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Standard broaches - Maheen Broaches
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Best Broaches in India with best steel used to make it perfect for your work.
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Holding an ambient dread in me today. There’s always the scramble to try and figure out what’s causing it for me, especially because I’ve got no internal monologue and I often have to talk out loud and in depth into every little thing that’s happened just to figure out why my feelings are the way they are.
Admittedly I can think of a few things, but they’re not particularly important in the long run. My tendency is to figure out why as if it’ll solve it, or so I can intellectualize the feelings away, but emotions are so rarely cut-and-clean addressed like that. Having been so preoccupied with my past in the past, or dreading the future, it’s grounding to settle down and have moments of silence in the present. I’m on the couch typing this on my phone, the sunset is shining down on my face, whereas usually I’d hate it I’m just letting myself sit in it. Once I’ve figured out a few potential causes, it’s not that important to dive deeper and think myself into anxiety spirals. It’s okay to have an idea of it, and not rationalize away how you’re feeling. It’s okay to feel off, sometimes.
#introspection#it me#I think my main thing at least today is holding very little good will for others#I’m struck by how selfish and ignorant and outright malicious people can be#but it’s not as if I’m any arbiter of people’s behavior no?#on the one hand acknowledge how people are flawed and morally complicated in their actions#on the other hand acknowledge that I myself am also only human and that I don’t owe any grace or forgiveness to others either#and acknowledge that I extend a level of empathy to others that isn’t always warranted or fair#(what is fairness anyway?? lolol big question for another day)#basically yeah people are complicated and you’re not an impartial judge#but also you’re not supposed to be. You’re just an individual and you’re allowed to hold bad opinions of people#I say a lot but the best thing you can do for yourself is let go of the idea of universal fairness/standard of good as judged by others#and let yourself also be complicated and flawed and extend even a fraction of the empathy you grant others for yourself#I’m also very aware that my avoidant tendencies latch onto any perceived flaw in a person to justify my distance and that’s me personally#so it’s a balancing act of how much good will do I extend this person to make up for what I know is a flawed tendency in myself#and also knowing when to let it go and let myself justifiably dislike somebody#ANYWAY it’s not just people hating I also miss home and some other personal stuff has been on my mind#but it’s easier to vent this out in the notes as introspection as there’s an easier internal discussion to have on this#as opposed to more touchy and hard to broach topics like culture and intersectionality#and the flaw of communities whose individualistic tendencies make them festering pits more than any community outreach they attempt to be#the sun has set by now as I’ve word vomited in the tags#and I do feel better for it all
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03 | EVERYTHING IS AWESOME…
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The night was calm, as far as Gotham standards went. Dick leapt across rooftops with practiced ease, the crisp night air cooling the sweat on his brow. Patrol had been fairly routine so far—an attempted mugging here, a couple of carjackers there. But even as he flipped and fought, his mind was elsewhere.
You.
Why was it that for the past few days, he couldn’t seem to catch you for even a moment? Every time he stopped by the manor, Alfred had the same response: Miss (Name) is out at the moment, Master Richard.
Out? Out where?
He’d pressed Alfred for more details the first time, but the butler’s polite smile and vague responses left him with more questions than answers.
He ducked under a clumsy swing from a thug, twisting his attacker’s wrist and disarming him in one fluid motion. Were you avoiding him? The idea gnawed at him, even though he tried to dismiss it. Surely you wouldn’t do that. Not to him. Right?
But the signs were starting to feel undeniable. You answer his texts hours later, and even those were short and simple. Most of his calls went straight to voicemail and when you do pick up, it was to say that you couldn’t talk right now. Whenever he asked anyone in the family about you, they either gave noncommittal answers or shrugged. Even Damian had been uncharacteristically tight-lipped when Dick had broached the topic with him. That, more than anything, felt like a red flag.
Had the two of you not reconciled yet?
What did you two even argue about to get to this point? Damian wouldn’t tell him anything no matter how much he bugged him.
The thought made his chest tighten uncomfortably. Did he do something? Say something? He ran through every interaction he’d had with you in recent memory, trying to pinpoint where things might’ve gone wrong. But nothing came to mind. You’d always seemed fine, maybe a little quieter than usual, but he’d chalked that up to you being tired. Gotham took its toll on everyone eventually.
Still, the nagging doubt lingered. The idea that you might be avoiding him on purpose—it didn’t sit right. You were family. He thought he’d always made that clear (he did right?), that you could come to him about anything. So why did it feel like you were slipping away? Did he not make it clear enough? (did he even make it clear?)
Dick pushed off the railing, his footsteps echoing as he started pacing again. He didn’t like this feeling. He needed to figure out what was going on. What had changed? And why did it feel like you were determined to keep him at arm’s length?
“What’s got your panties in a twist?”
He knocked the thug out with a quick jab to the jaw and spun around to check on Jason, who was dealing with the last of the group. His voice, distorted slightly by the modulator in his helmet.
Jason, of course, was handling them with his usual… flair. A solid punch here, a sharp kick there, and the thugs were down for the count in no time. As Jason holstered his pistol, he glanced over at Dick, tilting his head slightly as though sizing him up.
Dick let out a sarcastic laugh, shaking his head. “Haha. Very funny.”
Jason lets out an audible scoff. Even though his face was obscured by his helmet, Dick could practically feel the eye roll.
“So?” Jason drawled, crossing his arms as he leaned against a lamppost. “Are you gonna speak up or what?”
Dick just sighs as he puts away his escrima sticks.
“It’s about (name).”
“What? She messed up again or something?”
Dick’s head snapped toward him, his brow furrowing. “What? No. Why would you even—”
Jason shrugged, kicking at the unconscious body of one of the thugs as if to test if he was really out cold. “I dunno. She’s always messing something up, isn’t she? And you have to clean up after her. At least, that’s the vibe I get.”
Dick’s shoulders tensed, a sharp frustration bubbling to the surface. “Jason, seriously?”
Jason raised his hands in mock surrender. “What? I’m just saying—”
“No, you’re not ‘just saying,’” Dick interrupted, his voice sharper than he intended. “This is exactly why I’m worried. You guys act like she’s just… this screw-up, like she’s some annoyance you have to deal with, and it’s not fair.”
Jason tilted his head, clearly surprised by the outburst. “Okay, hold on. Where’s this coming from?”
Dick sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He leaned against a nearby wall, staring out over the dimly lit alleyway. “(Name) quit being Batgirl.”
Jason visibly froze for a split second at Dick’s words, the tension in his stance betraying his surprise. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared. He let out a scoff, straightening up and crossing his arms. “Okay. And?”
Dick blinked at him, momentarily thrown off. “What do you mean, ‘Okay, and?’” he asked, incredulous. “(Name) quit, Jason. (Name). The girl who literally begged B and Babs to let her become Batgirl. She didn’t just want it; she fought for it. And now—”
“And now she’s finally done being a liability in a cape,” Jason interrupted, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Honestly, Grayson, shouldn’t you be happy about it?”
Dick’s breath hitched, the bluntness of the statement striking a nerve. He opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out. He hated to admit it, but a part of him—the small, cruel voice he always tried to silence—had whispered something similar when he first heard the news.
Jason, noticing the brief flicker of hesitation on Dick’s face, took that as his cue to keep going. “I mean, come on. She’s not cut out for this life, and you know it. You’re just too polite to say it out loud. So, good for her. She’s finally realized what the rest of us already knew.”
Dick was silent, his jaw tightening as Jason’s words hung heavy in the air. He didn’t want to agree, not even a little. But the doubt had already been planted, and Jason’s callousness only made it worse.
“No,” Dick said finally, his voice firm. He shook his head, as though trying to rid himself of the thought entirely. “Don’t call her a liability, Jay. And that’s not the point. She quit, yeah, but she’s been distant ever since. When she had this huge fight with Damian—”
Jason snorted. “Probably demon spawn’s fault.”
“Don’t say that,” Dick snapped, frowning at him. “It’s no one’s fault, Jason. They probably weren’t in the right headspace and let their emotions get the better of them.”
Jason rolled his eyes. “Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Dick ignored the jab, his focus still on you and the unanswered questions swirling in his mind. He wasn’t going to let Jason’s cynicism—or his own creeping doubts—stop him. Whatever was going on, he’d figure it out. And more importantly, he’d make sure you knew that he cared, no matter what anyone else thought.
Dick sighed, running a hand down his face. “Jay, come on.”
Jason turned to him, arms crossing defensively. “Seriously, what the hell do you want me to do, Dick?”
“I don’t know! Go talk to her or something!” Dick snapped, exasperation lacing his tone.
Jason gave him a flat, unimpressed look. “Oh, right. Like she’d talk to me of all people. Great plan, genius.”
Dick threw up his hands in frustration, his patience quickly wearing thin. “Come on. What’s your deal?”
Jason paused, the question clearly catching him off guard. “Excuse me?” His voice dropped a notch, low and warning.
But Dick didn’t care about the edge in Jason’s tone or the way his posture screamed “back off.” He was too fed up, too worried, and too frustrated to stop now. “No, seriously,” Dick pressed, stepping closer. “It’s like you don’t even care about (Name).”
Jason’s whole body tensed, his fists clenching at his sides. Dick could practically feel the anger rolling off him in waves.
“What?” Jason snapped, his voice rising. “So you want her to keep wearing a mask and fight battles she clearly can’t handle? You want her to keep throwing herself into situations where she’s gonna get herself killed? That’s what caring looks like to you?”
Dick stepped forward, his own frustration boiling over. “This isn’t about whether or not she’s wearing a mask! This is about you acting like you don’t give a damn about her!”
Jason let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, so now you’re the expert on what I feel? That’s rich coming from you.”
“I thought you two were close, Jason,” Dick shot back, his voice tight with barely controlled anger. “What happened? You used to care about her. You used to look out for her!”
Jason scoffed, the sound harsh and bitter. “What happened? Life happened, Dick. I’m not the same 15-year-old boy she knew back then. And I’ll never be that guy she knew again. So don’t stand there and act like you have any right to talk about my relationship with her when I don’t see you even having half of what me and her had before.”
That struck a nerve, and Dick’s jaw tightened. “You think I don’t care about her?” he asked, his voice low and steady now, the anger simmering beneath the surface.
Jason’s helmet tilted slightly, as if he was sizing Dick up. “Oh, you care, alright. But not enough to actually see what’s in front of you. She tries too hard, she’s always second guessing herself, and honestly? It’s exhausting to watch. Whereas you’re too busy running around trying to ‘fix’ everything to even notice.”
Dick flinched, the words cutting deeper than he wanted to admit. “That’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair,” Jason shot back, stepping closer, his voice dripping with bitterness. “But here’s the thing—you want her to keep being Batgirl because it makes you feel better. Like you’re holding this family together or something. But did you ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe, she quit because she wants to?” He gestured vaguely at their surroundings. “And instead of giving her the space to do that, you’re chasing her down like she’s some mission you need to complete.”
Jason’s words hit Dick like a slap in the face, leaving him momentarily stunned.
“I’m just trying to help her,” Dick said softly, his voice losing some of its fire.
Jason sighed, running a hand through his hair, finally removing his helmet. His face was set in a hard expression, but there was something raw in his eyes. “Yeah, well, sometimes helping means knowing when to back the hell off.”
The two of them stood in tense silence, the night air heavy with unspoken words. Finally, Jason stepped back, shaking his head. “If you want to do something for her, stop acting like you know what’s best for her. I’d rather see her alive than rotting as a damn corpse, labelled as one of the old man’s fallen soldiers.”
With that, Jason turned and walked away, leaving Dick standing there, the weight of the conversation pressing heavily on his shoulders.
The thugs were all rounded up and still unconscious, whereas Jason was out of sight. But his words lingered in Dick’s mind, playing on a loop.
I’d rather see her alive than rotting as a damn corpse.
Dick sighed, sitting on the edge of the rooftop. His escrima sticks rested loosely in his hands as he stared down at the empty streets below. Jason’s parting words had hit their mark, and he hated to admit it. The thought of you… dying—just the word alone made his stomach churn.
Jason had already died once, and Dick hadn’t been there to stop it. He hadn’t been there to save him. If the same thing happened to you, if you ended up another casualty in their endless war against Gotham’s darkness…
That’s on him.
He swallowed hard, gripping his escrima sticks tighter as guilt began to settle in his chest like a lead weight. Jason was right. It was probably a good thing you quit. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he let another one of his siblings die.
Siblings.
The word felt heavy now, laden with unspoken truths. Jason’s earlier jab suddenly clawed its way to the forefront of Dick’s mind:
Don’t stand there and act like you have any right to talk about my relationship with her when I don’t see you even having half of what me and her had before.
Did Jason really believe that? Did you?
He shook his head, trying to dismiss the thought. Of course, he cared about you. Of course, he’d been there for you. Hadn’t he?
But as much as he wanted to dismiss Jason’s words, they stuck with him, gnawing at the edges of his conscience. Slowly, memories began to surface, unbidden and relentless.
He was Robin then—young, brash, and full of anger. The grief over his parents’ deaths was still fresh, a raw wound he didn’t know how to heal. And you… you were Bruce’s kid. That was all he saw you as. He watched you grow up, become this bubbly kid, who, for some reason, looked up to him a lot.
But what did he do with that? He bailed.
He could remember it so clearly now, those moments when you’d ask him to play with you, to just talk—and he’d brush you off. “Not now, (Name),” he’d say, and ruffle your hair. The Teen Titans needed him. Gotham needed him. But you didn’t know that. Bruce wanted to keep you out of this life, and frankly, he did too. Which was why there was always some excuse to explain why he was so busy, why he couldn’t play with you for as long as you wanted him to.
He winced as another memory came rushing back: one of the many times you’d waited up for him in the living room, hoping to show him some new arts and craft you did, or one of your tests that you did really well in. He’d walked in with Wally and Donna, laughing about something from their latest mission, barely sparing you a glance.
“Wow, this is nice!” He’d say absent-mindedly, before ruffling your hair like you were some kid tagging along.
“I’ll catch you later, alright?” he’d say, and then he’d leave you alone.
And what had you done? You’d nodded, forced a smile, even as disappointment flashed across your face. He hadn’t noticed it then—not really. He’d been too caught up in his own world, too focused on proving himself to the team, to Bruce, to everyone.
Dick let out a shaky breath, the weight of those memories settling over him like a suffocating blanket. God, Jason was right.
He hadn’t been there for you the way Jason had. Jason, for all his faults, had always been someone you could count on when he first came to the family—someone who didn’t bail, who didn’t make you feel lonely.
But that was before his death. Now things were different between you two. Neither of you were willing to repair the broken bond you two once shared. Why? He wasn’t sure.
Dick rubbed a hand over his face, the ache in his chest growing sharper. “Damnit,” he muttered under his breath.
What could he even do to make this right? To show you that you mattered to him—that you’d always mattered?
But deep down, he already knew the answer. He couldn’t fix this with mere words or gestures or even the best intentions. He had to show you, prove to you, that he was here for you now. That he wasn’t going to leave you alone this time.
Even if that meant letting you go for now, giving you the space you clearly needed. Even if that meant accepting that you no longer wanted to be Batgirl, that he’d fallen short. But he was willing to do better. Even if it meant he’d had to wait.
The thought hurt, but it was better than losing you for good.
“This is nice.”
The warm sunlight filtered through the trees at Gotham Park, casting dappled patterns across the picnic blanket. Caitlyn was leaned against you, her sketchpad balanced on her knees, pencil gliding smoothly as she doodled. Adrien sat cross-legged across from you both, stuffing another bite of a homemade pastry into his mouth with an exaggerated hum of delight.
Adrien nodded enthusiastically, agreeing with Caitlyn, as he pointed his fork at you. “You can say that again! (Name), I didn’t know you could make treats like this! They’re so good!”
Caitlyn grinned, glancing up from her sketch. “Literally! This is amazing. You’ve been holding out on us, chef.”
Your cheeks flushed, and you looked down at your hands, a little bashful at their praise. “I… honestly didn’t think I could make anything this good,” you admitted, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.
“You’re kidding, right?” Adrien said, picking up another cookie. “These are, like, professional-level good. If you ever decide to stop… uh, doing whatever it is you do after school, you could totally open a bakery or something.”
You laughed, though the comment stung just a little—only because you didn’t know you were good at making pasteries.
To fill up your now free schedule after quiting as Batgirl, you had gone to Alfred and asked him to teach you how to bake.
Alfred, helpful and patient as always, agreed without hesitation. “Baking, my dear,” he had said with a faint smile, “is both a science and an art. It requires precision, but it is also a most rewarding endeavor.”
And so, your evenings became a blend of warmth, flour-dusted counters, and Alfred’s gentle guidance. He would show you how to knead dough, measure ingredients with precision, and even share some of his most guarded recipes—ones he claimed even your father was particularly fond of.
When you weren’t in the kitchen with Alfred, you spent your afternoons at the library with Caitlyn and Adrien. Studying with them, or rather, helping them study, had become another way to fill your time.
High school material was easy enough for you—thanks to your first life. You’d already tackled algebra, chemistry, and history years ago. So instead of cramming for tests yourself, you found yourself explaining concepts to Caitlyn and Adrien, who both leaned heavily on your ability to simplify even the most convoluted topics.
“Okay, so… if x is equal to 4, then y has to be…” Adrien tapped his pencil against his notebook, staring intently at the equation in front of him
“Eight,” Caitlyn supplied confidently, but her grin faltered when Adrien and you both gave her a look.
“Try again,” you said with a soft laugh, pointing to the part of the equation she’d miscalculated.
Caitlyn groaned dramatically, flopping back into her chair. “Math is dumb.”
“Math is logical,” you corrected, though your teasing tone made Adrien snort. “You just need to stop skipping steps.”
“Why does it feel like you’re giving us the cheat sheet to life?” Adrien said, glancing up from his notes. “You make this stuff seem so easy.”
“Yeah, seriously,” Caitlyn chimed in. “Are you secretly some kind of math genius or something?”
You shrugged, trying to play it off. “I’ve just… always been good at this kind of thing.”
They didn’t need to know the full truth—that you’d already gone through high school. They didn’t know the truth about you or your family before, and you weren’t planning to change that now. They didn’t need to know about the mask you’d taken off or the life you were trying to leave behind. For now, it was enough to help them, to enjoy their company, and to let this simpler version of your life unfold.
It was strange, almost surreal, how quickly you’d settled into this new routine. But you found that you didn’t mind it. For the first time in a long time, life felt… normal. And maybe that was what you needed most.
As Caitlyn returned to her doodling and Adrien polished off another pastry, you leaned back on your hands, letting the moment sink in. It felt… peaceful. A rare pocket of calm in the chaos that had been your life lately.
The park was lively but not overwhelming, the gentle hum of laughter and chatter from other families and friends creating a soothing backdrop. The late afternoon sun warmed your skin, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt grounded.
“Hey,” Adrien said suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts. “We should do this more often.”
Caitlyn nodded. “Agreed. This is probably the most relaxed I’ve seen you in weeks, (Name).”
You hesitated, glancing between your two friends. They weren’t wrong. But a part of you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. You weren’t being truthful to them, yet they were still being so nice. You didn’t deserve them.
You opened your mouth to reply, ready to brush off Caitlyn’s and Adrien’s comments, when a sudden, sharp flash of green invaded your vision. It was jarring—so vivid and overwhelming that you winced, instinctively bringing a hand to your temple. For a moment, it felt like the world tilted on its axis, the vibrant sounds of the park muffled by the ringing in your ears.
And just as quickly as it came, it was gone.
You blinked, your heart racing as you tried to make sense of what had just happened. The green was seared into your memory, the edges of it glowing like embers before fading entirely. The momentary pain in your head vanished, leaving behind nothing but confusion.
“What the hell…” you muttered under your breath, still dazed.
“(Name)!” Caitlyn’s voice was sharp with concern, snapping you out of your stupor. “Are you okay? What just happened?”
Adrien leaned closer, his eyes wide with worry. “You winced. Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?”
You glanced between the two of them, their faces etched with genuine concern. You didn’t want to worry them. You couldn’t worry them. So you forced a laugh, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s nothing, really. Just a headache. Probably didn’t drink enough water or something.”
But Caitlyn wasn’t buying it. She immediately pushed herself off you, her sketchbook forgotten as she leaned in close, her expression dead serious. “Nope. No way. If you’ve got a headache, you need to go home and rest. Sun’s probably not helping either.”
“Yeah, seriously,” Adrien chimed in, nodding emphatically. “Don’t push yourself too much. We can always continue this another time, okay?”
You tried to protest, but their stubbornness left no room for argument. Caitlyn was already packing up the picnic, her movements quick and decisive, while Adrien carefully wrapped up the leftover pastries.
“You guys are being dramatic—” you started to say, but Caitlyn cut you off with a pointed glare.
“Nope. Not hearing it. We’re not taking any chances,” she insisted, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Come on, we’ll walk you home.”
A sigh escaped your lips as you realized there was no point in fighting them on this. “Alright, alright. I’ll go.”
As the three of you made your way out of the park, Caitlyn clinging protectively to your arm, your thoughts drifted back to the green flashes. What the hell was that? It wasn’t just a headache—that much you knew.
You forced a smile as Caitlyn began chattering about her latest art project, Adrien throwing in jokes to lighten the mood. But in the back of your mind, the unsettling image of green light lingered, pulsing faintly like a warning you couldn’t ignore.
You finally managed to convince Caitlyn and Adrien to leave you at the gates of Wayne Manor, reassuring them for what felt like the hundredth time that you’d be fine. They only relented when you promised to text them once you’re feeling better, and with a wave and one last concerned glance, they finally left. You sighed in relief and turned toward the manor, making your way inside.
When you stepped inside, that’s when you saw him—a familiar, bubbly boy practically skipping towards the manor entrance. Jon Kent. Superman’s son. Damian’s best (and only) friend.
Wow. He looked so much younger than you remembered.
The moment Jon spotted you, his face lit up. Before you could even blink, he was flying over to you, his grin wide and infectious. “(Name)!” he called cheerfully as he landed in front of you, his feet barely making a sound on the gravel path.
You blinked, startled but unable to help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Hey, Jon.”
“How are you? Are you okay? You look okay! Wait—were you out? Where did you go? Do you need help carrying anything?!” He practically bounced on his heels as he bombarded you with questions, his usual excited energy radiating off him like sunlight.
You chuckled fondly, shaking your head as you answered. “I’m fine, Jon, really. And no, I don’t need help. I was just out with some friends.”
“Oh, okay!” he chirped, looking momentarily reassured. “I was just here hanging out with Damian, but—uh, well…” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, his cheeks turning a little pink. “I kinda didn’t tell my parents I was flying over here. So, you know, I should probably head back to Metropolis before they notice I’m gone.”
You snorted softly at that, a nostalgic warmth in your chest. “Your secret’s safe with me. I’ll pretend I didn’t see you.” You said, and winked.
Jon’s grin returned in full force, but it faltered slightly as he looked at you again. This time, his expression was hesitant, uncertain, like he was trying to figure out how to say something.
“What’s wrong?” you asked gently, tilting your head at him.
Jon shuffled his feet, his voice quieter now. “Uh… can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
He hesitated again, looking down before blurting out, “Is everything okay between you and Damian?”
You froze. The question caught you completely off guard. Your mind stalled, your smile faltering as you stared at him, wide-eyed and stunned.
Jon must’ve noticed, because he immediately panicked, waving his hands frantically as he backtracked. “Oh! You don’t have to answer! Forget I asked! It’s just—” He fumbled over his words, his cheeks turning red. “I was asking Damian about you, and he… he kinda just glared at me. And then he changed the subject! Really fast! Like, super fast. And, uh… I’ve never really seen him act like that before.”
You blinked, his words sinking in slowly. Damian… avoiding the subject of you? Now that you thought about it, you hadn’t exactly seen Damian around the manor since that argument in your room. It was like he was going out of his way to avoid you entirely. Was he?
But you couldn’t let Jon worry about that. He was just a kid, and this wasn’t his problem. So, instead of letting your own thoughts spiral, you forced a laugh and reached out to ruffle his hair gently. “Don’t worry about it, Jon. Damian and I just got into an argument, that’s all. Nothing to lose sleep over.”
Jon blinked up at you, his expression still unsure, but he nodded slowly, leaning into the comforting touch of your hand. “Okay… if you say so.”
“Really. We’ll work it out,” you reassured him, giving his hair one last affectionate pat. Somehow.
He smiled again, though it was a little smaller this time. “Alright. I just wanted to make sure. You know… you’re important to Damian too, even if he doesn’t say it.”
You paused at that, something in your chest squeezing painfully, but before you could respond, Jon glanced at the time and jolted upright. “Oh no! I really gotta go now, or I’m so dead!”
With that, he gave you a hurried wave, his boyish grin returning. “Bye, (Name)! I’ll see you soon, okay?”
You smiled softly and waved back as he floated up into the sky, watching as he zipped off toward Metropolis in a blur of red and blue. Once he was gone, you let out a slow breath, your hand falling to your side as your thoughts drifted back to Damian.
Jon’s words lingered in your mind.
You’re important to Damian too.
It doesn’t really feel that way though….
Alfred Pennyworth, ever the watchful guardian of Wayne Manor, had always considered it his duty—not just as a butler, but as something far more profound—to care for the members of the Wayne family. For all their strength and tenacity, they were, at their core, human. Bruce and his children—each carrying burdens far heavier than any child or young adult should. And so, he noticed things. He always noticed.
Lately, what he noticed most was the way you carried yourself these past few days—lighter, freer. There was a spark in your eyes that had been absent for far too long, a small but significant ease in your posture. You looked happier. Relaxed, even. It was subtle, something anyone else might have overlooked, but not Alfred. No, he knew you. He knew what haunted you when you thought no one was looking. But now? Now you seemed… different.
Frankly, he hoped it stayed that way.
“Miss (Name), if I may,” Alfred began gently as he watched you measure flour into a bowl, a little puff of white powder escaping into the air. “You seem… at peace, lately...”
You paused, glancing up at him with a small, slightly sheepish smile. “Is it that obvious?”
“Indeed.” He gave you a soft, knowing look as he adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves. “Would it be terribly forward of me to inquire as to what—or who—has brought about this change?”
You shifted, focusing a little too hard on sifting the flour as you shrugged. “It’s my friends. Caitlyn and Adrien. They helped me realize there’s more to life than just…” You trailed off, searching for the right words.
“Than just the responsibilities placed upon your shoulders?” Alfred offered delicately.
You nodded, giving him a grateful glance. “Yeah. Something like that.”
Your friends. Alfred found himself deeply relieved to hear that you had people like Caitlyn and Adrien in your life—people who brought you happiness, people who helped lighten the weight you carried. “I see,” he said with a small smile. “It gladdens my heart to know you have such loyal companions. Though, might I suggest inviting them here, to the manor?”
You blinked, looking at him as though he’d suggested something preposterous. “Alfred…”
“Miss, it would seem only fair for me to meet the individuals who have been instrumental in helping you through your turmoil. They seem like lovely people.” His tone was kind, slight humourous even, as he mixed something in a nearby bowl.
You laughed softly, but there was a stubborn edge to it as you shook your head. “As much as I’d like for you to meet them, I don’t think that’s a good idea, Alfred. They don’t know about this family’s secrets, and I intend to keep it that way..”
Alfred raised an eyebrow, ever patient. “I’m certain Master Bruce and Master Richard can manage a polite exchange, at the very least.”
You gave him a pointed look, and Alfred sighed, though it was laced with fondness. “Very well, Miss (Name). If you insist.”
“Thanks,” you said softly, giving him a small smile.
Though Alfred was slightly disappointed at your reluctance, he respected your wishes. He always did. And if your friends made you happy—even if he wouldn’t be able to meet them—then he supposed that was enough for now.
“Now then,” Alfred said, turning back to the task at hand, “you’ll want to add the butter slowly while continuing to mix.”
You hummed as you followed his instruction, your brow furrowing in concentration. The two of you fell into an easy rhythm, the kitchen filling with the soft sounds of utensils clinking, the hum of the oven warming, and your quiet conversation.
“So, Miss Caitlyn and Mister Adrien—are they excelling in their studies with your assistance?”
“Adrien, yes,” you said, rolling your eyes good-naturedly. “Caitlyn… well, she’s trying, but math isn’t really her thing.”
“And yet you continue to help them both. How noble of you,” Alfred replied as he handed you a whisk. “And what of school itself? Are you settling in well?”
You shrugged, starting to mix the ingredients. “Eh…It’s alright. A little boring sometimes, but I guess it’s better than…”
Dying.
You stopped yourself short, quickly correcting, “better than not being in school at all.”
Alfred didn’t miss the slip, but he didn’t press. “Indeed. A dull day can be a blessing in disguise.”
You gave him a thoughtful look, lips quirking into a soft smile. “You always know what to say, Alfred.”
“I try, Miss (Name). I try.”
And as Alfred watched you work—your expression relaxed, your mind seemingly at ease—he hoped, quietly, that this simpler version of your life, this peaceful respite, would last just a little longer.
The soft hum of the oven filled the kitchen as you pulled the last batch of treats onto the counter. The warm, golden pastries sat neatly on their tray, a small comfort in a life that had otherwise been anything but neat. Baking had become your escape—an anchor to hold onto when everything else felt like it was slipping through your fingers.
But the calm was short-lived.
Alfred’s comm buzzed quietly, and though his expression remained composed, you saw the subtle shift in his demeanor—a slight straightening of his back, the way his gaze sharpened. Something was happening.
“It seems Master Bruce and the others require my assistance,” he said, his tone steady as always.
You already knew what that meant. Gotham was in chaos again.
Alfred turned to you, his expression softening with the familiarity of his next question. “Are you sure you do not wish to assist? They could use an extra hand, Miss (Name).”
The offer hung in the air, and for a second, you hesitated. There was always a small part of you that wanted to say yes, to jump back into action and prove yourself—to prove you could help.
But then you suddenly got flashbacks of a memory that you had kept stored away. Oh right. You remembered what this attack was.
Another one of Riddler’s bombing attacks.
Riddler had been terrorizing Gotham with a string of coordinated explosions around this time, targeting key buildings across the city. Chaos had unfolded over the city as your father, along with other available vigilantes in Gotham, scrambled to contain the damage, evacuate civilians, and track down Riddler before he could set off another series of bombs.
You had been told to stay put back then. “It’s too dangerous,” Bruce had said. “We need you to sit this one out.”
But you hadn’t listened.
You’d tracked down one of Riddler’s supposed locations on your own, convinced you could help. The moment you arrived, you knew you’d made a mistake. The building had been rigged, and your sudden presence sent everything spiraling. The countdown on the bomb accelerated. The Riddler’s men panicked and scattered, slipping out before Bruce and the others could surround them.
Dick, Tim, Stephanie and Cassandra had to swoop in to clean up the mess—disarming the bomb, calming the chaos, and stopping any further destruction. They managed to save the day, to prevent any civilian casualties, but Riddler himself got away.
Bruce’s fury still echoed in your head.
“Do you have any idea what you nearly cost us tonight?”
You hadn’t been able to look him in the eye.
“They got the job done,” you’d mumbled, your voice small, but that hadn’t mattered to him.
“Because they had to clean up after you,” he’d snapped, his words sharp enough to sting. “You disobeyed a direct order, and you let Riddler slip away.”
It was one of those moments you wouldn’t forget. Not because of Bruce’s anger, but because he’d been right. You’d wanted to help, and all you’d done was make it harder for everyone else.
Back in the kitchen, you swallowed hard, snapping back to the present. Alfred was still watching you patiently, waiting for an answer.
“I’m sure,” you said finally, your voice tight but firm. You offered a small, forced smile. “They don’t need me. They can handle it themselves.”
For a moment, Alfred regarded you with that knowing look of his, like he could see through every wall you’d put up.
“Very well,” he said softly, though there was a faint note of disappointment in his voice. “If you change your mind…”
“I won’t,” you cut in quickly, your voice quieter this time.
Alfred gave a small nod, seemingly accepting your answer, though you didn’t miss the flicker of concern in his gaze as he turned toward the door.
As he left to fulfill his duties, the kitchen fell silent once more. You leaned back against the counter, staring blankly at the pastries you’d worked so hard on.
Your hands curled into fists at your sides.
“They don’t need me,” you whispered to yourself, repeating the words like a mantra.
But it didn’t feel comforting. It felt hollow.
Because, deep down, the truth still hurts you even now.
You stood in the quiet kitchen for a moment after Alfred left, the hum of the Wayne Manor settling into the evening stillness. The smell of baked goods lingered in the air, but even that wasn’t enough to soothe the weight pressing down on you. With a tired sigh, you began packing everything away, carefully placing the treats into containers and wiping down the counters.
Once the kitchen was clean and silent, you dragged yourself upstairs to your room. It had been a long day—long week, really—and all you wanted to do was sleep. Kicking off your shoes and pulling the blankets over yourself, you let exhaustion take over. For once, you didn’t dream.
A sharp ringing jolted you awake.
Your eyes cracked open reluctantly, the faint glow of your phone lighting up your bedside table. The clock read 4:23 AM. Groaning, you fumbled for the phone, squinting at the screen to see an incoming call—and a series of missed notifications.
22 messages from Caitlyn.
The sight alone snapped you out of your drowsiness. Your stomach twisted, the urgency of it sinking in as you swiped to pick up.
“Caitlyn?” Your voice was groggy and thick with sleep, but there was an edge of concern as you sat up in bed. “What’s going on?”
“(Name)!” Caitlyn’s voice came through the line, panicked, frantic, and scared. It hit you like a punch to the gut. “Oh my god, I—It’s Adrien….He—He’s in the hospital…!”
What?
I think you guys should read the masterlist once more in case you missed out any key warnings…
taglist (1/2): @tricksters-maze @dusk-muse @quethekillerqueen @silverklaus @isupportorbitalbombardment @nxdxsworld @vanessa-boo @coffeeaddictxd @moonsbluekingdom @yuya-bubbly @percythebitchwitch @anonymousdisco @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @redsakura101 @what-0-life @idkwhattoputhete @secretyouthcomputer @witch-waycult @allycat4458 @dazed-lavender @eclecticfurylady @wizzerreblogs @marsmabe @daddysfangirls-dc @hoeinthehouse @beeweensblog @ilxandra @agent-nobody-knows @thethingwiththefeathers @mochiivqi @pix-stuff @narration-ator @nebulousmoon3990 @delias-stuff @froggy-voidd @jjsmeowthie @kore-of-the-underworld @nen-nyy @juthesillylesbain @vikkus-main @emilylouise123 @blueiones @horror-lover-69 @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wassupbroski55555 @reallyromealone @plsfckmedxddy @sea-glasses @203moonysello @luvly-writer @dovey-quacks2332 @love-theangel @hotdinoankles @vebbiewuzhere @animegirlfromvietnam @estreiiuh @simply-lovely78 @twismare @ssak-i @g4bbi3xx @alor-thes | ask to be added <3 (idk why i can’t tag some of y’all, must be your settings i think 😓)
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Fromis App Part 16: Deserved Better - Fromis_9 Chaeyoung
You're cuddling Saerom in bed while she's on her phone, and you hear her sigh against you.
"What's wrong?"
"Chaeng needs more funding, there's less kids now, so the daycare needs additional budget to stay afloat."
"Chaeng? Who's that? You have a daycare?"
"Chaeyoung, you met her, at the... discipline session? You've been in and out of our office so often. And yes we offer a daycare for our employees if they need them. We charge a small but cheap fee, so it's usually a little under break even, but recently there's fewer kids, so she needs more funding from us."
"Huh, I didn't know that. Chaeyoung's the tall one right?" Saerom nods. "I didn't know she ran the daycare."
"She really likes being around kids, so when the previous nanny left we offered her the role."
"I see, how come I haven't seen her around the office?"
"The daycare's in a different part of the building, gotta keep the noisy kids away from the offices. You can go see her if you want!"
A few days later with Saerom's instructions on your phone you enter the Fromis building but take a left, down a hallway you've never gone to before. As you reach close to the end of the hallway you hear childish giggling, the hallway walls going from office standard drab grey to child-friendly yellow and blue.
"Everybody, what do you say?"
"Thank you Miss Lee, goodbye Miss Lee!" A chorus calls out. You step aside to let the horde of children pass by. Chaeyoung smiles at each of them before finally seeing you.
"Oh, hello! We haven't spoken since umm, that." She blushes, remembering the last time she met you, a whirlwind of sex with some of the other employees involved.
"Yeah, just wanted to say hi. I never saw you at the offices and Saerom just told me why."
"Oh yeah that's true! Well it's just this little space, I can show you around but there's not much to see." You look around at the messy scatter of chairs and papers and crayons and decide on a better idea.
"If you don't have class soon, want to grab a coffee?"
"Thank you..." Chaeyoung smiles and takes a sip from the coffee you brought her.
"You know, I feel like I don't know anything about you."
"Really? I know everything about you though. Seoyeon's very happy with you."
"You mean— She talks to you about, umm, me and her?"
"Not just her, we have a group chat. Just because I'm not in the office doesn't mean I'm not in the know." A small smirk appears on her lips.
"Now I'm curious, you never reached out, or matched with me on the app. I don't think I'm that bad in the bedroom so... boyfriend?"
"The girls assure me you're not, so you don't have to worry about that. And no, not boyfriend." She pauses and takes a sip of her coffee, giving you time to process her words.
"Girlfriend?"
"No, or at least, none that haven't slept with you too. It's all casual between us." You raise an eyebrow but she says nothing more.
"Illness?"
"If you mean STDs, I'm definitely clean. And nothing else that would prevent us— I mean me, from doing it."
"So you are thinking about 'us', hmm." Chaeyoung drinks more of her coffee and doesn't offer more. "Really won't tell me?"
"No, and I assure you it's not for any physical reasons."
"Now I'm really curious. How about we do dinner, my treat?"
"As long as you don't expect anything afterwards." You agree, now more curious than ever—for whatever reason Chaeyoung's being very standoffish, yet she's blushing right now, and she has clearly been thinking about using the FROMIS app for some time with you, yet she hasn't.
"Tonight then?"
"Sure."
Later that evening, Chaeyoung's quietly nibbling on her pasta, seemingly to wait for you to finally broach the question you've avoided thus far.
"So, mind telling me the reason?"
"Sure. The reason I haven't reached out is because I didn't want to take your time away from the others, happy?"
"I... Have no idea what you mean?"
"I see the others having sex with you as a way of making them happy, keeping them stress free. They are more important than me to the company, so it is more important that you're spending time with them than with me."
"That's a very objective look at things."
"I have a stake in the company too, so I have to look at things that way."
"But I think you're taking too short-term a view. Because of the good job you're doing, the parents of the kids you're taking care of, the many employees of the company, they can do their work without worrying about them, they do a better job because of you! So, I think you are just as important as the others." You place a hand over Chaeyoung's, half-seduction and half-earnestness, wanting her to see her own value.
"You have needs too, and they deserve to be... Met." The flush is instantly apparent on her face—god, when was the last time she was touched like that?
"I said not to expect anything afterwards!" Chaeyoung mumbles, withdrawing her hand.
"I'm not. I just don't want you to feel like you're any less important than the others, okay?"
"I... Thanks."
"We won't do anything tonight, but you're my priority, I will block out whatever time you need when you want to." You grab Chaeyoung's hand again, kissing the back of it smoothly—a little cheesy perhaps, but you gather she liked it from the way she pulled away, blushing even harder.
"I umm, thanks. I should go, I have to get in early tomorrow."
"Of course, I'll see you home."
"No it's okay, I'll be fine." Chaeyoung grabs her bag and quickly hurries out. Later that night her legs are spread, hand between her thighs as she muffles her whimpers. Truth be told if you had seen her home, Chaeyoung would not have let you gone home that night. She would have pulled you in and—
"Nngh fuck!" She rubs her clit and moans into her hand. Even just thinking about your last time with her, where you and Seoyeon edged Chaeyoung until she was begging for sweet blackout release, is enough to push her to a much stronger orgasm than her usual self-satisfaction sessions. Her hips buck against her hand, pushing against the imaginary you that should be pressed against her cunt. When she relaxes she looks at her own fingers—they're wetter than they've been recently. All of her talk about letting the others have you just makes her all the more needy the moment you make yourself available. You said that'd you prioritize her over everyone else...
"Ah!" Chaeyoung shudders as she touches herself again, one hand on her chest and another dipping past her flat tummy—is she actually going for a second round? She spreads her legs wider, biting her pillow to keep quiet.
"O-Oppa!" Tonight was going to be a sleepless night for Chaeyoung.
You don't hear from Chaeyoung for a week or so, but you do run into her as she's leading her class of kids back to the classroom.
"Chaeyoung!"
"Oh hey, what are you doing here?"
"Came to pick up Jiwon. You?"
"We just had a field trip to the nearby museum."
"Nice, nice." A little kid tugs on your pant leg.
"Are you Miss Lee's daddy?"
"Uhh what?"
"I have a mommy and she has a daddy. Are you Miss Lee's daddy?"
"Oh god..." Chaeyoung mutters under her breath. "No no, he's just a friend, like you have friends too, right? Come on, back to the classroom you go, go follow your friends, they're leaving without you!" She ushers the kid back hastily.
"Sorry, they only know mommy and daddy right now. Husband and wife, boyfriend and girlfriend, still a while to go for that."
"No need to be sorry, they're just kids being kids. Good to see you!"
"Mmhmm, bye!"
You're on Jiwon's floor when you receive a message.
*I want you time tonight, please come over after dropping Jiwon off*
You smile at the typo she missed.
*Of course, I'll drop Jiwon off and come right over*
With a bit of cajoling and consoling you promise to make time for Jiwon next time, and she begrudgingly lets you go.
"Are you going there to fuck her? Be honest." she asks bluntly.
"Probably?"
"Good, fuck her hard, I don't think she's swiped on anyone at all, girl needs to properly get off. I'll let Saerom know Chaeyoung's taking tomorrow off, I want you to fuck her until she can't function properly."
"Who takes care of the kids then?"
"Eh, we'll find someone, that's not for you to worry about!" Jiwon pushes you out the door. "Now go before I change my mind and drag you back in here." You listen to Jiwon and bolt.
"Hey, I'm here," you call out, knocking on the door. It swings open to reveal a gorgeous Chaeyoung, dressed in a strapless black dress and stockings.
"Whoa, going somewhere?"
"Ah umm, no, not really. Come in." You sit down in her cozy apartment.
"You seem like you're dressed to go clubbing, do you want me to go with you to one?"
"Ah about that..." There's a metallic twang as she picks at the tab of her can for a moment. "If I asked, would you go to the club with me, dance a little, have a drink or two, and then end up either back here or at your place?"
"You are assuming a lot, but yes, I'm all yours for the night." Chaeyoung scoots closer to you, a dainty hand rubbing down your thigh and to your knee. In the stunning outfit she looked nothing like the pretty and kind teacher that plays with her children you saw just a little earlier. Now she's pressed against you, breath warm on your ear and neck, like a woman that had her needs, and she wanted them met now.
"I was thinking we could save a lot of time and just skip to the fun part."
"I like that, more time for the fun part." You turn to look at Chaeyoung, and her eyes are already shut, lips lightly parted. You should've answered "Definitely" to Jiwon's question earlier, because when you capture Chaeyoung's bottom lip she whines, a "Why haven't you stuck your tongue down my throat" kind of whine. You correct yourself immediately, capturing her lips a second time and pushing your tongue past them, earning yourself a moan, a promise that Chaeyoung's going to do everything she wants to with you tonight.
You cup her face to kiss her more deeply, but she's grabbing your hand and bringing it down to her chest. It's modest but still a fun handful, made even more fun by the reaction you elicit from her, a whimper when you grind your palm into her dress, massaging a breast roughly.
"Mmm, more!" You give Chaeyoung what she wants, switching to the other breast, wrinkling her dress a little more. You tilt her head back with your other hand, opening up the flawless skin of her neck to you. You're unapologetic in your kisses, sucking and leaving marks on her pale skin, marks that would be oblivious to her childish charges, but prompt many questions from their parents.
Chaeyoung moans loudly, your lips no longer there to suppress her moans—she's already overstimulated, the physical connection with you already too much. She clings to the back your head, pushing you harder against her neck. Short as it was, her dress suddenly felt restrictive, the heat between her legs growing by the second.
"G-Go lower!" Her hand guides yours down, but you stop at her hip, grabbing her and swinging her legs across your lap. With her arms around your neck Chaeyoung's looking at you needily, gasping as you run a hand across her flat midriff, pretending to go straight between her legs before bringing it back up to squeeze a breast.
"Nngh no!" She kisses you before begging with a whisper. "Please don't tease me like last time, I can't take it right now."
"I'm not teasing you. I know you want to cum." Chaeyoung shivers at the word "cum", as if just saying the word has an effect on her. "You deserve to cum hard, I'll get you there." Her eyes are glued to your hand as you bring it back down her body and under her dress. She tenses against you, bracing for your touch against her pussy, but it doesn't come.
Not yet at least. Chaeyoung whimpers when your hand brushes the inside of her thighs, and as soon as she traps you between them she moans—you've sunk your fingers into her flesh, pushing them apart again. You dance across the smoothness of her thighs, teasing her with squeezes, as if giving her a light massage on them. Her hands drifts to your collar, wanting to pull you in for a kiss, but you resist, watching her purse and then bite on her lips as you brush a finger over her panties, pressing against the soaked fabric lightly.
"Oh..." Chaeyoung sighs, moaning and resigning herself to her fate as you "scratch" against her wet spot repeatedly, the motion giving her just enough friction to feel you there, but not enough for her to build towards an orgasm.
"You said you wouldn't— GOD!" Chaeyoung yelps at the end, her voice cracking a little as you press firmly against her wetness, swiping over where you think her clit would be through her panties. Her hands dig into your neck, and she's trembling in your arms. You debated making one more swipe, but at this rate she's due to blow as soon as you do that. You deposit her on the edge of the couch, and before she realizes it you've buried your head underneath her dress, slightly stretching it before her thighs quickly close around you, pressing against your cheeks.
"Huh? Ah!" Slightly dazed from your tease she's confused as to where you went. She sees the slight bulge between her legs, but she doesn't put two and two together until it's too late. Nothing prepares Chaeyoung for the lightning bolt of pleasure when you lick her pussy directly, her head snapping back as she let's out a loud cry.
You barely hear her, but you definitely feel her response, her thighs pressing on you head firmly. Chaeyoung's on the edge but you're not ready to push her over yet, sucking on the left lip and then the right, spreading her pussy with your mouth. She smacks your head not too softly, and you have to grab her hands to stop her from wrecking your head from all angles. Her fingers dig into your palm, and she's twisting left and right, her legs hooked around your neck, trying to get you to properly eat her. She's liable to snap your head off at this rate with how hard she's thrashing—you'll have to finish her off first!
You plunge your tongue deep into Chaeyoung, hands holding her hips down. She instantly goes still, before everything begins. Above you Chaeyoung grunts, core tensing as the feeling of your tongue inside her goes straight to her head.
"God, fucking FUCK!" Unbecoming of a childcare teacher Chaeyeoung swears and screams in pleasure, back arching as she explodes. Her world breaks into a billion brilliant pieces, moans loud and unrestrained bursting from her as she grabs on to you over the dress.
Underneath her dress you barely hear any of it, courtesy of her thighs crushing your ears and your singular focus on making Chaeyoung cum harder than she's ever had before. All you hear is the rubbing of her thighs around your ears, the dress rustling against the couch cushion, and the wet squelch of Chaeyoung squirting. It starts with a small spray, and you catch it with your face. Her pussy contracts around your tongue, and she is sweet and salty on your tastebuds with more slick. You capture her clit with your lips, swirling your tongue over it, and her heels dig into your back, pushing her butt off the couch.
"Hnngh!" Chaeyoung howls into a couch pillow, feeling your hands on her ass lift her pussy to your face. It feels so good but she needs even more! Without even being aware of it Chaeyoung pushes herself higher on you, thighs now resting on your shoulders, legs twisting to lock you in.
"Mmph!" Your surprised moan is muffled by Chaeyoung—she has the core strength to lurch herself closer to you, making sure you bury your face in her. Every little touch makes her squirt now—kiss her pussy, squirt; a single lick, squirt; you exhale against her warmth, squirt; your nose brushes against her clit, squirt. You bury your tongue in her, upper lip nudging her clit, and Chaeyoung gushing all over your face—all you hear is the splash of fluids, her thighs still trembling and muffling your ears. When she finally goes slack and releases your head, by volume there's probably more of Lee Chaeyoung on your face than there is on her couch.
You manage to extricate yourself, and when you take your first look at Chaeyoung in a while you're proud of your work—she looks absolutely shattered, a dopey smile on her face and a pink flush washing over her, like she's had a few drinks at the club she didn't go to. She puts her hands out for you, and when you get close she grabs you, face dripping with her juices and all, and kisses you fervently.
"That was amazing. But I want more, I deserve more, don't I?"
"Yes, but you should take a breather, grab some water—"
"No, I want it now!" She pulls you to the bedroom unsteadily, and you watch Chaeyoung peel off the dress as you remove your own clothes.
"Sorry about your shirt."
"Sorry about your dress." Both are soaked in her slick.
"I'll manage."
"So will I then." Chaeyoung kicks her panties off and you're immediately on top of her, already naked and ready to go.
"Wait, sorry, can we change the position?" You get off her, but she shakes her head. "No, just like this." She takes you by your hands, and she draws it under her legs, making you hook her knees. She continues pulling your hands up, making you lean over her. She keeps raising your hands until they're by her head, and her ankles are by your ears.
"F-Fuck me like this," Chaeyoung mumbles, unable to meet your eyes—she's put herself in a mating press. She lets out a gasp when you enter her, her wetness allowing you to get all the way in right away. "Ah, so deep!"
"You like that?"
"Yeah, mm!" You pull back before delivering a solid thump against her hips. "Yes, just like that!" Chaeyoung gasps as you start pounding down into her, all of your weight translating into pure pleasure for her—no matter how hard she fucks herself with a dildo, there's no way she could ever reproduce this feeling! All those nights when she was alone, knowing that you might be with Saerom, or Nagyung, or Jiwon, or someone else, while she drills away at herself—now she's the one you're with! She doesn't need to sneak a peek at each of them coming into the building, wondering who was the lucky one that got pounded into a barely noticeable limp, or who looked either peppier (Hayoung, Jisun) or sleepier (Seoyeon) the next morning. It's all about her tonight, and she's going to let herself enjoy it to the fullest extent.
"Deeper!" She cries, hands grabbing your arms, feeling them flex underneath her. Chaeyoung flutters her eyes, biting her lower lip—anything to entice you further. "Harder, do it harder!" You put a hand on her lower back, bringing her up to you a little, and you slam down.
"Yes! That's it daddy!"
"Daddy?" Chaeyoung opens her eyes in annoyance at your sudden stop, just before she processes what she just said and wishing she could close her eyes and will you away. She covers her own face with her hands, but you pull them away, watching her blush and squirm underneath you. "What did you say?"
"N-Nothing!" But you knew exactly what she said.
"Is that why you called me tonight?" You grind your tip deep inside her. "The kid asked, and you thought about me being your daddy?" She clenches around you. "And now you can't hold it in anymore?" You thought she would deny, maybe say something to deflect, and you'd have to fuck the answer out of her, but no, Chaeyoung's desperate, folding figuratively and literally as you press her legs further back.
"Y-Yes, I'm sorry! It just came out, ah!"
"I prefer oppa, but you can call me whatever you want."
"T-Thank you, mm! Thank you daddy!" After the first occurrence slipped out with no consequence, Chaeyoung's unraveling rapidly, replacing moans of your name with "daddy". She tightens up every time she says it too, causing you to grunt in appreciation.
"God, so fucking tight!"
"Only for you daddy, only tight for you!" Chaeyoung wails. You had known that she was subby, letting you and Seoyeon tease and edge her endlessly, but this is a whole new level. She's pulling you in for a kiss, allowing her legs to be pushed further apart and back, whimpering as you strike her deep. "I'm so close, so close daddy!"
"Are you going to cum for me?"
"Yes, going to cum for you, tell me when!" With a slight grin you continue pounding down into her, staying silent even as you rub on her clit. Chaeyoung's eyes widen before they disappear into her head, closing tightly as she tries to stave off her climax. She wants to remind you that you're not supposed to tease her, but she can't piece the words together, letting a high pitched whine out instead, like she's boiling up from the inside. The clenching around your shaft becomes tighter and tighter—Chaeyoung's losing it, she won't be able to keep herself from cumming!
"D-Daddy!" she wails, sounding like a whistle.
"Cum for me now!" You stay deep in her and rub her clit rapidly, and Chaeyoung cries out in glorious release.
"Yes!" The words are choked out, and her flat tummy twitches—you feel it in the form of her pussy clenching around you, sucking you deep as you take in the sight. Chaeyoung's a young and pretty childcare provider, kind and caring. An ideal, if not perfect, if not too perfect, type for many perhaps, especially with her looks and figure.
"Hnnngh fuck!" Yet here she is, creaming herself all around your cock, getting the fucking that, in her own words, she deserves.
"That's it, cum as hard as you want, I'm here to give you everything you deserve." The pleasure roils and boils within Chaeyoung, and your lips on her neck, the subtle pump of your hips, the fingerpad on her nipple, it all brings her back to overflowing. She gulps and chokes on air, a small orgasm washing over her from that alone. When she finally stops trembling she finds herself sweating, her arms and legs tangling around you like a clingy vine.
"That was amazing daddy."
"Good, you deserve it." Chaeyoung pulls you in for a kiss, and thankfully she loosens up slightly around you—any more of her rhythmic, perhaps unwitting, tugs on your shaft, and you're close to losing it. You calm down a little, enjoying her warm caress, a satisfied lover glowing from the pleasure. She can finish you off later, but you were in no rush.
Chaeyoung has other plans though, she's not nearly as satisfied as you thought.
"But I think... I think I also deserve it from behind. And I also think I deserve your cum in me."
"What?"
"I want your cum in me, daddy." She's on all fours, and she grabs your shaft, pushing herself back on to you.
"Fuck are you sure?" She's even tighter from behind.
"Maybe I even deserve a baby from you."
"Chaeyoung!" You grip her hips to steady yourself. It's one thing to fuck her, it's another thing to breed her. And she's calling you "daddy", fuck.
"I like being around kids, why do you think Saerom offered the job to me? I asked for it. I want kids." Despite seemingly cockdrunk, grinding herself against your hips, you see that Chaeyoung's serious.
"Are you sure?"
"We're— I mean, I am, ready to have them. You're the only one I'm doing it with, so if it happens, great, if it doesn't, maybe in the future." She pushes herself up, pressing her back to your chest and wrapping her arms around your neck. "So we can have the talk later, but right now please just give me the breeding I deserve, daddy." You hips pull back and snap forward, like a rubber band releasing its energy, and Chaeyoung cries out happily.
"Just like that!"
"Is that what you want? Why you put yourself into a mating press, hoping I'd blow my load before I could do anything else?"
"I-I wanted you to cum in me twice daddy!"
"You didn't think I would last long enough?"
"No, I didn't mean— Nngh! I'm sorry!" You push Chaeyoung down on the bed and pin her there, hips humping down into her from above. You rub against her g-spot on each thrust, and she's screaming into the sheets, delighted at your "punishment".
"Fuck me daddy, please, cum in me!" You're slamming into her now, and when Chaeyoung buckles so do you, pressing down into her prone form and flooding her womb in an instant. Chaeyoung squeals into the kiss she finds herself in, her legs kicking, unable to handle the heat she's suddenly filled with. You grunt and groan, shoving yourself deeper with smaller thrusts, determined to drain yourself fully in her.
"Hnngh that's so deep!" One more spurt for good measure. With that you collapse on top of her, keeping yourself partially propped up to not completely crush her. It is a while before both your breaths stabilize, and you roll off her.
"Thanks oppa, that was everything I dreamed of, and more." You follow her eyes down, watching your load spill out of her. There was always an implicit understanding that Saerom and the other employees you had fun with took care of themselves, that they would ask you to use a condom otherwise, but for the first time ever Chaeyoung's making you question that.
"Chaeyoung, are you— Were you serious?"
"About kids? Yes. It's not a safe day, but it's also not that risky, there's a chance, and that's good enough for me."
"That's a huge decision, you should've—"
"There are big changes coming, we're all making big decisions, so— No, that's for Saerom unnie to break it to you." Chaeyoung shakes her head. "Sorry, just call it baby fever, thinking about 'daddy' just threw me for a loop." She kisses you in apology. "Don't worry, I won't make you take responsibility if—"
"No, that would be irresponsible of me. I just don't want you to make a rash decision while you're... not in the right state of mind."
"You mean needy and horny?" Chaeyoung asks as she cleans between her legs. "If I didn't want the risk, I would've just gotten myself off and called it a night, I have toys you know. So just enjoy yourself, I'm not worrying about it and I don't want you to be. I can stop with the breeding talk if you don't find it hot."
"Right, no umm, do what turns you on. If you want to call me names and think about being reckless in bed, I'll meet you halfway."
"Well when you put it like that, it sounds so... hot." Chaeyoung's rubbing her neck, feeling warm all over again. "But no, I'm too drained, let's just take a shower and hit the bed?"
"You want me to stay over?"
"Please?" She pouts, and you don't have it in you to say no. After she insists that you shower first rather than together ("I'm going to jump you if you get hard again."), you're dozing off as Chaeyoung curls up behind you, spooning you as she falls asleep against your back.
You're jolted awake by the sound of a cupboard door closing.
"Oh, sorry!" Chaeyoung's dressed in a form-fitting black swimsuit, leaving nothing to the imagination, highlighting her stunning curves.
"Going somewhere?"
"Oh, Saerom messaged me, told me to enjoy my day off? So I was going to go swimming in the morning instead!"
"Hmm, sorry, I can't let you do that." You wrap your hand around her waist, pulling her back to bed. "That's on me, I didn't do a good job."
"Didn't do a good job?"
"So Jiwon is the one who asked Saerom for a day off for you, because I ditched her for you."
"What? Oh no, I know I shouldn't have asked you to come over yesterday, I feel so bad!"
"No no, you deserved all of it." You run a hand under her top, and Chaeyoung's blushing pink at your forwardness. "One of the conditions for Jiwon to let me go last night was that I fuck you until you can't function, and she asked Saerom to give you the day off because of that."
"So you failed, here I am... functioning, aren't I? Maybe I should message Jiwon, let her know that you failed, what would she do then?"
"We'll never know." You pull Chaeyoung against you, and she's melting by the second. "I plan to occupy you, sorry, I mean keep you occupied, for the rest of the day." Chaeyoung gasps at the thought, of you "occupying" her for the rest of the day. "Maybe you won't be able to function for about, I don't know, nine months?" Chaeyoung gasps again, growing warm in your arms. She said she was fine with just having a chance at a baby yesterday, but with how wet she instantly got she knows she's wrong—she needs to be bred, specifically by you.
"A-Are you going to, daddy? I won't tell Jiwon about your failure if you do." You respond by peeling off her swimsuit as she pulls you out of your boxers, and having never got up from the bed since you woke up, you're sliding back into Chaeyoung.
"I will if you get so tight and wet every time."
"O-Only for you, only you can give me what I deserve!" You lift her leg, letting it dangle over your hips, and you're easily bottoming out in Chaeyoung again. "You're going to give me a good workout today aren't you? You're— Oh god, working me over so deep!"
"Yes, it's the perfect workout, we can lie in bed while getting the workout you need... And you'll get your fill all the same!"
"YES!" Chaeyoung cries out as both of you cum quickly—there's no need to last long when you're going to be fucking her plenty today, and the moment you cum, her orgasm is triggered as her body tries to milk you for every drop. As you slowly calm down from you climax you spy her closet full of clothes.
"Are those all your outfits?"
"Yeah, most of them, for work, going out, exercise, shopping."
"You have an outfit to go shopping?"
"Yeah, you know, easy to take off, so I can try on other clothes?"
"You could've stopped at 'easy to take off', go put it on." Chaeyoung's a little puzzled, but she goes over and puts it on. "Good?"
"Yeah." She's pushed against the closet door, and in an instant you've unbuttoned her jeans and pushed into her again. "Hnngh! What?"
"Cum for me." An eager finger on her clit and Chaeyoung's whining into your ear, sucking on your neck and leaving a hickey as she clenches around you.
"Next outfit. You deserve to get fucked in every one of them, I'd cum in you while you're wearing each of them if I could, just so you remember me as soon as you're not naked."
"W-What about when I'm naked?" Chaeyoung asks in a daze, still coming down from her orgasm.
"You won't have to remember, because I'll be there." She shivers against you, as if the thought alone gave her pleasure. She steadies herself and grabs the next outfit. Chaeyoung finds herself whirled around, bent over the bed. The air is cool on the back of her thighs as her skirt is swept up—
"Ughhh yes!"
Chaeyoung gasps as her oversized sweater is pulled over her head and her bike shorts pulled down. She can feel herself leaking cum from the previous load, staining the fabric. Your tongue and lips on her nipples make her leak more, but not before your fingers are shoved in her, trying to keep the cum in.
"J-Just put more into me!" she manages to moan out.
Chaeyoung's bent over her desk, her work blouse fluttering open—you're on top of her, coming down from your own orgasm and breathing heavily. The only reason that your load dripping from her isn't heard is because her discarded pants are catching all of it.
"Wear this tomorrow," you mumble, tugging on her blouse.
"Hmm?! I can't, there's lipstick marks all over it!" The collar is pink from when Chaeyoung bit into it, trying to muffle her scream earlier. Your fingers delve into her, scooping up some of your load and rubbing it into the pink spots, as if that would make it clean. It just makes things smell, smell of you.
"Wear it tomorrow," you order as you place your fingers by her lips, asking her to clean them.
"Y-Yes daddy."
Chaeyoung's on the dining table, tiny boy shorts pulled to the side and your cock keeping it there. Her entire body is flushed pink, warm not only from the dishes that were just on the table a moment ago, but also from the pounding you're giving her right now, making her spill slick over the edge of the table and on to the floor.
"You deserve your dessert, don't you?"
"Yes!" Chaeyoung's pulling on her hair, and thrashing about, knocking over a cup of water.
"Good, here's your cream."
Now everything's spilling over the table edge.
In another world Chaeyoung could've been an idol, putting on different outfits for photoshoots, looking prettier than ever, each shot made to appear absolutely perfect. That Chaeyoung may have wondered if the studio would look like her apartment right now, clothes strewn everywhere, the tops and bottoms hanging on her frame for but a second, the time it takes to make a pose, before they're pulled off and replaced with another; Maybe she would have wondered if photoshoots would be tiring, having to change her outfits and poses constantly.
This Chaeyoung is not capable of wondering, carried and pulled and tossed and finally, fucked on every surface. Her mind's mushy, she's picking up random clothing off the ground, mixing and matching—she doesn't even remember which ones she has worn already for you. Splattered randomly on her clothes are fluids of some description—a mix of her squirt and your cum. She's going to have to do one big load of laundry after you leave.
Speaking of big loads, you've left several in her, and as you fuck Chaeyoung in front of the mirror, the sinful schoolgirl outfit she has on, coupled with her utterly blissed out expression as she braces against the mirror frame, is going to make sure that this last load will last her nine months.
"God you deserve everything I have left don't you?" You growl, arms hooking under her shoulders, pulling her back and keeping her upright.
"Y-Yes, give it, please!" Chaeyoung's barely coherent, you think Jiwon will be properly satisfied if you took a picture of how Chaeyoung looked right now.
"You won't be able to wear these outfits again... This midriff? Gone." Chaeyoung's eyes are gone as well, rolling into her head, and she let's out a long, drawn out moan as you fill her womb one last time, cumming with you and eager to fully drain you and finally get some rest. She lets out a rasp, as if choking, as if she can't hold all the cum in her. She sobs, and a little bit of it leaks out from around your shaft—she's completely full! When you finish firing she sighs happily, going limp in your arms—you're the only thing keeping her up now, and you know she's out of commission, content and bred.
You put her down on the bed, and she pulls you in, pouting for a cuddle. Chaeyoung reaches for her phone, and the two of you laugh at Jiwon's messages.
*Yah, you better not see this message!*
*If the "1" disappears early I'll know!*
Chaeyoung types out a quick message.
*We finished, you should reward oppa with whatever he wants*
*Oh we will! Saerom's gonna tell him soon*
"We? What's this about Saerom, you mentioned her just now too."
"Don't worry about that, it will all be fine." Puzzled, you kiss Chaeyoung all the same—she deserves that much at least.
A/N: Well, got it out just in timeish (not really lol), but this is likely the penultimate chapter to FROMIS app. There'll be one more with the other members, hopefully it'll be soonish. Chaeng has always struck me as the super kind, super nice member, she cares a lot for them, so I wrote that in a little. Hope you like this one, have a happy 2025, and fuck pledis, WE FUCKING GO. Thanks for reading!
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a fic where MC gets a promotion and so she prepares a nice candle light or whatever romantic dinner to tell Zayne about her promotion. On the other side, a nurse from the Hospital already told Zayne about mc's promotion and now Zayne thinks mc doesn't find him important, he just starts having sad upset negetive thoughts and even gets angry at her...but when he gets home he finds the romantic dinner setup and MC waiting in a beautiful dress.....angst to fluffy maybe slightly suggestive too
Ty<3
just a heads up i dont really write fics unless i come up w the premise myself! so heres jsut the standard hc format i use! also kinda messy of that nurse ngl but why you going around talking to his coworkers like that [eyes] /lh also i dont acc see him getting angry so ive messed w this a little bit to fit how i see him!
Zayne doesn't react when the nurse gives him the news. He doesn't want to come off as angry or anything but he also is aware that you have a positive relationship with the people he works it from the sheer amount of times you come to visit him.
He does start checking his phone a little more frequently, waiting to see if you'll text him anything that gives him a hint about what that nurse was mentioning. He knows you were gunning for one at work but had no idea what was happening as you'd been silent about it as of late. He did want to ask about but was trying to wait for the perfect moment, not sure when that would be. He tries not to let the notion that you forgot to tell him something that important bother him too much and is...generally successful as long as he's busy with work.
The drive home has him trying to figure out how to broach the topic, so distracted he almost breezes right past you in the kitchen. You stare at him, confused by the focused look on his face until he meets your gaze, raising a brow at your attire and the dinner you have set up. You immediately tell him the great news, any sour emotions he might have felt dissipating.
In bed after celebrating, Zayne finally asks why you told his colleagues before telling him. It takes you a second to register what he's talking about. You finally put the pieces together, telling him that you didn't mean to - you were just waiting for him one evening and were so excited so when you recognised the nurse you couldn't help but spill the beans. You'd thought you'd sworn them to secrecy but clearly not, making a mental note to be more careful next time to avoid any future misunderstandings. Zayne's just happy to have cleared it up, knowing all along it wasn't intentional but glad to hear you say it anyway.
#love and deepspace x reader#l&ds x reader#lads x reader#zayne x reader#l&ds zayne x reader#lads zayne x reader
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Hi friend!! I've been following you on a couple platforms when it comes to your amazing art!! I know you've talked about ghostprice, but I saw the Price's hand on the back of Kyle's neck and was wondering if you could talk about the relationship between price and gaz? I loved the ghost price one, but I totally understand if you don't have the same write up for these two lol
!!! thank you so much for this ask, because i love thinking about this dynamic in my free time.
lots of reading under the cut!
so, because I like to cherry-pick influences from canon, in the monster au, Gaz and Price met before Gaz got drafted into the 141. Gaz was the harpy escort to a standard military op that got off-track when doing recon, and ended up wrapped up in a territorial dispute with two griffin hybrids. The whole team got stuck sandwiched between the two with neither side willing to let them move, and when Gaz tried to fly above to do some surveillance he got beaten out of the sky by both of them (they don't take kindly to interlopers interfering with griffin disputes). They had to request emergency assistance from the closest party which, by chance, happened to be Price's team.
This all happened after Price lost his wing, and on this mission he collaborated with Gaz to help get (most of) his team out safely without having to rely on his skill of flight. They both made strong impressions on each other then, with Gaz forming the first seeds of a long-term loyalty to Price. When his contract with his current station ended, he was all too happy to get poached for the 141.
Coming from a more interpersonal perspective - Gaz is a harpy, which means he's fiercely independent and bases a lot of his identity on not being reliant on anyone. Price is a dragon, which comes with a lot of pesky hoard instincts that instruct him to 'provide' for his hoard. It means that Gaz dislikes being taken care of and a strong instinctual part of Price is unhappy about that. When they're more intimate, Gaz insists on giving as much as he is getting (if not more) and is always seeking ways to contribute and prove his value to the group. Even though he might be chill by harpy standards, Gaz is still very proud and he gets flustered when forced to accept things without 'earning' it.
(also he might have a little bit of hero worship for price lingering in the recesses of his mind)
Price only having one wing and being essentially grounded also adds an extra layer to their relationship. Harpies put a lot of stock in their flying prowess, so the loss of a wing is truly a world-ending event in their culture and he's extremely uncomfortable broaching the subject with Price even though he'd be happy to talk about it if pushed. He also feels that it is his role to be Price's 'wings' now, which is a sentiment that he hasn't shared to anyone but puts a lot of pressure on himself to live up to. He doesn't think this way out of any sort of pity for Price - his captain has proved time and time again to be the kind of monster worth following - instead, this mentality is him militantly breaking himself down to how useful/valuable he can be to others.
tldr; gaz is bad at accepting care, price wants to take care of him so bad and is slowly figuring out loopholes
#their relationship together is affectionate but still sort of surface level at this point#not that price isnt trying#gaz is just very proud#askbox#pricegaz
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A HELPING HAND
sirius black x reader, 1500 words
summary: if there’s one thing you know, it’s to always trust Professor McGonagall’s advice.
c/w: nerd-ish reader who gets in detention, friends to lovers, confession of love. Mentions of insecurities, but nothing too intense.
a/n: rest in piece to the darling dame maggie smith. I hope I did her and her wonderful character justice, I just wanted to appreciate her in the best way I knew how <3
You’ve always been a good student. You study hard, get good grades and never get in trouble, sometimes even getting made fun of by nasty students for being a nerd. Sirius never made fun of you though, he was always so sweet when you cancelled on him to study for a particularly hard test or ignore him because your too engrossed in writing your essay.
But why does that even matter now? Your strides through the stone hallway break your thoughts, internally cursing yourself for even slightly letting your mind drift from the problem at hand. You got a detention!
Well, not exactly a detention, but it’s as close as you’ll ever get. Your grades have been dropping below your usual impossibly high standards, and now the headmistress has asked to meet with you to discuss your current predicament. Unlike your Black family counterpart, you pride yourself on academic appearances, especially when it comes to higher up authorities like Professor McGonagall.
You knock on the hard wood door three times, the wood rumbling as it opens almost immediately. Before you sits this aforementioned professor, enveloped by a thick leather armchair and adorned in expensive jewellery. Truthfully, you aspire to be like her someday. Commanding and treacherous, yet simultaneously kind and beautiful. Her emerald broach shimmers in the sunlight pouring into her tiny study, and her slick back bun has a few curled whisps falling out. You wonder how she always gets her hair to sit so nice, and how long that must take every morning.
“Good afternoon Miss McGonagall.” You nervously state, quickly walking in and sitting primly in an armchair. She simply nods, going back to whatever letter she is writing with a soft smile. “I presume you know why I called you in today?” “Of course. And I’m very sorry I’ve fallen behind on my schoolwork professor. I promise I will get that transfiguration parchment to you once my defence against the dark arts test is done, and I’ve been studying tirelessly to get my scores to a more appropriate level, I promise.”
Despite the worry evident on your voice, she merely chuckles, acting as if you made a joke. You didn’t make a joke though, so you furrow your brow in concern. Did you say something wrong?
“No my dear. I was just calling you in to ask about your handwriting.” “My-? Oh yes, apologies for the messiness on my last assignment. I was in a bit of a rush, so I think some of my m’s turned into n’s.” Once again she laughs, this time straight from her belly, her head thrown back. You can’t help but feel your face burn up in embarrassment. “Messiness? Why I never! No darling, I meant to ask how it’s so neat! You see, I’ve been attempting to do those same loops you do on capitals, but I’m afraid I can’t replicate it!”
She slides over to you the parchment she was writing on, revealing random sentences repeated in order to practice replicating your font. Truthfully they are quite shaky, but you wouldn’t admit it to her face anytime soon. “Do you mind writing a few sentences for me? Maybe even casting piertotum locomotor on them so I can’t watch it back would be helpful!” You bashfully fulfill your task, writing some simple words on the page in swirling calligraphy. As you do this, your professor casually talks to you.
“I must say though, you were never much of the type to rush projects. What had you in such a hurry?”
“Nothing really, just a trip to Hogsmeade with Sirius Black.”
“Sounds lovely.”
“Oh yes, it really was. Sirius wanted to go into town because he ordered a record from the post office that was due to arrive. It was some muggle band, I think it was called The Beatles? He said they are quite popular, and I see why. The singer is dreamy! He played it for me when we got back to school, and he gave me some of his Berty’s Botts Beans. He knows I love them you see, and he always tries to inspect them before he hands them to me so I don’t get the bad ones. Sometimes he gets it wrong, and I have to suffer anyways. But I…” You eventually realise just how much you have been rambling, as the page is suddenly filled with words you didn’t remember writing and you need to take a deep breath to rid of your light headedness. “Yes, I thought it was nice.” You finish up, not wanting to bore her with your story of a typical day out. But she honestly seems quite intrigued, looking at you with a peculiar arched eyebrow.
“You and that Black boy make a strange pair. A good one at that though.” You chuckle along with her, reminiscing on your differences that complement each other perfectly. “Many do say that. He’s a good friend to me.”
“Friend?” She mirrors, an almost offended tone on her voice. She takes the page away from you and blows on it as to help to ink dry, before placing it in a draw of her desk. “I don’t know why, but I always thought you two were together. Never mind me, I’m a silly old lass now.” Usually you are completely and utterly respectful no matter what is thrown at you, but something in her statement sets off a spark in which you immediately regret. “No! no no no no no. Sirius and I would never! I mean, have you seen how he- no, it would never work.”
Professor McGonagall looks at you in a way that can only be described as utter disbelief, and a tiny hint of disappointment before she speaks. “If you say so. But I have to say, I was just like you back in my day. So naïve…” She sighs, looking blissfully off. “You know…” She twists to face you, a smirk causing her features to almost become young once more. “When I was your age, maybe a little younger I liked a guy. Now don’t tell anyone I told you this but… He was a real dashing man. So proper and smart, but he really knew how to dance when the jukebox started!”
Suddenly you feel like Minerva McGonagall’s best friend, gossiping about your childhoods now those days are long gone. Never would you have expected to see this side of her, but you cannot complain when you see that energetic sparkle in her eye.
“And I believe he like me back. When I was tired he would carry me up to my common room, and and would tuck me in real nice and tight. But I never went any further. I was too nervous. So he started dating my friend, and five years later they got married! I hate to admit it but sometimes I wonder how things would’ve turned out. You don’t have to listen to an out of touch woman like me, but you know I have your best interest at heart.”
It takes you a good minute to properly process her words, repeating them in your head and wondering how she could be so right. No one, not even any of your closest friends have ever realised your concealed feelings, the only being hearing them is your little diary under the moonlight, which knows they will never come true. But here is your teacher, completely demolishing your tiny sense of secrecy and legitimising every worry you’ve ever had. When he kisses some random girl at a party you worry it will last between them, when you can’t find him in his usual spots you worry he’s abandoned you and when you look in the mirror you see merely a friend, someone who will never amount to him. But maybe you could. Maybe there is some universe where he feels the same, and you are lucky enough to be in that universe right now. After all, there always is a chance.
“Go and get him.” She orders, staring into your soul with her blue eyes. You nod, tears fighting to leave your eyes as the weight of emotion takes over you. You stand up, thanking her breathlessly before running out.
Professor McGonagall knows that she did the right thing, judging by the conversation she had with Sirius about the same subject just the other day.
#sirius black x reader#marauders#marauders x reader#sirius black#sirius orion black#sirius x reader#the marauders#hp marauders#babybatss blog#maggie smith#minerva mcgonagall#professor mcgonagall#minnie mcgonagall#headmistress mcgonagall#harry potter
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Eddie Diaz x reader
Angst but fluff at the end
Where maybe the reader is married to Eddie and she asks him about if he ever wants a kid with her and he takes it the wrong way and says something like I only need Christopher and he’s enough, and the reader gets upset and walks off and maybe drives to Maddie’s and chimneys and while she’s gone he goes to their room and finds a box on the bed and he opens it to see the readers ultrasound and he immediately feels bad and goes to talk to her and happy ending.
Thank you so much for the request! I altered it only slightly (just where Eddie finds the ultrasound) but I loved this concept. I love angst with a happy ending!
It was a pretty normal day all in all. Carla was taking care of Christopher, Eddie was at the station, your boss kept sending hundreds of emails, oh and you had found out you were pregnant. Just an average day. You hadn't planned this by any means. You and Eddie had never talked about having a baby. You had been married for a year and a half, but the subject had never come up and you had never pushed it. Look how well that had gone. After staring at the stick in your hand for what felt like an eternity, you finally pushed yourself up from the floor and left the bathroom.
"Hey, Carla, are you okay if I run out? I have to go do something. It should only be about an hour." You say grabbing your keys.
"Of course, honey. Go right ahead." She says.
"Thanks, Carla. Bye bud," you say kissing Christopher on the top of his head before heading out of your and Eddie's shared house.
You didn't even know what you were doing until you were sitting in the waiting room of the local doctor's office reading a magazine.
It wasn't until one of the nurses had called your name 3 times that you seemed to realize they were calling you.
"Sorry." You apologize sheepishly standing and following her back to a room.
Sure enough, the doctor confirmed you were about 6 weeks pregnant and sent you home with a picture of the tiny baby. You knew you couldn't hide this from Eddie for long since you were likely to start experiencing more symptoms, but a part of you was worried about how he would react. Everything had finally settled down with Christopher and work. Everything was stable per se. And now you were throwing a wrench into the serenity the two of you had worked so hard to create. Finally, you decided you would broach the subject once Christopher had gone to bed. You would just ask him if he ever thought about having more kids. Yeah. That would work.
So, that night after Christopher was in bed and you and Eddie were alone in your room getting ready for bed, you took a deep breath before deciding now was a good time to approach the subject.
"Hey, Eddie?" You asked putting lotion onto your arms. "Have you ever thought about maybe having another kid?"
"What?" He asks brows furrowed as he pulls the covers down and joins you in the bed.
"Have you ever wanted another kid? I mean I love Christopher, but I was just curious." You explain, heart racing.
"Not really. I mean, I'm happy with Chris. He's a handful as it is and with him getting older, I don't know. I'm happy that the diaper changes and waking up to screaming is over." He says.
Anger surges through you at his admission. How could he say that? How could he openly admit to your face that he didn't want the baby growing inside of you...not that he knew about that, but that wasn't important.
"Were you even around for that?" You ask not thinking about what you're saying, just infuriated at him. "I mean didn't you enlist right after Shannon had Chris so didn't you pretty much luck out and miss all of those years?"
"What the hell are you saying?" He asks, confused at why you're attacking him all of a sudden.
"I just mean don't you not even know what it's like to be there for those years, so isn't that not a fair standard to measure it by?" You argue.
"What's going on with you?" He asks, turning to you, trying to contain his anger.
You scoff, "Nothing."
"Something's going on 'cause you're acting like a real bitch to me right now for no reason." He says. Instantly his face drops, realizing what he just said to you. "I-"
"Fuck you, Eddie." You say standing up and grabbing your coat. You don't listen to him as he follows after you, grabbing your keys and walking out of the house. You just get in your car and drive.
Eddie watches as you leave, slamming the door behind you. He really messed up this time. "Fuck!" He exclaims hitting the table. Your purse tips over as his fist makes contact with the table. a paper falling out. The paper catches his attention, the white clashing against the dark oak of the table. He reaches to put it back in your purse when the other side of the paper intrigues him. He turns it over to see a blob in the middle of the page. His face drops instantly, he runs his hand through his hair staring at the blob that is the reason for your outburst a few minutes earlier. He sighs texting Buck asking him to come stay with Christopher. 15 minutes later, a confused Buck shows up at Eddie's door.
"Uh...Everything alright? It's kinda late for a sleepover." He says.
"I messed up." He sighs stepping aside. After a quick explanation to Buck after letting him inside, Eddie is on his way out the door, texting everyone if you're with them. A few minutes into his search, Chimney texts back saying that you're there with Maddie and that he really messed up this time.
20 minutes later he's standing outside of Maddie's apartment, ultrasound in hand as he knocks with his free hand. Maddie answers, hands on her hips, brow raised at him, and sass written all over her face.
"I know, I know. Can I just talk to her?" He sighs. Maddie steps aside and lets him find you on the couch.
"Amor?" He asks cautiously, approaching you carefully.
"What do you want, Eddie?" You ask not looking at him.
"Can we talk?" He asks coming to sit next to you. The picture in his hand is what catches your eye. You look up at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly open. "When you asked me if I wanted more kids, you should have told me you were pregnant."
"I was trying to figure out how you would react." You explain.
"Just because it wasn't in my plan to have more kids doesn't mean I won't love this baby." He sighs.
"Well, when I broached the subject you didn't seem thrilled." You say sadly.
"Well, you started attacking me when I said I didn't want more kids." He says softly.
"I'm sorry." You say.
"Me too." He says taking my hand in his. "Come on, let's go home."
"Okay." You say taking his hand and standing with him. After saying goodbye to Maddie and Chim, you and Eddie make your way to his truck and start back home.
"So, how far along are you?" Eddie asks as we pull out of their driveway.
"6 weeks." You say quietly. He starts laughing and you look at him with amusement.
"Does that mean-" He cuts himself off with a laugh. "That we made a baby-"
"At Bobby and Athena's party, yep." You chime in laughing along with him.
He smiles taking your hand in his and kissing the top of it. Looking into his eyes, you knew that soon, everything would be back to normal and you'd have a new addition to your family.
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Roronoa Zoro x F Reader - Relief
Summary: You’re injured, and haven’t gotten any alone time with your boyfriend, Roronoa Zoro. He offers to help you get some relief. ;)
Warnings: SMUT! 18+! Established relationship, female reader, making out, fingering, orgasms, mentions of p in v sex, creampie, cockwarming. Reader denied sex due to injuries.
WC: 1263
First time writing smut, but I figured it was good enough to post so here ya go! Enjoy!
18+! MDNI!
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You were on the deck of the Sunny, lounging in a chair and soaking up as much sun as you could. Chopper had finally let you out of the med bay after keeping you there for a week. During your last fight the crew got a little scuffed up, you especially taking the brunt of the damage. Besides the standard scrapes and bruises, you had a large gash running horizontally across the left side of your stomach, and another smaller one on your right thigh. You still hadn’t recovered fully, and to be honest you could hardly walk, but you were relieved to be out of that stuffy room.
Across the deck, you could see Usopp and Luffy fishing off the side of the boat, and Robin was enjoying a book. Franky was tinkering with a new gadget, and Nami was studying her maps to figure out the next place to go. You scanned the deck for your boyfriend, Zoro, but he was nowhere to be seen. Probably taking a nap somewhere, you thought to yourself. Almost on cue, you felt a looming presence over you, and you looked up to see him standing over you. “What are you doing out of the med bay? Your injuries aren’t even close to being healed.” he asked.
“Well hello to you too,” you retorted. “Chopper said I could come up on the deck to get some fresh air, that room was getting suffocating.”
Zoro frowned, clearly not happy with your answer. But if Chopper said it was okay, who was he to argue? You motioned to the seat next to yours, and he sat down carefully. “Did you walk up here yourself?” he questioned. “You didn’t seem like you could walk all that well yesterday.”
“I still can’t walk, honestly. Chopper and Sanji helped me get up here,” you answered.
“The cook? Why didn’t you ask me to help you?” he pouted.
“Because Chopper couldn’t find you anywhere, and Sanji was available. So he offered to help me,” you said. “By the way, where were you?”
Zoro shifted in his chair awkwardly. “Just busy taking care of something, that’s all,” he mumbled. You could see the blush creeping up towards his face, and you clued in on what he was referring to. Neither of you had gotten any alone time in quite a while, between preparations for your last fight, and dealing with the aftermath, it had been several weeks since either of you got any release. You were dying for some relief yourself, if you could only reach your hand down to do it, but the bandages got in the way. Before you could say anything to him about that, Sanji called everyone to dinner, and Zoro got up to help you hobble your way towards the dining room, before finally just picking you up to carry you there.
Dinner was mostly uneventful, and you spent it trying to come up with a way to ask Zoro to help you with your problem. He could handle himself just fine, but you would need a little assistance. You figured asking to spend some time together in his room, alone, would be the best option. From there you could broach the subject. “You wanna spend some alone time together?” he’d asked. “If it means you’ll rest, then sure.”
He carried you to his room, carefully laying you on his hammock. After some pleading, he reluctantly agreed to climb in with you, gingerly setting himself next to you and pulling you into his arms. He placed a soft kiss on top of your head. “Better?” he asked. You nodded your head in response. You both stayed like that for a while before he spoke up. “What did you want to talk about?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” you asked in response.
“Don’t play dumb, I know there’s something you want to ask me, or tell me. So just say it,” he continued.
“Oh, I um… it-it’s nothing, really,” you sputtered. You tried to look away, but his hand cupped your cheek, and he pulled your face to look at his. You found yourself unable to look away from him despite your best efforts. “I just… we haven’t really gotten to be intimate in a while, and now I have all these stupid injuries so we still can’t do anything. And I’d get myself off, but I can’t with these bandages in the way…” you rambled. Your face heated up as you spoke, unable to stop the spew of words from your mouth.
“So, you’re horny? Why didn’t you just say so?” Zoro chuckled.
“I don’t know…” you whined. His hand still on your cheek, he pulled you in for a tender kiss, one that quickly became heated. His other hand reached down to carefully squeeze your ass, and you gasped, giving him the opportunity to slot his tongue in your mouth. You made out for a while, feeling lust pooling at your core. You wanted him more than anything now, but you weren’t physically capable yet.
“We have to be careful; I don’t want your injuries to flare up,” he cautioned. “But I can still help you get some relief, okay?” You nodded eagerly, and he carefully pulled your pants and underwear down in one swift motion. His hand quickly dipped down to your core, groaning as he felt how wet you were. He carefully studied your face for any signs of discomfort before dipping a finger into your folds, gathering up some of the wetness and then circling his finger around your clit. You let out a breathy moan and arched your back, finally getting the touch you had been craving. He dipped two fingers inside and curled them up, massaging everywhere he knew would get you going. His mouth returned to yours, kissing you softly as he coaxed your first release out of you. You cried out in pleasure, and he smiled down at you, pulling his hand back. “That’s it,” he hummed. “Feel better?”
You nodded in affirmation, but you couldn’t help to want more. You knew it was risky, but you brought your hand down to his erection anyway and began to stroke him. He was quick to swat your hand away. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.
“Please Zoro, I need you. We can be careful, yeah? Wanna feel you fill me up,” you begged.
He simply shook his head at you. “It’s too risky with your injuries. But I promise as soon as you’re healed up fully, you’ll get as much of me as you can handle.”
“Zo, please?” you whimpered.
“Shh,” Zoro shushed you. He brought his hand back down and dipped his fingers in again, expertly moving them in and out of you at a quick pace. “Promise babe, soon as you’re healed, I’ll fill you up so full. Gonna stuff you full of my cum til you can’t hold anymore, let you sleep every night with my cock deep inside you. Just be patient for me.” His words brought you over the edge again, and you released all over his hand. He quickly kissed you to swallow the moans you let out. He rested his forehead against yours and smiled as you caught your breath.
“You promise?” you asked.
“Of course. Now try and get some rest,” he murmured. He pulled you into his arms again and you sighed contently. It didn’t take long for both of you to drift off to sleep, dreaming of how wonderful everything would be once you were all better.
#zoro x reader#x reader#one piece x reader#roronoa zoro x reader#zoro x reader smut#smut#roronoa zoro
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Best Broaching Machines In India - Steelmans Broaches
https://www.steelmans.com/broaching-machines.htm
#Table Up Broaching Machine#Broaching Machine#Vertical Broaching Machine#Broach manufacturer#broaches#hob#gear hobs#connecting rods & caps broach#Special Profile Broaches#Hexagon Broach#Gear Shaving Cutters#spline Rolling Rack Broach#Standard Broaches#Spline Rolling Rack Broaches#Keyway Individual Broaches#Pot Broaching#sub contract services#Broaching#keyway broach set
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Steps Towards Love
“You see how picky I am about my shoes and they only go on my feet.”
You know how meticulous you are when it comes to your shoes—the way you scrutinize every detail, from the heel's height to the impeccable alignment of the laces. They only go on your feet, after all, and your feet deserve nothing but the best. You remember the day Seungcheol first noticed this quirk of yours; how he watched you at the cafe, leaning against the wall, your arms crossed and eyes bright as you debated the merits of a pair of classic black pumps versus the daring red stilettos. You felt him watching, the warmth of his gaze enveloping you like a cocoon, and mentally, you added him to the list of things that occupied your thoughts that ever-growing list you never quite wanted to expand but couldn’t help but add to.
“Focused on them?” he asked with a teasing edge to his voice as he approached, a small smirk dancing on his lips. You had tried to mask your surprise, your cheeks betraying you as they flushed under his gaze. You hadn’t even noticed that he had walked in. “What’s wrong with these?” he gestured playfully to your feet, adorned with the current favorite pair, sleek black ankle boots that you had spent an hour picking from an array of options.
“Nothing!” you defended, perhaps too sharply. “Just making sure I don’t regret my choices. Shoes are a commitment, after all,” you added, pretending to shrug his playful distraction off. In truth, you loved the chaotic rhythm he brought into your world, an alluring contrast to your organized life.
Seungcheol had a way of enchanting you, effortlessly slipping in between the lines of your independence with each thoughtful conversation and gentle gesture. He never pushed, never chafed against your independence, but you could feel the determination in him, like a solid rock anchored deep beneath the surface. A month turned to two, and then four, and he was still there, a constant presence wrapped up in the tender possibilities of what could be.
“Okay, but really,” he said one day, seated across from you in your regular booth at the cafe, “you’ve got to give me a chance.” His voice was earnest, his eyes steady as they locked onto yours with a warmth that made your insides flutter. “I’ve put in the effort, haven’t I?” He gestured vaguely to the daily visits, to the elaborate jokes he told to make you laugh, to the way he would hold the door open and pull your chair out like you were the only woman in the world. “You can’t possibly be that picky about me too.”
You chuckled, fighting to contain the giddiness inside you. “I’m a woman of high standards,” you said playfully, even as you could feel your resolve waver. “My shoes are a reflection of my personality. They need to be perfect, just like the man I choose to go out with.”
He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling just a bit too adorably, and you had to look away to avoid losing your composure entirely. “I may not have all the perfect qualities you’re looking for... but I can make you laugh and smile more than anyone else. Isn’t that an important quality too?”
Your heart softened, caught in the warmth of his words. It was true; the way he made you feel was worth savoring. Yet you stubbornly clung to your independence, your headstrong stubbornness a shield against the vulnerability that came with love.
Days became weeks, and as winter crept in, the chill in the air was juxtaposed against the warmth that swelled in your chest at the thought of him. He was so patient, offering only sweet, lingering glances that felt like promises. Yet every time he broached the subject of a date, you deftly dodged.
But tonight, as darkness draped over the city and holiday lights twinkled like stars against the velvet sky, you found yourself hesitating. His voice floated over to you, mellifluous and hypnotic amidst the bustling sounds of the street as he said, “Let’s do something different this weekend. You bring your favorite shoes. I’ll plan a surprise, and we'll see where it takes us.”
The challenge settled heavily in the air between you, and you bit your lip, toes curling at the prospect of his plan. What if it turned out to be spectacular? What if it unraveled a world you had long kept neatly boxed away, out of reach? What if you didn’t want to return home after, your heart tethered too far from the independence you cherished?
You took a deep breath as your resolve tightened. “You know I’m picky,” you cautioned, though deep down, there was a hesitant flicker of excitement curling within you. It wasn’t just any shoes you had to choose, after all; they were an extension of yourself, the armor you wore as you navigated these risky new waters.
“Yes, and you know what? I’m entirely in love with your pickiness. You have exquisite taste but that doesn’t mean we can’t explore what lies beyond your comfort zone.” He leaned closer, a teasing glimmer in his eyes, “Besides, can’t we just see where the night leads us? Just like when you try new shoes?”
Something shifted in the air. You could feel the edges of your resolve softening. What if you let him peel back the layers, just this once? What if you decided to take a leap?
The weekend arrived, and as you stared at your reflection, you slid your feet into a new pair tantalizingly daring emerald heels that felt a bit too bold yet intoxicatingly freeing. They were a far cry from what you usually chose, and yet somehow, they filled you with an unsettling thrill. You were stepping out into the world, and tonight, maybe it would be more than just a night out.
When Seungcheol met you outside your apartment, his eyes lit up like fireworks at the sight of you. “Wow,” he breathed, taking a moment to drink in the vision before him, “you look stunning.” The sincerity in his voice melted any lingering apprehensions you had.
With each step you took beside him, the sharpness of the heels transformed into an exhilarating rhythm, reflective of the pounding of your heart. Each moment together felt sweeter than the last; his laughter mingled with the cool night air as you strolled through softly-lit streets, his hand brushing against yours before gently intertwining your fingers.
You didn’t know where the night was headed, but the possibilities seemed as endless as the stars above. You felt a shift maybe love could exist alongside independence, weaving itself through the fabric of your life rather than overpowering it.
And as you looked up into his eyes, seeing the affection etched there, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, allowing someone in wasn’t as frightening as you’d convinced yourself it was. After all, just like your shoes, love could be a commitment worth the careful selection a journey of its own, if only you dared to take that first step.
#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#svt x reader#svt fluff#seventeen#svt carat#svt#svt imagines#seventeen smut#svt smut#svt scoups#seventeen scoups#scoups x reader#scoups#seungcheol x you#seungcheol fluff#seungcheol imagines#seungcheol x reader#seungcheol scenarios#seungcheol fanfic#seventeen seungcheol#choi seungcheol#svt seungcheol
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so ummm. i also caught cato sicarius fleas. idk what happened but now i want to be bullied by the big arrogant blueberry. send help.
[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]
Author’s note: I hope this is what you meant by bullying cause uuuuuuuuuh -microwave noises-
Summary: Cato Sicarius tires of being your just your escort.
Relationship: Cato Sicarius/Fem!Reader
Warnings: Lewd but not nsfw, dubcon, bullying sorta, Titus is an Ultrachad™ and Sicarius gets jealous you like him and tries to show you who the captain of 2nd company really is (which is still Titus in my heart but in this case no) Nonconsensual kissing, Armor kink, choking kinda, Demeaning behavior
He is worth more than this.
Cato Sicarius is captain of 2nd company, one of the most honored Ultramarines in this millennium. He is worth more than guard duty, escorting around baseline humans. One of Guilliman’s prized diplomats perhaps might be worth more than a common guardsmen, but in his eyes, you’re nothing more than an idea he deems largely stupid.
His genefather had been collecting diplomats as of late. Sicarius sees little need in it, but as his Primarch insisted he grits his teeth and bares it. He must have ideas beyond his scope to understand, though it doesn’t mean that Sicarius doesn’t struggle to see the logic.
“Motion sick, Captain Sicarius?”
One of the younger marines dares to joke at his petulant expression.
“We are worth more than shuffling around diplomats,”
Sicarius spits out in response, and you speak up. You’ve been within hearing distance this entire trip, and even in the silence everyone could hear Sicarius seething.
“Your fellows don’t seem to mind.”
You’ve heard from them that Sicarius is more than a harsh captain; He’s a stoic, pompous man in need of a hit to his ego. Even by Ultramarine standards. Once you’d broached the subject, the men in 2nd company escorting you a previous time had been quite eager to complain.
The Thunderhawk lands and you can hear the engines kill off one by one, and the rear ramp falls. There’s a significant gap between it and the ground, and while the Ultramarines walk down as normal, for you it’s a hefty drop.
Lieutenant Titus, whom you’ve had multiple interactions with before at this point, turns just before you’re about to jump and reaches a hand outward. You accept his hand and take the jump off the ramp.
“Thank you, Titus.”
He nods, but says nothing. You follow beside him and for a moment realize you’ve lost sight of Sicarius, before Titus speaks up and distracts you.
“You’ve already spoken to Lord Gulliman?” You nod and cross your arms, entering the massive fortress and escaping from the harsh winds.
“Yes. Only to give me a few necessary details. I imagine he has far more to do than speak to me.” You laugh and gently pat the arm of Titus’ armor, fingers brushing against the dents and scratches.
“But we can only hope they’ll see reason," you say, referring to the planetary officials you're currently going to meet. "I’d hate for lord Guilliman to be forced on employing harsher measures.”
Titus nods in a gentle understanding, and you continue deeper into this fortress area you’ve been welcomed to. Sicarius elects to post himself outside of the room you’re delegated to have this meeting in, alongside two other of his men. The rest, including Titus, whose face he cannot stand anymore at the moment, will post inside.
With his hearing and the systems in his helmet he can just hear the goings on inside the closed room, hearing your lighter voice in contrast to the others in the room.
She's a useful and gifted diplomatic negotiator, Guilliman had said about you the first time he had placed Sicarius in charge of escorting you. Make sure she isn't harmed, her work is important to keeping Ultramar under control.
If the old planets of Ultramar don't wish to conform with Guilliman's return, they should be applying force to demand they submit, not touting around fellow baseline humans to placate them.
Sicarius', stuck in his own head, wrinkles his forehead and scoffs. A younger marine beside him looks for just a moment, before rubbing his nose with his gauntlet and looking away. Sicarius can hear you issuing farewells now, and since there was a notable lack of yelling, he assumes it went well enough.
Sicarius turns to the other marines beside him, his hand on the pommel of his chainblade. He turns just as the doors open, and gestures to his men while you stand behind them.
“All of you start returning to the Thunderhawk and watch our perimeter, I will escort her back myself.” They hesitate for only the tiniest moment, but do begin to take their leave. They have no ability to refuse their captain, no matter how odd the request.
You watch them walk past you, before Sicarius’ voice cuts the air like a knife and forces your eyes to him.
“With me.”
You don’t have any reason to refuse him per se, so you follow him with an apprehensive feeling, and expression.
"Shouldn't we return to the-"
"Quiet."
Your lip curls, though you're still apprehensive as you end up somewhere far from where you entered, and he stops your walking his a rough hand on your shoulder. Astartes are lightning fast; He doesn't it before you even truly realize. With said hand he pushes you against the wall, and knocks the air from your lungs, and his hand moves to your face instead. He presses your cheeks inward, your breath is harsh as your fingers try to pull at his gauntlet.
“What are you doing?”
You say trying to wrench yourself free, fear in your eyes. Such a task is impossible however, and Sicarius uses his other hand to pull off his helmet and hang it on his thigh. His short hair is messy, and his cheeks are flush red. With anger or something else you have no idea, though you know he is furious.
“You’ve gotten too comfortable with your lack of respect; Being Lord Guilliman’s favorite.” You lose any bit of snark when you realize Sicarius is deathly serious. An angry astartes isn’t something you ever want to face, and color drains from your face as you realize how tightly you're stuck between him and the wall.
"You're far too delicate and small to be walking around like you can order Ultramarines around. Titus only allows you because he knows he's being watched after his incident."
His nose wrinkles, and he glances away as his lips shift, trying to find the words.
“Why do I always get stuck with you,” He growls, speaking about how he shouldn’t be escorting around Imperium parchment pushers. You hesitantly look up at him, face red from his tight grip.
"I," You open your mouth just a bit, trying to find something to say that might calm him down, though it seems like he's mad at something in his own head, as much as he is you.
But you can't find the words, nor would you even have the time to say them, as Sicarius' face leans downward to smash his lips against yours, and freeze you in the sheer shock of it. You have no hope of pushing him away despite your effort and his gauntlet keeps your face firmly forward; You can feel his hot breath on your skin, and his even hotter skin against your own. His lips are rough, you can feel tiny scars rub against your own softer lips, his hand gripping your jaw forcing your mouth somewhat open. His kiss is so angry it doesn't feel entirely like one, when he moves his teeth brush against your bottom lip, and for a moment you think he's going to bite it.
When he pulls away you can hear the soft pop of your lips separating, and see the shine of your spit on his mouth.
“Sicar-“
He does it again, your hands grasp the collar of his chestplate for leverage to try and push him away, and to stay upright. He’s barely letting you breathe, and when his hand moves from your jaw you’re gasping for air. Though his hand simply moves to press against your collarbone, still keeping you pinned between the wall and him; It's just high enough that it slightly presses against your neck, and you can feel his one armored knee force itself between your legs. You smack his chestplate desperately for air, and he pulls his mouth away from you for a brief moment as you gasp.
He only returns moments later however, but in that brief moment you see his face had less anger than it had earlier. You feel his nose press against your cheek, how cold his armor feels as you desperately grasp it.
Your legs wobble as you groan into his mouth, and when he finally pulls himself far enough away from you and takes his supporting knee from between your legs, you crumble to your knees holding your chest and taking in air.
On the floor you're at height with his thighs, and he leans over just enough to grab your face gently.
“If you’re going to be in my company again, I’ll expect you to be on better behavior. You should act as soft as you look.”
His hand leaves your face, gently pushing as he does.
“Captain Sicarius, are you still returning to the Thunderhawk?” An astartes calls him with vox in his helmet, and Sicarius grabs it off of his belt. It'll help hide how red his lips are from how hard he kissed you, your own looking similar; He wipes his mouth with the back of his armored hand before slipping it on and responding.
“We are. I’ll be there in a moment. Just a small detour”
Sicarius casts a glance to you, out of breath with your hand on your chest, before grabbing your arm and gently hauling you up to your feet.
"Not a word about this."
He says, and you can feel his gaze through his helmet. You wipe your mouth with your hand, feeling your swollen lips and the spit on your face.
"Lead the way, Captain Sicarius."
#jk after this you and Titus go fuck nasty and Sicarius get Ultracockblocked#Getting bullied by Cato Sicarius timeline#space marine x reader#Cato Sicarius x reader#reader insert#warhammer 40k x reader#reader#mywriting
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We're finally back!
So after mediating between the rest of the assailants and their (still alive) client, they're able to sort out that some missing family members the group were looking for didn't actually get kidnapped, but joined their client's service voluntarily. It was uncomfortable and awkward for everyone to come to terms with the fact that the people the group had set a house on fire for had actually not wanted to return home, and Amoré decides that she's too exhausted to pay much attention to these delicate domestic matters.
She takes a seat on a charred chair and nods off for a while, eventually coming to surrounded by Sylphi, Kaa (the tiefling she pawned Sylphi off on earlier), and a purple dragon born girl. Sylphi cheerily introduces the girl as Ko Kiri, a former arsonist in the group of assailants they had just been fighting. Amoré is baffled, though Sylphi is quick to explain Ko Kiri was only involved because she needed the money, and tries to get Amoré to join their sharing circle.
Amoré is reluctant to share anything with anyone, though Sylphi is able to get her to reluctantly admit that her favorite color is gold, which leads to a drawn out argument between her and Ko Kiri about gold's status as a color. Amoré suddenly realizes how young this girl is, though Ko Kiri insists she is an adult by dragon born standards.
Eventually, Sylphi tries to broach the subject of Amoré's fainting spell earlier. While Amoré feels a cold bit of dread in her as Sylphi continues to ask questions, she cannot remember anything specific about what happened past the window breaking in the study. Both Sylphi and Kaa insist that it happened, but Amoré finds herself digging her heels in the more they try to convince her.
Diana eventually breaks up the argument when she returns from dealing with the city guard and Kaa volunteers to see them back to their inn safely. A carriage is called for them and to Amoré's astonishment, Sylphi declares that they're taking Ko Kiri with them despite Amoré's concerns about just taking a known arsonist with them, no questions asked.
She is ultimately outvoted, and it is an awkward and mostly silent ride back to the inn. But Kaa sees them off, and Ko Kiri ends up staying the night in their room, though Amoré makes sure Sylphi know that if they wake up to a room on fire she's blaming her.
As always, Diana : @wolfy1298
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#duo rong#dnd character scrapbook#dungeons and dragons#duo chronicles#amore bellridge#diana blackthorn#sylphi#birch#ko kiri#kaa#dnd party#dnd art#dnd pcs#dnd npcs#dnd characters#sorcerer#rogue#druid#heavily inspired by the so busted ending from the suicide squad#this was supposed to be simple and then anatomy uppercut me#digital art
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an arrow, a spark. yan!childe
index / next / beta reader @malewifeharem
When they assign you to a new division in the Fatui, you think nothing much of it. People were always being moved around in the organisation, people disappeared under mysterious circumstances, new recruits were popping up out of nowhere.
What was strange, however, was whose division you were assigned to. Fatui Harbinger Tartaglia, all the way in Liyue, no less - or Ajax, as you knew him better.
“I'll be sorry to see you go,” Signora says from behind you.
You jump, nearly dropping the stack of papers in your hands. She stands in the doorway, imposing as always, yet the air she gives off implies she's left off a “darling” at the end of her sentence.
Madame Signora's always been fond of you for reasons you've never known, though that often meant being stuck in dull, dull meetings and organising her paperwork for her.
You salute her, then laugh nervously. In the midst of your packing, your office looks like a hurricane hit it, stacks of books and papers scattered everywhere. Not the best look to put forward to your boss.
“So, Liyue.” She takes a step, placing her right inside the threshold of your office. Behind her, her new bodyguard slash secretary shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Quite a ways from home, yes?”
“It is.” The land of the Geo Archon, Morax, but most importantly his creation of mora. A warm place by far, considering Snezhnaya's standards, but its trade sector was coldly competitive.
“How do you feel about it?”
How did you feel? The question catches you by surprise, much like her appearance in your office. Never before had you been asked your personal opinion on anything before, least of all by a harbinger.
It’s just work.
“It’s a great opportunity to expand my horizons and learn about another culture, ma’am.”
She chuckles elegantly. “A textbook answer. Good. It’d be useful if you kept those same wits around Tartaglia.”
You blink, a cloud of dust distracting you briefly from what she’d just said. “...Tartaglia, ma’am?”
“Oh, yes.” Her red lips curve into a wry smile. “He requested for you specifically. He’s been pestering me, in fact, to let him have you.”
You remain silent, unsure of how to respond.
“But look at me, holding you up. I do hope you have fun while in Liyue - it can be quite the interesting place, after all.”
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You don’t quite know what all the fuss about Tartaglia is about till lunch, when you venture into the mess hall with Nadia.
She doesn't even wait for the two of you to sit down before broaching the topic. “Did you know the eleventh is back is Snezhnaya?”
“He is?” You stab at your potatoes with your fork, eyeing her cheekily. “And I don't suppose you're in the market for a partner at the same time, are you?”
“Oh, not a harbinger.” She laughs. “That’s way too high profile for me.”
You eye the raised platform at the front of the hall where a long table’s been set. It’s more for show than anything else, seeing as how the harbingers have never once found themselves privy to dining with you common soldiers. There are twelve high-backed, intricately carved mahogany chairs, and one in the middle, larger than the rest, gilded with gold and complete with red velvet cushions. The Tsaritsa’s. Yet another reminder of who you all served.
Nadia's chatter washes over you like a soothing wave. You're grateful to have a friend when you go abroad, if only for distractions like this if nothing else.
She wants to marry and settle down already - a noble sentiment for a young Snezhnayan lady. You think any man would be lucky to have her.
For yourself, you're not so sure.
“Ooh!” She nudges you. “Don't look, but Vlad's over there. Isn't he cute?”
Against her wishes, you turn your head. He looks like any regular Snezhnayan man to you, blonde and with an angular face that could’ve been carved from the frozen earth itself. “Well, I guess. He looks kind.”
“And he's coming to Liyue too!” Nadia stage whispers.
“Exciting.” You raise an eyebrow.
You excuse yourself from your meal after a while, leaving the mess hall alone. Nadia's conversation was entertaining but exhausting, provided one could keep up with her endless stream of news and gossip from various sources.
But it's from this river of information that you sift out a tiny gold nugget: that Harbinger Tartaglia would be in the archery fields if he weren't busy preparing for his return to Liyue with his new crew.
Perhaps it's curiosity, or pure boredom that drives you outside into the cold.
The walk is familiar, ice crunching under your boots. It was admittedly difficult to walk on snow and ice - if you were anything but Snezhnayan, born and raised.
Your fingertips tingle with the phantom itch to hold a bow. It'd been a while…
You follow the path, rounding the building to a frozen field. A number of wooden targets and straw dummies are lined up, some in varying states of disrepair. A small hangover, an incline, really, provides minimal coverage against the wind like a very tiny rock against a great river.
As expected, there’s no one there. You feel a small sense of relief at having missed that chance encounter.
The new recruits train elsewhere. It’s a place only for those who want to exercise the muscles you rarely get to use, being cooped up in front of a desk all day.
You take up position at the edge of the field, summoning your bow and fixing three arrows to it.
They arc in a graceful, shining line, each landing perfectly in the middle of its respective target board.
You affix another arrow to the shelf, taking a deep breath. The world narrows to the point of your arrow and the fletching on the arrow you landed.
Dimly, you’re aware of the shuffling of feet behind you, quickly hushed. Probably just another of your fellow soldiers who wanted to get out of the noise of the mess hall. You pay them no mind.
You release the arrow, reload, release, reload. Three arrows land in rapid succession, splitting each of the previous arrows neatly down the shaft.
You exhale, and your senses return to you. The cold embraces you again, and you shake the tension out of your shoulders, putting your bow away. You can almost feel its sigh, already impatient for the next occasion it could perform.
Slow clapping. “An impressive show, soldier.”
You spin on your heel.
Tartaglia stands at the top of the incline, flanked by two bodyguards. As if he needed them within the walls of the Fatui stronghold, the youngest of all the harbingers, who single-handedly dug his fingers into the fabric of Liyue to get the Tsaritsa a foothold.
It’s been quite a while since you last saw him, you realise. He looks a little sharper, a little leaner, his gaze perhaps a little more complex, as if he were thinking of the future while simultaneously discerning all your secrets. The hydro vision on his belt winks at you in the cold light.
Standing on the incline, he looks like a conqueror, surveying his land. It's a good look for a harbinger to have.
“My lord.” You salute him smartly, tamping down your embarrassment at noticing them late. “My apologies for taking up your time.”
“Oh, no need for all that, padruga.” He comes down the slope, the bodyguards following a respectful distance behind. “It's always a delight to watch you in action.”
What had Madame Signora said? “He requested for you specifically”?
Ajax- no, Tartaglia, is a good head taller than you, maybe more. As he approaches, you have to incline your head to meet the unfamiliar gleam in his blue eyes. Whatever could he want from you?
“You've been well, I trust?” He summons his bow, and you take the cue to move a step backward, leaving him room to shoot.
“Well enough, may the Tsaritsa continue to watch over me.”
To your surprise, he snorts a laugh, loosing his arrow. It strikes deep into the wood, igniting a spark as it scrapes against yours. “A devotary? Some things certainly have changed around here.”
One of the bodyguards shifts his feet. You glance back at him, then at Tartaglia. “Is a harbinger not also subservient to her majesty?”
He chuckles. “Of course he is. I’m just… surprised.” Another arrow, another target. “You never struck me as the type to believe.”
You remain silent as the last arrow hits its mark. All just to the right of your own arrows, pressed so close they seem on the verge of falling off.
“Excellent marksmanship, my lord.” The impersonal compliment comes easily to your lips. You clasp your hands behind your back.
A gentle breeze begins to blow (the kind that might have killed a man in lesser clothing), unsettling his already unruly ginger hair. The bodyguards adjust their stances, as if roused by the cold wind.
“Certainly.” He grins, a self-assured smile, unhidden by a mask. You’re grateful for yours in that regard - no need to hide your emotions or expressions too well when all Fatui are shrouded in uniform secrecy. “Nothing but the best to serve her majesty.”
Somewhere deep within the halls, a bell begins to toll.
You snap to a salute. “Thank you for your time, my lord,” you say, as if he hadn’t been the one to seek you out for conversation first. “I must be taking my leave now.”
padruga: friend (female) according to google
— word count: 1598. thank you for reading!
#cloud writes#yandere genshin#genshin#childe#yandere childe#genshin childe#yan!childe#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere#tartaglia#genshin tartagalia
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hello I would like the kevallison smut ?? Please
The promised kevallison headcanons (aka how the two of them figure out what the other person is into + how they might go about doing it)
When they start hooking up it’s all pretty standard stuff. Allison gets him off after a game. Kevin eats her out if there’s ten minutes free in between classes and an empty dorm room. They’re a booty call before, during or after a night out, or a no-strings-attached way to get some frustration off their chest. Their friends-with-benefits situation is more often than not just a quick fuck when they’re bored. But it's kind of just… that? It's just fucking. It's a handful of different positions, in a handful of different places, but nothing more than fucking, finishing, and leaving. They don’t feel a need to bring it any further though, in some ways hesitant that the other will catch feelings if it gets too intimate. But from the get-go their agreement is clear - if either starts to get attached, or jealous, or even thinks that it might be worth pursuing, they stop. It doesn’t happen, of course, but in the beginning they really try to err on the side of caution until they know that for certain.
There’s one of two ways that their casual hook ups becomes more... interesting every now and again: one) accidentally. two) intentionally.
If it is accidental, I think they stumble upon the other’s kinks by the Grace of God. It's a quick fuck that turns into something more because one of them picks up on how the other's demeanor changes and they realise oh. oh. That did something for them. The moment when it happens is so intoxicating and sexually charged; So intense at the realisation of how turned on the other person is, that they’re just waiting for someone in the dorm room over, or outside the bathroom at a party, or in the almost-empty parking lot to ask did anyone hear Allison and Kevin fucking last night? For either of them, single and used to quick fucks with strangers that don't mean anything nor have the longevity for experimenting with, getting to dip into their fantasies is unparalleled pleasure.
If it’s accidental, it’s a pleasant surprise for them both, and Kevin and Allison have that in common - they are both incredibly, heavily turned on by their fuck-buddies feeling satisfied. It happens, where sometimes Kevin just wants to be blown without returning the gesture, or where Allison wants to come without having to put in the effort it takes to give back. More often than not, though, whether it be with each other or with other people, they're most satisfied when the other person is satisfied, too. So when the topic of kinks and turn ons is broached, or accidentally revealed, it doesn't matter that it's Kevin, or that it's Allison. When they've been fucking for long enough that they find themselves discovering these things, they're comfortable enough with each other to not feel embarrassed about what happens when they have sex. If it makes her wet, and it keeps him hard, then it doesn't matter. They don't talk about their sex lives outside of when or where it happens - a kink or two isn't going to change that.
For Kevin, sweet submissive baby boy who just lives to be praised - oh, when Allison finds out, it opens this door for changing their dynamics that she hadn't even realised existed. Kevin gets so turned on that he practically melts, and Allison eats it up like it's the hottest thing she's ever laid eyes on.
They've found themselves standing up against a wall in a bathroom at a party somewhere, too many suggestive looks across the room leading to a desperately desired handjob or two, and Kevin is fumbling with the buckle of his belt. He struggles with it for a second, before pulling the black leather out from it's square frame and Allison offhandedly says good job with a laugh as she trails kisses up his neck and her fingers down his stomach. She feels his reaction to her words before she notices how his eyes glaze over with the thoughts in his head; how he stills at her words, how he's yearning through his sigh when she follows with a knowing whisper of oh, you want me to tell you how good you're being?
Him in her hand, the long acrylic nails of her free hand dragging lines down his neck, Allison feels how needy he is and softly purrs in his ear to tell her how much he wants it. It's not lost on him how she plays with him like putty between her tender fingers, but still he looks into her eyes with his eyebrows knitted into each other, too close to argue; The please that escapes his lips trapped in between a gasp and a moan is rebutted with her sultry say it again. I want to hear that pretty voice beg. It takes the stalling of the rhythm in her working hand before he finds the ability to whimper out his desperate please, please, please. She's using her free hand to hold his face still, their eyes locked together, while he can barely keep himself in one piece. Her thumb is soft over his lips, brushing over little gasps and short breaths, holding him while she whispers a question and he falls apart in her hands.
If Kevin loves to be topped by strong women, Allison loves to hear a man moan. And she’s never heard him like this before, his lips drawn apart just inches from hers, one hand steadying himself against the wall and the other tugging and pawing at the skin of the small of her back. She doesn't let him look away as she guides him to climax with her soft words of gentle praise. How pretty he looks when he's trying his hardest to be quiet, how well he's doing at keeping himself composed.
Allsion doesn't care that she's accidentally unlocked this submissive side of Kevin; firstly, he's hot as hell when he's this desperate, and it's not as if she's going to be leaving that bathroom and calling him a good boy on the court, because that's not how this works. She's fucked him angry and she's fucked him needy - the passion of fulfilled fantasy only working on a different level to anything else.
(When he's caught his breath and started to clean himself up, she washes her hands and admires her work; his rosy cheeks burning up as she watches him in the mirror. She pushes herself up onto the vanity, and when he can finally bare to look at her again, she says I'm proud of you with a playful smile. Kevin covers his face to laugh in semi-embarrassment, his head shaking as he finds himself in between her legs. They don't talk about it too much before he returns the favour.)
Then there's, Allison, sweet Allison, who's interests work in harmony like a perfect composed song. We knows she loves to hear the men she sleeps with, but there's two things that really get her going that more often than not go hand in hand - rough sex, and loud sex. Living in dorms, it's hard to indulge, especially the second, but usually she'll just pull him close, with his lips to her ear or hers to his. Allison gets off on hearing the person she's fucking, and Kevin is not an exception to that.
They've somehow had a stroke of luck - an empty house in Columbia and some time to kill. Kevin is on the edge of the bed, and Allison is facing Kevin while sitting on his lap, her knees resting on either side of him, in a skirt that is already so short that it's barely even there. They're making out, and Kevin isn't really thinking, but he slaps her ass - something he'd done once or twice before, but never that hard, never that loud. Allison sits back, hands on his shoulders with her mouth open wide. She doesn't get the chance to finish her questioning what are you doing? Before his mischievous smile curls around, what, this? as he laughs and does it again. When she stands up off of him in a half-protest, shaking her finger at how close he was getting to really getting her going, he follows her up. He stands in front of her with feigned apologies for his boldness. She leans into his kiss, with arms wrapped tight around her waist, but instead of pouting his lips, he picks her up and throws her back onto the bed while she scream-laughs.
Body over body, on top of her then, a hand finds it's way in between strands of shiny blonde. A hand that she takes into hers, guiding his fist to grasp a handful of her hair. When he doesn't hold it hard enough she tugs it gently, keeping his fist closed with her hand around it. Looking down at her, he purses his lips with an oh that pauses his other hand while it pushes up her skirt to touch her over her panties. Reading him while waiting for the laugh that never comes is agonisingly long, as she braces herself for the mortifying conversation that he was not going to be entertaining it. Instead he waits for her hand to trail away before pulling her head, hard, back into the bed. And when she shuts her eyes and parts her lips in pleasure, he is quick to bring his hand up to her chin, tilting her head back. The two smallest of his fingers fingers tuck themselves neatly behind her ear, the other two tight between her jawline and her cheekbone. The ball of his thumb is resting on her chin. She doesn't stop him when his thumb trails down from her cupid's bow and into her mouth. She doesn't stop him when he takes it out hold it around her throat, either. Kevin is careful to scatter wet bruises down her chest where they won't be seen. When he's standing back to take off his pants and she’s lifting her top over her head, he asks, you want it hard? and she responds do you even fucking have to ask?
Her skirt is up over her hips and her thong down her thighs. He’s on his knees with her legs over his thighs, maybe he’s pinning her hands down above her head with one big hand over her little wrists. Headboard banging, unrestrained volume, handprints on ass cheeks and scratches across spines. Allison gets sex-drunk when he manhandles her. It’s sloppy, it’s messy, it’s loud, it’s so hot that it’s on fire. It’s eye-rolling, being in a daze afterwards type of fucking. It’s mascara running down cheeks, how the fuck am I supposed to look anyone in the eye after having that done to me type of fucking. It’s needing to have a shower immediately afterwards type of sweaty, messy fucking.
(It’s probably one of the only times they almost/kind of get caught. Not because of the noise, or the sex itself but because of the aftermath. Andrew and Neil clock INSTANTLY the missing and changed details when they regroup - how Kevin’s hair is freshly washed, how Allison has taken her heavy makeup off leaving only a fresh coat of mascara and some lipgloss remaining. How they can barely look at each other in case it reminds them of what has just happened. Their puffy lips, their general daze. Yeah, they fly a little too close to the sun that time - not enough time afterwards to recuperate from an absolutely dirty, filthy, fucking.)
If it's an intentional thing, a discussion about what they're into, and they know before getting into it/it's a conscious choice/it's intentional/some sort of discussion/WHATEVER? There's a few ways I could potentially see it possibly coming up.
A game of Never Have I Ever or some other drinking game with the group and the discussions of kinks come up; Kevin drinks when somebody mentions a praise kink, or being dominated. Allison drinks when somebody mentions liking it rough. Their looks to each other are quick but knowing, Kevin's raised eyebrows when Allison drinks to say she doesn't mind being degraded, the flick of her eyes when he drinks to say he doesn't mind begging for it.
They don't hang around after hooking up, usually. Clean up, get dressed, and leave. That's the routine. But they're talking afterwards for a little while, and the subject of fantasies comes up, and while shes fixing her makeup and tying up her hair she asks him what's the one thing he'd go crazy for. he considers it for a little bit but then gets embarrassed because it's a way harder thing to talk about when you're not actively turned on or drunk. They offer each other tiny pieces as they joke about it, starting tame before they eventually just say it out straight. (she calls him princess when she's leaving and he calls her a slut before she shuts the door.)
They ask each other outright. Kinda similar to accidentally figuring it out but they ask each other for it instead of the other person just doing something and stumbling upon it. Maybe Kevin asks her to tell him how good he feels and she asks why, are you into that? and they like. talk through it . Do you like it when I ask you this? Can I call you this? Do you like it when I tell you you're doing such a good job? Talking through sex can be so hot and even hearing the questions out loud sets the imagination off on a fucking marathon. Maybe Allison asks can you choke me? and he asks her how she likes it before agreeing. Do you like it when I hold you like this? Do you want me to spit in your mouth? Do you want to shut the fuck up and listen to what you do to me? It's a much more thorough discussion than them simply going oh, i think the other person has [blank] kink, so i'm just gonna go ahead and do that. It's a request, instead. Both of them knowing what they want and knowing how to ask for it? Yeaaaahhhh
#I can’t stress it enough I do not ever think they date#I don’t think they even consider it#they’re so happy with just fucking if there’s no one else around#they don’t get jealous#yeah maybe at some point it happens a little more often than it should#but there’s an end point to it#always has been always will be#also they're both switches#which i know we want kevin to be a bottom soooooo. bad#but look at him#(you can't)#LOOK AT HIM#he fucks#thats just the truth#kevin day#allison reynolds#aftg#all for the game#kevallison#they laugh alot when they hook up#if u cant tell#how do u describe this kind of writing? it’s not a fic#it’s more than a hc I guess but writing like this is not the same as writing like it’s a fic#it’s pure description#so I’d happily write some actual descriptive smut but this is what I’ve got rn instead#mine#ask
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