#An now my work schedule might go back to normal or at least as normal as the customer service industry gets... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

owlwithanapple · 5 months ago

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Content : Adult Content

Characters : Bruce Wayne x Y/N

“Y/N, I have an emergency, maybe a lot of emergency, reschedule all my meetings. I'll be back in a maybe few hours or late night? Do it for me, thanks.” Bruce says walking out of his office as he puts on the jacket that matches his pants.

Y/N had been working at Wayne Enterprises as Bruce's personal assistant for almost a year now? Which was quite an accomplishment, considering most people quit for the same reason. He always seemed to have a lot of“emergency” and his poor assistant ended up having to reschedule his entire schedule.

Other than that, he didn't give much more work and the pay was generous. Maybe too freaking generous. Sure, he had to compensate Y/N enough to keep them from asking any questions, the least he needed was for his assistant to find out that he was none other than the Dark Knight.

“Oh, my sweet girl. Go buy yourself something nice to make up for it, don't worry about the price and charge it to my account. And don’t hesitate, you have my word.” Bruce winked seductively added before calling the elevator.

“Uh huh. Emergency again? What a busy man you are. I should considering buying a condo since you said charge it to your account.” There is sarcasm in your words to make fun of him.

He chuckled slightly when heard your comment. You were usually pretty witty and a little bit naughty, it was one of the things that made both of you working together so enjoyable.

The elevator stopped at the parking lot and he walked over to his car. He joked before getting into the car. “Just don't spend more than you make. I can't have my assistant going bankrupt.”

“Gotcha, daddy~since I have your card.” You stand aside his car winking at him playfully as he allows you to spend his money while you played his card in hand.

He was momentarily taken back by the wink. The comment combined with the wink made his thoughts go somewhere they shouldn't. He managed to regain composure and chuckled again.

“Keep it up because I might just have to fire you.” He said jokingly, although it came out sounding a little less like a joke than he intended.

“I know very well that you won't do that.” You smirked confidently as you’re not afraid he would fire you.

He chuckled and shake his head. He started the car and revved the engine a few times. “I like your confidence, charming and hot. I'm off. Don’t have too much fun with my card.”

You couldn't help but laugh, enjoying the teasing interaction between the two of you during work time. After watching his car leave, you returned to the office to handle the work he assigned to you.

Bruce smirked as he watched you walk away. You were certainly a breath of fresh air from the usual sticklers that worked in high positions at Wayne Enterprises. As he drove to the batcave, Bruce still kept your comment in his mind from earlier.

‘Daddy’

Normally he’d find that statement offensive, it sounded like she was calling him an old man. But for some reason, coming from you it didn’t have the same effect. The smile on his lips couldn't be concealed at all when recalling every banter between you two.

A few hours later, Bruce returned to Wayne Enterprises. He was tired from the night, the amount of criminals trying to take advantage of his “busy schedule” seemed to have increased. He was also in a pretty foul mood, his night had been quite unproductive, most criminals seemed to have been staying indoors.

Bruce walked into the building and was heading back to his office when he caught a glimpse of you through your office door. You still working on his schedule. Bruce paused in the doorway, watching you silently for a few moments.

As Bruce watched, he couldn’t help but notice how pretty you looked, the perfect blend of sharp and soft, which somehow fit together perfectly. He enjoyed you around him while working with him, not boring and serious like soldiers. It’s fun and bantering like intimate close friends.

He realized hadn’t said a word since walking in and he had been standing there watching you for what probably seemed like an uncomfortable amount of time. It only further solidified his assumption that he didn’t get out enough.

You leaned beside the shelf and flipped the document that he hasn’t finalized and filled out yet, obviously didn’t notice he’s back to Wayne Enterprises. Bruce cleared his throat gently to get your attention “I’m back, sweet girl.”

“How long you standing there? You should bang into my office rather than standing like a statue.” You close the document putting it back on desk. “Oh by the way, welcome back, handsome. So what’s the emergency?”

He stepped a bit closer, now leaning against the doorway as he watched her. He shoved his hand up and sighed but he pulled back a smiles as he don’t want to expose Batman’s duty. “Just some part time job. Must be annoying having to constantly deal with my ‘emergencies’, but I do appreciate it. I don’t know what I’d do without a competent assistant.”

You tilt your head because you feel he’s so suspicious especially about the emergency he mentioned, but didn’t force him to talk about it. He’s your boss and you’re his personal assistant, respect each other boundaries “Uh huh. What a busy man you are. The schedule I already rescheduled it.”

“Well done, sweet girl. I expected nothing less from my favorite assistant.” Bruce answered, a hint of a smile and teasing on his lips.

He admiring the way you held yourself, as assistant you’re confident and calm, as a close friend you’re naughty and teasing. Something that seemed to be harder to find in Gotham.

Bruce’s eyes moved to the clock and he straightened himself with a sigh. “It’s late, you should get going. Can’t let sweet girl like you work overtime again.”

“Yup. I need a good nap, especially my boss trusts me so much then I have to face a mountain of paperwork.”You rolled your eyes when he still flirted with you. You start packing things into your handbag and prepare to go home.

“Yeah, you look tired—.“ Bruce realized he can’t stopped to flirt with you. Maybe is the casual way to talk with you including some flirty things like this. He was about to tell you looked good, even tired.

Instead, he said “Well, drive safe. Can’t have my favourite assistant getting in any accidents.”He started to walk away but paused and added flirtatious words. “I’m watching you and my account transaction history. Don’t think I’ve forgotten to see what you bought with my card.”

You pouted at him like you’re thinking about what you were going to buy when his cards were in your hand, suddenly an idea appeared on your mind and you made a sound like real “Opps. Maybe a condo? Or Range Rover? Hahahaha. Goodbye, Bruce.”

He chuckled at your retort. He had to give it to you, you are just as witty and so attractive just like his ex lover Selina Kyle, but both of you are different ways of charming people. Bruce nodded in response. “Night. My sweet girl.”

After you left, Bruce returned to his own office and sat at his desk. He was supposed to finish some paperwork, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Specifically, on you. Bruce had never considered himself a very romantic or sexual person. After all, with his work as Batman, he didn’t have much time for romance. With you or Selina Kyle.

And yet, here he was, sitting in his office and his thoughts were on you. Not on criminals or the Batman, but on a beautiful 25 year old woman who is his personal assistant. Bruce leaned back in his desk chair and sighed, it was very unlikely that he’d get anything done tonight.

He was sure most people in similar circumstances would go out to a bar and flirt with an attractive woman, maybe even bring her home and have some “fun”. But Bruce wasn’t most people. The idea of going to a bar to flirt with some random women wasn’t appealing, he didn’t work that way.

He had to admit, the thought of bringing you home and having some “fun” was very appealing…Holy shit…No. He ran a hand over his face. Was he really thinking about bringing you , his attractive younger assistant home?

Damn his mind. It would be crazy. Insane even. He’d lose his favorite sweet assistant, the one person in Wayne Enterprises he could trust and enjoyed working with. Not only that, you were much younger than him, almost 10 years. How old was he? A 35 year old man thinking about a 25 year old like this?

No. He couldn’t think like that. Besides, there was the chance that you had already in a relationship. It was probably the most likely scenario anyway. He pinched his nose bridge and murmured “What a sweet girl..”

Suddenly, an unbidden thought popped into his mind: if you are single, would you be into him? Bruce shake his head. Since when did he think in that way? Of course not. How many times had he heard the old trope about people not dating their bosses.

In your apartment, you sat down on the couch, scrolling and browsing online by use your laptop. You had your legs tucked under yourself, laptop in lap as you typed away, looking through items to charge to your boss’ credit card…As you browsed, kept your mind occupied with other things, so you didn’t accidentally go overboard.

Finally, you made a decision which item you should buy for yourself. An online transaction appears in his account. It’s you using his card to purchase a whole new coffee machine, especially the expensive one that includes a lot of new equipment.

‘Bing.’

He looked up from his work after the noise and went to his computer. Opening it up and looking at the transaction that has just popped up. Bruce’s eyes widened slightly when he realized what it was. ‘She’s certainly not holding back…’ He thought with a smirk.

In the same time, you laughed at the purchase price and succeeded. You never holding back especially you have this special treatment which is personally given by your boss. You take a screenshot for the transaction and send it to his chat account. “Thanks~my favorite boss. Love you so much.”

Bruce’s computer pinged again as he received a message. He smiled as he read that you had thanked him and said you love him. He knew you didn’t mean it in a romantic way, and yet for some stupid reason, it made his heart flutter. He quickly wrote a short reply. “Goodnight, my sweet girl.”

“Night night, my boss.” You type a message and send it to him. You feel a little sleepy, before that you go into the bathroom, take off your clothes and take a hot bath. You come out of the bathroom with naked, you dry your body and hair, put on your lace nightgown and climbed on the bed to sleep.

By the time Bruce saw the reply on his computer, he had turned it off and was on his way back to the manor. He kept thinking about the email, especially when you had thanked him, called him “favorite” and said you“love” him. He knew he shouldn’t be this excited for something that might have just been a funny remark, but he couldn’t help it.

He wasn’t focused on the road, just letting the autopilot car drive by itself while his thoughts were still filled with his assistant. After a while he made his way to his bedroom. It’s not like he would get much work done anyway if his thoughts were preoccupied with his very attractive personal assistant.

Bruce stripped out of his clothes, taking a quick shower, just like you , came out just as naked and dried his body with a towel. He had no reason to wear any clothes to bed, completely exposed himself. He stood in front of the mirror. He was a playboy in Gotham City. Thanks to his alter ego as Batman fighting criminals, he had such attractive muscles. He lying under his covers, closed his eyes and sleep.

Morning comes, you arrive at your work building early as usual. You stepped into the elevator and scan the access card to go directly to Bruce's office. After arriving at the floor, you go to the office kitchen to make two cups of coffee. Bring it into his office, put his credit card on the desk and return it to him, then sort out the documents on the desk.

A little while later, Bruce arrived. After parking his car in the parking lot, made his way inside, greeted by many of his employees, most of them greeted him with a smile. He got into the elevator and get to his floor. He didn’t have to wait long before it arrived.

Bruce walked through the hallway that led to his office. He slowed slightly as he passed your office, but didn’t stop. Arriving at his office, he pushed the door open. As expected, you are already at work. Two cups of coffee sat on his desk, along with the file he had been working with last night.

Bruce smirked when he saw his credit card on his desk, it seemed like you were enjoying the benefits it gave you. He picked up the card and put it back into his wallet. Bruce took the coffees and smiled his thanks. He said with a chuckle. “I see you’re already putting that card to good use. Did you have fun with my credit card yesterday?”

You chuckled and turned your back to him while sorting out the documents, you answered him in a teasing tone as usual. “You know. A coffee machine. I've always wanted one in my apartment.”

“And the most expensive one you could find, I assume…?” He said in a teasing voice, a smirk still on his lips. Bruce picked up a cup and took a sip of the hot coffee. It was perfect as always.

You stop what you are doing and turn around to give him a smug smile. You look around the office to make sure no one is outside, then you walk over to him and sit at his desk. “I was thinking about the expensive stuff suits your taste. Maybe you can stopped by and I can make a coffee for you with my new coffee machine. If you free.”

He watched you go over to his desk and sit on the edge, a smirk on lips. He was momentarily surprised by how close you were sitting. When you made the suggestion to have a drink in your apartment, something flashed through Bruce’s mind. For a moment, he almost thought you are insinuating something.

Bruce placed his cup of coffee down on his desk and stood up, standing directly in front of you. He looked down at you , he almost towered over you while you sitting down. He leaned closer, his arms folded across his chest. “Maybe…I should be free sometime. I’d need to know your address though…”

You chuckled and nodded slightly, then took out your phone and sent the address of your apartment and the exact location to his chatroom. “There. Remember mark it as important.”

Bing—

Bruce heard the sound of his phone notifying him of a new message and picked it up. The message, your apartment’s address. He smiled when you made the comment and looked up from his phone. “Don’t pretend like you’re not handing your address out to every guy you meet.”

You grabbed his tie pulled it closer to make him standing between your legs. You stroke his tie like tracing the sensations with your fingers. He was standing between your legs now. “Because the others… I never invited them to come stopped by in my apartment for a coffee.”

Bruce’s breath hitched when you pulled him closer and started touching his tie, his hands reflexively reached out and placed themselves on the desk. His hands gripping the desk’s edge, his knuckles starting to turning white.

Bruce was trying to keep his composure and not make it look like the actions were affecting him, but it wasn’t exactly working. He tried and failed to ignore the feeling of your legs on either side of him, your thighs were practically against his hips. “And why would that be?”

You looked into his eyes and gently traced your fingers over his tie. Being able to smell his faint scent and the smell of coffee just now from such a close distance which makes your heart move. “Because you know how to taste it.”

Bruce’s breath hitches as you looked into his eyes, your fingers tracing over his tie. He was intensely aware of how close both of you, he could practically feel the warmth of your breath on his face. Your words, the simple comment of a double meaning sent a rush of heat through him. He could feel his heart thump in his chest.

Bruce moved his right hand and placed it on your thigh, letting it rest there. He said, his gaze drifting to her lips. “And I know how to taste other things too…”

You tilted your head and looked innocently, but you knew his meaning when his gaze turned to your lips. You released his tie and holding his hand that’s on your thigh. “Sounds great. I wonder what you will do?”

Bruce’s grip on your thigh tightens slightly. He knew you’re playing innocent, and he was falling for it. He took a step forward, eliminating the distance between them and pressed his body against you. He placed his other hand on your hip, holding you in place.

He bent down a little, his lips only a few millimeters away. He could feel the heat rising in his chest and in the pit of his stomach. He said in a low voice, his breathing becoming a bit shallow. “I have few ideas…”

You chuckled at him “Must be a great idea.”

His voice was still in a low tone, he was still staring into your eyes. He could feel that he was already getting aroused, your proximity and the scent of skin weren’t helping. He brought his hand from your hip up to chin, tilting your head up slightly. His gaze falling on your lips. “Should I show you a sample?”

You turned your head and looked at the clock. There were still thirty minutes left before his meeting. You didn't want to waste it. You grabbed his hand and moved it to your inner thigh to tease him. “Time is of the essence, don't waste it.”

He still has at least half an hour to kill before he needed to be in the conference room for a meeting. As good as that idea sounded, he wouldn’t be able to fully express it without being late. He looked back down at you as you moved his hand to your inner thigh, his breath hitched as he felt the smoothness of your skin under his hand. “Oh don’t worry… I don’t have any intentions of wasting time.”

All it took was a few simple words on part, the little self-control that was left inside of Bruce was gone. A primal part of his brain had taken over. As soon as he finished speaking, he squatted down and spread wide open your legs to accommodate his body.

Without giving you a chance, he pulled your panties down and buried his face under your skirt, licking your clitoris with his tongue to taste you. You felt a rush of passion, the part he licked was constantly rubbed by his tongue, as if he was sucking you in hungrily. You grabbed his shoulders, your body trembled continuously, you straightened your waist and tilted your head upwards to moan.

When the two of you were busy, the phone on his desk suddenly rang, interrupting both of your enjoyment. You turned your head saw it was from Lucius Fox, which must be the preparation for the meeting. You stopped him from licking, but he ignored it and indulged in it. With no other options left, you clutched his clothes tightly, stifling your own moans, and forced yourself answered his call for him.

“H-Hey Mr Lucius…how can I help you…?” You answer the phone, your voice slightly shaky as you clutched onto Bruce as he continued. You said, but mentally cursing at Bruce because he’s not stopping what’s he’s doing right now! You tried your best to make your voice sound normal, keeping back a moan as you felt Bruce’s tongue run over your sensitive parts.

On the other end of the phone, Lucius had expected to speak to Bruce, but instead was met with your voice. Not knowing the situation, completely unaware of what was happening on the other side of the phone call, continued on. “Hey smart girl, is Bruce there with you? I need to quickly talk with him for a second about something important, is he available?”

Bruce, who was kneeling under the desk, didn’t even think about what it looked like on the other end of the phone call. He continued licking, enjoying the taste and texture. The moment you reached climax, you were about to moan loudly out but you can’t, you clutching his clothes tightly almost to ripping it to suppress the feeling.

You poked Bruce's head to hint that Lucius wanted to talk to him. Unexpectedly, Bruce looked up for a moment, silently communicating to you that he wanted you to speak for him.While he had never asked anything like this before, you had to admit that in your hazy mind it was actually quite funny in a messed up way.

How would Lucius feel to know his boss was between his personal assistant’s legs? However, he wasn’t going to stop what he was doing and you were forced to act as his mouth piece in the meantime. In this sneaky situation, you suddenly have a funny idea to make fun of Bruce. You suppress yourself and continue to talk to Lucius in phone while clutching his clothes tightly. “He is currently busy... Busy doing bad things..”

As you were forced to speak on behalf of your boss, holding back the moans and pleasure he was giving you. Lucius’s voice from the other end of the phone call went silent for a second before he spoke again. He asked, sounding a little confused but concerned. “Ummm… care to elaborate on that..?”

Meanwhile, Bruce looked up at you, his eyes narrowing when he heard you say ‘busy doing bad things.’ He got what you were doing and was slightly annoyed by it. Especially in this kind of situation, he'll keep you company with your naughty ideas , so he decided to punish you by biting your thighs.

A sudden tingling sensation increases the pleasure of your desire. You tilt your head back and your climax explodes once again. You clutched the phone harder than ever to hold yourself back. “He messed up the files....now I have to help him with it....”

Bruce’s ears twitched as he heard you speak. It was a clear that your voice was shaking a lot, clearly an effect of him and what he was doing. The comment you gave in response to Lucius gave him a hint that you were trying to play a game of your own, and it was clear that you were having a hard time getting your words out without sounding too obvious.

He felt a sense of satisfaction as he heard you struggle to speak. He decided that it was time to increase the torture a little. Suddenly, you felt a surge of excitement came over, his fingers tracing outside your sensitive parts.

Seeing the effects that his actions had on you, and hearing how hard it was for you to speak without letting anything slip to Lucius on the phone, Bruce smirked. He knew that he had you exactly where he wanted you, right on the edge. He wasn’t satisfied though. Bruce wanted to listen to you get more riled up and he thought of a way to do exactly that.

Bruce’s hands moved from your inner thighs and started tracing his fingers up and down on your outer parts, the sensation felt even more heightened due to the anticipation. He was teasing you. You continued speaking into your phone, but the words were coming out more labored and breathless than usual.

“Smart girl, are you alright over there…?” Lucius’s voice broke the silence that was on the call, he could tell from your shaky voice and weird behaviour that something wasn’t quite right.

Meanwhile Bruce looked up at you as he ran his finger along your most sensitive part, he knew that you were getting desperate and was waiting for your next words. Until he put a finger inside you to play it, you coughed to cover up your orgasm. “I’m alright…just my throat is a bit itchy…”

When you started coughing and tried to cover it up, Bruce was a little bit surprised, he thought you would have been able to handle it a little longer. He felt his mouth twitch into a smirk when he heard what you said to Lucius. It was clear that you were lying, but he couldn’t help but find the whole situation slightly amusing.

As he saw you struggling to hold yourself back, Bruce decided to up the ante and added a second finger. You grit your teeth, want to hang up the phone in your hand and throw it into the trash can. Your boss enjoys this atmosphere. Seeing you messed up by him increases his desire and enthusiasm.

As soon as Bruce added a second finger it was almost too much to bear for you, it was becoming increasingly hard to hold yourself back without doing something obvious. Meanwhile, Lucius was still sitting on the other end of the phone, his voice filled with a hint of concern. “Are you sure you’re alright…?”

“Yes…I’ll drink more water…thanks for your concern.”Bruce continued to watch you struggle and trying to keep your cool for Lucius’s sake. He knew that you were at your limit and was trying to hold on for dear life. But he didn’t think that you could get much farther without accidentally slipping in the obvious truth.

He curled his fingers slightly inside of you, he couldn’t help but smirk and feel a little pride because your body reacted so passionately. You didn't expect you couldn’t suppress his fingers so great inside you that when he did this, you would squirt so much like a mess. The feeling of Bruce’s fingers curling inside of you was too much and you had to suppress a moan.

Bruce watched your reaction, his smirk deepening a little. He was thoroughly enjoy watching you struggle on the phone to Lucius, listening to you struggle to keep your moans down so that Lucius didn’t catch on. Meanwhile, Lucius on the other end of the phone was getting a little suspicious. “You sound strange over the phone. You sure you’re alright? Should I come and check on you..?”

“Huh?! Um…nonono…don’t worry about it….”When you suddenly squirted on his fingers, Bruce was a little stunned by the sudden amount. He was only going to cause you a little more discomfort and make you try even harder to act normal.

You clutched the phone and his shirts tightly to suppress your feelings was about exposing out. He raised an eyebrow slightly in shock, slightly surprised at what you did. He could hear you desperately trying to stop any moans from being heard at the other end of the phone.

“Are you sure…?” Lucius asked again, getting more suspicious, especially your voice and breath. Lucius sounding like he was seconds away from getting up from his chair and heading over to check on you two.

You heard the sound of moving chair, sounds like Lucius was about stand up from his chair over the phone, and you tensed. For a moment you are distracted, you felt something hot rubbing against your entrance, it was Bruce.

His hot dick rubs against your entrance. He pushed you down to his desk, his face was smirked like he’s enjoying this moment. You swallow your saliva, do your best blurting out something to stopped Lucius leaving his office. “Mr Lucius, I’m really fine…Bruce and I still sorted out the meeting documents…”

As soon as you blurted that Bruce and you were working on the documents for the meeting, Lucius paused for a moment before speaking, thinking.“Alright fine… but don’t forget the meeting is in a few minutes.”

He slowly pushes forward his dick into yours, his waist begins to hit your hips roughly like his hunger reaches the limit, secreting hormones in your body. You lean your head back and grab his tie to calm your nerves. “Alright, see you later…Mr Lucius…”

When you spoke again, you tried to sound as normal as you possibly could, but it was clear that you were struggling. You tried to remain composed and calm as you spoke, but your mind was still in a haze from his actions. Lucius said, sounding a little reluctant, but still convinced. “I’ll see you in the meeting. Bye.”

When you heard Lucius hang up, you finally let go of all your worries. You put the phone aside and finally got back to work with your boss. You straddled your legs around his waist feeling his dick inside your body so deep and hot. “You bastard…”

All your worries and troubles vanished as soon as you heard Lucius hang up. With no one on the other end of the phone, you no longer had to worry about trying to hide yourself from him. He asked, pretending to be innocent, even though you both knew exactly what he did. “Me? What did I do that was so bad..?”

He fucks you over and over again without stopping, and the two of you enjoy the atmosphere and the pleasure brought by this little game. He was very fast, and the sensitive spots in your body were constantly poked, causing you to climax repeatedly, as if he knew where your weaknesses were. “You…know…if others knew about this…Bruce Wayne under his personal assistant’s skirt…that would be so funny…”

Every thrust felt like magic, as if he knew every single thing you wanted and needed. He knew exactly how to make you feel good. He smirked and looked at you as you mentioned that if others knew about what was happening under your skirt. “Oh yeah, it would be. Everyone would think that Bruce Wayne is so weak that he couldn’t even wait, is doing it in his office.”

The speed and intensity that he was moving, was incredible. It felt like he was possessed. “And they would think that he is such a bad boss that he doesn’t care about work, he just wants to do something else.”

He lifts your left leg hook it over his shoulder. His lips pass over every part of your left leg and leave kiss marks. You can feel a strong possessive breath coming from him. His movements are bigger and rougher without holding himself. He fucks you too extremely, just like him wanted to messing you up.

“I’m sure lots of people wouldn’t be surprised though, they’d probably think that it’s typical for him to take his assistant instead of getting a girlfriend. After all, it’s a lot easier to screw when you’re right there at hand.” He whispered in your ears make you shiver.

You clutched the edge of his desk, unable to close your mouth. Luckily his office was well soundproofed, otherwise the sounds of your moans, squirting, and thrusting would have spread throughout the building. “Oh…ah…Bruce…I’m again…”

The office was quiet, save for the sound of breathing and the occasional moan that he drew from you. But thanks the soundproofing, those sounds were firmly contained within the room, keeping them safe from anyone outside. “You’d better keep your voice down…unless you want someone to walk in and catch us.”

You enjoy the feeling of being possessed by him at this moment. You obey his orders, you grab his hand and put it to your mouth, you lick his thumb with your tongue and then gently bite it, the air from your mouth passes through his skin, you suppress your moaning desire. “Oh…Bruce…not fair to shut my mouth…Your office is obviously soundproof.”

Every time you licked his thumb and bit it slightly, he felt his skin tingle. It was like electricity was running down his spine every time your tongue touched him.

He smirked when heard you say that it was unfair for him to shut your mouth. He said with a cheeky grin.“I’m the boss, it’s my job to be unfair. But that doesn’t mean I want to listen to your loud moans…”

You squeeze his hot dick tightly inside yours and tease him to irritate him. You felt a burst of pain, but it ignited your desire to be abused. He’s kinda enjoying your naughty behavior in this intimate game.

He let out a low moan when you squeezed him inside, and it was getting a little harder to keep his cool and his voice down. He tried to keep his voice steady and even as he spoke. “You really are a little tease…don’t get so cocky, I’m your boss.”

Again. His rough hands slapped your peach-like buttocks, and gripping tightly until leaving red marks there. You squirt once more, the hot breath coming from the pain of his slapping your buttocks, he simply shows no mercy to you. “Ugh! Bruce!! More!”

He enjoyed the way you looked at him, in a mixture of pain and pleasure, mixed in with a hint of desperation. He liked seeing you like this, in pain, but also enjoying the whole situation. He gave your booty another rough slap, his hand making a sharp move.

Your pain-pleasure was delicious for him, it was like music, like a drug he couldn’t get enough of. He could tell that you were in some pain, but your body still craved him and wanted to feel more. His desire for you was too strong, he needed to release more of himself.

You bit his thumb and almost let out a moan, your breathing quickened. Your trembling voice aroused desire once again as his lust burned every part of your body. “More…push me more…my boss…”

He could see how close you were getting and he knew that you needed something to tip you over the edge. He was enjoying this, watching you and listening to your trembling voice. He teased and taunted you, wanting to draw as many helpless begging sounds out of you as he could. “Oh, begging for it already, are you? What a sweet girl you are, so craving me.”

“Ugh ah….I couldn’t hold it anymore!”When you finally give in to the sensation, the amount of squirting exceeded your expectations, and your loud moans were almost enough to break the soundproofing on the walls. You release his thumb from your mouth and cover your mouth to reduce the sound of your loud moans.

He’s surprised at the amount of your squirting. It’s quite an amount, but he seems to enjoy it, it’s like a boost of energy to him. He looked down at you, his eyes darkened and his smirked, enjoying the sight of you trying to cover your moans up. He placed his hand on top of your hand that covered your mouth, preventing you from muffling the sounds. “Shh…Not so loud, sweet girl. What a great scene I love.”

Your moans and the sound of you squirting filled the room, making it impossible to ignore what was happening. He gently caressed your hair, looking at you with a hint of satisfaction. His thing is surging inside you, it has reached its peak and is about to burst out inside you.

His body is tense, his breathing is laboured, he’s trying his best to contain himself, to hold on a little longer, but it’s getting difficult. He groans again, his body shaking slightly, like he’s fighting hard against an invisible force. He moans, “I…I…I need..”

You feel it’s hurting your buttocks, he gripped it so hardly to increased your pleasure because he reached the edge was about to exposed. The sweat, the passion, the breath, the satisfaction and the pain. You clutched him tightly and moan louder don’t care anymore. All of the sensations pushed both of you two reached the climax in the same time.

It was like a race, a race to see who could reach the edge first, but you both could tell that you were both close, so close to the moment when nothing else mattered but the two of you, and the pleasure that you shared. His body is on fire, the sweat is trickling down his skin, his breathing is desperate, like he’s trying to catch his breath and failing.

Your body was full of his marks, some were fading, but most of them were brand new. He’d made sure to cover you in them, to leave his mark all over you and make sure that others knew you were his. He can’t say anything, his office surrounded by pants and moans, every part of body tense as both of you struggles with pleasure.

He’s trying to hold on, to not let himself burst. He’s groaning like it’s taking all his strength to hold back. It’s becoming difficult for him to hold back, he’s panting and moaning. He can’t say anything, every part of his body is tense as he. His body is shaking, you feel he’s filling up with his sweet hot juice inside your body.

You panting trying to catch your breath from the excitement and extremely passionate moment with your boss. When he finally releases, he let out a deep guttural moan, like a mixture of relief and satisfaction. He’s trying to catch his breath, panting and sweaty. “That…that was amazing.”

You chuckle at him after he moved away from you. With your last stamina, you pushed yourself up to sitting on the desk, the desk is messing like hell. Both of you completely ignored what surroundings both of you and buried each other in intimate moments. “Wow…that was extremely rough time.”

He looked at you, laughing slightly as you pushed yourself up to sit on his desk, your body still recovering from the activities.He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the messy desk, it was a clear indication of what had just happened between the two of you. He said, panting slightly. “Yeah, it was. Didn’t expect us to get so… rough.”

He continued looking at you, taking in the sight of your body covered in marks, the proof of what had just happened between the two of you. His body was still shaking slightly, his breath panting as he tried to regain his composure. “You’re…a naughty one.”

You pouted and swinging your legs playfully at him. You pulled him closer to his unbuttoned his suit jacket and pressed a red lipstick kiss mark inside his white shirt. You buttoned his suit jacket and whispered. “Because I’m your favorite assistant. So I’m allowed being naughty with you.”

He watched carefully as you buttoned his suit jacket, and didn’t protest once, letting you do as you please. When you whispered that you were his favorite assistant and allowed to be naughty with him, he smirked and nodded. “That’s true, you’re my favorite after all. But don’t get too carried away.”

You playfully pressed his cheek a kiss when both of you satisfied, then noticed the what time the clock showed. There are still ten minutes before the meeting time. You see that you are a little messy, you immediately get off from his desk and before you go to the bathroom to clean yourself up, especially your private parts. You winking at him. “Got to go, need to clean myself.”

He looked at the mess you left behind, with the slightly tousled desk and the chair. He let out a slight sigh and began fixing himself up a little, his tie, his hair, and his suit jacket. When he was done, he looked at the time. Ten minutes before the meeting.

The way the desk was messy, the way the room smelled, everything was a constant reminder of what had just happened between the two of you. He smirked, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction and excitement. He was the type of man to get off on taking control and having power over others, and having you as his assistant added an extra layer of excitement to it.

He adjusted his tie and fixed his hair, making sure he looked composed and presentable. It was important for him to maintain an air of professionalism, even though the two of you had just engaged in some rather unprofessional activities.

He took a moment to sit behind his desk and take a few deep breaths to compose himself. He still couldn’t believe what had just happened, but he was also feeling a sense of excitement and curiosity about how the rest of the day would play out.

After cleaning yourself, you notice that both your legs have his marks. You have no choice but to put on black semi sheer stockings to cover up the marks on your legs so that others won't ask you unnecessary questions. You leave the bathroom and pick up the meeting materials on his desk. “Shall we go? My favorite boss.”

He noticed the black semi sheer stockings that you had put on to cover up the marks left on your legs. It’s kinda seductive and sexy looking at them. A small smirk formed on his face as he knew exactly what you were covering up.He stood up from his desk and smoothed out his clothes, making sure he looked presentable. “We shall, my favorite assistant.”

He couldn’t help but let his gaze linger on you for a moment, appreciating the way the stockings fit you perfectly. He knew that he was the only one who would know what was under them, and the thought of that made him feel both possessive and intrigued. He stepped closer to you and put a hand on the small of your back to guide you towards the meeting room.

Both of you walked side by side down the corridor, your bodies close together. Both of you walked in the same pace in the corridor, both of you satisfied with each other passionately. You stole a glance at him and whispered. “Did you think future I have to cover my legs with stockings?”

He could feel your warmth beside him, he was secretly satisfied knowing that only he knew what was under those stockings. He chuckled slightly. He looked down at your legs covered in stockings and then back up at you. “Well... that depends on me. Do you think you’ll have to wear them again in the future?”

You look around to confirm that is no one is around the corridors. You pulled him closer and whispered in his ears and bitten his earlobe. “If you bite me and leave me marks again.”

He couldn’t help but shiver a little at the feeling of your breath on his skin. He smirked and leaned in closer to you, his voice low and playful. “If I leave more marks on you, you know I'll expect you to wear stockings again. I don't want anyone else to see what's mine, my favorite assistant.”

Both of you chuckled at each other. As you continued walking. He glanced at you again, appreciating the way the stockings accentuated your legs, and the thought of leaving more marks on you filled his mind with excitement. But for now, he had to focus on the meeting, despite the distractions of his very naughty little assistant.

Bonus Part

Over the next few weeks, a unspoken agreement had been established between the two of you. During work hours, you both maintained a professional and respectful attitude as boss and personal assistant, keeping your true feelings and relationship masked from your colleagues.

However, when the two of you were alone together, that professional facade melted away, replaced by a passionate and intense connection. Keeping your relationship a secret added a thrill and a sense of the forbidden to your connection.

One day, he had a sly idea in mind to spice things up a little bit. Without warning, he went out and bought a wireless sex toy, specifically a remote-controlled vibrator. With a devious smile, he put the vibrator in the box and then placed the box in the drawer of your desk. He then made his way to the office, and he had the remote control in his pocket.

As expected, you were surprised by the appearance of a mysterious box on your desk. After opening it, you found a wireless vibrator, with the control remote missing. You couldn’t help but feel a little puzzled and intrigued. Just then he appeared at your desk, a sly smile on his face. He leaned against the desk. “I see you found my little surprise.”

You held back your smile and looked at the little fun thing he gave you under the desk. This guy is adding to the fun of the little game between us. “So…what game you going to play this time?”

He gave you a wink and then pushed himself away from the desk, casually walking away, leaving you guessing what he had in store for you. “You know me. I like to keep things interesting. Let’s just say… I have a little plan. Just make sure you keep that thing.”

You chuckle at his back as he left your office, and took out the instruction manual to read. Put the toy in underwear and put it on to fit your sensitive parts. Then use the wireless remote control to control the intensity of the vibration to bringing the pleasure. The intensity levels range from low to high.

But then, you realized that there was no remote control in the box. Bruce must have it, which meant he would be the one controlling the intensity of the vibration. You couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and slight nervousness at the thought.

As you carefully placed the toy in your thong, you could feel a strong sense of excitement and anticipation building within you. The friction against your sensitive parts only served to heighten the sensation. You stand up and walk towards his office, the feeling of the toy against your body making every step feel pleasurable.

When you reach his office, you knock on his door and wait for his response, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. He looked up from his desk when he heard the knock on his door, he had been anticipating your arrival. He leaned back in his chair and called out. “Come in.”

He watched as you entered the room, closing the door behind you. A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he noticed the slight change in your gait. He sees you tapping on his desk, indicating that you have used the toy. He quickly cuts off his conversation and gives you a subtle nod, conveying that he got your message.

You stand nearby, maintaining a professional and focused demeanor, notebook in hand as you record the topics of the conversation. Suddenly, you feel a slight vibration in your thong, catching you off guard. You try your best to keep your composure, but the pleasure is undeniable.

He continues talking business, all the while discreetly adjusting the intensity of the vibration using the remote control. His eyes flicker up at you, a hint of amusement and control in his gaze. He keeps the vibration at a low, tantalizing level, wanting to draw it out and tease you further.

He can see your efforts to maintain a focused demeanor, but the small tells in your body language give away the pleasure you're feeling. He notices the slight flush in your cheeks, the clench of your thighs, the way your breath hitches ever so slightly.

You grip the pen tightly, trying to keep your focus on writing in the notebook as each time the vibration increases, your grip on the pen gets harder. He smirks at the way you're desperately trying to keep your cool, clearly enjoying the effect the toy is having on you. He keeps adjusting the intensity discreetly, watching as your hand trembles slightly with every increase in vibration.

He looks away from you to continue the conversation, but he keeps the vibration level as it is, enjoying the way you squirm and try to keep your voice steady. The continuous vibrations were starting to cause a new, noticeable effect on you. You were so focused on maintaining your composure that you hadn't realized how turned on you had become.

You were grateful that you had chosen to wear a black dress that day, because you could feel your wetness without even realizing it. The feeling was both pleasurable and maddening. He looks at you again, taking in your appearance. He can tell from the way you're standing that you're uncomfortable, but he just smirks and continues the conversation with the subordinate.

The sudden onslaught of the highest vibration setting was almost too much to bear. You had to do everything in your power to hold it together, biting your lip to keep from moaning out loud.

You quickly tried to distract yourself by coughing loudly, hoping that the people in the room would think you're just clearing your throat. "Ahem. Sorry, my throat is itchy…"

He looks at you, his smirk widening as he sees the effect the toy is having on you. He notices the way you bite your lip and cough to cover up any moans. He asks, feigning concern in his voice. "Are you okay? You look a little flushed."

You cleared your throat again, and kicked his chair under his desk. “Ahem, thanks for your concern, I’m good, just my throat a little itchy. Mr Bruce Wayne….”

He felt a wave of excitement wash over him. He knew that you were getting desperate, and he loved seeing you struggle to maintain your cool. When you spoke his name, he gave you a sly smile and continued his conversation like nothing was wrong. “I’m glad to hear that. Just let me know if you need anything."

You clutched the pen and notebook tightly. You stilled maintain your professional attitude in front of them. “If you say so, may I leave for a while? I need to use the bathroom.”

He looked at you with a nonchalant expression, as if the toy wasn't affecting you at all. He nodded. As you turned to leave, he casually increased the vibration level. As you were about to leave, the vibrations suddenly intensified, and you couldn't hold back the moan that escaped your lips.

“Kya!!!”You gasped and stumbled a little, catching yourself against the doorframe. You felt your knees buckle and your body trembled, the pleasure overwhelming you.The sudden increase in intensity was too much for you to handle and before you could even leave the room, a loud moan escaped your lips.

The sudden outburst immediately caught the attention of everyone in the room, including the subordinates. They looked at you with a surprised expression, while Bruce just smirked. He knew damn well that you were only using it as an excuse to cover up your actual reason for moaning.

You squatted awkwardly on the ground, feigning a pain in your heel caused by the high heels you were wearing, knowing that it was a weak excuse, but it was all you could think of in the moment. "Sorry. These heels just don't fit right."

He tried to hold back his smile as he watched you make up an excuse for your outburst. He could see the way you were trembling slightly, the flush in your cheeks, and the way your eyes were unfocused. He leaned back in his chair, trying to look casual and unbothered, but his mind was racing with all the things he wanted to do to you.

Meanwhile, the subordinate looked at you, a little worried. "Are you okay," he asked tentatively.

You stood up as quickly as possible, feeling the wetness that had already started to soak through your thong. You tried to maintain a professional expression and a charming smile as you thanked the subordinate for their concern. “Thanks for your concern, now I have to excuse myself.”

As you left the room, he leaned back in his chair and watched you go, his eyes fixed on your ass just a bit too long. He could see the way you were walking, slightly unsteady and squirmy, and he knew that the toy was still running at full blast.

The sight of you leaving the room, desperate to get some relief, was driving him wild. He shifted in his seat, trying to suppress the thoughts that were going through his mind.

After the meeting was finally over, Bruce dismissed the subordinate and sat back in his chair, his mind still preoccupied with thoughts of you. He leaned back in his chair and waited for you to return, wondering how you were holding up after the toy had been tormenting you for so long.

Thankfully you brought spare clothes with you, you returned to his office. When no one was around, you locked the door. You approached him, straddled his lap, and lifted his chin. “Such a naughty boss you are. You’re gonna make me squirt in front of others.”

His eyes roaming over your body. He let you lift his chin, tilting his head back to look at you better. He looked up at you with a sly smile. His hands moving to rest on your hips. “Can you blame me, though? You look absolutely gorgeous.”

You pouted acting like you angry and pressed a quick kiss on his lips. You asked him in playful tone. “Even I squirted in front of others?”

He chuckled at your playful pout, enjoying the way you tried to act mad. As you pressed a quick kiss on his lips, he couldn't help but smile. "Especially if you squir—“

He was cut off by a knock on the door, breaking the moment. He cursed under his breath, frustrated at the interruption. You chuckle at him especially when he makes that face, you tickling his chin with fingers and teasing him. “Aww, don’t be mad. Tonight my apartment. You still keep the key?”

He chuckled at your playful touch, enjoying the feeling of your fingers tickling his chin. When you mentioned your apartment and the key. He looked at you with a mischievous smile, his eyes flickering with desire. “Tonight, then. I'll be there.”

— The End —

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goosita · 1 year ago

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trying to work when you're sick as young!politician!snow's secretary would be hard, but not for the reason you might think

you've been sniffling since yesterday afternoon, but this morning when you woke up, you felt like you'd been hit by a train. every muscle in your body was sore, your throat hurt, your nose was running and you could tell you had at least a lowgrade fever. you glanced at your alarm clock next to your bed and groaned, seeing that you'd woken up just a little while before it was set to go off anyway.

you thought about calling in sick, but you've never done it before. were you supposed to call....coriolanus? directly? he was your only boss, you worked solely for him. but that thought made you feel even worse than your illness did. you knew that he had a busy day today full of meetings and work calls, and that you needed to be there to help organize his schedule. you couldn't stand the thought of disappointing him.

you sucked it up and took the hottest shower you could stand in efforts to clear your sinuses and stop the fever-induced chills wracking your body every few minutes. you knew coriolanus liked for you to look put-together in pretty dresses and heels, but today you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. you dressed in a loose blouse and pair of wide-leg trousers that felt comfortable enough, shoving your feet into flat shoes. good enough.

so now here you are, bundled in your sweater you keep at the office and trying hard to manifest that nobody will notice your red and raw nose or your watery eyes, least of all coriolanus. the wish goes ungranted, prayer unanswered as he strolls in and immediately stops and stares at you.

"what's wrong?" he asks.

"oh, um. just a little cold," you answer, voice nasally and much lower in pitch than normal. coriolanus frowns at you and shrugs his coat off, hanging it up and walking straight over to you to press the back of his hand to your forehead.

"you're burning up."

his lips turn down even further, not noticing the way you freeze at his sudden touch. coriolanus has been a lot more...touchy with you lately, but even still, this amount of concern is unexpected. his brows furrow at you, looking at you for a long moment. he carefully brushes your hair out of your face, looking over you and taking note of your outfit and general state. you can tell he notices that you've dressed much more comfortably than you usually would, and that your face is makeup-free and hair left at simply brushed through to undo any tangles.

"up," he tells you, gently lifting you out of your chair by your elbow.

"what?"

"let's get you home," he says gently, rubbing a warm and heavy hand up and down your back. "you're in no shape to be here today. i'll have my driver take you back to your apartment."

you look at him confused, unsure what to say. you're not sure if he's upset that you're sick or if he's more worried for your wellbeing, but it makes you anxious that he's acting so abrupt and unceremonious, almost as if you being sick is putting him on edge.

"coryo...?" you ask quietly. he freezes where he stands, having gone to grab your jacket off the coatrack. you watch as his entire demeanor softens.

"yes, miss y/n?"

you swallow hard, wincing at the pain it causes in your throat. "are...are you upset with me?"

coriolanus' eyebrows draw inward and upward at your question, quickly shaking his head.

"oh, no. no, of course not," he breathes, rushing over to help you slide into your coat. "i'm worried about you is all. i don't want you making yourself sicker by being here today, you're clearly very unwell. it's not your fault you're ill."

he carefully zips up your coat, grabbing his red scarf from the rack as well. before you can protest, he's draping it around your neck and tying it.

"for extra warmth," he explains. "it's freezing out there today."

the scarf is so soft where it's tucked beneath your chin, instantly adding more warmth where you need it. coriolanus gives you a tiny smile, lips closed but small dimple appearing at the corner of his mouth.

you're led to the car by him, his hand resting between your shoulder blades the entire time. coriolanus opens the car door for you to slide into the back seat, instructing his driver to take you home and make sure you get into your apartment safe and sound. his voice holds so much authority when he speaks to the driver, a deepness and sternness that's never present when he's addressing you.

by the time you reach your apartment and climb the steps up, there are several beautifully packaged boxes waiting for you at your door, as well as a single red, long-stemmed rose. you tilt your head and bring them inside, opening them one by one to find that coriolanus has had soup, bread, and medicine delivered to you. attached to the rose by a red satin ribbon is a note that simply reads:

"get well soon, darling"

#politician!coryo x secretary!reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coryo x you #coryo x reader #tbosbas #bosbas #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you

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yuikomorii · 2 months ago

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AYAYUI IDOL AU: Chapter 5

// I finally found the time and inspiration for this chapter! I’m not sure why, but I had the most fun writing this one so far. I think Ayato will make you laugh—at least, I hope so! I’ve already started ch.6, and from how things are shaping up, let’s just say it’s going to be... interesting. >:3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Ayato’s monologue

No, no, no… this can’t be happening!

There’s absolutely no way this girl is the same person, right? Tokyo is a massive city, full of people. What are the chances I’d run into her again? Statistically speaking, as Reiji would say, I should be in the clear!

And yet… the height, the voice— they’re similar. Way too similar. No, scratch that. It’s not just those things. It’s the mannerism too!

Ugh, this is bad. Really bad. If she recognizes me, I’m not just in trouble—I’m done for.

I can already imagine her running back to her friends, completely out of breath, being like:

"You girls will NOT believe what just happened. So, you know Ayato from SAKAMAKIS? Yeah, THE Ayato? Well, guess where I met him? At a private strip club! And he wasn’t even having a good time! The guy looked like he was about to pass out from drinking too much! I swear, I thought I was gonna have to call an ambulance. Or an exorcist. Maybe both. Hahaha!”

…And that’s how I’d end up on the news, with my career pretty much over.

Yui: Uuh… Are you alright? You’ve been spacing out a bit. Is the cut hurting you that bad?

Ayato: …!

( Okay, stay calm. I can’t let this show on my face and let her see how much this is stressing me out. )

( If I act like everything’s normal, she won’t remember me from that night. Yeah… she definitely won’t make that connection. )

Ah, yeah, no biggie. I’m just a little tired. Y’know, idols have quite messed up schedules, so it’s normal to get less than five hours of sleep.

Yui: Eh? Less than five hours? That’s…

I’m sorry to hear that. It must definitely be tough…

Ayato: I mean, sure, it sounds a bit insane, but it’s just part of the job. No worries~.

( Good, we’re having a normal conversation. Nothing’s too suspicious. )

Yui: If it helps, in case we win, you’ll have the chance to relax in the onsen!

Ayato: Heh, right!

( Now that she brought it up, spending a bit of time at an onsen sounds pretty good. A long, hot soak to just melt away the stress... mhm, that’s exactly what I need after this. )

Yui: I suppose Ayato-san doesn’t usually have time for that, no?

Ayato: Hmm… more or less. When we’re promoting in Japan, we have some hours off, so we can basically do whatever we want.

Yui: Is that so? But how do you deal with your fans then? I’m sure they would always be in your face wherever you go because they love you.

Ayato: That’s because I—

( Danger alert! If I say I go out in disguise, she might put two and two together! )

—I honestly don’t mind that. After all… I go with bodyguards! Yeah. Big, scary guys. You know, keeps the crowd at bay.

Yui: Ah, makes sense. I thought you sometimes spend time with fans too.

Ayato: ( Hah? Spend time with fans? What kind of fantasy land is she living in? Does she seriously think idols just go around hanging out with random fans like it’s some slice-of-life anime? )

( Is she really that dumb... or does she just know absolutely nothing about how being an idol actually works? )

Well… let’s just say that kind of thing isn’t exactly in the job description.

Yui: I see… However, would Ayato-san spend time with them if allowed?

Ayato: ( Tch… What’s up with this loaded question!?What am I even supposed to say— “Sure, let’s go grab boba tea sometime”? )

( This girl’s really pushing it... or maybe she’s just too lost in her own world. )

Ayato: Hmph, depends on the fan. If they’re not screaming in my face or trying to steal a lock of my hair so as to sell it for thousands later, maybe I’d consider it.

( Anyway, the hell’s this supposed to be? An interview? )

( Just focus on cooking, girl. Last time I checked, I wasn’t here for a therapy session. )

You ask a lot of questions, y’know that? Shouldn’t you be paying more attention to that pot over there before it explodes?

Yui: …! S-Sorry, I’ll fix it right now!

Ayato: ( Haa… this is gonna be a long day. )

Yui: Phew, luckily everything’s fine. Usually cooking is my strong point, but today I was careless… I apologize once again…

Ayato: Just don’t poison me and we’re good.

( Though honestly, if this keeps up, I might start envying whatever Subaru’s doing, even if it’s just sulking alone in a corner, while a girl cooks his part. )

Yui: Thank you for your understanding. You’re surprisingly really kind.

Ayato: Heh, “surprisingly”? What’s that supposed to mean? Do I look like some grumpy, unapproachable guy to you or what?

Yui: N-Not at all! It’s just that… when I think of idols, I imagine really hard-working people. I merely thought you’d all be very stressed out and not have much patience to deal with others.

Ayato: Well, you’re not totally wrong.

( She’s not as clueless as I thought. We are indeed overworked half the time and running on caffeine and pure ego the rest. )

Yeah, it’s not exactly a walk in the park. But hey, some of us still manage to be charming.

( Like me. Obviously. )

Yui: ( The truth is, based on my first impression, I thought he was cold. Everyone else kept saying he’s friendly off-stage, though. )

( But now… after he apologized and considering how our conversation’s been going, I really do believe he’s a good person too. )

I think that’s one of the reasons why fans love Ayato-san so much.

Ayato: Because I’m charming…?

Yui: Not only that. But despite your visuals and high status, you still don’t let fame get to your head. You’re able to converse with people casually, as if we were on the same level as you.

Ayato: …Huh.

( Okay, now she’s making me sound like some kind of saint. But, I guess it’s just better to give her a cheesy idol-like reply. )

Ayato: I mean, gotta stay grounded, right? Fans are the reason I even have the spotlight in the first place.

Yui: That’s true, but I also think it’s because of your talent.

Ayato: ( Talent, hm? She must’ve actually paid attention to the MVs and stages to say that. If she hadn’t, she’d most likely be commenting on my looks like most people do. )

Of course~!

( However, I admit that sometimes it’s nice to hear someone notice that instead of what’s on the surface. )

Yui: ( After all, Ayato-san is exactly how Hana-san described him. )

( Wait—! Hana-san! The autograph! How could I almost forget about that!? )

Yui: So… since the food’s almost ready, do you mind if I ask you something? Just a small favor.

Ayato: ( You‘ve been asking me countless things anyway, so it wouldn’t make any difference. )

Fine, go ahead.

( She’s looking at me with puppy eyes… this better not be something like “can you say hi to my hamster” or whatever girls ask on fan calls these days. )

Yui: Could you please sign this napkin?

— hands it to him —

I know a piece of paper would’ve made way more sense, but I just remembered that a co-worker of mine, who really admires you, couldn’t be here today…

That’s why, I was wondering if you’d be willing to give her an autograph? Her name is Hana.

Ayato: ( Well, it’s definitely not the weirdest thing I’ve signed. At least it’s not a bra this time. )

Alright. Can’t have your friend crying at work over a missed chance to meet the Great Ayato, right~?

— signs it —

Here you go.

Yui: Woah, thank you, Ayato-san! Thank you so much!

Ayato: Heh, no need to get all dramatic. It’s just a napkin.

Make sure she knows it’s a one-of-a-kind, limited edition autograph, okay? I don’t usually sign tableware.

— Yui giggles —

Ayato: Now… is the takoyaki done too?

Yui: Yup! That one was easy to make after—

Ayato: Gimme! Gimme!

Yui: Eh?

( His eyes just lit up like a kid at a festival…! Does he love takoyaki that much?)

Ayato: What? Don’t just stare! Hurry up and let me give it a taste check!

Yui: Fufu, sure thing.

— places the plate in front of him —

I think they came out a bit crunchy instead of the usual soft texture, so if they aren’t yummy, I can try to—

Ayato: Shh! No more talking. Let me enjoy this moment.

— starts eating —

…!

Yui: ( He looks… shocked? Did I really mess up that badly?)

— Ayato stops chewing —

Ayato: Okay, these… these are actually good. Like, dangerously good!

( Crunchy or not, this flavor’s legit. Did she secretly get trained by some takoyaki master in Osaka or what!? )

Seriously, have you never thought of opening your own takoyaki stand? I’d be your number one customer, no question!

— grabs another one with zero hesitation —

But no raising the price just ‘cause I’m famous, got it?

Yui: ( Wah—! He’s patting my head…! )

( Getting praised like this… it’s making my heart beat so fast for some reason. )

I-I’m glad you like them, Ayato-san! But, uhm… you shouldn’t eat them all. They’re for the contest, remember?

Ayato: Just one more~

Yui: ( Fufu, he’s acting like a child again... )

( Even got crumbs around his mouth like one, but he doesn’t seem to notice. )

— gets closer and starts wiping the crumbs off his mouth gently —

Ayato: …?

( What the hell is she doing? )

Oi, what’s up? Are you cleaning me up like some kind of child?

Yui: ( Oh no! I think he’s mad! )

S-Sorry!

— tries to move away quickly —

Ayato: Haa…

— grabs her arm and pulls her back —

I didn’t say it bothered me, did I?

Go on. If you're going to do it, you might as well finish.

Yui: ( He doesn’t mind it at all…? To think that an idol such as himself would let an ordinary person touch him like that… )

( But now that I’m so close… I can see how small his truly face is. It’s almost like it could fit right in my hand, even if he’s a boy… )

— suddenly touches his cheek—

Ayato: ( I don’t feel any crumbs there though. )

Yui: ( His skin is so smooth... way softer than I imagined. His entire face is so delicate too, almost unreal. )

Ayato: Are you done checking me out now? Or should I start charging you for the VIP experience, since you’re getting a bit too personal with me?

— chuckles —

Yui: ( W-Wait! What on earth am I doing!? )

I-I wasn’t checking you out! I was just... trying to clean your cheek! That’s all!

— pulls her hand away —

I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean to cross your boundaries!

Ayato: Relax, relax. It’s not like you’re the first one to stare. But… you’re still the first one to get this close without permission~

Yui: ( Uhh... this is so embarrassing! What even got into me!? )

( To make matters worse, there’s something about his words that’s making my heart race even faster than before...! )

( I wonder if he can hear it, the way it’s pounding... )

Ayato: You know...—

*Knock Knock*

Chief: Excuse me, but we’ve got a problem!

#diabolik lovers #yui komori #ayato sakamaki #dialovers #ayato x yui #ayayui #admin #my fanfic

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sincere1ystar · 4 months ago

Text

Loved You First

rafe cameron x fem! reader | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 3

Two years ago, Rafe left the island without saying a word. Unknowingly to him, you were pregnant all along. When he finally comes back, he’s desperate to get you back not knowing it’s more complicated than it seems.

𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍

You’ve always daydreamed about the different situations that would have occurred if Rafe ever came back when he first left you. While Julie was napping you would constantly imagine what would happen if Rafe just walked through the door that moment. But that was before of course, before you managed to construct a heart of steel.

It was different now that he actually was here. You pushed those feelings to the side, yet Rafe still managed to be a presence in your life. He constantly comes by the diner and even started to repair things at the house. You never noticed the paint peeling off the walls until you came home to Rafe with a paint roller in one hand and balancing Julie on his hip with the other.

You didn’t trust Rafe completely, but you couldn’t deny he was a good father to Julie. Which was your reasoning on why you allowed him watch Julie while you work at the diner more often. Your little girl wouldn’t know him as the guy who left without saying a word, and you were thankful for that at the very least.

The days at the diner were long and tedious. And today was like no other, taking orders and cleaning tables. “Welcome!! What can I get started for you today?”, you say pulling your notepad out ready to take the order.

The man takes a moment to recite his order, sitting at the booth looking over at you admiringly. “I’ll just take a soda and fries”.

“Of course!! Well that be all?”, you ask slipping your notepad and pen back into your pocket.

The man nods in response before chuckling under his breath. “So I never got your name”.

“Well it wasn’t exactly on the menu now was it?”, you reply cheekily. Normally you just smile and walk away when customers tried to flirt with you, but this time you engaged. Anything to get your mind off of Rafe and his return back into your life.

“Think I might start becoming a regular around these parts. My name is Logan, you work here often?”, he asks with his hand out for you to shake.

You smile while shaking his hand. “I work here full-time yes, but not every day”.

Logan gasps dramatically which earns a giggle from you. “Not everyday huh… How about tomorrow? You working then?”

“Tomorrow?.. I’ll be off why?”, you ask knowing exactly where this was going.

“I’d like to take you out tomorrow, maybe we could go out to dinner?”

Normally you reject dates, not being fond of the change it brought to your everyday schedule. But with Rafe back in your life, change seemed to be surrounding you constantly. Plus there wasn’t anything wrong with putting yourself out there, you were sure Rafe had no trouble moving on after he left you.

When you make your way back home, your daughter Julie doesn’t run up to greet you like she always does. Instead she’s snuggled up against Rafe as he re-enacts a story with her dolls. The little girl laughs at his humorous attempts to make her doll dance and when she sees you her giggles turn into full blown out laughter. “Mama!!! Mama you see dolly and papa!!”, she says in between giggles.

You smile and ruffle her hair in response. Even though Julie was little, that didn’t stop her from being sunshine personified. The gentleness Julie brought out in you would never bleed into the coldness you forced yourself to have with Rafe. Still, that didn’t stop him from trying to mend the heartstrings he broke.

“How was your day? Was work good?”, he asks despite hating the fact that you had to work at that diner. If you would just let your walls down and alllow him support you financially, you wouldn’t have to spend your days cleaning tables and serving food.

“It was good”, you say abruptly. “Would you mind watching my daughter tomorrow night too?”

“Our daughter”, Rafe corrected. He hated the formal tone you now had with him. You used to be so free around him. There wasn’t a secret your lips held from him, and now here you were speaking to him as if he was just some sort of house guest. “Yeah I can watch Jules tomorrow no problem, though I thought you had the day off?”

“I do, actually I’m going on a date”, you called out from your closet. Rummaging through your clothes to decide what to wear for tomorrow seemed like a good distraction from answering Rafe’s questions.

“…A date?”, Rafe grimaces while Julie giggles at his expression.

“Yes a date!!”, you exclaim excitedly as you take one of your dresses off the racks. You couldn’t help but break that emotionless demeanor you forced yourself to embody in Rafe’s presence, you were just too excited. It was two whole years since you’ve been taken out after all.

Rafe was happy to finally see that smile he desperately missed, but it wasn’t supposed to be like this. Yes he wanted you smiling, but not over another man. Would it be selfish of him to say he wanted your cheery nature all to himself? The sunshine Rafe saw in his daughter came directly from you, he had no doubt about it.

The next evening Rafe’s at your door earlier than you expected him to, Julie jumping into his arms to greet him. He laughs as he struggles to lift his head up from the ground after Julie’s surprise hug attack. Although, he had no problem lifting his head up from the ground to see you come out in your dress.

“Beautiful”, Rafe mutters under his breath not realizing he voiced his thoughts aloud.

Luckily for him, you were too busy accessorizing and adding the final touches to your look to notice what he said. He knew you tended to zone out when you were focused, yet your attention was summoned as soon as your date knocked at the door.

“Logan!!”, you gushed as you welcomed him in. “I’m so sorry for holding up I’ll be out in a minute”.

“Take your time”, Logan assured while giving a wave to Julie. Your daughter doesn’t wave back like she usually does and just hides behind her father, which earns a smug grin from Rafe.

Of course he didn’t want you to go out with Logan, but Rafe was glad that you left before his jealousy started to bleed into his words and actions. Julie slowly toddles towards him with her arms stretched out mumbling something that resembled “Up!!! Up!!”

“That guy doesn’t deserve your mama”, Rafe mutters under his breath as he picks up the little girl, “Luke, Leo whatever his name was”. He didn’t realize that he expressed his distastes aloud until the sound of Julie’s giggles rang through this ears.

“What?”, he asks quaintly as if his little girl wasn’t only one year and a half and fully understood the situation. “I’m right aren’t I? Oh forget it you’ll understand it one day when you’re older”.

If you heard Rafe’s words you would have to agree, Logan didn’t deserve you. Not in the sense that you were too good for him, but because of your own insecurities surrounding relationships. You looked perfect on the outside, but doubt started to overflow your insides. You were determined not to let that show as you walked into the restraunt with Logan by your side.

The date wasn’t anything special, but then again it was your first one in two years. It followed normal routine, you sat across from each other at the table and took bites from each other’s meals. Logan was a gentleman, holding doors for you and walking you home. It reminded you of the dates you used to go on with Rafe before he left.

You noted that there probably wouldn’t be a second date with Logan as he walked you home. Sure you enjoyed your time and had fun, but that would be the end of it. Your life was too complicated with Rafe back in it, and something told you bringing Logan would do more harm than good.

“I hope tonight wasn’t too much”, Logan speaks breaking you out of your thoughts.

“No not at all!”, you counterfeit, “I had fun”. God how were you supposed to explain that there was no chance that you were doing this again.

As the two of you get closer to your house, Logan reaches out to take your hand, which you skillfully avoid. Maybe that way he’ll take the hint. You liked him, you really did, but your fear of abandonment was greater than your attraction. Was any man going to love you once he truely got to know you? Rafe once knew you, he truely did. You could be water running through his hands and he would still find a way to hold onto you. He knew every crack and every painted on surface and still left. It wouldn’t be long before Logan would slowly find your shattered pieces leave once he put them back together.

You’re about to break the news when he drops you off at your door. Logan was painfully unaware of the way you held your face from twisting on the walk back to your home. You didn’t want this, you just wanted to be loved for once. You just wanted a chance at a normal love, one that was filled with innocent kisses and whispered reassurances instead of a fiery love and explosive arguments.

“Logan..”, you start slowly with his hands holding yours while the two of you stand at your doorstep. You had to go through with this, it would be for the better.

It was supposed to be easy since the two of you were alone among yourselves. Easy. No one would have to see the heartbreak on his face or witness the cruel words spitting out of your mouth. But of course it had to be more complicated than that, of course you had to catch Rafe peaking through the window while playing with your daughter, pretending as if he was never looking to begin with.

Was he jealous? Here he was trying to win you back, just for you to run into the arms of another man. Unknowingly to Rafe, the only arms you wanted to be held by was his. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction, not after he abandoned you without a word.

“I had fun tonight..”, Logan mutters with smile playing at his lips. “Maybe we should do this another ti-”, he’s interrupted by you pushing your lips onto his.

You didn’t do it out of love, you knew Rafe was watching. Any other version of yourself would seem this as wrong, but now you were too hurt with ache oozing out of you to care.

“I’ll take that as a yes for next time then?”, Logan chuckes which earns an absent minded smile from you.

Rafe was still by the window, not even attempting to hide the fact he was staring anymore while holding a sleeping Julie in his arms. Other than discovering the existence of his daughter, it looks like there was no point of him coming back to the island. What did he expect? It wasn’t like you were gonna embrace him back after he left without notice for two years with a baby, a baby he didn’t know existed but still placing a major responsibility meant for two on your shoulders nonetheless. He was too late, you had moved on and it was over for good. Julie woke up from her nap, looking up at him with those eyes that were blue like his but big and doe-like like yours , Rafe couldn’t help but note that her face was now the only place the two of you would be eternally together.

｡ﾟ•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈୨♡୧┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈• ｡ﾟ

TAGLIST ♡ : @my-name-is-baby @fallout-girl219 @cherrygirl1229 @maybankslover @kulekehe @positivelyinlovewithjungwon @angvl3tears @kundaquarius @eringaitskill @divxnee @starkeycore @snowtargaryen @rorawinters @emmaaas-posts @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @faephoria @mega-kittyglitter-1 @addzlibs @evelynffics @h3arts4harry @leftmakercherryblossom @rafegf-real @outerbankspov @f4irywor1d @mariayjws5

#rafe x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #outerbanks rafe #obx #outer banks fic #rafe outer banks #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe obx #loved you first series ♡

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steddieonbigboy · 11 months ago

Text

Stuff and Things

written for @steddiemicrofic june prompt 'stuff' wc: 483 | rated: G | cw: none | read on ao3

🦝🦝🦝

It's an enlightening phone call from Wayne that makes Steve drive over to the trailer park to see Eddie. It's not uncommon with their work schedules that they can go a few days without hearing from each other, so Steve didn't think anything of it until Wayne called.

It takes almost five minutes from his knock for Eddie to answer the door looking frazzled and breathing heavily.

“Stevie?”

“Hey, baby! I’ve not seen you in a couple of days, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, all good,” Eddie's eyes dart shiftily to his bedroom door and back, “Sorry, I've been kinda busy with stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“A-and things!”

“Oh yeah? What kind of stuff and things?”

“You know just, uh, the normal kind of, um, stuff.”

“And things?”

“Yup, that too!”

“Uh-huh.”

Steve just raises an eyebrow, hands on his hips, and watches as Eddie visibly wilts and sighs.

“Did Wayne rat me out?”

“He said you were acting the same kinda shifty as when you snuck a flea-ridden kitten into your closet as a kid, and now it's my turn.”

“Goddammit. Can't get anything past that old man.”

“Well, duh, you're the least subtle person I've ever met.”

“Hey!”

“You can't be mad if it's true, dude.”

“Fucking yes, I can!” Eddie huffs then waves Steve in, “Anyway, since you know now you might as well come meet, uh, stuff and things.”

Nothing stands out as weird to Steve when he glances around Eddie's room. He's about to think Wayne was wrong, when all of a sudden a tiny black snuffling nose pokes out of the pile of blankets on the bed, quickly followed by a second. Eddie hurries over to them as they start to chirp and gently strokes a thumb around each of their masked eyes.

“It's okay, my babies! I'm back, don't cry!”

“Eddie.”

“Yeah?”

“Are they fucking raccoons?”

“Yeah!” Eddie grins, and scoops one of the little pups up, “Wanna hold him?”

“Uh...”

“So, this lil guy is called Stuff,” Eddie rocks the raccoon in his arms and nods to the other, still tangled up in blankets, “And that's his brother, Things.”

Things chirps and reaches grabby little hands out at Steve.

“See!” Eddie laughs, “He wants you to pick him up!”

Steve has never held a baby raccoon before but it turns out it's not too different from holding a human baby, if a little furrier.

“Hang on a minute,” Eddie frowns suddenly, “What did you mean before when you said it's your turn?”

“Oh, Wayne said he's had long enough to 'deal with your stupid' so he deserves a break, and this is what I get for dating someone who 'ain't got the sense God gave a goose.'”

“Fuckin' rude.”

“You're literally hiding baby raccoons in your bedroom, Eds.”

“But look how cute they are!”

“Yeah, they're cute but they better not have fucking rabies, Robin will kill you.”

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #stranger things #steddie fic #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficjune #bigboywrites #mine

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cheriecelestial · 2 months ago

Text

Fitoor Pt.II

pairing *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Yandere! Batboys x fem! Desi!reader

disclaimer *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ swearing. fluff. crack.

a/n *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Okay so this did take a lot longer than it should've. Sorry abt that. And like always Comment, Reblog and Like (☆≧▽^) Also credit to my co-writer/beta reader @swamiiyasssss ilysm🤍🤍

╰ ┈➤ ·:*:·゜Chapter list Pt.I Pt.III

Y/N wanted to crawl into her own skin. She felt exposed, like he’d been playing some elaborate game she hadn’t even realized she was a part of. But she refused to let him see how much it rattled her. She straightened her shoulders, forcing herself to meet his eyes.

“Y’know,” he continued in that cool, quiet drawl, “When I saw your name as a short-listed candidate, I really felt Luke was slipping off his game.”

Y/N’s jaw tightened, but she refused to let him see how much his words stung. She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. “And yet, here I am. Funny how that works.”

Tim’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it grew wider, like he was enjoying this little back-and-forth far too much. “You said I wanted something.”

“No, I asked if you wanted anything,” Y/N snapped back, her patience wearing thin. “In case you—”

“I what? Leak your little outburst to the board of directors? Please.” He rolled his eyes. “They have corporate profits and stocks to worry about, let alone Little Miss Perfect here with her stellar portfolio and even more stellar workplace professionalism.”

Y/N grabbed the opportunity to gain the upper hand—or at least feel like she had it. “So you think my portfolio’s ‘stellar’?”

That seemed to catch him off guard, but in his usual infuriating manner, he swiftly countered. “Luke does. I think it’s… decent.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, refusing to back down. “ That’s high praise coming from you.”

Tim leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. His eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, the smirk faded, replaced by something almost serious. “Don’t let it go to your head sweetheart. You’re here because you’re just that, decent, not because you’re the best.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, but she forced herself to stay calm. “And yet you’re the one who wanted me to work directly with you. So, what does that say about your standards?”

Tim’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, but he recovered quickly. “It says I’m willing to take a chance on someone who might—might—have potential. Don’t make me regret it.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her resolve hardening. “I won’t. But if you’re going to make this difficult, just know I’m not backing down.”

Tim leaned back in his chair, his smirk returning. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”

The tension in the room was palpable, but Y/N refused to break eye contact. She wasn’t going to let him win this little power play. Not now, not ever.

“Because, miss L/N,” She despised the way her name rolled off his tongue so naturally. “I have finally decided what I want.”

Tim put the tips of his fingers together as if in preparation to say something of great importance. “Since you’re an intern—and let’s be honest, grad school interns don’t really do much—I’ve decided to give you a… unique role.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of role?”

“You’ll be my on-field secretary,” he said, his tone casual, as if he were discussing the weather. “You’ll handle basic tasks—scheduling, note-taking, that kind of thing. The heavy lifting will still be done by my actual secretary, who prefers to stay in the office. But the rest of the time, you’ll have a free pass to work with the teams on high-profile projects. The kind of work you really want to do.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. Working on high-profile projects was exactly what she’d been hoping for, but she knew her lack of experience would normally keep her far away from those opportunities. This was a chance to prove herself and to really see what it was like.

But then his words sank in. On-field secretary? Basic tasks?

“So, let me get this straight,” she said, crossing her arms. “You’re giving me the chance to work on high-profile projects, but only if I play secretary for you part-time?”

“That’s the gist of it. Unless…” He paused, tilting his head as if considering her. “You think yourself above it? That attitude of yours sure screams something.”

Y/N’s jaw tightened, her patience wearing thin. “I’m just trying to understand why you’re offering me this… arrangement.”

Tim shrugged, his tone dripping with mock innocence. “Call it a gesture of goodwill. Or maybe I just like keeping an eye on you. Either way, it’s a win-win. You get to work on the projects you’re dying to be a part of, and I get… Well, let’s just say I get to keep things interesting.”

Y/N glared at him, her mind racing. On one hand, this was an incredible opportunity. On the other, it meant spending more time with him.

“Fine,” she said finally, her tone clipped. “But if you think I’m going to be your glorified errand girl, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Tim barked a laugh, the sound rich and infuriating. “I have a professional secretary for that. You’ll just be… my shadow. Think of it as a learning experience.”

“Oh, fantastic,” she muttered under her breath, “A front-row seat to your unparalleled genius.” She wasn’t usually this brazen, especially with authority figures, but between his age and his insufferable personality, she couldn’t bring herself to take him seriously—professionalism be damned.

Tim’s grin didn’t falter in the least and grew wider, like he was enjoying her frustration far too much. “Also, since I’m your boss, you are now to refer to me as sir. Is that clear, Miss Secretary?”

Y/N's hands clenched at her sides. “Yes…” Her voice came out strained, and the next words even more so. “...Sir.”

Tim’s smile was triumphant, his voice almost giddy as he sank back in his chair. “Good. Now off you go. My other secretary is at the desk. She’ll brief you on your new duties.”

Y/N turned on her heel and walked out of the room, a bitter taste in her mouth. This was so not how she’d planned for anything to go. She wanted to run as far away from him and this situation as possible, but she knew she couldn’t. This was her chance—her big break—and she wasn’t about to let this son of a bitch ruin it for her.

Y/N made her way to the secretary’s desk, her jaw still clenched and her pride still stinging. The secretary, Margaret Hayes, was a no-nonsense woman in her late thirties with sharp eyes and an even sharper demeanor. She looked up as Y/N approached, her expression a mix of curiosity and mild sympathy.

“You must be Y/N,” Margaret said, her tone brisk but not unkind. “Mr. Drake-Wayne said you’d be joining us. Have a seat.”

Y/N sat down, forcing a polite smile. “Yes, I’m supposed to be… shadowing you, I guess?”

Margaret nodded, sliding a tablet across the desk. “You’ll be handling some of Mr. Drake-Wayne’s on-field tasks—scheduling, note-taking, managing his calendar during site visits, that sort of thing. I’ll walk you through the basics.”

Y/N picked up the tablet, her stomach sinking as Margaret began explaining the intricacies of Tim’s schedule. There were color-coded calendars, priority levels, and a seemingly endless list of protocols for how to handle everything from last-minute meeting changes to his very specific coffee preferences, something she was more than familiar with.

Noticing her eyes linger on the coffee order, Margaret spoke up. “Mr. Drake-Wayne is… particular. If you’re on-site with him and he requests coffee, you must know exactly how he takes it and where to get it. He insists it comes from a small backwater café called Sip and Savour and apparently, there’s only one barista who makes it just right.”

Y/N swallowed hard, recognizing exactly who the barista in question was. “I think I know who that is. Pretty sure that barista quit. I’m a regular there,” she lied smoothly.

Margaret gave her a scrutinizing look before responding dryly, “I see. I’ll inform Mr. Drake-Wayne and find out how he wants to proceed.”

As Margaret scrolled through the tablet with practiced efficiency, Y/N listened intently, absorbing every detail. The woman clearly knew Tim’s schedule inside and out, and Y/N had no doubt she’d have to be just as sharp to keep up.

“Now, a few key things to remember,” Margaret continued. “Mr. Drake-Wayne doesn’t appreciate being interrupted unless it’s absolutely necessary. If there’s a change in the schedule, you’ll run it by me first before bringing it to him. Understood?”

Y/N nodded. “Got it.”

Margaret’s lips twitched in what could almost be amusement. “Good. As for his meetings—he doesn’t like them running overtime, so you’ll need to be assertive when wrapping them up. Some of the execs can be… persistent, but trust me, he’ll back you up if you hold your ground.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “So I’m supposed to keep billionaires on a tight leash?”

The older woman smirked. “Essentially. Think you can handle that?”

She honestly had no idea. But she nodded anyway.

“Bhenchod.”

For those unfamiliar with the term, it’s a word deeply rooted in the vernacular of India’s capital city, Delhi. Technically, it translates to “sisterfucker,” but its usage extends far beyond its literal meaning. Bhenchod is an emotion, a linguistic tool to add weight and intensity to a statement. It’s one of the most potent, versatile, and yet oddly innocuous slangs known to mankind—a word that resonates deeply with the populace who use it.

A quick Google search for the term reveals an ocean of information, ranging from the trivial to the profound. Yet, almost all sources point to one undeniable truth: this remarkable slang has been a reliable outlet for venting frustration, anger, and distress for generations. Simply put, there’s hardly a match for it—not just in English, but in any other language.

And frustration, anger, and distress were exactly what Vanshita L/N and Y/N L/N were experiencing.

“You’re telling me that vo chutiya mendhak who’s been messing with you is Bruce Wayne’s son? Bhai, matlab kya? Aur tujhe pata kaise nahi tha?” Vani groaned, her head in her hands as she processed the absurdity of the situation. that fucking frog / Bro, I mean what? / And how did you not know? Who could’ve thought that the annoying customer from the coffee shop was someone of such high importance?

Y/N, sprawled face-down on her bed, let out a scream into her pillow. “I didn’t even know that Kim Kardashian isn’t black until like three years ago,” she half-sobbed, her voice dripping with despair.

Vani sighed, shaking her head as she leaned back against the headboard, her expression a mix of exasperation and amusement. “Chal, baap toh samajh aata hai, cuz his Met Gala fit honestly slayed so hard last year. But like, you were going to work for his company. Uggh. How did you not recognize him?” Okay, I get the dad because his Met Gala fit honestly slayed so hard last year.

“How do you expect me to memorize the faces of Gotham socialites and their sons? It’s not like I stalk their Instagrams or read Gotham Gazette for fun! That’s enough. Didi, mai marne jaa rahi hoo,” Y/N wailed melodramatically, burying her face deeper into the pillow. Her voice was muffled, but the sheer drama in her tone was impossible to miss. Didi, I’m going to die.

Vani rolled her eyes, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Kaha? Chowpatty pe?” Where? At Chowpatty Beach?

Y/N rolled onto her back, kicking her legs in the air as if trying to shake off the frustration. “Nahi, Gotham Harbour,” she declared, her voice thick with determination. No

Vani raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a smirk. “Lekin Mala, raat ko Gotham Harbour ka pani thanda hota hai na? Tum kal dopahar ko dhai baje, uss samay paani garam hoga. Aasani se upar nikal jaogi. Takleef bhi nahi hogi zyada. Hai na?” But Mala, the water at Gotham Harbour is cold at night, right? You should go tomorrow afternoon at 2:30 PM, when the water is warm. You’ll pass away easily. It won’t even hurt much. Right? (a reference to the 2010 bollywood movie Action Replayy)

Y/N sat up abruptly, glaring at her sister. “Chiiiii! Why would I drown in lukewarm Gotham Harbour water? Do you know how filthy that shit is? It’s probably full of toxic waste and who knows what else!” Ewww

“Then sneak into Wayne Manor and drown in their pool. The water is clean, and you’ll be able to maybe pin a murder charge on them. Imagine the headlines: ‘Intern Found Dead in Wayne Manor Pool—Mystery Surrounds Tragic End.’ It’s poetic, really.”

Y/N stared at her, torn between laughter and disbelief. “Didi, you’re supposed to be helping me, not giving me ideas on how to frame Tim Drake Wayne for my murder.”

Vani grinned, clearly enjoying herself. “Hey, I’m just saying. If you’re going to go out, might as well make it dramatic. Besides, think about it—you’d be doing the world a favor. Taking down the Wayne family from beyond the grave? That’s some next-level revenge.”

Y/N groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the bed with all the flair of a heroine in distress. “I hate you,” she declared, though her tone lacked any real venom.

Vani stayed unfazed. “But in all honesty, you need to concentrate on yourself. Look, I know men like him—they want to see you squirm, all hot and bothered. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”

Y/N propped herself up on her elbows, her expression skeptical. “So essentially, I become the perfect secretary and do exactly as he says? That’s your brilliant plan?”

“Yup,” Vani replied, popping the ‘p’ with a grin. “He’ll test you, but don’t break. Just think of him as the aunties at family functions. You got around them, didn’t you? This white boy can’t do shit to you, hmm?”

Y/N frowned, her voice softening. “But at family functions, I had you, Didi. Without you, I don’t know if I can maintain the same composure.”

Vani sighed, her heart tightening at the vulnerability in her sister’s voice. How she wished she could just reach over, brush that strand of hair out of Y/N’s face and hug her. “Agar mere haath me hota toh, I’d catch the next flight to Gotham aur uss ghatiya aadmi ko mai khud aake pel deti. But I can’t, not yet at least. Just four more months, Y/N. Then I’ll be right there.” If it were up to me then, I’d catch the next flight to Gotham and personally kick that jerk’s ass.

Y/N’s voice dropped to a whisper, her words heavy with emotion. “Didi, I miss you.”

It was a simple statement, but it carried the weight of everything unsaid. Y/N didn’t miss anyone like she missed her sister. Their late-night cooking sessions, cutting bangs at two in the morning, spilling family gossip, stupid shenanigans, going on drives together—she missed all of it so, so much. But she rarely expressed it, knowing how much it would affect Vani.

Vani’s expression softened, her usual sharp edges melting away. “I miss you too, baccha. More than you know.”

Y/N looked away, her throat tightening. “It’s just… it’s hard without you. You’ve always been my shield, my person. And now I’m here, dealing with this… this mendhak all by myself.” frog

“Listen to me. You’re stronger than you think. You’ve always been. And you don’t need me to handle some spoiled rich boy. You’ve got this, Y/N. Our ancestors didn’t die for you to crack under a white dude. Just stay calm, stay focused, and don’t let him see you sweat.”

Y/N nodded, her resolve hardening. “Okay. But if he tries anything—”

“Remember what I taught you,” Vani interrupted, her tone firm. “Crotch, Solar Plexus and Throat. Got it?”

Y/N smiled, a small but genuine one, as she recalled the lessons Vani had drilled into her years ago. “Got it.”

Y/N walked into Wayne Enterprises with her head held high, her heels clicking confidently against the polished marble floor. The lobby buzzed with activity—employees rushing to meetings, security guards scanning badges, and the faint sounds of conversation filling the air. She took a deep breath, reminding herself of the plan she'd crafted the night before.

Step one: Don't let Tim get under your skin.

Step two: Prove you're more than just a secretary.

Step three: Show him you're not someone he can mess with.

She made her way to the elevator, nodding politely at a few familiar faces from her first day. When the doors slid open, she stepped inside, pressing the button for the 42nd floor—the Architecture and R&D department. As the elevator ascended, Y/N's mind wandered back to her conversation with Vani. Her sister's words echoed in her head: “No one messes with my little sister and gets away with it. Not even Bruce Wayne's brat.”

The memory brought a small smile to her lips, and she felt a surge of determination. When the elevator doors opened, Y/N stepped out into the sleek, modern office space. The Architecture and R&D department was a hive of activity, with designers hunched over blueprints, engineers discussing prototypes, and interns scurrying around with coffee cups in hand. She spotted Margaret at her desk, typing away on her computer. The older woman looked up as Y/N approached, her sharp eyes scanning her with a mix of curiosity and approval.

“Morning,” Margaret said, her tone brisk but not unkind. “You're early. I like that.”

Y/N smiled. “I figured I'd get a head start. Is there anything specific you need me to do today?”

Margaret handed her a tablet. “Mr. Drake-Wayne has a site visit at 10 AM. You’ll be accompanying him to take notes and manage any last-minute changes to the schedule. Make sure you’re prepared—he doesn’t like surprises.”

Y/N nodded, her stomach fluttering with a mix of nerves and excitement. This was her chance to prove herself. “Got it. Anything else?” Margaret hesitated for a moment, then leaned in slightly, her voice lowering. “Just... be careful. He’s not an easy person to work with, but if you can handle him, you’ll do just fine here.”

Y/N nodded again, this time more determined. “Thanks, Margaret. I’ll keep that in mind.”

At 9:45 AM, Y/N stood outside Tim’s office, her tablet in hand and her heart pounding in her chest. She took a deep breath, straightened her blazer, and knocked lightly on the door. “Come in,” Tim’s voice called from inside. Y/N pushed the door open and stepped inside. Tim was sitting at his desk, his attention focused on the laptop in front of him. He didn’t look up as she entered, but she could see the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Good morning, sir,” she said, her tone professional but firm.

“We have a site visit in 15 minutes. I’ve reviewed the schedule and prepared the necessary documents. Is there anything else you need before we leave?” Tim finally looked up, his blue eyes meeting hers with that mirth of amusement. “Good morning, Miss Y/N. You’re early. Impressive.”

Y/N forced a polite smile. “I like to be prepared.”

Tim leaned back in his chair, his smirk widening. “Good. Because today’s going to be a long day. Let’s see if you can keep up.” Y/N’s jaw tightened, but she refused to let him see how much his words rattled her. “I’ll do my best, sir.” Tim stood, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair.

“Then let’s get going. And remember—no mistakes.”

The car ride to the construction site was silent, save for the low hum of the engine and the occasional tap of Y/N’s stylus against her tablet as she double-checked the project specs. Tim sat beside her, his gaze fixed out the window, his expression unreadable. The tension between them was thick, but Y/N refused to let it distract her.

When they arrived, the site foreman greeted them with a firm handshake. “Mr. Drake-Wayne, everything’s on schedule. We’ve hit a few minor snags with the steel delivery, but nothing we can’t handle.”

Tim nodded, his sharp eyes scanning the bustling site. “Show me.”

Y/N followed closely, jotting down notes and snapping photos of the areas Tim inspected. He moved with precision, asking pointed questions that left the foreman scrambling for answers more than once. She could see the frustration building in the man’s expression, but Tim didn’t relent.

At one point, he stopped near a half-finished support beam, running a gloved hand along the edge. “This isn’t the grade we specified.”

The foreman hesitated. “There was a substitution approved by—”

“By who?” Tim cut in, his voice dangerously calm.

Y/N quickly pulled up the procurement logs on her tablet. “According to the records, the change was signed off by Mr. Henshaw in procurement. It was flagged as a cost-saving measure.”

Tim didn’t look at her, but she saw the slight tightening of his jaw. “Get Henshaw on the phone. Now.”

The foreman paled but nodded, stepping away to make the call.

Tim finally turned to Y/N, his gaze piercing. “You caught that fast.”

She met his eyes evenly. “I reviewed the files last night. I know the specs.”

A slow smirk curled at the corner of his mouth. “Good. Because if you hadn’t, I’d have had to reconsider your position.”

Y/N didn’t flinch. “Lucky for both of us, then.”

His smirk deepened, but before he could respond, the foreman returned, phone in hand. “Mr. Henshaw’s on the line.”

Tim took the phone, his voice dropping into that deceptively smooth tone that always meant trouble for someone. “Henshaw. Explain to me why my project is being built with subpar materials.”

Y/N watched as he walked a few paces away, his posture relaxed but his words razor-sharp. She exhaled slowly, steadying herself.

No mistakes.

However as it turned out, Timothy Drake Wayne seemed to have every intention of making her his glorified errand girl—a pattern that had persisted for days, then weeks, growing more blatant with each passing task. At first, his demands had been subtle, wrapped in the guise of professional necessity. She hadn’t even realized what was happening until much later, when all of it finally settled in on her. Alone in the privacy of her home, she had groaned in frustration, cry into her pillow, bury her face in her hands, only to emerge the next morning with that same polished, unshakable smile. If he wanted professionalism, then fine—she would give him nothing less.

But as the weeks dragged on, Tim shed any pretense of subtlety. His requests became bolder, his tone sharper, his expectations more unreasonable. He’s frustrated, a voice in the back of her mind whispered, smug. That means you’re winning. And yet, despite her silent victories, the reality remained: he was still getting exactly what he wanted, while she was left gritting her teeth behind a carefully maintained facade. Oh, she wasn’t losing—technically, he was holding up his end of their unspoken bargain—but that didn’t make his behavior any less insufferable.

Then, just yesterday, he had crossed a new line. With that infuriatingly casual arrogance, he had informed her that his preferred barista had quit, and since she was already at his beck and call, he would very much appreciate it if she could make him a cup of coffee. That was the moment something inside her snapped—not in anger, but in quiet, devious inspiration.

A slow smile curled at the edges of her lips. Oh, I’ll make you a drink, alright.

“Sir,” she said smoothly, tilting her head just slightly. “How about I make you a cup of tea instead?”

Tim’s brows furrowed for a fraction of a second, clearly thrown by the counteroffer. But after a brief pause, he shrugged. “Fine. Just make sure it’s strong.”

Oh, it’ll be strong, she thought as she turned on her heel, heading toward the staff kitchen on their floor. Strong enough to knock you on your ass.

She had been subjected to his pathetic, watered-down excuse for tea far too many times to let this opportunity pass. Over the past few weeks, thanks to his insistence that she clock in early—cutting into her precious morning routine—she had adapted. No longer able to enjoy her usual chai ritual at home, she had taken to smuggling her own supplies into the office: a small tin of pre-ground spices, a knob of fresh ginger, and the quiet satisfaction of knowing that, at least for a few minutes each day, she could reclaim something just for herself.

The kettle whistled sharply, snapping Y/N out of her thoughts as steam curled into the air. She poured the boiling tea into a mug, the rich aroma of ginger, cardamom and all the other spices already rising from the spice blend she’d stirred in. Followed by a careful stir—just enough to make it smooth but flawless —and then, with a final glance to ensure no one was watching, she added an extra pinch of black pepper for good measure.

Let Gotham's golden child try to call this “just tea” now, she mused, stirring the concoction with the deliberate care of a chemist perfecting a volatile compound. The aroma alone was potent enough to clear sinuses - warm, earthy, and carrying just enough heat to promise consequences.

Balancing the mug with practiced ease, she navigated the corridor back to Tim's office, her measured footsteps belying the electric anticipation coursing through her. The steam rising from the cup left a spicy trail in her wake, like breadcrumbs marking the path to her small rebellion. Through the glass walls, she could see him hunched over his workstation, fingers flying across the keyboard with that characteristic Drake-Wayne intensity that made interns quake in their loafers.

“Your tea, sir,” she announced, setting the mug on a coaster with exaggerated care, her voice the picture of professional deference. The corner of his mouth twitched in acknowledgment, one hand reaching blindly for the beverage while his eyes remained glued to his screen.

The moment the liquid touched his lips, time seemed to suspend.

First came the subtle widening of his eyes - blue irises flashing with sudden alarm. Then his throat convulsed as the full force of the spices hit his unprepared palate. A strangled sound escaped him as he jerked forward, the mug hitting the desk with enough force to send a dark droplet splashing onto a quarterly report.

“Christ-” he rasped, grabbing for a tissue as his eyes streamed. The usually immaculate Timothy Drake-Wayne was reduced to spluttering indignity, his fair skin flushing from collar to hairline. “What in the nine hells was that?”

Y/N tilted her head, the picture of innocent concern. “Oh dear, was it too warm? I did let it cool and stirred it clockwise seven times as per your usual preference.” Her fingers twitched toward the mug. “Shall I fetch some water to dilute it?”

“Warm?” His voice cracked mid-word. “This isn't tea, this is- this is-” He broke off, fanning his mouth as another wave of heat hit him. “Did you grind up cayenne peppers and call it a beverage?”

“Proper masala chai, actually,” she corrected smoothly, unable to suppress the tiny smirk playing at her lips. “A family recipe. Though I did modify the proportions slightly to suit your request for something... robust.”

His glare could have melted steel. “Robust? This is a biological hazard. I can feel my esophagus reconstructing itself.”

She allowed herself a small, graceful shrug. “You did insist on strength over subtlety, sir. I merely took you at your word.” The unspoken challenge hung between them, as potent as the spices still burning his tongue. Serves you right bitch.

The office air crackled with tension as Tim studied her through still-watering eyes. Then, with deliberate slowness, he pushed the mug across the polished surface until it stopped directly before her. “By all means,” he said, voice deceptively light, “demonstrate how this is meant to be consumed.”

Without breaking eye contact, Y/N lifted the cup to her lips and took a long, deliberate swallow. The heat bloomed across her tongue - familiar, comforting, like her grandmother's kitchen on winter mornings. She made a show of savoring the flavor, sighing contentedly before setting it down with a soft clink. “Mmm. Just the right balance, if I do say so myself.”

Tim's expression morphed through several fascinating iterations - disbelief, outrage, reluctant admiration - before settling on something dangerously amused. “You're enjoying this,” he accused, though there was a new note in his voice that hadn't been there before.

“Enjoying what, Mr. Drake-Wayne?” She blinked owlishly. “Providing exemplary service as always.”

A beat of silence stretched between them. Then, to her utter astonishment, Tim threw his head back and laughed - a real, unguarded sound that transformed his usually composed features. “You're absolutely impossible,” he declared, though the words lacked their usual bite.

“And yet,” she countered, emboldened by his reaction, “you haven't fired me.”

He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking softly, and regarded her with something perilously close to respect. “Next time,” he said, pointing a warning finger, “you lead with 'this will melt your face off' before handing me something.”

Y/N retrieved the mug, her fingers lingering on the warm ceramic. “Where would be the fun in that?” she murmured, turning toward the door. Behind her, she could feel his gaze following, and for the first time since taking this position, she wondered if she'd finally found the chink in Timothy Drake-Wayne's polished armor.

The moment Y/N stepped out of Wayne Enterprises’ towering glass doors, she exhaled deeply, as if shedding the weight of Tim’s impossible expectations along with her blazer. The Gotham evening air was thick with the usual blend of exhaust fumes and impending rain, but to her, it smelled like freedom—at least for the next few hours.

She made a quick detour to her dorm, swapping her stiff corporate attire for something far more forgiving—a soft knit sweater, well-worn jeans, and boots that had seen better days. After tossing her work bag onto her bed, she grabbed her favorite oversized tote, already stuffed with a well-loved paperback and a small pouch of cat treats.

Her second job—if it could even be called that—was less of a necessity and more of a sanctuary. The Velvet Paw, a hybrid bookshop and cat café tucked away in one of Gotham’s quieter corners, was a world apart from the cutthroat corporate environment she endured during the day. The café was the passion project of Selina Kyle, a woman whose name carried weight in Gotham’s elite circles, though Y/N had long stopped caring about that. To her, Selina was simply the woman who had given her a haven when she needed it most.

The café itself was a relic of warmth in a city that thrived on cold ambition. Shelves of secondhand books lined the walls, their spines cracked, and pages yellowed with age. Plush armchairs were occupied by both patrons and feline residents, the latter often commandeering laps without permission. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and vanilla candles mingled in the air, a stark contrast to the sterile, caffeinated urgency of Wayne Enterprises.

When Y/N pushed through the door, the soft chime announcing her arrival, her coworker—a perpetually cheerful art student named Lila—waved from behind the counter. “Hey, you’re just in time,” Lila said, nodding toward the far corner. “MissSelina is here.”

Y/N’s face lit up. Selina’s visits were rare but always a highlight. There she was, draped in effortless elegance, seated at her usual corner table with a cup of black coffee and a small entourage of cats vying for her attention. Even in something as simple as a fitted turtleneck and tailored slacks, Selina exuded a magnetism that made it impossible to look away.

Y/N approached with a grin, her steps light. “Good evening, didi,” she greeted, the term slipping out before she could stop it.

The first time she’d called Selina that, it had been an accident—a moment of exhaustion-induced nostalgia. But instead of correcting her, Selina had merely arched a brow and asked, “Didi?” Y/N had explained, cheeks burning, that it was an endearment back home, reserved for older sisters or women who felt like family. Selina had listened, sipped her coffee, and then said, “Well then, I suppose I’ll allow it.”

Now, Selina’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “Good evening, dear. How was your day?”

“Survived,” Y/N replied dryly, scooping up a particularly insistent tabby from the chair opposite Selina before taking a seat. The cat immediately reclaimed its spot in her lap, purring like a tiny engine.

Selina’s sharp eyes didn’t miss much. “That bad?”

“Let’s just say my boss is lucky I don’t believe in workplace violence.”

Selina laughed, the sound rich and warm. “Ah, those corporate sleazeballs. Always so… particular.” She took a sip of her coffee before gesturing to a small carrier beside her. “Speaking of particular—I come bearing gifts.”

Y/N peered inside. A rotte, butterball of a cat with golden-brown fur blinked up at her with an expression that suggested he was already judging her life choices. Beside him, curled into a tiny ball, was a fragile-looking white kitten, its ribs too visible beneath its fur.

Y/N’s heart clenched. “Selina…”

“I know we’re at capacity,” Selina admitted, stroking the kitten’s head with surprising gentleness. “But well—”

Y/N let out a soft sigh, fingers still buried in the thick fur of the golden-brown cat, who had now sprawled across the table like a contented monarch. “With all due respect, didi, you own the place,” she pointed out, amusement coloring her tone. “I don’t think you need my permission to bring in more cats.”

Selina’s lips curved into a smile, her emerald eyes alight with something warm and genuine—a rare sight for a woman who usually moved with calculated grace. “That’s incredibly sweet of you,” she said, reaching over to scratch behind the ears of the frail white kitten still cradled in Y/N’s other hand. “But you know it’s more than that. You love them the same way I do. It…” She paused, her gaze softening as she watched the kitten nuzzle into Y/N’s palm. “It makes me happy, knowing they’re cared for like this.”

There was a weight to her words, an unspoken history that Y/N had learned not to pry into. Selina’s affection for strays—feline or otherwise—ran deeper than simple philanthropy.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Y/N replied honestly, her thumb brushing gently over the kitten’s tiny head. “And I could never mind more additions to the family. The more, the merrier.” She tilted her head, curiosity sparking. “So, where did you find them?”

Selina leaned back in her chair, the ghost of a smirk playing at her lips. “Actually, my boyfriend’s son found them. He already has enough pets at home, and he wasn’t sure his father would approve of two more.”

Ah. That explained it.

Selina’s long-term boyfriend—a man Y/N had never met but whose presence loomed large in snippets of conversation—was apparently as much a soft touch for strays as Selina herself. From what Y/N had gathered over time, their relationship was… complicated. On-again, off-again, full of unspoken rules and a mutual understanding that seemed to transcend traditional labels. She’d never understood how anyone could date a woman like Selina Kyle and not marry her at the first opportunity, but then again, Selina wasn’t the kind of woman who fit neatly into societal expectations.

What was clear, though, was how deeply she cared for his family—especially his children. The boy, whose name Selina never mentioned outright, as if protecting his identity even in casual conversation, had contributed just as many furry residents to the café as Selina herself.

Y/N grinned. “Let me guess—this isn’t the first time he’s brought you a ‘just this one, I promise’ case?”

Selina’s laughter was rich, melodic. “Not even close.”

The chubby golden cat chose that moment to roll onto his back, paws batting playfully at the air, as if demanding attention. Y/N obliged, scratching his belly. “So, what are their names?”

“Oh, they don’t have any yet,” Selina said breezily, swirling her coffee. “Feel free to name them.”

Y/N’s breath caught. Name them? That was a privilege usually reserved for Selina or—on rare occasions—her boyfriend’s son. The realization sent a flicker of warmth through her chest.

“I’d love to,” she said, already mentally running through possibilities. The golden one, with his regal bearing and demanding demeanor, could be—

“Oh, and also—” Selina interrupted her thoughts, reaching into her sleek designer bag. A moment later, she placed a small, velvet-black box on the table between them.

Y/N’s fingers stilled on the cat’s fur.

“Open it,” Selina said, her voice casual, but her eyes sharp—watching, waiting.

Y/N hesitated. The box was too small for jewelry, too elegant for something mundane. Her pulse kicked up a notch as she slowly reached for it, Selina’s gaze heavy on her skin.

With a slow exhale, she lifted the lid.

Nestled inside, gleaming under the soft golden lights of The Velvet Paw, was a watch.

Not just any watch.

The brand was Italian, the name etched in delicate script along the inner bezel—a name she recognized from storefronts she’d never dared enter, from magazines that featured price tags with more digits than her rent. The design was understated but immaculate: a silver band with a face neither too large nor too delicate, the hands moving with a quiet, precise elegance. The kind of timepiece that belonged on the wrists of Gotham’s elite, not on someone who still budgeted for instant noodles.

Her throat tightened.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, unable to tear her eyes away from the way the light caught on the silver numerals.

Selina’s smile was knowing. “It’s for you.”

Y/N’s head snapped up. “Me?”

“I heard you got the internship,” Selina continued, leaning back in her chair with effortless poise. “After all those late nights studying, all those applications you agonized over—you think I wouldn’t notice?” She tilted her head, her gaze softening. “You earned this.”

Y/N’s fingers twitched, aching to touch it, to feel the weight of it on her wrist—but she recoiled as if burned. “No. No. I can’t accept something like this. It’s—” She gestured helplessly at the watch. “Look at it. It probably costs more than my tuition.”

Selina sighed, folding her arms on the table. The movement was casual, but there was a firmness in her tone that brooked no argument. “You know what’s worth more than this watch?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “You. The hours you’ve spent here. The way you treat these strays as if they’re your own. The care you put into this place—my place—even when you’re exhausted from your other job. That’s priceless.” Her voice dropped, just a fraction, into something almost tender. “Consider it a thank-you. And before you argue,” she added, raising a perfectly manicured finger, “ask yourself: Could you really reject this and break your poor didi’s heart?”

The words were playful, but the look in Selina’s eyes was anything but.

Y/N swallowed hard, her chest aching with something she couldn’t name. Gratitude? Guilt? The overwhelming sense that, for the first time in a long time, someone had seen her—really seen her—and decided she was worth this?

Her fingers trembled as she finally reached for the watch, the metal cool against her skin. It fit perfectly. Of course it did. Selina didn’t do things by halves.

When she looked up, her vision was suspiciously blurry.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice thick. Two words—too small, too inadequate—but they were all she could manage without her voice cracking.

Selina’s smile was worth more than the watch could ever be. “You’re welcome sweetheart.”

And just like that, the watch became more than an accessory.

It was a promise.

A reminder.

That she belonged somewhere in a way that mattered.

The white kitten— newly christened— batted playfully at the golden-brown cat’s tail while Y/N measured out their evening meal. “There you go Pari and Aloo,” she cooed, setting down two ceramic bowls. The mismatched pair immediately abandoned their game in favor of dinner.

“Pari and Aloo? How is it fair that one is called fairy and the other potato. It’s disappointing to bias names based on appearance. All felines are deserving of dignified names, I believe.”

The sudden voice behind her made Y/N start so violently she nearly dropped the entire container of treats. Whirling around, she found herself face-to-face with a familiar scowling preteen.

“Damian!” she exhaled, pressing a hand to her pounding heart. “Do you always materialize like that? One of these days I’m going to—”

“You’ve been saying that since November,” the boy interrupted smoothly, his green eyes flicking between the cats with undisguised judgment. “Yet your reflexes remain disappointingly slow.”

Damian had been visiting The Velvet Paw with clockwork regularity since Y/N’s first week. Unlike most twelve-year-olds who came to pet cats between video games and sugar rushes, he moved through the café with the solemn dignity of a Victorian naturalist cataloging specimens. Their relationship had settled into an easy rhythm of shared silences, occasional literary debates and mutual appreciation for feline company. In Gotham’s constant chaos, she’d come to cherish their quiet interactions.

“I didn’t know you understood Hindi,” Y/N observed, studying his features anew. The warm undertones of his complexion, the slight curve of his nose – traits that had made her wonder before about possible South Asian heritage.

“You never asked,” he replied with characteristic bluntness, though his posture relaxed marginally as Aloo butted against his shins. “My mother is Arab-Chinese. Hindi and Urdu are commonly spoken where she resides.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. Personal revelations from Damian were rarer than a calm night in Gotham. She filed this one away carefully.

“So what would you prefer then, your highness?” she teased, gesturing to the golden cat now sprawled regally across Damian’s designer sneakers. “Does Badshah-e-Alam suit his majesty better?” Emperor of the universe

Damian’s nose wrinkled. “Hardly. That pretentious stray couldn’t rule a cardboard box.” Yet even as he scoffed, Y/N didn’t miss the careful way his fingers checked Aloo for mats behind the ears – or how the usually aloof cat permitted the inspection without protest.

“Well,” Y/N said, hiding a smile by reorganizing the treat jars, “until you deign to suggest alternatives, Potato he remains.” She tossed a treat toward Pari, who ate the treat without any reservation. “And our little fairy seems perfectly content with her name.”

Damian made a noncommittal noise that Y/N had learned meant reluctant acquiescence. As she watched him surreptitiously feed Aloo an extra treat from his pocket, it struck her again how this guarded, brilliant boy reminded her so much of the strays they both loved – all prickly exteriors masking unexpected softness.

“You’ll spoil him rotten,” she murmured, though the admonishment held no real heat. The sight of Gotham’s most intimidating twelve-year-old being wrapped around a chubby tabby’s paw never failed to amuse her.

Damian’s spine straightened immediately, his mask of indifference snapping back into place. “Nonsense. Proper nutrition is essential for—”

But Aloo chose that moment to headbutt Damian’s knee with enough force to make the boy stumble, his carefully cultivated dignity crumbling under feline insistence. Y/N turned away under the pretense of rearranging mugs to give him privacy as he muttered what sounded suspiciously like endearments in what she now recognized as Arabic-inflected Hindi.

When she glanced back, Damian had retreated to his customary corner table— the one tucked between the philosophy section and the emergency exit with optimal sightlines of all entrances. His sketchbook was already open, charcoal moving in precise strokes that somehow captured the essence of cats' energy, some quiet some playful, even in rough outlines.

Y/N moved to the special tea cabinet behind the counter – the locked one where Selina kept the imported Darjeeling first flush and the small tin of Kashmiri saffron strands that cost more than most customers’ monthly rent. The ritual was familiar by now: warming the porcelain cup exactly 38 seconds before pouring, measuring the saffron threads with surgical precision, adding just enough honey to enhance rather than overwhelm.

The resulting brew shimmered like liquid gold in the afternoon light, the aroma alone enough to transport her momentarily back to her home. She carried it over without ceremony, setting it on the far corner of Damian’s table where it wouldn’t interfere with his sketching space.

“Your usual,” she said softly, already turning to leave.

Damian’s hand shot out with surprising speed, his fingers brushing the cup’s rim in silent thanks before retreating just as quickly. It was more acknowledgment than most patrons ever received. Y/N hid her smile as she walked away, giving him the solitude he preferred but so rarely seemed to get.

The café's wall clock ticked past 9:45 PM, its rhythmic clicking the only sound breaking the comfortable silence. Golden lamplight pooled around Damian's corner table like a protective halo, illuminating the growing collection of crumpled paper surrounding him. Y/N moved through the dim space with practiced quietness, her socked feet making no sound against the hardwood as she righted chairs and wiped down tables.

Most of the feline residents had long since retreated to their preferred sleeping spots – Mr. Whiskers curled in his heated bed by the register, Duchess sprawled across three cushions in the bay window. Only Aloo remained stubbornly awake, his tail flicking in time with Damian's increasingly frustrated charcoal strokes.

“Artist's block?” Y/N ventured softly, pausing by his table with a fresh pot of zafrani.

Damian's jaw tightened, his charcoal-smudged fingers freezing mid-stroke. For a long moment, Y/N thought he might ignore her completely – until his pencil snapped with an audible crack.

“No matter what I draw,” he ground out, voice uncharacteristically raw, “I can't make it work.” The admission seemed to cost him, his shoulders hunching slightly as if bracing for judgment.

Y/N set the teapot down with deliberate care, sliding into the chair opposite him. Without asking permission, she began gathering the discarded sketches, smoothing each crumpled sheet with the side of her hand. The drawings took her breath away – a sleeping Pari rendered in such delicate strokes the page seemed to breathe, a stunning chiaroscuro study of the café's front window at golden hour, even a few candid sketches of herself lost in thought behind the counter, steam curling from a teacup in her hands.

“You keep them,” Damian said suddenly, watching as she carefully tucked the papers into her canvas tote. It wasn't quite a question.

Y/N hesitated, her fingers brushing the worn leather cover of her journal before pulling it free. “Go through it,” she said, pushing the book across the table.

Damian's brows drew together as he flipped open the cover. His breath caught. Page after page contained his own discarded work – every abandoned sketch, every 'failed' study from months of visits, all carefully preserved and dated in Y/N's neat script.

“Why?” The word came out softer than he likely intended, his usual sharpness dulled by genuine confusion.

Y/N traced the journal's frayed edges, choosing her words with care. “Back home, I have a younger cousin – about your age, actually. Brilliant artist, same relentless perfectionism.” A fond smile touched her lips. “She'd spend hours weeping over 'ruined' drawings because one line wasn't exactly right.”

She turned to a particular page where Damian had angrily crossed out a stunning portrait of a person Y/N didn't recognize but from the looks of it she held resemblance to Damian. “I started keeping these for her. So she could look back and see how far she'd come. How even the pieces she hated had beautiful moments.” Her finger hovered over a particularly expressive stroke in the hairline. “Like this line here – it's perfect, isn't it?”

Damian's throat worked silently. He turned another page to find a series of rejected cat studies, each annotated in Y/N's handwriting: “Note the perfect ear angle in #3” or “The way the light catches the fur in #7 is stunning.”

“And you see her in me?” The question came out quieter than he intended, stripped of its usual defensive edge.

Y/N considered him for a long moment. “I see an artist,” she said finally. “One who's forgotten that mastery isn't about perfect pieces – it's about the cumulative beauty of all the attempts.” She tapped a sketch where Damian had captured Aloo mid-yawn. “Even Michelangelo had off days. The difference is, he didn't drive himself crazy over his practice sketches. Probably.”

A strange expression crossed Damian's face – something between frustration and reluctant understanding. Aloo chose that moment to leap into his lap, butting his head against the journal insistently.

“Traitor,” Damian muttered, but his fingers moved automatically to scratch behind the cat's ears. When he finally looked up, his gaze held a new, grudging respect. “You're... not entirely wrong.”

Y/N hid her smile in her teacup. “High praise indeed.” She rose gracefully, leaving the journal in his hands. “Keep it tonight if you like. Just don't let Aloo chew the corners – he's developed a taste for watercolor paper.”

“I understand, Y/N.” The words came clipped and precise, but with less bite than usual.

Y/N paused mid-step, a mischievous glint lighting her eyes as she turned back to face him. The shop's golden lighting caught in the loose strands of hair framing her face as she tilted her head. “Since you understand Hindi and Chinese,” she began, her voice dancing with playful challenge, “I'm guessing you also know it's considered quite rude to call elder people by their names?” She arched one eyebrow meaningfully. “Especially when said elder has been supplying you with illegal amounts of saffron tea for months now.”

Damian's face contorted into an impressive scowl, his green eyes flashing with something between indignation and reluctant amusement. His mouth opened, then closed with an audible click of teeth as he apparently thought better of whatever retort had sprung to mind. Instead, he pointedly looked down at his sketchbook, his charcoal moving with renewed intensity across the page - though Y/N didn't miss the faint pink tinge creeping up his neck.

Her laughter rang through the empty café, warm and rich as she turned back to her closing duties. The familiar routine of wiping counters, righting chairs, and ushering the last few feline residents to their beds carried her through the next half-hour. Aloo protested his bedtime with half-hearted meows but eventually curled into his plush basket with a resigned huff, his golden fur glowing in the dimmed lights.

When Y/N finally turned back toward Damian's corner to announce closing time, her breath caught. The booth stood empty, the usual clutter of art supplies conspicuously absent. Only the faint indentation in the seat cushion and a scattering of charcoal dust remained as evidence of his presence. Had he slipped out without saying goodbye?

Her footsteps echoed softly as she approached the vacated table, hands already reaching for the abandoned teapot. The cool ceramic felt strangely light in her grasp, and beneath it, her fingers brushed against crisp paper. A neat stack of bills lay precisely arranged beside a folded sheet of heavy sketch paper, the amount far exceeding even his usual generous tips. Her breath hitched as she unfolded the paper with careful fingers.

The portrait staring back at her stole the air from her lungs. This wasn't one of the quick sketches she'd glimpsed earlier - this was a studied, intimate rendering that captured her in a moment of unguarded concentration. The play of light across her features as she read behind the counter, the way her hair fell across her shoulder, even the faint crease between her brows when she encountered a particularly difficult passage in her book - all rendered with astonishing sensitivity. It was more than a likeness; it was a revelation of how Damian truly saw her.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she turned the page toward the dim light, revealing the smudged charcoal inscription in the bottom corner. The letters were deliberately formed yet slightly uneven, as if the writer had hesitated over each stroke:

For didi -D

╰ ┈➤ A/n: And anyone who hasn't tried Masala chai already HAS TO TRY IT ASAP. I swear you wont end up like Timmy. He's just a weak ass bish.

╰ ┈➤ Masterlist

╰ ┈➤ Tags: @hana-no-seiiki @sophiethewitch1 @swamiiyasssss @lilyalone @cxcilla @one-pea-in-a-pod @cooki3dough @misaki-kira8 @br0ke-b1tch @fictionalwhor3 @cherriespopsicle @lilithskywalker @multifandom-simp @hayleym1234 @sukaretto-n @idontwantthis22 @sarveshishwarishsuta @eclipse-msoul @aaaashiiii

@joekitsu (credits for that one line)

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modern-gremlin · 1 year ago

Text

Morning Errands | Sebastian SDV — Married Life 🔞

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Pairing: Sebastian (SDV) x afab!reader

Summary: You need Sebastian's help with beginning-of-season errands. If only there was a way you could "wake him up".

Tags: Husband!Sebastian, Smut, established relationship, detailed descriptions of sex, a dash of fluff. NSFW Tags below the cut.

Word Count: 2,900 (I did it, a fic under 5,000 words lol) A/N: Fun Fact — this idea started as a non-SDV related adult animation concept I was in early development of. I unfortunately do not have a lot of time for animating things anymore, so it's definitely more feasible to write it down. PLUS, I just love quickly shooting these stories out — better spat out here than rotting in my brain!!

It was really fun to rewrite it to fit the Stardew Valley world; I think it just gives me so much more to work with. Especially when it comes to writing about the world in detail. (and I get to feed my Sebastian brainworms <33) Hope you enjoy the read xoxo

NSFW Tags: morning sex, foreplay (dry humping), some dirty talk (mostly teasing), oral (male receiving), overstimulation, creampie

"Seb? Seeeeebb, it's 6:40," you say softly with a gentle shake of his arm, "we gotta get going." Still unwilling to move from his comfortable spot on the bed, Sebastian stifles a sleepy groan in response. It's always been hard to wake him up — that's something you knew even before you married him. Working freelance comes with the blessing and curse of setting your own work schedule, which means late night cramming sessions are a normal occurrence. You don't really blame him for wanting to sleep in, but today, he promised to help you with your ever-growing list of morning chores.

You run your fingers through his hair, lightly brushing the dark strands off his cheek with the back of your fingers. He just looks so peaceful when he's asleep; it's really such a shame to wake him up like this. Especially when he wraps his arm around you to cuddle against your thigh. It's almost tempting to sink yourself back into his arms and shut the whole world away under the protection of your shared bed covers. Almost — but you know better than to underestimate your beginning-of-season errands. It doesn't help that you also agreed to host a family dinner with Robin and Demetrius this evening. So much to do, so little time. In hindsight, you wish you planned this all a little better.

With a little more force this time, you try to shake him awake. "Mmph… just a few more minutes…" he mumbles while releasing his arms from your thigh, now lying on his back. At least he's able to get a few words out. That's a good sign, you think to yourself. You head toward your bathroom, hoping that by the time you're done brushing your teeth he'll be sitting upright. Maybe.

A soft, cool breeze enters the small opening of your window as you pass through the hallway. It's remarkable how quickly the seasons change in the valley. From your view in the bathroom, you can catch a glimpse of your summer crops, now reduced to wilted clumps in the soil. You'll definitely need Seb's help with this today. You take a little extra time to brush your teeth and wash your face, trying to buy him time to get up. He's gotta be awake by now, right?

You're not surprised to see him still splayed on the bed, eyes just barely fluttering at the sound of your footsteps entering the room. "Seb, it's almost 7 now. I really need your help," you plead sweetly, hoping the cute tone you've adopted would prompt him to move with more haste. He just smiles and offers a curt, "Mhm," in response, eyes still shut. Wow, he's really out of it, huh? You might need to switch strategies.

If you married Sebastian knowing that he's not exactly a morning person, he should also count on the fact that you're always up for a little bit of mischief — because now, you've got a plan that's basically foolproof. Creeping up to the bed, you slowly plant a knee on each side of his body to gently straddle his lap. With your chest pressed against his, you place kisses on his face. "Sebby, come on" you whisper tenderly into his ear, "you can get up for me, can't you?" He lets out an amused huff out of his nose and wraps an arm around the small of your back. He's definitely more awake now, but perhaps a little more provocation will do the trick.

You kiss along his jaw down to the side of his neck, playing with the collar of his t-shirt with your fingers. His eyes lazily open when you stop, now meeting his gaze from where your cheek rests on his chest. "Morning, sleepyhead. Remember those errands I need help with?" you tease. He lovingly smirks at your remark, placing a hand on your head to gently stroke your hair.

"Mm… what time is it?" he asks in a raspy voice. You answer his question with a light pinch of his cheek,

"Probably seven, by now. We're running a little late, y'know?"

The fact that 7AM is considered late to you is something he's still getting used to. If left to his own devices, he'd absolutely sleep the day away and have his breakfast at 3PM. Yet, he tries his best to slip into your daily schedule because that'd mean he'd get more time to see your face throughout the day, wouldn't it? But you know what they say, old habits die hard, and right now his old habits have him basically glued to the bed.

"What are the chances I can convince you to push these errands to tomorrow?" he asks cheekily.

"Hm… slim to none," you reply. "With the dinner party today and the fair coming up in a few weeks, it's gonna be really tough to–" You notice his eyes droop as you speak. "Seb?" He startles awake at the sudden call of his name.

"M' sorry, babe. Promise I'm not doing it on purpose," Sebastian rubs his eyes and yawns. "It's just... hard to stay awake."

With a smile, you shake your head and sigh, "what am I gonna do with you?"

"Hm…I don't know. What are you going to do with me?" He places his hands onto your back again, looking down at you with a suggestive smirk.

Leaning in closer to his face, just barely grazing your mouth over his, you whisper, "I might have a few ideas."

Placing your hands around his neck, thumbs resting against his jaw, you pull him closer into a deep kiss. He tightens the grip around your waist in response, pulling you closer toward him. God, if he wasn't awake a few minutes ago, he definitely is waking up now. He takes your mouth into his, enveloping your lips entirely and gently brushing them with his tongue. You can feel your pulse quickening as your breasts press firmly against him; an urge slowly building and itching at you from below. Unable to contain yourself, you lower your hips to grind against the thick bulge beneath you. You can't help but smile at how hard he already is; grinning against his tongue.

You pull away to shift your weight onto his clothed cock, gasping at how it rubs against you. "At least one part of you is up," you jeer, rocking slow movements against his length. He muses at your words and brushes his hair away from his face, granting him a better view of your body on top of his.

"Can you blame me?" he smiles, his sleepy eyes scanning your form. Running thumbs underneath the hem of your shirt, he gingerly lifts up the fabric to reveal your bare chest steadily bouncing at the rhythm your clothed pussy rubs against him. "Fuck me," he gasps breathily, "what a way to wake up."

His exasperation makes you laugh, motivating you to grind your hips with more fervour. "I'm glad this is working," you admit, "because we have just– so much– to do…" Your words are broken up with every sway of your hips. He pulls your shirt off your arms as you continuously pleasure yourself with his dick, moaning and creating a wet spot on his boxers. He just watches as you use him, in absolute awe by how your body reacts to his. His head slowly falls backward onto the pillow, closing his eyes to take in the stimulation. Then suddenly, you stop.

His eyes dart open again at your weight being lifted off his lap, ready to pull you back onto him. You move his hands away and lower your face to his lap. "Nuh uh. You gotta wake up," you chastise before pulling down his boxers. He groans breathily when his thick cock springs free, smacking his toned stomach from the speed of your movements. Without warning, you spit on his tip and run your palm against his shaft, causing him to tense at the sudden sensation. For a while, he can only stare at you with furrowed brows and complete admiration.

"I should sleep in more often," he teases while grinning at his own remark. But soon his sly grin is replaced by a strained grit because you wrap your fingers around his fat length, stroking him at an unfair pace. He perches himself up by the elbows, watching you fist his cock from base to tip. "Fuck, baby. You gotta slow down or ill–" You lower yourself to lick his balls, dragging your way up the shaft.

"Can't, Sebby," you say, stopping at the tip. "Can't have you falling asleep on me." Taking his length in your hand, you guide his cock into the warmth of your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head.

He instinctually places his hands on the top of your head as he throws back his own. The bed gently shakes at the bobbing of your head, catching and swallowing his length into your throat. It's all so sudden; so frustratingly sexy that he can hardly take it. With the hand that grips at your hair, he tries to pry you off him — hoping to gain some reprieve. But this only invites you to suck on him with more excitement. It's just too hard to resist when he praises you in his gravelly, morning voice. "Holy fuck, babe. You're too good at tha–" You can feel his cock twitch in your mouth as he pushes you away from him; he must be close.

With a gentle tug of your hair, you give in and pull away. You and Sebastian heave heavily, the latter trying to regain his composure. He's usually the one to make you melt underneath him, so you can't help but marvel at his flustered expression. "You awake now?" you triumph with a mischievous smile. He picks himself up to stare into you; the look in his eyes tell you that you're in for it now.

Releasing his grip, he sits himself upright and leans toward you. "Hm, yeah. I think I am," he says while returning your expression, "turn around."

Without a question, you turn yourself around, resting your chest on the bed while lifting your ass toward him. You wiggle your hips tauntingly in his direction until you're greeted by a firm smack — a small yelp escapes your lips from the impact. "So impatient," he chides while soothing the sting with his palm, "well, you got what you wanted. I'm up." He slaps your ass again before leaning behind you, pressing his chest to your back to whisper into your ear, "unless…there's something else you wanted."

Just the sound of his condescending tone sends shivers down your spine, and he knows it. He hooks a finger by your dripping slit and tugs at your underwear, causing the fabric to bundle tightly against your clit. All semblances of your mischief has disappeared, vanished with his scolding and now you're moaning his name into the covers. You can tell he's enjoying every lewd noise you make, because now he's tugging at your panties harder, trying to elicit a bigger reaction.

"Well, now that I'm awake, let's go over our to-do list, hm?" He releases your underwear, only to slip his cock beneath the fabric and vigorously rub your clit.

"Seb… I can't–" you plead, eager to feel him plunge inside you. He places his hands on your waist, stroking soothing circles with his thumbs against your back.

"Don't worry, baby. You'll get it, after we go through the list. Okay?" he coos.

Stumbling your words in between moans, you begin listing the day's tasks. "W-we… need to clear off the crops…and prepare the fields."

"Mhm," he hums while wetting his tip along your slit. "What's next?"

"Clear off the weeds in front of the b-baaaarn–" You words shake as he teases your entrance with his tip, gliding it to catch your slick. "Then go to Pierre's… to pick up ingredients for tonight." Your legs quiver as he prods your wet cunt, not fully entering.

"Is there…anything else?" Sebastian meaninglessly asks, his own voice getting shaky in anticipation. He doesn't really care what's on the to-do list, not at the moment at least. No doubt he'll have to ask about it later, because all he cares about now is making you beg to be railed.

"We might also need to–" This time, he slowly pushes his cock through your wet folds, slipping himself inch by inch into your cunt until his thighs are flush against you. His size fills you entirely, stopping any words from escaping your mouth.

He lets out a breathy moan as he feels your pussy clench around him, still gritting his teeth to continue, "We might need to what? I didn't… catch the last part." He nearly pulls himself out entirely while waiting for your response.

"We…might need to–" You breathe in heavily while his dick pulses inside you. "Seb, please," you beg in a petulant tone. Your cries are so needy and desperate, but you don't care. There's no pride between you two, only true love and the aching desire to be fucked. Lucky for you, the feeling is mutual. Deciding he's equally impatient, he fucks his full length back into you.

"I think I get the gist," he says with a satisfied smile before plunging himself in and out of your cunt. He so badly wants to praise how well you took his teasing, but he's almost completely breathless. Lost for words at how tight you are, how well your pretty pussy takes him, and utterly smitten by the way you moan his name between thrusts. He wants to pound more of them out of you — a reminder to everyone in town that you've chosen him and he's the one fucking you the way you deserve.

Really, this is just one of the many moments he's reminded just how lucky he is. He feels so lucky that you decided to move to this boring town. So lucky that you stuck around despite his icy exterior, and miraculously lucky that you fell in love with him. Now he gets to wake up beside you everyday, fuck you like no one else can, and navigate life's mundanities with the person he loves. Morning errands be damned; nothing ever feels like a chore now that you're his.

He pounds you harder now — as if he's trying to bury his intentions deep inside you so you can feel his gratitude. Because even all his sly remarks and bullied thrusts are just another way of praising you; another way to tell you he loves you without saying it out loud. Your pussy clenches down on him so tightly, grasping onto his praises like your life depended on it. Ready to cum all over his cock to confirm that you feel the same. But even if your cunt wasn't being obvious, your words certainly were.

"Seb– it feels so. Fucking. Good," you whine in between thrusts. You try to warn him of your impending burst, but the arch of your back signals your orgasm much faster than you can speak. Backing your ass further into him, you accept his length against your cervix until you feel your release. You convulse around him, whispering thank you's under your breath. The only sound reaching his ears are your muffled cries of pleasure and the squeaking of the bed. He fucks you through your orgasm, but even after you come down from the high, he's still not done.

He rails your stimulated pussy over and over again, causing you to reach out your hand behind you to slow him down. "S-sebastian, I just came. Slower, it's so f-fast"

Grabbing your arm by the wrist, he plows deeper into you. "Sorry, baby. Can't," he says breathily, "We got too much to do today, remember?" You turn your head back to look over your shoulder and flash him a blissed-out smile, silently laughing at his twist of your words.

Reaching around to your front, he rubs circles around your puffy clit while he fucks his last few, sloppy blows inside you. "So close, babe. M'so fucking…close" he says with gritted teeth. His movements on your bud stokes the fire within you, threatening to shatter you once again. With one last buck of his hips against yours, he shoots his load deep inside your pussy, filling you to the brim with in white. He groans profanities as he sputters small thrusts into you. The warmth of his semen hitting against you is the last straw, sending you into your second orgasm of the day.

Dropping your wrist from his grip, he leans forward onto your back, pulling out slightly causing his cum to spill out of you. You breathe in unison, heavily and laboured as you try to regain your bearings. Maybe it's been ten minutes or maybe it was an hour, but you both lay beside each other, unbothered by the time that's passing you by.

When you both come down to your senses, your eyes lock onto his and suddenly you're both chuckling at the morning's happenings. With a bright-eyed smile, he takes your palm to rest on his cheek. Placing a kiss on your knuckles, he greets you to start the day.

"Good morning, honey."

#sdv sebastian x reader #stardew valley #stardew valley x reader #stardew valley sebastian #sdv sebastian #stardew valley smut #sdv smut #smut #stardew valley fanfic #stardew smut #also I finished this super late in the morning #I couldn't sleep #I hope it makes sense #grem-writes

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emotionalsupport-ljh · 11 months ago

Text

Breaking and Entering

You don't want Jihoon to worry.

Fluff (a miniscule amount of angst) - woozi x fem!reader

A hell of a lot of words for a sick fic :D Described as "princess treatment" by my friends 😌

AO3 link

Word Count: 3.1k

////////////////////////////////////

Before you even open your eyes, you feel a scratch in your throat that burns like hell. You reach for the water on your nightstand and take large gulps trying to soothe the pain. As your eyes open, they droop heavily and take a moment to adjust to the early morning sunlight that makes its way past your curtains. A chill suddenly attacks the uncovered parts of your body. You duck back under your comforter only to have an oppressive heat come in waves that cause sweat to cling to your forehead. On top of all that, you can’t breathe out of your left nostril. You’re terribly sick.

As you lament in your miserable state, a notification brightens your phone and you have to shut your eyes. You blink them trying to get used to the light, but all it does is give you a headache. You brave through the pain to turn your brightness down and check the notification. It’s a text from your boyfriend, Jihoon.

Jiji: good morning babe~ 😘

You: Good morning!

Jiji: what are ur plans for today? work?

You: No

You pause for a moment before continuing your response. You wonder if it’s a good idea to tell him that you aren’t feeling well today. On one hand, he might want to know that kind of stuff so that he can take care of you. On the other hand, it could cause some unnecessary stress in his already stressful life. Also, with his busy schedule, he probably wouldn’t be able to do much. You decide ultimately that this illness would probably be over quickly, and you don’t want to make Jihoon worry about nothing a little cough medicine and tea would fix.

You: I'm going to take the day off to relax and be lazy lol 😏

Jiji: that sounds nice

i wish i could do the same 😮‍💨

You: Busy schedule today?

Jiji: yup 🙃 but im excited for our date later this week

You: Me too!

Jiji: i have to go to work

text me later

You: Will do! I love you 🩷

Jiji: love u too~🖤

Putting your phone down and taking the chance to move from your bed to at least retrieve some relief in the form of medicine or warm tea, you feel your muscles ache in a way that makes you never want to move again. For now, you stare at the ceiling with the resolve to get over this silly little cold. You fall asleep soon after and stay asleep for many, many hours.

When you finally awaken again, the chill in your bones still hasn't subsided, no matter how many layers of sheet and blanket cover you. You have to force your eyes to open against the deeper sunlight now pouring through the cracks in your curtains. You power through the discomfort to get them to adjust to the brightness. Again, you reach a hand out for your phone and see that it is afternoon and that you have some missed texts from your boyfriend.

Jiji: hey~

wuts up

Jiji: taking an afternoon nap huh

text me when u see this

The messages were all sent about 45 minutes ago. You feel a little bad about lying, but it only strengthens your resolve to get better and put the whole lie behind you. You text back like normal, hoping that he has the time to read and respond even for just a few minutes.

You: Sorry! I fell asleep watching anime

It doesn’t take too long for a reply to pop-up. You had been dating Jihoon for months now, but you still got butterflies every time he texted you. Even now, aching all over and dripping from your face, he makes you feel a warmth you swore would make you even healthier than you were before.

Jiji: oh rub it in my face 🙄 lol

dont get too far without me

You: I would never!! 😫

How’s it been today? You're not too stressed, right?

Jiji: eh

im coping lol

nothing im not used to

You: Don’t push yourself too hard ok? 🥺

You're doing such a great job!!!!!!

Jiji: thx lol

i gotta go. love u~ 🖤

You: I love you too 🩷

You decide to try to come up with the ultimate healing game plan for the rest of the day. You plot out your meals and activities to maximize the time you can spend getting better. Or at least you try to as you come to realize that sleeping an extra 4 and a half hours without getting out of bed means that you’ve yet to relieve yourself. This kickstarts your game plan as you rush to the bathroom.

You power through the aches in your body to finally brush your teeth and put your hair in a manageable bun for the day. You put on your sweats and some socks to keep warm and make your way to the kitchen where you heat up some soup and make a mug of herbal tea. You take medicine and take it easy all day. The change in scenery from your bedroom to the living room not only motivates your mind to change, but also it motivates your body to move. You swear you already feel better.

Unfortunately, the next two days look the same, and you do not, in fact, feel any better. Even with minimal movement throughout the days, you still manage to leave a mess of dirty dishes, clothes, and tissues strewn about the apartment. You are miserable and finally starting to come to terms with it. The delusion of your ability to heal quickly and on your own was finally starting to dissipate. You thought seeing a doctor was a waste of time, but you start to see the necessity of an appointment the more time you spend with a scratch in your throat and a headache hammering your skull.

The worst part, however, is not the pain, nor is it the constant sweating or the need to breathe through your mouth. No, the worst part is that today is Jihoon’s one day off; you are supposed to be ready to go on a date.

It's a little late in the morning when you wake up. You thrash in your bed frustrated that you are still sick and very tired. When you check your phone, there are no new messages. It isn't unusual for Jihoon to sleep in on his days off. You dread having to tell him the truth that you had been sick all week and couldn’t go out tonight. You could anticipate his response: a string of crying emojis and then a laugh where he says he’s just kidding and he’s fine as long as you get better. He wouldn’t really be okay with it, but he would say he is. He would be really disappointed; he isn’t very good at showing his true emotions, but you know he feels them so deeply. You don’t want to cause him any undue stress or heartbreak. At this point, it unfortunately is inevitable.

You grab your phone and hover over Jihoon’s contact, trying to muster the courage to send your good-morning-text and your confession followed by a long apology and promises to make it all up to him one day. You don’t expect your phone to ring, brandishing a very familiar sweet smiling selfie with the name “Jiji” underneath. You are startled then you take a deep breath, clear your throat, and answer.

“Good morning, my baby,” a sleep-rasped voice calls out from the other side.

“Good morning,” you try to answer in a normal voice, doing your best to hide your congestion.

“You sound different. What’s up?” Jihoon caught on immediately.

You whine a little over the phone, only prolonging the inevitable. There’s only silence from the other side. “I’m sick,” you say, then blurt out, “I’ve been sick for the past three days. I really, really tried to get better, honestly. I’m so sorry, Jiji. I can’t go out tonight.”

Your heart beats quickly in your chest, maybe from the nerves of finally coming clean, maybe from the extra exertion on your sick body. The five seconds it takes for Jihoon to respond feel like five hours. All he says is, “Oh. Okay.” After that, he hangs up the phone, leaving you stunned and with a horrible pit in your stomach.

You’re in shock. The kind of shock people feel after breaking a limb or recovering from a disaster. It pushes every other feeling out of your body. You do your morning routine in a fugue state. When you sit back in your bed, it all hits you at once. Tears stream down your face almost unconsciously, and you lay down with your face in your pillow. Eventually, you fall asleep again, too tired from the illness to continue to cry or feel anything.

Jihoon makes up his mind quickly. After abruptly hanging up the phone, he immediately gets up and goes through his own routine faster than ever, even taking 30 minutes off of his normal workout just to have more time for his own plan. After coming home, he does something a little out of character. He goes to the kitchen to cook something that isn’t chicken breast and white rice.

This surprises his roommates. Soonyoung tries to help him with the big pot of what was so far just stock and vegetables. He gets distracted easily, and it takes him a long time to cut up an onion. Jeonghan takes a picture of Jihoon and sends it in the group chat asking if this is normal behavior for Woozis. Seungkwan tries to taste it before the dish is ready and whines when his hand is met with a smack from a wooden spoon.

“This isn’t for any of you. Leave it alone,” Jihoon says in a stern voice.

“Wait, what? Then who is it for?” Soonyoung raises an eyebrow at him.

“Y/N, my girlfriend. She’s sick.”

The mood in the apartment changes. Now, Jeonghan is texting more furiously in the group chat about how Jihoon cares so much about his poor, sick girlfriend. Seungkwan now insists on tasting the dish the whole way through the cooking process to make sure it’s suitable for such refined tastes as his and yours. Soonyoung calls his mom and asks what the best thing is to cure illnesses. It becomes a whole big thing that has Jihoon a little bit annoyed but also grateful his friends care about you almost as much as he cares about you.

Jihoon’s morning and the better part of his afternoon off of work are then filled with surprise visits from Mingyu, Jun, and Seokmin who bring an array of dishes that could feed you for a month and Minghao who brings a special tea blend that he uses when he's feeling sick. Vernon sends a playlist of chill music for you to listen to while you recover, and Wonwoo writes a list of movies he recommends you watch to rest. Chan makes a special delivery of his grandma's famous kimchi, which has the rest of the boys groaning that they don't get any this time. Joshua sends the best essential oil wax melts so you can indulge in some aromatherapy. Finally, Seungcheol makes sure that Jihoon tells you that he can send anything in the world to your house using his card whether it be medicine or a treat from your favorite bakery or even a new designer pajama set to make sure you are at maximum comfort levels.

As he makes his way over to your apartment, Jihoon feels silly carrying a bunch of bags filled with various gifts from everyone on top of the soup he made that seems to pale in comparison. He curses Jeonghan under his breath for telling everyone his plan to bring you supplies, effectively making him the delivery boy because he is the only person who has the passcode to your apartment. He tries to call you on his way over, now adding his phone to the pile he was juggling. It rings a few times and then goes to voicemail. He tries again and meets the same outcome. He assumes that you’re resting; being sick for multiple days sounds exhausting which is why he is so willing to bring over everything he (and the others) could possibly think of to make you feel better.

Jihoon reaches your front door and knocks loud enough that you would be able to hear it from your room, but soft enough that you wouldn’t wake up if you were resting. He waits a beat before just typing the code and letting himself inside. He makes his way to the kitchen and sets down the various bags on the countertops. Only once his arms are empty does he realize the state of the apartment. He slowly takes in the dirty dishes and various random stuff left on the floor. The trashcan is full, and tea bags litter the countertops. There are tissue boxes everywhere, each one full of used tissues.

He walks slowly to your room and, opening the door, he almost couldn’t make out your sleeping shape on the bed. You’re curled up into a ball under many layers of blankets on one side, and on the other was a pile of clothing. There’s more clothing on the floor. Jihoon goes back to the kitchen and takes a deep breath. He meticulously puts all the food everyone prepared into the fridge, rolls up his sleeves, and decides to start there. He makes a list in his head of all the things he could realistically do in the few hours you would be asleep.

The next moment, Jihoon is elbow deep in soapy water scrubbing dishes and wiping countertops. He finds all the cleaning instruments and proceeds to sweep and vacuum. He fills a trash bag with tissues, tissue boxes, and food containers. He gently tiptoes around your room, gathering up the clothes from the floor, which he assumes are dirty, and putting them in the wash. The clothes on the bed, which he checks are clean, are now folded and put in a hamper for later sorting. He even has time to reheat his soup and make a pretty plating of it paired with some rice and a cup of some of Minghao’s herbal tea.

You awaken when you hear dishes clanking in the kitchen. Someone is in your home. You freeze until the noise stops and begin to get up from your bed. With your legs swung over the side of the bed, ready to stand and possibly defend yourself, the door opens slowly and in walks Jihoon with a tray of dishes.

He looks surprised, then flashes a big smile, then says, “Good, you’re awake. It’s time to eat.”

All you can do is stare at him in disbelief as he sets a tray of soup and rice and tea on your lap. He sits cross-legged in the empty space beside you and scrolls through his phone as if it's the most normal thing in the world.

“W…what’s all this?” you stutter out, utterly confused.

“Lunch,” Jihoon answers nonchalantly.

Looking at him beside you, you realize that there is indeed empty space on your bed for him to sit where there was once a pile of clothes. Tears appear behind your eyes when you look around at the spotless floor of your bedroom. You look at your boyfriend as one tear falls.

“Did you…”

“Yeah, it was a real mess in here.” He turns to look at you and uses his thumb to wipe the one tear from your cheek. “Start eating. I bet you haven’t eaten all day. How are you supposed to get better if you don’t eat?”

He was right. You take a spoonful of broth and bring it to your lips. It tastes wonderful. Alternating between tea and soup and rice, you feel fuller, and the heat from the meal eases your throat just a little more. Jihoon looks at you and sees how happy you look to be having a meal that wasn’t microwaved from a package. You are already almost done with the meal after only a few minutes.

“See, you were hungry, huh?” He teasingly shakes his head.

You lightly push your boyfriend's arm. You make a face, suddenly feeling awkward to be around him. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“What? Why? Because you lied to me for days and didn’t let me take care of you? Or because you canceled our date on the day of because you assumed I cared that we went out somewhere?” he starts sarcastically, “I actually hadn’t thought about it all day.”

“I’m serious, Jiji!” you try to whine but end in a cough. He’s laughing at you as you get a little frustrated.

“I’m seriously not mad. I wish you would’ve told me, but being mad won’t fix anything.” His smile is soft, and he’s looking at you with love in his eyes.

“I’m really sorry. I just didn’t want to worry you. I didn’t know it would last this long. Honestly, I don’t know what I have, and you probably shouldn't be sitting so close to me right now.” You weakly try to push Jihoon away, but he sits like a rock, not budging at all.

“I’m fine,” he chuckles, “The plague couldn’t even keep me away from you.” He leans to kiss your forehead.

All your muscles relax as the last few bites on your plate disappear. Jihoon takes the empty tray in one hand and uses the other to guide you to your feet with him. He wordlessly walks you both out of the room. You see that not only is the entire apartment clean, but there are small gifts left out on the coffee table.

“What is all this?” you ask your boyfriend as take a seat on the couch, waiting for him to put the empty plates and bowls from the tray in the sink.

He takes a seat next to you and rubs the back of his neck with one hand and avoids eye contact when he answers, “The guys heard you weren’t feeling great, so, of course, they had to help out, too.” He goes through and shows you the wax melts, medicine, and self-care products. He also tells you about your new stock of homemade meals from the best cooks in the group. You get really excited about the kimchi from Chan’s grandma. He sends you Vernon’s playlist and Wonwoo’s recommendations. He even shows you the text Seungcheol sent him about using his card for whatever you might need.

Everything is perfect for the rest of the evening that was supposed to be a fancy, romantic date night. It turns out that watching movies and listening to music while snuggling and talking is the best medicine for illness and the most romantic date you have ever been on.

#another one thank you #cant write anything but being head over heels in love rn #woozi #seventeen #lee jihoon #svt #lee jihoon fanfic #lee jihoon fanfiction #lee jihoon x reader #woozi fanfiction #woozi fic #woozi x reader #woozi fluff #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #lee jihoon fluff #seventeen fluff #svt fluff

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babyleostuff · 2 years ago

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Hi hi! Could you possibly write more angst? (Any member) Like the mini ones (?) Like fights/arguments and whatnot :)) w fluff at the end (or ending of your choice :P) thank you!!! Love your writing!! <3

fights with seventeen | OT13

I'm SO sorry about being so late with this, but I've been really busy with my exams and I didn't have that much time to write. But now that my vacation began, I'm going to catch up with my requests. Still, I hope you enjoy this one <3

☾₊ ⊹ currently playing: a glimpse of us by joji

𓆩♡𓆪 CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

Of course you’d fight over small things, like in every relationship, but big fights are a very rare occurrence in your relationship. Seungcheol hates seeing you upset, so often those arguments will be over before they even begin.

But if you got into a big fight, it would get loud and messy. Seungcheol is competitive and stubborn, so if he gets fixated on one thing it can be hard to change his mind about it.

If you ever leave the house after a fight, he’ll become a worried mess. He'll call everyone he knows that you might have gone to and if none of them knows where you are he’ll be panicking massively. Don’t ever do that to him, no matter how angry you are at each other at that moment, he can’t stand the thought that you might get hurt and he will not be able to help you.

Would never allow you to sleep on the couch after a fight and even if you’d do that, he’d carry you back to the bedroom.

He’d blame himself for days if you ever cry during a fight, no matter whose fault it was, he’d always blame himself for making you cry.

𓆩♡𓆪 YOON JEONGHAN

Some fights would get you raising your voices at each other, but those types of arguments would be VERY rare and only happen if either of you were very tired or drained from any type of work or schedules.

Normally, neither him nor you would be able to raise your voices at each other, the fight in itself was painful enough, you didn’t need any screaming or yelling.

Both of you would try to explain your point of views, what you think the other did wrong or how they could improve themselves. You’d both be very respectful of each other’s opinions and never make fun or tease in situations like those.

Even during the argument, he’d want to hold your hand or at least be near you. He’d still want to feel connected to you and not put extra space between you. After the fight he’d also stay near you, hug you a lot and never let go of your hand.

𓆩♡𓆪 HONG JOSHUA

Your fights would be very mature and calm. Surely, you would get frustrated and annoyed at each other, but never truly angry or furious. He would never even let you.

You would resolve any of your arguments as quickly as you could, not even once thinking about giving each other the silent treatment. Even if he was away on tour, he’d try to talk to you as soon as possible or even text you, to let you know that he’d want to figure stuff out.

Sometimes, especially if it was more of a small argument, he’d be petty and annoying with you, knowing how to push your buttons, to make you more frustrated. But he would never take it too far, he’d just simply want to tease you a bit.

Knowing that you need some kind of reassurance after a fight, he’d always hug you tightly, kissing the side of your head, where there would be no place for any teasing. He would be very gentle with you then.

𓆩♡𓆪 WEN JUNHUI

In the beginning of your relationship he’d have a bit of trouble talking things out, as he never knew whether you wanted space or not. He was always too scared to ask, since he didn’t want to make things even worse between you.

With time though, you’d learn how to properly talk with each other about those kinds of stuff and your communication skills would only get better and better.

Still, any fights that you’d have would be very calm and neither of you would raise your voices at each other. If, for some reason, you’d get so angry that you’d want to say some hurtful things, you’d just take a break and spend some time apart, trying to collect your thoughts and think about how to solve the fight without hurting the other one.

The aftermath of any fight would be full of love and reassurance - warm hugs and sweet kisses.

𓆩♡𓆪 KWON SOONYOUNG

He’d get so emotional the second he figured you were actually having a fight. Especially during those big fights, that happened once in a blue moon, but still. He would be so torn, because on one hand he’s angry with you, but on the second IT’S YOU, how can he be angry with YOU?

He would probably say whatever came to his mind, not really paying attention to what was coming out of his mouth, which sometimes would do more harm than good. He would apologise right after he released what he’d said, and I'm sure he'd keep on apologising for the next few days, feeling extremely guilty.

After the argument, he would want you to hug him and keep him close to you, letting him know that you’re not upset with him anymore and that you still love him. He would also be clinging to you even more, trying to find comfort in your arms.

𓆩♡𓆪 JEON WONWOO

He is usually quite silent during your fights and you’d be the one who does most of the talking. He’d just simply nod to everything you say and share his view when you’re done.

Never raises his voice at you, no matter how angry or frustrated he is with you. Even after a tiring day, he’d listen to all of your complaints and try to work things out before going to bed. He can’t imagine sleeping without holding you in some way, and he knows that if you two don’t talk it out, you’d probably want to be left alone.

It’s hard for him to actually apologise, but you’d know he’s sorry from his acts of service. The next day, after your fight, he’d be extra attentive to you, never leaving your side and constantly asking you if you need anything.

If you’d ask him for space he, of course, would give it to you, but would feel so lonely without you by his side. He would even try to make your favourite dish to make you feel a little bit better and even though he’d fail massively, it would still make you all warm and fuzzy inside.

𓆩♡𓆪 LEE JIHOON

Very calm, but you're not always capable of telling how he actually feels. He could be fuming inside, but you wouldn’t have known. A lot like Wonwoo, he would be mostly quiet, trying to figure out how he wants to express his emotions.

Because he’s not great with dealing with his own emotions, he would have a bit of a hard time explaining his point of view on whatever you were fighting about. Still, he would be grateful that you were so understanding, even in such a situation.

If you’d want to take the couch, he’d let you. But, sometime during the night, he would come out of your bedroom with an extra blanket to tuck you in and make sure that you’re comfortable.

The next day he would be very attentive to you, but in a silent way. He’d try to make you breakfast, do the most important chores for you, help you out in any way that he could.

𓆩♡𓆪 XU MINGHAO

Any fights or arguments with him are very calm. Even though he sometimes wants to scream out in frustration, he never does that. He knows that screaming at each other won’t help out in any way.

His top one priority is to talk it out as soon as you both are ready, without getting more upset with each other. He just wants to get it over with and get back to normal.

I can see him holding your hand while you talk it out. He wants to stay connected to you and give you a kind of reassurance, that even though you're upset with each other, he’s still there for you and loves you no matter what.

The night after a fight is kind of silent. But not uncomfortable. You’re just very soft and careful around each other, not saying much, but still being in each other’s presence. You cuddle closely that night and exchange some comforting kisses as apologies.

𓆩♡𓆪 KIM MINGYU

Will either behave like a diva and drama queen or like a pouty child. It all depends on the situation, on whose fault it is and how emotionally he’s feeling. If he’s drained and tired, he won’t have the energy to fight with you and would want to resolve it as quickly as possible.

But, when he’s feeling like the usual him, the fights tend to get a bit bigger and emotional. He is stubborn, to the point where he’ll keep fighting with you even when he knows he’s wrong. Will constantly side eye you and sigh time and time again.

If he ever sees that you're getting really upset about the fight he will stop, though. There is nothing worse for him than seeing you so drained and sad and he’ll even apologise first, even when it’s your fault. He just doesn’t want to let such petty and little things come in the way of your happiness.

Even when you fall asleep still a bit angry with him, he’ll still cuddle you (or he would be touching you in some way, he just has to).

𓆩♡𓆪 LEE SEOKMIN

I’m sorry, but there is no way you could have a big fight with this man. The second he sees you getting upset or angry over something he has done, he’ll talk to you immediately.

Can get a bit emotional during fighting sometimes, but he never does that to manipulate you in some way. He just can’t stand the fact that you’re actually upset with each other.

Never raises his voice at you, never gets petty with you, NO silent treatments whatsoever. He doesn’t understand how someone can ignore their partner when they're upset with them. Why not simply talk things out and get back to normal? Every second spent on fighting, means less time to spend it on how you’re actually meant to spend it - happy and having fun!

Will always gives you a lot of hugs and cuddles after a fight, maybe not necessarily to cheer you up, but to reassure himself that you’re not going anywhere and to let you know how much he appreciates you.

𓆩♡𓆪 BOO SEUNGKWAN

So dramatic. So petty. So over the top.

He would be rambling non stop, not letting you speak. He would let out all of his frustrations and annoyances in no time, it would leave him almost breathless. After that, he’d listen to you and do his best to understand your point of view.

Big fights wouldn’t really happen in your relationship, as both of you would get too emotional and start crying and apologising upon seeing each other's sad faces. Still, you’d talk it out and never leave an argument unresolved.

He’d need reassurance after any kind of fight, big or small. It would make him worry that you might want to take a break from him or even break up and that’s when you’d have to tell him that you’d never leave him because of a silly fight.

After one of those silly small fights, you’d laugh about it afterwards, realising how stupid you both were to fight over something so insignificant.

𓆩♡𓆪 CHWE VERNON

He’d be very logical and reasonable during any of your fights, though I can’t really imagine any big fights happening between the two of you. You’d try to avoid any conflicts and always talk things out before they escalate.

If, for any reason, you’d want to sleep on the couch, he’d tell you to sleep in your bed and that he’d take the couch instead. You’d probably wake up sometime during the night and walk out to the living room wrapped in a blanket, laying down next to him.

There are no silent treatments with this dude, he’ll never let you ignore him when you’re angry. As passive as he usually is, he just can’t stand you ignoring him, especially when he doesn;t know what he has done to upset you.

Usually, you watch a movie after a fight to calm yourselves a bit and give each other some time to think, but still be in each other's presence.

𓆩♡𓆪 LEE CHAN

Please don’t fight with him. He’s always so soft spoken with you and it doesn’t change even when you fight. He absolutely hates fighting with you - hates the fact that he can’t hug you, hates that you’re angry and upset. He’ll do everything to make it right again.

There is a big chance that he’ll even cry during a big fight, especially when you both say things that you don’t really mean. He’s already mentally tired from all his schedules and he can’t stand the fact that he can’t find comfort in the person that he loves the most.

Similarly to Seungcheol, he will never let you take the couch and will never let you leave the house. He’s simply too scared that you might leave him or that something might happen to you and he wouldn’t be able to cope with that.

Even when you fall asleep still angry with each other, during the night, you’ll find your way back to him, cuddling into him.

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childrenofcain-if · 6 months ago

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Yeah, as accomplished and impressive as the mc is, the mc is far from a Mary Sue/Gary Stu. Literally, the scene with V where they try to cook? I cringed when I heard their plans for it (but trying new things is crucial to being good at them). Not to mention other scenes just showing the unbalanced lifestyle (I found Elias asking if the mc had their credit cards to be particularly hilarious) and things they lack. It's not like the mc reaches and touches an extracurricular, and whoops, Bam, Magnus Carlson!

They've also suffered not insignificantly (I can't possibly imagine losing a parent at that young of an age, let alone one you're close to.) And that nosebleed thing must've been a hell of a scare. Also - your reflection looking like that (as in non human or supernatural) would be terrifying. My life isn't notably bad, certainly not all sunshine and rainbows, but if I was offered to become mc and go through all that they will or even all that they have?

Yeah, I think I'll pass. I also think some of it might be people thinking the mc is completely effortless - which I have no idea where they got that - but it's evident while they aren't average in intelligence, they busted their ass off even if they try to play it laidback style. They got the best tutors in the world from a very young age - but that also meant they were using those resources constantly and studying. Not to mention, I think somewhere it's mentioned how mc's time was basically entirely split between studying, extracurriculars, and volunteering.

They're not a god. Just a mortal who had very fortunate resources who worked very, very hard with those resources. Hell, take a normal person with mid resources and have them use that schedule of studying, extracurriculars, and volunteering, and I'd bet they would turn out pretty damn accomplished/impressive too, even if they're not as good as the mc. It's what Richard Feymann said - you can get a normal person to understand quantum physics. They just have to study it well, hard, and for a while.

Yeah, the mc is rich and have quite the privilege, but that doesn't mean they didn't work hard for it and also lost some things in the trade off (mc might know how to cook if they weren't studying "all" the time and took the time to learn, for example)

Mc kind of reminds me of what's referred to as a glass cannon - exceptionally good at one or a few things, but at the severe (and probably unworthy) detriment of being very bad at others. Does mc even know what FAFSA is?

Also, the literal fatal flaw? An actual list? And mc can be as stupid (wisdom stat, not intelligence) and just party all the time.

If anons were going to pick on a character for being "too perfect" then M almost makes more sense. 10 languages, God knows how many instruments, in a good position in HoS, is probably crushing all of their classes, and is majoring in philosophy which can get wildly difficult now and again before toning back down (Nietzche, Kant, and Hegel, probably). Oh, they're also an RA. They to me seem more insane than mc does, even a mc who is designed to be crazy like vocal lessons, two sports, robotics, and debate club, with no burnout. And yet, they are perfectly flawed.

The mc just worked exceptionally hard, is clever, and had literally the best possible resources to get the most bang for their (or rather, Elias's) buck. I think about anyone would - at least - do very well in academia and extracirriculars if they had the best tutors in the world training them in those respective areas from a very young age.

this.

#there are people who have all the resources but make zero efforts #MC is not one of them #if: the ballad of the young gods #interactive fiction #interactive novel #interactive story #twine wip

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gimmebackmyskeeball · 4 months ago

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“Get in mamacita.”

just my hot lil pookie with his curvy crush

pairing(s): jj maybank x latina!pogue!reader

he wanted to scream. scream his ass off. or fuck yours. seriously. he seriously thought one of the science men pope probably would work with in the future should study you. his hormones be hormonin’ too but this was not normal, not in the slightest. he watched as you walked around the house with your shorts that weren’t even goddamn short! what the hell was wrong with him that he couldn’t stop himself from drooling over you every time he saw you? or your ass. and, oh, those hips. he thanked your genes every time he saw you because that figure was worth dying for. or at least he thought so. maybe it had to do with his dry-spell or his newly deceased crush for kiara but…hey, you were hot. that was the only reason he needed.

he admired everything about you. your tastes to your attitude, your habits and your daily schedule. yes, it might sound like he was obsessed with you but it was just a small crush.

small crush, my ass.

okay, maybe he was obsessed with you but everyone would’ve been. he was practically living in the same house with you and he had to see you 24/7, had to calm his urges that just begged him to bend you over somewhere, anywhere and finally do all the stuff he wanted to do to you. while you were completely oblivious to the fact that he was even feeling that way.

“john b, I’m going to the store!” you yelled from inside, your voice triggering his only now growing gentleman senses as he jumped up from the couch, walking next you. “I’m comin’ with ya.” you looked at him, choosing to be the annoyed best friend today. “no, you’re not.” he frowned, “yes, I am.” why were you not wanting him there? were you gonna go see someone? did he embarrassed you in public? let the boy come with you, dammit! you rolled your eyes, not trying your chances anymore, “fine. but you’re drivin’.”

you threw the keys at him as he didn’t missed, catching them. you both walked out the house, him walking behind you to watch you walk. one of his favorite hobbies lately. he quickened his pace, catching up to you to open the van door for you. you climbed in, appreciating his kindness. he got in the drivers seat, driving to the store. you jumped out the seat, looking back at him. “I’ll be right back.” he nodded, listening to you as he stayed in the van. youwent in, grabbing some sodas and chips. it was a movie day with the pogues, your favorite. you wandered around the store before paying —the money barely being enough, pogue problems— and walking out. the smile on his face when you walked out was unhinged. he honked, rolling down his window. “get in, mamacita.” you let out a laugh, opening the door to get back in your seat. “gross…” what can he say? I guess he has to learn spanish pickup lines after all…

srry my ass couldn’t handle this lil fantasy just staying in my fantasies, I had to write it. enjoyy!

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lilimaginebean · 4 months ago

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five days - 五日

synopsis: In which Kaiser fell in love with his tattoo artist, or in which Kaiser has only five appointments to convince you to go on a date with him.

note: hi, hope you enjoy this part and thanks for the support :))

prev | next

🥀 Day 2

"Are you a Bastard München fan?" you asked Kaiser during a break in the session.

He frowned at your question. You thought it was a normal question because he was wearing a team shirt.

"Well, I guess I can say I'm a bit of a fan," he admitted with a shrug, "Have you seen any of their matches?"

"I'm not a fan, so no, never. The only time I watch something of that is during the World Cup," you admitted.

It had been 3 weeks since the last session. Although you'd never admit it, you'd been counting the days until you'd see Kaiser again. But you weren't the only one, Kaiser, being the fool and loser that he was, had also been eagerly awaiting this day. Too bad today's training was too long, so he was unable to take a proper shower and dress up for you. So he entered your studio in his uniform, sweaty and with a messed-up haircut.

"It looks good on you," you admitted, unaware that Kaiser was blushing and trying to cover it up with his hand.

Like last time, he sat there whistling to the song. How could he act as if nothing had happened? When you told him to "shoot" his question, you didn't expect it to hit you like a real bullet. Obviously, you refused his request. The reason? You barely knew him, and you excused yourself by saying you had a busy schedule.

"Isn't it strange?" you finally asked him, "I mean, I rejected you..."

"Oh Liebling you didn't reject me. You rejected my plan, know the difference. You didn't even reject my plan, you said you couldn't because you were busy last month. Lucky for me, it's a new month, right?"

You couldn't keep a straight face at his sly comments.

"But be honest... Why did you turn it down? You said it was because you were overworked, but every time I passed by the studio you were eating your lame veggie sandwich or talking to your clients," Kaiser commented with a grin.

You put your hand to your heart and pretend to be offended by such accusations.

"Okay, first of all, veggie sandwiches cannot be lame. Secondly, I was really busy, apparently you just caught me on my break. And last but not least, we only met a few hours ago before you asked me that. I don't know anything about you, maybe you're a criminal," you said, trying to defend your poor excuse and the veggie sandwiches you used to make so lovingly.

"Oh, that could be so easily solved, Liebling. I am a Bastard München fan, as you can see, and my work might be related to that. My hometown is Berlin. I love crusty bread, dogs and winter. And in my spare time I take long showers, read, think about myself, and when I'm motivated I think about who I'd like to kill," he said unperturbed.

You just stopped doing everything to process all the information he gave to you.

"Well, I wasn't so wrong to think you were a criminal," you said, and took your job back.

"You're too beautiful to be killed, don't worry Liebling, my thoughts of you are anything but killing you," he said confidently, you giggled.

“Oh, how lucky I must be”

“You have no idea” he assured “What about you?”

"Well, as you can see, I work here. I love autumn, promenading and those mouse shaped sweets from the sweet shop. In my spare time I like to stay in my small but cosy apartment. And... we have just finished this session," you said as you stood up and stretched a little.

"You are really talented," Kaiser said smirking at you while admiring the new part of the tattoo

"Tell me something I don’t know. Come on, I have an another appointment in 5 minutes"

You escorted Kaiser to the exit, where he put his black cap and face mask back on. Before he left, he stared at you for a few seconds.

"Now that we know more about each other, would you like to go out with me? Come on Liebling, you know the best way to get to know another person is to go out, you can't expect to know me in just an hour" Kaiser asked as he opened the door

How could he be so convincing? Maybe you weren't sure about the date the last time, but today you really were. Still, you could be a bit of a teaser, and maybe you wanted to see if Kaiser was really interested in you.

"The last time you asked me, you were dressed as the owner of five clubs, and today you ask me out dress like that. Come on, where is this spoilt brat? Michael Kaiser, you can do better," you admitted, giving him a bold look.

He chuckled under his mask.

"You really do have high standards, don't you? Don't worry Liebling, next time you won't have any excuse to refuse me. Trust me".

#bllk imagines #bllk x you #bllk x reader #bluelock x reader #blue lock imagines #michael kaiser #kaiser x y/n #kaiser x you #kaiser x reader

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mylovesstuffs · 3 months ago

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🌧️ | Tumblr Shadowban: My Experience + What You Should Know

Hey everyone! I’ve got quite a few asks about the whole shadowban situation during my shadowban—how I knew, what happened, and how I will know when it's solved etc etc. I didn’t answer right away bc I wasn’t sure how it would play out, but now that I’ve been through it [kinda], here’s a full breakdown of what happened, how I knew, and what I’ve learned after dealing with this mess. Hopefully this helps if you ever find yourself in Tumblr jail like I did lol:

FYI: I’m mostly back from Tumblr jail… BUT I’m still kinda half-ghost cause my tags are still broken. Since I rely on tags for my posts to actually reach people outside my follower list, I’m holding off on bringing my scheduled posts back to the front. So until Tumblr fully resurrects me and fixes this last bit, no new posts for now.

I’ll keep you updated, but for now… I’m still stuck halfway in the shadow realm.

No tags, no posts 😭

Also, everything I’ve shared about this shadowban stuff comes from my own experience dealing with it on my blog these past days, plus things I’ve learned after digging around the internet while I was stuck in the void.

Q: What happened?

Basically, Tumblr shadowbanned me out of nowhere. My blog still existed, but I was pretty much invisible to everyone except my existing followers. So unless you already followed me before the shadowban, you couldn’t see me on your dash, in tags, or anywhere else.

Q: What exactly is a shadowban?

A shadowban on Tumblr means your blog still technically functions and looks normal to you, but Tumblr has made you invisible to everyone else other than your pre-existing followers before the ban. You can post, reblog, and interact, but no one else could see it—unless they already followed you.

Q: How did you realize you were shadowbanned?

Here’s what tipped me off:

My Messages section disappeared on my main blog (but was still there on my side-blog).

I couldn’t DM anyone, but people could still DM me [I just wouldn’t receive the messages].

I noticed a huge drop in notes during this mess. I usually get 99+ notifications within 2-3 hours, but while shadowbanned, it barely hit 50 max because no one outside my followers could see my posts.

I could send asks, but no one would receive them [despite Tumblr saying ‘ask sent’].

I could receive asks, but I couldn't reply for some reason.

My likes/reblogs didn't go through, and my name didn’t appear in the notes section. So my likes + reblog didn't count.

I couldn’t reply or comment on posts at all.

I couldn’t tag anyone and no one could tag me either. It just didn’t work, because they couldn't find me [I didn't exist when I was banned]

My blog + posts didn’t show up in Tumblr search [obv].

My original posts likely didn’t show up on my followers’ dashboards [not sure, but if it did, pls lmk].

However, simple reblogs (without comments or tags) were still visible to my followers.

Q: Who could still see you?

Only my existing followers could still see me. No one outside of them could find me or my content. That’s why they were the only one to discover my shadowban announcement.

Q: Why does this happen?

It could be for a few reasons:

Tumblr flagged your blog as a potential bot or spammer.

Someone mass-reported your blog (even unfairly).

A simple Tumblr glitch (the most common culprit).

Q: How did you fix it?

I contacted Tumblr Support, but funnily enough, they never replied [at least, yet]. Out of nowhere, most functions started working again today, except my tags—they’re still glitchy. Apparently, this is common. Sometimes Tumblr ‘forgets’ to fully unban everything, so things like tags, asks, or replies might still act weird even after the shadowban is mostly lifted.

Q: But wait, tag's still broken?

Yep! While most things are now back to normal, my tags are still buggy. Based on what I’ve read, some people get stuck with broken tags, messages, asks, or replies even after the ban lifts and I happened to be stuck with broken tags. I can use them but they won't be useful for now [but imma still check lol].

Q: How long does it usually take to resolve a shadowban?

It varies a LOT.

For me, it lasted around 2 days before things kinda started going back to normal. But I’ve heard from others that it can take anywhere from a few hours to over a month, depending on how fast Support acts (or if it resolves itself, like mine might have).

My friend, Tiya @gyubakeries is shadowbanned for a few weeks now :( but mine got halfway lifted in just two days [tho, my draft issues still stand]

Some only get fully unbanned after repeated tickets to Support.

Q: What should you do if you’re shadowbanned?

Contact Tumblr Support right away with clear details about what’s happening.

Don’t panic if they don’t reply immediately (or at all).

Avoid spamming multiple tickets—wait 5-7 days before following up.

Feel free to reblog this if you think it’ll help someone else! And thanks to everyone who stuck with me while I was screaming into the void.

⌦ ⛓️ © mylovesstuffs | est. 2025. still fighting my way out of Tumblr jail—your support = lifesaver. until I’m free, stay cozy & keep dreaming! ◜ᴗ◝

#shadowbanned #tumblr shadowban #shadowban help #shadowban test #tumblr help #tumblr rant #mylovesstuffs

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demigodsanswer · 9 days ago

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Loving these canon stories! Super curious about those eleven months trying for Sophia and when they finally find out Annabeth’s pregnant, if you’re feeling it?

I'm actually so stressed about a deadline I'm on that percababies are truly the only thing helping me cling to sanity.

Percy had asked if she wanted him to go into the doctor's visit with her. Annabeth genuinely considered it, but then said no.

"It's just a routine thing," she said, "they might not even let you."

The subtext was, of course: dads can go in for sonograms. Not a dad? No entry.

It was starting to drag them down, the work they were doing to try and have a baby. Most nights, sleeping together out of a sense of obligation, the TV still on.

He caught himself thinking of it as work, and scolded himself, dropping the old magazine he had been looking at back on the pile. It wasn't work. They promised each other they wouldn't think of it as work.

But truth be told, after eleven months, he was starting to get tired of sex. And he knew she was too. The sex was dull. Optimized for conception. When was the last time she'd blown him to completion? Or he'd tied her up? When has they last really played, enjoyed each other, fucked like it meant something? Eleven months ago, he guessed.

Call them crazy, but they thought they'd be pregnant by now. They were young. They were healthy. They were doing everything right. They were each half god, for fucks sake. When had Zeus ever failed to get someone pregnant? Probably would have saved a lot of people a lot of trouble if he ever had.

It was grating on them. They were frustrated with themselves, and on worse days, frustrated with each other. Everything in their lives had become consumed by the kid who wasn't there. Percy felt like he was trapped in that Scared of Virginia Woolf play he'd been forced to act in for his Intro To Theater GenEd in college.

Eleven months. And nothing.

Annabeth scheduled her annual gyno appointment, and asked him to go with her, hoping the gynecologist my have some answers, or something they could do help things along.

When Annabeth stepped out of the room, eyes turned down, with nothing to say but "Lets go home," Percy suspected she hadn't gotten the help she wanted.

The gynecologist's office was in a hospital, meaning they had to walk down long, sterile white halls to find the elevators down and back out onto the street. They only comfort was that they could at least walk home. It was only the early days of November, and the cool air could be a refreshing change from the harshly clean scent of hospital chemicals.

"What did she say?" Percy asked, reaching for her hand and finding it. Instead of just holding his hand, though, she pulled him to stop, and then pressed her torso to his, waiting for him to wrap her up in his arms.

She might have been crying; he couldn't tell. Annabeth was good at crying quietly when she wanted to. Although, if there was anywhere where she could cry loudly and without judgement, it was probably the hospital.

"She didn't have any answers. Just said these things take time. But given our age, if we get past a year, it's not a bad idea to do some fertility tests. They'd test you first probably, since that's easier." She said all of this into his shoulder, her voice low as if it was a secret.

"Okay," Percy said, rubbing her back. "That doesn't sound too bad."

Annabeth pulled away and started walking towards the elevators again. "It is bad," she insisted, "it means we're almost past what would be normal. It means something's probably wrong."

She got to the elevator before him and pressed the button.

"So if something is wrong -- and it might not be -- we just figure out what to do about it," Percy said. "Why don't we go do something fun?" He tried. "We can go get margaritas?"

Annabeth looked at him like he'd gone completely crazy, and then she softened a little. "I'm sorry, I'm not mad at you. I just ... I want to go home."

"Okay," Percy said, pulling her in close as they entered the elevator and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Let's do that."

At home, Annabeth fell asleep almost instantly, strung out, warn out, and drop dead tired. Percy cuddled her, staying away for a little bit longer and breathing in the scent of her hair. But before long, he fell asleep too, pretty tired himself.

When he woke up, Annabeth wasn't in bed with him. He rolled over and saw her standing in the bathroom, the door open, her curling iron in hand, wearing only her bra and panties.

And they weren't just any bra and panties. They were her fancy undies, the lacy black ones she wore under her fancy clothes. Neither of them were particularly sophisticated people, but as one of the most promising young architects in the city, Annabeth found herself in sophisticated places with sophisticated people. And Percy was her arm candy.

"Are we going some where?" Percy asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Had he forgotten about some party they had?

"I got Piper to pull some strings and get us into that Omakase place we liked," Annabeth explained. "Our reservation is at seven."

His watch told him it was five, but the place was a bit of a trek to get to on the subway. They'd have to leave in about an hour.

"Fun," Percy said, not sure how sushi was much different from his margaritas suggestion. At least at the Mexican place he didn't need to wear a sports coat.

"You were right," Annabeth said, walking over and getting in the bed. Dangerous. Percy rested his hands on the backs of her thighs as she knelt on the mattress. "I just feel like we need to pause. Do the fun stuff we want to do again." Percy's hands roamed higher. The lace of her bra was a little see-through.

If they stopped the clock now, then they wouldn't hit a year of trying, he realized. They wouldn't have to confront the scary things right away. That maybe wasn't healthy. But then again, learning to enjoy their life again probably was healthy. And he could start enjoying her right now.

"I couldn't agree more," he said. "Your hair looks pretty." Princess curls, perfectly arranged, turning golden from the loss of bright sun already.

"Thanks," she said. And then her eyes narrowed at him, suspicious. She curled her fingers around his and then pressed his hands over his head into the mattress, pinning him. "You want to mess it up, don't you?"

"So bad," he confessed.

Annabeth leaned in and kissed him hard, keeping him pressed down onto his back. "No way. I worked way to hard on it," she said. And Percy knew how much she hated dealing with her hair. She stood up, balanced carefully on the plush mattress, one leg on either side of him, and slipped her panties down. She carefully got them off from around her ankles, all while Percy stared up at her. She smirked at him when he licked his lips. "Can't have you ruining those either. Nothing else looks good under the dress I want to wear."

"You could always go commando," Percy reminded her as she sat back down, straddling his hips. He put his hands on her hips this time, trying to coax her up, up, up --

"Maybe next time," she said, before finally crawling up to rest herself on his face.

She hadn't ridden him in months. It was sub-optimal, the pamphlets said. But it was pretty great sex. Already, Percy was starting to feel normal again, like his life with his wife wasn't just about routine, optimized fucking. It was about so much more. Like using his water powers to help her clean up afterwards so she didn't need to worry about cum stains on anything expensive.

By the time they left the apartment (on time, remarkably, and with Percy in a sports coat. Again, remarkable), Annabeth was smiling, satisfied, and clinging to his arm.

Dinner came with course after course of raw fish and sake. Small pleasures Annabeth had agreed to give up for their family, but that she didn't need to surrender just yet. For the first time in weeks, he saw her genuinely smile, her wide eye-to-eye grin he loved so much. And he made her laugh. Six time! He'd started counting.

Maybe she was manic, or on the verge of some serious break down, Percy considered. But he felt happy too. For the first time in weeks the looming one-year mark of when they started trying wasn't weighing on them. They were taking a break from all of that, and getting back to themselves. Maybe Sake Bombs weren't the healthiest way to do that, but it was certainly the most fun way.

On their walk home, Annabeth ducked into a liquor store and picked out their favorite bottle of sparkling wine, the same one they'd served at their wedding. It wasn't an expensive bottle. Actually it was under $15, but they loved it. Back in the apartment, they drank it before and after making love again. And even a little bit during, although mostly, what Annabeth tried to drink spilled down between her breasts as she bounced on him. Percy just pulled himself up off his back to lick it off her skin.

When the bottle was gone, they were in the dangerous area of drunk where raiding their liquor cabinet seemed like a good idea. On top of all of it, they raw dogged a couple of tequila shots each, and then blasted ABBA for a dance party.

They got half way to another round of sex, before passing out on each other. They woke up sticky, sweaty, hungover, and the happiest they'd been in a long time.

~ One month later ~

Annabeth's periods were clockwork. She knew the day it was due to arrive, and knew it usually liked to show up over night. She'd gone to bed with a pad on, anticipating it's arrival, but in the morning she just stared at the clean cotton and shrugged. Maybe if she acted indifferent, she wouldn't get her hopes up. She pulled her panties back on, leaving the pad in place, sure her period would arrive on the subway ride to work or some equally inconvenient moment.

She didn't bother telling Percy that she was mere hours late. He'd already left for teaching by the time she got up, and anyway, it wasn't likely to stay late.

But when she got home, the pad was still clean. She threw it out, showered, and put on another one.

"You got your period?" Percy asked when she got out of the shower.

"Huh?" She asked.

"I took out the bathroom trash," he explained.

"Oh," she said. "I haven't actually. I'm just ... anticipating."

Percy looked a bit confused. "When's it due?"

"Today," she said, pulling on one of his old tee shirts for bed. "It'll probably come over night."

Percy shrugged, but she held up her hand to stop him from saying anything.

"Alright, I won't say anything," he said, doing his best to not even smile. "Do you want a glass of wine?" He offered.

Smart move, she thought. She considered saying yes, just to really dig her heals in.

"No, I'm okay," Annabeth said.

Percy smiled, and held his arms out to her. She climbed into his embrace. And then he slid his hand into her panties.

"I don't think your period is coming," Percy said as they cleaned up after.

"What makes you so confident?" Annabeth asked.

"You usually taste really coppery right before and after. You didn't taste like that tonight," he explained.

Annabeth stared at him blankly, not sure how to process any part of that information. "That's so ... insanely intimate."

"Good intimate?" He asked with his cute, little insecure face.

"Yeah," Annabeth said, pulling him in. "Crazy how well you know me."

"I don't think it's crazy," was all Percy said. "I just love you."

Annabeth kissed him until he smiled. "I love you too," she promised.

It was Saturday, which meant they could both sleep in a little. Percy really took advantage, and slept past nine. Annabeth wiggled out of his tight cuddle, and went to the bathroom.

When she came back, Percy was half awake. "Did you take a pregnancy test?" He asked.

The first pee of the day was supposed to be the most reliable.

"No," Annabeth said.

She could tell that he was trying hard not to look disappointed. "Oh, did you get your --"

"No," Annabeth said quickly. She hadn't. There was no bleeding this morning either.

"Why didn't you --"

Annabeth didn't have a good answer for him. She'd stood, staring at the box until she was really desperate, and then gave up.

"You know how in college, if you had an assignment you were really worried about, you'd put it off until the night before? So that if you got a bad grade you could say 'whatever, I did it the night before'?" She asked him.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

She crawled back under the covers. When she got out of bed for real an hour later, to the smell of Percy making blueberry pancakes, she still hadn't started her period.

Percy forced himself to wake up before her the next morning, Sunday or not. She'd fallen asleep completely naked last night, worn out after round after round. Her leg was tossed over his, her center, warm and still a bit sticky was pressed to his upper thigh. Percy lifted her leg. No blood. No blood on the sheets either. Nothing.

He smiled, as Annabeth mumbled something about letting her sleep.

"You didn't get your period," Percy said to her.

Annabeth pulled herself to sitting.

"You're not going to let me get through today without taking a test, are you?" She asked.

"I'd prefer not to," Percy confessed. "Come on, I won't be mad at you --"

"I'll be mad at me," Annabeth said.

"Why?" Percy asked. "You're not doing anything wrong."

"But I'm not doing it right, either," Annabeth said.

"There isn't a right or wrong way," Percy countered.

"If I take the damn test, will you leave me alone?" She snapped at him.

Percy frowned. She'd been so happy the last few weeks. They'd all together given up optimized positions at optimized times, in favor of doing it however they wanted whenever they wanted. Which was often. Now that sex felt like fun again, they could barely be pulled off each other. But now she was back to that sad, bummed out Annabeth he hated to see.

"Sure," he said. "I'll go make us some coffee."

He started to get out of bed, but she grabbed his hand to stop him. "I'm sorry," she said. There were tears in her eyes. "I didn't mean to get mad at you."

Percy scooted closer to her. "It's okay," he said, wrapping her up in a tight hug. She started to sob. Percy just rubbed her back.

Her voice squeaked out her fears and anxieties to Percy -- that they couldn't have kids, that it'd be her fault, that he'd hate her, or be mad at her, and that it had gotten too hard to keep getting her hopes up, only for them to be dashed every time.

"I could never hate you," Percy promised. "I know this is hard. It's hard for me too. I feel all of those things too. But what matters is it's you and me, right? We'll figure it out."

Annabeth nodded. "I just love you so much!"

"I love you too," he said, squeezing her tight and feeling his own eyes go a little misty. "We don't need to do the pregnancy test if you're not ready."

Annabeth shook her head again.

"No, no, we should," Annabeth said, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. "It's just ... if it's negative, I think I'll spend all day in bed, if that's okay?"

Percy kissed her gently. "I'll stay in bed with you," he promised.

"Alright," she said, wiping her face and looking determined. "Let's do this."

The three minutes passed in slow agony. They tried everything they could think of to make the time go faster. Who could name the most Greek heroes? They ran out after 45 seconds. How's that snot nosed student you hate getting on in class? Percy's rant barely last fifteen seconds. His heart wasn't in it. Making out? Well. They got them through the last two minutes pretty well. But when the timer dinged, they jumped apart.

Annabeth could feel her heart racing. Percy's hand was resting on her hip, holding her close.

Something was different this time, she could tell. It had to be ...

"One ..." they counted, "two," Percy grabbed the test and held it up, the answer facing away from them.

They didn't get to three. Annabeth had bought the fancy digital ones for minimal confusion, and backwards in the mirror, she could see their answer.

Annabeth thought her heart might beat out of her chest, and she could already see the tears welling in her eyes, blurring the world in front of her.

She took the test from Percy's hand and flipped it around so he could see it too.

Pregnant.

"We're having a baby," he said, his voice steady and disbelieving as the tears started running down her face. And then he repeated it, more excited, louder, and compensating for the fact that all Annabeth could do was sob happy sobs.

Her feet were off the ground. Percy had picked her up in his excitement. She wrapped her legs around him and let him carry her back to the bed, muffling a combination of cheers and sobs in his shoulder, getting snot all over him in the process.

When he put her down, her back on the bed, Percy hovering over her, her legs still wrapped around his hips, she could see that he was crying. She reached up to wipe away his tears, and he did the same for her.

Annabeth moved her hand from his cheeks to his hair, and pulled him back down to meet her mouth again.

"I told you so," he said to her between kisses.

Annabeth could even protest. All she could do was kiss him, cry, and then kiss him some more.

#percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth #percababies #future canon #my writing #the who's afraid of virginia wolf joke is my favorite

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