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velvetures · 10 months

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Honorifics

A/N: Yeah... I don't know about this. I'll probably take it down since I'm unsure if it's got enough of a consistent vibe. Let me know if it's actually something you enjoy since I don't write angst or hurt/comfort often. I ALWAYS WRITE HAPPY ENDINGS THO. That's a damn promise. Summary: You've given Ghost a title he hates, and takes it out on you. The situation goes too far, and you're both left trying to figure it out. Reader is nicknamed "Brass" since she's a long-distance shooter/sniper. T/W: angst, cursing, Ghost being an emotionally unstable human, yelling, the reader having a breakdown, smidge of not eating, smidge of not drinking anything, comfort, feelings, female reader, not proofread.

When you joined the task force, things didn’t exactly go as smoothly as you had hoped it would. Training sessions usually ended up with you either getting your ass beat or nearly surviving a full-on embarrassment by the skin of your teeth just to be told that you still weren’t in good enough shape to keep up with them in the field. Surely being a woman didn’t excuse you from being in shape for the kind of work Laswell and Price had brought you in for, but damn if it wasn’t difficult to try and have a one-on-one fight with someone like Soap or Ghost without the benefit you would typically have in a real-world battle situation. The reality that all of the men in the squad were literally the best of the best aside, there could be just barely enough room for you to compete on the same level when it came to sheer physical strength. While that wasn’t your specialty anyway, the Captain made it clear you needed to prove you could handle your own against serious physical fights without assistance. After nearly five weeks of having one of your squad mates slam you on your ass one too many times in the training hall, you finally were able to prove to Price that you could go out in the field and he didn’t have to extend any extra worries for your ability to survive.

Logistically as a sniper, it meant you frequently held a much more distant role in missions. By watching from a scope you could ensure that infiltrations, covert ops, and other hush-hush kinds of operations that typically the 141 wouldn’t have the luxury of. Being the skilled marksman you were, it made sense to take advantage of your talents and also extend you a job that progressed past what you’d experienced in your “standard” military career and multiple tours overseas. However, that meant communications were essentially the backbone of your usefulness aside from your rifle. Next to nothing else, your daily and mission-based work almost exclusively went through Lieutenant Ghost. Which… often proved to be the largest obstacle that you faced aside from making sure that your scope didn’t get bumped off sight the -often- rough flights and drives to insertion points.

The Lieutenant was particularly mean… he certainly didn’t give a single thought to if anyone thought that he was a little too harsh of a personality to swallow. That went for everything you came to learn about Ghost. From his lack of willingness to speak unless required of him, to his unique ability of appearing and disappearing from anywhere without the slightest sound or hint of where he’d come from or gone to. Trained as a distance marksman, even you were impressed that such a massive man could move around like smoke on water. That and his physical appearance; good god above. Surely a man like Ghost had never graced the face of the Earth before, else he’d have been just as mythical in his legendary life and would’ve been known by thousands of people. He stood towering over just about everyone, in whatever room he was in, and compared to your own height it was downright laughable the difference between the two of you as operators.

The one thing that made the biggest impression on you after meeting the Lieutenant was his voice and how he spoke. That thick accent always sounded rough and a little gritty. His deep timbre gave such a commanding authority that if given the choice between getting yelled at by Captain Price or Ghost… there was no choice you’d sit for hours listening to Price threaten you over Ghost. He just sounded so scary and attractive all at the same time. Unsurprisingly, it developed into a subconscious dynamic where you saw Ghost as such a superior officer -and human- that no matter how much you liked to daydream about Ghost in less-than-professional situations… You gave him the utmost respect at all times. Easiest of all to recognize was that from day one, you had never addressed Ghost to his face as anything other than ‘sir’. Not even his rank gave enough nuance to his character and presence, so for you, Ghost was inextricably attached to the name.

Ghost however… didn’t like it.

Such a simple address actually made Ghost grit his teeth beneath the shield of his mask. When he heard you call him that, he automatically related it to how he had called General Shepherd ‘sir’ as a subtle sign of mockery and defiance. Thinking about that made him more than necessarily angry and confused, but he couldn’t really accuse you of having ever been given much of a reason to detest him. Therefore, he had to come to the conclusion that you were doing it out of some kind of respect that a drill sergeant or boot camp instructor had bashed into your brain so hard that it stuck permanently. Not surprising since you were much different from the rest of the task force. Yet he had to revise that after the first six months of you being with them permanently. You had gotten settled in. Enough so that you called the Captain, ‘Cap’… Soap, ‘Johnny’… and Garrick, ‘Gaz’ like everyone else did. Exceptionalities only appeared when it came time for you to be around him or have any sort of interaction that wasn’t the occasional silent nod of acknowledgment when walking past each other in the hallways.

He honestly tried to ignore it and you altogether for that matter in an attempt to keep his bitter anger at a minimum. Seeing such a small and fucking happy woman always lingering around somewhere in the corners of his sight couldn’t be anything but a distraction waiting to happen. A bad habit that he didn’t have the mental capacity or emotional willingness to take on. Fuck… he already had to worry about the 141 as a whole, to begin with. Now you on top of that? It was more responsibility than he’d signed up for initially. Hearing you call him ‘sir’ day in and day out began to take its toll on his self-control. Ghost needed to either find out why you were hellbent on calling him that, or at least be enough of a bastard to you to be reassured that you did it because you wanted a polite way to tell him to shove it up his ass sideways.

The Lieutenant had been being nothing short of a prick in the last few months.

He was making paperwork back at HQ a nightmare that couldn’t be solved alternatively through someone like Gaz or Soap who often didn’t mind playing the part of the unbiased third party. Refusing to sign things when you stopped by his office, outright ignoring your necessary questions, and stonewalling you at every single stop along the way just to yield at the last moment and do everything you’d been asking for so the both of you wouldn’t face heat from any higher-ups. That alone was enough for you to consider talking to Soap privately since he knew Ghost the best… but you’d kept putting it off hoping that it was just a passing phase of shitty attitude.

Your patience and emotional strength fell through the floor after attempting for the third time in a week after something so fucking simple as trying to get his approval and official signature on a post-mission report Price had delegated to you after being called to Washington D.C. for a meeting. It wasn’t a major task, but knowing that the Captain had given you the responsibility first over anyone else made you want to impress him and take care of business without incident. God forbid you do something as simple as ask Ghost to pick up a pen and scribble his name at the bottom of a page so that you could send it on through the higher-up channels. It resulted in the Lieutenant straight-up yelling at you in the middle of the hallway outside his office when he’d found you standing there patiently waiting for him to show up. He wasn’t threatening physically, but it cut much deeper into your pride and feelings than it should have.

With every word that dripped venomously out of his masked mouth, you lost a little extra peace of mind on having such an untouchable and unshakably good opinion of Ghost for so long. This moment of undeserved verbal punishment was enough to make the corners of your eyes burn with inner disgrace, self-doubt, and plain old sadness which motivated you to get the hell out of there before the Lieutenant saw you cry. When you turned your back and walked away right in the middle of his berating for you being “too fucking annoying to tolerate”, your only destination was your personal quarters on the other end of the building where a lock on the door could shut out the entire base for as long as you saw fit. Upon the first estimation, it would be after Captain Price returned so that you could have at least one single chance at not getting a second punishment or dismissal from the squad. The sound of your door slamming shut and your back sliding down against it on your way down to the floor silenced the entire room around you, leaving just enough room for the papers clenched to your chest to flutter onto the ground and your weak cries to sounds amplified.

It was hours before you could drag yourself off the floor and into bed, too tired and wanting to fall back on the trained and instinctual desire to hide away somewhere isolated and not move for hours on end. Being a long-distance marksman gave you the talent of patience insurmountable to the average person, allowing days to pass by without you needing to do more than go to the bathroom before coming right back to a motionless position. That’s what you wanted tonight. You needed to focus all of your energy into your brain alone and use it to sort through the hurt burning through your eyes and throat, and the questioning that gave such a sickening feeling a chance root in your stomach. Questions of if it had been foolish to trust Ghost as much as you did the others, knowing how you’d been warned that he would be difficult to work with. Hoping you hadn’t been truly so ignorant of judging behavior to think that the Lieutenant was something much greater than his behavior had been not only today but for the past months.

The next two days were spent laying near motionless… not hungry or thirsty.

Just thinking, sleeping, and staring at the wall across from your bed.

A solid knock on your door was the first human sound that hadn’t been made by you in over forty-eight hours. You’d not looked at your phone or any communications since locking yourself inside, and there was a good chance someone from the squad had come searching for you after such a long period without seeing or hearing from you. When you refused to answer right away, another harder knock banged on the door twice and rattled the steel in its doorframe. Impatient. Testy. Quite familiar with everything you’ve been through lately. Recognizing the Lieutenant was the one outside made your gut churn all over again. Questioning whether to get up or not wasn’t hard. Laying perfectly still in bed, you waited. If you were being honest though, it’d been a long time since you’d spent so long restricting yourself from basic needs for the purpose of acting like a living phantom. Close to three years since any sniper position had left you utterly abandoned without resources. Only this time it was self-induced and nothing short of a trauma response you wanted to hide away from. Truthfully you couldn’t tell if walking to the door was an easy feat or not. After not drinking anything, using the bathroom wasn’t necessary and the last time you’d stood up didn’t cross your memory clearly.

Ghost slammed his fist against the door again one last time. But he didn’t wait long enough for you to answer before rattling the handle to the door with a heavy sigh that was audible through the cracks separating you. Metal on metal gritted softly and moved the door handle a bit further. Recognizing that as nothing short of Ghost picking the lock to your quarters without the slightest care of how he’d be breaking multiple stipulations laid out for them living in HQ. Either your physical or mental state kept you from giving a damn when the handle gave way fully, leaving a bright fluorescence light flooding in from the hallway into your pitch-black room. It made your eyes water and the urge to turn your head away was strong enough to budge your head into the blankets and pillow surrounding. Heavy boots made the paperwork scattered on the floor crunch softly and the sound of his deep breaths gave away his current state of frustration. Clearly not appreciating being locked out of a room that he had no fucking business being in. A long pause led to shuffling around, and the sound of your desk chair creaking under his weight.

“Gonna say somethin’?” He sounded no less irritated than the last time you’d spoken.

It made your throat burn to even think you’d allowed his to get in your head so deeply just to utterly rip every last bit of security and respect away from you for no damn reason. Your silence made quite the statement, even if the actual task of speaking hadn’t been a totally voluntary one. You’d not moved your jaw in days at this point.

“You’ve missed five drill sessions, two mandatory meetings, and one phone from General Shepherd.”

Listing off your offenses hardly bothered you. The consequences of this had been fully accepted days ago, and Ghost would have to do a lot more to get you up from this bed. You’d trained for hell, and no matter how badly Ghost had ruined your almost loving and patient view of him there weren’t enough men on the planet to make you get up voluntarily. Drastic… yes. Satisfying to your own pride… undoubtedly. When you didn’t even let out a single breath loud enough for Ghost to hear instead of that instant apology or willingness to appease him… please him even, with that little quip of ‘sir’ ready on your tongue, the Lieutenant was up out of that chair so quickly you heard it roll into the wall behind him hard enough to thud against the drywall.

“Goddamn it Brass, I demand a fuckin’ answer!” His loud bark caught your attention, but the feeling of your blankets being ripped off your body was a far more startling sensation.

Baring you to the cold air of the room, all your body managed was to raise chills on your skin in a feeble attempt to keep you warm or alert you to seek out that heat again. Tension exploded into shocked silence when Ghost didn’t utter more than a sharp inhale after getting one, shadowed glimpse of your body totally frozen on your stomach. You knew it couldn’t look great. Snipers could come back looking like skeletons sometimes after a long mission if they were given the orders to stay put. You’d not been laying nearly long enough for that to be the case, but dehydration was certainly a symptom you were ignoring quite easily, as well as the possibility of some minor pressure ulcers that would linger for a few weeks if you didn’t move soon. Ghost wasn’t as familiar with the sight of how you felt internally. Snipers weren’t commonly used or in collaboration with Task Force 141. You’d been their first real look at how the inner workings moved or didn’t, and much of your personal way of doing things had dispelled or blown away any misguided assumptions they’d made about your skills early on. Viewing a sniper after days of doing literally nothing, of her own free will…? That wasn’t healthy or accepted in general military companies. Lucky Ghost got the front-row seat though.

When you heard his movement next to you, weight pressed down the mattress at your side in the shape of his hands, and a low sigh registered.

“Brass…” Failing to even say something, you wondered if your own assessment of yourself wasn’t accurate. “It’s been five days.” His faltered tone was truthful, and it destroyed your semblance of time that had been misled by the absence of sunlight coming in through your room.

You thought about trying to say something, resolve falling flat when swallowing felt difficult. A gloved hand rested against your thigh and Ghost almost growled again, sounding a lot more like he was resisting the urge to squeeze you hard. Only his fingers traced along your hip and over the curve in your waist with a tense and heavy swallow. He was being gentle beyond your concept of his depth of emotion and understanding. Nearly loving as he paused over your ribcage with another pinched sort of sound. Staying like that for what felt like hours, you struggled to keep yourself awake. It had been a struggle to move your tongue in your mouth, testing what mobility you’d lost in the short term. Only Ghost wasn’t leaving like you expected, and suddenly his voice returned it its normal stature.

“This’s Ghost. Get a bay ready now, I’m bringin’ someone in.” The reverb of his voice crackled in a radio you knew hooked to his vest. A backup short-range alternative in the case that SAT couldn’t be established or wasn’t clear enough to rely on in the field. Apparently, he used it to keep in contact with someone on base. Or multiple people for all you knew.

“Copy Ghost.” A static voice could be heard and quickly the room was pitched back into a silence you wanted to remain in, but Ghost was adamant to keep infracting alone with a whole list of other rules that, for whatever reason, just didn’t fucking matter or apply to him.

His other hand searched around the dark until he found your face resting amongst the fabric of your bed, curling his hand around your head and meticulously lifting you so very slowly away from the bed with his other arm steadying your legs that had also been taken up off the mattress. You’d never touched Ghost once in all the time you’d known him. Understanding that with his sour attitude, there couldn’t be a single chance in Hell that touching him was an acceptable action. Whereas with Soap, Gaz, and even on occasion Price: hugs, handshakes, shoves, and other physical touches were common, Ghost totally ignored all human contact. Maybe Hell had frozen over outside of your quarters for your weak and still motionless body to be lifted up against the Lieutenant’s chest and carried preciously outside of your room into the burning light of HQ. His chest heaved deep and quickly against you. Both hands curled around you and flexed tighter each time you were able to hear another set of shoes approaching closer to you. Possessive like a soldier. Silent like a Ghost. Determined.

He takes you straight to the medical hall where three nurses and two of the on-shift doctors are fast to respond to your condition. Only Ghost refuses to let them take you away from him for any reason. Stoically stonewalling them just like he habitually did to you as they begged him to lay you down on a transport bed so they could take you back to a room for assessment. The Lieutenant took you there himself, with the group of nurses and doctors hot on his heels and surrounding your bed once Ghost had you settled down inside a private room.

The whole place smells sterile and like alcohol. It’s not the first time you’ve been here, but these are far different circumstances. You’re still too sensitive to open your eyes, but hands are all over your body, gloves fingers touching around the sore places on weight-bearing points on your body, pricks in your fingertips, and a needle poke to the back of your hand. It’s overstimulating, to say the least, and you’re worried they’re going to think you’ve tried to starve yourself to death or decided that living altogether wasn’t worth it and simply wasting away into your bed was the solution. Right away, one of the voices of the medical professionals breaks that worry in your mind by calling for some of the tests to be staggered, needing time between them for nothing other than your own benefit.

“Treat this no differently than prolonged active reconnaissance,” The female voice states softly. “Being on-the-gun for this long is detrimental to all senses, and she’s going to need a while to wake up in a meaningful way.” She added, voice coming clearer the closer she got to your head.

“You’ve been working very hard, I suspect. Maybe not in the field… but you’re one tough lady.” She commented to you quite personally, her hand falling to your shoulders. “We’re going to get you plenty of fluids and start you on a vitamin drip to get everything running as it should again. You’ve also got some slight bedsores, but as long as we take care of them now, you’ll be right as rain soon, sniper.”

Tests were run, treatments began, and nurse after nurse was brought in with both doctors running rotations in and out of your room for the rest of the night. All of them were under the hard watch of Ghost who’d not moved from his position sitting in the corner of your room where he could see not only you but anyone approaching the door. He’d been very quiet throughout the process, watching and waiting for someone to give him some news about your condition with actual certainty. Stewing over the guilt he felt knowing damn well he was the reason you’d shut down so far and were still unable -or unwilling- to come out of it yet. You’d been nothing but the perfect little woman, doing her job with skill and grace, making everyone around you happier just with one glance in your direction. But fuck, he couldn’t stand seeing someone do the callous profession of killing people with one single squeeze of her finger and still have so much innocent and emotional humanity inside such a small body. Ghost couldn’t wrap his mind around it. So instead of trying to do the right thing and figure it out, he did what a man so out of touch with empathy did: Try to snuff it out.

You threatened him whether you or he realized it in the beginning.

But now he could see it with that crystal fucking clear hindsight. How monstrous he was for punishing you with no foundation other than his own selfish fear of seeing a dynamic he didn’t know was possibly wrapped up inside of you. Sweet and little you, never saying anything to him other than a ‘yes sir’ or ‘no sir’. Goddamnit Ghost knew he’d nearly killed you in a way. Seeing days of neglect in your sallow expression, darkened under eyes, and weakened body was more than even his cold heart could take all at one time. Wasting away for someone as useless as himself, all because he’d never given you enough credit for finding something worth liking in him where no one else had. Screaming at you. Cursing your existence. Right in your face, while he’d been too big of a pussy to even take off his own mask he hid behind every day as he utterly destroyed your meaningful position and life working alongside of his and his squad. Owing you his life wouldn’t nearly cover his offenses. Laughably, Ghost admitted his own life or death couldn’t measure up to yours. So instead of saying any kind of bullshit apology, he sat in the corner of your room and denied himself sleep, food, and water because there wasn’t anything else he could do until you’d been considered healthy and strong again.

Almost one week to the day you had been signed off for return to duty with zero restrictions. Your physical and mental evaluations came back clean, and with both Price and Ghost signing off on the doctor’s orders, you returned to your quarters where you expected to see your room exactly as you’d left it before Ghost brought you into the medical wing. Only nothing was as you’d left it. All the paperwork left on the floor was gone, as well as the other documents that had been left on your desk that still needed finishing. All of it was gone. Your bed and all of the bedclothes you’d been taken from were also missing. Replaced with totally brand new bedding in dark hues of dark green and navy blue with a decidedly feminine pattern on the quilt. Items you didn’t own. Or have any idea where they came from. Even the smell of stale air was traded for a woody, and familiar smell that wasn’t of a candle, or room spray; It was from a person. The person who sat in the corner of your room in your desk chair with his massive arms crossed over his chest and dark eyes staring at you through the painted visage of a skull gracing a black compression mask.

“Sir,” You greet hoarsely, still working through some of the non-significant parts of your recovery that lingered. Ghost stood from his seat and met you halfway across your room with a silent nod, his hand reaching out and motioning for you to step closer to him. Warily but complicit, you make the few steps forward and watch his hand turn to slide against your jaw and stay there firmly. “I expected you to be at drill.” You say with a tinge of surprise at the touch of his bare hand resting against your cheek.

“Should be,” He replied flatly. “But I’m not.” You nod a little, biting your tongue when his fingertip rubs over the curve of your ear. His eyes were soft and his unarmored physique was highlighted by the shadows made by the lamp on your side table. He’s inspecting you, you know as much. Clear by his thumb pressing over your pulse point and the minute exactly that he waits before speaking again.

“Do you like the color green?” His question knocks you off guard and his eyes slide over the quilt laying neatly over your bed. You were quick to answer honestly out of mere habit.

“Yes, sir.”

His hand stiffens against your cheek, and Ghost takes another step closer. His boots graze the tips of yours and his chin is nearly tucked against his chest to look down at you properly. You’re breathing a little harder, anticipating another break of his patience and an onslaught of screaming all directed at your apparent mistakes made right in front of his face. Judgments you’d still be unable to solve no matter how much you thought about it or what you did to try and find a solution of healthy -or not- motives. Ghost doesn’t yell though. He actually lowers his face down to yours, eyes locked right on you and an intensity burning there.

“Why do you call me that?” His low growl made you shiver, especially when his hand dropped lower to your throat. Now squeezing, but holding your gaze steady on him, reminding you of his strength. The power over you he’d always held, and given you the instant to call him ‘sir’ in the first place. Everything about Ghost was overwhelming, and you’d always been one wave away from drowning under him.

“You deserve the honor…” You answer, certain. Even if he’d broken your spirit and came back in the aftermath with questions you still believed to be much too complex for a single-sentence answer. Hopefully, he understood a little bit better but the way you leaned against his hand, letting him actually feel the pressure of your throat pressing into his palm. Literally offering your trust in him over again, testing the Lieutenant and watching as his eyes widened. His other hand came up to your face, counteracting the pressure you’d applied to keep your breath and blood flow uninterrupted. His face is still only inches away from yours but unflinching at the close contact.

“Brass,” He murmured, masked face teasing closer with his own lack of control. “I’m not what you think I am.” Your chest tightens with his words, soaked in desperation that heats your lips and cheeks.

“What’s that, sir?” You question, earning another flinch of his fingers against your skin.

“Safe… Trustworthy… Honorable.” He replies, getting even closer. The smooth material ghosted over your lips, and his breathing fanning over you wetly through the damp material. You sigh, feeling lightheaded. Weak in his hands, confused yet happy to have your life held in the palms of his hands. Confused about where his mistrust comes from, but gaining perspective every time he flinches when you address him in the way you always believed he’d feel the most revered and… loved.

“You’re wrong,” You challenge, hands moving from your sides to run up the thin shirt covering his chest. “You’re a man of fear. One that death shakes at the mention of. Even looking at you through my scope a mile away is enough to remind me you’re capable of inhuman things…” Your voice lowers, hearing thoughts straight from your soul escaping without filter from your brain. “Yet you’re human. So much more than anyone sees. Because it’s not evil that keeps you going. It’s the fear and hatred of losing anything that means something to you.” Your hand rests over his chest, hearing his heart thundering against his ribs.

“You’re not a monster, you are terrified of losing everything. That is why I call you ‘sir’, is because you’re a man unlike any other, Ghost.”

Hearing your own voice say his name like that feels so foreign. Coming off your tongue with the letters not fitting together in a way that you’d experienced. But Ghost… he reacts differently. His hands tightened around you and he hugged you against his chest tightly. His chest heaves up and down and the thunder of his heartbeat impossibly quickens until your left ear can’t hear anything but the repetitive thrum of blood coursing through his body. Heavy arms snake around you, one around your head to secure it to him and the other clinging to your waist with his hand fisting into your shirt until it’s skin-tight on your stomach. The Lieutenant practically shakes against you, using your much smaller frame to steady himself.

Yet he’s dropping to one knee on the ground, bringing you down with him until he’s nearly cradling you and softly rocking your weight back and forth. Soothing himself in much the same way a child would after scraping their knee on the sidewalk and the tears have begun to dry up. God, it made the massive man feel so weak; much like you did after he’d yelled at you a week ago. Both of you kneeled on the floor now with all of your wounds opened up to each other and had silently found a calm within the eye of a destructive storm that had been raging against the pair of you while everyone on the outside had been simply looking on with bated breath to see how the ending would play out.

“Brass - I…” Ghost’s voice choked up again, his arms tightening around you. “God, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t ignore you anymore… I’m losing my mind.”

You lean into his chest harder, arms struggling to reach all the way around his wide back in an attempt to support him a little bit. You understood through the way he was grabbing at anything on you he could desperately. So you did all you could and rubbed your hand up and down his back quietly allowing him the time to work through his thoughts. Both of you had been hurt by this, and while the Lieutenant’s form of apology came in the way he’d ushered you for help when you needed it most and unquestionably been the reason behind the way your quarters looked. Now it was you, cradling a man who’d never shown a single crack in his armor, feeling the weight of so many emotional wounds that he was practically bleeding out with pain and palpable regret.

“You don’t have to…” You whisper, resting your forehead against his.

Ghost just nods his head, panting heavily and giving a low sort of whine. “I’m so sorry…”

You smile sadly. “I’m sorry too.”

His eyes soften more, blinking away at wetness brimming at his waterline. “Say it again… please. I need to hear it. God, please.”

“It’s okay…” Your hands cradle his cheeks, feeling the sharp lines and hard muscles. “I’m right here, Ghost. We’re going to do this over again… Together, Ghost.”

Nodding weakly, he meets your gaze as you say his name again. Reveling in it. “Together… together, with you.”

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #velvetures writes #velvetures #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending

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kookslastbutton · 9 months

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Reflections ༓ kth (m) | "Stay with me until the end of the day"

✑ Summary: As a new hire at one of the most prestigious jewelry brands in the world; Adrien & Rosamel in Paris, you've been trying to build your professional portfolio for months. So when global brand ambassador Kim Taehyung comes in for a photoshoot but his personal photographer is unavailable, the company offers the gig to you. Oh of course you take it in a heartbeat—it's a given.

pairing: brand ambassador!Taehyung x new photographer!reader

genre/AU: fluff, angst, smut, photography au, modeling au, s2l, two part series (duology?)

word count: 11.3k

warnings: exposes "dark side" of fashion world, oc gets insulted by fashion assistants (b-word dropped once but our oc bites back), flirty yet annoying videographer!kook, angry!seokjin, sunshine!stylist!hobi, charming!makeup artist!jimin, cool manager!joonie, Taehyung is an elegant flirt and not like the others, jazz bar date🥺, Taehyung calls her darling a lot, tehyung gets jealous, talk about long distance relationship, sexual content

sexual warnings: dom!Taehyung, sub!reader, explicit sex (use of condom), big dick!tae (it takes a bit to get it all the way in 😬), praise kink, lingerie, small jewelry kink? (He f's oc with their ruby necklace on), doggy, size kink, multiple org*sms, squ*rting, oral (f. Receiving), half a hand*b, f*ngering, overstimulation, little bit of breastplay, cussing, d*rtytalk, foreplay, a little expressiveness, mention of aftercare, Taehyung just adores hers, hot car make out, mention of morning s*x

now playing: Slow Dancing by thv

a/n: first omg i never reached 11k in my life. Secondly, shoutout to anyone who has seen Devil Wears Prada...a personal favorite of mine. Also Layover is omg the best thing ever! So i decided to focus on slow dancing for this fic. Pls enjoy ❤

How many twenty-something-year-olds can say they work at one of the biggest, most luxurious jewelry & fragrance brands in the world? And on top of that, are located in the fashion capital; Paris, France? A rare handful, and it's because of those reasons that they're given the lowest positions possible; you being one of them.

Sure, climbing the corporate ladder is possible with years of relentless dedication, raw talent, and of course, let's not forget connections with the higher-ups. But competition grows fiercer with each passing year as more eager young people gun for advancements in hopes of survival.

After all, who can afford to be stuck on the bottom rung forever?

You didn't want to believe the undertone theme in the critically acclaimed movie The Devil Wears Prada was true, that underneath the glitz and glam of haute couture are ruthless, cutthroat fashion moguls. But from the moment you stepped through the doors of Adrien & Rosamel in your coffee brown slacks and beige button down shirt, it couldn't be refuted–

No one was your friend and no one wanted to be.

Newbies must establish their professional value to the brand as early as possible to prevent being cut at any given moment. On the other hand, experienced professionals who have already earned their merit through decades of labor refuse to give up the stake to their claim and must be careful not to have the carpet swept from under their feet to a junior half their age.

It's a vicious race and despite its bitter nature, you're at the very heart of it.

As a fashion photographer, your ultimate goal is to have weeks' worth of sessions with models from all over the world; all adorned with timeless pieces from genuine gold watches to the richest of gemstones.

These are the types of photographers who are the best and brightest in the industry. They have at least ten years of experience and are booked until the very last second with modeling photoshoots.

The odd prodigy exist too; individuals who are born with an insane wealth of insight and skill which allow them to move up in rank faster.

You wish you were good enough to be considered a prodigy but no such luck. Adrien & Rosamel have insanely high standards on who is allowed to handle the jewelry, let alone be around the models who are so-called showcasing them.

So here you are day what—241? And still stuck taking photos of the same jewelry pieces day in and day out. Sure the theme of the photos gets changed slightly but it's been eight months of this generic work and truth be told, you're getting sick of it.

"__!" Seokjin, your coworker and one of A&R's jewelry polishers calls your name anxiously. He rushes to your side where you're taking close-up photos of a limited-edition steel watch. "Be gentle with this, will you? This is selling for 7,000 euros which means $8,000, 10 million south korean won, and 6,000 pounds. I also just finished polishing it so don't be getting your grubby fingerprints all over it!"

You roll your eyes and continue to move the watch around on the display table until you get a perfect angle. "Relax princess, I'm barely touching it and I have gloves on."

Seokjin's fluffy eyebrows furrow together, face scrunching at the nickname you chose for him. "That's—that's completely uncalled for! Do you know how long I spent buffering the face of the watch alone?! One hour __!"

You hate yourself from bursting out in laughter but this isn't the first time you've gotten lectured by Seokjin. Its like the tiniest detail would set him off. Seokjin's been with the brand a little longer than you; a year now, but he still has that constant need to micromanage everyone he can.

"Look," he continues his scold. "If anything happens to these priceless watches it's my head on the chopping block. I can't afford to lose my job __!"

"Yes, I understand Seokjin. Nothing will happen to these alright?" You move around the man to get more pictures of the watch lying elegantly on its side. "Don't you have about fifty other watches to shine or do you like nitpicking my every movement instead?"

Seokjin scoffs at you, sticks his hands on his hip and walks away with a disapproving shake of his head. "I have my eye on you junior," he warns.

You ignore his subtle jab and continue taking photos. "Creep," you mutter under your breath.

Ten minutes pass and you're about ready to move on to the editing process for your photos. You take a quick peek at them through your camera, clicking through the gallery with the right arrow button.

"Not bad newbie," you hear a voice come from over your shoulder that causes you to jump in surprise.

"What the fuck Jeon," you throw your best side-eye at the young man who happens to be your only acquaintance in the whole company. His role was similar to yours, but instead of photographing jewelry he films them; he's a videographer. "I'm beginning to think you like sneaking up on me on purpose."

The young man laughs with a child-like energy. "What can I say? Seeing you flustered does something to me. But actually, I was just passing by. Haven't talked to you in a while."

Come to think of it he has a point. You haven't seen Jeon Jungkook in about two weeks straight. The two of you aren't friends so you don't check up on each other constantly but you'd like to think you have good rapport.

"What have you been up to anyway? I've seen you rushing around the place like you have millions of appointments to make," you ask.

"I've become a busy man babe," he replies with a cheeky grin. "The higher-ups have noticed my talent and I'm playing with the big boys now."

"You talk about the higher-ups like they're Big Brother or something. Come on, tell me again but in laymen terms."

He sighs at the need to repeat himself. "Okay, listen. I'm working with the models now and more specifically I have a 2 o'clock gig with Kim Taehyung tomorrow. You know, our global ambassador? I'm shooting the film portion of the campaign we're running for him. Isn't that insane?!" His eyes glow up at the mere mention of Kim Taehyung who you are well aware of.

Everything about your famed global ambassador is a fashion photographer's dream; tall, lean, and tantalizingly handsome.

"Of course, I know who Kim Taehyung is. His face is plastered all over the walls of Adrien & Rosamel. Even saw his face on one of our company mugs. Anyone who's anyone will sell their left kidney to breathe in the same room with him but how the heck did you land a shoot with him this early? You've been here for less time than me!"

You're not shouting, you promise. Just extremely envious at the continuous luck Jungkook is having.

"Well," he starts drawling his words. "I might have gotten close with Park Ji-hun over the last month or so. His daughter in particular." You raise your eyebrows in awe.

Park Ji-hun has been Kim Taehyung's personal photographer for nearly ten years. And next to the model himself, he's another highly talked about individual at Adrien & Rosamel.

"Please tell me you didn't use his daughter for your own professional gain," you interject. Jungkook waves his hands around disapprovingly at your suspicion.

"I didn't, we went out on a blind date. I didn't know who her father was until half-way through the date."

"Mhm, something tells me that that's not completely true."

"Okay, so maybe her name sounded a little familiar but I swear, I didn't know they were the same person. But long story short, we started going out and I managed to win her father's approval. And now he's letting me shoot with him!" Jungkook's enthusiasm dies when he sees you doing your best to give a tight-lipped smile. "Babe, listen. I know you and I had a thing a few months back but....you're not still pining over me are you?"

You shove him in the shoulder at the ridiculous question. "We never had a thing. Stop it. I'm just trying to wrap my mind around your recent success."

Jungkook shrugs. "I guess its fate. And we definitely had a thing," he gives a wink. "Well anyway, I need to get to another appointment in ten. Jimin's gonna completely flip if I'm late."

Your mouth gapes open. "You're working with Park Jimin too? He's one of our best makeup artists, what the hell?"

"There are many colors that suit you __. Green's not one of them." Jungkook spins himself around and walks away from you. "Catch you later!"

"Goddamnit," you curse to yourself. "Is he Mr. Perfect or something?"

"__, we're gonna need the space in about five minutes." Another photographer calls from behind you, reminding you that you need to make yourself scarce.

The next morning is absolute madness with the news of Kim Taehyung's arrival in Paris.

As one of the most iconic brand ambassadors and haute couture models, he has quite an impressive fan following from countries all over the world including France. From the moment he steps out of his plane until the minute he enters Adrien & Rosamel, the man is constantly surrounded by masses of people all standing around with their phone cameras.

The company doesn't exactly give him a break from the high intensity of the crowd either. All the assistants working today are tasked with both meeting his requests and socializing with him while the rest of the team hauls around studio equipment for his photoshoot.

"Did you see the way he looked at me Ha-rin?" You overhear one of the assistants boast to the other while passing in the hallway. "I've had such a crush on him for years and I finally have the chance to meet him. I swear, I'll do anything he asks me to do."

"Oh my god, how dense can you be? Sure he smiled at you but let's not forget who it was he asked to get water from," the second woman spats back, raising the unopened bottle of water in her left hand. "It was me. I'm the one he wanted."

You snort at how snarky the two of them are to each other. As if Kim Taehyung would give so much of a blink their way let alone "want" either of them. You've never met the man but you've seen his face enough to know he could have anyone he desired. And it sure as hell wasn't going to be anyone from the company.

"Excuse me," Ha-rin stops in her tracks and speaks in your direction. "Is there something you find funny?"

"I'm sorry?" You freeze in place, unsure of what the woman's referring to.

"Don't play coy junior. You snorted at us, kinda nosy to be listening in on a private conversation."

Fuck sake, you are getting so tried of everyone calling you junior. You weren't given the name __ for it to be ignored at will.

"My apologies if it seemed that way. I assure you I was thinking of other matters." Your Majesty, you wanted to add but didn't.

Ha-rin body scans you as you speak and it immediately makes you feel self-conscious. The way she purses her lips can't be anything but venom that's about to spit out at you. "It better be that way. And by the way, those pants don't do anything for you. Maybe wear a dress next time," she slithers.

"Oh you mean like the dress you're wearing?" you reply. "No thanks. I'm not looking to impress anyone here. I have to get back to work now so you'll both excuse me," you bid them adieu and continue walking down to your office.

"What a bitch," you overhear one of them say and you clench your fists with tears brimming underneath your eyes.

Don't you dare cry __. Not here.

So some of your eye makeup got smudged from your incident with thing 1 and thing 2. You hate how much such a shallow jab got to you but, you're only human.

Coming into such a luxe company you expected this type of behavior. Yet your dreams are so much bigger than them. You'll push through like always.

"Hey," a knock pounds on your door. "Need to talk to you. Busy?" Its you manager Namjoon.

"No." You give him your full attention. "What's going on?"

Namjoon closes his eyes in a desperate attempt to calm himself down. "We have a situation," he starts.

"Okay...what happened Joon?"

"Our shoot with Kim Taehyung is in less than an hour and Park Ji-hun is nowhere to be found in the building. We called him up and looks like he had another shoot scheduled during the same slot. Must have been an overlook on our part, his part, I don't care whose fault it is. But we need someone to fill in right now or we're not going to have any material for our campaign." It comes out all at once and the feeling of whiplash washes over you.

"On top of that," he continues, "I don't want to waste monsieur's time. He just flew 14 hours from Seoul. So, can you do it or no?"

Oh my god...you repeat at least twice in your head before forming a response.

"I'd be very grateful for this opportunity but shouldn't this go to the next best photographer available? I only shoot jewelry on its own. I've never done—"

"You are our next best option __. All our photographers are booked with other models for the next three months. You've been here long enough to know how packed schedules get. Please, I've seen your work. It's good. And if you want an in for your career, I'd grab your camera and meet Kim in the studio in two minutes."

"Well I—"

"Yes or no __? Because I can always give the opportunity to another jewelry photographer. I'd rather not because they're techniques not as good as yours but I'll do it if I have to."

Your mind scrambles for a concise answer. You've been working towards something like this for months, doing your best to perfect your craft in hopes the higher-ups might recognize you as they did Jungkook. Yet until now it's been null; no one has made you such an important offer.

"I'll grab my equipment and meet you all in the studio," you decide. Your manager nods in approval and moves to exit your office.

"That's what I was hoping to hear. You'll be working closely with Jungkook, Jimin, and Hoseok. I'm sure you're familiar with them, no?"

"Yes sir," you reply. "Quite familiar."

"Jung Hoseok," the man with likely the brightest and most genuine smile you've ever seen shakes your hand. "I'm Kim Taehyung's stylist for this shoot. We're going for laid-back, yet elegant and refined for the studio shoot. Tomorrow we'll go with a completely free theme when we shoot at the beach. I have some specific fashion pieces picked out that I think he'll make pop for this campaign."

"That sounds great Hoseok. I wasn't aware we were going to a location tomorrow though." You don't mean to sound naive but you really were just thrown into this only minutes ago.

He lets go of your hand after the quick shake. "Yes, we have a two-day shoot planned. I know this is all news to you as of five minutes ago. And I'll do my best to help I'm any way I can. Park Ji-hun believes that the jewelry pieces and cologne picked out for Taehyung will be best suited in two places. One, in the studio to highlight the jewelry and two, at the beach to create an atmosphere for the cologne."

"Makes sense, thank you for filling me in."

"Like I said, I'm going to do as much as I can to help. Jimin get over here and introduce yourself to __." He calls to the pink hair boy who's busy sorting through his makeup palettes.

"Park Jimin," he walks over to you and also shakes your hand. "Makeup artist. Jungkook's told me about you."

"Oh god," you slip out and everyone chuckles. "Do I need to go hide somewhere now?" Who knows what Jungkook's said about you. Looks like he really is trying to get cozy with as many people as he can here.

"No no," Jimin waves of your slight embarrassment. "He just said you're an acquaintance that's all." You want to believe him but the smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth has you second-guessing.

It's not like Jungkook has a lot of beef with you or "secrets" to spill. He just had a big mouth, flirted with everyone in sight his first three months at the company and you happened to be his first target.

But no biggie. He's dating Park Ji-hun's daughter now, right?

"Love," it's Jimin's voice again. "Don't take this as any offense but I think you need a touch-up. Half your makeup's wiped from your face. Let me fix it for you okay?"

Well if you weren't embarrassed before you are now. Jimin's a professional make-up artist, surely his eyes are fine-tuned to the human face and pick up on make-up inconsistencies.

"Sure," you give in. "That'd be great."

Jimin walks over to his pile of make-up supplies and grabs a classic black eyeliner. "Close your lids," he tells you softly. He gently draws a wing over the lid that needs the most help and then, reaches for an eyeshadow that matches the other eye. "Okay, almost there. Just a few more brushes of this and you'll be good to go."

Though your eyes are closed you can easily distinguish the sound of a third voice.

"So you said yes huh?" Jungkook nears you and Jimin with a cheesy grin. "Now who's moving up in the world?"

"This is our first time working together Jeon," you reply. "Let's keep things professional shall we?"

"Oh please, you should be thanking me instead of giving me pointers on how our professional relationship should be." Jungkook snaps back and you stiffen at his words.

"Thank you? For what?"

"Namjoon didn't mention who exactly dropped your name as a potential candidate to clear up this little mess of ours? When Ji-hun told us he accidentally double-booked I immediately suggested you. I'm hurt you didn't know." He puts his hands over his heart as if pretending to be in pain.

"Wow, well you're right. I suppose I owe you my thanks." And here you thought people only looked out for themselves. Still, it's not like you and Jungkook are gunning for the same position. Him helping you doesn't exactly put him at a disadvantage.

You do feel more pressured to do well for this shoot though. Not only is it your first model shoot, and with all people, it happens to be with Kim Taehyung but it'll backfire on Jungkook if the photos you capture turn up bad. You don't want to imagine what that'll do to both of your professional credibility.

"Alright you're good as new love," Jimin pipes up. You open your eyes and mouth a thank you but you find the words turn into gibberish as the man of the hour finally rounds the corner of the studio.

"Monsieur," Hoseok is the first to greet Kim Taehyung as he enters the space. "Good to see you again."

"How are you Hobi?" Such an endearing nickname comes from a deep, honey voice. It charms your ears. Kim Taehyung stands straight with one hand in the pocket of his loose black slacks while the other rests near the edge of his matching black blazer. It's oversized with a basic, yet clean white t-shirt. Elegant yet, relaxed.

"Doing well, thank you. But I'm afraid you'll need to change out of these clothes soon. We have a perfect ensemble picked out that'll combine well with your style and the pieces you'll be showing off." Hoseok guides him towards the dressing rooms but as he does, your eyes catch Taehyung's.

"Monsieur," Jimin and Jungkook rush to his side at once when they see him looking over. "This is __." They gesture at you with a hand. "She'll be filling in for Park Ji-hun during the entirety of the shoot."

Taehyung's chocolate eyes study your features, your posture, and most of all your lack of movement as he waits for you to say something.

You bow realizing all you've been doing is staring at his flawless face. You've seen him on social media, posters, promo banners, everything, and anything but seeing him in person is not at all the same. "Monsieur," you greet. "It's a pleasure to meet you and to be working with you for the next two days. As the others have said, my name is __."

The man takes long, purposeful strides toward you. "I promise, the pleasure is all mine," he says with a hand moving to shake yours. His long, beautiful fingers wrap around your hand and pull you into a firm grip. "Thank you for stepping in for Ji-hun. And from now on, there's no need to be formal. You can call me Taehyung."

He then flashes you a smile that makes you begin to understand why the two assistants from earlier were so adamant on getting his attention; he's breathtakingly gorgeous. You feel yourself on the brink of a cold sweat at any moment.

"I insist everyone call me by my first name," he says. "I'm an easy man."

"But Mons–" you start but he quirks a brow at you in expectation to fulfill his request. "I understand."

"Do you model as well?" Taehyung asks casually after retracting his hand. "Sorry, I can't help but notice that you have a lovely bone structure. I like to paint in my spare time and sometimes I enjoy having live models as a reference."

The question takes you by surprise. Not many people bother to compliment your physical features expect maybe a few of your closest friends. "I don't model. I prefer being the one behind the creation, like how I'll be behind the camera with you."

He chuckles at your reply. "If you ever change your mind, I'd be happy to paint a portrait of you."

"Well thank you. I'm afraid I don't do nudes though." You really ought to shut your mouth sometimes. Of course, artists don't solely paint nude portraits. What are you saying?

The man in front of you ponders your choice of words for a few seconds too long then leans in towards your ear. Not so far that it's invasive but enough that you're the only one able to hear. "Again, if you ever change your mind....I'd be honored to paint you."

"Monsieur this is not appropriate to be saying."

"I'm not the one saying inappropriate things. I merely said I wanted to paint you as any artist would. You're the one that mentioned getting undressed."

Taehyung straightens himself back up and turns his whole body around. "Hobi," he shifts his attention to his stylist. "Show me what I need to wear today."

You're left standing with a baffled facial expression.

Kim Taehyung is the most elegant flirt and tease you've ever met.

After fifteen minutes Taehyung comes back to the studio in a shaggy grey button-down cardigan and plaid grey slacks. A gold chain necklace with a panther and tassle-like pendant hangs around his neck and on his left hand is a matching gold watch with a gold ring resting on his pointer finger.

They're all part of A&R's newest Panther collection and look nothing short of magnificent on him.

"We'll start with a few standing shots focusing on the ring and necklace separately," you say.

Taehyung nods in understanding and walks over to the studio setup that has a grey-ish purple green screen. Large studio lights hover on either side of the set to which Taehyung poses himself between.

He stands straight forward, eyes directly in line with the camera lens and jaw relaxed into a natural facial expression. It's a simple first pose to start off with but for a reason unexplainable Taehyung gives it new meaning.

It's takes you aback when you look at him through the lens of your camera. The closer you moves towards him to capture a clear shot, the more you're spooked by his intense eyes.

What makes it worse is when he decides to bring his pointer finger, the one with the ring, up to his mouth. His teeth latch gently around the gold band as it settles between his lips. You take several shots, adjusting the exposure on your camera as needed.

"Stunning," you hum in approval. Taehyung then slips the ring off his finger and again places it between his teeth. He tilts his head to the side to add to the flirtatious undertone of the pose.

"How was that?" He asks you after a few rapid flashes of the camera. "Thought I'd try something a little different this time."

"Came out perfect," you answer. "Flirty yet classically romantic. It molds well with our Panther campaign and brand. Suits you well too."

Taehyung's pleased by your words. "I'm glad you see it that way. I've always had a love for timeless themes. It's one of the reasons why I became an ambassador for Adrien & Rosamel. No other brand brings back the romantic past better."

"I agree with you completely. I fell in love with Adrien & Rosamel at a young age, around 13 I'd say. I always imagined myself to be largely integrated with the brand when I became an adult. Photography happened to help me get my foot in the door."

"Don't forget about me __," Jungkook interrupts from a couple feet away. "I got you this gig didn't I?"

Taehyung frowns at Jungkook's comment. "What does he mean?" He asks you. "Ji-hun specifically chose you to fill in for him didn't he?"

"Not exactly," you says with a flushed face. "Jungkook works closely with him and he was the one who recommended me to step in today. So I do owe him my life I suppose."

"You don't at all," Taehyung replied in a firmer tone than before. "He may have done you a favor but it's your talent that got you here. If your work wasn't good, do you think he'd take the risk of suggesting you?"

You stay silent as he continues.

"I've been in the industry for ten years, and no one lays their head on the line for you unless it benefits them in some way. Don't let him rob you of your achievements. And between you and me, I think he has an odd fixation on you." Taehyung lowers his voice. "Forgive me for being forward but he's not a jealous ex is he?"

You want to chuckle at the notion. "He's not, not at all." Taehyung laughs with you.

"So he's just a pain in the ass then," he says and you snort. "Had my share of them but not to worry. The best thing to do is to shake it off and in time, he'll realize everything you've gotten is by your own efforts and that you don't need his so called favors."

"Thank you Taehyung," you say, still a bit uneven as calling models like Taehyung was not what you were trained to do at Adrien & Rosamel. "We should probably move on with the shoot now."

"Sure, there's another pose I have in mind that I think will make the necklace stand out."

Taehyung steps away from you and turns around so his face is in front of the green screen. The cardigan he's wearing is cut to expose a large section of his back which allows pieces of the necklace to dangle against his smooth, bronze skin.

"What do you think? Does this fit the theme or does it look weird?" He rests one hand behind his head while the other raises above his head.

"Very artistic, hold the pose for me. Also, it's highly unlikely that you could ever look weird Taehyung." You focus the camera on the gold pendant. "You're a living and breathing aesthetic on your own."

"You know those are the same exact words I thought of when I mentioned wanting to paint you earlier. Seems like we see similarly don't we?"

"I guess we do, wow I never thought of myself as capable of having my own aesthetic. I feel like a carbon copy of everyone else some days." Once again you're stunned by his forwardness but you take it at face value. Perhaps he's naturally flirtatious even if he isn't meaning to be.

Taehyung looks over his shoulder at you and shakes his head in protest. "There's only one you __. You're not a carbon copy, so believe me when I say you're an aesthetic of your own as well. Which I would still like to get on canvas by the way."

"You're relentless about turning me into some kind of muse. I'm afraid I don't think I have the time, and neither do you now that I think of it. You fly back to Seoul after our shoot is over don't you?"

"I'm here for a couple of months actually," he surprises you with his reply. "Thought if I'm in Paris I might as well take some time to enjoy myself."

"That's fair. Now turn around again, I need to get a few more shots of the necklace."

"Your wish is my command." Taehyung faces away from you with a smile. He's decided he likes you. Maybe its a gift that Park Ji-hun couldn't do his photo session today.

"Do you want to know my favorite position?" Taehyung lays on his side with one hand supporting his head while the other clutches his elbow. The angle let's light from the softbox hit the gold watch perfectly, allowing it to be the star of the show; which is no easy task to achieve when it's Kim Taehyung who's modeling.

"No talking please," you respond, bending down on a knee in front for him. Your eye peeks through the camera lens to capture a good shot.

At your request, Taehyung does his best to remain silent but he can't help but notice your grip on the camera has gotten shakier. "Are you alright?" he asks with the tiniest smirk on his face. "Do you need a break? We've been going nonstop for nearly two hours now."

"Everything's fine Mon—"

"Taehyung," he interjects softly and slowly sits up from his position on the chaise lounge. "And here I thought we were starting to become comfortable with each other. Yet watching you struggle to hold that camera in place makes me feel bad. Let's pause for a few okay?"

You flush as he nears you, a tad embarrassed at the situation. You're a professional photographer which means you should be fully capable of moving forward with today's session without any breaks.

But you're palms are sweaty and all the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight from taking hours of close-up shots of the most handsome man on earth.

What's more, is that he keeps tossing out more flirty one-liners and finding ways to compliment you. And let's not forget your earlier exchange about the whole painting ordeal–wanting to put you on canvas and all.

No one warned you Kim Taehyung was going to be like this.

"What can I do to make you comfortable again, __?" He crouches directly in front of you with wisps of his honeyed locks dangling over his eyes. As he waits for your answer, the camera shutter clicks, getting a not-so-elegant close-up of his crotch.

Fuck. You didn't mean to take that.

"Too bad Hobi didn't give me a designer belt to wear. That would have made a great photo," Taehyung teases as he watches your fingers scrabble to delete the photo from your camera roll. "Imagine the kind of awards you'd win."

Oh god. You want to slap yourself awake now.

"Sorry," you rush to say anything at this point. "I think a break might be good after all."

"How about some fresh air? Last I knew it's a beautiful day out." Taehyung stands up and offers you a hand.

"You're offering to go out together?" You hesitate to put your hand in his at first but ultimately give in.

"Why not? It's up to you but I'd like to get some air in my lungs. Gets a little stuffy in here doesn't it?" Once he pulls you up he pulls his hand back. "Let's take a fifteen-minute break everyone," he calls to the rest of the team who nod and scatter in opposite directions.

"Fantastic." You hear Jimin talk to himself. "I've been needing to go to the bathroom for an hour already!" He scurries out of the studio as quick as his legs will carry him.

You and Taehyung find a quiet spot on the terrace above the company's enclosed garden. It's a recent edition the executives thought might give employees a small escape from the chaos of the day. And so far, it's been much appreciated. Being an unconventional hour to take a break, you're the only ones currently using the space.

"Can I ask you a question?" You cross your arms on the metal railing of the terrace and look at Taehyung beside you. He's standing calmly by the railing too with his hands in his pocket.

"Ask me anything," he replies.

"I haven't been in the fashion world nearly as long as you have but I know enough that people aren't as open as you are. You're much friendlier than most and I was wondering if you've always been that way. Even with Hoseok you call him Hobi, an endearing name."

He looks out into the distance at the perfectly trimmed bushes and trees, all square-shaped. "I became a model when I was 17. I hadn't even graduated high school yet when an agency recruited me. I thought it was a great opportunity until I saw the hunger for fame in my peer's eyes. Due to my appearance, I was given more chances to be on the cover of serious magazines like Vogue and Louis Vuitton but models who were there longer than me didn't. They were given shoots too but they were on a lower scale. Long story short they would scheme to get me in some kind of trouble so I'd get fired so they could take my place."

"I'm sorry that happened to you. I didn't want to believe that the industry was as vicious as I was told prior to entering it myself, but it is. So many of my coworkers can't wait to see someone fail so they can be promoted."

"It's a shame that it's like this __." Taehyung looks at you now, a serious expression on. "It doesn't have to be this aggressive cycle of stepping on the next guy to get to your ideal position. That's why I've decided to go against the current and make as many friends as I can. People I genuinely like tend to be my closest connections." His eyes soften at this as he scans your face.

"That's a nice sentiment but doesn't that open you up to being taken advantage of?" You think back to the two assistants from earlier this morning in the hallway. Seemingly friends on the surface but actually yanking on each other's hair below.

He shrugs and pushes a couple of loose strands of his hair behind his ear. "Sure it might but, I couldn't sleep peacefully knowing I earned my achievements by cheating everyone else out of theirs. Life's too difficult to not have a good night's sleep do you think?"

"True," you agree. "I wish more people had this sort of mindset."

"Well, luckily we can lead by example. I assume you run against the current too?"

"I try but I still have a lot of ambition so I can't say I've made any friends so far. Other than maybe Jungkook."

"Ambition is good, distinguishes the serious people from the non-serious. Friends aren't easy to make in our world __ and pardon me but that Jungkook guy isn't your friend. At most he probably has a crush on you."

"Jungkook has a crush on anyone with two legs and boobs," you chuckle and Taehyung does the same. "But he has a girlfriend now I think."

"Well, that's a relief." His tongue darts out to wet his lips. "I don't have to worry about him being a threat anymore."

You snicker at his comment. "What threat?"

Taehyung breaks into a shy grin and looks towards the ground. "Forget it, I'm just kidding around. We should head back inside. I think our time's about up." He moves to walk back inside the building but you stop him.

"Wait, no." You step closer to him. "I didn't get that joke."

He flickers his eyes up and down your body, taking in your curiosity. "You need me to spell it out for you __?" He pauses and takes a breath. "You're beautiful and I find myself extremely attracted to you. I'd–god forgive me if this makes you uncomfortable– I'd like to take you out while I'm still in Paris."

"Taehyung, that's....not a joke. Are you asking me on a date?"

"Yes, I'm asking you on a date. If you don't want to it's okay. Just say the word."

You smooth your hands down the side of your pants nervously. "Okay, what time and where?"

Taehyung's as shocked as you are by your response. "What are you doing tonight at 7 p.m?" he replies.

"Nothing, what are you doing?"

"Taking you out on a date I think. How's your dancing?"

"Oh I...I don't know. Depends on the type of dance. Why?" You know why. Of course, someone like Taehyung will want to take a slightly unconventional path for a first date.

"I want to take you to Le Duc des Lombards, you know that private jazz bar in town. So, if you can sway and don't mind being close to me we'll be in business."

"Alright." Don't overthink it, you think to yourself. It's just dancing. No biggie. "7 it is. I'll meet you there I guess."

"I can pick you up, actually, I'd really like to pick you up if I can. I know I'm such an old soul aren't I?"

"No problem," you can't contain your beaming smile. "We can exchange numbers and I'll text you my address."

"My phone's back in the studio. Let's do that before the end of the shoot."

"Shut the front door __!" Your best friend Elaine screams over the phone. "You're definitely wearing the sexy red dress I bought you for your birthday if you going to a jazz bar with, oh my god I can't even say his name. I'm so excited for you babe!"

"It's one date, Elaine. It'll probably not go anywhere either. I'm going into this as a fun night out with a very handsome man and that's all." You browse through your closet for something to wear. You've already showered and touched up your make-up. "Damn it, I have about twenty minutes before he gets here."

"I'm telling you __, wear the red one. Even if this will be a one-night thing it doesn't mean you can't look drop-dead gorgeous. Also, one more thing. What are you wearing for underwear?"

"Elaine!"

"What? If it were me I'd be looking as hot as I can tonight. Gives you a boost of confidence."

"Maybe," you say and pull out a black dress. "I'll think about it."

"Well think fast, because you're down to fifteen minutes now."

"Uh, shit." You toss the dress when you see there's a small tear in the strap. "Please tell me how I'm in the fashion industry and can't find anything to wear without holes in it."

"This is the last time I'm saying this __. Put on the red dress. It's more of a maroon so it'll make you blend with the mood of jazz but you'll pop out as well. And you'll look elegant with the silk sleeves and it's above the knee so you'll stay cool when you dance."

You card back the hangers until you get the dress Elaine is talking about. It's never been worn and it really is beautiful. "The neckline's kinda deep though," you say.

"You're boobs aren't gonna fall out if that's what you're worried about. I've seen the dress and it'll be great on your body. Plus, worst-case scenario you get laid by the hottest man in the damn universe."

"I'm not having sex with him you know..." you feel a blush creep on your cheeks. "This is a–"

"Fun night out. Yes babe, whatever you want to think." Elaine snickers over the phone.

"Fine, you win but I have to change now okay?" You set the phone down and start untying your robe. Are you wearing a transparent black lace set underneath? Yeah, but it's not like anyone's going to know about it.

"Don't forget to call me later! Or tomorrow depending on how tonight goes," she snickers again.

"Goodbye Elaine," you shake your head and end the call.

"You know what might look great with this dress is that ruby necklace I bought ages ago," you say to yourself. The necklace you're referring to is dainty yet never a let down no matter what you pair it with.

Satisfied, you head to your jewlery case in search for it.

"I see you found the place okay." You say once you hop into the passenger seat of Taehyung's Porsche. Man does well for himself.

"I did, and you look like a million dollars darling. Aphrodite herself couldn't even compare. I'm going to have the worst time trying not to stare at you tonight." Taehyung stands on the other side of your door and waits for your feet to be tucked in the vehicle before letting the door shut.

He insisted he come around and open it for you when he saw a glimpse of your figure walking towards his car.

"Darling?" you repeat inquisitively when he jumps in the drivers seat.

"Do you not like it? It's kinda old I know." Taehyung starts the car and puts the car in gear. He turns the wheel single-handedly and pulls out of your driveway.

There's something about seeing a man do this that always lights a fire inside you. Especially when said man is currently in a white, freshly pressed dress shirt, unbuttoned at the top, and dark grey dress pants.

"I like it," you say. "Darling. It fits the night well, since we're going go the jazz club. I like this look on you by the way."

Taehyung smiles at you briefly before focusing back on the road. The hand that rests on his knee shakes a little and his grip tightens on the wheel. "Hearing you compliment me makes me a little shy, sorry. But by the way, I like that ruby necklace you have on."

You smile and play with the chain. Always a hit.

The club is moderately crowded when you step foot in the building. The atmosphere is warm and inviting with the creme tones, bright white ceiling lights, and soft purple strobe lighting that shines from the stage. You and Taehyung are lucky to find a free table to claim on the end of the second row of seating.

"Have you been to Le Duc des Lombards before?" He asks, letting you take the inner seat.

"I came once but it was a long time ago when I was in college," you answer.

"Really?" Taehyung takes the seat next to you. "Where did you study?"

"Spéos photography school. A lot of wanna-be professional photographers attend there. I'm fortunate to be able to go."

"I'm glad you got to study there. I assume that's how you got a job with Adrien & Rosamel right?"

"It was definitely the main reason but," you sigh. "I did have some gracious references who help me get in, including Jungkook who went to the same school. As a videographer we were project partners a few times so he was a good person of contact. Along with a few professors of course."

Taehyung snatches the bar menu placed at your table, more aggressively than expected. "No offense but I'm really starting to not like that guy," he grits, jaw clenching. "From now on you can put me down for any further references. The photos you took look wonderful and you know I have some solid connections with some very important individuals."

"Taehyung..." You're amused by the peek of jealousy. "Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself? The photos need to be approved by our campaign managers first before any merit is given. Plus, you're not my boyfriend."

"Could be your boyfriend," he quips back and you whip your head in his direction.

"Hm?"

"Hm what? You heard me."

"I thought you said you were shy tonight," you accuse and lean over his shoulder to scan over the drink menu with him. When you do you get a strong whiff of his cologne. God, you love the smell of cologne. Would it be too far for you to grab him by the shirt collar and throw your face into his chest?

Yes __, too far. Don't do that. You waive off the thought.

"What do you want from the bar?" Taehyung asks and you give him your response. He heads for the bar in the back of the room as soon as you tell him, not even giving you any time to grab your wallet.

"Tae–" you jump up from you seat. "You don't have to pay for me. I can get my own."

"As my date, I'd be my honor to buy a drink for you __. But you can keep calling me Tae, it sounds nice coming from your lips." He turns around and continues to the bar.

Nearly two hours of live jazz music later and a few drinks later, you find yourself in a pair of long, sturdy arms. One of Taehyung's hands curls around your waist while the other laces in your fingers.

"You sway well," he drawls, pulling you closer to his body. I'd make you squirm more than you already are if it weren't for a bit of liquor in your system. "In fact, you're a natural. Makes me wonder what other areas you have a natural talent for."

"Okay monsieur," you playfully joke and continue to let him dance you in small circles. "We're getting a little close to the hot zone now."

"Are we? Must be because you're so unbearably hot. Did I tell you to look like Aphrodite in this dress?" Taehyung slips his hand from your waist. "Can I spin you?"

You nod and distance your body from his to prepare to spin into him. "If my memory serves right, you told me Aphrodite couldn't compare to me. Not that I look like her," you respond to his prior question.

"Ah that's right," he hums. "That's even better."

Taehyung's slender arms wrap around your waist when you get to the end of your twirls. Your back presses tight against his chest as he brings his lips near your ear. "You remember when I asked you if you wanted to know my favorite position? Well, this is one of them, darling."

Your breaths get shorter as you take in his charm and you're forced to look into the crowd of people in front of you. Most are busy dancing with their own partners but a few stragglers smile in your direction.

"You make a lovely couple," one older woman says to you both. "You'll make beautiful children."

"Oh we're not–"

"Yes, we will. Thank you, madame," Taehyung cuts in and you pull yourself from his hold to face him.

"Tae, what the hell are you saying?" His face sculpted from the gods themselves stares down at you in a devilish smirk.

"Is it too hot now?" He teases as he refers to your comment minutes ago about it getting too close to the hot zone.

"You're drunk aren't you?" You gently accuse with your arms crossing over your chest.

"I'm not." He snakes his arms back around you smoothly. "I have to drive you home tonight. What kind of man would I be if I got drunk?"

You let him pull you into himself again and this time when he does you feel the outline of an erection forming in his trousers.

Fuck, you curse to yourself, he's not small that's for damn sure.

"How are you feeling __? Getting tired or you wanna stay longer?"

You smirk. "I should be asking you that seeing you have a situation down there."

"Shit—" he quickly retracts his hands on your waist and backs away from you. "I'm sorry, I know we've been flirting around but I don't want to you to think that's all I'm here for."

"Its okay Taehyung, it's just a biological response," you try to soothe. "Don't worry about it."

"Yeah but it's because of you," he stresses. "I want you to know that I'm into you romantically and not just horny with lust."

Your heart clenches and your feet move to approach him on their own. You cup his cheeks with your hands and stare deep into his coffee-black eyes. "Taehyung, I've had my share of male suitors who have all been horny with lust and nothing else. I never thought for a second you were one of them okay? Plus, you're not the only one worked up tonight." You bite your cheek, unsure what'll come from admitting to the following.

"I like you too Taehyung," you finish.

"You do?" He asks with stars in his eyes, same blinding smile as usual.

You nod in affirmation.

"Is this the part where I get to kiss you?" His lids relax as he waits for your response.

"I suppose you can. Are you a good kisser?"

Taehyung snorts lightly and surprises you with a quick peck to your lips. But when he tilts his head back to look you in the eye again, you pull his face back to yours and press your lips fully on his.

Taehyung finds your waist with his fingers again the longer and deeper the kiss gets. He moves his soft lips on yours firmly then sucks on your bottom lip until his tongue is granted access into your mouth.

"Tae," you moan his name quietly. "People are starting to stare."

"And?"

You reluctantly break the kiss. "We should probably finish this in the car."

"I'd much rather have you finish in my bed though," he says before thinking it through. "Shit—sorry I did it again."

Taehyung's lips move against yours roughly as he makes out with you in the back seat. You decided I'd be easier to kiss without the center console getting in the way.

"You know I don't like putting out on the first date but...how long until you have to return to Seoul?" You tug his blonde hair as his hands wander up and down your torso.

"Two months," he replies, slightly pained. "That's actually something we should talk about if this is going where I think it is."

"Do you not do long distance relationships?"

"I don't know." He brings his lips to the side of your neck, sucking on the delicate skin. "I've never done it before. Have you?"

You shake you head. "No but I heard it's not easy."

Taehyung moves away from your neck to take your hands in his and presses a kiss to them. "I guess we have a few choices then. One, we stop here and sum it up to a nice evening out where I got to steal a kiss the most beautiful woman. I might cry myself to sleep later," he jokes but you wouldn't out it completely past him.

"Two, we make the best of it while I'm here. I'll take you out every night possible until I have to leave. We call it a temporary relationship of sorts. Or my personal favorite, we date with intent and I'll visit you every chance I get. I'll even relocate if necessary."

"God Taehyung, I don't even know. How can you decide so soon?"

"The moving part was too much, I know. I just meant that I want to be serious. Or at least give it a shot. But if that's something that doesn't work for you then we should probably stop here."

"I want to go out again though. I don't want to stop."

"So what?"

"Call me crazy but let's be serious. You're an adult, I'm an adult. Let's fucking do this." You go to kiss him again but he doesn't let you.

"Wait, __. You sure you want to go through with this?"

"I know there's a lot of grey areas to consider but I'd hate to miss out on something amazing because of a potential threat. We go out and if it works out well, then maybe...one of us can relocate. And if it doesn't then we gave it our best."

"Alright," he slowly leans his face towards you again. "If you're on board then I am too. Since we're doing it this way....do you want me to take you home?"

You shake your head in rejection. "Take me to your bed Taehyung."

"Just when I thought you couldn't get more beautiful you always make a fool out of me."

Taehyung traces down the curves of your body with cool hands as you stand in front of him in nothing but your black lingerie on. He's asked that your ruby necklace stay on too which did throw you off guard a tad.

His shirt is off himself, revealing his lean, tanned torso. His pants are off as well, showing off his his muscular thighs. No wonder he's one of the most wanted models in the world.

He's absolutely breathtaking.

"Is this designer?" He asks and you nod. "Of course, only the finest lace should be allowed to touch your body." Slender fingers dance across the cups of your bra, feeling the fabric carefully. He's not gropping at all.

"You're a flatterer aren't you?" You look him in the eye and your heart skips a beat. He's staring back at you with a similar intensity as the shoot earlier. Just like a panther, you think —alluring, dangerous, and incapable of escaping.

"Not flattering darling. Admiring," he responds lowly. "Can I remove it?" He leans forward to reach behind your back and graze across the hooks of the bra. His lips press a kiss to the space just below your ear as he does.

"Y-yes, please do," your voice hitches.

Taehyung unfastens the material from your body and you shake it off your arms and let it fall on the floor.

"Fuck," he swears and nibbles the edge of your ear while he palms your bare breasts. He thumbs at your nipples a little until their pebbling to his satisfaction. "Are you sure I can't make you my muse for my next painting?"

You chuckle and let him mouth at one of your breasts. "Maybe in time—oh god that feels good," you moan his tongue licks across you nipple.

"In time? Seems we've made some progress. You gave me a flat out no this morning." Taehyung lowers himself on his knee and presses a kiss to your bare waist. Its gentle and featherlike. He then fiddles with the edge of your lace panties as he did with your bra.

"That's because we were strangers, coworkers. However you want to call it."

"Mm, you have a point. May I?" He asks for permission and you nod with a small whine. His fingers brushing around your hips, nearing your ass only hightens your arousal.

Once he drags the thin material down your legs you step out of them and kick them to the side. Taehyung groans deeply when your center is exposed to him.

"Gods I want to lick this pussy so much. Will you let me eat you out tonight?"

"Fuck Tae," you card through his blonde hair. "Yes."

"Lets get you on my bed," he grunts, getting up from his kneeled position. He leads you to the edge of his bed where you crawl on top of his rich comforter, ass in full view as he follows behind you.

Once you're settled on your back Taehyung pushes your legs up and spreads your thighs wide open. He then crouches between them and kisses you inner thighs.

"You're very wet down here," he mumbles. "Do you want fingers first?"

"Three please," you request, already clawing at the sheets.

"Three?" Taehyung lifts his head to look at you. "You're certain you want to start with three?"

You chuckle. "I have the feeling that I'm going to need to take at least three fingers and your tongue before I can take your cock wholely. Correct me if I'm wrong."

He smirks and brings a slender finger up your slit. "No, you couldn't be more right." He pushes the finger all the way in, sinking between your velvety walls.

"Ohh," you moan.

Taehyung adds another, pumping and curling both fingers before adding the third. "So wet baby, do you hear yourself?"

The squelching sound of his fingers working in your pussy causes your core to clench and a streak of pearly white liquid to run down your thigh. Taehyung grows feral at the sight and starts pumping into you at a faster pace.

"Goddamn you're a sensitive one. When's the last time you were fingered?"

"Uh, I'm not sure. Probably two years ago?"

"Well allow me to reacquaint you with such pleasure."

Taehyung continues to work in your pussy with his fingers, hitting your g-spot with every push and curl. Strings of profanities leave your mouth as he does this and when he licks his tongue over your folds you scream in pleasure.

"Fuck Tae, don't stop! So good, oh my god," you moan and sink your fingers in his hair.

He doesn't stop at all, he doesn't slow down either. His fingers eventually pull out of you after a dozen more pumps to make room for his tongue to dip in your pussy. He teases your clit too which is all you needed to send you over the edge.

"I'm coming Tae," you say as your come on his tongue. He groans at the act and cleans up as much left over spillage as he can before moving away from your center.

"I love the way you taste," he licks the corner of his lips and makes his way up your body until he's hovering over your face. Taehyung presses a hard kiss to your lips after with traces of your come still on his tongue.

"Don't you agree?" He asks when he gives you a breath.

"I think I'd prefer the taste of something else instead," you respond with eyes flickering to his crotch.

He smirks and brings a hand up to graze the ruby necklace that's still around your neck. "You want my cock in your mouth baby? Wanna suck on it nice and firm between those pretty lips?"

"I do. Want to make you feel good too and taste your come."

"Mm," he groans. "Don't temp me darling. I'd really much rather come in your tight pussy."

"In a condom," you remind him.

"Yes of course, but still, in your pussy," he replies. "But who am I to deny you of what you want. Pick one, in your mouth or in your cunt?"

Your pussy clenches at his casualness. "Do I have to pick just one?"

"Fucking hell," he seethes. "You're a little greedy for our first time together aren't you?"

"ijuswansucuok."

"What?"

"I just want to suck your cock," you repeat. "But if I had to choose I want you to fuck me."

Taehyung gets off the bed hearing your words and sticks his thumbs in his briefs. "I'll tell you what," he pushes his underwear down to let his cock bounce free. It's huge, vein tracing up the underside, and leaking with pre-cum at the tip.

"I'll let you suck me off any other time because as you can see, I'm inches away from blowing my load already. But to make up for it, I'll let you have your pick of any position you want."

Your eyes train on his throbbing length as he crawls back to you on the bed. You know you should control yourself but you can't help but reach out and touch it.

"Oh fuuck," he clenches his teeth as your hand tightens around him. Your thumb traces his slit, rubbing circles on it. "God your fingers feel heavenly on me. But I need you to stop and tell me what position you want to be in, please."

"Doggy and can you make me squirt?"

"Yes fuck," he moans as you keep teasing his slit. "Face the headboard and get on your hands and knees."

You do as as he says and thank god you did because he was seconds away from thrusting up in your hand. Taehyung grabs a condom from the drawer by his nightstand and rips it open with his teeth. He then rolls it down his think length until he completely covered.

"Ready?" He asks you.

"Put it in me Tae. Need you inside me, please."

"I'm going to ease in alright? I'm pretty fucking big and I don't want to hurt you." At that he clamps his hands around your waist and starts nudging his cock into your entrance.

"Oh fuck—" you screw your eyes shut at the stretch. So good but he's right, he's too big. You don't know how he's going to fit himself all the way in you.

"Keep breathing darling and relax your muscles. We're taking this really slow until I can bottom out."

You do as he says as he continues to sink his length into you. "Taehyung, Taehyung fuck it feel so good but god you're a beast."

"I know and you're doing so good for me," he coos. "We're about halfway there. You're pussy feels amazing around me. Still wet with your come."

You grip the mattress and let out moan after moan. "You're only half-way in me? God I feel like I'm being split in half."

Taehyung pulls himself out of you then thrusts back in, gently but firm enough to jolt your whole body forward. He repeats the motion with each thrust going deeper than the last.

"Shit!" He groans as he beats himself into you. "So close baby. I'm almost all the way in."

"Taehyungtaehyungtaehyung," is the only word coming from you. All you feel is pleasure as he thrusts himself into you. It's been so long since you felt this good, and who the hell would have guessed it'd be Kim Taehyung to remind you of such feelings.

"There we go," he grunts as he finally, finally bottoms out. "There we fucking go baby, how are you feeling?" He asks as he picks up his pace.

"Fuck me—harder Tae," your moans are incoherent as your whole body to Taehyung.

The next ten minutes are nothing but skin slapping against skin as his cock beats inside of you, desperately working you up to another orgasm.

"Oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck," Taehyung pulls himself all the way back then snaps his hips back in, making you dizzy with arousal. "Look at you taking my big cock all at once. Just so eager to please huh? Like the way I fill you up?"

"Yes, yes I do," you pant, sweat dripping from your forehead. If you looked over your shoulder you'd see Taehyung doing the same. "I'm getting close Tae!"

"Go ahead and play with your clit for me then," he growls. "You must be so sore down there."

You quickly reach a hand down to your clit, circling it while Taehyung thrusts himself into you wholeheartedly. "Oh god, I'm almost there. I feel it Tae," you moan as the cord inside you gets tighter, threatening to break any second.

"Go on, coat my cock with your slick darling. Show me how good I'm making you feel as I rearrange your guts. You feel it deep in your stomach can't you? Fuck, I'm close myself!"

You grind your hips on his cock a few times and with that you reach your high, releasing all over Taehyung. But despite your second orgasm, his cock keeps thrusting into you.

"Can you give me one more? Need to make you squirt."

"Uh I don't know Tae, I'm not sure if I can c-come again."

"Yes you can and you will." He fucks into as hard as he can at that, no other words come from him other than deep groans. You on the other hand can't stop screaming.

"Too much Taehyung, I can't, please, need you to come. Fuck!" Despite your protest you are indeed close to a other orgasm; the third one of the night. You pussy uncontrollably clenches around Taehyung as his cock starts twitching inside you.

"Just a little more darling, getting so close. Gonna make you feel so good," he promises as his thrusts get sloppier.

"You already made me feel good Tae, want you to come too."

"I am," he replies, finally releasing. "Oh shit!"

"What? What is it?"

"You're squirting baby. Making a mess all over me and my thousand dollar sheets."

"Oh god, I'm so sorry-fuck. I'll replace them!"

"Like hell you will," he pulls out of you, ties his condom off and tosses in the trash next to his bed. He then flips you on your back and captures your lips roughly. "These sheets are mine and they'll stay mine just like you will from now on. As long as I can help it at least. Sound good?"

"Okay Taehyung," you nod. "Yours."

"Good, now how does a bath sound?"

"Fantastic," you exhale and close your eyes.

"Taehyung, Taehyung wake up." You shake the man by the shoulders next to you with both hands. "Get up get up get up!"

"What's the emergency?" He rubs his tired eyes as you move to leap up from the bed. You have the sheets wrapped tight around your body.

"We have a shoot at the beach with the team in half an hour! Hurry up and put your clothes on, you have to drive me back to my house so I can change into proper clothing."

"Why don't you wear one of my shirts or something?" He yanks your wrist towards him until you're forced to loosen your grip on his sheets and are forced atop his chest.

"Seriously? Why don't we just tell them we slept together at that point? You're crazy Kim Taehyung."

"You're making it sound like we had a one night stand," he pouts for the first time and you chuckle at how cute he looks.

"Of course it's not that Tae, it's just we still work together. We can't have them knowing we have a thing this early."

"Can we at least tell Jungkook?"

"No!" You playfully slap his shoulder. "Stop being so obsessed with him. He's got a girlfriend. Now get up, we really need to go."

"Alright, but give me a kiss first." He puckers up his lips and you concede by pressing your lips to his. "Are you a morning sex person?" He asks.

"No, we need to leave." You hop out of the bed and race to his bathroom.

"Goddamn it," he curses by himself. "Day one of being your girlfriend and she's already leaving you high and dry."

Taehyung throws the covers off his naked body and walks to the bathroom to join you in the shower—nothing but a big, happy grin on his face.

a/n: oh my gosh guys, this took me a long time. But I hope you enjoyed and lmk what you think 💞☺

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hikari-kaitou · 1 year

Text

This is Phoenix and Edgeworth's profiles as imagined by character designer Ms. Suekane. We got quite different answers from her compared to Takumi and the others!!

Phoenix's profile

Birthday: Maybe a Virgo? I kinda get the feeling he was born in September.

Blood type: O type. His attitude towards Maya and his fairly easygoing nature give me that impression.

Birthplace: Saitama, maybe? It's close to Tokyo but not on the same level because it's more rural. Maybe Saitama or Chiba or Ibaraki? But Takumi-san is from Saitama? Well, let's go with Saitama, then.

Non-work clothes: A hoodie. I want Phoenix to like wearing hoodies (lol). I can't think of anything else that would suit him. On the bottom, he'd wear cargo pants.

Living situation: He lives at his office. He's got a locker there where he keeps blankets and stuff to sleep on.

On his days off: He does nothing. He kinda just spaces out in the morning, then when noon comes he eats lunch and watches TV. When evening comes, he eats dinner, watches more TV, bathes, and sleeps. But if someone invites him out then he'll go.

Hobbies: Video games and stuff. Like fighting games (lol). I can see him with his controller going "tap tap tap tap" and smashing out combos. He might also play Dragon Quest or Final Fantasy or those types of games.

Favorite food: He's omnivorous. He'll eat whatever but he's kinda happy when there's meat in it. He loves meat.

Luxury foods: Diet cola. Beef jerky would be fine too (lol). He drinks alcohol but it doesn't show on his face much. Not beer, but like Japanese hot sake (lol)

Sports: Swimming. In general he's useless at sports but he'd be like "swimming is the only thing I'm good at." He seems like he'd get a little excited while talking about swimming.

Music: He doesn't listen to music. He'll go to karaoke if someone brings him, though.

Cellphone: He updates it fairly regularly, but because he always waits for the price to go down, he always ends up with one that's two models behind (lol).

His part time job in college: Something loose, because he doesn't commit himself to things… Like maybe he worked at a convenience store.

His type: I feel like he dreams about someone with abstract qualities like being "kind" or "domestic". Just thinking about those words gets him all starry-eyed and sighing (lol).

Edgeworth's profile

Birthday: He's an Aries, which means he was born on April 2nd or later. Let's go with April 2nd (lol).

Blood type: Type AB, because I feel like his emotions kinda have peaks and valleys.

Birthplace: Chiba. At first I thought Ace Attorney took place in Soga (a city in Chiba Prefecture).

Non-work clothes: A jacket, but not like a suit jacket, more like a casual one. Like from Paul Smith or something.

Living situation: A normal apartment. A lot of his furniture is Japanese handicraft stuff, and I feel like he'd put a lot of money into making his place feel Japanese.

On his days off: He goes shopping or on walks and has an elegant lunch. If he drives a car, it would be a silver one (lol).

Hobbies: Collecting western antiques and Japanese handicrafts.

Favorite food: Taro and meat soup (imoni). He has a favorite deli in his neighborhood that makes it.

Luxury foods: Whiskey. He enjoys it on the rocks.

Sports: He used to play soccer, but now he does weight training. He's got a defined six-pack.

Music: jazz. He listens to it while drinking his whiskey. Eminem fills him with rage.

Cellphone: A normal one. He uses his computer to send emails so he really only uses it to talk.

His part time job in college: Administrative assistant. He'd help with paperwork only when the office was really busy.

His type: Someone who doesn't lie to him. I have nothing in particular to add to that.

#ace attorney #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #my translation

2K notes · View notes

daisynik7 · 9 months

Text

Iris

And I don't want the world to see me, ‘cause I don't think that they'd understand. When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am.

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x f!reader

Rating: Mature – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~4.5k (I went way over than I was supposed to, lol)

cw: switching POVs (2nd person reader, 3rd person Eren), canon-universe, VERY canon-divergent, consider this a what-if scenario, major AOT spoilers up to season 4, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl position), fingering

Summary: At the Battle of Fort Slava, Eren Jaeger, hell-bent on launching his ultimate attack on Marley, injures himself to pose as a wounded soldier, granting him admittance to the hospital to finalize his plans. You, an Eldian volunteer working at the hospital, start treating this new patient, nervous about his mysterious demeanor. Eventually, you learn that you have much more in common with each other than you think.

Author’s Note: Thank you @ichinosejager13 for your second request for the y2k karaoke party! I did something totally different this time; I wrote a fic set in the canon universe. I thought it fit well with this song, so I hope you like it! While it’s set in the canon universe, it is very obviously canon divergent, so please remember I took a lot of liberties with this. I am in no way suggesting that any of this is what I wish happened in canon. I just think it was an interesting idea to write. Also, I understand that this will seem very out-of-character for Eren, but let’s just roll with it because it's all in good fun, lol.

Like, reblogs, and/or comments are ALWAYS appreciated! Thank you for reading! MDNI banner by @/cafekitsune.

Fort Slava, huddled in the trenches. Blade through his leg, bullet in his eye. This is the last vivid memory Eren can recall as he stands in line outside the hospital, waiting to be admitted. Some asshole Marleyan imitates explosion sounds, causing all of those around him to fall to the ground, cowering in fear. They suffer trauma from the battlefield, and even Eren, with a clear conscious now, is affected by it. A kid, another Eldian dawning the same yellow armband as he is, steps towards them, kneeling down to help them up. He even assists Eren, correcting his armband to his left arm instead of the right. Luckily, it goes unnoticed by everyone else, which is exactly what he wants.

It's all part of his plan; the attack on Marley. It’s been in the works for months now, starting with his infiltration of the army, fighting alongside Marleyans and Eldians alike. He thought he’d have better clarity of the situation, maybe get convinced to call the whole thing off after bonding with other solders through the tragedies of violence and war. Unfortunately, it’s only made him realize how much more he needs to follow through with it. Nothing will ever change in this cruel world unless he’s the one to do it.

There are days when he gets cold feet. He’s tempted to re-evaluate, find a way back to his home of Paradis, reunite with his friends, devise a better plan and figure it out together. But in all the futures Eren can see, his current plan is the only one that will work. The only one that will grant him the freedom he’s been chasing his entire life.

The process is slow to get a room in the hospital. Luck remains on Eren’s side when he’s assigned a private room. It’s barren; a single-bed, just long enough to accommodate his stature, withered sheets and rusted iron on the frame. There’s a small nightstand beside it with two drawers to hide his belongings, which is essentially nothing, and atop is a small lamp, illuminating the room in a dreary glow. It’s not luxurious, but it’s enough for the time-being. Because that’s all Eren needs right now: time.

Eventually, Zeke will find him. They’ve been contacting each other for a while now, and Eren has a firm grasp on what his older brother is trying to convince him to do with the Founder’s power. While he doesn’t agree with his idea to euthanize the entire race of Eldians, Eren needs to entertain it long enough to manipulate Zeke into letting him use his royal blood.

It's all convoluted and fucked up, he’s aware of that. Somedays, he wishes he could escape this curse without doing anything at all. That one day, he’d be gone from this world, liberated from his Titan power, saved from this burdened life. This isn’t what he imagined while reading all those books he and Armin would marvel at as kids. This isn’t the freedom he was hoping for.

He rests in his pathetic, yet oddly comforting bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. His leg and eye are still wrapped in bandages, so a nurse should be coming soon to check on him. There’s a faint commotion out in the hallway, but Eren is too lazy and too uninterested to investigate. Soon, it subsides, and the door swings open, revealing a women around his age, wearing a nurses uniform and the yellow Eldian patch on her left arm. He recognizes the attire from battle; the army had a few nurses stationed at the fort for casualties.

“Mr. Kruger?” she asks.

It takes him a second to remember the alias he decided to use. He confirms it, nodding his head silently.

She gives him a warm smile, introducing herself. “I’ll be helping you from now on.”

~~~

You started working at the hospital a few months ago. For Eldians, it’s nearly impossible to be accepted into higher education, so nursing school was never an option. With opportunities so scarce, your best bet was to apply for a volunteer position at the hospital in hopes of using that as a steppingstone for an actual paying job. You don’t expect a promotion any time soon, not even in the near future, but at least you’re spending your time helping others.

While it’s rewarding, it isn’t glamorous or pretty in the slightest bit. Because you lack the proper education, your tasks mostly include bathing, feeding, cleaning up any accidents or messes. Occasionally, if your patient is open to it, you spend time with them chatting, doing activities with them, listening to their stories. This is rare, though. Most that are admitted are Marleyans who refuse to speak to you because of your status. Some are even reluctant to have you help them in the first place. The Eldians, sadly, are usually too traumatized to open up, so you do your best to make them comfortable however you can.

When you meet your newest patient, Eren Kruger, you don’t expect him to be any different from the rest. You are, however, surprised at how young he is; he can’t be any older than you, judging by his appearance. His records show nothing except for his name and his status as an Eldian, which isn’t unusual, so you don’t think much of it. “Mr. Kruger, I know you must be hungry,” you start. “Lunch will be arriving soon. If you need assistance, I’ll be here to help you.”

He acknowledges you with another curt nod, remaining silent. You can’t help but notice how brilliantly green his eyes are. Have you ever seen irises like his before? You let the inappropriate thought vanish quickly before you ask, “Would you like me to bathe you now or after you eat?”

At this, his brows tighten. “Bathe?”

“Yes, Mr. Kruger. We can bathe you before or after lunch, it’s up to you – ”

“I don’t want to bathe,” he says, avoiding your gaze.

You blink at him, unsure how to respond. “Surely you must want to be clean – ”

He interrupts you again, muttering, “How can I, when I’m like this?”

You understand his hesitation now, not needing further explanation. Sometimes, patients with missing limbs have expressed concern submerging themselves in a tub full of water, not wanting to get their bandages wet. Quickly, you clarify, “It would be a sponge bath. We can do that while you’re lying in bed, actually. And your bandages will stay intact.”

This seems to be the answer he’s looking for. His expression relaxes when he says, “After. I want to do it after I eat.”

You smile softly at him, noting it on your checkboard. “Understand. I’ll go check on your meal now. Is there anything else you need from me?”

A beat passes before he replies, “Pen and paper. For letters.”

You write it, reminding yourself to bring it when you return with his meal. “Got it.”

A few minutes later, you return with a tray of food along with a wad of paper and two pens. You set it on his nightstand beside him, waiting for him to move it. When he doesn’t, staying still, staring blankly at the foot of the bed, you clear your throat. “Mr. Kruger?”

“I’m not hungry,” he murmurs.

“But you haven’t eaten all day. You need nourishment if you’re going to get any better.”

“And who says I want to get better?” He glares at you, startled by the intensity in his gaze.

You swallow hard, nervous, but still resilient. “You have to eat. You owe it to yourself after what you’ve been through.”

“And how would you know what I’ve been through?” His voice is steady, a hint of venom, barely enough to sting. But you’re determined. You sit at the edge of the bed, careful not to touch him. Reaching for the tray, you set it down on your lap, sighing. “I don’t know. I have no idea what war is like out there. All I know is that it’s not great for us here. At least out there, you’re fighting together as a unit. Marleyan, Eldian, it doesn’t matter. You’re working to defeat our enemy. And who knows? If we ever win the war, maybe life will be better for us here.” You shove the tray towards him, glaring back at him. “So the least you could do is try to see it through and survive, right?”

He studies you carefully, contemplating how to respond. Glancing at the tray in front of him, he smirks, scooping a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. You ease up, tension releasing from your shoulders.

After a few more bites, he speaks. “Who do you think the enemy is?”

Just when you thought you were in the clear, he asks you another question. “It was the Mid-East Allies. That’s who you fought at Fort Slava.”

“But who do you think the real enemy is?” He’s finished with his potatoes, now moving on to his meatloaf.

“Well, I suppose it’s whoever the government says it is.” You’re unsure what kind of answer he’s searching for.

“And if they say that we’re the enemy, then what?” He points between you, leaving you confused.

“We…?”

“Eldians. Devils.”

“No, no. The Devils are on the island. We’re…we’re not like them.”

“Are you sure?” He stuffs the rest of the meat into his mouth, chewing and swallowing it all down. “What makes you think you’re any better here than you are there?”

Your face feels hot now, and you start to stammer. “Because…because that’s what we were told. We’re on the right side. They’re on the wrong.”

His plate is nearly clean now. He slides his fingers on the remnants, licking it off before chugging half a glass of water. “What if I told you there’s a place for people like us? A place where you wouldn’t have to walk around with an armband. A place where you were treated fairly. Would you want to go to a place like that?”

You feel yourself drawn in by his words. The idea of it sounds impossible. Ever since you were born, you were taught to know your place in this world. That place was here in Marley, destined to be a second-class citizen. You were told that the island across the sea was full of devils like you, but because you’re here, you’re better. You can’t deny that you’ve been curious what life is like out there. All this time, you thought it must be worst, secluded on an island, hated by the rest of the world.

But is this life any better? Secluded in your own community and still hated by the rest of the world?

You pick the tray up from his lap, muttering, “I’ll go get your sponge bath ready.”

He doesn’t add anything else, watching you silently. You walk towards the door, ready to leave. Before you do, you say, “And to answer your question: I would.”

~~~

It was supposed to be innocent banter, that’s what Eren intended. He figured he could chalk it up to the trauma speaking for him, that she wouldn’t even be remotely interested in what he had to say. He thought she’d be like all the other naïve, brainwashed Eldians, ignorantly believing everything that was told to them. He realizes soon enough that he was wrong to underestimate her.

She comes to him every day, fulfilling her volunteer duties. Their daily routine begins with breakfast, then a morning stroll in his wheelchair out in the courtyard. Sometimes they’ll play chess at one of the tables, sometimes it’s checkers. Lunchtime comes, and then it’s time for a bath, one of Eren’s favorite parts of the day. Her hands are always gentle, gliding along his skin with a damp sponge. They’ll do another stroll outside, this time on his crutches, where he practices how to walk. Dinner arrives when it’s already dark out, and occasionally, he’ll ask her to read the latest news from the paper.

While all this happens, they talk. They talk a lot.

As expected, she figures out that Eren is from Paradis, though he bends the truth about his true intentions for being here. She doesn’t know about his Titan powers, thinking he’s a refugee seeking sanctuary here. Surprisingly, she isn’t offended about it; in fact, she’s curious. They spend most of their time together sharing stories of their childhood. Eren describes life in Paradis, she describes life in Marley. While there are stark differences between their upbringings, there are also blatant similarities. And together, they come to the gut-wrenching conclusion: Eldians are terrorized wherever they are, whether it’s here, or across the sea.

Eren has only sent one letter in the past two weeks, and that was to his friends back home, informing them that he is in Marley, safe and sound. He doesn’t disclose his plan to them yet. In all honestly, he’s not sure what the plan is anymore. Zeke still hasn’t found him, nor has Eren gone out of his way to be found. What Eren does know is that he enjoys spending time with the woman who helps him. So much that he’s losing grip on what he’s supposed to be doing here. He has to do something soon.

It comes to a head one night, three weeks after he was admitted to the hospital. Eren requests for another sponge bath after dinner; it was a hot day and he worked up a sweat during their afternoon walk. She helps him strip his shirt off, starting with the wet, warm sponge at his chest, massaging small circles onto his sticky skin. He watches her carefully, noticing her eyes lingering on his body more so than usual.

He speaks softly into her ear, leaning in close. “I have something to tell you.”

She continues above his waist, hands gently scrubbing, not bothering to look at him when she responds. “What is it, Eren?”

He’s thought about this all day. The plan. “Would you like to visit Paradis?”

This time, she does look at him, confused. “What?”

Louder now, and more confident, he says, “Come to Paradis with me. See what it’s like there.”

She scoffs. “I can’t just leave.”

“Why not?”

“Because this is my home.”

“They treat you like nothing here,” he argues. “At Paradis, you’re somebody. We can be safe at Paradis.”

She stops, tossing the sponge into the bucket of water beside her, frustrated. “Safe? After everything you’ve told me? You said it yourself; you’ve been terrorized by Titans since you were a kid. Every nation in the world wants Paradis gone. How can it be safe?”

He swallows thickly, gripping her hand delicately in his. “I can’t explain everything right now, but I have a plan. We have a plan.” He recalls one of the last memories he has of Armin, his brilliant friend, suggesting a small-scale Rumbling, enough to scare the rest of the world from attacking Paradis for centuries. He dismissed it quickly then, but now, he considers it. Could this be their best option? Instead of the billions of casualties Eren had originally devised? “You just have to trust me for now. Once we’re there, I can explain everything.”

She stares at him, clearly in shock from his suggestion. He doesn’t blame her. Eren is asking her to give up everything she knows.

“Eren,” she starts, squeezing his hand tighter. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

He smiles at her, brushing his thumb across her knuckles delicately. “I understand. I know it’s a big ask, and I shouldn’t have expected you to say yes. I just…I just think I know what I can do for Paradis to make it safe for people like us. Somewhere we can be ourselves, where people will know us for who we are, and not for what they see on our armbands.”

“It sounds like paradise,” she says quietly.

“It does. And I think I could make it that way. I know I can.”

She sighs, retrieving the sponge again. “I want to believe you, Eren. But I don’t think I can throw away my life for something I’m unsure of.” She starts to slide his pants off, ready to wash below his waist.

“Please, just consider it. I plan to leave soon, within the next few days. I just have to send out a letter tomorrow, and I should be ready to go.”

“You’re leaving? Already?”

“I know what I have to do now. I can’t waste any more time when we can end this war now.”

She peers at him, tears welling in her eyes. “I…”

“What is it?” He sits up, leaning in close to cup her cheek, brushing away her falling tears.

“Will we ever see each other again?” Her voice is trembling, lips quivering. His heart sinks into his stomach, seeing her like this.

He presses his forehead to hers. “I’ll find you when this is all over. I promise you. Whatever you do, don’t go anywhere near the shore, okay?” The small-scale Rumbling should only affect the fleets, which will be in the middle of the ocean, far from the shore. Still, he can’t risk anything happening to her. Not when he isn’t there to protect her.

She nods, not asking for any further explanation. He presses a small kiss to her forehead. “I’m going to do whatever it takes to bring us peace.”

~~~

Eren asks you to drop off a letter in the mailbox, addressed to someone named Azumabito. Apparently, she is an ally to Eldians who is stationed here in Marley, so she can arrange a ship for him to head back home.

There are still so many questions left unanswered, though you decide not to ask them. Maybe it’s foolish to trust someone you’ve only known for a month. But Eren has given you more truth about this harsh world that anyone else the entire time you’ve been here. And he’s the only one who’s ever promised you a better life.

Two days after you mailed the letters, you receive a response. It’s addressed to you, though you’re sure it’s meant for Eren. There’s a fancy insignia stamped to one corner of the envelope: a circle with a triangle in the center, formed by samurai swords. You keep it safe in your pocket as you head for the kitchen, ready to deliver Eren’s dinner.

He reads it when he’s finished with his meal. You watch as he scans the letter carefully, mouthing a few words under his breath. When he reaches the end, he looks up at you, a small grin on his face. “She’s arranged a ship for tomorrow morning, before sunrise.”

You gasp, surprised at how soon his departure is. “Tomorrow?”

He nods, folding the letter and tucking it beneath his pillow.

You let out a deep breath, unsure what else to say. Noticing your quiet demeanor, he reaches for your hand to hold it. “I know this is happening so fast. But I’ve never been more certain about what I need to do until now.” He interlocks his fingers with yours, smiling. “And you helped me with that.”

“Me? How?”

“By being you. By giving me a chance to explain myself. Even when you found out I was from Paradis, you didn’t judge me. You got to know me. It showed me that there are people, good people, on this side. That even in a ruthless place like this, there is beauty to be saved.”

You don’t say anything, throat too heavy with emotion to respond. Blinking away your tears, you take his tray from his lap, walking quickly to the door. Before you can leave, he asks, “Can you please come back to help me shave?”

Without turning to face him, you nod, exiting his room, stifling your sobs on your way down the hallway. Your heart yearns for more time with him. For the past few weeks, being here has been an escape from your painful reality. You’re not seen as an Eldian, you aren’t considered a second-class citizen. With him, you’re just you.

You know that you can’t keep him caged here forever. Like a bird, he’s ready to spread his wings. He’s ready to be free. While you’re heartbroken to see him leave, you’re thrilled for him to fulfill his destiny. All you can hope is that one day, you’ll be reunited in a better place than here.

You return to his room a couple of minutes later with everything you need to give him a close shave. His facial hair has grown out quite a bit since he arrived. You lather his face with a small amount of soap, scrubbing the suds off with a warm, wet towel. He closes his eyes, indulging in your relaxing touch. After mindful preparation, you begin to shave his goatee with a straight razor, pulling his skin taut, gliding the blade carefully across his chin, cleaning it after every stroke. When you’re done with his beard, you focus your attention on his mustache, delicately moving the razor until his skin is smooth and shaven. You smile as you wipe off any remaining residue with the towel.

With everything discarded into the bucket of water set on the nightstand, you take this time to admire his face, memorizing every detail. The flutter of his lashes, the bridge of his nose, the sharpness of his jawline, the plush of his lips. It’s only now that you realize how close to him you are. You’re kneeling beside him on the bed, noses almost touching, your fingers grazing his smooth skin. He opens his eyes to look at you, and his breath hitches at the intimacy, glancing at your mouth.

Before you can move, he closes the short distance, kissing you on the lips. As quickly as it happens, he pulls away, blushing. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have asked first. I’m sorry – ”

You cut him off with another kiss, hungry for more. It’s his last day; in mere hours from now, he’ll be gone, and you’re not sure when you’ll see him again, if ever. It’s crossed your mind many times by now, how it would feel to be with him like this. The feeling of his lips on yours, the slide of his tongue in your mouth, the taste of his spit. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you’ve never thought about it. In fact, it’s been on your mind every night as you fall asleep, wishing you were in his arms instead of alone in your bed.

He doesn’t pull away this time, sinking in deeper, slipping inside your mouth to swirl his tongue with yours. He’s just as sweet as you fantasized he’d be, luscious and rich in your mouth. His skin is smooth against your fingertips, tracing his jawline. One hand slides around your waist, tugging you closer to him, the other wraps around the nape of your neck, holding your head steady. You swing one leg over him, straddling his lap, hoisting the hem of your dress past your hips, revealing your panties. He moans, shifting beneath you in the bed to slip his trousers down, displaying his erection bulging in his underwear.

“Is this okay?” he huffs, catching his breath. His voice wavers, his only visible eye half-lidded with arousal, unable to keep his cool.

“Yes,” you answer, grinding yourself on him, kissing him sloppily. His grip is on your hips, guiding you to rut against his cock faster. The friction between you is enough to make you wet, your slick soaking through the fabric.

“You’re an angel,” he whispers, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth. “I want to make you feel good.” His thumb teases the elastic of your waistband, hand slipping inside to rub your clit against his fingers.

“Eren,” you moan, his sensual touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. He slowly slides two digits inside you, massaging your bud with his palm while he pumps his fingers into your sopping cunt. His cock is stiff beneath you, watching you ride his hand, cursing under his breath until you reach your climax, coating him in your arousal.

You’re breathing heavily, in a daze from your orgasm. He removes his hand from you, slipping it past his underwear to jerk his cock. You reach for him, tugging his bottoms down his legs, replacing his fist with yours, stroking him eagerly. He whispers your name, bucking his hips in tandem with your movements. You’re aching for more, desperate to feel him inside you, feel him deeper. You position yourself correctly, pulling the crotch of your panties to the side to tease the head of his cock up and down your folds. He sits up on his elbows, watching you with a nervous expression on his face. “Are you sure?” he asks.

You nod, smiling at him. “I’m sure. I want to be close to you, Eren.”

He swears, letting his head fall back into the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. You sink down on him, his dick stretching you out smoothly, still sleek from your previous orgasm. He moans, craning his neck to take in the lewd sight before him. “Oh my god,” he groans, thrusting his hips into you.

You ride him slowly, his entire length filling you up to the brim. He plants his feet into the mattress to fuck you deeper, the metal frame creaking with every thrust. It doesn’t take long until you’re both coming together. He shoots his load inside you while you gush all over him, creating a wet mess between you that you couldn’t care less about in the euphoric state you’re in. You lift off him, rolling to his side, relaxing into the pillow with him beside you, cradling you in his arms. He gives you a smooch on the cheek, nuzzling his nose with yours. “I meant what I said earlier.”

“What?”

“You really are an angel,” he says, smiling at you.

~~~

Eren wakes up alone, and he’s almost convinced that it was all a dream until he spots the small note scribbled on paper laying his nightstand.

It’s too hard to say goodbye, so I won’t. I trust you to keep your promise. We’ll see each other again soon.

With daybreak approaching, Eren leaves for the docks quickly with only the clothes on his back and letters in his pocket, including hers. With sunrise teasing the horizon, he makes it to the meeting place just in time. He recognizes Azumabito and greets her, explaining the situation as they board the ship. She informs him that they are waiting for several other passengers, so he makes himself comfortable by a window.

A few minutes pass and one of the crew approaches him. “Mr. Jaeger, there is a woman trying to board, claiming they are with you. Do you know anything about this?”

He glances out the window towards the docks and to his shock, he sees an angel with a suitcase in hand, talking to Azumabito. His heart races, overjoyed as he jumps out of his seat, sprinting out of the ship to meet her.

#eren smut #eren yeager #eren jaeger #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x you #eren yeager smut #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x you #aot smut #attack on titan smut #attack on titan fanfiction #eren fanfiction #y2k karaoke party #milestone event

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risuola · 5 months

Text

VI — YOU HAVE MY HEART — F. READER x TOBIRAMA SENJU

It's so easy to love you and it's even easier to admire how hardworking you are. You trained and became strong, you assisted in creating the ANBU leading the first unit. You were the pride and joy in Tobirama's life, but with all of that came also the fear. The terror of losing you.

cw: not much, it's mostly fluffy. it gets a little steamy towards the end, so reader discretion is advised — 2,5k words

note: when I was translating this chapter, I realized that the timeline can be a little blurry, though I tried to make it as clear as possible, but I'll summarize this here quickly: one year has passed since the wedding until the events from chapter V, then one year she was training and working in ANBU and then the mission took another year. so it's three years since they married ❥

SERIES MASTERLIST

Sometimes, you felt like you and Tobirama were meant to be. Like this whole arranged, political agreement was planned somewhere by someone who has way more power than you’d think, because even after nearly three years with that man, you still find it difficult to understand how on earth you worked so well when it’s more than clear that you shouldn’t.

There were just too many differences between you and your husband. He’s cold and stoic whilst you are warm and bubbly. Your calmness doesn’t make a fraction of how calm he is, or rather, used to be. You loved to touch him and for his entire life, Senju faltered from physical contact. And yet, all of it changed, when you stepped into his life. A princess from the foreign village, a diamond that was kept in the cage made of gold and luxury, a bird that was yearning for freedom and safety. Tobirama gave you both of these things.

The feelings between you two only solidified after the incident in your homeland. It’s almost two years after the unfortunate chain of events that led the young Senju to leave the negotiations in Konoha to save you from abusive ritual that took place in Yu; a pathetic display of parenting that your father thought was a favor to your husband. After that, and the little time you needed to heal completely with a help of one of the best medics in the leaf village, you had made a decision to go back to training. Ever since you moved, you spent your time learning topography of your new home, befriending people, helping – none of which you put into your own development and it’s only after you were defeated so easily, it got to you that everything that you thought you knew was not even a fraction what you should be able to execute.

That’s why for the months after that, you trained – mostly by yourself, but Tobirama was more than happy to help you anytime he had some spare hours. He found you admirable, the way you wanted to become the best shinobi possible even though there was no need for that. You were excellent even before, the idea of you lacking never crossed his mind and yet you stood up for the challenge and it was in his best interest to help you achieve the goal. You were, after all, his beloved wife, his sunshine, his pride. Quickly, it turned out that on top of all these things, you were quite deadly.

You began taking missions, standing on top of a group consisting of the best ninja from Konoha – ANBU, as Tobirama called it. A set of exceptional individuals, the most skilled ones available. It was a project that Senju wished to finalize, it was meant to provide the village with safety, with the strong asset able to infiltrate, fight and protect and you… You became the leader of it, representing the highest skill of them all and supporting him in establishing the unit.

Tobirama found you incredible, time after time finding himself in awe because of your achievements. There was no such term as impossibility, it seemed, everything he assigned you with, you finished with success, caring about your team well-being and the quality of the process. As much as he felt the endless amount of pride, his heart was also filled with fear. The idea of losing you haunted his dreams anytime you were outside Konoha, dealing with something he himself ordered you. The contradicting feelings weighed heavy on his shoulders – he wished to keep you safe and yet, it was only fair to give you tasks that were relevant to what you were able to do. It would be against his nature to spare you the difficulties, to limit your progress only because of the selfish want of keeping you far from harm. That led him to assigning you with one of the most difficult missions he had to offer.

“I’m gonna be honest with you,” he had told you the day before. You remember him joining you in bed late at night and the way he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you flush to his chest was enough of a hint. You knew him well. “I don’t want you to take that mission,” honest as always, and nervous when he spoke quietly. His roughed-up fingertips were circling little ovals against the delicate skin over your spine, his hand buried underneath the shirt that you used to sleep in.

“I know,” you replied, pressing your lips to his bare chest. Oh, how well you knew him. The moment he gave you the details of the job earlier that day in his office, you already knew how hesitant he was and once you read the description, you understood why. “But it’s gonna be fine, I promise.”

“How can you promise me something like that?” He found his way to your chin, lifting your head up just enough to look you in the eyes. “I know you are strong, you are the most skilled ninja I have, don’t think I’m underestimating you, love. But yet, I can’t help but fear, the idea of you not coming back from that job, from something I send you by my own order… it feels unbearable to think.”

Tobirama wasn’t a man that’s easily scared. In your entire time with him, spending so much time as his wife, you saw him worried at most, only few times so it shook you deeply, seeing his sincere eyes glaring at you in nothing but concern. The soft red shade of them looked straight through your soul, you could feel the way his jaw was tensed when you placed your hand on the side of his handsome face.

“I will come back to you, my lord. I know how dangerous the mission is and I would be lying if I told you that I’m not scared of it. But I also know how important it is, how crucial the data I need to gather is to keep Konoha safe and it is my duty to serve the village. It’s my home, I swore to keep it protected.” Your words were honest, Senju knew that. It was difficult, the hidden leaf stood on the verge of war, it was nearly palpable in the air and the information that you were meant to collect had a power to stop it before the blood of innocents was spilled.

The love you developed to Konoha was something Tobirama couldn’t help but admire in you. Despite it being a foreign land to you, you grew to care of it as if you lived here since the beginning. Truth is, you did feel like you were born in it. What hidden leaf gave you was freedom, was love. It showered you in things that before that, you only silently dreamt about, it was a place that you truly began being yourself, hence why you wished to give it back all of yourself.

“I know you’re gonna do your best. It’s just… I wouldn’t mind standing to fight later if you’d say you don’t want to take the job. I wouldn’t mind giving my life in battle if it could save yours.”

“Your life is too precious to be lost, Tobirama,” you leaned into him just slightly, your lips a breath away from his. “You are needed, you are so incredibly fundamental for this village to function properly, you have no idea. Without you, there would be no Konoha, doesn’t matter how great of a hokage your brother is. You are what makes this place a home to so many people, you are the mind and heart of it, so please don’t say such things.”

“It’s you who have my heart. If I have to risk losing it along with you, how could I be one for the village?” Senju exhaled, closing his eyes for a brief moment before closing the distance and pressing his mouth to yours. A kiss of love that’s indescribable, it bore everything that he was too afraid to word out loud. “Just… come back to me.”

“I will always come back to you, my love.”

The reassurance you gave, although carrying uncertainty, you followed with yet another kiss. The intimacy you shared later that night carried an unspoken goodbye, it was intense and oh so full of passion as if it was the last time you were to be so close.

Early in the morning, you were already gone, heading towards the unknown land where you were meant to spend the next weeks, working undercover. In the morning, Tobirama watched you leave, hating himself for letting you go as the sweet taste of the last kiss you shared still lingered over his lips.

* * *

“Later,” Tobirama groaned, responding to the soft sound of knocking against the wooden doors to his office. He was busy, digging through copious amounts of documents and reports, annoyed to the very core of his existence. His mind was already far in the future, balls deep in the upcoming negotiations that were meant to take place in Konoha in just few days. They were important, the safety of the village depended on the results and Tobirama made it very, very clear that unless the matter is absolutely, death-threatening urgent, he’s unavailable to anyone.

But the knob twisted and despite his objections and rough tone the doors opened and he couldn’t help but scoff. His blood was boiling, his brows creasing and even the deep breath he took, trying to calm down his nerves didn’t help at all. The rage inside of him burned with hellfire, it got him out of his chair, smashing his fist on the desk.

“I said fucking late—” he stopped. The sight of you, standing there in the entrance to his office made his voice catch in his throat. Was he even breathing? He felt like the world faded away, time slowed down and the chaos inside his mind calmed in an instant when his eyes met yours. He couldn’t believe, were you really here? In the last report he’s got from you, the one from a month prior, you wrote that at least twelve weeks will be needed to finalize the job and yet here you were, standing just few meters in front of him. After a year.

“I heard you the first time, my lord,” you chuckled softly, watching how his expression changed from rageful annoyance to surprised confusion. It was a display of emotions you were yet to familiarize yourself with, giving Tobirama’s spare range of expressions. “I was told you’re busy and expecting no one to bother you, but I took the freedom to disobey.”

The Senju stood there, flabbergasted for a little longer before his head dropped. A wave of laughter that shook his body made all of his tension go away. You really were there, he could see you, feel your chakra. After long, twelve months of undercover mission he gave you, the one that required you to stay in Iwagakure, gathering intel of governmental nature you finally got back. You had not seen each other during that time and Tobirama had only received few letters from you, all of which being more like short reports about the mission status rather than lover’s notes. But now, you were here, safe, alive.

“You came back,” he said, his voice so much lighter than what he greeted you with. Tobirama took a second to look at his desk, assessing the piles of documents before he pushed everything to the side. Papers flew off and scrolls unraveled on the floor but he couldn't possibly care less about any of those, when you were here, finally after a year of absence, in a flesh and bones. Being so messy was unlikely of him, you had never met someone more organized than Tobirama, but to him, it was more important to now have you on this desk, rather than documents.

“I promised I’ll come back to you, didn’t I?” You smiled, pushing the doors closed behind you and approaching him, placing the box with all of the reports and information regarding your latest work on the floor, before you circled the furniture, meeting him finally.

“You did,” he replied, finding his way to press his lips to yours. His large hands pulled you closer by the back of your neck and you hooked your arms around his shoulders, burying your fingers in the silver strands of his hair, scratching his scalp gently and causing him to purr into the kiss. It tasted sweet, addicting, with the longing being carried through every movement of his lips and tongue. It was heavy with feelings, breathtaking, nearly suffocating with how much it bore, how many unspoken words, how many worries that were now releasing. Tobirama pulled you towards himself, your body now flush to his own as he made you lean against the edge of his desk. It took no time before you were situated on top of it, with his large frame between your legs and his hands wandering all over the lines of your figure.

Tobirama was hungry. He had no idea how much until he saw you, until he tasted you. You taught him how to love, you opened the world of intimacy and touch to him, you showed him the pleasure of marriage and once you took all of it away, he was lost. The need to have you close was unfulfilled for such a long time where he couldn’t even see you, it left him with the burn of craving inside his chest. He was incomplete without you, unable to focus as much as he would usually do, his mind was wandering to the places where your image was stored.

“I missed you so much, my love,” you whimpered, feeling his lips smearing the wet traces of kisses along your neck and down your throat. At that moment, he was not caring about the marks he was leaving, he wanted to make you his own again. Nothing else mattered, only you, the taste of your mouth, the sweet scent of your skin. He would love to be more romantic, to welcome you with something more appropriate – a nice dinner, some pretty flowers, but being romantic was never his strong suit and frankly, things like bouquets and food were last on his mind, when he had you near his body.

“Love,” he groaned against your pulse, his hands making contact with the bare skin on your sides where he pushed the fabric of your black blouse up. He missed you so damn much. His body longed for your touch, for your skin flush to his, for everything that came with you.

“I thought you were busy, my dearest,” you teased, your voice soft and playful as you run your hand down his stomach. It was risky to do so in his office but he did nothing to prevent you from reaching his manhood and as you did, you stroked him gently through the fabric of his pants. A breath hitched in his chest, your touch burned him with lust, he felt like a fire was consuming him just because you put your touch over him.

“I am,” he muttered, sucking a spot onto your neck, reminding your body to whom it belongs to and you gasped softly at the feeling of his lips against your delicate skin. “God, I’m so damn busy.”

» NEXT PART

TAGLIST: @garouaddict @bluebreadenthusiast @nelivv @drthymby @humongousdreamlandbear @darlingxoxo15 @gaozorous-rex-blog

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hunny-bean · 1 year

Text

Sugar & Spice

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader

Summary: Frank likes you best in blue. Happy Anniversary!

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit Sexual Content, Oral Sex (M & F Recieving), Fingering, Unprotected P in V, Obnoxiously Fluffy at Times, Lingerie, Teasing, Light Bondage, Kinda Mean Frank, Sub Reader. Ok, I think that's it! Let me know if I missed one.

A/N: Needless to say, I'm expanding my comfort zone. I added a splash of mechanic!frank because he's a guilty pleasure of mine. Sorry if he's a little OOC, it's hard to imagine Frank untraumatized and in a happy relationship. Anyway, I hope this turned out alright. Enjoy! Let me know what you think! XOXO.

P.S. I'm open to requests, if you've got any cool ideas! I love writing, but I have experienced writer's block many times before, so I may need a little assistance at some point. I'll write for any Jon Bernthal character as well as a plethora of others that I don't have time to list. If you want to ask for another character, just take a gamble and I'll let you know if I can do it! Also, nothing immoral or illegal, please. Sorry for the insanely long author's note.

You may proceed :)

Read on AO3

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

'Curse this stupid lighting,' you thought, examining your makeup in the floor-length mirror. The dim yellow light bulb in Frank's walk-in closet was seriously throwing off your perception of colors. For example, you were pretty sure your blush was looking natural and sweet, but there was always that slim chance you would look like a clown in a different room.

You were tragically forced into the closet by the sound of Frank's keys rattling in the lock. Before that, you had been enjoying the luxury of a bathroom counter. Unfortunately, Frank only had one toilet and you figured he might need it, so you grabbed your bag and sprinted to the closet the second he opened the door. Under no circumstances would you let Frank catch even the slightest glimpse of you. At least, not until you were finished getting ready. You were planning a surprise, after all.

When Frank finally got home, he instantly knew something was off. Usually, when you spent the night with him (which was most nights), you'd come meet him at the door whenever he finished up at the garage. You'd slide through the kitchen in your fuzzy socks to give him a hug and a kiss and ask how his day was. It had become such a routine for the two of you, that when it didn't happen, his first thought was that you weren't there at all.

Frank pulled his boots off and hung up his jacket before wandering into the kitchen to see if you had left a note. Maybe your roommate had another "crisis," he thought, or you had to make a quick run to the grocery store. Finding nothing, he grew slightly concerned. It was very unlike you to just take off without so much as a text explaining why.

Then, Frank heard a faint rustling noise coming from the bedroom. He smiled softly, all of his previous worries evaporating as he went down the hall to see what you were up to. You were probably just taking a nap, he thought, but when he got to the bedroom, you were still nowhere to be found. Frank was just about to try calling you when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the light on under the closet door.

"Hey, baby. You in there?" he asked, knocking gently.

"Be out in a minute!" you called back, fluffing your curls that you barely got done before he showed up.

"Whatcha doin' in the closet?" Frank asked, and even through the door you could hear the amusement in his voice.

"It's a surprise," you replied deviously.

"Come on, darlin', you know I hate surprises," Frank griped.

"You'll like this one, I promise," you proclaimed. "Just be patient."

Frank sighed dramatically. "I wanna see you," he grumbled. Smiling, you meticulously straightened the bow you added to pin two small sections of your hair behind your head.

"Oh, trust me," you muttered. "You will."

Taking a step back, you admired your full body in the mirror. You had bought this underwear set a while ago, and were just waiting for the right occasion to use it. It was a beautiful baby blue color, and it hugged your body perfectly. The bra was a short, sheer corset top that showcased your cleavage without being too obnoxious. The panties were soft and lacy, pulled up high in the sides to accentuate your hips. They weren't quite a thong, but they certainly came close. Decorating both pieces were small embroidered cornflowers that made you feel pretty and delicate. On top of it all was an elegant lace robe that you somehow managed to find in the exact same color. It was almost completely see-through and it barely brushed your mid thigh, so you weren't worried about it obscuring any of your best assets.

You looked good. There was no denying that. In fact, you couldn't think of a time you'd ever looked better. You just hoped Frank's heart was strong enough to withstand the sight of you.

Quickly, you added your finishing touches, brushing on your favorite lip gloss and putting in a pair of dainty diamond earrings that Frank got you for Valentine's Day that year. You gave yourself one more once-over in the mirror. Everything was perfect. At long last, you were ready to execute your master plan.

You were a little nervous, but what you were about to pull off wouldn't work if you let it show, even just a little bit. With that in mind, you took a few deep breaths and rolled your shoulders back. Holding your head up high, you slowly opened the closet door.

When you stepped out into the bedroom, you found Frank laying on top of the covers with his arms positioned behind his head and one leg propped up. He was barely doing anything, and still he was the picture of dominance. Even while wearing a plain black t-shirt and jeans, he looked incredible. In fact, just seeing him was enough to have you fantasizing about crawling on top of him and hiding your face in his chest. But alas, you could not. You had to stay strong.

As soon as Frank saw you, his eyes lit up like a little kid's on Christmas morning. He immediately sat up straight, looking utterly dazzled. It seemed you were right. This was one surprise he could get behind.

"Do you like it?" you asked beguilingly. You gave him a small spin, showing off all the intricate details.

"That's the stupidest question you've ever asked, sweetheart," Frank replied, rising to meet you across the room. "You're a fuckin' angel."

He pulled you in by your waist to leave a soft peck on your lips. Seeing his mouth shine with your lip gloss when he pulled away made your heart skip a beat. You weren't always a possessive person, but that changed when you discovered what it felt like to leave your mark on someone. Especially someone as desirable as Frank Castle.

"Happy anniversary, baby," Frank drawled sweetly.

"Happy anniversary." You were sure you were smiling like an idiot, but you couldn't help it. You and Frank had been together for four years now, and it felt like the shortest lifetime you'd ever experienced. The love you felt for the man in front of you was stronger than anything you had ever felt before, and you knew in your heart that would never change.

Frank wrapped his arms around you and pulled you back in for another kiss, this one considerably longer than the last. The two of you stood there for a while, making out while your hands explored the familiar planes of each other's bodies. Frank was fucking your mouth slowly with his tongue, kissing you like a promise in the way he knew made your knees weak. You almost gave up on the plan right then and there, but your excitement for what was to come later that night saved you from falling into the trap.

You reached a hand down between you to palm at Frank's growing erection. You heard him let out a low hum, and you felt the vibrations travel from his chest through yours, relaxing you from the inside out. It didn't take long for him to start pushing back against your warm hand, seeking some relief, but he didn't find any. . .

because that was when you stopped moving. You pulled away from the kiss, keeping your hand perfectly still and looking up at him sweetly through your eyelashes.

"What time is it?" you inquired, focusing all your energy into keeping a straight, innocent face.

"Uh. . . 'bout 6:30?" Frank was obviously not thrilled that you had stopped kissing him to ask that of all things. 'Perfect,' you thought maliciously. Unable to fight it any longer, a sly, excited smile slowly overtook your face.

"It's dinner time," you whispered.

Before he could react, you slipped out of Frank's grasp and sauntered away to the kitchen. You went straight to the pantry to gather everything you would need to make spaghetti and garlic bread, and set it on the counter next to the stove.

When Frank was finished staring blankly at the wall, mystified, he joined you in the kitchen to find you filling up a pot with water at the sink. He crept up behind you, wrapping you up in a hug and leaving a soft kiss on your cheek.

"What'd you do that for, hmm?" He was using a voice that you were all too familiar with. It was the voice he used when he wanted something from you, and most days it had you folding instantly. He sounded so condescending, and it was playing right into your more submissive side. He was being an asshole, but he was just such a hot asshole, and somehow it always. freaking. worked.

Except it wouldn't work today. You would make sure of it.

"Go sit down, Frankie," you requested, gesturing to the bar behind the sink.

"Dinner can wait a little while. Your tomatoes aren't gonna go bad in an hour, sweetheart." You shut off the faucet and tried to move over to the stove, but Frank tightened his hold on you, refusing to let you go.

"I'm hungry," you complained.

"So am I," Frank teased, making sure you could feel the proof of his statement pressed up against you. You rolled your eyes at how audible his stupid smirk was.

"I'm trying to make us a special anniversary dinner. Now go sit down, Frank."

Frank knew you weren't actually upset with him, and he wasn't stupid so he knew what you were doing. You weren't stupid either, so you knew he secretly liked it. You were having a competition, and you couldn't wait to finally beat your insufferably headstrong boyfriend at a game of wills. All you had to do to win was hold out until you were finished eating, and this time around you had some tricks up your sleeve.

Frank groaned defeatedly. No matter how much he wanted you, his chivalrous upbringing prevented him from denying his lady what she wanted. So, he gave in and trudged around the counter to sit on the barstool across from the sink. You could feel his eyes following you as you went about making your dinner. His gaze was burning holes all over your body, heating up your core and exhilarating your mind. Every movement you made was intentional, perfectly executed in a way that kept Frank on edge and his jeans too tight.

When you needed something from the lower cabinets, you would bend over to show off your panties, and the fabric would stretch tighter around the swell of your ass. When you needed something from the top cabinets, you would stand on your tiptoes and stretch to reach it, revealing more of your tummy and causing the underwire to push your chest out a little further. While you were reading from the recipe book, you would "absent-mindedly" twirl your hair around your fingers or lean forward on the counter, subtly arching your back.

Once, when you were finished blending your home-made spaghetti sauce and it was heating up on the stove, you dipped a finger in the pot and delicately licked it clean. You didn't look at Frank while you did it because you're sure you would have laughed at how ridiculous it was, but you knew he saw it (and liked it) from his small frustrated sigh.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" he asked, semi-sarcastically.

"Nope!" you replied happily, dropping your handful of dry spaghetti in the boiling water.

"You sure?"

"Pretty sure, yeah." You smiled at him, walking past the bar to put your leftover garlic in the pantry on the other side.

As you were walking back, you failed to notice Frank had hopped to the barstool closest to you until he had already sprung his attack. Lightning fast, he snatched you up and pulled you towards him, slipping a hand under your robe to grab at your ass and wrapping the other around your waist to hold you still. He buried his face in your neck, and you felt him shudder and tighten his grip as he inhaled deeply. The special occasion perfume you wore never failed to drive him wild.

"It's just that I feel so useless sitting over here, doing nothing," he purred, his lips tracing patterns across your collarbone.

"You're definitely not doing nothing," you mumbled.

"That right? What am I doin' then, hmm?"

When you didn't respond, Frank slid his hand away from your ass and dragged two of his fingers gently over the lace covering your arousal. When he drew his hand back and held it up, you saw his fingers were significantly shinier than they were before. That was the biggest downside to fancy underwear. Sure, they look nice, but they do nothing to absorb moisture.

"Is that what I'm doing?" You nodded. "Yeah? But I've just been sitting here," Frank teased.

'Goddammit,' you thought. 'How did I ever think I could make it past dinner with this asshole?'

"Know what I think? I think you just like attention. You put on a show for whoever's watching and you get soaked right through, is that it?" He moved his hand back down to start rubbing gentle circles on your clit through the fabric.

"No, I don't," you fussed, pushing at Frank's bicep to try and dislodge his hand. He just pressed down harder, making you desperately wish you could squeeze your thighs together and grind on his fingers until you were dripping on the floor.

"No? Then what is it, sweetheart? What's got you so wet, huh?"

"Just you," you mumbled. "Just your attention."

"Yeah? That's sweet, baby. Well if this is all my fault, then I should do somethin' about it, shouldn't I?"

Unable to fight back any longer, you nodded. The ache in your core was running too deep, and the relief Frank promised seemed more satisfying than any victory possibly could. Grinning dangerously, Frank released you and stood up before pulling you back into a feverish kiss. You got so lost in the contact that you didn't realize Frank was pushing you until your back hit the counter.

Suddenly, Frank's hands traveled down to settle on your upper thighs. This was a signal you were all too familiar with. Barely a second after you felt it, you jumped, wrapping your legs around him as he set you down on the counter.

As soon as he had you where he wanted you, Frank latched onto your neck, kissing and biting wherever he could reach, leaving faint red marks in all your most sensitive places. You squeezed your eyes shut tight and bit your lip hard as voltaic sensations zipped up and down your spine. Frank slipped your robe gently off your shoulders, leaving light kisses along the newly exposed skin.

Frank left a darker bruise on the base of your neck before tenderly grabbing your jaw to trace his tongue along your bottom lip. With one hand (and a little cooperation on your part), he pulled your robe the rest of the way off and tossed it to the side. Then, he began moving slowly down your torso, stopping to nip lightly at your rigid buds through the flowers hiding them and lick a few gentle stripes up your stomach. When he got too far down to bend over comfortably, he pulled his barstool up behind him and tugged you to the edge of the counter before sitting back down.

At first you didn't know what he was planning, but you figured it out pretty quick when he grabbed your legs and tossed them over his shoulders. Your tailbone was aching and the faucet was digging into your back, but you couldn't bring yourself to care when Frank began leaving hot kisses up your thigh. His stubble was rough against your skin and you were secretly hoping you would still be feeling it in the morning.

You felt Franks nose bump against your clit as he swiped his tongue over your obvious wet spot. The sudden feeling surprised you, and you didn't have time to prevent a small whine from slipping out. Smirking, Frank drew his tongue tortuously slowly from the very back of your cunt to your sensitive nub. When he reached it, he sucked gently at it, feeling your thighs tremble around his head.

"Frank, please," you gasped, throwing your head back when he sucked harder.

Frank finally started slipping his fingers in your waistband, and tapped your hip to get you to lift up. He tugged your panties down to your knees and-

*hisssssssssss*

"Oh, shit!" you cried, pushing Frank away from you. Your spaghetti was bubbling over! You hopped off the counter and pulled your underwear back up, running to stir the pasta with your wooden spoon. As soon as you got the water to settle, your timer went off, signaling that it was done.

You grabbed Frank's strainer (which was actually one of yours that you brought over to encourage Frank to eat better) and drained your spaghetti over the sink. While you were shaking out all the water droplets, you looked up to find Frank moping with his head resting in his hand.

"Oh, come on," you said, noticing his pouty face. "What did you want me to do, let your kitchen burn down?"

"You can't start a fire with spaghetti."

"You'd be surprised."

"I just needed five more minutes, baby. That's it," Frank complained.

"Five more minutes and we'd be eating spaghetti-flavored mush," you retorted. "Besides, dinner's just about ready now. You've only gotta wait another half hour, and then you can have whatever you want."

Frank brightened slightly at the prospect, though he tried to hide it. Turns out, after four years of dating, you learn to spot the little emotions flickering behind your partner's eyes.

"Why are you doing this to me, sweetheart?" he asked.

"Don't pretend like you're not enjoying it."

"I just wanna touch you. Why won't you let me touch you, hmm? I know you want me to," Frank grumbled.

"I did let you touch me," you argued back lightheartedly.

"Yeah, but that wasn't part of the plan, was it baby? You're still trying to stay away from me."

"Why does it matter what I'm trying to do if you got what you wanted anyway?" you reasoned.

"I didn't get what I wanted."

"Tough luck. You will."

"You would've lost if it weren't for those fuckin' noodles," Frank jeered.

"Why do you think I set so many timers?"

*ding*

You switched off the oven and grabbed some potholders to extract your garlic bread.

"Go sit at the table. I'll bring you a plate," you ordered.

Frank sighed, but he did as he was told. As the two of you ate together, you actually had a very nice conversation, laughing and talking about your days as if nothing had even happened. Frank told you about a guy that was trying to save the ugliest, most broken car that had ever entered the shop. You told Frank about the return of one of your nightmare customers. For the entire time you were seated at the table, there was no torture whatsoever on either part. You were both content to celebrate your anniversary with good food and the best company you could ask for.

When you were finally done eating and talking, it had been well over half an hour, but it didn't feel like it. Your time spent with Frank never dragged on endlessly like it seemed to elsewhere. His presence was like a multipurpose drug to you, and it worked better than any stimulant or depressant you could find in even the sketchiest of back-alleys in Hell's Kitchen. There was no doubt in your mind that you had found the person you would be spending the rest of your life with.

You stood up to begin clearing your dishes, but Frank caught your wrist before you could touch a single utensil.

"Oh, no you don't," Frank said, pushing you back down into your chair. "You did the hard part, let me handle all the easy stuff."

"Yes, sir," you giggled, watching him work. When everything was cleared, you joined Frank in the kitchen, where you found him rinsing the dishes with warm water and loading them into the dishwasher.

Copying what he had done to you earlier, you wrapped your arms around his midsection, hugging him tightly and pressing your face against his back. He patted your arm with his wet hands, and you smiled into his shoulder before wiping it off on his shirt. Closing your eyes, you relaxed into him, enjoying his warmth and his familiar scent.

"You can just leave them in the sink for now," you suggested sleepily.

"Now who's impatient?" Frank teased.

Groaning softly, you gave him one more big squeeze before letting go and walking away down the hall.

"When you're ready, you can come meet me in the bedroom," you called behind you. Frank finished up pretty quickly after that.

He entered the bedroom to find you laying down with your eyes closed. Smiling at how peaceful you looked, he carefully laid down on the bed next to you. Almost immediately, you rolled over on top of him, enjoying the feeling of his warm chest against your face. He was like your own personal space heater, which made him very useful to have around in the colder months.

You shivered at the feeling of his hand running through your hair. 'How did I ever relax before I met him?' you wondered. You felt dangerously close to falling asleep, and as good as that sounded, there was something you had been looking forward to for a while that sounded significantly better.

Forcing yourself to sit up, you sat straddling Frank's stomach, staring into his eyes and waiting for him to make the first move. You had been having fun all evening; the night belonged to him now.

"I know what you were after earlier, sweetheart. You look a little tired now, is that still what you want?" he asked. He was always so gentle with you. Even when he really wasn't.

"Yeah," you confirmed, "But I want you to do whatever you want."

"Whatever I want, huh? That's a dangerous thing to say, baby."

"I trust you," you whispered. "And I already know I'm gonna like it, whatever you decide."

Frank hummed, running his hands up and down your thighs as he thought about what to do first. You knew he had reached a decision when he grabbed you and tossed you onto the bed beside him. You yelped at the sudden motion, looking over at him to see exactly what it was he was trying to do.

Frank was taking his belt off. He slid over to sit in front of you, belt in hand, and pulled you back onto his lap.

"You know I can't let you get away with all that bullshit you pulled back there, right?" he asked patronizingly.

"I mean. . . you could," you responded.

Frank scoffed. "You should shut your mouth before you make this worse for yourself. You wanna get to the fun part, don't you?"

"This is the fun part," you confessed.

Frank grabbed your jaw roughly with one hand, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him.

"You're gonna take that back in a minute, baby," Frank growled. He released your jaw to catch both your wrists in his hands, pinning them behind your back.

"All I wanted when I got home was to make my pretty girl feel good, but you decided to be a fuckin' brat." There was a darkness in his eyes that you knew was just for show, but it thrilled you all the same. "I'm gonna show you exactly what that feels like."

Holding both your wrists in one hand, he took his belt and wrapped it tightly around them, latching the buckle and securing them together. When he was sure it would hold and wasn't too uncomfortable, he pushed you off his lap so you were laying on your back on the bed.

"Now," he said, "I'm gonna finish what we started."

He immediately sprung into action, forcibly spreading your legs and slipping your panties all the way down. He tossed them aside and fit himself between your legs, leaning in to kiss you. At first you weren't sure how this was supposed to be a punishment, but you figured it out pretty quickly.

Frank kissed you so deeply, tugging at your hair and tracing your curves with his fingertips. He gripped your waist and your thighs, his dull fingernails leaving behind little indents when he'd get carried away. He could put his hands all over you, wherever and whenever he wanted, but you couldn't do the same. You wanted to pull him closer and squish his biceps teasingly to make him laugh. You wanted to feel his stubble in your hands and rub his shoulders as he bit your neck. You never realized how important your hands were when kissing someone until they were taken from you.

As Frank took to reinforcing the fading red marks he left earlier, he slipped a hand between your thighs to cup your dripping pussy in his palm. You gasped as he used the heel of his hand to rub it a few times, the pressure creating an addictive friction that had you grinding down against him.

Without warning, he slid two fingers inside you, finding your g-spot with practiced ease and stroking it gently. You cried out softly at the sudden stretch. Frank's fingers filled you up so much better than yours ever could. Sometimes you swore he knew more about what made you feel good than you knew about yourself.

Your thighs shook as he began pumping his fingers slowly in and out, stopping every so often to grind his palm against your clit. Your arms were falling asleep underneath you, but that didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was the feeling of Frank's hair tickling your stomach as he moved down to replace his fingers with his tongue.

You whined at the loss when he pulled his hand away, but your disappointment didn't last long as he truly began to finish what he'd started. Your thighs clamped down around his head when you felt the first swipe of his tongue, but he forced them back open, his wet fingers marking your thigh with your slick.

You moaned as he gave your cunt several long licks, cleaning up the moisture that had pooled between your folds. The need to reach out and push his head down or grab onto his hair was overwhelming, but you couldn't move. All you could do was take what he gave you. When he decided you'd had enough teasing, he dove in fully, eating you out like it was his favorite thing in the world. He tongued at your clit, sucking it at random intervals to see what noises he could coax out of you. Sometimes, he would lap gently at your entrance, just barely dipping inside so you could feel how empty you really were. He gave you one more rough lick before plunging his fingers back inside you and sucking hard at your clit. You almost sobbed as you came over his hand, trembling through your release. Frank groaned softly against you, enjoying the feeling of your walls fluttering and pulsing around any part of him.

He patted your thighs lovingly, coming up from between your legs to kiss you. You were still slightly out of it and breathing heavily, but tasting yourself on Frank's tongue brought you back to the present.

"See what you did to me now?" he asked when he pulled away.

"Yeah," you breathed.

"Think we're even, then?"

"Uh-huh," you answered, struggling to sit up with your hands tied.

"I don't."

"What?"

"I didn't let you touch me, but I still made you feel good, didn't I? All you ever did was tease me. Do you still think we're even, baby?" Frank questioned, stroking your lip with his thumb.

"No," you mumbled.

"So what are you gonna do about it?"

Instead of responding verbally, you parted your lips and sucked his thumb gently into your mouth. After a few seconds, Frank pulled it out and replaced it with the two fingers that had previously been inside you, encouraging you to clean them off.

"That's a good start." Frank pulled his fingers back, satisfied with your work. "But you're gonna need to do more than that, sweetheart."

You hesitated, trying to figure out how you were supposed to lean forward without falling flat on your face.

"You know what I want, baby," he encouraged. "What are you waiting for?" Frank knew very well what you were waiting for, but his sadistic side wanted to watch you figure it out.

Rising up onto your knees, you spread your thighs apart for better balance, and slowly began to lower your head towards Frank's zipper. You made it all the way down without crashing, but you refused to make a fool out of yourself by trying to unbutton his pants with your teeth. Instead, you gazed up at him desperately, pleading for assistance with just your eyes.

Unfortunately, Frank wasn't budging. He raised his eyebrows at you expectantly, letting you know you were gonna have to work for it. Huffing, you lowered your gaze back to the zipper, bracing yourself for your impending embarrassment. You were just about to attack his button with your tongue when you were struck by an idea. There was more than one way you could work for it.

Leaning in closer, you started mouthing at his bulge, kissing it wetly through the fabric. You could tell it was affecting him by the way he twitched under your tongue when you licked lovingly at (what you hoped was) the tip. Using your nose, you nudged at the hem of Frank's t-shirt, and he pulled it up for you so you could leave little red marks and sweet kisses across his abs. Frank grunted quietly when you sucked at a sensitive spot, petting your head softly so you'd do it again. He was really enjoying the sight of you bent over, begging for his cock with your mouth. So much so, that he almost didn't want to give it to you.

He held out for a while, only giving in when the warmth of your mouth soaked fully through his jeans, wetting his dick and making him want more.

"Shit, alright," he groaned, reaching down to unzip his jeans. He tugged them down just enough to get to his boxers, reaching inside to pull out his hard, leaking cock.

"There," he murmured, tapping it sweetly against your cheek. "Have at it, pretty girl."

You were concerned about catching it in your mouth without your hands, but Frank generously decided you didn't have to everything on your own. When you turned your head towards it, he held it still and fed it to you slowly, stroking your hair as you went at your own pace.

You paused for a little while in the beginning to pay attention to his dripping head, laving at the sensitive bottom and sucking softly at the tip. You left a dainty lick on his slit before you took more of him in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around his length. You stared up at him as you dragged your tongue teasingly along the underside, tracing a prominent vein that you were very familiar with.

Frank's breathing was getting heavier, letting you know you were doing a good job. Feeling emboldened, you carefully took him all the way to the base, choking softly as he hit the back of your throat.

"Attagirl, fuck," Frank breathed, pushing your head down farther. He held you there for a moment, subtly grinding his cock against the roof of your mouth. Jolting at the feeling, he pushed a little too hard by accident, triggering your gag reflex. You pulled back to catch your breath before continuing to bob your head up and down along his length, taking him as deep as you could without coughing. Before long, your jaw was aching and tears were streaming down your cheeks from choking a few too many times.

Finally, after nearly fifteen minutes of working Frank over with nothing but your mouth, he groaned deeply, signaling his impending release.

"Fuck, baby, I'm gonna-" he warned, sighing as he came in hot ribbons down your throat. You closed your eyes and relaxed into the feeling of his cock pulsing on your tongue, waiting for it to soften slightly before letting it fall from your mouth.

You sat back up and watched Frank pull his pants the rest of the way off before tucking himself back into his underwear.

"Are we even now?" you asked.

"Yeah, I'd say so," Frank smiled. "Come here, I'll get you untied real quick."

You turned away from him so he could take the belt off you, wiggling your fingers and rolling your wrists to regain the feeling you had lost in your hands. Twisting back around, you pounced, knocking him flat on his back and pushing his shirt up as far as it would go. Making up for lost time, you began rubbing at his chest and his shoulders, and tracing his abs with your fingertips. He chuckled at your neediness, pulling his shirt off to give you better access, which you happily took advantage of. Cradling his face in your hands, you left dozens of little kisses all over his mouth and his neck. It felt so good to be able to touch him again, you didn't think you would ever let go.

Still holding you close to him, Frank turned so his back was against the headboard and he could cuddle you in a more comfortable position. For a while, you laid in silence, syncing your breathing with his and seeing if you could find a way to match your heartbeats. So far, not much luck, but you were sure you'd figure it out someday.

Checking the clock on the nightstand, you saw that you'd been laying there for about ten minutes. "That should be enough time," you thought. You looked up to find Frank's eyes closed, but you knew he was awake.

"Frankie?" you called, almost inaudibly.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think it's time for the 'fun part' now?"

Frank smiled. "Do you want it to be?"

He opened his eyes, watching you closely as you unfastened your bra in the back, and slipped it off slowly. You dropped it on the bed beside you, leaving you completely exposed for Frank to admire you.

"Yeah, I do," you whispered.

Frank surged up to kiss you again, this time much gentler than before. He ran his hands up your sides to tenderly massage your bare chest. You whimpered into the kiss as he rubbed at your nipples, the little buds sensitive from being previously neglected.

Feeling impatient, you tugged his boxers down and quickly began stroking his growing length. Frank hissed at the shock, but he was thrusting up into your hand before too long. As soon as he was half hard, you lifted up and positioned his cock at your entrance before sinking down all the way. You cried out at the intrusion, feeling him curve perfectly inside you to brush your sweet spot on every thrust.

You sat there for a minute, just barely circling your hips as you focused on the feeling of him hardening fully inside you. When he was finished growing, you began to ride him, slowly pushing your body up and down on his cock as he raised his hips to meet you half-way.

Frank punched little noises out of your chest with every bounce, leaning in to hide his face in your neck. He breathed in the wonderful scent of sweat, sex, and expensive perfume, groaning desperately into your skin.

After a while of thrusting and grinding and bouncing, your thighs began to ache, and you weren't able to maintain the same speed anymore. Picking up on your sudden change, Frank took charge almost on autopilot, and flipped you over so you were underneath him.

You moaned at the relief and the change in tempo as he fucked into you faster and harder and deeper, but still with so much love and care behind every movement. When you caught his eyes, it felt like you were staring into your future, and you saw nothing but inevitable happiness.

Your gasps and whines got louder and louder as you chased your release. Your soaked cunt was pulling Frank back in harder, squeezing tight around him to try and keep him from pulling out. Every sensation you were feeling kept building and building until finally, the tension snapped. You almost screamed as your climax washed over you like a rising tide, whiting out your vision and sending waves of pleasure washing over you.

Frank was right behind you, as the feeling of your walls constricting and fluttering around him pushed him over the edge. He came deep inside you, filling you up perfectly before pulling out carefully and collapsing beside you.

The two of you laid next to each other, holding each other tightly and soaking up the afterglow permeating the air all around you. You couldn't have asked for a better anniversary, or a better special someone to share it with. In that moment, as you got ready to drift off to sleep, everything was perfect.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

#frank castle #frank castle smut #frank castle x reader #jon bernthal #jon bernthal smut #jon bernthal x reader #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x you #the punisher

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 1 month

Text

After Hours (Boss!Geto x Assistant!Self-Insert!Reader 18+ One Shot) [COMMISSION FILL]

Pairing: Geto Suguru x Self-Insert!Reader

Synopsis: In which Geto Suguru, your boss, and owner of his own public relations firm, celebrates a job well done on a five-month-long project with you, his trusty secretary, but what was once a friendly, professional relationship between you turns into something else when the staff goes home for the night and champagne gets involved.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Reader is Black, Fem & Plus-Sized!; Crush Confession; Boss/Secretary; Some Power Play; Sexual Tension; Coworkers to Lovers; Office Sex; Mild BDSM; MDom/fsub; Geto Pours Champagne on the Titties & Kitty; Temperature/Sensory Play; Ice Play; Cunnilingus; Sex Against the Window; Geto Got a Big Ol' Dick; Unprotected PIV; Mutual O; Cum on Ass; Aftercare; Surprise Ending

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Once again, a big thank you to @curiouscutie143 for allowing me to bring her fantasies to life. I had so much fun writing boss!Geto & now I wanna lowkey write a longer fic about an office romance with him. Enjoy! -Jazz

*********

“Cheers,” your boss says with a smile. “To the successful end of this stupid fucking waste of time.”

You laugh, lightly clinking your champagne flute with the extremely handsome, wealthy, intoxicating man sitting next to you on his office couch…who also, again, happens to be your boss. “It wasn’t a waste,” you giggle. “But I will say it was very time-consuming. At least we got it done in time.”

Geto Suguru hums in agreement as he takes a sip of the champagne in unison with you, making even that look hot.

He is truly a man to behold with his long, black hair he kept tied into a respectable ponytail, a lean build under his button-down and slacks, gage earrings that he purposely kept in for tonight’s festivities, brown eyes you could swim in forever, and tattoos that he usually keeps hidden beneath his blazers and designer suit jackets, but tonight are exposed under his rolled-up sleeves.

He puts all models and men to shame with his beauty. And wealth! He is his own boss and CEO of his own PR firm which he has owned for over six years now. It skyrocketed in popularity in only a year, earning the title of the 6th most popular business in Japan which has jumped to 2nd place on that list. You joined his team two years later as his personal secretary after working as an assistant for his HR team.

Geto, who interviewed and hired you, was so impressed with your work and presentation that he offered you the job. “I need a personal secretary,” he explained to you, “and I think you’d be the perfect fit.” Two years later, you’re still here and you don’t see yourself going anywhere else. Geto is a wonderful boss who offers great pay, supreme benefits, and understands the importance of mental health days.

Though he doesn’t allow anyone to play with him or his money. If he suspects that an employee is not giving him the most on the clock or is taking advantage of his kindness, he will either straighten them out himself with a private meeting or send them on their way. However, he is a kind, respectable, understanding man that you are honored to have worked for for four years.

And a man that you have embarrassingly been crushing on for four years. “All thanks to you,” he praises. “I can’t tell you enough how grateful I am to you, V. Seriously; I so appreciate all of those times you’ve stayed late with me and the team and set up all of those lunch meetings and conference calls.”

Those eyes, so generous and kind, smile at you in his spacious, luxurious office. Seriously; Geto’s office is like a damn penthouse stretching over 900 square feet with polished marbled floors and open-brick walls. A kitchenette, coffee section, wine mini bar, and bathroom sit on the left side of the office while his mahogany desk and bookcase sit on the right.

His lounging section, or “decompression area” as he calls it, sits smack dab in the middle, included with two chairs and a couch you both currently occupy with a glass coffee table sitting in the middle.

Though the office is wide enough for space, you feel as if the walls are closing in on you the more you sit and stare at Geto. “Well, that’s my job anyway,” you joke, clearing your throat. “It was no trouble, Mr. Geto, really! I’m honored you chose me to work with you on this.”

Geto scoffs, raising an eyebrow at you as he begins to loosen his tie with one hand. “You thought I wouldn’t?” he chuckles. “You’re my trusted assistant and a great employee. Plus, dealing with people is your specialty, unlike me. If anyone was needed on this project, it was you.”

You feel like you flush as red as the cocktail dress you are wearing despite the fact you’re as Black as your mama.

Tonight was the celebration of your five-month project ending. Geto has been interested in partnerships and merging his firm with other companies, especially tech companies. When a popular tech firm in Germany reached out, it took about five months to get everything finalized and a lot of reaching out to multiple people.

You sweated over this project, doing work at home, setting up meetings, and sometimes staying late with Geto and his business team where he ordered Chinese and pizza for the crew around dinnertime.

There were also days and nights when everyone wasn’t here then you’d be with Geto in his office, typing up memos and emails he would think of at the top of his head. But you didn’t mind. Not only did your boss pay you overtime for all the hours you spent working on this, but it also meant you could spend more time with him.

Finally, just a week ago, the project was completed and Geto’s partnership was greenlit. All staff was invited to the party, including those who didn’t even work on it, to celebrate such a milestone for Geto’s firm. Food, alcohol, and music were all included, lasting from 5 PM to 9 at night.

You danced and sang karaoke with your coworkers and friends, trying to get Geto to join in though it was like trying to pull teeth out of his mouth. He looks more relaxed now as he loosens his tie and pops a collar to his shirt, revealing the column of his throat and toned chest. You look away, feeling warm.

“Now I can finally rest without hurrying here at 6 AM to prepare for meetings or deal with that stupid fucking Excel chart,” he huffs, revealed. “And we’re blessed with a new partnership. Praise God or whoever.” He points his glass to the ceiling before taking a sip of the Brüte champagne. You giggle, feeling his relief.

Suddenly, the door to his office opens and you startle as if you were just caught in a very compromising position with your boss. Gojo Satoru, your supervisor, Geto’s right hand, and the heart throb of the office (understandably since the man is just as fine as Geto), pokes his snow-white head into the room.

“You two still in here?” he scoffs, glaring at you beneath his glasses. “Oooh, are those more of those cupcake cheesecakes?” He strides into the room and bends down to pluck one of the tiny cakes off of Geto’s desk, but Geto chucks a pillow at him. “Uh-uh, greedy,” he criticizes. “You barely left any of the food at the party earlier. Besides, aren’t you goin’ for dinner now?”

Gojo catches the pillow with one hand, grinning. “Dinner and drinks,” he cackles. “Shoko, Yuki, and I were wonderin’ if you two wanted to come along and not be boring for once.” He slips his glasses down his nose and winks at you, indicating that he’s joking.

Knowing his game and having this relationship with Gojo, you play along. “I am not boring,” you scoff, putting a hand to your chest. “My cat thinks I’m a lot of fun at 3 AM, thank you very much. I put on all kinds of concerts for her!”

Geto gives a big laugh that lights your insides up while Gojo physically cringes. “Fun to us isn’t just downing shots and passin’ out on our couch, Satoru,” your boss scoffs. His friend takes a moment to think about it, sitting down on the edge of Geto’s desk. “Okay, point taken, but the offer is still open. C’mon, we need to celebrate and it’s a Friday night!”

Even with his friend’s whining, Geto shakes his head, looking apologetic. “Thanks, but not tonight,” he sighs. “I wanted to clean up my office a bit before I head home and get some much-needed sleep.”

Gojo takes his glasses off and rolls his ocean-blue eyes. “Such an old man,” he huffs. “What about you, Ms. V? You up for some fun with me?” The gorgeous, Colgate smile he gives you is full of temptation, but you’ve already had enough drinking and dancing for tonight.

“Thank you, Satoru,” you sweetly say, “but I have to get ready for a family event tomorrow. My mom is forcing me to help cook.” You get up from the couch and saunter over to him, barely seeing his eyes glazing over your hips. “Buuut if y’all ever decide to have another night out, let me know and I’ll put it on my calendar.”

You take the pillow from him and offer him a sweet smile which he returns. It damn near makes him prettier. “Will do,” he replies. His phone suddenly dings and he sighs. “That’s Shoko chewin’ me out,” he announces, slipping off the desk and heading to the door on his long legs. “I’ll see you two kids later. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do…or do. I don’t give a fuck.”

He gives you another wink and a smile before slipping out of the office and shutting the door behind him. “Have fun!” you call after him. Once he leaves, you realize how quiet the building seems. “Any of the janitors still here?” you curiously ask Geto.

He is still sitting on the couch, one arm draped over the back of the couch and still sipping his champagne. “Nah, I sent everybody home after the party ended.” He gives you a curious look, almost looking like a puppy...or maybe that’s just the champagne getting to you. You only had a half of glass at the party and now you find your current glass empty.

“How come you didn’t want to go with Satoru, if you don’t mind me asking?” he suddenly asks, his head cocked to the side. You don’t mind since Geto and you have a very “close” relationship.

It’s one of the closest you have at work, ironically enough. You know what his condo looks like having visited there before to deliver papers and packages that accidentally came to the office.

You know his birthday and he knows yours, even sending you flowers to your apartment every year, each one bigger and more beautiful than the last.

You talk about anything that annoys or bothers you when you find yourselves together, even sometimes having lunch together (for work purposes).

You would say that he is almost like your work husband, but that would be pushing it. You find yourself needing to remind yourself that he’s your boss! No matter how good he looks in his suits or the way you feel when he praises your work, you must remember that. This is your job. Your responsibility.

“Eh,” you sigh with a shrug. “Sometimes, I just like being home to unwind and relax. Nothing beats a glass of wine, a hot bath, and a movie.” Geto nods, understanding.

“What about you?” you curiously ask as you sit back down beside him. “Why didn’t you go with Gojo? He’s your best friend, right?”

Geto drains the rest of his glass before pouring another. “Unfortunately,” he jokes, making you laugh. He seems to enjoy that. “Nah, but I’m the same: sometimes, I like to unwind with some drinks and social outings, and other times, I just chill at home in my very spacious, very lonely condo with my dog. When you’re the owner of a PR firm, it’s usually the second one.”

You can’t help but feel sad about that. “So was that story about your mom a lie?” he asks with a smirk. Sheepishly, you nod. “So I’m guessin’ that show for your cat is the move for tonight?”

You would say yes, but something pulls you back. You don’t know if it’s the champagne or the way Geto’s cologne smells, but something is keeping you glued to the couch with him. “W-Well, I was gonna say I can help you clean up your office if you want…a-and drink the rest of this champagne!” You pick up the bottle and pour yourself another glass, raising it to him.

Geto looks taken aback as he clinks his glass with yours. “I mean…if you want,” he hesitantly says. “You absolutely don’t have to stay for my sake, V. You’re not on the clock.”

You flush, not wanting him to think you’re weird for staying here or that you have ulterior motives (which you do). “It’s okay!” you laugh, waving your manicured hand. “Really! Call me weird, but I kind of like organizing.”

Geto laughs at this, getting up from the couch. “Well, now I know why your office is so pristine,” he chuckles. “Lemme turn on some music then.”

You watch him as he walks over this his desk, shamelessly ogling his firm, toned, juicy ass in his slacks. You would give so much to feel it in your hands, your nails digging into the flesh while his hips grind against yours, his cock buried deep inside your–

The sound of a piano mixed with horns and a smooth bass makes you jump, deep in your naughty thoughts. Geto sighs and his shoulders loosen as he presses the volume up on his Bluetooth, happy and relaxed.

“Jazz music?” you snort. He gives you a sheepish smirk. “I know, I know: I’m an old man.” To make him feel better, you begin to snap your fingers, albeit offbeat, and that makes him laugh even harder.

For the next hour, you sit with your boss and help him organize his office while downing champagne. While he rearranges items on his desk, you lounge on his couch with your heels off and organize documents, either throwing some away or keeping some to file. You talk every so often about everything––new movies, restaurants, plans for the summer, etc. But the silence that follows these conversations isn’t awkward, but peaceful and comfortable. You feel relaxed with Geto.

“So what’s the plan for this weekend?” he suddenly asks as he organizes his bookcase. “Maybe a date or something?” You pause, not sure why this question is making you feel so frazzled. “If that’s too personal, I understand,” he quickly adds, noticing your reluctance to answer.

You push your glass away, having already finished your second glass. You feel bubbly and loose, the alcohol sinking its claws into you. “No,” you reply, sheepishly so. “No dating for me right now with work and everything. Maybe one day if I find the right person.”

Geto hums and goes back to organizing his books. You continue to work, mostly to give your hands something to do. “What about you?” you ask. “With your kinda money, you could take a weekend trip to Mexico for the hell of it, if you wanted!”

Your boss suddenly turns, his expression stoic and a brow raised. “Exactly how much money do you think I have, Ms. L/N?” he asks in a deep voice that makes your pussy jump.

At first, you think you went too far but then you see the corner of his mouth flick upwards. “Like you don’t have a condo,” you scoff. “Which I know because I’ve sent you packages from work and secret admirers before.”

Geto’s brows wrinkle cutely. “Secret admirers?” he parrots. You nod, already giggling at one particular memory. “You remember the flowers sent here when you were sick with COVID that time?”

He blinks, clueless, and then his eyes widen. “Ohhh, yeah!” he laughs, tossing his head back. “God, Gojo wouldn’t leave me alone about that for weeks. She was an old partner of mine who heard through the grapevine that I was sick.” He turns and leans against his bookcase, his, big, tatted arms crossed over his chest.

“Oh!” you exclaim, still shuffling papers. You want to give yourself something to do as the next question gnaws at you. “A…business partner?” you carefully ask. You never knew who this woman was that sent Geto the flowers; only that you didn’t know her but she knew your boss.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies, giving you a smile that looks almost saddened. “I haven’t dated anyone long-term in over two years. Like you said, maybe one day if I find the right person, but that hasn’t happened yet.” He chuckles to himself. “You’d think it’d be easy with my status, right?”

You don’t say anything for a while and the silence becomes thick even with the music playing. When he turns around to finish his work, you finally get up the nerve to speak to his backside.

When you start, you can’t stop yourself, the champagne overflowing out of your mouth. “You know, if it’s any consolation to you, I-I think you’d deserve to meet someone nice,” you stutteringly say. “You’re a very good man, Mr. Geto.”

And then he turns slowly to you and the way the city lights from the window reflect on his shocked face and in his eyes makes you realize what you just said. “V,” he says, his voice breathless and soft. You cover your mouth but it’s too late. You can’t take them back. “Shit, I shouldn’t have said that,” you quietly gasp.

Immediately, you get up, but the papers you were organizing fall from your lap onto the floor.

“I’m so, so sorry!” you squeak. “I-I should leave!” You’re near tears, a hot rush of humiliation falling on you. You fall onto your knees and begin picking up the papers, swearing as you do.

“No, no, V,” Geto says, walking toward you. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry.”

“No, I do!” you protest. “That was totally inappropriate! I don’t know why I–” You pause when your finger catches against the edge of a sheet of paper too quickly and it slices into your skin.

“Ow!” you hiss, immediately snatching your hand away and dropping the paper.

Quickly, Geto stops the music and rushes over to you. He kneels down in front of you, crushing the papers under his knees as if they mean nothing. “What happened?” he demands.

You silently show him your bleeding finger, whimpering at the sting. “Lemme see,” he says, already taking your hand. He examines the cut and frowns at it. “Oh, honey, it cut you deep,” he coos, the pet name making your stomach flip. He’s never called you that before. “Here, don’t move,” he orders and quickly hurries to his bathroom.

He returns with a first aid kit and coaxes you to sit up on the couch. He takes your wounded finger in one hand, holding an alcohol swab in the other. “It may sting a bit,” he warns. “Just squeeze my leg if it’s too much.” And it does sting. You hiss and grip his thigh as he cleans the cut, watching your expression. “That’s it,” he softly coos. “Good girl.”

Your stomach flutters and your body grows hot at the very inappropriate pet name, but what is more inappropriate are the past thoughts you’ve had about him calling you a good girl. His good girl. He smiles at you when he finishes cleaning the cut. “Hard part’s over,” he chuckles. “Now I’ll just add some antibacterial cream and a band-aid to make it all better.”

You stay quiet as he applies the cream to your cut, his touch soft and gentle. “I’m sorry, Mr. Geto,” you whisper. He narrows his eyes at you. “What are you talkin’ about?” he scoffs. “V, you didn’t do anything wrong. It was just an accident. You could never do anything to upset me…except think that you don’t deserve to date right now.”

The silence around you swells the instant he says it. “W-What?” you whisper, gaping at him. He continues his work, now wrapping the band-aid around your finger. “Y’know, if it’s any consolation to you, you deserve to meet the right man too. You’re so sweet and smart and beautiful…who wouldn’t want you?”

Finally, he finishes and just looks at you. You look at him too, both of you just staring at each other in the dimly lit office. Geto finally breaks and pinches the bridge of the nose. “God, I really shouldn’t have said that,” he groans. “We shouldn’t be doing any of this.”

Seeing his internal battle and realizing that he feels the same way you do, you keep your hand on his thigh and squeeze. “Suguru,” you softly say. “It’s okay.”

He looks at you in shock. This is the first time you’ve ever used his first name, especially when talking to him. He moves closer to you, making the room feel like it’s shrinking. The city lights reflect in his eyes through the window, twinkling at you. “Say my name again,” he demands but it’s more like a plea. “Tell me what you want me to do, V. You can tell me to stop and I will.”

You know this is very bad. You know this is wrong. You know that if you do this, you can never go back to the way things were. But you can’t turn back at this point. “Suguru,” you say again, “please. I want this.” You trail your hand up to his chest, feeling his heart pound against your fingertips. “I’ve wanted you for 5 years,” you confess.

The restraint in Geto’s eyes finally dissipates and he places his hand on top of yours. “Fuck,” he growls. “I’ve wanted this too, V. You have no fuckin’ idea.” He takes both of your hands in his, gently stroking your knuckles with his thumb. “Can I kiss you?” he asks. You damn near choke, feeling like you’re about to faint.

He scoots closer, close enough to do so himself…but he doesn’t. “I need your words, mama,” he murmurs.

Finally, you find the will to speak: “Yes,” you whimper and it’s enough to make Geto melt. “Kiss me, Suguru.” Immediately, he swoops in and takes you into his arms, holding you against him as he places the hottest, most passionate kiss you’ve ever had on your lips.

His lips are soft and wet against yours, pulling you in farther and farther. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him flush against you. If this were a romantic comedy, there would be fireworks popping off outside the same way they are in your head. Geto pulls away, softly panting. “Keep talkin’ to me,” he whispers. “Tell me what you want from me.”

He swoops in to kiss you again, drowning out your soft moans. “Touch me,” you plea into his mouth. “Put your hands on me, Suguru.”

He does just that, his big hands moving down your hips to pull you into his lap. You wrap your arms tight around his neck like a koala bear, latching onto his body. Geto wouldn’t have it any other way. He loves how your soft, pudgy body feels against him and sitting on top of him, your heat radiating from between your thighs against his crotch. Your kisses grow deeper and wetter, your tongues swirling against each other, arousing the both of you.

“You’re wearing too much,” you whisper, tugging at his collar. He sniggers against your lips, his hands gripping your ass. “So are you,” he chuckles. “But we can help each other with that, can’t we?” Even without the seduction in his gaze, you wouldn’t resist.

You begin to pop his buttons, yank off his tie, and peel his shirt off while he unzips your dress. You beat him, successfully getting him semi-naked. At the feeling and sight of his toned abs, pecs, and tatted, tanned skin, you damn near get a nosebleed. “Like whatcha see, babydoll?” he purrs. “Because I’m lovin’ what I’m seein’ right now.”

He coaxes you to stand up in front of him and finally peels off your dress, exposing your lace bra and panties to him. At the sight of you standing between his thighs in only your underwear, stockings, and heels, Geto almost busts a nut. You’re so fucking beautiful, babydoll, shit,” he hisses.

His hands glide down your sides before pulling you closer. You allow him to do what he wants, loving whatever he does, especially when he latches his lips onto your brown nipples. While he sucks and laps at your nipples, alternating between each, his big hands mold and fondle each juicy breast that his mouth can’t occupy.

Your sultry, slutty moans are like music to him, way better than the jazz. “Fuck!” you moan. “Suguru…that feels so good!” Your head falls back and your eyes close, the pleasure immense. He’s so, so good with his mouth! You wonder just how good he is eating pussy.

Geto suddenly looks up at you, his mouth still latched onto your hardened, brown nipple.

“Lay back on the couch and put your arms over your head,” he orders you. You do so, shivering in delight at him telling you what to do. He then takes his empty champagne glass off of the table and pours himself a glass.

“Lemme try something,” he pants before slowly pouring some of the champagne over your breasts. You gasp as each cold, little droplet hits your skin, making your nipples even harder. He then swoops down and begins to lap at the champagne, drinking it from between your cleavage and lapping it off your nipples.

“Mmm,” you softly moan, melting into the couch cushion. You’re so relaxed that you barely notice the ice cube in Geto’s mouth until he’s dragging it over your neck and tits. You gasp, your back arching into his cold lips.

He smiles, leaning back up with the ice cube in his mouth and giving you an open-mouth kiss. The ice cube falls into your mouth, immediately melting. “That feel good, babydoll?” he chuckles, loving the way your skin jumped at the cold ice cube.

He continues to suck on your nipples while you grind your hips against his thigh wedged between your thighs. “My, you’re so vocal,” he hums. “Thank God the staff ain’t here or we’d be in big trouble.” He then sits up, straddling you, and slowly takes down his ponytail. Watching his locks of black hair cascade over his shoulders and back is more than you can handle.

“I need more of you,” he says, sounding hoarse and in need. “Is it okay if I taste you, babydoll? I’ve been dreaming of what you’d feel like against my tongue for so long.” He doesn’t touch you. Not until you say so. Consent being so important to him makes you wetter, your cunt throbbing against his knee. “Yes, sir,” you moan. “Please taste me. I’m yours.”

He yanks you closer by your legs, making you squeal. “Keep saying that,” he demands. He then hunkers down in between your legs, peppering your jiggly, luscious thighs in kisses. “I’m yours,” you say, a laugh slipping out of you.

He takes your panties off of you, leaving your heels on. “I’m yours,” you gasp as his lips make contact with your fatter, softer ones down under. His tongue laps and licks at your folds, caressing your clit. He then begins to gently suck on the tiny bud, making your toes curl. “I’m yours, Suguru, fuck!” you moan, your hands lacing in his hair. “Please do that again!”

Geto smirks against your pussy. “What?” he chuckles. “You mean this?” He does the same move again, this time swirling his tongue around your clit.

The pleasure is overwhelming, making your mind blank and emitting the sluttiest sounds out of you. “Shit, Sugu, yes, fuck!” you pant. “You’re s-so…oooo, fuck, baby, right there!”

Geto continues to feast on your pussy, eating it up like it’s his last meal for a while. “Goddamn, you’re so fuckin’ cute,” he groans against your slit, his tongue sliding down to your asscrack before sliding back up. “I like seein’ you like this. Keep makin’ more of those sounds for me, babydoll. That’s an order.”

You can’t help it, so you do it, making as many moans, whines, and grunts as he wants. With the way he works his mouth against your pussy, it’s impossible to not. But when his hands move up to tweak and pinch your nipples, you almost explode.

“Yes, like that!” you whine. “I love that so much! Keep goin’, sir, please, sh-sh-shit!” You begin to grind your clit against his nose while his tongue explores your insides, his hot, wet mouth and cushiony lips too much to bear. You can’t take much more of this! “Shit, Suguru!” you moan. “Fuck, sir, I’m gonna cum!”

“Mmm-hmm,” Geto hums, slipping his tongue out of you. He begins to suck on your throbbing clit again, making you see heaven. “Say the magic word,” he coos against your clit. Your hands grip his hair as your back arches into his ministrations, needing more. “Please, sir!” you whine. “Please, please let me cum! I need it, please!”

His chocolate eyes peer up at you through the V of your thighs, demanding you to give him what he wants. “Give it to me, babydoll,” he orders. “Cum all over me. Fuckin’ do it.” As his voice drops several octaves, you feel shivers travel up and down your spine. Your core begins to tighten more and more as you grind against his magical mouth over and over again.

When you cum, you cum hard. You’ve never had such an intense orgasm before. It tears through you, making you nearly arch off of the bed as you explode in Geto’s mouth. Moans and cries of pleasure leave your lips, tingles of ecstasy coursing through you. The man between your legs hungrily laps at your pussy, slurping up all of the cream that you give him.

Finally, after several seconds, you come down from your high, aching in the best way possible. Geto pulls away with a sigh, his lips dripping with you. “You’re way better than the champagne,” he chuckles, licking your juices off of his lips. “Now I need more.”

He seems to shift into a whole other person the more you look at him. His eyes darken and his hands massage your thighs a lot more as if he can’t get enough of them. “I’m sorry, babydoll, but you seem to have made me into a fiend,” he growls. “If you don’t want this, tell me now before I bust a hole through these pants.”

He grips his hard-on pushing into his slacks and your eyes have never stretched so wide before.

“B-But what about–”

“You don’t need to take care of me,” he interrupts. “What you can do is lay back and let me fuck you like I need to.” He gazes down at you, molten lust evident in his eyes. “Will you let me, V?” he asks. “Is that okay with you?”

Is that okay with you? Your pussy is dripping at the mention of finally getting what she and you both want. Finally!

Instinctively, you open your legs for him, exposing your soaked pussy to his naked eyes only. “Fuck me, sir,” you purr. “I want you so bad. Please, just fuck me now.”

Geto doesn’t need to be told twice. After planting another rough, wet kiss on your lips, he unzips his pants and shrugs his boxers down to his waist.

Like a Jack-in-the-Box, his cock springs up, fat, long, and throbbing. You practically salivate at the sight of it. Smirkingly, Geto wraps a hand around himself and slowly slides himself home inside the wet, spongy walls of your pretty cunt, emitting a gasp from the both of you.

He looks down at you expectantly, waiting for you to give him the go to move. Once you have adjusted to his size and girth, you put your hands on his shoulders and nod, giving him a reassuring smile.

He settles on top of you, keeping his arms on either side of you to hold himself up, and slowly begins to rock his hips. As soon as he begins to sheathe his cock in and out of you, you feel the pleasure you felt before return but it’s increased by 100. You are overwhelmed with ecstasy every time Geto pumps his cock inside of you and his pelvis rubs against your clit, unable to hold back the slutty sounds dripping from your open mouth.

Geto smiles down at you, loving how adorable you look underneath him as you take his cock. He holds himself up with one hand to hold one of your juicy tits in his hand, loving how it jiggles as he fucks himself down into you. “So needy for me,” he sighs. “So fuckin’ cute.” His hips piston into yours just right, nailing that spot again and again as he fucks you into the couch.

“Fuck, Sugu!” you cry, gripping his broad shoulders. “Please go faster! Fuck me faster, sir!” His handsome face flushed and black strands of hair falling in his face, Geto gives you what he wants. He sits up and grips your fleshy thighs before pumping his cock deeper and faster into you, causing the sounds of your moans to grow louder.

If anyone were to be outside of the office right now, they would immediately know what’s going down in Mr. Geto Suguru’s office. The sound of sex–grunts, moans, whimpers, couch springs bouncing, skin slapping against skin–is way too obvious to pass it off as something else. The idea of that makes you wetter and tighter around Geto’s cock. It makes him damn near insane.

Unable to control himself any longer, his big hands move under your ass to pull you to him.

He then sits up with you and slowly stands, lifting you up with him. You gasp, gripping onto him tight like a cobra, and he chuckles. “I’ve got you, honey. Don’t worry, just hold onto me.” You do so as he walks over to his office window, the glittering lights of the city gleaming back at you. He slowly puts you down and wordlessly stares at you, his gaze dark and oh-so seductive.

You don’t have to ask what he wants. Immediately, you turn around and place your hands on the cold glass of the window, sticking your ass out for him. “Damn, I didn’t even have to tell you to assume the position,” he chuckles. “I guess you’re feenin’ too.” His hand caresses your asscheeks, his thick fingers massaging them.

You look down at the streets below, seeing people walking their dogs and having a night out on the town. You’ve never done anything like this before, but the idea of having sex in front of a window where anyone could look up and see you makes you wetter than you’ve ever been in your life. And nobody would ever know that it’s your boss giving you such good dick.

Your coherent thoughts are pushed to the back when Geto slaps his cock up against your asscheeks and then sinks himself back into your pussy. “Shit, baby!” he hisses, immediately going back to railing you. “You’re tighter than before.”

You whine in response as he grips your hips, pumping himself into you like you’re no more than a toy. A fleshlight. His personal sex object. It’s so dirty. So wrong.

And yet it feels so, so good. You can’t deny how much you enjoy his thick cock stretching you out and sending sparks of pleasure throughout your brain. How much you love the sweet ache in your knees and your body. How much you love the way he makes your tits and ass jiggle as he fucks you.

Speaking of ass, Geto is a fiend for it, staring at the way it shakes and jiggles as he fucks your pussy. “I need to see this ass bounce for me,” he shudderingly groans, giving your ass a harsh smack. You gasp at the sting, the nasty act of it making your pussy throb around him.

“Do that again!” you whine and he does, the pain mixing with the pleasure as he sinks his cock back into you again and again, going deeper and deeper each time. You have to brace yourself against the window the more he pounds into you, going so fast that he could damn well put a pornstar to shame with his stamina. “Fuck, Sugu, yes!” you sob. “Y-Yeah, just like that, fuck me just like that!”

“Fuck me back, babydoll,” he demands. “Work for that cum, c’mon. Be a good secretary for me.” You do so, pressing into your heels and tossing your ass back into him. “God, that’s it!” he moans, giving you another spank as a reward. “I’ve always dreamed of fucking you like this. Always wanted to see you like this.”

You want to tell him the same, but your tongue is tied, the pleasure making you crazy as you begin to frantically rub your clit. You can quickly feel that knot in your stomach about to snap the more he fucks you. You feel him press himself against you, pushing you into the window. You gasp as the cold glass touches your bare, brown tits pushed against the window while Geto’s big, rock-hard body pushes against your back.

“You wanna cum with me, babydoll?” he pants into your ear. “Tell me. Tell me you wanna cum with me.”

You can feel the wetness begin to drip down your thighs and stain his balls, no doubt getting on the floor. “Tell me you want me to give you my cum,” he growls. “Say it. Tell me where the fuck you want it.”

Somehow, you find the words to speak and scream out, “Yes! Yes, sir, I want your cum! Do it on me, please! I don’t care where! Just please, please cum with me!”

That just about makes Geto snap. He turns your face and tongue kisses you, his lips and mouth tasting like a night of champagne. You don’t speak as he continues to rail you, chasing his orgasm at full speed and taking you along for the ride.

When you both finally cum, you do so together. He manages to pull out of you quickly and pumps his cum all over your plump, soft, perfect ass while you do so onto his hand, his fingers replacing yours.

Swears, sobs, and moans leave your lips as you’re finally released like a genie in a bottle, your orgasm hitting you dead on. It drains all of the energy out of you, making your knees buckle and your body feel weak.

“I’ve got you,” Geto softly says, hugging you to him from the back. “Just melt into me, mama. It’s okay.”

Deliriously and happily, you smile, doing as he says. You loop an arm around his head, bringing him closer to you. You don’t ever want to leave his arms. You want to stay like this forever, pressed against him in his office, while the rest of the world turns and moves outside. At some point, you both sink onto the floor and just stay there for a while, silence descending onto you.

Once the pleasurable fog of your orgasm fades, the concrete realization hits you like a truck: you just had sex with your boss. Geto seems to know what you’re thinking though and turns your face towards his. “Tell me how you feel,” he tells you, his eyes firm but soft. “Listen, I don’t want you to regret what we did, Y/N, ‘cause I don’t. This was real for me.”

He bites on his bottom lip, looking flushed and nervous. You’ve never seen him look like that before. “I know this was a lot, but if you want, I’d like to turn this into something more. But it’s all up to you.” You blink at him, wondering if he’s serious. He continues to hold that firm yet nervous look, his eyes hopeful.

After sex like that, you’d be crazy to say no! You place a hand on his cheek and move in to kiss him softly. He accepts the kiss, his lips dancing with yours before you pull away. “I’m ready to try if you are, sir,” you softly answer. “But dinner would be nice.”

Geto begins to laugh and kisses your hand. “Of course,” he chuckles, sounding relieved. “You like Italian? Or maybe ramen? I know this place that just opened that–”

Knock, knock, knock! Quickly, Geto places himself in front of you, blocking you from whoever is at his office door. Fear jumps inside of you, making your stomach churn. “I thought you said nobody was here!” you hiss.

“There isn’t,” he whispers. “Or there wasn’t supposed to be.” He clears his throat, giving a clear, short, “Yes?”

“Brooo, it’s me!” Gojo shouts through the door. “I think I dropped my wallet in here! Can ya let me in?” Geto turns to you, a mischievous glint in his eye. “What do you think, babydoll?” he asks. “Should we let my friend in?”

You don’t know why you say yes or why your pussy throbs despite having just orgasmed twice, but Geto gives Gojo the okay and he comes waltzing into the office. At the sight of his best friend and his personal secretary sitting naked on the floor in their afterglow, Gojo’s blue eyes widen in shock…

And then they grow hooded with lust. “Well, well,” he chuckles. “It’s about fuckin’ time.”

He begins to loosen his tie, giving you a flirty smile. “I hope it ain’t too much to ask if I can join, babe.”

THE END.

Fan Art by @almaadst

#commission fill #black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #black coded reader #my fic shit #black writers #jjk smut #geto smut #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru #suguru aka sugar #suguru geto x plus sized!reader #boss/employee relationship #office romance

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suppose-i-was-worm · 8 months

Text

Itty Bitty Living Space

**same continuity as For Lack of a Burger!**

Danny could curse Clockwork. Really, truly, and horribly.

Well, not now, of course. Now Danny had to acclimate to a baby’s body. He had to stuff all his bits and bobs and corners and knobs into a squishy human form again.

A rich squishy human form, at least. He blinked his eyes up at the luxurious green drapes that covered his crib.

“-looking at, Mother?”

“You have a new baby brother, habibi.”

“A brother? Was grandfather not satisfied with me?”

Danny strained to look over at the voices, but he couldn’t move his head much.

“No, Damian, you are to be the heir to the Demon, and your brother is to be heir to the Bat.”

“I see.”

A woman leaned over Danny- very pretty, with long brown hair and piercing eyes. She was holding a boy in her arms, who looked down at Danny with a serious look.

“He is very small, Mother.”

“You were small too.”

Danny felt sleep creep up on his new mortal form, and he yawned, allowing himself to drift off.

~~~

By the time his mortal body was one, Danny had a lay of the land. Rich family? Check. Luxurious surroundings? Check. Absolute fruitloop of a grandfather? Check check.

Ra’s al Ghul was so… Wacko. Absolutely off his rocker. Also somehow undead, which would mean he was one of Danny’s in the long run.

Danny’s problems to solve, that is. Stupid Clockwork, he knew exactly what he was doing when he sent Danny here. He wanted this crazy bastard done away with, and Danny wanting a burger had been a perfect excuse to send him out on an errand.

Ugh.

He’d learned pretty fast that expressing himself was frowned upon. He personally hadn’t been beaten, but he had seen his flesh-brother take punishments on his behalf.

His four-year-old brother.

A child.

It made rage boil up in Danny’s bones, rage that often sent his fragile body into a feverish state.

His grandfather hated that he was “weak”. Both Talia and Damian defended him.

Danny started to stomp down the bubbling pop pop pop of lava-like rage no matter what. He didn’t care much for Talia- she was just as bad as Ra’s if she let the abuse continue- but Damian had never done anything to deserve their ire.

He had to be better. He had to work harder to assimilate into this form and be the best at everything put before him so that Damian would not be hurt on his behalf again.

~~~

By age six, Danny had figured out how to disconnect, in a way, from flesh-Danny. He could put his body on autopilot and work on poking and prodding himself into any nook or cranny that he could fit.

Somehow he knew that he would be cut off from his complete range of powers until soul and body merged. He couldn’t take Damian away from this place until he was back to full strength.

With a sigh, soul-Danny sat back and surveyed the work he’d gotten done. Half of his being was still spilling stubbornly out of the space left in flesh-Danny. He’d figured out the trick to it, though, so it would probably take him less time on the rest than it had on the first half.

“Daniel.”

Danny snapped back into place, looking slowly at his flesh-brother as he came into the training room.

“Akhi.”

“You are still training? It is late.”

Glancing at the window, Danny noticed that yes, it was dark outside.

“I see. Thank you, Akhi. An appropriate amount of rest will make sure my physical form is at optimal performance.”

Damian smirked proudly at him, placing a warm hand on his shoulder and leading Danny to his chambers.

Danny stayed connected when Damian was around. His flesh-brother deserved nothing less.

~~~

His fever lasted two weeks after Damian was sent to Gotham. Tapping into his powers prematurely to ensure that his brother made it out safe was too much for his physical form to handle yet.

It gave him an idea, though. The Lazarus pits were ectoplasm. Nasty, rotting ectoplasm, but ecto was ecto. A slow siphoning and filtering of the pits would assist in getting him completely snapped together.

His time line had moved up. Once Damian had left, there was no-one around to stand in the way of Ra’s and Danny as far as punishments. Talia would barely even look at him anymore- she had thought he had taken over his flesh-brother’s place in the League somewhere around year four.

Sometimes Danny felt like Clockwork was somewhere laughing at him.

Danny would be laughing at himself if he wasn’t the sucker in this situation.

And he still didn’t have a burger.

~~~

The night before his tenth year, Danny felt a snap as the final pieces of his enormous interdimensional soul fit into the body he’d been placed in. With a crow of delight, he let his other form wash over him.

Danny shot through the ceilings up up up to the clear sky above the base, laughing soundlessly as he got closer and closer to the stars above. He was free. He could go see Damian, and then he could go home!

His flight stuttered to a stop.

He didn’t really want to go back to the Infinite Realms, did he?

Crossing his legs under him, Danny thought very hard about what “home” meant to him.

Jazz’s face flashed across his mind, and then Sam’s and Tucker’s.

With a mounting sadness, he drifted back down to his bed in Nanda Parbat. There was no going home, not anymore. His family and friends as Danny Fenton had long since passed, even beyond his reach as Ghost King.

But Damian- Damian could be home. He could go to Damian, and maybe then he’d finally get what he really wanted.

~~~

“And sho-‘ Danny licked ketchup off his finger. “Dat’s how I came’ere.”

Damian was watching him devour burger number three with a horrified curiosity, as were his other (new!) siblings.

“You- you did not ask any questions of your mentor?”

Danny swallowed his bite of burger and then took a swig of BatCola.

“Nah, why would I?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Tim Drake’s voice was faint and a little shocked.

Taking another bite of his burger, Danny shrugged.

“I jus’ really wanned a burger.”

Damian blinked at him a few times before burying his face in his hands.

“I cannot believe Grandfather thought you the superior heir.”

#dp x batman #dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc #danny phantom #damian wayne

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fictionadventurer · 11 months

Text

Fairy Tale Retelling I'll Never Write: King Thrushbeard as 1930s screwball comedy

The "princess" is the daughter of a business magnate who has managed to hang onto his wealth in the midst of the Depression.

Girl has some kind of "coming-out" ball where she insults all the men with the best '30s zingers available.

Including our young, handsome, witty hero (son of an even richer business magnate) who can go toe-to-toe with her in arguments, until she slaps him with a Thrushbeard nickname that sticks.

Her outraged father declares he'll marry her off to the first tramp who shows up at their door.

Thrushbeard, who's really attracted to this difficult girl, learns of this from his cynical, sharp-tongued, somewhat-socialist journalist friend, and makes some remark about how he'd be willing to live as a hobo to have her. Journalist friend retorts that Thrushbeard couldn't last a day outside his life of luxury.

Because this is a rom-com, this leads to A Bet. If Thrushbeard can successfully wed this girl in the guise of a hobo, he has to live like one for a certain amount of time, without drawing on his father's resources or letting her on to his true identity.

Thrushbeard shows up in disguise, there is Witty Sparring between him and the princess, and the princess winds up marrying him mostly to spite her father--if he thought this threat would make her apologize for her behavior, he had another think coming. Now his family legacy's tied to a hobo and he's got to live with that.

Unfortunately, so does she. The newlyweds are out in the street within moments of the wedding.

There is Comedy about how the princess haa no clue how to function outside her clean and glamorous world, and Thrushbeard's not much better.

With some assist from Journalist Friend (who is not about to let the story of the century slip out of his grasp) they manage to hop a freight car and settle down in a shanty town.

More Comedy about her total inability to complete domestic tasks. So it's not Totally Sexist, she gets the upper hand when her husband also proves unable to complete these tasks he claims were child's play.

There are various attempts to Find Jobs and Make Money, which are all humorously thwarted by Comedy Shenanigans. Journalist Friend has his work cut out for him just to keep these two idiots alive. (He wants to win the bet, but he also doesn't want to be responsible for his buddy's death.)

At one point, the couple winds up in a boxcar again and share a heart-to-heart where they finally see each other as people instead of sparring partners.

Princess finally starts a sidewalk stand where she starts to make a bit of money. In an Unfortunate Coincidence, Thrushbeard's dad shows up in the area, and Thrushbeard has to meet him as himself to keep him from finding out about this cockamamie scheme. During this confrontation (with his father who thinks he's shirking his responsibilities), Thrushbeard is inadvertently responsible for destroying his wife's stand.

To Thrushbeard's horror, his wife responds by demanding a new job to replace the one she lost, and his father gives her a job working in one of his houses.

Now Thrushbeard has to live a double life as himself and as the hobo husband his wife knows.

At a Glittering Party, Thrushbeard as Wealthy Heir is the center of attention while his wife is working as a servant and frugally trying to swipe scraps for his supper.

He tries to avoid her, but Tangled Comedy Mishaps lead him to stumble over her, sending her scraps flying and causing her major embarrassment as some members of the press recognize her.

In trying to help her, he acts too much like her husband, and the secret slips.

His wife slaps him silly.

She subjects him to a scathing tirade about what a heartless nutcase he is, and how the worst part is that she had fallen in love with her hobo of a husband, but he's not even real, and you can die in a ditch for all I care.

She tries to storm out, but he catches her by the wrists and tries to explain that he did it all out of Love for Her, and he did everything wrong and she can have her divorce if she wants, but he loves her more than ever and he'll love her until the day he dies.

She just stares at him, and finally she's like, "You're worse than a nut. You're a sap. And I'm the nut who's falling for it."

(It's a screwball comedy rom-com. Emotional realism has no place here).

Kisses, reconciliation, big proper society wedding. Journalist Friend wins big with his inside scoop (which Mr. and Mrs. Thrushbeard allow him to publish because he did keep them alive (even though this is all his fault) and the story's public anyway so they may as well get the facts from a friendly source.)

Thrushbeard and his wife both take steps to improve their fathers' business practices and help out their hobo friends.

Journalist friend gives them a wedding present of an unpublished photo of them standing in front of their shanty looking all gooey-eyed at each other. The couple hangs it in a place of honor in their fancy house, and the story ends on that image.

#fairy tale retellings #king thrushbeard #adventures in writing #this is my compromise because i can't decide which of my many ideas to work on #so i'll just publish the one i'm only interested in sharing in summary form #(i hope you're envisioning this in black-and-white because that's its true format)

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hyperfixated-maybe · 2 months

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AHOY MATEYS!!!

As I am sure y’all have heard by now, Octonauts is being taken off of Netflix in most (if not all) territories. DO NOT FEAR THOUGH, as there are plenty of other ways to watch it!!! (THIS LIST WILL *NOT* CONTAIN PIRATING WEBSITES CONSIDERING THAT IS WHAT GOT LAD MURDERED BY THE GOVERNMENT.)

First, there is the good old official octonauts YouTube channels. These have compilations, which often include full episodes. It’s not good if you’re looking for any specific episode, but it’s certainly a thing.

There’s also this one! It’s kinda giving MTP vibes, umm but it has a lot of the same style content as the official octonauts channel. It also has other shows like Peter Rabbit.

Just because it’s leaving Netflix doesn’t mean it’s leaving the Netflix YouTube channel! It’s not good tho. They have two full episodes and that’s it. Only useful if you’re looking for ghost forest or skeleton coast. They’re in this playlist with a bunch of clips and like… other content?

AND NOW DRUMROLL PLEASE *BADADADADDADADAADA* SOME FUCKING ANGEL MADE A PLAYLIST OF FULL EPISODES!!! It contain several videos from our fallen comrade MTP, but it collects videos from a lot of other channels. It’s by far the most likely place for you to find a specific episode if you’re looking for one.

There’s also the big Octonauts channel! (I think it’s just octoworld? They got copyright struck) They have three episodes up. I screen recorded them all in case they get lazered.

AND NOW! Because @dolphingirl1234 is amazing, THE DRIVE!there’s three episodes on it rn.

I’m trying to get my three recorded eps either on here, or in a drive of my own (idk how) but I’ll figure out how to get them to you, especially if/when the big octonauts channel gets assassinated.

#octonauts #Let’s hope none of this is illegal bc I don’t want to be murdered #Like a certain someone we know

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talkfastlibrary · 1 year

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A Second Meeting—Jake Seresin (An Arrangement Series)

**the dress photo is simply for the outfit not how I imagine reader to be! So it’s here simply for outfit choice🙂

An Arrangement Masterlist

Follow here for all updates as I do not have a taglist

Synopsis: you meet up with Jake again to discuss The Arrangement but your questions remain unanswered. Yet, you find out a bit more about Jake.

word count: 2.2k

Feedback is always welcome!

Enjoy!

****

Three days have gone by since dinner with Jake and you’re starting to think it was an illusion or a weird dream. Reynolds has been driving you everywhere just like Jake said which was nice to save money on gas but also strange because you’re not used to this.

On Thursday Reynolds arrived with a black legal envelope and you ask if it’s the paperwork Jake mentioned. Reynolds nodded and you left it on your counter for two more days.

A week and many debates in your mind later, you finally decided to open it just to see what’s inside. You’re surprised to find it’s only five pages long. The first couple are about him, his schooling, random information, his accomplishments both in the Navy and otherwise, his likes and dislikes.

Then there’s lists of what you’ll have access to; his house(s), cars, private plane, vacation homes, a credit card of hers linked to his account and then any form of a physical relationship should you desire one. He lists that he’s a good cuddler and gives great massages. He says he will be an ear for her whenever she needs and that he’s as much her companion as she is his.

The last page lists what she’d need to oblige to; the Naval Aviation birthday at the end of the month, naval dinners, weddings, vacations, and family get-togethers. At the bottom is a place for the both of them to sign then a post-it note from him stating your grandmother’s medical bills and further assistance from nursing staff has been taken care of by him.

A lump forms in your throat at that nugget of information and just to make sure you open up your emails to see the final payment notices from all of your grandmother’s expenses. The papers drop to the floor and you’re soon to follow in a crumpled heap. You start to cry but then pull yourself together quickly because you know once you start you won’t be able to stop.

“Keep it together,” you whisper to yourself and shuffle the papers back in order.

Then you start to truly think of all the things he can help you with financially; you could move your grandma back home, pay off your loans and debts on credit cards you used for your grandma. You pick up the last piece of paper that has his note and there’s a phone number next to it.

You take out your phone and type in the number followed by a quick text:

I read the paperwork. I still have questions. Can we meet again?

His response is fairly quick back:

Of course. Join me for brunch tomorrow? Reynolds will know where to take you, he’ll be there by 11:00

You simple like the response. Your heart is pounding.

Are you actually going to agree to this?

***

Reynolds is knocking on your door at 11:00 and he smiles when you open the door.

“Good morning, Reynolds.”

“Good morning, Miss y/n.”

“I hate to ask…but does this look okay? I don’t want to be underdressed,” you press down on your light green dress. It reminded you of Jake’s eyes.

“You look wonderful. Mr. Seresin will agree, I’m sure.”

“Okay,” you exhale and follow him to the car. “Where are we going?”

“A favorite brunch spot of his called Horizons.”

“Oh…” you chew on your lip as you climb into the backseat. You were almost hoping it would be at his home, surely he has staff to cook for him. Why would he want to cook for you anyway?

The drive is only thirty minutes and you’re tapping on the black envelope with the paperwork you pulled from your bag. You run through the questions you had so you don’t forget them. When you arrive at the restaurant you see it’s along the water, luxury cars are shining in the morning sun.

Just like with dinner, the host walks you to the back on the deck outside where Jake is. He stands up when you appear, all smiles and so very handsome. He looks wonderful in tan chinos and a green sweater that matches your dress perfectly.

“Good morning, y/n,” he greets. His eyes slide down to the envelope but he doesn’t comment on it.

“Morning,” you respond shyly.

“I hope you’re hungry, they have wonderful omelets,” he pulls out your chair.

“Do they have pancakes?”

“Yes, they have pancakes.”

After placing your order and being given your drinks, you slide the black envelope on the table but Jake covers your hand. You look up and he has a slight frown on his face.

“We don’t have to talk about that now,” he removes his hand then proceeds to cut up his egg. “Tell me about your week, what did you do?”

You stare at him in confusion and he senses your hesitancy. He shifts his gaze from his breakfast to your puzzled expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m so confused and have so many questions about all of this…”

“I know, and I promise we will discuss it.”

“But you said the ball was in my court, so can’t we talk about it now?”

“That depends,” he grins.

“On?”

“By saying the ball is in your court…does that mean you agree and signed the form?”

You close your mouth then huff because you haven’t agreed to anything and definitely didn’t sign for it. You felt a bit of a kinship to the little mermaid, Ariel, signing that could mean signing your life away for all you knew. You were going to voice all your concerns. He smiles back easily because he knows he’s got you, and it’s not in a patronizing way which makes it worse.

“That’s what I thought. Now, tell me about your week. I’ve thought of you everyday.”

Your stomach flips at that comment. How does he do that? He slips in these one liners that always catches you off guard but also makes you feel fuzzy inside.

You continue your breakfast and tell him about your week. How busy you’ve been, how late you’ve been getting home from work and the constant headache you seem to be getting. While you’re talking you realize how easy it is to talk to him. You spill everything you’ve been feeling and he really listens which is something you’re not used to.

While he takes care of the bill you gaze out at the water watching the waves ebb and flow.

“Would you like to walk along the beach?” he asks.

“Could we?”

“Of course, I take it you didn’t bring a sweater?”

“No…”

“I came prepared,” he nods, then pulls a cream cardigan from the back of his chair as he stands. You stand up as well.

“I’ll be okay–”

But then a breeze blows and you shiver. He gives you a knowing look then holds up the cardigan. You turn around as he helps you put it on, his fingers brush the top of your arms and you shiver again.

“Fits you perfectly,” he mumbles, his breath blowing in your ear. He’s standing very close to you.

“Is it yours?” you spin away from him. Being so close is making it hard for you to think.

“No. I bought it for you.”

“What?” you squeak, eyes widening at the gesture. “You didn’t have to–”

“I wanted to,” he shrugs, placing his hands in his pockets. He rolls back and forth on the balls of his feet then jerks his head towards the water. “How about that walk?”

It’s a little steep and rocky getting down to the water, you’re grateful you decided on a nice pair of sandals and not your wedges you were debating on. There’s one more big drop and you pause staring at the distance of it. Jake hopped down no problem.

“Jump,” he holds out his arms, “I’ve got you.”

You inch forward, some pebbles tumble to the earth as you crouch down. You gauge the distance again between you and his open arms.

“Are you sure?” you chew on your lip.

“Positive. Jump, y/n,” he commands softly, his fingers motioning you forward.

You suck in a deep breath, close your eyes and push off. You gasp the short moment you’re in the air and then you’re in the sturdy arms of Jake, his hands curve around your waist and lower back while yours is locked behind his neck.

“Why’d you close your eyes?” he asks.

“So it’d be over faster,” you exhale.

He sets you down, gently releasing you from his hold. You’re not sure if he did that to keep you at ease or if he didn’t really want to touch you.

“You have more questions, don’t you?” he moves through the sand and you follow.

“Only a hundred.”

You walk in silence for a bit and he still keeps a chaste distance between the two of you then a realization comes to your mind.

“Why aren’t you at work?”

“I have Sundays off,” he shrugs gazing out on the water.

“Oh…”

“Would you like to sit for a while?” he motions towards a large piece of driftwood that has been flattened enough to make a decent bench. You nod and join him on the smooth wood.

You count in your head to eighty-three seconds then take that as your cue to ask your first question. You open your mouth but he speaks first.

“Amazing how water can be so calm and then so violent the next, isn’t it?”

You stare out at the water, a few white caps rolling in and then outlines of boats in the distance. It doesn’t look too bad from here but you’ve read about riptides and how dangerous they can be under the surface of the water.

“Do you not like the water?” you ask carefully, somehow this seems like a sensitive topic for him.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs leaning on his knees. “It reminds me of you, actually. You look so calm and peaceful on the outside but on the inside, you’ve got a riptide, a true force. I saw it last week at dinner with how quick you jumped to all of those conclusions about me.”

You sit up a little straighter at the mention of riptides, it was like he was reading your mind.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“No, no, you have every right to think of all angles of this. I want to know your questions, y/n, I do. But I first need you to trust me that there is no recourse or trap of some kind.”

“How can I trust you when I hardly know you?” you’re staring at him as he stares at the water, the soft oceanic breeze tousles his hair. The undersides of his eyes look a little dark, like he hasn’t been sleeping.

“You read all about me in the paperwork.”

“That’s not the same, that’s just words on a sheet but it doesn’t really show me who you are. And signing it would feel like I’m signing my life away to the devil or Ursula.”

“Ursula?” he cocks his head to the side smirking, “from the Little Mermaid?”

“Yes. Ariel lost her voice, I don’t want to lose mine.”

“That’s not going to happen. You have a wonderful voice that is very sure and profound. You might be a little closer to the devil aspect.”

“Are you the devil?”

“I’ve been referred to him once or twice,” he nods. “Does that scare you?”

You squint your eyes at him puckering your lips. You notice the way his eyes flick down to your lips and you look over the top of his head.

“Turn forward,” you instruct and he does so, “now look to the right…”

“What are you looking for?”

“Horns. I don’t see any so you must not be the devil.”

That makes him laugh, it causes his eyes to crinkle and you can see how nice his teeth are. He really does have a great smile.

“You’re sweet.”

“Can we discuss the paperwork now?”

“Not yet, let’s enjoy the water for a bit longer.”

You sit in silence watching the waves roll and flower over the shore with seagulls swooping down low. The water looks so inviting you remove your sandals then walk to the edge of the beach. The wet sand is a little cool but the squish feels nice between your toes. You take a few paces forward and then the water rolls over your feet causing you to squeal at the coolness. You close your eyes inhaling the fresh salty air, the skirt of your dress flapping against your legs and one sleeve of your cardigan falls down your shoulder.

Your questions are still bouncing around your head but now a new part of you is wishing Jake would come up behind you and wrap his arms around you. You want to hear his voice close to your ear again and maybe see what his smile feels like against your own lips. With a sigh, you open your eyes then turn around to see he’s already staring at you, his gaze intense and smoldering. It makes your cheeks warm and also a little sad because you can see a violent storm in his eyes, just like the one he was talking about with the water.

What’s his violent storm?

#an arrangement #an arrangement series #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fic #jake seresin writing

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writingforatwistedworld · 2 years

Note

hi! I love your blog, you have great ideas for Au's and writing the characters.

Could I ask for Idia, Azul and Vil's reaction to which reader is getting married but chooses to leave their partner standing at the altar and run away with them? it was an arranged marriage or something

(yandere au, please excuse my english, I'm using a translator)

Yandere x reader

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, marriage, unhealthy relationship, kidnapping, imprisonment, illegal substances, manipulation, obsession

Azul Ashengrotto, Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud-Running away from an arranged marriage with them

Ok, first of all, how was it even able to come this far?

I mean, this man takes everyone out who just looks at you in a funny way

No matter how suave he is with everybody elso he is a huge manipulative softy around you and… now you are getting married?

Mhm great ok but why isn’t he the one signing those papaers??!

Instead there is that random stranger who, oh goodness, looks just like a fool who would accept even a contract from the most obvious scammer in this world

And would you look at that? It’s a contract! With the fools signature!

Having no other choice but to hand you over your guests and whoever you were forced to marry can now only watch as you to vanish into the sea

“You are shaking dear. Were you so afraid of getting maried to them? Don’t you worry, I will take care of you.”

Well at least you now have the option to escape whilst you were chained to some stranger in the earlier scenario…

But how was our local octopus sushi roll capable of getting that signature?

Of course Azul wouldn’t just waltz into the room and take you with him

He might, and the keyword is might, have used… legal and less legal substances to make your now ex-fiance agree to hand you over in exchange for a stack of money

Never mind the two danger noodles who were standing behind Azul and hovered over them whilst signing the papers

But hey! You are now having a home here! Under water! With chances as good as none to anyone ever finding you! More time for the two of you... yay?

Ok, Vil is, in theory and sense, rich from being so famous

And somehow the person who set this marriage up was able to push through with the preparations without problems?

Uh... is this some weird parallel dimension?

Despite his harshness whenever beauty (and how dry your hands looked) was presented in the discussions you two shared until now he is... in truth very tender whenever he is thinking about you

Rook being a menace? Show him a photo of you and he is silent once more

Epel didn't do his skincare routine again? Tell him something about you he didn't know and he is doing it for the young man

An assistant during a modeling gig spilled coffee over his clothing? Mention you and he is calm

Tell him that you are getting forcfully married off? Well then... oh uh... I think there is nothing there to stop him from breaking down the door

Epel and Rook also there, the first ready to snatch the cake and the second there to protect Vils “beau visage” (I can already feel the French going for my throat)

Yeah, that refined, cool mask is off and he is ready to burn the building to the ground, public image be damned!

Vil, sweety, I think you are stealing a certain faes role... TAKE THOSE FLAMES AWAY FROM ME!!!

But *ahem* back to them burning down buildings

Before you know it Vil is carrying you bridal style whilst scowling that things got this far

Oh? Happiness? Yes. You will experience that for a while... until you realize that you are trapped in a golden cage filled with skin care products and luxury brands... and oh! Almost forgot! With Vil Schoenheit himself, the legend, taking care of you

But how was he able to make sure no one found out about the incident?

Well, now there is a new kind of beef. Vil posted that there was a certain individual who had been harassing him and who wants to end his career with lies. Whoops! He also leaked their account!

But my dear, don't you worry about that. All you need to do is to stay in your little golden cage, stand in still like Snow White did in her coffin and just enjoy the presence of your beloved. No need to think about someone who will be hunted down soon by an angry mob after all...

You would be pardoned to think “Idia is a shut-in. No way he will blow that marriage up!”

I said pardoned, not being correct

You see, he might not be able to so much in person but that doesn't mean he behind a screen can't

No, seriously, take that PC away before he ends them once and for all

Also, you can ruin someone without a huge following on social media

Just be someone who can hack and is able to manipulate someone's data in their files

Suddenly police is storming the room, screaming at your fiancee to raise their hands slowly

Mhm, that was Idia

So still standing there in shook you didn't even notice the younger Shroud brother guiding you to his sibling

And that was where the awkward silence began

I mean, you were his sun, Hades Olymp, so close and yet so far away...

So how could he ever bear seeing you with another person?

Probably the best one to end up with of these three. He will not force affection upon you (being too shy himself), give you too much direct attention (only looking at you when you are distracted) and will even create a simulation of the outside world just for you

But why does the air feel so tense? Why does it feel like you have entered into a place beyond return, as if you are trapped in the Underworld?

Wes it his staring whenever you slept, catching him whenever you woke up and barely opening your eyes? Or were it the little touches of fingertips whenever he gave you something, feeling as if you had been burned

But no need to worry! They are gone and you are free! In his own, small world...

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pascaloverx · 1 month

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To Begin Again

THREE

Summary: You're a new teacher at a large and influential school. It's a risky step for you, as you've been running from your ex for almost two years. But when Dumbledore asks you to take on a class at the renowned Hogwarts, you can't refuse. However, your life as a newly arrived teacher won't be easy. Especially when the other teachers don't seem eager to make friends. Or rather, two teachers in particular: Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

Author's Note: Welcome, dear readers. Please leave your comments if you enjoy fanfiction. This fanfic takes place almost in the real world (with the addition of werewolves) and is not a wizarding fanfic. There will be some differences and changes in things from the Harry Potter story or other fanfics in the HP universe, but I promise to do my best writing this fanfic. There will be a love triangle coming in this fanfic.

TWO FOUR

One week since your arrival at Hogwarts has passed faster than you imagined. During this time, you discovered some things: single teachers tend to live in a building exclusive to Hogwarts, with one floor designated for each pair of teachers. Each floor is divided into two large rooms on the right and two on the left. These rooms, almost like suites, have a shared entrance between the two rooms leading to a bathroom. Meals are taken at the same time as the students but in a specific staff wing.

Before your arrival, there was a draw to determine who would share the floor and bathroom with you. To your "luck" (with irony), your floor mate is none other than Sirius Black. On the same floor as you, there are also Peter Pettigrew and Bellatrix Lestrange. Other married teachers or staff members of Hogwarts live in houses or mansions in the nearest village to Hogwarts. Students spend most of the school year residing at Hogwarts, being released only on festive dates and weekends if they want to spend time with their families. Not all families reside near Hogwarts or in London, so many students spend the year at Hogwarts. Harry Potter's parents, Lily and James, work at the school and live in the village. Therefore, Harry spends weekends with them. Draco Malfoy isn't as lucky. Lucius Malfoy, from what you've been told, prefers a luxurious life as CEO of a conglomerate over coming to London to visit his son. He apparently has a house in the village where he sends Draco's mother, Narcissa Malfoy, when he's tired of marital life. She seems to be Draco's parental support. According to Remus, Narcissa volunteers frequently to help with school matters. Lucius Malfoy is a major donor of money to assist with the school's financial issues. Hermione Granger's parents are also known to make generous donations to Hogwarts, but as they are not wealthy, this means they spend more time working than being able to care for her. Therefore, she only visits them on festive dates. They apparently live in London, so it's a long train journey to get there. Just thinking about the poor girl spending much of her holidays on a train for hours makes you feel a bit exhausted. Ron Weasley is the son of two Hogwarts employees. Molly Weasley works in the school's administration, while Arthur Weasley works as a librarian. They live in a large house in the village, from what you've heard.

And those were some of the pieces of information you managed to gather during this week. McGonagall assigned you to assist two teachers in their classes on your only day off, which happens to be today. Something tells you she might not have liked you much, but perhaps she just wants you to integrate into the team. And once again, by irony of fate, you will be assisting precisely the teachers you already know: Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. A curious fact is that you couldn't find out the reason why Lupin has a separate room from all the other teachers and it's so close to the school entrance.

"Excuse me, professor. May I come in to assist you on this fine morning?" You say as you enter Remus Lupin's classroom. His class takes place in an auditorium. Your voice echoes throughout the entire auditorium, and you feel embarrassed.

"Of course, please come in." Lupin replies, smiling warmly as he gestures for you to enter the classroom. The students look at you curiously, especially those who are not already your fans, like Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. You must have been the first one to, instead of fueling their rivalry, bring them together.

"Today, my dear actors, we will be doing some exercises that will prepare you for any theater play. Our first exercise and main lesson is improvisation. Professor Y/L/N and I will demonstrate it for you, and then you will practice with each other." Lupin says, gesturing for you to step onto the stage. As the students step down from the auditorium stage and take their seats as if they were spectators, you climb up, feeling uncertain if you are the best person to assist Lupin.

"Professor, who will tell you what to improvise?" Hermione Granger asks, all smart and eager. The smile she opens for being the first to ask is encouraging. You notice out of the corner of your eye Draco Malfoy sticking his tongue out towards Hermione. Harry looks at him and makes a gesture as if he's going to attack.

"I think it could be Mr. Potter. He seems eager to help us. Don't you think so, Remus?" You say, trying to attract the attention of the three students and observing them focus their attention on you. And then, when Malfoy was about to laugh at Potter, you put two fingers pointed at your eyes and then pointed them at Malfoy, as if to say, "I've got my eye on you."

"Indeed. Potter will tell us where the improvisation takes place, Granger will tell us who we are to each other, and Malfoy will tell us what we're doing. Learn that a good improvisation requires the factors: Where, Who, and What. Now let's see what my future actors have for this improvisation." Lupin seems to have noticed the same thing as you. In the end, it seems like you two make a good teaching duo.

"You're in a pub." Potter says quickly. It seems like he already had that answer ready to go. You and Remus exchange a glance and almost laugh, thinking that you'll probably have to pretend to be drunk. And the worst part, in front of the students.

"You guys are friends who have feelings for each other." Granger says after thinking for a moment. Something tells you she wants to see some good drama unfold.

"And you guys are arguing. About these feelings that Granger made up." Malfoy finishes the plot of the performance you and Lupin will have to do. You feel nervous. It's strange to do this kind of thing with someone you've known for a short time.

"You always act like this when we go out drinking. Flirting with anyone without remembering that we're together." Lupin starts the scene, giving you a slight wink while trying to pretend to be drunk and annoyed.

"That's rich coming from you. You're always out and about with a different person, like some big Casanova. Just to be clear, in a friendship, you have permission to flirt with other people." You act, portraying a sense of indignation.

"Our... our moments together should be just ours. But of course, you don't understand, how could you? You only think of yourself." Lupin says, and it's so funny the way he says it that you laugh, breaking character, but you quickly try to recover and finish the performance.

"You're mistaken, you stubborn man. I think of you. Night and day, all the time if it matters." You say, being overly dramatic, but it seems like the students and Lupin found it amusing. Your finger is pointed at the middle of Lupin's chest as if accusing him.

"Know that I think of you too. More than necessary, more than anyone would like to admit." Lupin says, holding your finger and looking deeply into your eyes. It's almost enchanting to gaze into his eyes. You both lean in closer, without breaking eye contact. Until you hear a noise like two bodies hitting the ground and immediately look down. Malfoy and Potter are fighting clumsily. You and Lupin rush down to intervene, with you holding onto Malfoy, who was pulling Potter's hair this time, and Lupin, who takes the task of lifting Potter off the ground and holding him back. No real harm came to either of them. After a stern talking-to from Lupin, both of them apologized, even Malfoy. It might have been the fear of facing McGonagall or missing the rest of the week's classes, or perhaps the prospect of their parents having to come in. You're not entirely sure what brought about the reconciliation, but it worked.

"Everyone else is dismissed. Except for Malfoy and Potter. As punishment, you'll accompany Professor Y/L/N to her next class as assistants and participate in the lesson. I'll inform the teacher of your scheduled class that you'll be otherwise occupied. When Professor Y/L/N authorizes it, you'll be released from punishment." Remus says, and you look at him in confusion. Is the punishment for them or for you?

"But Professor..." Draco and Harry speak in unison, looking at each other in surprise. You and Lupin laugh, and then you gently touch their shoulders. Then you point to the exit of the auditorium.

"Follow me, boys. Professor Black must be waiting for us." You say, leading them out. Before leaving, you wave gently to Remus, who waves back. The moments of improvisation between you are playing in your head like a movie trailer. The three of you take a long route, with Malfoy and Potter arguing about who is to blame for their punishment and which way to go. It feels like an eternity until you arrive at the hall where Sirius's class takes place.

"Got lost on the way and needed the help of two troublemakers to get to me, Y/N?" Sirius asks, looking at you with a hint of mockery. You take a deep breath because you know you can't curse him. At least not right now.

"No, Black. The two troublemakers are accompanying me as punishment, and I came to assist you in the dance class. I never imagined you'd teach this kind of class." You say, teasing Sirius, who continues with a charming crooked smile on his face.

"So, I have to inform you both that you'll be partners. We're practicing ballroom dancing today, which gives me the unique opportunity to teach this class with a partner. I'm sure Harry and Draco will manage each other just fine. In fact, I'll let you decide who will lead and who will follow." Sirius says, turning on the music for you to dance and extending his hand towards you. You smile, realizing it might be easier to handle the Potter/Malfoy rivalry than you thought.

"You handle them well. Better than I imagined. At least you know how to do that." You say as you feel Sirius' hand firmly hold your waist and guide you. One, two, three, one, two, three. You're being led by him across the dance floor, reaching certain realizations you'd rather not admit. The main one being that you're attracted to Sirius Black. The second major realization is that he's an excellent teacher.

"I know how to do many things well. I hope I can show you all of them someday. But it's easy to get them to focus in class when your lesson requires meticulous concentration. Not to mention, the music and the steps help scatter conversations." Sirius says with a playful tone, leading you through the dance with confidence.

"I find you handsome, and it makes me uncomfortable." Slips out of your mouth accidentally, and you silently thank the gods that apparently no one else heard you. Well, no one else except the idiot in front of you.

"Let me see if I got this right. Are you uncomfortable because of my beauty or because you find me handsome?" Sirius teases, poking fun at you. You're not sure how to respond, pretending to observe the students. You actually check on Malfoy and Potter, and it seems that besides finding their rhythm, they found a bit of harmony. Malfoy even let Potter lead him in the dance.

"I think it's the second option. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I didn't come here for this. I don't even know why I said that. Just pretend you didn't hear it." You deflect, stepping back a bit from Sirius. As soon as he senses your retreat, he twirls you around and steps closer to you.

"Go out with me. We can go to a bar nearby. If you want, I can invite Lupin. Maybe then you'll feel more comfortable talking about how you want..." Sirius starts to say, but you purposefully step on his foot.

"Watch what you say. The next place I hit won't be your feet." You try to sound threatening, but it doesn't seem to work. Sirius bites his lip and pulls your body close to his, making a strangely sexy dance move.

"I'm looking forward to our date tonight." Sirius says to you, then stops the dance. "Students, congratulations, you managed to concentrate enough for no one to get hurt in this class. Special congratulations to you, Potter." Sirius says, looking in the direction of Malfoy and Potter.

"And congratulations to you too, Malfoy. You two are excused from accompanying me. But no fights on the way out." You say, looking at the two of them, who nod almost in unison and quickly leave the class with the other students.

"How will we handle the bathroom schedule of the bathroom that we share, since we're going out together tonight?" You ask as you feel Sirius getting close behind you. You hear his muffled laughter near your ear and shiver all over.

"Not to be obvious, but I think we're grown-ups. We can use the same bathroom without any major issues." Sirius says, trying to sound charming, and you look at him seriously. Then you lightly slap his arm and leave the hall. After all, now you have a date, not only with one, but with two men. If that can be considered a date, after all.

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