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anyroads · 1 year

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OK you know what, if we're gonna talk about Bake Off then fuck it, let's do this.

It used to be this wholesome, lovely show! We used to watch it for the bakers! And the learning! And the light banter and occasional bit of coy innuendo! What happened?

Channel 4 happened. When they bought the show they made a number of changes, most of them Not Good™️. Not just in the sense of them resulting in a lot of 😬 and 🫠 moments, but in the sense of how they changed the show's purpose, atmosphere, and brand.

Look, I know most people are just like, "whatever, it's just a baking show," and yeah, sure. But it's one of the UK's most successful TV exports, and where it once shifted the tone of reality competition to being wholesome and supportive of contestants, it's since moved towards creating tension at the contestants' cost. So aside from the fact that most people watching it signed up to watch a nice show, it has also shifted the goalposts of what that even means. And that, lovelies and gentlefolk, is some bullshit.

I decided to break my rant analysis into four main parts: theme weeks, the hosts, the judges, and the bakers. Let's get to it!

Theme Weeks:

If you watch Bake Off, you know the show's always had a specific theme for each week. The staples that come up in most seasons are:

cake

biscuit

bread

pudding/dessert

pastry

patisserie

Less common but consistent are things like caramel and chocolate week.

Then there are the fun episodes! When GBBO was on the BBC, this started out with things tea week, tarts, pies, tray bakes, basically little tangents still focused on emphasizing specific baking skills. In Series 6 (still on the BBC) they had their first nation-focused theme week with French week -- fairly innocuous given that a lot of patisserie is French, France and England share much more culture than either cares to admit [Norman Flag dot gif], and it was a nice change from watching Paul make the bakers do recipes that involved boiling things while talking about how wonderful boiled doughs are (are they, Paul? Are they?).

The show kept mixing it up with innocuous themes like advanced dough and alternative ingredients weeks, European cakes, Victorian week, batter week, and botanical week. And while it was frustrating to watch Paul Hollywood mispronounce things like the Hungarian Dobos Torta and lecture bakers on babka when he clearly knew nothing about it (or about Jewish baking in general, go off Past Me), the show's general attitude was that the judges had their own opinions, which were separate from the immutable facts around the chemistry of baking (more on this later) and shouldn't affect how bakers are judged.

After the show moved to Channel 4, the number of themed weeks increased and more of them focused on specific countries. In 6 seasons on the BBC, there were only two country-focused theme weeks, and in 5 seasons on Channel 4 there have been five. And while they've also had themes like vegan baking, roaring 20s, the 1980s, spice week, etc. the show has really started to go hard on exoticizing other cultures in outright disrespectful and racist ways. There's been Italian and Danish week, German, Japanese (it wasn't, it was East Asian week), and now Mexican week (which doesn't touch on interspersed Jewish bakes that didn't get a theme week, like versions of bagels and babka set as technical challenges that were borderline hate crimes and mansplained by a guy who has no idea how to make either and once wrote in a cookbook that challah was traditionally eaten during Passover). Each time the hosts played up the theme with racist bits and jokes that can be used as evidence in court if your case is "why should shows with scripted content have a professional writing staff."

Which touches on other issues the show has now...

The Hosts:

When GBBO was on the BBC, the show was hosted by ✨Mel Giedroyc✨ and ✨Sue Perkins✨. They encouraged the bakers! They'd hold stuff for them sometimes! They were interested in them! If a baker had a breakdown, they would start singing copyrighted material to render the footage unusable! When the show moved to Channel 4, they left, though I'm not unconvinced that Channel 4 offered them impossible to accept contracts to force them out so they could rebrand the show. They replaced them with Sandy Toksvig and Noel Fielding. Sandy was a lovely host in the vein of Mel and Sue, and she and Noel had a relatively sweet rapport, but she left a few seasons ago and was replaced by Matt Lucas.

Noel Fielding is mostly known for his quirky brand of comedy, a sort of British Zooey Deschanel who's goth from the neck up, an upperclass British gay divorcee from the neck down, and basically an early 60s Beatle re: trousers. Matt Lucas has almost definitely never watched a single episode of GBBO and his most redeeming quality is his thinly veiled contempt for Paul Hollywood.

The two treat the baking tent as their personal playground. Far from the supportive attitude of Mel and Sue, they tend to get in the bakers' way during the most stressful moments, especially when they try to do hilarious "comedy" bits (I can't not put that in quotes) like Noel's talking wooden spoon thing, or Matt talking over Noel to do time calls. During theme weeks like Japanese and Mexican week, they do culture-specific bits that are both racist ("just Juan joke" and "is Mexico a real place?") and unsurprising, given that both Matt and Noel did blackface on their respective sketch shows and absolutely could and should have known better because it was already the current fucking century.

All this to say, there's now a separation between the bakers and the hosts, as if they're on different shows. The hosts are doing their own thing and the bakers are doing GBBO. The show has gotten meaner to the bakers, and the hosts aren't there to support them anymore, they're just there to be comic relief. Because when you refocus your show on stressing the bakers the fuck out, you need a forced laugh I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

The Judges:

First of all, a sincere congratulations to Paul Hollywood who managed to squeeze I jUsT cAmE bAcK fRoM mExIcO aNd YeT sTiLL pRoNoUnCe PiCo De GaLLo As 'PiKa De KaLLa' and I aM aN eXpErT oN s'MoReS wHiCh aRe MaDe WiTh DiGeStiVe BiScUiTs AcCoRdiNg tO mE, aN eXpErT oN s'MoReS, just two in a giant pile of astoundingly wrong hot takes, into a short enough time span that they all aired within Liz Truss's term as Prime Minister. A true man of accomplishments.

In the interest of fairness, I need to preface this with a disclaimer that, due to the fact that I've been watching Bake Off for most of its run, I'm biased. Specifically, I can't stand Paul Hollywood's smarmy, classist, egomaniac ass because he's proven time and again he's more interested in looking smart than actually knowing what he's talking about. Since the show moved to Channel 4, they've changed the occasional handshake Paul would give bakers to the HoLlYwOoD hAnDsHaKe™️. It's gone from being an emphasis of someone's skill to a goal, a reward, and one that emphasizes the judges' place above the bakers.

The judges used to function as teachers, imparting their skills and insights to the bakers. When the show was on the BBC, the voiceover leading to a judging would focus on the bakers' work being finished, saying how it will now be evaluated based on their skill and how well they met the brief. The voiceovers now, on Channel 4, focus on the judging (literally saying something along the lines of, "the bakers will now be judged by Prue and Paul"). There is a clear distinction Channel 4's producers have made, to mark that the show is now about whether or not the judges approve, not whether the brief was understood and executed well. On the BBC, it was irrelevant whether the judges liked a particular flavor, as long as the bake was well-made. Now, the bakers are expected to know the judges tastes and cater to them, which is frankly bullshit. A judge doesn't have to like a flavor to know whether or not it was executed well, ie. is it carrying a bake and was it meant to etc.

The judges have been turned into a brand. Cynically, Channel 4 knows that by building them up and focusing the show more on them, they can exploit their image more for profit. In the process, they've become much more biased and their own biases have come out as well. Most recently in the flaming dumpster fire that was Mexican Week, Paul Hollywood tried to intimidate a baker by telling them he had just gotten back from Mexico (which must have been a fruitful learning trip if he couldn't even learn how to pronounce pico de gallo correctly). Where do I even start with this? Here's an amateur baker from England (the show specifically casts middle and lower middle class bakers for the most part??) who likely can't afford trips to Mexico, who lives in a country with incredibly limited access to Mexican cuisine, who is expected not only to understand the cooking and baking traditions of a completely different culture but to do so well enough to play with it and do something creative with it. On top of which, one of the judges is now using his privilege of traveling halfway around the world as some kind of leverage, as if this were a bar that any amateur British baker could clear.

Prue, meanwhile, has openly asserted her biases against cultural flavors and textures, prioritizing her own personal preferences over them, as if they were in any way relevant to the skills and knowledge necessary to execute the tasks she sets to the bakers. She has also been consistently elitist, criticizing bakers for choices they made that were clearly informed by their experiences within income brackets that are too low and foreign for Prue to comprehend. She once had a go at a baker on a Christmas special because his Christmas dinner themed bake didn't have a turkey, even though it was clear from the stories he shared of his own Christmases that his family likely couldn't afford one. "It's not really Christmas dinner without a turkey," Prue said into the camera angrily while sitting on a chair made of live orphans and telling the ghost of Christmas Future to come back when he had another museum gift shop necklace for her to round out her collection.

The show is no longer about which baker has the best skills. It's become about which mortal can appease the gods of Mount Olympus, ie. the judges.

The Bakers:

Remember when the show was about them? Channel 4 doesn't! Because this is a reality competition show, the bakers are chosen both based on their skills, as well as cast-ability. They're cast as characters, distinct from each other, from different areas, age groups, ethnicities. All of them are amateurs. All of them are middle or lower middle class. They've ranged from college students to supermarket cashiers to prison wardens to scientists.

Something I noticed when the show moved to Channel 4 is that the baker who goes home in the first week is always wildly behind the rest in skills. I have no proof of this other than my eyeballs and deductive reasoning skills, but I think that Channel 4 deliberately casts a ringer each season who they think will be an easy send-off in the first week, just to get the audience's feet wet.

Anyway, like I said, this show used to be about the bakers - about them building skills and learning, and having walked into the tent with a self-taught foundation and understanding of the processes and chemical reactions involved in baking. When the show was on the BBC, the end of each round had some (often brief) moments of tension - will they finish in time? Will they get their bakes on the plate before time is up? Did they forget to add sugar to their batter and only remember at the last minute? In the end, they usually managed to finish and we'd all breathe a sigh of relief and think, yeah! You go, Bakers Who I'm Rooting For!

Now, on Channel 4, the end of round drama has been stretched to be so much longer that they've composed extra music for it. The bakers often seem out of their depth, whether because the instructions for the technical challenge are too vague (bake a lemon meringue pie??? As if anyone in the UK under the age of 60 has had one in the last decade???), or because they were expected to bake something that required a more than a basic foundation they weren't told of. Often it seems like they just aren't given enough time, a tactic used by reality competition shows to manipulate contestants into giving the cameras more dramatic content. On top of all this, the hosts get in their way, instead of helping them plate their bakes. As has been pointed out before, when everyone fails the challenge, the real failure lies with whoever set it.

In conclusion:

The show no longer exists to teach the bakers - and the audience - skills or knowledge. It now manipulates contestants for dramatic effect and prioritizes showing conflict over wholesome content. Channel 4 sees the bakers as social media content they can churn out season after season, and don't care about them because in a few months there'll be a new batch to exploit. Meanwhile, the judges are also out of their depth, co-opting recipes from other cultures and butchering them horrendously, while the camera gives them nothing but status as they hold bakers to the expectation that they learn how to make things very much the wrong way. If you saw any of the tweets about Mexican or Japanese week, or read my post on how Paul Hollywood isn't allowed to go near babka ever again, you'll understand.

So what would fix all this? Scrap the current judges and the hosts altogether. Bring back Mel and Sue, and replace the judges with expert bakers who have a love of their craft and want to share it with others. The draw of GBBO used to be its warmth and comfort - if Channel 4 isn't going to start its own version of Master Chef For Bakers, then it needs to stop trying to find a balance of how it can insert that vibe into GBBO. It can't. That's not a thing. Stop trying.

#GBBO #paul hollywood #prue leith #the great british bake off

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daisynik7 · 3 months

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I know I loved you from the start

“Tell me.”

You cross your arms over your chest in defiance. “No way.”

Nanami smirks at you, forearms resting on the table. “Pretty please?”

He’s asking you when you first knew you liked him, a question you’re embarrassed to admit the answer to. And it’s not fair when he looks at you like this. The twitch of mirth on his lips, the soft gaze in his eyes, his fingers inching towards yours, yearning to be closer, longing for a touch. He’s making it very difficult to resist.

Still, he underestimates your stubbornness. He’s not going to get it out of you that easily. Adamant, you shake your head, pressing your lips together tightly, not giving in.

Laughing, he finally relents, relaxing in his seat, holding his hands up in surrender. “Fine. I’ll let it go.”

The two of you are in the break room, finished with lunch, neither of you eager to return to your separate cubicles. It’s just you and him, though there’s still that risk of any one of your colleagues walking in on something they shouldn’t see. A longing glance, a tender touch, a chaste kiss. Your current romance is a secret to the office, and it shall remain that way for the time-being. Involving others makes it complicated, and one of the things you enjoy most about being with Nanami is how easy it is.

The reason you’re reluctant to answer his question is because from the beginning, you liked him. Smitten is the better word for it. He was the new hire that nearly everyone fawned over the minute he set foot through the door, and you were no exception to his quiet charm. His obvious physical attraction and even more evident kindness made people gravitate towards him. But it was something else that caught your attention on his first day of work: a box of warm croissants from your favorite bakery that he carried with him to share. You marveled at the wonderful goodies with a bright smile on your face, rambling on and on to him. How the owner of that bakery studied patisserie in the heart of France before moving to Japan. Why the pastry is so delicate, due to the number of laminations. The butter they use being imported from Europe and how it really makes a difference. Nanami listened to every word of it intently, nodding along with a polite smile on his face.

It's so silly, so insignificant, so trivial, it’s not even worth mentioning. And so you don’t.

You’ve exhausted as much of your break time as possible, finally ready to return to work after you clean up. You’re at the sink, rinsing both yours and his container under the faucet. He stands behind you, waiting. Watching.

The sudden slide of his hands on your hips startles you, but you don’t look back. Instead, you hold your breath in anticipation, shuddering slightly as he gently presses his chest to your back, his mouth grazing the shell of your ear. “For the record, I knew from the very start,” he whispers, breath warm and ticklish on your skin.

Before you can turn around to face him, Nanami’s already walking away, leaving you alone with wet hands and a racing heart.

Author's Note: Part of the past lives vignettes series! Divider credit to @/cafekitsune. Title inspired by the song "From the Start" by Laufey. Thank you for reading!

#nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento fluff #kento nanami fluff #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #jjk fluff #nanami drabbles

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muzansfangs · 7 months

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Byakuya, Ichigo, and grimmjow finding f! Reader naked?

They accidentally see you naked.

Starring: Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez x f!reader; Ichigo Kurosaki x f!reader; Byakuya Kuchiki x f!reader;

Format: short imagines;

Warnings: nsfw, Ichigo is aged up and around his twenties, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, nipple play, implied sexual tension on previous encounters, f!reader, unprotected sex, horny thoughts, language, fluff, rough sex, biting, suggestive themes, mention to kidnapping in Grimmjow’s part, shower sex;

Plot: what happens when you are naked and they accidentally walk on you, catching a full glimpse of your bare body in all its glory? Hormones cannot always be contained.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.

Two weeks. You had been stuck in Las Noches for two weeks now. Not only you missed your family, your friends and your house, but you were frustrated over the fact that, apparently, you had been kidnapped only because you were Ichigo’s adoptive and older sister and Grimmjow wanted to irk his rival. Unfortunately for him, you had an attitude.

The day Grimmjow and Ulquiorra dragged you to Hueco Mundo, you were minding your business. It was such a serene night in Karakura Town and you had suggested to buy a cake in the nearby patisserie for enjoying a dessert with your friends. You had not even bothered wearing something nice. You were comfortable in your ripped jeans and sneakers. However, you knew that the t-shirt you were wearing could have drawn way too many glances. Therefore, you opted for wearing a jacket over it.

Obviously, you did not make it to the cake-shop. The sting on the side of your neck you suddenly felt as you crossed the road was a clear sign that someone had other plans for you. Your vision was blurry, but you could clearly discern the cheeky grin of the Espada that loathed your brother’s guts, as he stared down at you. The hot Espada, right. But that was a detail you were going to ignore for the time being.

You fainted several seconds after the impact, only to wake up in front of Aizen’s throne and find out to be the center of the attention of Hollows around you. The show was about to begin, though. As you started yelling at everyone how much you wished they all could explode like balloons in front of your eyes, Aizen simply ordered to give you a uniform and elegantly left the room. That decision was the cherry on top. Ulquiorra did not waste any precious time and handed you a white dress that matched the style of this ‘group of terrorists’, as you kept on calling them, but you scoffed and refused to wear it.

Grimmjow was not having it and thought and trying to unzip your jacket was a good idea. As you swatted his hands away, you had to eventually give up when he pinned your wrists above your head, as your back was pressed against the wall. The sneaky grin on his face, though, dropped as soon as the blue words printed on your white t-shirt came to his vision.

‘Blowjobs are jobs too’.

Your cheeks flushed up and Grimmjow let go of you in shock. But from that day he started to see you under a different light. You had always been pretty and he hated to admit how many times he had found himself fantasizing about how his hands could perfectly squeeze your ass as you bounced up and down on his shaft. He could not control himself and his lust for you grew with every argument you had.

The fact that you were a Kurosaki, even if you did not share Ichigo’s blood, made the whole deed even better. What a way to get back at his rival, if he could dig his claws into your flesh.

On the other hand, you were not indifferent to Grimmjow’s sharp features and abs. You hated to admit that he literally was your type and that you had wet dreams about him more than once. Getting to see him everyday in Las Noches was now driving you mad. You were glad Aizen had at least given you a chamber with a private bathroom. You had to admit that you allowed your mind to wonder and your hand to wander under the shower. His sharp canines, they did numbers on your mind and wished you could feel the way they grazed over your jugular. Just once, no one had to know about that.

Now, you easily got bored in the huge castle you were stuck in. You therefore asked Aizen if you could paint some parts of the walls in the hall that had cracked throughout the time. The stoic man had hesitantly agreed and now you were trying to keep yourself busy by painting over the ruined portions of walls in front of you. You were trying to balance yourself on the wooden ladder set against the wall, with a bucket of white paint in your hand and the brush in the other.

You knew you should have asked Ulquiorra to watch over you, but you were confident about your skills. Additionally, you had probably underestimated the presence of Grimmjow a few feet away from you.

“Tsk, what the hell are you doing up there? Do you want to break your neck?” his hoarse voice pierced your ears, making you roll your eyes in annoyance. There he was, ready to taunt you.

You sighed and tried to keep your balance as you gave him a flat reply, your tone almost apathetic at this point “Why do you care? Mind your business”.

Grimmjow cocked his head to the side, his trademark smirk plastered over his face as her let his eyes scrutinize the way the tight skirt of your dress emphasized the curve of ass. A delicious meal for him.

“Nah, if you die, I’d lose my plaything. Come on, let me help you” he teased you, hoping to get a reaction from you.

Oh, boy, he definitely did.

Your upper lip twitched, your grip on the brush tightening significantly as you tried not to slip from the creaking rung of that stupid ladder “Excuse me?!” you practically hissed, dipping your head down to glare at him.

Grimmjow grinned and arched his eyebrow at you “You heard me. Get your ass down here, plaything”.

You knew you should have asked Ulquiorra to help you and now, as you scoffed in indignation, ready to fire back an insult at him, you realized that you were screwed up. You never got to yell at Grimmjow, no. A strained scream left your mouth, as the sound of the thin wooden plank under your feet snapping pierced your ears. You did not see that coming for sure and so you fell. Loosening your grip on the brush and the bucket, you squeezed your eyes shut for inevitable impact with the floor. An impact that neve came as you felt two strong arms embrace you and yank you towards a toned chest.

You hesitantly opened your eyes, mouth slightly agape as you tried to steady your breath, when the bucket ended up pouring its content all over you two. You would have loved to to thank Grimmjow, but the first you did as you felt the paint stick on your hair, naked portions of skin and dress was cussing.

“Fuck!” you groaned, as Grimmjow snorted too and let you back down on the floor. Obviously, he had been a victim of the falling bucket as well. Some paint covered his messy hair and part of his chest and uniform.

Seeing him like this, in addition to the fact that he had saved your life, made you crack up a smile and shake your head softly. You two were a mess.

“Don’t you fucking dare to say anything! Let’s get this shitty paint off of us before it dries!” he grumbled, wrapping his hand around your wrist and marching towards your room. You quirked your eyebrows up, wondering why he was leading you back to your room. You did not have spare clothes for him, just a bathroom and, if he thought you were going to strip in front of him, he was clearly wrong.

As he opened the door of your room and let you in, he took off his jacket and threw it on the floor, his hands already reaching down to unbuckle his belt, as you finally squealed out in shock and turned your back at him.

“Grimmjow, what the hell are you doing! Don’t you dare undress in front of me!” you quipped, clasping your hand over your mouth. That was so embarrassing and you could feel cold sweat collecting in the back of your neck.

“What’s up now? Never seen a cock?” he sassed, dropping his pants down and walking to the bathroom naked. Your blood ran cold and you did your best not to turn around. He had never acted like that. This time you found yourself speechless and you could not even send him to hell.

As you heard him turn the shower on, you sighed and grabbed a towel from a drawer. You hastily undress yourself and wrapped the pink item around your naked body. You waited for him to get out ot the shower, confident that he had not seen a single glimpse of your body. But you were wrong.

The panther boy accidentally saw your naked ass through the mirror in your bathroom. The open door had granted it the full view of the bedroom and now he was practically growling in the cubicle with a painful boner. No, it was enough. This time you were going to take care of the problem you had caused.

Grimmjow stormed out of the bathroom, not caring about covering himself and making you gawk at the scenery before your eyes. He tugged your towel away and kissed you passionately, not giving you time to process what is was happening. You barely did, in fact. Your brain slowly started to process what your own body was doing, when you found yourself into the shower with Grimmjow’s fingere buried into your core.

You wanted him. You wanted him so badly and as he bit onto the crook of your neck, thrusting his fingers into you, you moaned softly and closed your eyes in bliss.

“What happens in Las Noches stays in Las Noches” he purred in your ear, only to receive your sassy reply.

“It was Las Vegas, you ignorant cat” you breathed out, before he involved you into a fervent kiss that made your inner walls clench around his fingers.

‘Sorry Ichigo. I could not resist’ was your last thought before you reached your climax.

Ichigo Kurosaki.

Being Urahara’s adoptive daughter was a privilege. Life was great, really, but since your father had started training Ichigo Kurosaki and his friends things were messy. You had no time to rest and practically zero privacy. Your house and shop had been opened to Soul Reapers and humans, coming over to ask for help at any hour of the day. Including night, obviously.

Despite that, you had bonded with the entire group of ‘heroes wannabe’, as you teasingly addressed them.

Yet, there was one out of them that had caught your eye and it was not just for his appearence. Ichigo Kurosaki, the invincible guy that had rescued Rukia Kuchiki and was now trying to take down Aizen, was living rent free in your mind. More than once, while you watched your father teach him new strategies and help him improve his skills, you had found yourself staring intently at the way his muscular arms flexed every time he unsheathed his sword.

You had carved in your mind the way his t-shirt emphasized the outline of his abs and you had to avert your eyes from him, when droplets of sweat made his body glisten. Your mind was wild, you imagined too many things for your own good.

You often laid in your bed, eyes closed, back arching for waves of pleasure, at the thought of his sweaty face hovering over yours as he thrusted into you. You wanted him, you wanted him more than anything else on this Earth. You wished to see the sweat beading his forehead up close, you wanted that sweat to scream your name. Things were heated, whenever your father ordered you to help him train.

A hand to hand fight was probably going to be the cause of your death, one day or another. Sometimes, as you fought, you ended up rolling onto the ground. His hot body against yours and those flames blazing in his eyes got you weak on your knees.

Once, you had ended up topping him. Your hand way laying flat onto his chest, as you straddled him. You were both sweaty, panting, your clothed intimacies pressed down against one another. In that very moment, as you tried to stand up and shifted your position, he groaned softly. You did not fail to notice the way his cheeks flushed, or feel how something was twitching underneath the fabric of his trousers.

That had happened a week ago and, since then, you were avoiding meeting him around your father’s shop. You were too embarrassed at the thought that you had practically felt his boner like that.

Now, that infamous morning, you were relaxing a bit into the bathtub. Urahara and the others had left for taking care of some business out of town and you had to watch over the shop while they were gone. However, you were too tired and stressed out to deny yourself some self-indulgent pleasure.

Some bubbles were floating in the air as you let the warm water and soap envelope your naked frame and you did not hear at all the door of the bathroom creak open. When you heard your phone buzz, you raised up in the tub, your naked back and ass in full display as you reached for your device.

But Ichigo’s eyes, oh dear, they went wide as he ended up toppling over a vase, as he stumbled into the bathroom. You were a vision, the emblem of perfection, and he clasped his hand over his mouth in shock, as the sound of the object shattering on the floor made you both flinch.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” he fretted, panicking as he tried to cover his eyes.

You, on the other hand, had dropped your phone on the floor too and had hastily slided back into the tub to hide your naked form from him. It was such a pleasurable nightmare!

“Ichigo! What the hell are you doing here?!” you blurted out, hoping a supermassive black hole could suck you in right on the spot.

“I was searching for Urahara!” he defended himself, turning his back at you and shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“In the bathroom?!”.

“Oh shut up! I needed to use the bathroom too!” he snapped back, not knowing what to say anymore.

There was no way out from the carousel of shame and awkwardness, therefore you took the matter in your hands and quickly grasped a towel, hopping out of the shower and wrapping it around your body. You needed to get out of there as soon as possible.

As your shoulder brushed against his, though, Ichigo squeezed his eyes shut for a second before pinning you against the wall and kissing you out of the blue. You inhaled sharply, not expecting it, but, as soon as you collected yourself from the shock, you kissed him back and tangled your fingers through his spiky orange hair.

It was a kiss full of hunger, just like his hand, slipping underneath your towel and searching for your folds. You moaned softly against his lips, raving into the longed sensation you were finally experiencing.

“Let’s hope your father doesn’t come home earlier now” he rasped, plunging his fingers into your core as you lolled your head back against the wall in pleasure.

“If he does, I’ll tell Aizen how to fucking use that stupid device at his full potential” you joked, smiling against his lips.

Thinking about it now, you were so glad your father had messed up your lives with Ichigo’s group of friends.

Byakuya Kuchiki.

Drenched in sweat, you were running up to the Kuchiki Estate. Training under the scorching sun for hours had truly drained you. Yet, you were determined to get stronger and help to fight Aizen and his crew of Arrancar. When Rukia had suggested to Orihime to visit the Soul Society and spend some days together to hone her abilities, you had decided to join them.

It was your chance to put yourself to the test and, actually, even an excuse to see the new friends you had made in the Seireitei. However, you had to be honest to yourself and admit that there was one special person you wanted to see again. You had hated his guts, when you first met. It was a miracle that he had not slashed your chest open too when you tried to prevent Rukia’s return to the Soul Society. Yet, things had changed.

Byakuya Kuchiki was not only a cold-hearted, stoic and sophisticated man. He was much more than that and you had started to see it too.

He was not much of a talker, but he was handsome as hell and he had even offered you his help in trying to become a better Sobstitute Shinigami. You naturally found it odd, but you were in no position to refuse his help. However, the recent events had forced you to part ways again and you had missed him too much not to come back to the Soul Society and see him again.

Throughout your permanence, Rukia was allowing you to sleep over at the Kuchiki Estate but, much to your dismay, you never crossed paths with him. Not even once. It was horribly ironic, but you were partially glad he could not hear your soft moans in the dead of the night, when you touched yourself thinking about him and how his hands rested on your hips when he adjusted your position during a training session.

You missed his touch, his cologne, the way his chest grazed over your head when you were that close. Whenever he scolded you for being too distracted, you had to bite on your tongue not to blurt out that it was his fault. Your close proximity truly made your grip on your katana falter. He was messing with your head in a way you could not fully comprehend and you wondered if he was conscious of the way he affected you.

Now, as you stormed into the room Rukia let you sleep in, you quickly started taking off your uniform. You craved a shower and some fresh clothes more than anything right now. You dropped your pants to the floor and you quickly took off your shirt as well, as you already imagined the way the hot water would have made your aching muscles relax.

But as you finally reached behind your back to unclasp your bra, someone had returned to his Estate. His feather-like steps could not be heard at all and you simply discarded your bra too, sighing in relief as your breasts were free from any restriction. You were still humming in satisfaction with your eyes closed, when the door of your room slided up and a gasp of shock left Byakuya’s lips.

He was for some reason unable to move, his eyes locked on the curve of your breasts, staring at your nipples as if he was admiring some greek statute of a goddess. He cursed himself for his lack of decency and he felt mortified as you opened back your eyes and you met his gaze.

“Byakuya!” you squeaked out, cheeks heating up in shame as you grasped your shirt anf tried to cover your upper body from his eyes. Honestly, you had never felt that ashamed in your whole life.

The Captain of the Sixth Division cleared his throat and averted his eyes from you, his body clearly reacting to the vision he had just been blessed with. He could not pretend he had not seen you like that and, obviously, you would have never forgotten such an indecent accident. There were plenty of things he could say, but just one thing he wanted to do.

He slowly darted his eyes back on your frame, his lips slightly parted as he walked up to you. With every step he took towards you, your heart skipped a beat and your legs quivered. You could not read his mind, but his body language was pretty clear at this point.

His hand gently grasped your wrist, inviting you to loosen your grip on the shirt impeding him to admire your chest and, under the spell of his touch, you obliged his request. As the item fell at your feet, Byakuya grasped your chin and made sure you kept the eye-contact with him as he gently captured your lips with his ones.

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as, standing on your toes to reach his lips better, you returned the kiss with equal hunger and gentleness. His hands, however, were already exploring your body.

The Captain definitely knew what he was doing as he took your nipple between his index and thumb, pinching it softly and massaging it with a mastery of a man that had been married and knew how to please a woman.

As the first moans were elicited from you, Byakuya stroked your cheek with his free hand and let you lay down on the futon underneath him “Please, allow me to have you. I promise I’ll make sure you are comfortable with me” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours.

And that, my dear, was an oath he stack up to through the rest of the evening.

TAGS: @byakuyawifey

#grimmjow smut #grimmjow x reader #grimmjow headcanons #grimmjow x you #grimmjow x y/n #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #byakuya x you #byakuya x reader #byakuya smut #byakuya kuchiki x reader #kuchiki byakuya x reader #ichigo x reader #ichigo x you #ichigo kurosaki x reader #ichigo x y/n #kurosaki ichigo x reader #bleach x reader

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hwaitham · 5 months

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𝓱𝓾𝓶𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓭𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓼 𓈒 ˖ ࣪ 𝜗𝜚

al haitham x f!reader . nsfw — mdni . established relationship ﾉ daddy kink ﾉ heavy ddlg dynamics ﾉ dumbification + mindbreak ﾉ finger sucking ﾉ baby + sweetheart as petnames ﾉ typical condescending praise from haithie . . hehe c;

al haitham believes that the sweetest and best days are not those on which anything particularly exciting or whirlwindishly wonderful occurs, but those that bring with them humble delights that follow gently after each other— like the flipping of parchment as one nears the end of a book, the fresh aroma of biscuits and pastries that seem to continuously linger about in the air of a patisserie.

and such belief is what has led him to favour moments like these.

you, beneath him, fucked-out doll, orgasm after orgasm after orgasm coaxed from your cunt to slather the base of his heavy cock in glistening cream, no thoughts swirling around in that darling mind of yours except reams upon reams of ribbon that spell out his designation.

daddydaddydaddydaddydaddy.

and it’s the best thing— the very best thing in the world. his dumbed-down little girl, knees pressed to your chest and ankles crossed, body jostling with each forceful thrust, with each letter of his name that’s swiped across your clit.

“d-daddy—“ you choke on a tiny whimper, hiccup over your breath. keen sweetly when he pulls out and leaves you feeling empty and in loss of the milk that drivels out of you. “love you... l-love you s’much, nngfh…”

“love your daddy s'much?” tapping his weeping tip over your tummy, he presses his crotch into your greedy cunt and groans at the hot slick that coats his balls, the little grind of your hips as you search for more. “is it daddy you love… or his cock, hmm?”

you give him a needy whine and a weak kiss to his cheek, the adorable pout strung over your lips being the only answer you’re able to respond with after having your brain stuffed to the brim with cotton and cum.

it tells him everything he needs to know. “s’okay, baby, i know, i know…”

because even without words, al haitham understands just how smitten you are with him, how fiendishly you adore him, perhaps more than life itself. it’s easy to see in the look you give him from under his arms, eyes glazed over with pearl and such delicate reverence. it’s in the insatiable desire you have for him, his cock and his thumb and his milk and his kisses and his heart. so dumb and so in love— you’re lucky that your daddy feels just the same about you.

he gifts you his cock once more, pushing past your creamy hole and stopping with shallow thrusts when he feels your walls seizing around him, stomach clenching and feet kicking softly against his abdomen. “daddy, nooo…” you sob, sniffle at the pleasure of his shaft throbbing within you, pushing sticky cum even further into your womb.

hunching over closer to you, he rubs his lips over your forehead and kisses away the few stray bubbles of sweat, lends you his thumb to pacify your pathetic little whimpers— yet the lazy swirls of your tongue around the digit only seem to serve as a breach for you to make even more lewd noises. al haitham shudders at a particularly sweet, air-headed little giggle you release. “no, what, sweetheart?”

“‘s not enough… wan’ more.” more cock, more cum, more everything.

and he’ll give you more of everything, as much as he has in him that he can give. drain his balls and flood you with his seed, press down on your soft tummy and watch it drip in globs out of you, all so he can fill you up again, and again, and again.

with a grunt and sharp glint of a smirk, he pries your legs apart to hook them over his forearms, pulling out… almost, almost… and then slowly, slowly sinking back and splitting you in half.

”guess daddy needs to go even deeper.” squelch, squelch, squelch— he rocks into you back and forth, back and forth, all the way until you feel his cockhead gyrating over the deepest spongy spot of pleasure in you. it’s enough to push you to your high, silky walls clamping down tighter than ever before, not allowing al haitham a single moment of reprieve. “fuuuuuuck, h-hahh— you jus’ don’t wanna let go, do you? greedy little cunt.”

toes furled and nails carving red wings into his back, you have trouble hearing him over your squeals and mewls. they’re such sweet, honest, candy-hearted sounds, the break to your voice and the mindless little babbles— cumming, cumming, ’m cumm’nghhh, daddy— i love you, loveyouloveyouloveyou!— it doesn’t take much more than that for him to give you what you want.

once, twice more he thrusts and releases into your womb with an unsteady moan, heart hammering against his chest so hard and fast you can feel it against your own as he lays atop you, hand cradling the back of your head and lips pressed hard to your temple. he whispers to you, some trivial words that float like haze past your ear: perfect fit… so tight ‘nd warm… you wanna stay with daddy like this forever, baby?

barely, you nod, your face pressed to the handsome junction of his neck and his cock pressed yet to your cervix, ribbons of cum flushing you with tender warmth. “mhmmm, daddy… forever ‘nd ever ‘nd ever…”

“god, you're such a sweetheart...” he whispers and grinds his seed into you deeper, his hips chafing along the insides of your sticky thighs. and with this, you can only sigh a dreamy sigh, cling to him like his perfect little princess, let al haitham nestle further into the only home he's ever known.

what a humble delight, indeed.

dis drabble is da product of a vry overworked masters student who has j gotten her period n' needs nothing but to be Babied n Coddled >< i apologize for da self-indulgence but i hope even j one of you could find some comfort here ♡

#𝓭𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓯𝓸𝓵𝓭𝓮𝓻 ⑅˚˖ ݁ ˓ ෆ #al haitham smut #alhaitham smut #alhaitham x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #< haithie 3 #tw daddy kink #tw mindbreak #૮꒰ྀི⊃⸝ ⸝ ⸝⊂꒱ྀིა . AAAAAAAAAHH ! ! ! !

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fanaticsnail · 3 months

Text

Your Flirty Chef

(Image Source)

Masterlist Here.

Word Count: 4,267

Synopsis: Sanji has been working hard lately, your flirty chef no longer as present as you’d like him to be. You both have some unspoken flirtation between you, hopefully something to shatter by molding him beneath the touch of your hands.

Themes: Sanji x reader, mutual pining, idiots in love, flirtation, cooking, kissing, touching, massage, moaning, Sanji is a whimpering mess, suggestive themes, Baratie.

Notes: This was a gift created for the lovely @vespidphoenix who adores my 'Bar Shift' series. We're back home at Baratie! I hope you enjoy!

Tag List: @sordidmusings @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry

The light danced from the open bay windows across the circular polished floorboards, the wax allowing for a wonderful grip beneath your black, closed toe work-shoes. The handles of the porcelain tray began to heat beneath your palms and fingertips, the foamed milk and cream jiggling with each careful footstep you placed on the ground.

You noticed first the depiction of the business of the kitchen staff through the circular windows attached to the doors, the smoke and flames rising to char the dish within the pans. You caught the eyeroll of your favorite blonde coworker as he shook his head, refusing to take direction from your boss and head chef of Baratie.

“Alright boys, coffee time. Take a break!” you called after making your way through the swinging double doors to the kitchen. Immediately, pre-service was paused as a pile of hardened ex-pirates enthusiastically made their way to the pass.

Echoes of praise rang from the kitchen upon your utterances, all occurring simultaneously as grabbing hands eagerly pried the dishes within your tray as you placed it down.

“Truly a lifesaver, Doll,” Carne praised, claiming his piccolo-latte from the tray and raising it to his lips in one quick swig.

“Oh, my sweetheart. Thank you, Love,” Patty shot you a winning smile, raising his extra strong flat-white from the tray and scuttling back over to his patisserie station.

“Something there for me, Honey?” Zeff asked, the click and scrape of his pegleg and boot heel knocking against the floor prompted you to gather his long-black coffee and hand it off to him personally with a small bow.

“Of course, Chef,” you smiled at him, handing it over and turning back to the tray to witness the depletion of the amassment of coffees you’d prepared; only two now remaining. Sanji was in the middle of temperature controlling whisked egg whites and scorching sugar, unable to halt his whipping to claim his regular hit of caffeine from you.

“Just leave it on the table, Dove. I’ll be over in a second, okay?” Sanji’s brows were furrowed in concentration, the stainless steel bowl held firmly in his left hand and cradled against his chest. Soft peaks of white, fluffy meringue began to form within the bowl, his right hand continuing to beat in absolute concentration in a rotational way.

“You want to take it outside when you're done, Ji? Have smoko?” you asked him, removing the two mugs and placing it on the tray. Sanji scoffed back a small chuckle, flicking his hair away from his eyes as he continued whisking.

“Please, and thank you. I’ll be out in about a minute thirty? Just gotta start on the macaroons, then I’m on my quarter,” He broke his concentration on the bowl below him, flicking his cool-gray eyes over to you and watching as you began wiping down the tray, and claiming the emptied cups within to return to the bar.

As you left the kitchen, Sanji continued to watch your departure through his peripherals while meeting optimum temperature for the egg whites. He paddled the mixture with a silicone spatula into a plastic piping bag and rotated the end to hold the pressure in place, leaving it neatly to the side of his workstation to complete forming the macaroons after his break.

“On your quarter, Little Eggplant?” Zeff asked, brow raising as he took a sip from his strong coffee. Eyeing his apprentice suspiciously, he looked him over as Sanji removed his apron and neckerchief to relax on his break.

“Oui, chef,” he smirked, hanging his apron on his designated hook and halting once more at the door, “that alright with you, old man?”

“Fine by me, boy. Just-,” Zeff had an almost sly twinkle in his eye, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, “-Just be kind to our bartender, alright?”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m always kind,” Sanji retorted, taken aback with his lip curling into a small snarl. A small echo of teetered laughter and snickers reverberated within the walls of the kitchen amongst the clanging of pots and pans.

“You know what I mean, lad,” Zeff grunted, placing his empty coffee cup on the sink beside Carne who had begun washing the crockery, “Off you pop. When you get back, we’re doing Before Service. Start gettin’ it ready, lads! Family Meal in a quarter.”

“Oui Chef!” Echoed in the kitchen, each chef springing to their station to begin getting the elements of their dishes together to present to each other before the rush of the dining service.

Sanji huffed a small sigh, exiting the kitchen and walking over to the fishmouth of the bar where you were waiting for him. Sanji had a small circle of thoughts swirling within his mind, echoing and reverberating the words Zeff had commanded of him. ‘Be kind’? What does ‘be kind’ even mean? Was he not kind? Had he not been kind to you in your interactions prior?

There was never a doubt in Sanji’s mind that he adored you. His affections were showcased in how he regularly sought you out on advice when conflicting with your boss and his mentor, Zeff. You were the one he came to when he had a rush of inspiration in the kitchen, spoon feeding you samples of his amazing cuisine for your constructive criticism or your unwithheld praise.

Just a simple hum and a nod of your head in response to his food had his heart swelling, but when you closed your eyes and a moan was siphoned from your breath had his pupils darkening, and thoughts of lustful interactions with you plagued him. He would lie awake at night thinking about how your lips wrapped around the spoon he presented you, your eyelashes fluttering shut and a small gasp fled from your lips as you reopened them in glee.

And that is when it hit him. As he watched the sun dance on your skin, your fingertips casually dancing along the ropes beneath the hard surface of the bar; he realized what Zeff meant by his suggestion.

Sanji was in love with you.

He was so desperately in love with you, he would do anything to see you smile, to hear your laugh, or to collect one of those hummed moans you’d save only for him when sampling his dishes. He was mad for you, so much so that he charged right through the feeling itself and bypassed all of the warning signs screaming at him to not fall in love with his coworker.

He halted his steps, the spell shattering within him as he came to terms with the feeling swelling within his chest. Sanji was a perpetual flirt, and you would reciprocate his advances in a way that had you both giggling and teetering like idiots. Your natural rapport with one another, the way you bounced off each other on the pass when you worked floor shift, or when you’d fetch him coffees and trial new designs within the foam just for him. The way he would present a meal he had created for Family Meal for everyone, but alter yours in a way that showed how much he truly adored you with its careful assembly.

Sanji was in love with you.

Looking over your shoulder, your body remaining presented to the water and the docks, you noticed Sanji staggering in the shadows of the fishmouth bar with his footsteps halting. You furrowed your brows, turning completely around and arching your back against the railing of the external bar surrounding the perimeter of the side-bar.

“That you, Ji? Here for your quarter and a smoke?” you asked him, a warm smile pulling at your mouth to welcome him into the area. You thought you heard Sanji cough, a choked sound within the shadows indicating his presence. Your furrow began to descend into a frown while cocking your head to the side, “Coffee’s getting cold, Sweetheart. Come over here and keep me company.”

You were unsure how more obvious you could be regarding your affections for the blonde suis-chef of Baratie. You were a flirt by nature, a job you were hired and paid to complete to build a successful interaction with your clientele. But Sanji. Sanji you got to flirt with for free.

Flirting with Sanji was a competitive sport, and one you championed as the captain of the team and the cheer squad.

It started with a game of chicken; food related innuendos and outrageously crass flirtations offered to fluster one another for entertainment, while completing a particularly grueling shift. It had you both laughing and in high spirits regardless of how little the guests respected you or physically fought with one another during the shift. You adored spending time together, building rapport and learning from one another through your flirtatious nature.

Your favorite pastime was watching Sanji work. The way he rolled his sleeves up slowly to pin by his elbows, the way his forearms stretched and flexed as he julienned vegetables, the concentrated expression of his eyes as he tweezed a piece of gold leaf atop a caramel fudge, with a careful scoop of vanilla ice cream melting on the rim.

And then it hit you. The arrow of the winged cupid struck your heart with the pierce of iron as he offered you the first spoonful of a dish he had prepared, and meticulously cared for, specifically for you. Apprehensively wrapping your lips around the spoon and flicking your tongue over the curved edge, you couldn’t help but to moan at both the flavor presented to you, and the expression of complete devotion and the eagerness to please you written all over his face.

You were in love with Sanji.

You couldn’t help the way you felt for him, always aiming to task him with something simple: “Ji, be a sweetheart and hand me that steel jug, please?” to something a little more complex: “Sanji, would you cook that dish for me for Family Meal? The one with the brie and the rillette de canard? I adore that one.” He was a puppy, following your direction and orders with glee, and you were absolutely smitten with him.

Sanji danced his body into the light of the bar, sheepishly not meeting your gaze as he fished out his tobacco pouch from within his trouser pocket. He opened the bag, noticing a small quake in his fingers at the knowledge that now plagued him. What was he meant to do now? Act like he didn’t worship the ground you walked on?

“Sweetheart, why don’t you give that to me and you take a sip of your coffee? I’ll roll you one,” you asked him, reaching your hand over and claiming his right wrist beneath your hand, “You must be tired after all that hand-whisking. You just sit back and enjoy your quarter. I’m on my halfa, and you deserve more time off your feet before we get absolutely railed by the service shift.”

At the term ‘absolutely railed’, Sanji’s mind was racing beyond its capacity. He couldn’t find an appropriate word in his mind to relay onto you in return, simply nodding in confirmation as he handed over his tobacco pouch before standing beside you and watching the ocean dance against the hull of the floating restaurant.

As the sun hit his golden hair, dancing along the glow of his tired and overworked features, you couldn’t help but look at him in awe. The way his eyes closed with his smile as he took the first look at the design you had created for him with the foam, before pressing it to his lips and sipping at it.

You were in love with Sanji.

Setting to work on rolling the cigarette with the wafer thin paper and setting the filter within the side, you placed some of the brown, dried leaves into the fold and rolled it. From the corner of your eye, you watched Sanji’s eyes float down to your lips as you darted your tongue out to dampen the paper. You could’ve sworn you heard a catch in his breath, and a small strangled groan halted within his throat; but surely you were mistaken.

You presented him with the cigarette, placing the filter end within his lips for him and wordlessly asking if you could ignite the tip with your lighter. Sanji’s eyes watched you carefully, nodding his head to give you confirmation to flick your flint and ignite the flame for him. Your eyes softened, cradling the flame as you elevated it to his lips and doused the end with its light to burn through the paper tip at the end.

“You work too hard, Ji,” you commented, a flick of the corner of your lip in a small smirk captivated his gaze further, “It’s made you silent. C’mon now,” you placed the lighter back within your pant pocket, “Where’s that flirty chef I love so much?” Sanji smiled, inhaling the nicotine-riddled smoke as he extended his lungs to capacity.

“I dunno, Dove,” He began on his exhale, eyes closed and head lulling as he savored the feeling, “Your flirty chef might need some convincing to come out and play. I have been pushing myself a bit more today, and I’m beginning to feel it in my bones.” You half-smiled at him, watching as he removed the cigarette and threw back the remainder of his coffee in his mouth and swigging it with one fell gulp.

“Oh, you poor dear,” you pouted, raising your hand up and pressing it gently on his shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze, “What can I do to bring him back?” Sanji groaned at the feeling of contact on his aching muscles, unsure of what came over him to elicit such a wanton sound. Your eyes widened, watching as his face began to contort as he hung his head low, relishing in the contact.

“Let me take some of the weight off?” you suggested, bringing up your other hand to cup his shoulders, maneuvering your body behind him and firmly rotating your thumbs against the meat of his shoulders, “Maybe then my flirty chef will come out to play.” More of those beautiful groans escaped his lips as he succumbed to the ministrations of your fingers, molding and bending his hardened flesh within your hands.

Sanji’s sweet cries of bliss were addictive, more addictive to you than any meal he had presented to you in the months you had worked closely together. The way he cried out in bliss as you found a particularly tender point in the center of his shoulder blade had you gasp out breathily in response. He was a slave to your touch, leaning in as a stray cat would to an affectionate caress.

His cigarette fell from his lips to litter the ground by his shoes, the light extinguishing upon impact and rolling beneath the deck chairs surrounding you. He curved and arched his back into your touch, moaning and crying out as quietly as he could muster, with his mouth agape and a small amount of saliva collecting at the corners of his rapidly drying lips. Sanji’s body was responding a little too well to the simple touch of your hands on his shoulders and back.

“Y-You’re so good-... mmff-... at this. W-Where did you-... oh-h merde-... where did you learn it?” He asked, lulling his head back and inadvertently rested the back of his head against your shoulder while holding onto the railing firmly in his grasp. You giggled, moving your hands beneath his shoulders and coaxing him from the railing to one of the lounging chairs, secluded in the shade of the sails of the wide umbrellas. Although this area was a public space, the lounges were private enough to shield Sanji as he rapidly fell apart in your arms from prying eyes.

“I just know how hard the muscles work to produce the food you do, Ji,” you shrugged, sitting down on the lounge chair and ushering him to sit between your legs with his back to you. Initially, Sanji desired to sit up, his back convexing in a perfect arch to experience more of your touch. But his body had other plans beneath your skilled hands.

He immediately found a more relaxed version of his former position: his head lulling back into your right shoulder as his eyes fluttered shut, your hands now finding rest against his biceps and rotating them beneath your firm grip to work out the kinks.

Sanji had no idea what had come over him. The sounds falling from his lips were desperate, his body pleading and crying for more of your touch as he fell apart from the simple strokes of your hands now trailing up to his chest. You couldn’t get enough, your hands responding faster than your mind could tell it not to in order to find places on his body to have the sweeter sounds of your name rolling off his tongue between gasps and groans.

“Y-You’re-... fuck Dove-... Th-This is really good,” his breathy gasp complimented you, ending with the small pull of a whine within his throat. You tried your hardest to stop the rising heat from flooding to your cheeks at his voice, opting to giggle to relieve some of the tension surfacing.

“You’ve got maybe three minutes before you have to go back, Sanji,” you said, patting him politely on the chest to indicate you were done assaulting him with your affectionate caress. At the small pat, he groaned, chasing the weight of your palm atop his chest by arching his back and pleading with you to continue.

“Just a bit more?” he whined, opening his eyes and lulling his head further into your shoulder to gaze up at you with wide eyes, “Your flirty chef will come back if you do it just a little bit longer, I’m certain.” He smiled with his lips in a tight line, eyes twinkling in hope up at you. You scrunched your nose up at him, your own eyes reflecting his playful twinkle back at him.

“Maybe after the rush?” You suggested with a shrug of your shoulders and another curt tap of his chest. He groaned, slouching down and melting into your torso with the drag of his head. You laughed at him as he continued slinking lower and finally settled his head against your thigh, feet brushing against the ground over the side of the lengthy deck chair you were sharing.

“But that’s so far away,” he groaned, a raspy growl rumbling against his tone. He clapped his hand over his eyes, squeezing his palm and fingertips in the pinch of his eyes before having it fall away from his face and down to his side with a small gasp.

“Makes the waiting all the sweeter,” you cooed down at him. At this, he immediately rose to a sitting position, turning within your lap and gazing at you. His irises were blown, the small tint of pink dusting his cheeks and his lips were slightly parted. There were a thousand unspoken words dancing behind his eyes. The mystery surrounding such a look had you hooked and leaning in to see if a closer proximity would grant you further insight.

At the small lean of your body from the back of the deck chair, Sanji reached his palm up and cupped your cheek, his fingers lacing in your hair, as he guided your lips to be claimed beneath his. A small squeak exited your lips in shock at the gentleness of his touch, eyes wide and watching him as his brows furrowed. A small hum of his lips against yours informed you that he was as shocked about this as you were, but not shocked enough to end the kiss just yet.

He pried your lips apart with his own, tilting his head to nudge you with his chin. You hooked your arms around his neck, pulling him against yourself and reciprocated with enthusiasm; your tongue darting out to meet his own. He chuckled against your lips once he felt you relax into it, flicking his tongue against yours with a groan of appreciation. You nudged him away from you, breaking the meeting of his lips on yours and unhooked your arm from his neck.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you commented, raising your arms up and fixing his ruffled hair. His eyes widened, brows peaking at the center as his lips parted. Focusing on redressing him and straightening up his uniform had your gaze pulled from his, unable to read the absolute heartbreak written all over his face.

Nodding in appreciation at the straightening of his chefs jacket, you finally drew your smiling eyes up to meet his; immediately having your grin fall from your face once meeting with the sorrowful expression painted atop his features.

“Ji, are you okay? What’s wrong?” you asked, cupping his cheek and darting your gaze between his two gray orbs.

“We shouldn’t be doing this?” he whispered quietly, tilting his head down and gazing up at you through his eyelashes. Your eyes widened, smiling lips now falling open with a small shake of your head.

Scrunching your nose, you leant forward and pressed a chaste kiss against his lips which ended with as much haste as it began. You giggled as you felt him chase his lips forward to halt your retraction, but ultimately got away from his approach.

“I meant, you’ve only got about a minute left of your quarter,” you restated, confirming your words while elevating your hand to his chin. You brushed your thumb over his lower lip, dancing over his kiss-swollen lip with your digit. “We shouldn’t be doing this while we have so little time available for us to do so.”

“O-Oh,” Sanji stuttered, the blush once again rising to dance over the apples of his cheeks, tips of his ears and button of his nose. You had never seen such a pretty color gracing his features, your heart swooning at the chef as he attempted to stifle his rising blush.

“Has my flirty chef come back yet?” You asked him with a sly smile, retracting your hand from his face only to be caught within his own.

“Your flirty chef,” he whispered, eyes holding firm to your own as he elevated your knuckles below his lips and pressing a gentle kiss against your skin, “Is going to be flirting with you for the rest of this shift,” he pressed another kiss against the back of your hand, slightly further up than the last, “And hopefully all through Before Service, Family Meal, and Knock Offs,” he uttered between a flurry of pecks and grazes of his lips further up your arm.

Now it was your turn for the hues of warmth to swell beneath your cheeks, ears and nose at his words; becoming flustered further by the animal poised behind his eyes, threatening to ravish you with the intensity depicted beneath. He chuckled as he began showering your cheek with a further flutter of his lips grazing your skin. He halted just before meeting your lips with his, choosing to tease you with a small brush of his own.

“I’m going to cook you something,” he whispered, his breath dancing against your lips, “And you’re going to make those pretty sounds you do so well, hm?” He nodded, pouting his lips and widening his eyes with that innocent yet mischievous twinkle you have come to enjoy him wearing. You couldn’t help but nod in response, mesmerized by the enchantment held within his eyes.

“And then,” he ushered you against the beck of the chair, pressing his torso against yours and continuing to hold his lips an eyelash’s width away from your own, “I’m going show you how flirty your flirty chef can really be.” As you attempted to chase his lips to plant another kiss against his own, he quickly stood to his feet at the call of his name.

“Sanji!” Patty called, “Your macarons are portioned and ready for the oven. Take care of ‘em, would you?” Your breath caught in your throat, Sanji’s blush dissipating at the interruption and his face paling.

“Alright, I’ll be there Patty! Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” he shouted in return, frustration written over his expression.

“C’mon kid, we all know the only knickers you’re keen on seeing are the bartender’s!” He shouted in return, turning and stomping down the hallway towards the kitchen, “Get to it, Chef Zeff’s waiting.” Your eyes widened at the thought, your smirk withholding a small scream of bashful laughter from parting from your lips as your face drew a further flaming heat to it.

Sanji waited a brief moment, inhaling a deep breath through his nose before removing his finger from your lips, tracing it down your chin and tilting your face to meet his eyes. His gaze was doing its best to disguise the horror of having the secret he thought he’d been withholding from surfacing.

“I-I’m sorry,” he quickly stuttered, turning and immediately walking back to the kitchen with haste, the steam almost tangibly falling pouring from his ears as he stampeded away. You were too shocked to laugh, but a small giggle fell regardless.

You could not wait until the rush of service was completed to get to experience the flirtatious fluster of the blond chef after shift hours. Perhaps to even continue what began against the deck chairs in a more quiet and intimate setting.

#one piece #opla #x reader #opla fic #one piece live action #sanji #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #baratie fic #chef!sanji x bartender!reader #flustered sanji #whimpering sanji #op x reader #one piece x reader

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feimier · 9 months

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once upon a dream.. CHILDHOOD ENCOUNTERS ִ ࣪𖤐 ִinc. riddle, azul, malleus. gn reader┊ 日长睡起无情思，闲看儿童捉柳花。。。

↻ can be taken as both platonic or romantic!

ʚ Riddle Rosehearts ：the regular at the patisserie

His first encounter with you was the same day he allowed himself to taste the strawberry tarts. The sunlight shone brilliantly on the silver of the patisserie, and he remembers your smile as you entered, and remembers how desperately he wanted to feel that too. He’d see you stand on the tips of your toes and see the excited gleam in your eyes as you observed the many delicacies with eager anticipation, and would imagine the joy he would have if only he had the privileges too.

He remembers how Trey had called you over to their table, and remembers the ghastly speech you made on how blueberry tarts were better (he begs to differ, but alas). The distressing look on your face when he told you that this was his first in a shop, much less a patisserie, was a delight to see as he savoured in your agitation. Despite the harsh scoldings from his mother after, it was still undoubtedly the best afternoon he ever had.

Life was normal for him, for a while at least. That was until he started spotting unprompted appearances of strawberry tarts sitting on his bedroom windowsill. He was originally hesitant in his advances towards the dessert, but gave in to the temptations eventually. He thought it a miracle and perhaps it was his mother’s way of apologising, yet the continuous presence of a strawberry tart every Friday afternoon proved otherwise. After the third week, notes scribbled with small riddles and greetings started to emerge along with it; drawings and poems the next. Eventually, the mysterious sender attached long letters that would narrate the mishaps of their week. Slowly but steadily, he knew more and more about his mysterious benefactor, and he could readily hazard a guess at who it was.

He would have to give you his thanks the next time he sees you, if he sees you at all.

ʚ Azul Ashengrotto ：the hopeless romantic by the sea

It was monday when he found his first scrap of text encased in the bottle next to his front door.

He was dismissive of it initially, deciding that it just wasn’t worth his time to be fixated on something so small, however peculiar and strange it might be. Yet despite his ignorance, the bottles— all with odd letters inside— keep appearing every week. They went from one to two, from two to three, and now as many as seven were found near the areas of his home, and as the amount of bottles increased, so did his intrigue.

Eventually, he could not help but fall victim to his curiosity. He slowly uncorked the bottle and took out the letter inside. He was half expecting for the ocean waters to ravage it, but the letter seemed to be covered in a special kind of gel to prevent it from dissipating with liquid, and this alone was enough to pique his interest even more. Materials such as this were quite rare, even in the merworld.. so how did this sender get ahold of it? Perhaps if he were to investigate further.. he might be able to find the great mage behind it.. maybe it was fate after all that brought these letters to him!

He was beyond disappointed to find that it was not indeed from a great mage, but rather from a simple lovesick human who was in a desperate search for affections. The letter did not contain a legendary spell that would transcend his existence, much to his disdain. Yet, the beautifully written words continued to captivate his attention, and he wonders how stupid someone will have to be to send such charming mail so relentlessly.. and with none of them getting sent back a reply. It’s quite sad honestly; makes him wonder how he might help this poor— wealthy— unfortunate soul.

Thankfully, the sender address was included in the letters. So naturally, he just had to take the first chance to lend his helping hand! He wasted no time to pen his return letter— the contents narrating the dealings and his terms. He decided to be the person that would write you a return letter every two weeks, on the conditions that you would partially financially support any of his forthcoming businesses. You ought to be able to.. considering the amount of madol you must’ve spent to acquire such magical gel.

That was the start for his first business affair. Time had long passed since then; now he lives in the present, where he sits back on his chair as he reminisces the past. He wonders how you’ve been doing recently, after all he hasn’t once received a letter from you, even after he informed you of his change in address.

Maybe it’s time to visit you directly.. to discuss the further terms of the contract of course.. now that you’re a important sponsor of mostro lounge.. he’s certain that he has no particular longing to continue knowing your thoughts, your emotions, and your life. It’s really not that you’re on his mind.. nor is it that he’s taken a liking to your ramblings.. it’s only that he believes there should be decent communication between client and proprietor (he still hasn’t realised himself that he had long broken the rule of replying only after two weeks).

He doesn’t want to know you at all.. or does he?

ʚ Malleus Draconia ：his knight in shining armour

It was not so surprising for malleus to see your rather dense form emerge from the dark robes of night and the overly lengthened barriers of his abode; it had happened much too many times and your perseverance had far surpassed his— quite limited (as you would often comment)— expectations.

Primarily, the accidental encounters he and you share were meant to be accidental. They were only ever supposed to occur in his escapades into the neighborhooding woods, just as the first he met you. At that time, he was still blissfully unaware of your abilities to initiate forced entries upon places that you were not supposed to set foot in, but alas, the current mischievous twinkle in your demeanor only continues to prove his perception to be flawed. He watches your silhouette as you hastily tidied yourself while huffing out whispers of hello— there was something especially endearing about your ruffled state, for a reason he can’t quite put a finger on (perhaps he feels that it is akin to a secret you allowed yourself to share with him, a state where only he could know, a condition where it was suited for him to be ruffled too).

You were his secret, his escape from the crushing weight of the unbearable loneliness. You were the one flicker of color in his monochromatic life, the one who made him feel alive in this dream. Your visits to his balcony were nothing less than a miracle to him ,and so his original casual anticipations of your visits have slowly turned into something he cannot live without. It was a routine that you would come for one night every week, and you’d talk with him about mundane things in life like how your toothpaste tastes weird or how you have to do your bedsheets tomorrow. These carefree conversations are one of the few ties he has with childishness, and he relishes in it, no matter how fleeting the moments may be.

He sees your goodbye as you hop off the balcony, and he waves to you with a heavier heart than usual. He did not yet know that this would be the last he sees of you, for a very long time.

comments, likes and reblogs are all greatly appreciated! thank you for the support 🌟🌟

#⊹dreams #i barfed this one out #this was written a while ago so it might not be that good lol #azul’s one was the hardest I was so scared of it being ooc #alas! here we are #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #gn reader

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quindread · 11 months

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THE COTTAGECORE MARI AU PROMPT THAT NOBODY ASKED FOR

Pairing: Daminette (edit: they’re like 19/20 in this, post high-school)

Rating: It has mature themes, you have been warned. But it’s pretty tame at the same time. Violence + Sexual Themes

________________

Mari is diagnosed with PTSD and anxiety disorder after she quite literally removed her beloved city’s supervillain (and her dear partner’s parent) from the plane of existence. Like she removes the suffering from the minds of all of Paris and has Gabriel written off in a car accident a year after his wife’s disappearance. Only her Court (Adrien, Kagami, Zoe, Alix, Max) and the Order remembers. Mari and Adrien decide not to pursue a relationship. They’re both healing and are decidedly better off friends - siblings in everything but blood.

Lila, who was not punished due to her not really being a miraculous holder and upsetting the balance, continues to slander Mari. Her class isn’t hostile but has no desire to interact with the “new and mean Marinette” Lila was painting her to be. It’s still a huge betrayal given the fact that Mari was supportive and very generous to these people.

So here’s how her new housing arrangement works: have you ever wondered how Gina can afford to travel around the world without a job? Yeah, I think she came from money. Like, old money - real estate old money to be precise. Passive income and such. Hearing about her Fairy’s situation, she offers an unused property at the countryside of Metropolis.

Marinette’s therapist and parents approve of her vacationing there for the summer when they realize that her stressors and triggers where all environmental. So off our girl goes!

Note: She does not have the mother box with her anymore, just Tikki, Plagg, and Kaalki. (She does have unrestricted access to it as the Grand Guardian though - she trains with the Order once a week in Tibet until she doesn’t)

Mari is aware of the Supers and was relieved that the Kwamis don’t show up in x-ray visions and with the fear of them eavesdropping she learns FSL to communicate with them.

The townhouse and the verdure around the property inspires Mari to start a garden. The quiet oddly soothes her and when she feels lonely she goes into town or the nearby farmer’s market where she charms the locals. She meets the Kents - they love her! Martha enjoys baking with her. Lois uncovers her identity as Jagged and Clara Nightingale’s exclusive (and reclusive) designer - they bond over fashion trends and the gossip surrounding the industry. Clark and Jon were another story.

She figures them out having sensed the same soul in Superman and Superboy in this father-and-son duo. They x-ray her as a precaution and finds the mysterious cracks and evidence of past injuries that should have killed her. There’s a very anti-climatic reveal that Martha and Lois are not privy to with respect to Marinette’s wishes.

At least one Kent would be in her home during the day. The Kwamis are free to roam around when it was Clark and/or Jon visiting. She ends up bonding with Jon who also grew up too fast (metaphorically and literally).

She ends up extending her stay in Metropolis indefinitely. Her parents also decided to open a branch of their patisserie there which Mari managed. They visit her as often as they could.

Mari was dismayed to find that no, Metropolis had no schools with both a fashion and business degree - that’s how she ends up in Gotham University.

Jon tells Mari about a Damian - a friend of his.

J: He’s…. uh… he has a big heart.

M: …

J: He’s a bit of an asshole(?)

M: Ah.

Mari meets Damian who reminds her of Kagami - antisocial and proper. They share a few business classes and are both members of the art club.

Mari is still this ball of anxiousness and has only allowed Mia “Maps” Mizoguchi and Katherine Karlo into her life, the former she learned was close to Damian - she didn’t mind when she and the girls met up with Damian, he was quiet, honest, and minded his own business. Through their hangouts Damian finds out about the friendship between Jon and Mari.

He’s hesitant to befriend her at first due to the conflicting rumors about her: due to her timid personality she had a split reputation. One side called her sweet, shy, and kind. While the other calling her arrogant, high-maintenance, and rude. He soon finds out that the latter half were spread by cliques who’s offer of friendship she declined and men she rejected. He was glad that he relented to Maps’ insistent invitations - she was a decent person to hang out with and it didn’t hurt that she was pleasing to the eye. (She also enjoyed sharing her vegetarian salads with him - he starts appreciating it more when he learns that she picks the vegetables straight from the garden she grows.)

As her luck would have it, a robbery unfolds at one of their favorite coffee spots. Mari and Damian - who were both pretending to be civ - try to find a way to protect their friends. The robbers recognizes Damian as a Wayne and takes him and another GU(a school for rich and affluent people’s children) kid - Marinette - who had stood in front of her friends.

They’re gagged, blindfolded, and carted off to who knows where. Damian discreetly activates a distress signal and the bats spur into action. Mari, aware that she was sturdier than Damian, draws the men’s attention to her (she purposely pisses them off and gets beaten up when they start to pester Damian).

M: [removes her gag somehow] Really? A ski mask? And in black? How boring can you get?

*Damian shaking his head furiously in the background*

Kidnapper(KN): Shut up, girlie!

M: You know I always wondered how Kidnappers could have a secret a warehouse as a hideout. It’s not like you can afford the rent—

KN: Are you trying to get yourself killed?

M: You’re backed up by some politician aren’t you?

KN: H-How the fuck did this bitch know?

M: There’s literally a stack of campaign papers behind you.

KN: Wha—

M: That’s some shit graphic design by the way. I’ve seen grade schoolers that can do better.

KN: [points a gun at her] Shut up or I’ll blow your brains out.

M: You wouldn’t.

KN: The fuck do you know—

M: You need me alive to get ransom from my parents.

KN: …Nobody said you had to be in one piece though.

M: Touché—[get slapped hard]

*Damian basically starts convulsing in the background*

M: …Damn. You punch like a cunt—[And the kidnappers basically start to rough her up]

The bats arrive in five minutes and it’s Red Hood that finds them first. He sees these mf’s beating up a woman and goes ballistic(pun intended). Red Robin and Spoiler has to forcibly restrain him when he starts to use his fist instead of his guns.

M: [bleeding and bruised] And that’s how you deck someone, you amateurs.

D: [who was released by Black Bat is confused, mad at himself, and in awe] You blithering idiot! Why the fuck would you aggravate our captors like that?

M: [delirious] It was either you or me Damian. Can’t have your pretty face damaged now, can we?

D: [Is floored and very concerned] And what of yours?

M: … dun worry—my assets are…elsewhere… [passes out from the pain]

D: …

Later, his family would tease him about the flirting when he isn’t all sensitive about the incident.

Winter break comes, most of the Batfam visits the Kents(they have a penthouse/some ridiculous property in Metropolis) as a tradition. The Kents went to visit Gotham and stayed at the manor last year.

(Batfam who went: Bruce, Dick, Jason, Steph, Cass, and Damian)

They visit Mari too. Dick and Steph are absolutely thrilled about her cottagecore lifestyle. So much so that they match her aesthetic and begin helping out in the garden - they send pictures to Alfred who request they bring back fresh produce.

Jon and Jason plot to get Damian and Mari together. Unbeknownst to them that Damian was already resolute on courting Mari like the decorous man that he was - he didn’t know what he was doing but Mari’s flush when he initiates flirting tells him he’s doing okay.

Because of his childhood, Damian was never the type to be touchy but imagine his shock when he finds out that one of his more prominent love languages was physical touch. He realizes he’s touch-starved almost immediately when Mari starts giving him small touches like a hand against his bicep, she had a fondness for touching his hair which never failed to deliver a shiver down his spine, and hugs from her are comforting - she felt like home.

Meanwhile Mari does not have any idea how she survived the early stages of Damian’s advances. He was blunt and did not pull his words with insults but it apparently translated to him being verbally open with his affections.

M: I always wanted to be the Knitting Fairy while growing up.

D: Does it not please you that you became a garden fairy instead?

M: Huh, that doesn’t sound so bad.

D: Well, you certainly look the part.

M: [turns into the same shade as the poppy beside her]

And then when the tension between them became more prominent he wasn’t shy with dropping innuendos too.

M: [open’s the door for Damian, haggard from lifting sacks of garden soil] Oh, I didn’t know you were coming so early. I’m a bit of a mess. Sorry.

D: [Tilts his head] You say that as if I wouldn’t appreciate you sweaty and tousled after a rigorous activity.

M: [self-combusts]

And when the touching began?

M: Damian, what color do you think looks better with this shade of blue?

D: [places a hand on her side while looking over her shoulder] I think the a more neutral cream would do.

M: [stops functioning]

Their first kiss?

Pulled straight out of a book that Marinette only read in the privacy of her bedroom.

They’re teasing each other, it evolves to a game of cat and mouse with Damian skillfully evading her. She corners him by turning on some of her sprinkles. He gets wet, growls in the way he would in Mari’s dreams, and pulls of his shirt. She’s too distracted by the hard planes of his stomach to notice him prowling towards her like a beast moving to claim his prey. He picks her off the ground with ease - he’s a foot taller than her - and takes her to the sprinklers.

(I’m going to write this part out properly, maybe to inspire myself or a potential adopter of this prompt)

“Nononono!” Marinette shrieks as the first round of water splashes her. She writhes but Damian had her arms held down her sides.

“All is fair in love and war, Ya Amar.” She ignores the endearment in favor of closing her eyes as the sprinkles rotate in their direction again. But she knows what it means. Ya Amar. My moon. His moon. The water had nothing on the chill that ran down her spine

The water stars seeping into her intimates and she’s soberly aware that the light fabric of her dress would betray her. It doesn’t take long for Damian to discover that fact, he releases a strangle sound. She opens her eyes, he snaps his eyes from where he was clearly looking at her chest. He scrambles to drop her.

“Shit— I’m sorry. This was not my intention—“ he starts but she’s faster. Her now free arms grasps his shoulders and without a second thought, she drops her lips to meet his. Damian inhales sharply and he tilts his head, temporarily breaking the kiss before raising her higher and pulling her by the back of neck - he kisses her with hunger and passion that has Marinette melting further against his chest.

She wraps her legs around his back and he moves to tightly grasp both the back of her thighs. She would worry about bruises later when she didn’t have Damian’s tongue caressing her own. He drops them to the ground and Marinette does not release her hold over his waist. She whines against his lips when she feels the consequences of their activity.

His hands start wandering as he greedily collects and files the sounds that leaves her lips. He begins to trail kisses down her neck to the neckline of her dress that now clung to her body like a second skin giving him his first peek at the maddening shape of her body. And just when he trails a finger against the underside of her breast a loud noise pulls them apart.

Jason finds them and the sight in Mari’s garden has him dropping the shovel he was asked to bring over.

J: Fuck! No, don’t stop! Hell—I’ll leave—I didn’t see shit!

D: [moving to cover Marinette who covered her face in embarrassment] Fuck off, Todd!

J: I’m sorry! [slams the door shot]

D: Tt.

J: [shouts from inside the house] Use protection!

D: Todd!

They started officially dating that day and Jason had no reservations in sharing that he definitely cockblocked his little brother much to Mari and Damian’s horror.

Both keeps the PDA to minimum in school but it was very clear how amorous they where in “private”. There is a table in the art hall that Mari can’t quite look at without blushing to her roots.

She finds out he’s Robin after her first encounter with his alter-ego. He confesses his past when she confronts him. There’s fear of abandonment in his eyes when he gazes at her after his spiel but she kisses his worries and doubts away. She even goes to show her appreciation for his years of service to Gotham.

Her reveal happens when she unceremoniously drops a vial in Jason’s hand claiming that it would remedy the effects of the Lazarus pits with continuous use - it was completed after a year in the making.

Cardinal joins the Batfam occasionally as part of Batman’s contingency plans. They respect her choice as a retired super-soldier and try to keep her out of the business which she appreciates. She is officially initiated as a member of Justice League Dark as an informant/magic specialist and a wildcard.

Years later, she legally inherits the property from Gina when she and Damian get engaged. Damian moves in with her and she lives her cottage life all while being a reclusive designer that comes out once in a while for fashion week.

FIN

AN:

Maybe there’s a Lila take down somewhere but I don’t have the energy to write her at all. We all know its Damian and Tim that makes sure she never sets a foot in high society ever again.

Ig add some details about learning to healthily cope with her anxiety disorder under the guidance and love of her found family? (I have a similar illness but me and my therapist are still figuring it out so I have little idea how to write this) Her PTSD does not need further discussion (miss ma’am had to kill someone) but her anxiety disorder stems from the fact the she’s a person who’s in charge of world-ending powers - everyone and even yourself can become untrustworthy. She starts to get nervous from misreading body languages and everyone is suddenly out to get her.

#mlb x dc #i wrote this instead of studying #daminette #marinette dupain cheng #bamf marinette #maribat

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twstgarden · 5 months

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❀ ❝ 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝘆 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗰𝗼-𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿 ❞

━ actor! dorm leaders (minus kalim) x fem! actor! reader (reader can either be yuu or an oc/twstsona) ━ as a well-known performer, you have worked with several actors and actresses in several movies and series, but your relationship with them was always professional and platonic. however, one actor made you feel butterflies while you were shooting a scene with them. (f/n means first name)

do not steal or translate without my permission.

— 𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙨 —

today's news: riddle rosehearts and f/n l/n to star together in the newest lawyer romance film — will they be our new on-screen love interests?

co-starring with riddle rosehearts in this new legal drama film was not what you expected this year. yes, you have worked alongside this actor in several shows, one of them being a tv series inspired by a mobile game called twisted wonderland.

you weren't typically known as a performer in legal drama films, but it isn't so bad to expand your repertoire, no?

so here you were in the movie studio, seated politely as the hair and make-up artists started touching you up for your next scene. riddle was seated as well; his own hair and make-up artists were touching him up while he rehearsed his lines under his breath.

riddle rosehearts was the diligent, serious type of actor. come to think of it, he does have similarities with the character he plays in twisted wonderland, but he does know how to have fun from time to time.

like his role in twisted wonderland, riddle also loves hedgehogs, and he would sometimes scold another co-star, ace trappola, if he messes around the studio too much and disrupt the shooting sessions.

however, now, he was the only actor from twisted wonderland in this set — aside from you, of course.

"alright, picture is up!"

the voice of the assistant director caught both of your attention as you thanked the hair and make-up artists before approaching the movie set. you stood in your position and did some soft breathing exercises to help calm your nerves a little bit before the scene started.

you were playing the role of a lawyer fresh out of law school, while riddle also plays the role of a lawyer but is your character's senior. that said, riddle's character is the youngest top lawyer in the law firm and this specific scene you were shooting is when your character tries to take riddle's character out to relax after overworking so much in the firm.

"action!"

and with that, the two of you were in character. your character's desk was next to riddle's as you sat on your chair. you turned to face riddle as you spoke, "hey, mister rosehearts... do you always stay in the firm overtime?"

"yes."

what a curt answer, but ah, it was part of the script.

"do you ever leave the firm?" you asked with a raised brow, looking at the clock prop and seeing that there are 15 minutes before you could clock out. "it's not like i live here," responded riddle, "but yes, i do tend to stay late in the office especially when there are plenty of cases i need to handle."

"woah~ you're really amazing, mister rosehearts. no wonder you're the top lawyer in this firm," you responded, leaning back on your chair as you looked at your co-star while he typed random things on the computer before him to pretend his character was working.

"but..." you trailed off as you moved closer to him with the use of your rolling chair. once you were beside riddle, you spoke your next line, "being the best lawyer in this firm doesn't mean you have to overwork yourself. how about i take you to a patisserie so you could unwind and relax? take your mind off work, sir!"

riddle then looked at you with a serious expression, but you can tell that his character was conveying both disbelief at your character for suggesting such a thing and curiosity about your character's actions. this junior wish to make their senior live life outside of the four corners of the law firm?

"...miss l/n, don't you have any cases to work on?"

"i've revised them already, and we have..." you looked up at the clock prop, "10 minutes before we clock out. come onnn, it'll be fun!" riddle sighed and shrugged as he placed both arms on the armrest, "just this once."

"cut!"

the assistant director's voice made you and riddle sigh softly as you broke character for a bit. the director then held the megaphone as he spoke, "that was great, you two. however, i'd like for you to repeat the last portion, starting from the line, "don't you have any cases to work on?", alright?"

"yes, director," responded riddle as he let out a heavy breath to calm himself. you smiled at him and patted his shoulder, "you got this, riddle." the red-haired male smiled at you as he nodded, "yes, thank you, f/n."

"ready? action!"

"miss l/n, don't you have any cases to work on?" riddle asked in a stern tone as he looked at your character with a bored expression. you frowned a little as you spoke, "i've revised them already, mister rosehearts! and besides, we have around 10 minutes before we clock out... come on~ it'll be fun!"

riddle continued typing on the keyboard, but you could see the computer was turned off. luckily, that wasn't seen on camera. riddle sighed and leaned back on his office chair, placing his arms on the armrest as he looked at you with that same bored expression.

"fine. just this once."

"annnnd cut! that was perfect! alright, moving on!" spoke the director as you and riddle stood up, your hair and make-up artists approaching you and working on touching up your appearance while the crew worked on changing the scenery of the movie set.

during all these preparations for the next scene, you sat beside riddle and looked at the script on his hands while he kept rehearsing his lines under his breath. since it would take a while before your next shot, you spoke to him, "hey, how about i help you?"

riddle glanced at you and handed his script with a smile, "sure, no problem. thank you, f/n..." you nodded with a smile and held his script as you started rehearsing with him, "alright, i'll start with my line and we can go from there... ahem... mister rosehearts, isn't this patisserie wonderful? there are plenty of delicious treats in here!"

"indeed. you are quite fond of them, miss l/n," spoke riddle as you gave him a thumbs up to indicate he perfectly said his line.

"mhm! they're amazing...! then, our characters take a seat, drink on some beverages, though i'm quite sure they'll just hand us water with some food colouring..." you commented, which earned a chuckle from riddle, "then it'll be your line!"

"right, uh... miss l/n, how do you like being a lawyer so far?"

"mister rosehearts, we're here so we can relax, not think of work, you know? but i would say i enjoy it... it is quite stressful, yes, but the satisfaction we get at the end of the cases that went well feels rewarding..." you responded, holding the script and eyeing it intently.

"i see... that makes sense. if you ever feel overwhelmed, you can always ask me for a helping hand. you're a diligent and honest person and i see a lot of potential in you... you're making us proud."

ah.

it's just a line from the script. it's just a line from the script.

you're a professional performer. you shouldn't mix these lines up with reality.

but... the way riddle said it gave you butterflies. you cleared your throat to try and brush off your slightly flustered state, nodding to indicate that he said his line right.

due to your flustered state, you did not notice the way riddle smiled at you. there was a hint of adoration and fondness in his eyes that went unnoticed by you, it was as if he was speaking as both his character and himself.

"alright, uh... thank you, mister rosehearts."

you smiled at riddle and handed back the script to him as he thanked you. feeling his hand brush against yours as he grabbed the script made you feel butterflies again. what was going on?

well, whatever it was, you tried to best to ignore it.

and even if riddle had not noticed your flustered state, other people have.

"riddle rosehearts and f/n l/n to star in the newest lawyer romance film, on-screen love interests or off-screen sweethearts?" mumbled the production assistant to the executive producer as they both giggled amongst themselves.

— 𝙡𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙖 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙖𝙧 —

distinguished guests of tonight's show! here we have one of the world-famous celebrity couples in set joining us today! let's welcome leona kingscholar and f/n l/n!

the production phase of the sports film that you and leona co-starred in had just finished and you two were now attending talk shows and interviews to talk about the movie, your lives, and so on. on this specific night, you and leona were invited as guests to the popular late-night talk show called the diamond night show.

the host? it's one of your co-stars in the mobile game-inspired series called twisted wonderland, cater diamond.

"hello, everyone! welcome to the diamond night show!"

as soon as cater spoke, the crowd went wild. he had a lively audience despite running this show at around midnight. cater always had this charm on him that just energizes people.

"we have two very special guests tonight, i'm sure you all would be totes hyped as i am to see them! let's welcome... the celebrity couple that made us believe love is still in the air tonight... leona kingscholar and f/n l/n!!!"

and again, the crowd went wild, but this was both of your cues to enter the scene. you and leona went up on the stage and waved to the crowd as you sat on the couch beside cater's desk. the orange-haired fellow smiled at the sight of you and leona as he spoke, "leona, f/n! hey, it's been a while!"

you greeted cater with a friendly smile, "cay-kun! how have you been? wow, a late-night talk show, huh?"

leona merely gave cater a nod as he spoke, "been a while."

you and cater chuckled as the orange-haired host replied, "it has been a while since twisted wonderland ended its series, so i found the time to start my own late-night talk show! it's been fun having the rest of our co-stars here from time to time. anyway, enough about that, how are things with you two?"

"uhh... well, well... we've been well..." you and leona replied in unison as the crowd laughed a bit.

"wow~ you two have this chemistry that is noticeable even when we were filming twisted wonderland way back then!" commented cater as the crowd went wild.

"if it was that obvious back then, i guess i can see why f/n and i are considered to be an on-screen couple," spoke leona as you laughed softly. "i remember when we had to retake a lot of scenes because i couldn't stop laughing at leona," you added, which made cater laugh.

"because i wasn't used to seeing him so grumpy all the time!" you spoke in a lighthearted tone while laughing, "but i can also see that his character in twisted wonderland has similarities to who he is as a person."

"you have similarities with your character, too," replied leona as he snickered.

"anyway, congratulations to you two for the success of your latest movie!" cheered cater as the crowd went wild again. you and leona smiled and thanked them as you spoke first, "ah, yes... it was fun to film this movie, everyone was so nice and they're all working hard. i'm happy to know that the movie was a success."

"i'd say that aside from twisted wonderland, shooting this movie was one of the best experiences i had," added leona as cater nodded. "i heard the crew and the cast were having a great time during the making of this movie, although it can be stressful at times."

"yes, yes, well... i'm sure every making of the movie has its stressful times, so that wouldn't be a surprise, but i'd say the lighthearted moments were really the most memorable ones," you replied.

"before we dig deeper into that, i, along with the rest of the crowd and the people watching back home, want to know... are you two actually a couple?" cater spoke as his voice went gradually a softer tone as he asked that question. the crowd yelled and cheered about how they were curious to know the truth, which made you and leona glance at one another with a smile.

you then looked at cater and nodded, responding nonchalantly as if it wasn't a big deal, "yeah, we are."

and again, the crowd went wild, but even louder than earlier.

"woah, since when?! what made you realize you liked each other?" asked cater as he now grew curious. "it realized i got a crush on leona during our filming session of twisted wonderland's second season... but i was too shy to admit it."

"and i realized i got a crush on them during the filming session of twisted wonderland's pilot episode..." added leona as you looked at him with a smile.

"ah, the pilot episode that was never released?" asked cater, which made you and leona nod.

...

"okay, picture's up! we're recording in 3..." spoke the assistant director as you and leona stood in your respective positions. once the camera and audio were recording, you started to get into character. grim, who was just a plushie edited by cgi, started his line.

"hey, take a look at this! it looks like there are tons of fruits in here! they smell so good!" spoke grim's voice actor as you started to walk down the botanical garden, intentionally stepping on what seemed to be leona's tail.

"ow!" shrieked leona as he hissed and glared at you and the grim plushie, "hey. you've got guts stepping on someone's tail without apologizing." grim then replied, "are you the guy tending to this place? you look scary..."

leona clicked his tongue in annoyance as he mumbled, "I went here thinking i can take a nice nap, but my tail gets stepped on. this is the worst." you scoffed to yourself and looked away, mumbling softly, "it's your fault for sticking your tail out on the path in the first place..."

leona raised a brow at your words, eyeing you up and down as he remarked, "ah, i saw you at the entrance ceremony." he then leaned out next to your ear as he sniffed your scent, making you freeze on the spot as instructed in the script.

however, the proximity was suddenly making your heart race. you could smell his perfume; his fragrant scent was pleasing, and you liked it. his eyes trailed all over your figure with that small smirk on his face that his character usually uses. you know it's just acting, but you can't deny how attractive he looks.

oh, surely, you weren't falling for your co-star.

"i don't smell a spark of magic in you. i'm not going to pick a fight with a weakling," spoke leona before he turned around and left, just as the script had instructed.

"━cut!"

suddenly, the assistant director's voice echoed loudly throughout the studio while the director sighed. "this doesn't seem right... we'll revise the script. the actors can take a rest for a moment."

once you sat on your chair, you let out a huge sigh which caught cater's attention. he looked at you and tilted his head, "you good, girl? you seem spooked."

you stayed silent for a moment, biting the inside of your cheek as you sighed heavily once more, "i just... feel weird lately." you then dismissed yourself with a smile as you told cater not to worry about it.

...

"ohh! i see, i remember that! haha, i really thought you were sick for a moment, n/n! but you just caught the feels," spoke cater as his words made the crowd laugh a little in response, "it's really a pleasure to see you two again, lovebirds! hehe, we all hope you guys will end up getting married and having adorable little babies!"

the crowd went wild.

and you? flustered. leona chuckled at your reaction as he placed an arm around your shoulder before looking at cater, "you all better look forward to it." once again, the crowd screamed with joy before they started chanting a combination of both your names - a ship name, you could say.

━ 𝙖𝙯𝙪𝙡 𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙤 ━

studio gossip says two certain performers have a chemistry that makes them so perfect for each other! everyone and their pets ship them~

another day of filming, another day of hearing giggles around the studio. you were in the hair and make-up area as the hair stylist started fixing your hair. your other co-stars were busy touching up as well, while the others were revising their lines or drinking some water and doing vocal exercises.

suddenly, the voices of the assistant director and the production assistant caught your attention as they gossiped amongst themselves by the door, which happened to be near where you were seated.

"don't you think our film's male and female lead have good chemistry?" spoke the assistant director as she chuckled while the production assistant nodded with a laugh.

"totally! i have worked in many films, but this year's movie actors totally have great chemistry on-screen or off-screen. i bet they'd be a couple soon," replied the production assistant as you blushed a little upon hearing their words.

you. you were the female lead.

your current project is a corporate-centred film about your character returning to the workforce for the first time after a long break. an adult woman from the lands of the east migrating to the west for career opportunities ends up becoming employed in one of the world's most known corporations, and she happens to land a job as the chief operating officer and works closely with the corporate's ceo.

from what you have read the brief, the film mostly focuses on the struggles of your character and how corporate jobs have the tendency to demand a lot from one person, but it can get rewarding at the end of the day. there were also implied hints of romance, so there's that.

now, it all seemed great until you have been partnered up with one of the industry's well-known businessman and actor, who also happens to be your co-star in a series long ago - azul ashengrotto.

you have been familiar with him. he was your co-star in twisted wonderland, but it has been a few years since you've worked with him after the end of twisted wonderland. though you felt excited at the thought of meeting with an old friend, you also felt nervous at the thought of acting those lovey-dovey scenes with him.

"anyway, we better head back and start filming scene 50." the voice of the assistant director brought you back to reality as the hair stylist smiled at you while looking at your reflection. "you're all set, ma'am!" exclaimed your hair stylist as you smiled and thanked her before heading to the set.

"okay! so, for scene fifty, i'm sure you all know what to do... let's adjust the camera... picture's up!" spoke the assistant director as the cameraman fixed the angle of the camera, "okay... action!"

the set was designed to look like your office as you sat on the executive chair, looking through the papers as if you were working, noticing that the papers on your desk were just random articles that were made for the sake of the prop.

the scene starts with you sighing as you go through the prop documents, supposedly analyzing the reports sent by each department's head and jotting down all the ideas that your character had in mind to set a new policy in the corporation.

the door then opened as azul walked in, making you stand up as you spoke in surprise, "sir, i wasn't expecting you to come to my office... you could have rung me up and i'll head to yours." azul shook his head and smiled at you, remembering all his lines as always. he walked towards you until you were both standing across one another, with only your executive table blocking his path, "how are you liking the job so far?"

your expression shifted to that of surprise as told by the script, "oh, i... like it a lot. i'm adjusting well. thank you for checking in..." azul still had that smile on his face before looking around the room, the glass walls were covered by the roller shades, not allowing anyone to look into your office as it gave you complete privacy.

"now, business is business. i'm sure you know that, l/n..." trailed azul as you nodded, "however, i am reaching out to you right now as an individual, not as your boss." you raised a brow in response before he grabbed an envelope from the inner pocket of his suit and handing it to you.

you then grabbed it and the first thing that caught your attention were the words, 'you are invited'. you looked up at him to see azul still smiling, "there's a party going on this friday, and it's rather for personal reasons. a family member of mine is hosting an engagement party and i was invited. i was told it is a... prom-themed engagement party, perhaps to recreate the first date or so."

"so... you're inviting me?" you asked.

"yes... the invitation indicated that each person could bring a plus one, and i thought of inviting you. i want to get to know you more, l/n, if you'd let me," spoke azul before he leaned forward to bow a little, making you surprised as you had never seen him like that before.

you grew flustered.

this was not part of the script, so you tried to calm yourself, but you knew your flustered state was seen on camera. azul was a little curious about your reaction since he knew your character was only supposed to smile and say yes, but you were full-on blushing.

unbeknownst to you and your co-star, the director and the assistant director looked at one another with knowing smiles.

due to your flustered state, you were a little delayed in your response as you accidentally stuttered your lines out, "i-i... um... s-sure! yes, i'll go with you, then... ah! i'm so sorry!"

you covered your red face as giggles erupted from the room as the cameraman paused the recording. azul laughed as well before looking at the director, "i think she's falling in love, director!"

"the way you say it really made me flustered!" you exclaimed with a smile and a dark blush as you grew embarrassed. the assistant director and the director looked at each other once more before the latter spoke, "i see a new relationship blooming~ they'd totally grab the headlines."

━ 𝙫𝙞𝙡 𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙚𝙣𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙩 ━

this just in, actor and model vil schoenheit to star in the upcoming romance film with twisted wonderland co-star and rumoured partner, f/n l/n.

the news of your new project with vil has been spreading like wildfire. of course, you remained professional and did not care about the circulating rumours about you two dating and whatnot, you had a career to focus on and so did he.

filming the romance film was as sensational as it has always been. it was pleasant to work with vil, his level of professionalism and his acting skills always made you admire him. how can a man so beautiful be so talented as well? he’s like a perfect package, at least, to you and to his fans.

you were currently taking interviews with vil at the red carpet right after the evening award show. you have been surrounded by paparazzi and newscasters, wanting to get even a slice of the news and report it to the public.

“f/n! vil! what can you say about your upcoming film?!” spoke one of the newscasters as they held the mic towards you two. you and vil gave them a smile as you spoke kindly, “all i can say is it is something to look forward to. vil and i have both expressed our enthusiasm in the release of ‘a love untold’, and… it will make you cry; it will make you swoon, and it will help you realise how lucky you are to have someone loving you unconditionally.”

“similar to miss f/n’s statement, i can attest that a love untold is something you all can look forward to. we have done our very best and gave our all in the filming and production of this movie,” added vil as the others in the crowd started screaming and swooning.

soon, the release of your movie was made public and you were in your home, reading to relax for the evening until you heard two of your property caretakers squealing in the kitchen. you stood up from the couch and walked towards the direction of your squealing caretakers and noticed they were watching your film through their device whilst chopping some vegetables for dinner.

the current scene playing on their device made you pause a bit as you watched by the door.

…

“if you’re tired, then rest and let me handle everything. if you’re tired of carrying the burdens, then lean on me for support. i’m always ready to support you with open arms and you know that,” spoke vil as he was in-character.

your teary expression flashed by the screen as it started raining. the setting was the streets on a rainy night right outside your character’s house. vil wrapped his arms around you as you continued to sob your lines out for dramatic effect.

“i’m sorry,” you sobbed, “it’s just that my parents– “

“your parents do not know how many nights you spent crying because you think you’re not good enough. it’s time to set boundaries … i can’t let you do this to yourself any longer,” whispered vil as he caressed your hair and held you in an embrace, not caring if he was drenched in the rain – which was actually regular water pouring through a garden watering pot.

you then looked up to meet his gaze as he wiped your tears away, smiling softly at you.

…

you smiled to yourself as you watched the scene. you had enjoyed filming that part, albeit there was a lot of giggles right after the scene was cut due to you and vil getting drenched, as well as a blooper scene where the water in the pot ran out in the middle of a dramatic scene.

that scene made you think about your relationship with vil. he was always there for you ever since you started your journey in show business, and he was always supportive of your goals and ambitions.

deciding to give him some appreciation, you walked away from the kitchen door and back into the lounge as you grabbed your phone and sent vil a quick text.

‘darling, if i have not said this enough, i love you and i appreciate you.’

it was true that you and vil were dating. none of you denied the allegations, after all.

━ 𝙞𝙙𝙞𝙖 𝙨𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙙 ━

this is your daily dose of celebrity gossip! idia shroud and f/n l/n have been spotted together in the game fest yesterday! dating rumours have spiked after photo evidence of the two together has been leaked to the media.

‘n/n’

‘f/n’

‘f/n l/n’

the continuous beeping notifications of your device woke you up from your slumber as you groaned and grabbed it, wondering what was so urgent at 6 in a saturday morning. you unlocked your phone to see several messages from idia, a fellow actor and your previous co-star in the series twisted wonderland.

all his messages were mostly your nickname and your name, as well as a few messages saying, ‘wake up’ and ‘we’re trending!!!’. you raised a brow and replied to his messages, asking him what was going on, that it was so early in the morning, and if he ever slept at all.

he then sent you a link to a social media post that had a video of the entertainment news featuring you and idia. what made your eyes widen was the picture shown. it was a photo of you and idia dressed in casualwear, smiling at one another with a bunch of giant plushies in hand.

it was a photo from yesterday. you two were completely unaware that people recognized you and took photos of you both.

…

“look! there’s a virtual reality corner over there!” you exclaimed, excitement laced in your tone as you tugged on idia’s arm and pointed at the vr gaming area. he quickly looked at the direction you’re pointing at. the sunglasses you both wore made everything seem tinted, but you did not mind as it is necessary to hide your identity.

the last thing you wanted was people to recognize you both and spread rumours.

you and idia were here as mere individuals, not as an actress and actor, not as superstars. you wanted to enjoy your night after shooting some scenes in the morning, and the game festival was the perfect place for you and idia to wind down and have fun.

you two had the night of your lives, enjoying yourselves to the fullest in the gaming festival.

perhaps, you two enjoyed too much that you did not realise someone snuck a picture of the two of you as soon as your hoods fell and revealed both of your hair tied into a ponytail, and idia was very recognizable with that blue hair of his.

…

“oh… my… god…” you mumbled under your breath in shock as you stared at the video playing on your screen. ‘once again, this is your daily dose of celebrity gossip! let’s hope and wait for either one of them to confirm that they are indeed dating!’

those were the last words you heard before the video ended. you still stared in disbelief, not knowing what to do or what to say and you knew your talent manager will immediately start asking you about it once they see this video.

you quickly replied to idia, ‘what do we do?’

‘i don’t know…’ replied idia.

‘should we go public?’ you asked, typing rapidly as you felt your heart beating loudly.

‘we’d get endless interviews,’ responded the man.

you sighed to yourself as you continued texting him until you both came to a conclusion to let the rumours be for a while as it will eventually die out. your managers said the same thing as well, to let the rumours be and it will eventually die out.

it did not.

days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and months turned into a year. surely, people aren’t that interested in your love life? you had expected it to die out and people would move on, but no matter how long you told yourself that, the rumours seemed to spike even more.

eventually, you and idia came out to the public and confirmed the dating rumours going around and, much to idia’s discomfort, several interviews have piled up one after the other, completely interested in knowing the timeline of your relationship and whatnot.

‘ladies and gentlemen, it has been confirmed by the couple themselves that they are indeed a pair! f/n l/n and idia shroud have made their confirmation to the public during the wonderland award show!’

━ 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙪𝙨 𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙖 ━

sensational sparks: malleus draconia and f/n l/n set to ignite screens in anticipated romance film.

working with the renowned malleus draconia felt like an honour – to you, at least. he was well-known throughout the industry as a charmingly mysterious and talented actor, not uttering a lot about himself but is known to be respectful to everyone he meets.

starring with him in twisted wonderland was great. his character in the series is quite like his real personality that you couldn’t help but think he was not acting at all. years have passed since twisted wonderland ended and you two had pursued your own paths in acting, taking up different genres of projects to play in to discover yourself.

you had not expected your fates to cross again, and you were a little shy to establish a connection with him that runs deeper than an acquaintance or a co-worker, so you were left to accept that you’d probably just admire him from afar.

however, it seems fate was playing cards and luck was on your side. you had accepted a new project wherein you play the female lead in a historical romance movie. according to the script sent to you, the movie was set in the late 1800s and your character was a princess from another kingdom who was betrothed to the crown prince and the story tackles their romantic adventure and how they learn to love each other unconditionally.

pretty much like a regular romance movie with a twist of history, you did not mind, and you’d gladly play the part of a princess even if it was just for a movie.

you did not think much of it until you were told by the director that the leading man – the man playing the role of the prince – was malleus draconia himself. you could not respond for a few seconds due to shock, which worried the director, but you reassured him everything is alright, and you’d gladly work with him.

upon arriving at the set, you greeted malleus with a smile, and he gave you a polite one in return. filming the first scene was great and no mistakes were made. you had everything under control, or so you hoped.

once the first romance scene came, you tried to keep clam as you stood by the desk as malleus approached you, his tall figure towering over you as he spoke in a deep tone, “…if you have any qualms about marrying me, speak now.”

“what…?” you spoke, memorizing your lines.

“once you sign the marriage contract, there is no going back. i want to make sure both of our kingdoms will be in a stable condition, so i want to prevent any case of annulment or divorce. if you have any doubts, now is your chance to back out and we can both pretend this transaction never existed,” replied malleus as he spoke out his lines word for word all to a tee.

‘he’s so incredible… his eyes look lovely up close… his eyelashes are pretty long, too… ah, wait… my line!’

“u-um… i have no doubts. i’ll marry you.”

it was not your intention to stutter as you spoke your lines, but the director did not seem to mind it as he let the scene continue. you two continued to shoot the other scenes and you had one last scene to film for the day before you could go back to your home to rest then come back again the next day for the next filming session.

“okay, this is the last scene for the day. picture’s up! annnd… action!” spoke the assistant director as the camera started rolling and you and malleus immediately went into character.

malleus wrapped his arms around your waist as he held you close. your cheeks were red but you tried to tone down your flustered state as he whispered, “shall we?” you nodded as he held your hand and started dancing with you. the current setting of the scene was in a ballroom and you were dolled up in a ballgown, dancing around the set with malleus as music played through the speakers.

at the moment, it seemed like everything else did not matter. you forgot that you were acting out a scene, you forgot that you were an actress, you forgot that you were merely playing a role with malleus in this movie. all you could see was the way his eyes scanned your figure as he held your hand in a tight but not painful manner, as he settled his hand on your waist and eventually moved them across your back to pull you closer to him.

your feet moved on their own as you danced across the ballroom studio with malleus, looking deep into his eyes. time stood still and all you knew was the handsome man in front of you, dressed in a princely attire and holding you close to him.

it seemed even he noticed your trance and smirked a little as he whispered, “did i take your breath away?”

you snapped out of your thoughts, wondering why he said that when it wasn’t a part of the script, but you did not care. you gave him a bashful smile as your cheeks went rosy once more, “you could say that…”

once the music stopped, his touch immediately parted away from your skin, making you frown a little, but you did not want to make it obvious. you two gave each other a respectful bow and the director immediately cut the scene.

you sighed in relief and smiled at malleus, thanking him for the wonderful performance and complimenting his acting. “you did great today…” you spoke, albeit still a little bashful. malleus smiled and thanked you for your kindness before returning the same compliment, “thank you. you were as wonderful as you have always been, miss f/n.”

meanwhile, the director and the assistant director glanced at one another with knowing smiles before looking back at the cameraman, giving them a thumbs-up as if to confirm that the camera was still rolling and intended to include the tape in the behind-the-scenes.

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lolitasweetenoughtoeat · 5 months

Photo

#angelic pretty #sweet lolita #lolita fashion #jfashion #cute fashion #kawaii fashion #wonder patisserie #kawaii #cute

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koenigami · 4 months

Text

synopsis: that one time you accidentally lost ushijima in a mall on christmas. tags: fem!reader, fluff a/n: helloww sweet @ohtokki, your secret santa here! wishing you a wonderful time with your family and friends!<33 i really hope you like this little something i wrote for you and ushiwaka^^ it's actually my first time writing for him so i hope it's not too ooc ehe..

Like in a crammed can of sardines, people tried to navigate through the crowded streets and stores. Some of them looked for last minute gifts while others enjoyed the mesmerising decorations and lights ornamenting the city that seemed even brighter and more vivid once dusk fell. Watching some of the people rush down the halls of the mall you were currently strolling through, arms packed with packages and bags, wide and frantic eyes glancing from one shop window to another, you were more than relieved that Ushijima and you belonged to the second category of people.

“Wow, good thing we bought everything at - " Losing a nearly 6’4 tall boyfriend was hard. "Toshi?" But not impossible.

Especially in a crowded place like this one. With a deep sigh, you looked around, hopefully trying to spot Ushijima somewhere in your proximity though apparently it was not going to be that simple. A young man accidentally bumped into you. The pink gift bag he was carrying slipped out of his hand, though with a hectic hand gesture he managed to grasp it before it touched the floor. “I’m so sorry, Miss!” The teenager blushed and quickly bowed his head before scurrying off.

Meanwhile somewhere in the same mall, Ushijima paced from one shop entrance to another, curiously peeking over other customers’ heads, shoulders slumping every time he did not spot you. The “E” in the corner of his phone display mocked him when he pulled it out of the pocket of his jacket, and it seemed like no store nearby offered free wifi for him to at least send you a quick message.

Of course he could have anticipated that the shopping centre would be this packed today, though when you had asked him to accompany you to get your favourite dessert from the patisserie that was supposed to be somewhere around here, Ushijima had not been able to decline.

A soft tug on his pants pulled his attention away from his phone, and instead of a bright screen, he was gazing into big, teary eyes as a little girl shyly stared up at him, her height barely reaching up to his thigh. “Um, you’re ‘Shijima-san, right?” Had he not crouched down to her height, he would have probably not even been able to hear her question over the loud Christmas music that all of a sudden started playing in the background.

“Yes.” He nodded, somehow not finding it in him to correct her mispronunciation of his name, and instead patiently waited for her to continue. “My Nii-chan always says you’re the coolest so- uh, will you help me find him and mommy?” There was a light shake in her small, gloved hands as she played with one of her dark pigtails, the glittery red bows in them sparkling with every movement of her head.

A curt nod of his was enough to make the little girl smile as if he had just now shown her the entire world, and once he picked her up like she weighed nothing to place her on his shoulders, he indeed did show her an entirely different kind of world. Ushijima’s hands swallowed her much smaller ones, making sure that she was safely positioned and holding on tight. So this is what a giant’s view looks like, she thought, completely in awe about how she could truly see everything and everyone from up there.

“Where was the last time you have been with your mom and brother?” He inquired and looked around for… not exactly sure who. A panicked looking mother? A similarly frantic looking boy? While at the same time trying to catch a glimpse of you amidst the people moving past him.

“We wanted to buy cupcakes!” Her little legs dangled excitedly down the volleyball player’s borad shoulders while she explained that her mom was planning to buy mentioned cupcakes for her fourth birthday. “But then poof! Nii-chan and mommy were gone.” She gestured with her hands as if they had disappeared into thin air.

Poof, huh? Sounded pretty familiar to him when he thought about how you were one minute walking right beside him and the next-

The phone in his pocket vibrated, and Ushijima carefully fished it out with one hand while the other made sure the girl on his shoulders would not fall over.

“Hello? Toshi, where are you?” The sound of your voice eased the tension in his shoulders and he did not dare to budge from the spot that, thank god, provided him with some decent signal.

The little girl on his shoulders involuntarily eavesdropped on the giant’s conversation since, with whoever he was talking to, the small gentle smile on his face made it obvious that talking to them made him clearly happy.

“I’m on my way to the patisserie. There’s this girl I just met and she-”

“But we have just been there? And what girl?” It was not a rare occurrence for Ushijima to get held up by fans, yet right now you really just wanted to get home as soon as possible. The crowded space and your missing boyfriend were slowly but surely getting to you and tiring you out so much that you could not help but sound a little snappy over the phone. Whatever fangirl he was dealing right now, he better-

“Love, she’s four.”

"Huh?" Oh.

You loosened the woollen scarf around your neck once you heard your boyfriend’s breathy chuckle on the other end of the line, a light heat creeping up your neck out of sheer embarrassment. Manoeuvring your way through the slowly dissipating crowd, you listened attentively to Ushijima as he explained the little girl’s predicament as well as his current location to you. Since it seemed that you were not too far away from them, you agreed on meeting them at a flower shop in front of which they were currently standing.

“Was that your girlfriend?” The little girl asked curiously once Ushijima hung up, both his hands now securely resting back on her thighs. “Did she also get lost?”

“You could say it like that. But she’ll get here soon and then we will go to look for your family together, alright?”

“Yes! Thank you, Shijima-san!” She exclaimed gratefully, her arms wrapping around his neck in a tight hug that made his heart swell. Remembering that she was now even taller than the giant himself, she figured that she could help him too find someone dear to him. “So, what does she look like?”

“Hm? Well, she’s wearing a long coat, a thick white scarf, she has long brown-”

“Is she pretty?”

Ushijima was a little taken aback by her question, since she made it sound as if an answer to it would be more helpful to pinpoint you than a detailed description of your appearance. Yet with a deep sigh and significant warmth in his eyes, he answered truthfully. “Yes, very so.”

And somehow, as if satisfied with his answer, the little girl quietly looked ahead of herself and rested her chin on top of his head. With each passing minute, the mall got emptier, customers wrapped up their purchases before leaving, cash registers in certain shops looked less busy, and even an employee who was wearing a santa costume looked like he had finished his shift as he walked past Ushijima, waving kindly at the girl who happily reciprocated the gesture.

“There!” The girl suddenly perked up after noticing a young woman hurry towards them with a fond smile on her face.

And how could you not smile when the sight of your lover with such a sweet looking young girl perched on top of his shoulders was so endearing to you. You approached them finally and reached up to greet the girl with a light squeeze to her calf.

“I see you’ve made yourself comfortable over there. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Chiyo!” She answered with a bright toothy grin before she fervently started to tell you about how she had gotten lost and found "Shijima-san".

Eventually, you made yourself on the way to the patisserie where you hoped to find Chiyo’s mother and brother, since it was the only place where you could get fresh pastries at this time of the day. By the way she clung to Ushijima, you could tell that she had warmed up to him pretty fast, and the same could be said about him. He looked so effortlessly handsome as he carried the child in a way that you would think he had never done anything else in his life. In a way that made you wonder what it would be like to have your own little gremlin sit on top of him and call him a “giant”.

Warmth suddenly engulfed your left hand, and his rare physical display of affection astonished you a slightest bit. But as he squeezed your hand gently, his thumb stroking the back of it back and forth, he simply stated matter-of-factly.

“Don’t want to lose you again.”

Right, Mr. Shijima, you thought knowingly. Admitting that your short lived disappearance had made him feel uncomfortable and that going through the same dilemma would probably make him age a few months more- that was definitely not something he was going to admit today.

However, when he had to put Chiyo back down and watch her run over to her Nii-chan, who coincidentally was the same young man who had earlier bumped into you, Ushijima had to admit that he was a little dejected about the fact that his adventure with the little girl was over so soon.

#fun fact #the dude dressed up as santa is hanamaki bc that's the only job he could get #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu ushijima #hq ushijima

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hwaightme · 1 year

Text

Avaritia

THIS IS 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI FOR CAPTAIN'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist)

⚫ pairing: ceo/sugar daddy!hongjoong x assistant/afab!reader ⚫ genre: smut... just smut really ⚫ summary: everything has a price, but sugar makes this truth so much sweeter. no matter what he says, hongjoong will buy that new purse for you, will flaunt you in front of his business partners, and will make sure you know you are his. ⚫ wordcount: 8.3k ⚫ warnings/tags: MINORS DNI, tried to edit - lost it - bon appetit, language, teasing, on a flight, a lot of money, wealth, first world, brand name dropping harder than San in the logs, hj is a sweetheart, mc is needy but in denial, full avarice mode lmk if anything else, nsfw tags and playlist rec under the cut ⚫ taglist: @doom-fics @layzfeelit @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo ⚫ network tags: @k-labels @ateezlovenet @kflixnet ⚫ a/n: Sometimes, I am calm. Other times (read 'all the time) I am getting wrecked by everyone in ATEEZ. Here is what Balmain Joong did to me. Any comments, reblogs much loved; we spiraled into madness (hail sucrose pop, glucose father joong lol)

⚫ nsfw tags: daddy/baby girl dynamic, sugar daddy, reader is a 'doll', soft dom!hj (literally cannot stay mad at mc), overstimulation (seriously what is hj doing to mc...), fingering, mile high club, blowjob, deepthroating, dacryphilia, possessiveness, dirty talk, sex on a desk, unprotected sex (wrap that before you tap that) ⚫ playlist recs: Five Star Hotels by RAYE | Sugar Daddy by Qveen Herby | SAD GIRLZ LUV MONEY Remix by Amaarae | Greed by Shreea Kaul | Mile High by Salina Killa | Do I Move You? by Nina Simone | Money Power Glory by Lana Del Rey

Why was it that when real business was being discussed, the location of choice was always the most extravagant, exotic, luxurious oasis? Everything about the resort screamed unaffordable. 'Exclusive' written in blood on the pristine white sands, only to be washed away by azure blue waves to colour sea foam you could swear was whipped up in a divine patisserie. A perverse flavour inaccessible to the majority but driving the decisions that ruled the world. It was challenging to not become partial to the taboo indulgence when it was handed to you on a silver platter together with a tailor-made career. Anyone would need to acclimatise to what most considered a distant fantasy, but a few flights on a private jet later did wonders in curing the delirium of the average and introducing an insatiable materialism.

Thus, you were not particularly bothered when your boss requested you book another retreat to a private resort in the middle of the ocean - considering the business's cash flow and offshore 'pocket money', this was not too different from your routine trip to the cafe down the street to get his 'coffee' - more sugar than caffeine but this was a secret that you were to keep to the grave; it was written in small print on your contract. It was easy to book when you just needed to send out a few messages to staff and drop a name to any external service people at the right time. Their reaction, stuttering and need for clarification never failed to be amusing; even the most outrageous demands gained appeal once the won, euro, dollars, whatever they wanted from the global wallet, began to stack up. Green bills, green trees - in a twisted way, these boys who liked to play the role of the all-seeing and all mighty were farmers too. And fruits of their labour were always the sweetest.

Sure, you worked hard and had your own path that you could have followed. Even had a degree to prove that you had at least an ounce of dedication. But what would it give you, in fact, what did it give you before your renaissance? Crumbs. Sheer crumbs, student debt and a chronic migraine. But as it turned out, a couple hundred k did wonders when it came to personal health and wellbeing. And on top of that, the myriad of other benefits that your current lifestyle had, had the ability to crush any argument and accusation hurled in your direction, of which you had many. You had figured out soon enough that diamonds were your real best friend, while those who you had considered your ride or die evaporated as soon as they saw you wearing designer. And that had been when the best you could ask for was old collections, and widely available products. You were not lonely. You had too many hats to wear, and a very demanding man, by the name of Kim Hongjoong, to entertain. And one who currently had his eyebrows furrowed, a couple of unruly strands of hair perking up out of his otherwise slick business ‘do, glasses barely holding onto the tip of his beautifully sculpted nose, and was leafing through the papers he had asked you to prepare for the duration of the flight.

For the CEO of a global company, and the heir to an even larger network, he sure as hell was incredibly young. You did not envy his turmoil and exposure to stress one bit, almost feeling sorry and in part guilty, since percentages of his spendings were technically lost on you. There had even been instances when you found yourself sat in a dark room, laptop screen aglow and on a blank page, with you wondering how one crafted a resignation paper. But once you and Hongjoong could have even a couple of moments alone, when he would ravish you, make and call you his and reveal to you all the things he had planned that could not be reflected on his calendar, that document would be promptly deleted and recycle bin emptied. Your ‘relationship’ had been this way since the one meeting, in his main office, on a bright and early morning.

He had called you up into his office and simply told you that he had another ‘job opportunity’ for you. At that point you had been desperate, with financial problems endlessly piling up, from debt to your family’s hospital fees to bailing your estranged brother out of prison. And to make things unethical – Hongjoong had known this. He had done his research – more specifically, he had asked some colleagues in his company, ones who you would never suspect, to snoop around and find out more about you. And as it turned out, you were the perfect candidate for ‘being treated right’ by him, while bearing the title and carrying out the formal façade of secretary and personal assistant duties. In his practice, as well as his father’s and partners’, this was probably the most stable relationship they would ever get in life, so might as well be picky.

Initially, you had simply become a receiver of gifts. Pretending like this was Hongjoong’s love language, you were touched and did not think much of it. Maybe through these purchases he was moving money in ways it should not be moved, but you could not care less – not your problem, not your area of expertise, you had the outcome, and the outcome was something like a crocodile leather bag or a dress fresh off the runway. Hongjoong had insisted on picking every single item out for you, letting his controlling executive side win over. He had explained that you had to look like ‘the prettiest doll in the world’ for him, and for that he needed to check for quality. After a couple of months, however, such sugary sweet presents had been reserved for special occasions, and for the rest, money was wired directly to a new, account, a platinum card he had opened for you and given you. To just step into the consultation room with his portfolio manager and private banking consultant had felt like you were cheating existence. You had been a lowly assistant to an assistant before. And now, decked out in Dior, were sat beside one of the most influential men in the modern era of this industry, letting him hand you eye-watering sums as if it was a couple of coins for a pack of gum.

Now, well, now you were conflicted. As months had turned into a year and were now approaching the two-year mark if you could remember correctly, your ‘relationship’ had started to feel more and more like a real one. Hongjoong had caught himself divulging details of experiences that he had never spoken about with anyone before. And nowadays, when you had sex, it felt less like a mindless fuck and more like making love, with the man expressing more than he ever could with every hot touch, press of his lips to yours, even his lustful intensity had gained a new colour. You could feel that he was confused, but would not dare let go of you – you knew that he put your name down on some very important documents, after all. As such, it was a rare but unbelievable pleasure to push Hongjoong’s buttons and get him all riled up for you, just so he could expel that pressure and that tension from a busy work day out on you. You were that caring of a personal assistant. And wanted him to keep on talking. Keep on telling you his deepest darkest secrets. You wanted to be a part of him, the hedonistic side, the one that seized the day and knew how to enjoy the earthly realm without counting and fighting.

For the flight to the resort and extended series of meetings with key business partners, you had chosen to wear an outfit that you knew Hongjoong was unravelled by. It was a black and white Prada poplin mini dress that did wonders to accentuate your curves and edges, and was paired with some classic, black leather, So Kate Louboutin heels and gold accessories to match the dainty little buttons on the dress. Really, this was dress number two since the last one had been quite literally torn off you by none other than your boss, but he did not want to ruin the night and as such, had promised to contact the house of fashion itself to get an exact replica of the limited edition garment. And this man kept his promises. But right now, even though you were sat in the private office in his jet, with the bodyguards safely outside, lounging and doing whatever bodyguards did to occupy themselves, he was not paying attention to you at all. Only winding himself up more with those compiled quarterly reports that you were now regretting having finalised them and bringing them at all. What was the worst that you would have gotten had you not done the task? A spanking? Oh, how scary… you have had it rougher on a casual and uneventful day. Now you needed to get creative to get his attention, and being needy would not do. So very slowly, gazing out of the window at the clouds your were drifting past, you crossed your legs, revealing the legendary red bottoms of the heels you were wearing, and reached for the notebook and pen that were just peeking out of your handbag. Unbeknownst to you, you already had his attention with your abrupt change of pattern. Normally you would be on your phone, or typing away on your laptop, even remaining idle would be more characteristic, so Hongjoong’s interest was piqued by the little planner that contained all your thoughts and actions. He slouched back in his seat, and raised he papers a little higher, so that he could steal glances at you more discreetly.

You were paying no mind to what your boss was up to, preoccupied by the cream pages and the visualisation of the figure in front of you, but in your mind. Sometimes, when work was slow, you had taken to doodling random people around the office, as well as sketching out a variety of landscapes that took your fancy. Though the main subject was always Hongjoong. You had gotten quite good at picturing his facial features and depicting them even in a few lines, catching his micro expressions and shift in body language. There were also a couple of drawings you had done with him as a live model, though he was asleep and in the nude, so no one was ever going to know about that – you had stashed them away in a safe hidden behind the drawers of your desk. It only made sense that he was in most of your drawings: after all, he was the man who had bestowed upon you such unimaginable riches and a quality of life so drastically improved, that you had no choice but to worship him. He had made you who you were now. A shining diamond.

And this shining diamond was a little too bright for him to keep on focusing on the profit and loss analysis. After about ten minutes of frustrating silence, he dropped the papers onto the table in front of him and leaned to put his elbows on its edge. You had still not raised your eyes at him – something that you normally did nearly on instinct since you were so in tune with his gestures, which made Hongjoong inhale aggressively. His previously neutral expression had turned into a scowl as he raised an eyebrow and gave you a onceover. His precious doll was up to something.

“What are you doing?” though the question was simple, his voice was dangerously low. But you could not be threatened by a good time. You kept your eyes trained on the page as your hand moved methodically to hatching the shadows of his, as of not too long ago, brilliant blond locks, ones you adored to run your hands through whenever you had the chance. Which was a rare occurrence outside of the ‘bedroom’, but still.

“Just noting some things down, Mister Kim.” Though he had insisted that you call him Hongjoong when you two were alone, it had been a challenging transition to get used to. But at least it gave you ample opportunity for… discouraging him further. He liked for everything to run like a well-oiled machine, with his eyes reading a business strategy in anything and anyone. You had no doubt that that was how he was scrutinising you now. Equal parts assessing the attitude and doting on you.

He was a sweetheart treating his favourite toy. Talking competitive analysis and takeovers in the morning, and clinking glasses with you at an exclusive Michelin star restaurant in the evening. And to think that you were the only one, aside from his family, who got to see more than one side of him was an intriguing notion. Actually, scratch that. Certain things you were sure to be the only one taking care of. Take his nasty habit of overworking, which you had called out even if it was just you feeling bored: all work and no play made Hongjoong a dull boy, and thus, less likely to compensate for your presently aimless sitting around.

“By colouring the entire page? Not good to lie to me, you know that.” Of course. When it came to matters of business, for example, this man had ears everywhere, had infiltrated every other competitor and had become a spider in the corporate world. He would probably find out someone was cheating on their spouse sooner than the spouse themselves. When it came to you, however, he did not have your intricate neural network mapped out just yet. He could only fluff up his feathers and put on airs.

“It is only ink, Mister Kim. And surely the ink to paper ratio is not more than the balance sheet on page twenty seven.” You purposefully moved away from his interrogation, subliminally reprimanding him from stopping his concentration. The ghost of a smirk was gracing your lips, hidden by hair that had fallen to perfectly frame your delicate facial features. Hongjoong still had not corrected you on using his ‘work title’.

“I should ask you to start drawing the spreadsheets out by hand then.”

“Maybe next time, as a special treat. In the meantime, we have what we have and must settle for it.” A lot more standoffish than usual, you were brushing your boss off as you continued the sketch. He could not exactly reprimand you, however. You were right in the fact that his suggestion was nothing more than white noise.

“Settle for less, Y/N?” the question rang loudly in your ears and translated itself to a reminder to know your place fairly quickly. You could imagine Hongjoong’s raised eyebrow and playful grin. In addition to him hinting at your arrangements, he switched to calling out your first name. Promising.

There was a customary mention of money and class even when it was not the main topic of conversation. Really, it was what had brought you two together, or rather the stark difference between what you and him had, respectively. Hongjoong enjoyed having financial control over you and ended up dangling it above your head in the form of his not so subtle first-world conduct. You preferred to imagine that it was him wrapping you up in the softest, silkiest Chanel ribbon, like the one you had seen in adverts and on the packaging that, alone, could have probably provided you with enough food to last a week in your life before.

It was not that Hongjoong did not try to ‘stay humble’. Based on your observations, out of all his financial peers, company clients and members of the executive board, he was probably the least likely to boast about the figures that his numerous bank accounts contained. It was possible that when the strings of digits began to look more like a phone number, one grew more tranquil. Money spoke louder than words. But you knew how to make Hongjoong get vocal. Or so you thought.

“More is never enough.”

“Having more takes a lot of work and being on your best behaviour, Y/N.” he may not know all of your thoughts and reasoning but knew that you got extra charming when you became needy. Trying so hard to get his attention that you would invest all your efforts into it. It was only fair after how much he had invested in you.

The Tiffany & Co necklace on your neck that he traced with his gaze was nothing more than a collar, a leash tethering you to him. An Elsa Peretti piece, a golden snake which had cost Hongjoong just under thirty million Korean won, was perhaps the best way to symbolise the chokehold you were beginning to have on him. You were there in business, there in pleasure, and he was contemplating preventing you from taking holidays unless they somehow involved him. It would be easy – just block all of your cards and you would come crawling. He was greedy for your reactions. The way your lip would curl when he would put somebody back in their place during a conference or a meeting. How you enjoyed it when he praised you for completing the challenging, soul-draining tasks that never ceased to pile up – he had never failed to continue scrutinising you through the glass walls of his office as you excitedly returned to your desk, a soft smile always on your face. How you were completely at his mercy when he wanted to give you an extra special present. He loved how the jewellery he had gifted you or sponsored for you to buy rocked back and forth as he took his time to take you apart. Piece by piece. His priceless game.

Hongjoong smoothed his lapels and adjusted his cotton jacket that he had bought in the colour warm khaki, tightening the knot of the wrap belt. Smugly, he took note of how your pretty, made up lips parted. What were you imagining he was doing now? He was not going to care, at least not right away. He demonstratively picked up the reports again, flipping through the bounded pages on autopilot as, what he could only decipher to be a disappointed gasp, reached his ears. It was a relief that the paper hid his growing smirk. Mister Kim was work-mode Hongjoong, after all. What did you expect?

Ignored and rejected, so be it. You knew this interaction well enough to be able to count, down to the minute, when Hongjoong would crack, or you would crack and still come sauntering over. He liked to be needed – the main reason why he had agreed to become the heir to the corporation in the first place, more than you liked to be needy. But sometimes, you were a little too impatient for your own liking – probably a side effect of having been transferred to a silver spoon lifestyle after experiencing hardship after hardship. As such, the dynamic between you and Hongjoong was a constant battle. You could almost taste his pride as he inspected the figures you had compiled for him, a lazy hand moving to adjust the collar of his white turtleneck. Through fluttering eyelashes, you feasted on the dangerously handsome man, determining that he really did look astonishingly captivating in Balmain.

It was frustrating, this ongoing game that you two played and would not quit despite the effect that it very obviously had on all parties involved, but much like with the drugs that made the occasional special appearance in the closed VIP-only events, it was too addictive. Even now, you knew that you should not pay attention to Hongjoong, but your eyes were not obeying you in the slightest. Over the time you had come to intimately know this man, if there was one thing you knew for certain, it was that he had an aura. An enigmatic charm, a magnetism that was so subtle to anyone who you now had the ability and first world clarity of deeming 'average' was unlikely to detect. However, before you knew it, upon locking eyes with Hongjoong, listening to his dulcet tone that would turn to orchestrate the music in your mind, you began to fall hard and fast into the abyss that was his power and control, trapped and even if you wanted out, forgetting the words. Once you fell in, the only words that mattered were the ones that he deemed to be so, and they were so heavily contextual and dependent on his mood that, usually, you did not dare oppose it.

It was fascinating to you how time seemed to pass differently when there was a price associated with it. Be it Hongjoong's net worth or what he was wiring into your accounts, it did not matter. What mattered was the bills that bound you together like the lace of your lingerie, one which was growing tighter around your body by the second as you kept on openly devouring Hongjoong with each shameless gaze, the thoughts cropping up because of the ghost of a smirk that he was wearing only fanning the flame. He was illegal. In all senses. No man should have the right to have such an influence over you as he did, and yet here you were. Working the role of his personal toy, so dedicated that you were on the verge of begging for him to play with you. You needed him. As much as you hated to admit it, since you still did want to retain at least a tiny portion of independence, this man had given you more than what you could ever wish for. Riches, connections, diamonds, sex. And you could not get enough, happily driven to madness by the immense pleasure of being a capricious diva with infantile demands for all the world's sweetness. Or, as your brother had put it, perhaps out of a sick gratitude to you for helping him getting at least a part of his life back on track, before you blocked him for good, you were getting off on being a pampered, prissy sugar baby. Though you saw no issue with simply doing what you were good at, and you still completed your regular duties as a personal assistant. It was just that your 'personal' was a little different from the commonly accepted corporate average. And the business that you carried out in the after hours was not just classified – when you had been faced with the decision of whether to agree to enter such a relationship with Hongjoong or not, you had naively placed your life at stake. That was the level at which you had to operate. But the thrill that it gave you, more than justified it.

Your internal clock was ticking away like a time bomb as you grew more and more frustrated, while Hongjoong, in a manner not too far from that of a cat’s, gave a soft yawn and made himself more comfortable in his chair, spreading his legs further apart under his desk and leaning back to continue his reading. Deciding that he had enough of having to repeatedly push his glasses up, he decisively took them off, and slowly folded them together, holding one of the temple tips very lightly with his lips. In a graceful motion, Hongjoong set them down to his right, beside a couple of pens. You recalled speaking with the designer over the phone, ordering for them to be customised and getting shipped over from the US in record time, and while you were not exactly sure as to why they were so important, the key stakeholders in the company had raved about them on multiple occasions, much to your boss’s delight.

You could feel that he was well aware of your present sensations, and purposefully was not acting on them, just to see you squirm. This was only making you more fixated on getting his attention, which you tried to do by letting out another soft sigh, quickly realising that if you were to get anything out of him, you had to be more rash, and act on instinct. In other words, act out of line. Taking the moment he dived back into the report as an opportunity, you rose from the couch, and slipped out of your high heels while keeping your eyes trained on your boss. A barely noticeable twitch of the eyebrow and you were struggling to fight off a smirk, feeling every bit seductive even though it was most probably a vision of your own design. But a little confidence did not hurt.

This time, you did not make a sound as you slowly moved towards Hongjoong’s desk in a straight line, using your strength to keep your adrenaline-ruined breathing as level as physically possible, and your steps measured out as the plane rumbled beneath you. Head and body in the clouds. All because of the heavenly ruin who was paying no mind to how you rested the tips of your fingers on the edge of the desk, before lowering yourself onto your knees and dropping into a languid crawl. As you inched past his lacquered black boots, and soon found yourself right between his legs, you could see Hongjoong stiffen, but resist the urge of responding to your bold movements. This only played to your advantage, as you let your hands rest on his denim-clad thighs before snaking up to tug on his coat’s belt, loosening it until the material gave way and exposed the waistline of his jeans.

Even as you, with practiced, methodical motions, undid his jeans, he did not spare you as much as a pat on the top of your head, like he usually did when you were being his ‘good girl’. The only sign he gave of his awareness of you was the obviously hardening member that your hands purposefully grazed as you attempted to pull the denim a little further down to give you better access. When the jeans, or rather, their wearer, did not budge to allow you to take them off, you growled in annoyance and gave up trying to be gentle, instead wanting nothing more but attention, not from Mister Kim, not from your boss, but from Hongjoong. From Joongie. From your one and only daddy.

Said man was resisting every urge to yank you from under the desk and to punish you for being such a vixen, but it was clear to him that his disregard of your efforts might just be more painful – a realisation that did little to subdue his arousal. It made him acutely aware of your nimble hand finding the cut in his Armani briefs, and pulling out his erection, giving it a few pumps at the base with your fingers. The sudden caress had made him buck his hips forward, encouraging you to continue admiring his length and running your fingers up and down, not a single bit escaping your touch. He gripped the papers in his hands until they began to get crumpled at the edges, and eventually dropped them to lean back and get a view of the scene unfolding at his feet. All just to catch you as you licked your lips, revealing a thick coating of spit, moved towards his dick, and while keeping it steady with one hand, ran your wet tongue from the base to the very tip, parting with a lewd twirl over the head. Hongjoong bit back a hiss as he locked eyes with yours, half-lidded – you knew all his sensitivities, his pressure points and guilty pleasures, and that was infinitely dangerous for a man like him to share, it only made you more attractive. You had memorised him as if he was your assignment. Your most important test and duty. Never leaving your mind and driving you to insanity as you drifted from wave to wave of uncontrollable desire for him, and him alone. You were his. And you looked so pretty, a queen all made up and dressed in gorgeous rare pieces, kneeling before him and taking in his member between your soft lips. Deeper. Deeper, until he could feel your hot inner cheeks, the back of your tongue and how a rumble emanated from you as you hummed in satisfaction, the vibration forcing Hongjoong to tilt his head back and sigh.

You were greedy for Hongjoong, moving yourself at a slow pace to take in as much of him as you could, hands finding themselves clinging onto the legs of his jeans for support, and to allow you to try your best and continue devour him without his guidance. As you moved away for a couple of seconds to catch your breath, a salacious pop announcing the temporary loss of contact, you noticed a string of what you could only guess to be your saliva, mixed with his pre-cum hanging between his member and your progressively more swollen lips. Once again, you took the throbbing member in your hand and were about to resume its worship, when a strong grip of your hair, nails momentarily sinking into your scalp, alerted you and made your gaze shoot upwards. The sight made you cower, though the thrilling trepidation fuelled your yearning for the glowering man.

There was a demonic quality in how he stared down at you, every bit of the expression demeaning you and demanding your ruin. You knew you had overstepped by disobeying him and taking intimate matters into your own hands, but who could blame you when he was so breath-taking when wearing his favourite brand? When you lowered your eyes he tugged on your locks, sneering.

“Baby girl could not even wait until we landed, huh?” his dulcet tone dropped into a rough drawl as he could feel your breaths washing over the tip of his sensitive dick that was begging for you to finish what you had started.

“I couldn’t.” you purred, batting your eyelashes.

“And so, you resort to being naughty? Do you think that is the right thing to do, especially when I say that I am working, hm?” he was hooking the answers out of you, one of his eyebrows twitching in surprise as you did not respond immediately. He tightened his hold and made your head fall further back so that you were completely face to face, his member pressing against your cheek.

“It isn’t, daddy, but I couldn’t help myself. You just looked so pretty that I could not resist.”

“And I think you are being incredibly selfish, Y/N. Spinning these tales just so you can satisfy yourself.”

“No daddy, I want to make you feel good!” you insisted, a whine escaping you as you could feel your core beginning to grow warmer with the progressing conversation. Pressing your thighs tightly together, you relished at the friction, and bit your lower lip.

“Is that so?” he mused out loud, waiting for your to attempt to utter even a single word more.

“Yes Da-mmfph!” taking the chance, he pushed you right in, his member hitting the back of your throat, the impact making tears spring up. As you struggled against him, he held you in place and watched as you tried to adjust to him. Just as unexpectedly, he yanked you back, leaving your lips to kiss his tip, only to drag you down once more and thrust his hips once, twice against you until he could see the wetness in your eyes building until it was about to spill over.

“You said you wanted to make daddy feel good, yes?” he asked, lust clouding his brain as you mumbled utter nonsense, mouth pacified by the hard erection, “then do exactly as I say, baby girl.”

This was exactly what you missed. Hongjoong coaxing every unholy state out of you, sin setting you ablaze as you began to fail in registering the nuances of this demeanour, tears that were on the verge of rolling down your cheeks blurring your vision. This was how you pinched yourself for grounding, to assure that the lifestyle you had, the gifts which you had been bestowed with were all real and all yours. You did not search for forgiveness when the forbidden fruit was so damn sweet. So, you let yourself be used like an expensive escort by him, comforted by the thought that even though he could definitely afford having anyone else, he had selected you. And let you stick by him for almost two years. A true sweetheart who knew how to treat his girl right. You moaned into the pressure as the low grunts you elicited from Hongjoong let to the climbing of heat in your core. With the abuse of your throat becoming a rhythmic orchestration, you grew brave enough to improvise, and hollowed out your cheeks.

"Ah... fuck, baby girl..." the airy proclamation escaped him as your teeth just barely grazed his member, and he could feel his high building at an accelerated pace. He resisted your bobbing to catch a few seconds' break by pressing you to his hips, barely giving you a chance to breathe. But he knew you would take it. You always did.

Hongjoong's ragged breathing was sending you into overdrive, and you shut your eyes to allow yourself to focus on the lewd music. Barely audible over the jet engines, the loss of control was his primary expression of gratitude. The illusion that he was not, in certain senses, under your heel rapidly evaporated when the adrenaline shot him through the heart, and his frontal lobe shut down to give up the reins to carnal pleasure. Once the barriers disappeared, his one desire and need were clear. You. The one thing in his life that he would never be able to truly own, and as you unwounded him, he comprehended with an unprecedented lucidity. That was why, as you sensed his hold on you loosen and his orgasm inching closer than ever, and were about to give him the sweet release, Hongjoong snapped back to consciousness and nearly ripped you away from himself, your head barely missing the drawers under the desk.

With flushed cheeks and an adorable, innocent pout, you looked up at him, dribble accumulated at the corners of your mouth. He fell for this face every time. Your glistening eyes studying him as you appeared disappointed that you could not get daddy to cum, afraid that you made him mad. That you did something wrong. Oh, how far from the truth this was. Even though you had acted selfishly, and approached him on your own accord, nothing about you could be anything less than right. Right just for him. It was as if the heavens themselves had moulded you to fit him like a glove. Body and soul. And he will be a fool if he did not indulge in that every opportunity he had.

Taking both your hands in his, Hongjoong helped you up from under his desk, careful to not damage your dress - not that he cared for the price, but it was not particularly enjoyable contemplating the conversation you might have to have with dry cleaning. Or with the designers. Again. It was troublesome striking deals with strangers to keep their mouths shut. He rolled back on his chair, taking in your trembling form. Holding your legs together you were fighting your ache for stimulation, knowing full well that your panties were already ruined with your slick and were only serving as a fabric made for rubbing your sensitive clit. Every breath, every sigh from Hongjoong as he took off his jacket and carefully hanged it on the back of his chair, then fully undid his jeans and pushed down his underwear, was a reason for you to start begging. Couldn't he see how anxious for touch his little toy was? Evidently not, for Hongjoong took his sweet time with removing your dress, every button like a special prize that he wanted to cherish, while you were growing hazy as he peppered kiss after kiss with every new inch of exposed skin, crouching down to let the sensation build lower, feeding the knot in your stomach. His pecks stopped just about when he reached your navel and with a lazy smile on his face, he stood up to gaze into your soul with an unbelievable intensity. Hands running up your body, Hongjoong slid the magnificent article off you, hastily draping it over one of the chair's arm rests and not once glancing away from his favourite sight, a sultry oasis, within reach, and so beautifully hungry for him. He stopped your arms from resting on his sweater, muttering that you would mar it with your lusty filth, and rushed to take it off and throw it behind him. Then, there was no barrier for him anymore, and in one motion, his pelvis was against yours, member resting against your black lace-clad heat, and hands kneading your ass, moving closer and closer until they began to toy with the g-string the action turning to torture as he purposefully made the material dig into your pussy, enjoying how you threw your head back and bit back a groan.

"Please daddy, I need you..." you whispered as he increased the friction and proceeded to move his dick in and out between your full, closed thighs, teasing your erect nub until you writhed to seek even more proximity. This, however, earned you a sharp smack on your ass, the lack of anticipation making it sting. Hongjoong did not give you time to recover as he let the pins and needles work their magic and elevate your reception of his steady thrusts. You tried to grab onto him, the table, anything, but as soon as your fingers touched Hongjoong's chest, another hit echoed in your ears, eliciting a frustrated moan.

"You want to... make... daddy really happy and cum... right?" He panted, his nails digging into your flesh so violently that you could not help but wonder if Hongjoong was going to draw blood, but that brief musing only elevated your pleasure. “Then, you are going to be my pretty little fuck doll… understood?” there was only one right answer to the question, and you were not about to get on Hongjoong’s bad side by being a brat. You were too fazed to put up a fight, and merely mumbled a soundless:

“Yes… daddy…”

Hongjoong leaned closer to you, until his forehead was almost touching yours, and moved to wipe some of the lipstick and remnants of his precum from your lips with his thumb, while his other hand hooked the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down to reveal your wet core. You wriggled to let them fall and kicked them away with an impatient foot, earning a chuckle.

“So eager, baby girl… I almost want to forgive you for not listening to me. I just said you are to be a doll,” he peered into your eyes, his breath hot on your mouth as he ran his fingers between your folds, covering them in your slick. It was adorable how you tried your best to keep up appearances even now, even when you had signed yourself away to be what effectively was his servant. You trembled as the cool metal of the ring on his index finger hit your clit, and exhaled shallowly as he played with you, “and dolls don’t move, do they? Can you do that?”

As he asked, his fingers curled into your pussy, while a thumb traced rhythmic circles over the nub, the sensation electric, building your high. The lasciviousness flashing in your pupils as your eyes rolled back was a cry to Hongjoong’s darkness. Hands suspended in mid-air, you did not dare act out nor attempt to navigate the intimate act, submitting to your boss, your daddy. Letting him take care of you. As he sped up, watching your face contort as you battled the approaching climax, Hongjoong found you endearing, the corners of his mouth twitching as a soft, radiant smile surfaced. He could never stay cruel with you for too long. He was giving you more than you could ask for, and yet, he still wanted to give you more. Everything would not be enough.

“Oh, my baby girl, are you close?” he inquired, cooing as your breathing quickened in response to his accelerated pumps into your wetness, wild from the addictive sound it produced. “Fine, you can hold onto me, Y/N, daddy will take care of you,” you did not need to be told twice, falling into him as your orgasm was imminent, “doing so well for me, baby girl…” he whispered into your ear, kissing the lobe and pulling you into an embrace as he felt your high wash over you, your sex pulsing around him and muscles contracting uncontrollably. Brushing your hair back, petting it a couple of times before settling on having a hand rest between your shoulder blades, he praised you. But did not stop. Greed went both ways.

Your prior filters completely broken, you moaned and whined as you kept on unravelling, Hongjoong’s fingers abusing your overstimulated cunt. With his toned body, and your ass pressed against the edge of the desk serving as your only support, you draped your arms over his shoulders and wrapped yourself around his neck, rationality leaving with every tremor. As you could feel another scalding fire building in your abdomen, just before the release Hongjoong removed his hand and instead took to gliding his dick against your pussy lips. With the sensation being too much, you yelped and sank into an orgasm, sweet nectar dripping onto, and coating his cock.

“Such a good girl for me, well done… Come on my dick baby girl.”

You were not sure when, due to the fog that enveloped your fucked out mind, but Hongjoong had made you lie on your back on his wooden desk, surrounded by the financial reports he could not be bothered to clear. He wanted you now, and that meant no pauses. Without as much as a warning, the blonde gave you one final teasing flick with his tip before bottoming out, the fullness making you gasp. Your walls were still clenching around him from your climax, which made Hongjoong growl as he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him, spreading your legs further apart.

“So perfect for me, Y/N… only mine…”

He mercilessly pounded into you, chasing his own high while you were seeing stars. When you were like this, under him, hair cascading onto and off the mahogany, knuckles turning white as your grasped onto the desk as he thrusted, you were the closest thing to heaven that he could believe in. In a world that was drenched in materialistic attraction, sabotage in the name of another stack, and human lives turning into corporate statistics to improve key performance indicators, this was an ethereal madness that unlocked a primal bliss, untainted by present crises. The sweetest distraction, you took him so well that he liked to pretend that you had been made just for this. Just to become his possession. His gorgeous doll.

With you, Hongjoong had begun to see purpose in his riches, being able to play dress up with you, making the office a private cat walk as you strutted in the latest collections and custom made pieces. Gucci, Versace, Prada… it did not matter to him so long as you were wearing it with the intentions of impressing him, seducing him, and only him. He was fully aware that, technically, you could be dating someone else alongside your so-called partnership with Hongjoong. As a sugar baby you could even have another ‘sponsor’ out there somewhere. Another person to make you cum, to provide you with a sensual paradise. But the notion sent him into an inexplicable rage as soon as he entertained it, and as such, he preferred to isolate visions of you from the rest of the world. In turn, this manifested itself into his real life attempts to do the same. Longer hours spent after work, an unspoken rule that the assistant should not leave until the boss does. Michelin star restaurants and exclusive rooftop bars to lure you into being in his company. And of course, sex. Or making love. However, one wished to call it when the lines began to get blurry. But Hongjoong could not care less. You made him comfortable. You were his, you had to be, otherwise what did the two years mean?

Skin against skin, breath joining breath, sight clouding, going dark. Hongjoong rolled his hips, and lowered himself to a stance where he was hovering directly above you, his piercing gaze not once leaving you. Getting drunk off every moan and gasp that he was the cause of, he relished in the feeling of your pussy taking him so well, the orgasm that he had not allowed you to ride out still making your walls clench repeatedly around his dick, pleading for his intimate, salacious demise. His thrusts got deeper as he slowed the pace, progressively losing his senses to the speeding high.

“Mm… baby girl you are… fucking priceless…” he uttered, words broken apart by each time he bottomed out in you, his balls pressing against your wetness as you could only let out a series of mewls in response, thoughts unintelligible as the repeated hits to your g-spot brought you closer and closer to total destruction.

“Daddy… please, I’m-”

“Going to cum?” he finished your sentence as your try at speaking was interrupted by a wave of pleasure, mixing with the tension from before and making the tears spring up once again. You were a wreck, impaled by Hongjoong’s member as he returned to standing up in front of the desk, thrusts rapid, sharp and finally making a droplet roll down from the corner of your eye. You yelped:

“Hongjoong… ah this is…”

“Is it too much baby girl?” he asked, without any intention to stop as he could sense himself faltering at keeping up the act for any longer. His own climax was within reach, and he was not one to deny himself any pleasures.

“No, daddy, feels…. So ah… yes…” you mumbled, at least you thought you did, but could not confirm for certain.

“Pretty girl crying for me… so cute.” Praises spilled out of him as he groaned into the tightness, and, unsteady, removed himself from your cunt, letting out a low moan as rivulets of cum shoot out from his cock and onto your stomach.

The viscous white fluid decorating you was more than what he could ever hope for. The final marking that you were his to use, you were there to serve him, and he would never get enough. A light shake in his thighs forced him to seek balance in having a hand on either side of you, while his pulsing dick rubbed against your inner thigh.

“So pretty, Y/N. Just for me.” He stated, more to himself, and lowered himself further to give you a soft peck on the lips, which quickly deepened as you responded with an elated sigh. In these moments, you wondered if it was money that you were doing this for.

As he moved away, and with practiced motions began to clean you up with some tissues which you had in your bag, you regained full ability of inhale… count… exhale, and in the clarity, drifted to a post-coital contemplation. Hongjoong knew how to make you do what he wanted you to do. But did he know you? Could he confidently paint the portrait of your desires beyond financial and sexual gain? A man made of sugar, with an alluring physique and a kindness which he showed only to you, but should he be your only one? This thought had been plaguing you ever since last month. An unexpected, shattering appearance of a business card, that was now hidden behind a card you rarely used in your wallet, with gold embossed lettering and an otherwise minimalist design. Tasteful, exclusive, expensive. When you checked the names of those attending the meet on the island, the object had grown considerably heavier, weighing onto your consciousness. Discreetly given to you amidst a kiss of the hand and the reception of a smouldering gaze, it served a similar purpose to a number at an auction. The person whose name the card bore had announced himself as a bidder for your attention and services, a bidder astronomically higher than Kim Hongjoong, at that. It was tempting. Very tempting. And you knew that the conversation would occur at some point during your stay, seeing as even in the business setting, the man would undoubtedly be sat across from you, and would stare you down, right to the avarice festering in your heart wrapped up in designer. But you were caught in a dilemma.

Your eyes travelled back to the graceful form tending to you, forgetting about himself, at least until his baby girl was well cared for. A sweet angel, his face finally rid of tenseness and agitation as his entire focus was on your body, on you. The one who, unknowingly to himself, had shown you unprecedented vulnerability and, endearingly, trusted you much more than he ever should have. A man who walked on people and money, yet wanted a woman who could play with his heart.

It was not that simple anymore, was it? After so many doses, could you give this up? Give up and betray Hongjoong in search for a stronger hit?

What was it that you were truly greedy for?

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alienguts · 8 months

Text

Kintsugi (Bruce Wayne x f!Reader)

Summary: Bruce takes Y/N out for lunch to make up for his moping.

Warnings: mild angst, mentions of breakups, feelings and shit

Request?: sort of, a few people asked for a sequel so here we are

A/N: I haven't been writing a whole lot recently because I had a lot of work and study related things to do, but that's now over and I have a five day weekend ahead of me so I can finally get things done!

1 - Picking Up the Pieces | 2 - Kintsugi | 3 - Stay with Me

Bruce had lost track of how many times he’d looked at his watch in the past hour while sitting alone in the cafe. Y/N did say that she would be running late, but he didn’t think she meant this late. He decided to wait another twenty minutes before texting to see where she was.

Is this what being stood up feels like? Bruce wondered, thinking back to the numerous times he’d skipped out on meetings and dates for other commitments. His mind couldn’t help but drift back to the times he’d stood Y/N up for other commitments, whether that was work at Wayne Enterprises, the Batsignal, or another woman.

Guilt washed over him as he remembered how disappointed she’d been when he turned down her offers to hang out, not noticing when she was in need of a friend or for him to be more than a friend. He’d never realised how lonely she was and had always tried to push the sad look in her eyes from his mind, but he’d been so blinded by love - no, lust, desperation - to see that she was the one who’d supported him this whole time, who truly understood him and knew what his soul looked like.

He was just about to leave when the door clicked open and a rush of footsteps approached him. Bruce looked up from his phone, about to text Y/N when he saw her standing in front of her, her hair a mess from the wind and her shoulders shuddering with each breath.

“I tried to get here as fast as I could,” she said between pants. “There was an accident a few blocks down so I had to take a detour.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Bruce said, smiling softly as he stood up to greet her. “I’ve been late for everything so it gives me a taste of my own medicine.”

Y/N let out a huge sigh of relief and took the chair across the table from Bruce, sinking into it as her muscles relaxed again. She briefly looked around at their surroundings, feeling a little out of place in the cafe Bruce had picked. She was used to frequenting diners and Starbucks rather than the grand patisseries that Bruce could afford.

“I already ordered for us,” Bruce said, snapping her out of her thoughts. “If that’s okay.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Y/N said, smiling at him. “You always know what I like anyway.”

His heart fluttered when she smiled at him. It felt like something that had been missing his whole life but had been there the whole time.

If only he hadn’t been so foolish not to see it.

Their lunch date was just like old times: two old friends talking about how their lives had been and what they were planning to do later on in the week. It was as if they’d never been apart, as if Bruce had never taken Y/N’s friendship for granted. He’d pretty much forgotten about the events of the night before and he’d almost forgotten about Selina. Almost.

That wound in his heart wasn’t likely to heal any time soon, and rushing into something with Y/N wouldn’t be fair for her. He needed time to grieve the relationship and piling all of that onto her would be a bad start to a new relationship. Especially one with his oldest and best friend.

“Y/N,” he started after an extended quiet moment. “I wanted to apologise to you.”

“What for?” Y/N asked, stopping as she reached for her cup.

“For taking you for granted for all this time.”

Y/N shot him a confused look. “I’m not sure I understand,” she said.

“Every time I went through a rough patch in a relationship or a breakup, I would always come running to you for comfort,” Bruce said, keeping eye contact with her so she could see how sincere he was. “But I never did the same for you. Whenever you needed someone to be there for you, I wasn’t.”

“Maybe I didn’t need someone to be there for me,” Y/N said. “I know how busy you are.”

“Yes, but a true friend would drop everything for a friend who needs them. And I’m sorry that I was never there for you.”

“Bruce, you don’t have to be sorry for anything, I understand why you can’t always be around whenever I’m moping.”

“But I should be,” Bruce said, drawing the attention of some of the other diners around them. “I should be there for you because you’re always there for me. I feel like I’ve taken advantage of you and I don’t want to keep doing that.”

“I don’t want you to either,” Y/N said, her voice quiet as she looked down at the table. “I cried so much when you left last night. I felt like I was stuck in this endless loop of you breaking up with someone and coming to cry on my shoulder before going off to the next one.”

And I want to be the next one, she stopped herself from saying. Her throat felt thick like she’d swallowed a spoonful of molasses and couldn’t get it to go down. She wanted to tell Bruce how she felt about him, but not right in the middle of a cafe and not when he’d just been left at the altar. It would probably eat her up inside until she felt the time was right, but she’d endure it. Even if that meant waiting years for Bruce to be ready to love again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling her back to the room with him. “I’m sorry I put you through that. I want to be a better friend to you and I’m going to be a better friend.”

When Y/N didn’t respond, Bruce excused himself from the table to pay for the cheque. A single tear spilt from her eye once he was far away enough for her to not notice and was quickly wiped away with a napkin. This wasn’t how she had hoped the afternoon to go, and she was sure it wasn’t how Bruce wanted it to go either. After making sure she didn’t look like she was on the verge of tears, she gathered her things and joined Bruce at the counter who was ready to go.

“You feeling okay?” he asked when she approached him. She just nodded in reply. “We should get going.”

Bruce drove Y/N home and walked her up to her apartment, keeping close to her every step. His fingers brushed against hers occasionally, sending sparks up his arm and making his body run warm. They walked up the stairs to her floor in silence, the sound of their footsteps the only sound until they reached Y/N’s apartment and she fished her keys out of her pocket.

“Lunch didn’t end the way we’d hoped, huh?” Bruce said, trying to lighten the mood. “I really am sorry. About yesterday. And today.”

“It’s okay,” Y/N said. “You’ve been hurt, you probably haven’t been thinking clearly.”

“Thanks for understanding, Y/N,” he said with a smile.

“Thanks for lunch,” she said in response before stepping forward to hug him.

Bruce eagerly accepted her hug, wrapping his strong arms around her tightly and resting his cheek on the top of her head. He breathed in the scent of her shampoo and the perfume that he knew she always dabbed behind her ears and let himself relax into her body. Hugging Y/N felt natural to him, but for some reason, it felt even more natural now. Like she was home and was welcoming him back to her after being away for so long.

Without thinking, he shifted his head to softly kiss the top of her head and let his lips linger before she moved away from him. She looked at him wide-eyed, hoping he wouldn’t misinterpret her response before letting her gaze move down to his lips. Her chest rose and fell as her heartbeat sped up and Bruce moved one of his hands from her back to her face, brushing the backs of his fingers against her cheek and moving to gently hold her jaw. Just as he leaned his face into hers, her eyes fluttered closed and her lips parted, waiting for him to make contact.

She felt his forehead against hers first, then his nose brush against hers before he softly captured her lips. Her heart skipped a beat before she relaxed into him, returning his kiss. It was gentle and chaste, but exactly what she’d wanted for years. And all it took was the man she’d loved her whole life getting left at the altar by her rival in love.

The kiss was over just as soon as it had begun. Bruce had pulled away from her just enough to still feel his breath on her skin, his hands still on her but full of restless energy. She knew he would have to go but she just wanted one more minute of feeling like he was hers.

“I should get going now,” Bruce said, his voice soft and quiet. “Alfred will be wondering why I’m taking so long.”

“It’s okay,” Y/N said as she let him move away from her. “Um, we should do this again soon.”

No, it’s too soon, Y/N, she told herself.

“Y’know, when you’re ready, of course,” she added quickly. Bruce smiled at her and took her hand.

“I’ll always make time for you,” he said warmly. “I told you, I want to make up the past ten years to you.”

“I’d like that,” she said as she opened her apartment door behind her and slowly backed into it. “So, see you soon?”

“See you soon,” Bruce said and watched her go before making his way down the hall and stairs and back to his car.

Once the door had closed, Y/N again slid down against it, this time in triumph rather than sorrow. It was too early to know for sure, but she knew that she didn’t have to live in dread of Bruce blowing her off for some other fling again. She finally knew what it was like to be close to him, to have him kiss her, even if it was so briefly. Her fingers drifted up to her lip, still tingling from his kiss as if she couldn’t believe that it had happened. But it had, and hopefully, it would happen many more times in the future.

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