you noticed that her chair was empty - the sight made your blood boil. You took a deep breath to calm yourself down - it was her lunch break, too, and she had every right to leave her desk during that time. Her messy, cluttered desk… You clenched your fists and headed for the elevator.

That wasn’t the only time her desk was empty, however. Throughout the afternoon, you would look up from your paperwork (you found that Adrian had been terrible at properly filing paperwork, making your job that much harder) every so often - and more times than not, the constable was nowhere in sight. With a frustrated sigh, you stood and strode over to open the window - you desperately needed the fresh air if you were going to make it home without strangling someone.

The sight of Miranda smoking a cigarette in the alley next to the station, just under your window, had you clenching your jaw, nostrils flaring. You couldn’t help yourself - you immediately headed towards the elevator and took rapid steps out of the station, rounding the corner and advancing on the constable, whose back was turned to you.

“Hilmarson!” you barked - Miranda flinched as she turned to face you.

“What did I do now? Am I not allowed to smoke or something?” She sounded agitated, and that made you even angrier.

“This is your fourth smoke break in the past two hours alone. If your habits are going to get in the way of your job, then I suggest you-”

“You know, you’re really stressing me out!” Miranda yelled back, gesticulating wildly as she spoke. “I’ll do my damned job, okay? You’re just really not making it easy.”

You laughed - it was hollow and sarcastic - and took a step closer to Miranda. Your face was inches away from hers now - this close, your eyes were drawn to her lips, soft and plush, trembling slightly with anger. A little scar adorned her top lip and your gaze lingered there for a moment, arousal pooling in your core - until Miranda brought the cigarette back to her mouth to take a drag.

Torn from your trance, you plucked it from her grip and dropped it to the ground, crushing it with your boot.

“Talk to me like that again and I’m sending you home for the rest of the day. Now get back upstairs.”

Miranda pushed roughly past you, her shoulder bumping into yours as she headed back into the station. You leaned against the wall and let out a loud groan, your eyes fluttering shut. Why was Miranda determined to make your day as difficult as humanly possible?

With a heavy sigh, you opened your eyes and pushed off the wall, following the constable back inside.

~~~

Your second day on the job started out significantly better than your first. You managed to eat breakfast, get coffee, and make it to work on time, all without getting a parking ticket or arguing with a certain constable. Miranda had been at her desk when you’d walked past it and, mercifully, hadn’t said a word to you - though you could feel her eyes on you as you disappeared into your office.

When you left your office for your lunch break, you found the main office empty - you figured most of your officers were taking their lunch break as well. You strode over to the little kitchen, reaching for the handle when the door swung open in your face - your body colliding with a much taller one. You heard a gasp above you and looked up to see Miranda standing directly in front of you, eyes wide, mouth hanging open in shock.

It was then that you realized your shirt suddenly felt a bit wet - your eyes fell to the half-empty bowl in Miranda’s hand, then to your torso, which was covered in milk and little pieces of cereal.

“Oh you have got to be kidding me,” you growled, pushing past Miranda and ignoring the apologies that poured profusely from her mouth. You grabbed a fistful of paper towels and dabbed at your shirt, quickly realizing that it was no use - you’d have to get changed.

You spun around when you felt a hand on your arm, glaring up at Miranda who looked down at you apprehensively. At your furious expression, she pulled her hand away as if burned. “Do you need help?”

Sighing, you closed your eyes and attempted to reign in your temper. “No,” you grit out. “It’s fine, you’ve done enough. I just have to go home to get changed, I guess.”

“Well if you don’t have a shirt with you then you can borrow mine?”

Your eyes flew open, meeting Miranda’s soft gaze before flickering down to her torso. “W-what?”

“I mean, I have an extra shirt in my locker.” Miranda gestured back towards the elevator with her thumb, a faint smirk playing upon her lips - the fact that you had just basically ogled her chest was not lost on her, apparently.

You could feel your cheeks turn red and you looked down at your own shirt, clinging to your chest - it had turned slightly see-through, and you could see your bra through the thin fabric. The drive home would cost you your entire lunch break, and Miranda did owe you for this… You sighed heavily.

“Yeah, sure.”

Miranda smiled, her eyes lighting up and crinkling at the outer corners - it was the first time you’d seen her properly smile, and it was beautiful. She crossed the kitchen and peered out the door into the office.

“The coast is clear,” she said with a grin, gesturing for you to follow her. You rolled your eyes and the two of you headed down to the empty locker rooms.

“I always bring something to change into after work,” Miranda supplied as she busied herself with opening her locker. “It might be a bit big on you but at least nobody will be able to see your bra.”

You started to unbutton your shirt, feeling Miranda’s eyes on you as you did so. It was hard to focus with the constable in such close proximity - you struggled with the buttons as you found yourself growing more and more flustered.

“Here, let me help,” she murmured, and before you could stop her, her hands were on the buttons of your shirt. Her fingers brushed against the swell of your chest, just above the fabric of your bra, and you shivered visibly, your mouth going dry.

“T-thanks but I got it,” you mumbled, gently pushing Miranda’s hand away. “Could you turn around?”

Miranda furrowed her brow, her face flushing. “Oh, sorry!” She placed a baby blue t-shirt on the bench next to you, then turned and studied the bare wall with great interest as you got changed.

“You can turn around again,” you said, clearing your throat. Miranda did as she was told, her eyes getting stuck on your chest for a moment before meeting your gaze. Your anger had all but dissipated, replaced with an unfamiliar and somewhat unsettling tension as you looked at Miranda, your stomach flipping.

“Uh, thanks,” you whispered. “For the shirt.”

Miranda’s lips curled up into a smile. “Yeah, of course. You know, I’m really excited to have another woman on the force. Last night I was looking into your case in Auckland before you got promoted - I talked to Robin about it, even she was impressed.”

For once, you were left speechless. For all the crap you’d given Miranda since meeting her, she seemed so genuine and excited to be speaking with you in that moment - you could feel yourself get flustered again, and all you could do was nod your head as she spoke.

“Oh, my lunch break is over so I have to go meet Robin but, uh, I’ll see you later, yeah?”

You nodded absentmindedly, stuck on the way Miranda’s hands moved as she spoke and the brightness of her eyes. She shot you one last grin before turning and taking long strides out of the locker rooms, leaving you to stand there in a daze, holding your wet shirt.

~~~

It was finally Friday and you’d been invited to go to the bar for drinks after work to celebrate the end of your first week - you stood in the lobby of the station, waiting for Robin to join your group before heading out.

Since the little cereal incident, you were trying to actively avoid thinking about, looking at, or talking to Miranda, but she was making that damned near impossible. When you’d returned her shirt back to her, freshly washed, she made sure to allow her fingers to brush against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. She wasn’t at her desk much throughout the day, off investigating leads with Robin, and for that you were grateful - but every time you saw her desk, littered with empty takeout containers, paperwork, coffee mugs, you felt a twinge of annoyance, followed by a sinking feeling of guilt that you couldn’t quite place. As a result, you spent much more time than you wanted sitting at your desk, dissecting your feelings for the blonde but coming up empty.

The door to the station opened and a civilian walked in with a small goldendoodle on a leash. A gasp sounded to your right and you couldn’t help yourself - your eyes followed the sound just in time to see Miranda crouch down and extend her arms towards the dog, which jumped excitedly up at her, trying to lick her face.

You couldn’t tell who was more excited about the interaction - Miranda, or the dog. The blonde was letting out little squeals of delight, cooing at the dog as she buried her fingers in its fur.

“Pull yourself together, Constable,” you grumbled, annoyed mostly at yourself for the way your stomach was reacting to the sight of Miranda cuddling the dog. It was childish and unprofessional… You most definitely did not think it was cute. Not even a little bit, no… You blushed and looked away as Miranda stood up, missing the look of disappointment in her puppy-like eyes.

After that, though, you found you couldn’t even enjoy getting drinks with your colleagues - your mind was going in circles and you were unable to shake off this weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. You sat at a booth near the back of the bar, nursing a beer as everyone around you joked around and slowly got drunk.

You couldn’t keep your gaze from wandering towards Miranda, who was seated at the opposite end of the table. She sipped her beer, smiling occasionally at something one of the others said - your eyes, once again, got stuck on her smile. The upward quirk of her lips, the subtle scrunch of her nose, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. When she caught you staring, however, she quickly looked away, the smile sliding right off her face.

It affected you more than you would care to let on - as soon as her smile was gone, you wished for it back - desperately. And it was stupid, really - she’d somehow managed to sour your mood every single day this week, and yet your body was reacting to her in ways you hadn’t felt in a long time. With a sigh, you drained your beer and ordered a second one - this was going to be a long night.

~~~

If you’d thought your second week on the job would start better than the first, well - you’d quickly find out just how wrong you were.

Monday morning started like any other - you strode into the office with your coffee to-go cup, passing by Miranda’s empty desk. There was a half-empty bowl of cereal at the edge, stacks of manila folders and paperwork strewn over the surface, an empty, crumpled paper bag from the local bakery that had been tossed unceremoniously onto the computer keyboard. It stirred up a twinge of annoyance in you, but you tried your best to shake off the feeling.

Looking up and seeing the blonde standing at the coffee machine in the kitchen, you quickly averted your gaze and hurried to your office.

Your mind began to wander as you answered your emails and a flash of blonde through the window in your office caught your eye. Miranda walked back to her seat, a mug in her hand. She reached her desk and distractedly looked up, talking enthusiastically with Robin as she placed the mug down on a teetering pile of papers.

You looked on in horror as the pile slowly toppled over, spilling coffee all over her desk - you couldn’t bear to watch anymore, dropping your head into your hands in frustration as you heard Miranda let out a gasp.

Not my problem, you thought, trying to take steadying breaths. It wasn’t your desk that she’d spilled her coffee on, after all.

You stood and made your way to your office door, calling out for Robin.

“Yeah?”

“Did you manage to get a copy of the autopsy results already? I really need them.”

Robin shifted slightly from foot to foot, a frown growing on her face - you really didn’t like the look of that.

“Actually, I sent Miranda to get them this morning.”

Raising an eyebrow, you looked past Robin at her colleague, who was frantically wiping up the spilled coffee from her desk. “Hilmarson, can I get those autopsy results?”

Miranda looked up, freezing in her movements. Her eyes darted between you and her desk and her cheeks were rapidly turning pink. “They, uh… Got a bit soggy.” She strode over to you with a piece of paper in her hand. You took it gingerly, a look of disgust forming on your face as the entire thing was brown and dripping wet.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” you growled. Miranda shrugged sheepishly and muttered out an apology - you glared at her in return. “I need you to get me a fresh copy by this afternoon.”

Miranda opened her mouth to speak but you interrupted her, balling your hand into a fist and crumpling up the paper, tossing it on her desk. “And tidy your fucking desk like a grown up,” you snarled.

Miranda’s face was red as she turned sharply on her heel and stormed out of the office, taking large strides towards the elevators and disappearing from view.

“She grows on you,” Robin supplied quietly, watching you watch Miranda. You snorted.

“I doubt it.” Your stomach churned uncomfortably even as you said those words. Why did this woman have such an effect on you?

“She’s been having a rough time, ever since the breakup with Adrian.” Your eyes widened at this piece of information - you’d known about Adrian’s affair, of course, but you’d never thought it would be with Miranda. “They were going to have a baby together, you know.”

You coughed, choking on your own saliva. “They what?” You couldn’t picture Miranda as a mother - she was far too clumsy and chaotic… and goofy. And generous. Okay, maybe you could picture it, a little bit. Your stomach churned uncomfortably - you didn’t know the details of the affair, but breakups were rough - you’d moved across the country after your last breakup. You suddenly felt ashamed for being such a bitch to her.

“Yeah, well…” You cleared your throat awkwardly. “I have a lot of work to do, so if you don’t mind…” You forced a smile and Robin raised her eyebrows, nodding and leaving you be. You tried to focus after that but you couldn’t, your mind wandering quite insistently to a certain constable. Guilt began to gnaw at your insides after having been so harsh with her. You’d have to - you wanted to - apologize for your behavior.

You locked yourself in your office and finished replying to your emails. Even half an hour later, Miranda was still not at her desk - nor was she in the kitchen, the locker rooms, or the alley under your window. You finally found her behind the station, looking out over the water and smoking a cigarette.

“Hey,” you called, your heart clenching when you saw Miranda flinch as she turned to face you.

“Oh fuck. Look, I’m sorry, okay, I-”

“I’m the one who should apologize. Robin told me it was you.”

Miranda’s face scrunched up in confusion. She dropped her cigarette and took a step towards you. “Sorry?”

“You know, with Adrian.”

Recognition flooded Miranda’s features and she dropped her gaze to the pavement. “Oh.” She let out a hollow chuckle and turned again, walking towards the water and lowering herself to sit at the edge. You followed and took a seat next to her, leaving a healthy distance between the two of you.

“Men are pigs, you know?” Miranda said after a moment’s silence. A loud snort escaped your lips, causing Miranda to laugh - you hadn’t heard her laugh so freely before, but it made your heart soar and you thought it might be your new favorite sound in the world. It wasn’t quite melodic, not necessarily akin to birdsong - it was loud and unabashed and very Miranda, and for some reason you found you really liked that. You couldn’t help but laugh, too.

“You’re alright, you know that, Hilmarson?” you said with a grin, gently bumping your shoulder into hers. Miranda’s laughter slowly died out but the smile remained on her face, accompanied by a faint blush.

“Thanks. You are, too.”

~~~

“Hilmarson.” You slung your jacket over your shoulder as you strode past Miranda’s desk the following day around noon. Her eyes grew wide and she dropped the pen she was holding, straightening her posture. “Come with me.”

Miranda scrambled to get up, slipping her phone into her pocket and following you to the elevators and out of the building.

“Where are we going?” she asked, confusion evident in her tone as she scurried after you. You bypassed the parking lot, heading down the street instead.

“You’ll see,” you said with a smirk, wordlessly offering Miranda a cigarette. She fumbled around in her pocket for a lighter but you were quicker, holding up your own. “Hold still,” you murmured, holding the lighter up to her cigarette and lighting it for her, your eyes catching on the way her long, slender fingers held it, as if it were a delicate thing.

Your destination was a nearby coffee shop, and you held the door open for Miranda to step through. “After you,” you purred, smirking at Miranda’s wide eyes. After a moment’s hesitation, she scrambled into the cafe, waiting awkwardly for you at the counter.

“It’s on me,” you said before ordering yourself a latte and a sandwich. “Get anything you like.”

Minutes later, you were sitting together at a little table in the corner.

“Look,” you started with a sigh. Miranda tilted her head. “Can we start over? I haven’t exactly been fair to you. You aren’t the reason I was late last week. I was angry and took it out on you, and that was really shitty of me.”

“I did spill cereal all over your shirt, though,” Miranda murmured with a sheepish grin, her cheeks turning adorably rosy.

“Yeah. Yeah, you did,” you said with a laugh. “That’s not the point, though. You’re too good to let yourself get walked all over, you know that?”

Miranda shrugged, unable to fully meet your gaze and focusing instead on her panini, out of which she took a huge bite.

“Not by me, not by Constable Brown, not by Adrian - you’re a solid officer and you have potential, you just need to stand your ground more.”

“Oh god,” Miranda spoke through a full mouth, her voice slightly garbled, her eyes wide. “Is this a performance review or something?”

You laughed, your stomach flipping as her blush deepened. “No. I just…” You hesitated, biting your lip and looking away. I just really like you. “I just wanted to apologize. I want us to work together, not against each other.”

“Really?” Miranda grinned, her eyes sparkling - the hope written across her face nearly made your heart stop, and you nodded. “I was so scared when I found out you were my new boss. I really thought you hated me.”

“I did, too,” you said with a laugh. “But… for the record, I don’t. I hope you don’t hate me.”

Miranda’s cheeks puffed out as she chewed and she smiled widely. “I don’t.”

~~~

Ever since your lunch “date”, your feelings for Miranda were only growing. Your heart skipped a beat when you caught sight of her at the station, your stomach fluttered when you heard her voice. You even found yourself timing your smoke breaks with hers, just so you would have an excuse to chat with her and bask in her presence.

The following Friday at the bar, Miranda chose to sit down next to you. She placed a beer in front of you and offered you a wide smile - you felt your face flush as you muttered out an uncharacteristically shy “thank you”.

The two of you listened to your colleagues talk and banter - or rather, perhaps Miranda was listening, but you definitely weren’t. You were far too focused on the constable and your close proximity to one another; the way her shoulder bumped yours every so often, the way her hand flexed around her beer bottle, the way her throat bobbed whenever she took a sip.

Miranda laughed, throwing her head back, her shoulders shaking. She looked to the side, meeting your gaze - you couldn’t help but grin giddily back at her, chuckling a bit, and you could see her cheeks turn red as she returned your grin.

After your third beer, you started to feel a little daring - you placed your hand gingerly on her thigh, your touch feather light as you were afraid of crossing a line. To your surprise, Miranda placed her own hand on top of yours - it was warm and soft and large, and you could feel your pulse pick up as her long fingers curled slightly around yours. When you dared to steal a glance in her direction, you could see a soft smile playing upon her lips.

~~~

“Hey.” A low voice coming from the doorway to your office caused you to look up from your laptop. A smile involuntarily spread across your face seeing Miranda leaning awkwardly against the doorframe, her hands clasped behind her back.

“Hi,” you replied - Miranda hadn’t come into your office proactively since you’d started working at the station, but you supposed a lot had changed in the past few days. “Do you need something?”

Miranda shook her head. “No, I, uh, I actually wanted to ask if you’d want to come over to my place for a beer or something tonight?”

“Oh.” A swarm of butterflies erupted in your stomach at the prospect of spending one-on-one time with the blonde - who was looking increasingly like she was about to throw up, the longer you took to reply. “Yeah, yes, I would love to.”

Miranda’s eyes widened. “Okay, great. I’ll send you my address. How’s 7?”

“7 is perfect,” you said with a growing blush, chuckling as Miranda rushed back to her desk to grab her phone - your own phone pinged with a text moments later: an address.

~~~

You showed up promptly at 7, your heart pounding fiercely against your ribcage as you knocked on the door to Miranda’s apartment.

The door swung open to reveal the tall blonde, wearing the blue shirt she’d loaned you after spilling cereal all over you, as well as a pair of shorts.

“Blue is definitely your color,” you said before you could stop yourself. It really was, though - it brought out the blues of her eyes, making them shine and sparkle against her pale skin.

“Thank you,” Miranda said with a laidback grin, gesturing for you to enter her apartment. It surprised you to see that it wasn’t as messy as you’d have assumed it to be - it was definitely lived in, but it was clean and had very home-y vibes. More than anything, the first thing you noticed was the smell. It smelled like Miranda - light and clean, but with the faint scent of cigarettes clinging to the air. Her shirt had smelled like that, too, when you’d borrowed it, and though you never would have admitted it back then, you’d buried your nose in the fabric more than once before begrudgingly washing and returning it.

Miranda offered you a beer and guided you to her living room, settling on the couch and motioning for you to join her. The couch was relatively small and though you tried to leave some space between you, your knee ended up pressing lightly against Miranda’s thigh.

Despite your nerves, it somehow felt right to be in her space. You felt as though you were able to see a whole new side to Miranda - a side that you really liked. As the two of you engaged in some timid small-talk, you couldn’t help but wonder why she’d invited you - you hoped it was for the same reason that you’d said yes.

“God, I was so nervous to ask you to come over,” Miranda said with a cackle, shaking her head at herself before taking a swig of her beer.

“Were you?” The thought amused you greatly, and it gave you a shot of confidence. You dropped your voice an octave and leaned forward. “Do I make you nervous?”

Miranda looked like a deer caught in headlights, her eyes widening. Your eyes flicked briefly to her lips, to her wet, pink tongue darting out to lick them, and you found yourself leaning even closer.

“What would you do if I kissed you right now?” you murmured, scanning Miranda’s face for any sign of discomfort. Miranda’s pupils dilated and her lips parted slightly.

“I would kiss you back,” she whispered, her gaze landing on your lips.

“Yeah?” you whispered back with a smile. Miranda nodded slowly.

“Uh-huh.”

You closed the gap, your lips meeting hers - she tasted like beer and cigarettes, and her lips were impossibly soft. She kissed you back eagerly, whimpering a little as your tongue darted out over her lower lip.

You pulled back, your cheeks covered in a light blush.

“I’m sorry, I hope that wasn’t-” you started, but Miranda interrupted you with a second kiss, this one deeper and hungrier than the first as her hands grabbed your cheeks, holding you in place. Her tongue licked greedily at the seam of your lips, which you immediately parted for her. You let out a deep groan as her tongue slipped into your mouth, dancing with yours in near-desperation.

“You taste so good,” Miranda moaned, her voice low and sultry, and desire pooled in your core.

“Mmmh,” was all you could reply as your hands gripped at Miranda’s waist and you swung your leg over her lap to straddle her. Her hands slid down to your waist, then your hips, then came to rest on top of your thighs. She gave them a squeeze and you found yourself involuntarily grinding your pelvis into her lap, her touch sending your body into overdrive.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered, Miranda swallowing your words as your bodies pressed against each other, a steady and suffocating heat building between the two of you.

The constable’s hands slipped under your ass and she turned you onto your back - breaking the kiss only briefly to position herself above you. One of her knees came to rest between your legs and she pushed it against your core, drawing a groan from your throat. The pressure was delicious against your aching sex and you bucked your hips to get some much-needed relief.

Miranda’s lips left your own and began to trail down your chin, your throat, your chest, stopping at the top button of your shirt - hot, wet, needy. She lifted her head and you looked down to meet her gaze - her pupils were blown wide with lust, her cheeks gorgeously flushed, her hair tousled.

“We- fuck,” you started breathily, finding it almost impossible to think as Miranda’s knee pressed against your clit. “We should slow down.”

Miranda nodded, her eyes widening and her cheeks bright red as she reluctantly pulled her leg away from your cunt. You bit down on your lower lip to stop a whine from slipping out at the loss of friction.

The constable settled half on top of you, leaning against the back of the couch and propping her head up on her arm. She closed her eyes as she tried to steady her heavy, ragged breathing. “Right. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you whispered, your voice hoarse with want. “I just don’t want to take advantage of you.”

Miranda’s eyes snapped open and she met your gaze, a slow, easy grin spreading across her face. “You’re not. I want this.”

“I don’t think I just want this,” you mumbled, closing your eyes and swallowing hard. “I want you.”

“I want you, too.”

You opened your eyes and met Miranda’s bright, eager gaze, searching her face for any hint of doubt or hesitation. “Are you sure?”

Miranda nodded and you lunged forward, your lips crashing into hers as your hand snaked its way around the back of her head, holding her in place. Your fingers threaded through her hair - it felt like silk under your skin.

Your other hand settled on her waist, tugging her on top of you - her body weight pressed you down into the couch and you groaned at the feeling. You needed more, you wanted more, so your hands found the hem of Miranda’s t-shirt and you slipped underneath it. Her bare skin was impossibly smooth, and you felt electricity coursing through your body at the feeling of her soft hips in your hands. Your hands found their way up her back and you raked your nails over the expanse of it, pleased with the hungry growl that escaped Miranda’s lips.

Finding the clasp of her bra, you unclipped it, slipping a hand around to the front of her torso and under the loose fabric to palm her breast. She grasped desperately at your waist as your warm palm rubbed over her nipple, rolling it into a hard peak. Miranda let out a breathy sigh and sat up, straddling your waist and pulling her shirt off. Her bra followed, and both were discarded on the floor behind the couch.

You felt the air leave your lungs as you stared up at Miranda - your mouth going dry. Her rosy nipples contrasted against her pale skin, her abdomen rippled with every heaving breath that she took. You couldn’t help but reach out and touch her, caressing her hips, her stomach, her breasts - flicking your thumbs over her pert nipples and watching them harden further.

Sitting up, you hungrily took one of the rosy buds into your mouth, sucking greedily and soothing your tongue over it as you felt Miranda’s hands thread through your hair. You repeated the process on her other nipple, thoroughly pleased with yourself when Miranda let out a soft, breathy moan - one that was so deliciously pornographic that you felt a wave of arousal course through you, your panties growing damp.

You released Miranda’s nipple, your hands drifting down to the buckle of her belt and making quick work of undoing it. Miranda took the hint, removing her pants in a hurry and then focusing her attention on your own clothes. Your own shirt was unbuttoned and tossed aside in an instant, your pants tugged down your legs and dropped onto the floor with the rest of the clothing.

Miranda’s bare skin was hot against your own and you pulled her back down on top of you, your pussy throbbing as her nipples brushed against yours. You kissed her with hunger and passion, your left hand palming her ass as your right hand found its way between your bodies to cup her pussy over her underwear.

The constable groaned, immediately grinding against your hand - you noticed that she’d soaked through the thin cotton of her underwear. You pulled the fabric aside and curled your fingers against the length of her slit, letting out a gasp as you felt her dripping for you.

“I need you,” she whined, shuddering as your fingers explored her folds - letting out a strangled whimper when you smeared her wetness over her clit and began to draw lazy circles over the bundle of nerves.

Miranda turned out to be as loud as she was sensitive - you found it easy to bring her to the edge, time and time again, your fingers applying a gentle pressure to her clit and pumping easily in and out of her, her slick walls drawing your digits in and clenching tightly around them. Her unabashed moans filled the air, echoing off the walls of the living room and having you wondering - only briefly, though - how thick those walls were.

After her fifth orgasm, when the stimulation finally became too much for her, Miranda whimpered and shifted her pelvis away from you. Taking the hint, you pulled your hand out of her underwear, your fingers shining with her arousal. You lifted them to Miranda’s face, smirking when she immediately opened her mouth and allowed you to place your fingers on her tongue. She sucked them clean, her flushed cheeks hollowing out, her kiss-swollen lips wrapped around your knuckles.

You leaned forward to kiss her as she released your fingers, eager to taste the remnants of her orgasm on her tongue. The taste was heavenly - you were almost sorry that Miranda was so overstimulated - you’d have given everything to go down on her.

She pulled back from the kiss, her hot, heavy breath ghosting over your face as she rested her forehead against your own, trying to steady her breathing. A bead of sweat had collected on her forehead and you reached up to wipe it away, tucking a strand of mussed hair behind her ear. It was too short, of course, and immediately fell back into her face - it made you smile, and Miranda smiled - no, beamed - back, her eyes sparkling.

“I hope that wasn’t too much,” you whispered into the silence - Miranda blushed and shook her head no. Her fingers danced along the waistband of your underwear, lightly at first as she leaned in for a languid kiss. Then her fingers curled under the waistband and began tugging, her lips trailing down your jaw, your throat, your sternum, your stomach - soft, warm, wet, hungry. She tugged your underwear down your legs, her lips immediately replacing the fabric as she pressed kisses to your mound, to your inner thighs - finally disappearing between your legs.

You felt her tongue lap hungrily at your folds, little noises of pleasure coming from between your thighs and vibrating against your cunt. It was both adorable and extremely hot at the same time, how eagerly Miranda ate you out - sloppy, yet determined (and very skilled, you noted mentally, letting out a filthy groan as her lips latched onto your clit, her tongue flicking at the sensitive little bundle).

By the time Miranda was finished with you, your thighs were trembling and your breathing was ragged. The constable pressed one final kiss to your clit, before sitting up and grinning goofily down at you. Her chin was coated in your slick and her cheeks were flushed, and you couldn’t help but loop an arm around her neck and pull her close, licking your own arousal off her face before meeting her lips in a slow, sensual kiss.

After what felt like hours holding each other, kissing and regaining your breaths, you felt your eyes begin to grow heavy and you sighed.

“I should probably get going,” you murmured, your voice slightly hoarse.

“Yeah - of course.” Miranda blushed as she pushed herself off you. “Can you just wait here?”

You nodded, furrowing your brows as the constable stood and walked out of the room. You heard the tap running, then she came back with a wet washcloth.

“Is it okay if I…” Her eyes darted down between your legs as she took a seat next to you.

It was your turn to blush. “Yeah, that’s okay. Thanks.”

Miranda cleaned you up with great care, being extra gentle as she soothed the washcloth over your clit. When she was done, you got dressed in silence, then allowed Miranda to walk you to the door. She paused with her hand on the doorknob.

“Would you want to…” she trailed off, not quite able to meet your gaze.

“Are you busy Saturday? Would you like to go on a date with me?” You couldn’t help but smile as Miranda’s eyes widened and she began to nod, a look of relief washing over her face as her lips curled upwards.

“Yeah - I’m not busy, I would love to.”

“Good.” You smirked, leaning in to press your lips to Miranda’s - her breath hitched in her chest. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

You turned to leave, exiting the apartment and walking down the hall. Turning around to wave goodbye, you could see Miranda smiling as her head poked out from behind the door.

That night, you fell asleep with a soft smile on your face and a warmth in your belly - already mentally planning your date.

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weirdness55460 · 8 months ago

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@Ruby Sunday spare hand in marriage ma’am?

#doctor who #morgan liveblogs #the devil’s chord #doctor who spoilers #dw spoilers #the doctor #ruby sunday

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ficbrish · 6 months ago

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Chapter 1 - Transgression

Rating: Explicit 18+ only!

[Ao3 link]

[[TW/CW: Suffocating gender roles, gender dysphoria, rigid society, self-destruction, degradation, anonymous sex, references to past spousal abuse/marital noncon, death mentions, cptsd]]

Summary: The baron is dead, but recently-widowed Vistri still isn't free of his clutches. Suffocating in her gilded cage, she meets a rakish stranger alone in the woods at night. He might just be her key to shedding respectability and the weight of her late-husband's great name.

“I am sick with ballrooms!” Vistri proclaimed, throwing off her gloves and stomping out into the garden.

The frazzled housekeeper gave the other servants in the foyer a warning look: No one was to mention this outburst beyond the manor's walls.

Satisfied by the immediate flare of oath-like promises in all their eyes, the housekeeper hurriedly followed after her mistress, almost tripping over the footman collecting the fallen gloves. After a swift apology, she called out, “Baroness! Wait!”

Her impertinence, however, was already far from the reach of her mistress’ ears, swallowed up by a thick tree line. Vistri had torn through the mud as a shortcut instead of following the usual elaborate, stone path. She had no need to spare her dress, only to get away. To breathe air that the man who haunted her had never breathed.

Besides, her dress was already ruined. A pale, celestial blue silk turned black with custom. What was a mourning period to someone who couldn’t grieve? Other than a prison? A ruin of all color. A lack of society.

A reminder, that even after death, one was still just that old man’s wife.

Gasping, Vistri slammed her back against a tree. That dead man had claws and they reached up through the ground, snaking up her thigh like a vine. Growing and climbing to her throat, where it would cling and drag her down into his cold embrace. Never letting her go.

“Ma’am! You cannot go!” her own housekeeper forbade her. Her own staff.

Because they were his staff, not hers. Everyone who resided in that house served a man currently turning into dirt. Worms swallowed his flesh and shat him out, yet all the while, everyone he’d ever controlled still lived for him.

It was improper to go to a ball this early in her mourning period.

“It would be rude.”

Rudeness was ruin.

Well, her clothes were ruined! Salivating creditors showed up at her door before concerned neighbors. The cook refused to change the menu from his late-master’s preferences. And once Vistri was finally free of her husband’s willowy, lecherous fingers, she was to wait a whole other season before entertaining the possibility of another suitor.

Gods, it had been years since she dreamed of being touched. And when that cursed, old man drew his last breath, she felt her first shiver of lust. Celebration ached in her bones. Freedom was so near it ran away with all her senses.

A whole other year before she was allowed to be touched. And even then; a peck on her knuckles, the span of a dance.

Unless she wrapped another collar around her neck.

But even if she did want such a thing, who would choose to marry a widow over a virgin? Widows were Eve after the fruit. They'd tasted too much to settle for nothing ever again.

Perhaps that was why she'd given in to her housekeeper’s insistence with a childish fit, shouting, “I am sick with ballrooms!” as if it were her own idea and desire not to go. Then ran into the woods just because it was somewhere else, not within those walls.

She couldn’t breathe. The neckline on her dress was not very high but it was choking her. Vistri struggled with its buttons along her spine, but her damp, clumsy hands couldn’t undo them. She was as trapped in this dress as she was trapped in the confines of marriage. Of a woman’s role.

And just when she felt as alone as one could feel in the world, Vistri felt the presence of another.

Through the trees came the shape of a lone rider.

Her heart sank and then pounded sickeningly, the drumbeat fast in her ears as her mind raced with indecision; whether to run or stay absolutely still. She could barely hear her thoughts over its warning rhythm. The skies were darkening. She was alone. Even though this was her property, the forest was nature’s domain. If the rider was a stranger, his approach could bring death. If the rider was instead someone she knew, his approach could bring scandal.

They came into view of one another as she debated which was worse.

He turned out to be a man with silver hair on a silver horse. A stranger.

So death it is.

Vistri smiled and greeted him warmly, “Good day, sir.”

Too warmly.

There was a manner of pleasant surprise about the stranger, like his discovery of her were something slightly out of the ordinary, and not a threateningly strange moment.

Then he tipped his hat and said, “Or good evening, more the like.”

Vistri bit her lip, hating this man already. She couldn’t stand to be corrected on irrelevant details!

If he intended to kill her, she hoped he’d do it fast and not drag on with useless conversation beforehand. But some exchange of words was now necessary, because she'd already stupidly greeted him and he'd returned it. However, searching convention for an acceptable string of words proved impossible, for meeting upon a stranger in the woods, at night, as a lady defied convention. Unless said lady were a prostitute, in which case…

Her hand flew to the front of her dress. The delicate silk of its neckline was torn from her recent fussing, but the minimal damage did little to expose her. Even so, Vistri held a hand up to her throat in an instinctually protective gesture—As if ready to strangle herself; take the chance away from other hands.

“You are correct,” she said with nervous bitterness, “It is getting quite dark. Pardon me, such a thing escaped my notice—”

She would have finished with, “as we are on my property, of which I call home,” but stopped herself, realizing that such information may doom rather than save her. Landed gentry could fetch an exorbitant ransom.

The rider waited for her to finish, but she didn’t go on.

“And do you know what else escaped our notice?” he goaded.

Vistri remained perfectly still. In her determination to give no response, she enticed with a delicious, frenzied silence.

The man answered as if she'd shaken her head, declaring with a sly flair of his hand, “Introductions.”

“Are we to be introduced?”

It was a question that fell from her mouth thoughtlessly, thick and automatic. Something she’d said so many times before, it eventually became habit and the query lost all meaning. Her lips had spoken for her, mindlessly uttering words that invited rather than pushed away.

The stranger nodded, “In polite society, people are introduced to one another. But usually there is someone else to do the introducing. Whereas here there is just… you and I.”

She couldn’t tell if his slight pause was threat or seduction. Maybe this stranger just had a sick sense of humor. Vistri didn’t care either way. She just wanted whatever this was to conclude as swiftly as possible.

“Then I guess we must remain strangers," she shrugged, "Not one name shall pass between us.”

Unexpectedly, Vistri felt her heart patter with those words as they pranced off her tongue. Not because she was unused to being bold, but because it left open everything else that could pass between them. Everything but names.

He was still too far away for his expressions to be properly made out, but Vistri found her feet closing the distance. Suddenly willing to let the moment linger.

“Have you lost your way?” he asked with a wry look. Or perhaps one of apprehension.

“I have not.”

“And yet you are here,” his statement sounded almost like a question. Again, either threat or seduction. Death or ruin, “All alone.”

Alone.

How she so longed for that to be true. No other people. No heavy name.

“Do you take offense at that, sir?”

He paused, playfully, before answering, “It’s just that there are devils out here who would rob you of your purse.”

Close enough now to take in his face, Vistri noticed the show of concern it wore for the smirk it actually was. His riding clothes were fine but worn, like he often travelled around. Immediately, she took him for the rakish sort instead of a true gentleman.

He flashed a grin over that smirk, and added, “Or your virtue.”

Where there should have been fear, there was only a hollow drive fueled by something that tasted like brazen audacity.

“Only maidens can have virtue, and I am no maiden.”

“Well, well. What a pair we make. Only gentlemen can have virtue, and I am no gentleman.”

Vistri figured he could be an actor or a vagabond. Same thing, really. Both just as likely to do something nefarious, free from watchful eyes.

A long look passed between them, intense calculations being conducted behind their masked expressions. They were both spinning theories: What was the sum of this stranger in the woods? Who were they?

What would they allow?

“May I approach?” he asked, even though she already had.

“That depends. Is your intention to rob me?”

His chuckle was composed and a bit forced, prefacing his assurance that, “I am after a brief respite. Nothing more.”

Vistri nodded.

The stranger dismounted.

The ether shifted palpably as his feet met the ground. Upon his horse, they were passerbys. Whereas now they were on equal footing, and he was securing his reins to a branch. Their meeting had gone from a crossing of paths to a visit.

A tryst.

With no names.

If they were to be discovered even now, it would surely be the scandal of the season. Ruinous. Utterly and entirely ruinous. The prospect of such consequences was a bleeding itch that still felt good to scratch.

Light through the trees burned orange. Shadows around them grew thicker.

“My condolences.”

The sudden loudness of the man’s voice startled Vistri back to attention, “What?”

He gestured to her wardrobe, “Are you not in a period of mourning?”

Smirking, she said exactly what was on her mind, “There is a simple answer to that, and complicated one. The simple answer is a falsehood, and the complicated answer is something private that you are not privy to.”

“How disappointing. I do so love a complicated story.”

This time his smile brought Vistri's notice to his mouth. Truly seeing his features for the first time, she had the strangest urge to linger upon the sight.

“Then I give you permission to make one up. Tell me, am I in mourning?” she asked, not because she had something to say; just to watch his lips move again.

He seemed amused and surveyed her for a moment with crossed arms.

“Yes and no,” he finally said. “You wear the costume, sure enough, but there is more anger in your eyes than sadness—Shall I go on?”

Captivated by his accuracy, she nodded.

“You do not have the deep circles of someone in deep grief, but there is a weariness about you. As though sleep has eluded you. But the cause of that sleeplessness? That’s a bit harder to place... Perhaps whoever left your life, left a ghost behind.”

Vistri could no longer breathe. This man in the woods seemed to read her heart so easily, it made her wonder if she wore it on her sleeve. Were her ugly truths truly as hidden as she thought?

“That sounds complicated indeed.”

He gave a little bow, “I aim to please.”

She blushed at her own boldness, asking, “Do you?”

Another flavor of smirk graced his lips. This one more confident than teasing. He stepped slightly closer, just enough for her to catch wind of the heated curiosity brewing in his eyes.

That same heat sunk into his voice, “Is that something you’ve been missing?”

“How can someone miss something they’ve never had?”

It sounded more pathetic than she'd meant it, her words less careful with her mind racing and tripping so.

“Seems a travesty for you to spend your life without it. What a waste of a pretty thing.”

All she could manage to do next was breathe and watch his approach, until they were only a step away.

“What happened here?” he asked, gesturing to the ruin of her neckline, giving an impertinent stare to her chest.

His boldness offered her a way out. A reason to hit and spurn him. Or perhaps he was waiting for a sign from her to move forward. For her to reach out and caress him.

Or maybe she was reading him too kindly. He did admit he was no gentleman, after all.

Good.

Vistri longed to be reckless. To cross a line she could never uncross. To sever herself through time so that she could never be who she was now, again.

Arching her back, she answered, “It was choking me.”

The stranger clicked his tongue and cooed, “Poor dear.”

Closer now, his scent whispered to her through the forest lush. Sweet herbs and a hint of brandy that grew stronger with his next words.

“Do you require assistance?” he asked; a tender voice with rabid eyes.

With no idea what would happen to her if she said yes, Vistri nodded. Nothing that happened to her mattered. She couldn’t remember a time when it did. But she was a lady from a great family that bore a name heavy with greater history and property. She wanted someone to take that away from her. Make her nothing.

“There is a tear, here,” she pointed to the one on the swell of her breast. Inviting him to look.

He was captivated.

Not even her husband gazed so unabashedly. Vistri felt naked blushing under his stare.

“Do you think it can be mended?” she asked. Inviting him to touch. Her voice surer than her blood.

He obligingly brought a delicate finger up to her breast as it danced with the rise and fall of her rapid breath. Lightly tracing the torn fabric of her dress.

“Oh no, dear,” he spoke low, “I think it is absolutely ruined.”

She groaned and it sounded like someone else. Vistri was already changing from this dalliance. Even if she were to indignantly slap his face and get away now, she could still never be who she was before.

But the baroness did not deserve such a gentle death. Vistri needed to torture who she used to be in order to bury it for good. The baroness did not even deserve lips. Closing her eyes in surrender, Vistri allowed the stranger to take them. She didn't need those anymore.

He must’ve been the devil himself, because his skin was all fire and stars. The whole world dissolved in his touch, leaving only heat.

“Ruin it more,” she pleaded once capable of speech.

With a wicked smile, the stranger ripped her dress, exposing her bodice. She gasped. Her cleavage heaved in spherical waves and the transgression turned a switch, obliterating every hesitation.

Vistri reached into his coat for his trousers, running her hand along his thigh until she found the clear line of his arousal. He rewarded her with a moan that was almost too loud in her ear. It broke over her senses like a tidal wave, drowning her in desire.

Her back pressed into a tree. He pressed hard into her. Through their clothes they rutted and groaned and supped each other’s kiss like two young aristocrats who didn’t quite yet know the ins and outs of fornication.

Overcome then by a need to be caught in the worst position imaginable, Vistri dropped to her knees.

Unbuttoning his buttons, she sighed, “My late husband had such an ugly cock. Please tell me you have a pretty one.”

His fiery chuckle made the back of her neck prickle, like it had been hit with a ray of sun.

“By all means, be the judge.”

She obliged, pulling his trousers down to his knees. His alabaster thighs reminded her of those marble statues carved to worship the male form.

“Well?” he asked teasingly, “What do you think?”

“I didn’t know men had the capacity to be pretty,” she answered honestly.

His hands gently stroked her jawline, “I’d be even prettier between your lips, my sweet.”

Vistri eagerly opened up her mouth. It was surprising, how much she liked the way he guided it in.

“Easy now,” he sighed, throwing his head contentedly back, “There are so many other ways I’d love to defile you.”

Again, he seemed to magically recite the contents of her heart. Vistri had no idea it were possible for such passion to channel through her shallow, emptied form. She suddenly needed him. Needed to feel everything she could feel from this passing stranger, as much as she could carry with her and hoard for a lifetime.

The stranger took himself away, pulling himself out from between Vistri's lips just to push her to the ground. He did so roughly and with roguish gusto, breaking her fall in his arms. Dodging her kiss, he tossed her around; positioning her on all fours, lifting her skirts. Vistri couldn’t see his face, or anything that he did behind her. All she could do was savor his defilement on hands and knees.

His flaming touch.

“Why do fine ladies have so many layers?” he complained.

Maybe it was the break in intensity, but Vistri found herself laughing. Not just an awkward chuckle, but a full, hearty laugh. Something rich and cathartic she’d long forgotten the sound of.

Which quieted at the feeling of cool air meeting her uncovered skin.

All of Vistri's breath got caught within a small pocket of her throat. When the stranger's warm hand met her exposed thigh, she cried out from want alone.

His fingers laid claim to her first, undoing Vistri in a series of strokes. She cried out even louder with her actual ecstasy, a part of her hoping to be discovered. The deliciously devastated look on her housekeeper’s face when she found her mistress in the dirt, on all fours, reaching her critical period in a stranger’s palm, would be worth the lifetime of ruin.

Death never felt this good.

“Fuck me like a farm animal,” she begged, the pleasure tapering off of her awakened senses. No respected baroness got fucked from the back in the woods, on hands and knees, by a nameless cad. Vistri figured she could be the first.

They cried out together as he knelt between her legs and buried his root. He tore her open, and whimpering like a pup, thrust into her again and again. She rocked roughly back into his thrusts. Soon, she was coming undone once more.

He fiendishly pulled out as she was still pulsing around him, and panted his command, “Stand up.”

She groaned and dragged herself up into a very undignified crouch. Smiling down at her predicament, the stranger stood first. Vistri followed, needing more of his heat.

He took a moment to examine her state before coming in close, taking the burden of her weight off weak knees. With theatrical observation, the stranger spoke softly by her ear.

“Look at how you tremble. Weak from pleasure. Your body begging for more of mine as mine begs for more of yours.”

Forgetting the baroness, aware of only the stranger, Vistri leapt at his kiss, running her fingers through his silver curls with even more abandon than before.

“Mmm,” he moaned, “We are nameless strangers, and yet our bodies are so deeply devoted. What do you think? Should give into what they ache for?”

Again, he pressed her to a tree. This time hiking her thighs up over his waist before burying himself deep. Vistri shouted, answering yes over and over while he rutted with increasing speed.

Their mouths clashed until pleasure made it impossible. Ecstasy snatched them up simultaneously, and it ran through them both in violent shudders...

Too quickly, the strangers stood apart, jumping from the flames of the hells themselves, both the very picture of ruin. They looked at one another, covered in dirt, at various states of undress, in the darkened woods.

Colder now.

The man’s horse gave an impatient snort.

“He didn’t like our performance.”

Vistri laughed and admitted, “I thought it was all right.”

“Oh?” the stranger feigned offense, “Just all right?”

If any ounce of her marital act had been like this, she would’ve had a reason to grieve.

“Maybe a little better than that.”

They both stood there not knowing how to say goodbye. The horse snorted again.

“He doesn’t much like the dark,” the man explained.

“Right,” the night had fallen, “Well good evening, then.”

“Is it not night now?”

Impatiently, Vistri gave a bow and smiled, “Good night, then.”

But he stopped her as she turned away, unwilling to leave her alone in the dark wood. Vistri agreed to ride with him to the tree line but stubbornly insisted on going back the rest of the way herself.

At the edge of the forest they said their real goodbyes, sure they would never again cross paths. Maybe that’s why she left him with one last longing kiss before allowing her stranger to disappear forever.

[next chapter]

#vistarion #regency au #vistri #astarion #astarion acunin #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #full fic #astarion x tav #tav x astarion #down baroness fic #BrishFics #angst #smut #lemon

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