ā¢ synopsis: when your daughter starts kindergarten at the quirky all-girls school across town, you form an alliance with the only other solo parent in her class: hot single dad miya osamu. what ensues is a year's worth of chaos ā and a love you didn't think you deserved.
ā¢ what to expect: friends-to-lovers, slice of life, found family, tooth-rotting fluff, occasional angst, mentions of absent parents, any 18+ nsfw content will be tagged!
ā¢ how to read: each installment stands on its own, but there's an ongoing story that unfolds if you read it chronologically!
ā¢ listen while you read: ufo, better than, worth it
ā¢ status: in progress!
1. lunch boxes
ā¢ when you get a call from your daughter's teacher that a classmate ate her lunch, you're determined to give the parents a piece of your mind ā only to meet hot single dad miya osamu instead.
2. bake sale
ā¢ at your first pta meeting of the school year, osamu ropes you into running the fall bake sale with him.
3. on the house
ā¢ osamu treats you to lunch at onigiri miya ā and grows determined to change your half-hearted relationship with food.
4. bug fair
ā¢ osamu finds out about his daughter's school project the night before it's due. in a rare moment of panic, he calls you for backup.
5. pick-up lines
ā¢ you meet osamu's twin in the pick-up line of your daughter's school.
6. stage fright
ā¢ osamu comforts your daughter before her first music recital of the school year.
ā¢ osamu notices you're having an off day and wants nothing more than to comfort you. the only problem? you're both chaperoning the kindergarten field trip.
...stay tuned for more!
please note: there is no taglist for this series! i wish i had time to maintain one, but alas, adulting is hard. feel free to turn on post notifications for my blog instead!
Canāt stop thinking about a jondami social media/streamers AU type thing. Jon has always posted on social media a lot, and when heās in high school, he winds up making a YouTube channel where he plays video games. Of course, Damian is in most of these videos since they play video games together.
People obviously know that heās Damian Wayne and are fascinated by him being on some random guyās YouTube channel since heās such a private person. Damian doesnāt even really have any social media, only Instagram where he posts occasionally about his animals and any charities he wants to raise awareness for.
To add to it, Damian seems almost nice (?) to Jon. He insults him a lot, sure, but itās clearly playful. Everyone has seen videos of Damian threatening the paparazzi or arguing with his siblings, so they know heās usually a lot rougher around the edges. Itās weird to see this side of him.
Over the years, Jonās channel gets into other stuff too. Random social media challenges and vlogging and whatever else he decides he wants to do.
Without fail, Damian is almost always in these videos, and people start noticing just how close they are.
It becomes a full fledged conspiracy theory and there are these āproofā videos about them secretly dating. Theyāre all just clips from Jonās channel of them staring at each other with heart eyes, or being a little too touchy, or the camera cutting at a weird point. It also doesnāt help that theyāre both in college at this point, which means videos of them at parties together acting way too friendly start to circulate as well.
Damian and Jon never deny the allegations, but they never confirm them either. They really just donāt pay any attention to them and just keep doing what theyāre doing.
Eventually, this all comes to a head when Jonās live-streaming one day and Damian stumbles into the frame looking like he just woke up (he did, even though itās like 5 pm, because the Bats are practically nocturnal), not wearing a shirt, and clear as day says ābeloved, who are you talking to? Come back to bed.ā
Jon cuts the livestream, but itās too late. Practically the entire world knows theyāre dating now. Not that either of them particularly care, they just didnāt find it necessary to tell anyone they were together except for their friends and families.
A few days later, they wind up making a video confirming that they are, in fact, dating and have been for a couple of years now. The internet loses its shit, but nothing really changes with the videos Jon and Damian post (except for the occasional kiss on-screen, of course).
It starts with Tim scolding Bart and Kon after a mission. After a couple years with YJ, Konās come to the realization that he actually likes being yelled at. Not in a kinky way, but. Sort of.
He doesnāt mind if Tim is actually angry at him, as long as his attention is on him, he doesnāt care what for.
Kon tests this out, naturally. He purposely messes up a simple task and finds that he enjoys Timās disappointment lmao. He also attempts to flirt with random people around Tim and likes the stare boring into the back of his head. He does something reckless and ends up getting hurt on a mission. Kon realises he doesnāt actually like Timās look of hurt. Tim is sad because Kon was hurt and he looks at him like he almost lost him. Kon decides he doesnāt want to get hurt again (at least, in front of Tim).
Tim pulls Kon aside for a conversation. He asks whatās been going on with Kon lately. After a bit of poking, Kon admits that heās been wanting Timās attention on him. He doesnāt stop there, though. He keeps going about Timās eyes and him in general and how amazing he is.
The other one in the room is speechless.
Tim: āare youā¦ confessing right now?ā
Kon: āā¦I, oh. I guess I am?ā
Tim: āā¦ā
They get together and Kon is now not afraid to ask for attention. Heh.
It starts with Tim scolding Bart and Kon after a mission. After a couple years with YJ, Konās come to the realization that he actually likes being yelled at. Not in a kinky way, but. Sort of.
He doesnāt mind if Tim is actually angry at him, as long as his attention is on him, he doesnāt care what for.
Kon tests this out, naturally. He purposely messes up a simple task and finds that he enjoys Timās disappointment lmao. He also attempts to flirt with random people around Tim and likes the stare boring into the back of his head. He does something reckless and ends up getting hurt on a mission. Kon realises he doesnāt actually like Timās look of hurt. Tim is sad because Kon was hurt and he looks at him like he almost lost him. Kon decides he doesnāt want to get hurt again (at least, in front of Tim).
Tim pulls Kon aside for a conversation. He asks whatās been going on with Kon lately. After a bit of poking, Kon admits that heās been wanting Timās attention on him. He doesnāt stop there, though. He keeps going about Timās eyes and him in general and how amazing he is.
The other one in the room is speechless.
Tim: āare youā¦ confessing right now?ā
Kon: āā¦I, oh. I guess I am?ā
Tim: āā¦ā
They get together and Kon is now not afraid to ask for attention. Heh.
What if Tim and Konās first interaction was a little more different. Cue in touch deprived Kon.
Superboy spots Robin from a distance, and is immediately interested. He lifts Tim up excitedly, and smiles at whatever reaction Tim makes. After struggling a bit, Tim basically realises the meta isnāt trying anything, but is just interested in him. Tim eventually smiles back, and Kon changes his position to hold Tim bridal style.
āHey there.ā The clone says, tilting his head at Tim.
Tim smiles again, and also tilts his head. āHello, Superboy.ā
They end up going to wherever they need to be going, and they finish their job. After that, Superboy is by Timās side immediately, just trailing along. Itās like he wants something. Tim waits but he doesnāt get an answer, and he soon figures out that Superboy is too shy to ask whatever he wants. Robin smiles at Superboy, which earns him a light blush.
āWhatās up, Superboy?ā He asks.
Superboy doesnāt deem him with a response and instead just holds out his hand. Tim, puzzled, reaches out for the hand. They end up holding hands and the clone seems to be very content with whatever theyāre doing. He ends up examining Robinās hand, with the glove on by the way, and feels it.
āWhy do you wear gloves?ā Superboy asks eventually.
āTo preserve my identity, and to make everything a lot easier with crime fighting.ā Tim responds.
Superboy nods along. He does it for a couple more minutes until he hesitantly retreats his hand.
āCan you.. hug me?ā The guy asks eventually, and Tim doesnāt question it. He hugs the meta immediately and feels Superboy melt into the embrace.
After that first meeting, Tim comes to the conclusion that the new kryptonian is touch-deprived.
Since then, Superboy shows up randomly, finding Tim wherever he was, whenever. Tim finds it a bit creepy, but accepts it. He only shows up to ask for a hug or a pet on the head, anyway. Soon they get closer, and they talk, becoming eventually friends. The two of them are more touchy than usual friends, thatās only because Kon is touched starved. Whenever Superboy finds Tim, he leads them somewhere nice and quiet, like a rooftop, and wraps his arms around the vigilante. They always stay where they are for at least twenty minutes. ļæ¼
āI got a name, by the way. Superman named me. Kon-El.ā
Tim smiles. āKon is a great name for you.ā
Kon blushes.
The rest is history!! Can we tell I love touch starved Kon.
I like the idea of Kon not knowing any social cues when he first came out of the labs. He would know about human interaction, but not really understand it. Mainly timkon just saying.
Kon: *sees Tim for the first time ever*
Also Kon: *finds him gorgeous so picks him up by the fucking shin*
Tim: what the fuck.
Kon: So, whatās your name?
ā
(Once the YJ trio was formed)
Kon: Rob, hey. Are you joining us?
Tim: Yeah, I was just going to pop in for a little bit.
Kon: *pats his lap* sit here!
Tim:
Bart:
Tim: *looks at Bart*
Bart: *holds his hands up in surrender*
Bart: I think heās being serious
Kon: *still waiting expectantly*
ā
Kon: *enters the base with a ton of bags*
Kon: Hey, Rob!
Tim: Hello, Kon. What did you buy?
Kon: I got some clothes that I thought would look good on you, a toy that reminded me of you, some books I thought you might like, andā
Tim: Hold up. All that is for me?
Kon: *tilts his head*
Kon: Yeah, thatās why I went! I wanted to shop for you.
Tim: *dying*
ā
Tim: Okay, why do you keep holding me like that?
Kon: *hands currently around Timās waist*
Kon: Like what?
Cassie: They are so gay.
ā
Tim: *to the group*
Tim: For the last time, me and Kon are not dating!
Kon: Weāre not?
Tim:
Tim: when have we ever established our relationship?
Kon: I thought we started dating 3 years ago!
Tim: That was. When we met.
Kon: Yeah, I thought I made it clear I was into you. You didnāt oppose or anything, you know!
Kon absolutely loving kisses from Tim and Tim only.
It started with their first kiss, when the two of them were just āmessing aroundā. Konās kissed other people before, but never really with a man before. So when they kiss, Kon feels warm and the kiss just seems right.
They move on.
Kon tries to, anyway. He used to be a player and all that, he would hit on the people he found hot, but the thing is he doesnāt find people hot anymore. He does, but he just doesnāt really want to do anything with them. A certain domino masked person pops into mind. Itās like whenever he tries to go back to the women he kissed it doesnāt feel right at all.
They never really kiss again, though.
When Kon is dying, his last thought is āI shouldāve kissed him more.ā
When he comes back, he is immediately flustered by his last thoughts, and he has to stop ignoring his feelings. He feels romantic attraction to Tim, and he is sort of determined to tell him.
Tim beat him to it though, he confesses to Connor as soon as they meet up privately. He tells him he doesnāt want to wait anymore, and he knows how dangerous the line of work is, but heās willing to risk it. Kon couldnāt be happier.
They kiss on that random rooftop in Gotham, and Kon thinks he feels fireworks and a warm feeling in his chest. Kon full on melts into the kiss, feeling sort of lightheaded and giddy.
When they break apart, he leans back in. Tim giggles, and tells him he needs to breathe. At that moment, he wishes breathing wasnāt a thing. He wishes he could keep going.
The lightheadedness doesnt go away, not really. He feels so happy to be near Tim, and Tim just absentmindedly strokes his hair.
From then on, they always kiss when they can. Usually itās Kon initiating it, but Tim doesnāt mind. Kon craves the kisses like he needs the sun.
When Tim goes on long missions, Kon always requires at least four kisses. When heās feeling happy, he kisses Tim. When heās sad, he kisses Tim.
Thinking of a Damian who rejects Jon the first time Jon confesses that he is in love with him, not because Damian doesn't feel the same but because love as a concept is so complicated to him.
His mother loves him, has always loved him, and yet caused his death at least once. His father loves him, but it's a relationship strained with constant miscommunication and differing priorities. Damian's parents loved each other, but are as likely to hurt each other as to help each other. Alfred loved Damian, but Damian still blames himself for his death. Dick loves him, but forgot him. Damian knows he is loved, but its never been simple or felt unconditional. Mostly, it's pain.
And in terms of romantic love, well, the first person to tell him she loved him romantically was being mind controlled. It was pain before it even started, and it's easy for him to think it's something he won't ever deserve.
Damian has had relationships since, of course, but its not been something as deep or as complicated as LOVE. So when Jon tells him he loves him, Damian asks to just remain friends. Friendships are simpler. Or at least, Damian can pretend they are.
(It doesn't last, of course, because Damian does love Jon in every way that matters, and it kills him to be the one to turn love into pain. So when Jon tells him again, after nearly dying, Damian accepts it. It still takes them a long time to find a version of love that fits both of them.)
I'm imagining a world where Damian's son Alfred exists, but there is some big calamity going on so Damian makes the decision to send him to himself in another universe to keep him safe.
Which works great, except the Damian Alfred ends up with is 15 years old not qualified to be a parent. He does, however, have a new appreciation for how freaked out his own father must have been when first presented with a strange kid calling themselves his son.
Damian does the DNA test, and Alfred really is his son. From another universe, of course, but still his son. It's a very weird thing to think about, because Damian is 15 and a virgin and should not have to think about children any time soon.
Alfred clings to him regardless. The kid is distraught about being sent away and what may be happening in his own universe, but his father told him he'll be safe with Damian, so he sticks close to him regardless of Bruce's and Dick's attempts to separate them for a bit for Damian's sake.
Weirdly, the only person that can coax Alfred away from Damian is Jon (who heard what was going on and of course needed to see Damian's son for himself). Alfred just runs up to him immediately and hugs him while crying, leaving all of them confused.
No one has asked who Alfred's other parent is, but if they didn't have a suspicion before, they definitely do now.
Bruce: Dami you will grow look at Jason he was the smallest boy ever and now heās taller than me. Just wait for your growth spurt.
Jason: ā¦
Tim:ā¦
Damian:ā¦
Dick:ā¦
Stephanie:ā¦
Cas: Bruce we are mostly adopted so I donāt think Jasonās growth spurt will happen to Damian
Bruce: Then why do you all look like me. Dick has my eyes, Jason has my face, Tim is a carbon copy just tiny, Duke has my height , Stephanie has my hair type, Cas has my nose, and Damian has my mothers eyes which are also Jasonās eyes and Dami also has my mouth
When the JL first forms and a few of the members invite Batman to a Fourth of July party, he tells them, āI canāt, Iām very busy with much more important things.ā
The much more important things in question? Getting back to his son and their new puppy Ace so he can grill hotdogs and hamburgers in the backyard, go swimming and watch Dick do a hundred different kinds of jumps into the pool as he shouts, āWatch this! Watch this!ā And then of course get the fire pit going when the sun sets so they can make sāmores and watch the fireworks. Before the fireworks are even over, Dick is wrapped in a pool towel on Bruceās lap, his cheeks and his shoulders pink and sun-kissed from being outside all day, and heās fast asleep. Meanwhile, Ace is snuggled up at Bruceās feet keeping guard of both of them.
Bruce absolutely adores it and he wouldnāt change it for anything.
ragebaiting older! boss! tsukishima until he fires fucks you
tags + tws ;; wc 4.8k , nsfw 18+, fem! reader, mentions of strokes, age gap (early twenties reader & late thirties tsukki), inappropriate workplace relationships, power dynamics, rough / angry sex, degradation, praise, vaginal, oral (fem receiving), spanking and fingering.
you're not sure when ragebaiting and purposefully agitating your boss at work became your new favourite pastime, but now you are afraid it might be the only thing getting you through your banal days as an assistant at the sendai city museum.
you were naive enough to think that working at a museum would be awesome; you'd get to see all the new exhibits early, set up them up and spend lots of time researching their history and finding new ones. but apparently that is not your job. instead, you get to do all the work that no one else wants to do ā organising files, managing bookings and everyone's favourite, doing the morning coffee run. yipee.
but what does add a little bit of spice to your otherwise painfully boring day, is annoying your boss ā tsukishima kei, the museum's head curator. he's an older guy, late thirties or early forties if you had to guess, and he's quite stern-looking. he wears a ironed white shirt and black trousers to work everyday, with black rectangle glasses.
he's such a character. constantly stressed out and so strict that you'd think he might drop dead from cardiac arrest if something were to ever go wrong. you'd be inclined to tell him that work really isn't serious, but from the chunky, expensive-looking watches and designer cologne he wears to work everyday, you reckon if you were getting paid as much as him, you'd act the same way.
he is extremely serious, though. he'll seldom have a laugh in the breakroom and he always looks at you like he's judging you for something. whenever you talk to him, he either responds curtly or he snaps at you for doing something wrong. everyone else at the museum thinks he's a dick, but you find him oddly endearing. especially as he's come to be the source of your amusement.
STRIKE ONE. you rush into his office with a drink carrier in both hands. setting them both down on the corner of his massive desk, you pick up one drink at a time and scan the exterior, as they are all labelled with the name of the colleague who ordered it. eventually, you find tsukishima's and slide it towards him with a bright smile.
"here you are, one large black coffee with two sugars." you hum, picking up the two drink carriers, about to leave his office. he only looks away from his monitor momentarily to flash you a tiny smile and quietly mutter, "thanks." he picks up the cup and brings it to his lips for a long sip.
"see you around." you sing, about to exit his office and deliver the other coffees, until you hear him call out behind you,
"erm, why is 'princess' written on my cup?"
you turn around to look at him, still wearing a smile even as he glares at you with a expression filled with a mix of disgust and suspicion. "oh, that's just the silly name i gave to the barista. they write it on the cup so i know whose drink belongs to who."
"right." he clicks his tongue, narrowed eyes glancing between you and his cup, "and is there a reason why you didn't use my actual name? or.. any other noun?"
you're left speechless for a moment. in all honesty, you weren't expecting him to call you out on it; you thought you'd be able to leave his office before he noticed, then point it out in the breakroom. defensively, you splutter, "it's just a bit of harmless fun and silliness, sir. no need to get so worked up about it. but if you are really upset by it, i'll give them your actual name next time i go, mkay?"
he opens his mouth. likely to rebuttal against your claim that he is getting 'worked up' or is 'upset', but before the words can even leave his mouth you swiftly close the door to his office with a perky, "see you later!"
and tsukishima is left irritated, drinking out of his princess cup.
STRIKE TWO. in typical assistant fashion, you eventually are left to deal with arranging meeting between tsukishima and whoever else ā whether that's curators from other museums or private buyers/sellers. recently, there's been one seller from overseas that he really wanted to meet with; he'd been trying for ages but apparently this guy must be really busy or something because it took tsukishima four months to even get a reply from the man himself, wherein the man said he'd be happy to meet, if he has time. then, tsukishima left you to iron out the specific details and nail down a time/date.
the door to his office swings open and you proudly beam at him while standing in the doorway. he's in the middle of reading a file on his desk, so he only briefly looks up at you over the rim of his glasses which have slid down his nose, "can i help you?"
"nope, but i can help you." you proclaim, meanwhile he doesn't even look up from his papers as he raises and eyebrow, urging you to continue. you do so, saying, "guess who managed to secure a date and venue for your meeting with... the important guy, whose name i forgot."
tsukishima visibly perks up from his chair, drops his pen in shock and locks eyes with you, and you swear for a millisecond, an emotion that could be perceived as joy lights up his face. "mr kim?!"
"yes, him!"
"excellent work." he gives you an approving nod, picking up his pen and resuming his work, "when is the meeting?"
"uh, well, he said he'd only meet with you if for when you okay, he would let you to."
tsukishima continues to nod, scanning the text in front of him, "right, forward me the emaā" he pauses, mind stuttering as he attempts to process what you said, "uh, sorry, could you repeat that for me?"
"he said he'd only meet with you if for when you okay, he would let you to."
you say it with such a rehearsed confidence that tsukishima sooner believes that he may be having a stroke than the idea that you might just be pranking him. "sorry," he clears his throat and straightens in his chair, "one more time, please."
"he said," you stress this time, "he'd only meet with you for when you okay, he would let you to."
now finally starting to catch on, his expression of befuddlement slowly begins to transform into one of annoyance, "that doesn't make any sense."
"yes, it does." you scoff, putting on a matching face of aggravation, "maybe you're just having a senior moment. here, i'll repeat it for you once more: he said he'd only meet with you for when you okay, he would let yā"
"that doesn't make any fucking sense! what're you even trying to say?" you snaps at you, and you open your mouth to say something that would piss him off even more, but at this point you are struggling to hide how amused you are by his reaction and a sly smile begins to tug at the corners of your lips, one that you try so hard to suppress but he notices anyway, and when he does he sighs, "get out of my office."
you nod, putting a hand over your mouth to muffle your snickering as you leave the office, closing the door behind you.
there's a moment of silence where tsukishima can hear the blood vessels in his forehead bulging, but you break it by popping your head into the room and stating, "i did actually get a meeting with the guy though. it's next friday at two o'clock at the plaza lunch spot. i'll forward you the details." and you just as hastily dip out.
at least one good thing came of that interaction, he tells himself.
STRIKE THREE. there's a knock at his door, but he's on his lunch break. everyone knows that he takes his lunch between 1.30 and 2.30 ā the same time it has been for the last 18 years ā and expressly asks no one to disturb him during this period, so who would be inconsiderate enough to knock on his door while he's eating his suā oh, of course.
the moment he realises who it is on the other side of the door, it creeps open and your head pokes in and proves his assumption to be correct.
he covers his mouth as he's still chewing on his sandwich, "i didn't say you could come in."
"but it's an emergency, sir!"
"what is it?" he quirks a brow. usually if someone interrupted his lunch with an 'emergency', he'd show a bit more concern but given that it's you and you once referred to a cologne he was wearing that you weren't particularly fond of as a 'nasal assault and biohazard', he has reason to believe that you're being hyperbolic.
another assumption proven correct as you explain, "someone brought in tuna and egg salad for lunch and now the breakroom reeks." your eyes squeeze shut, cringing as you recall the awful odour, "could i please eat lunch in here, with you?"
"that's a stuā" for second he forgets that he's your boss and he's only meant to use professional language, but he hastily catches himself, "that's a ridiculous complaint. just open a window." he takes another bite of his sandwich.
"but sir, it's such a foul smell, you don't understand." you continue to whine, leaning against the door, "and i wouldn't you like to have someone to talk to during your lunch break?"
"my office isn't for fraternising." he states bluntly, "anyway, if i let you eat in here, soon enough everyone will be eating there lunch in here."
"i highly doubt anyone else would volunteer to eat in your company." you chirp in such a sweet tone of voice that it takes tsukishima a few moments to compute how offensive that is, "even if they do, you can just tell them to politely get lost because i am the only employee who is tolerable enough to eat with you."
"i'm not sure how true that is." he contemplates, leaning back in his chair and catching a glimpse of the clock. more of his fleeting lunch hour was slipping away from him as he entertained his conversation. a part of him wanted to angrily assert himself and tell you that you weren't going to eat with him. but an even larger part of him was oddly endeared by you, even though he couldn't even begin to explain why.
regardless, he ought to end this conversation somehow. he gives you a once-over and lazily slides his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, sighing, "you're lucky you caught me in a good mood. sit." he motions to the chair across from him.
you smile, humming a "thank you." as you shuffle into the room and take a seat at the opposite side of his desk as instructed. once sat, you start to unwrap your lunch, "what's got you in such a good mood, anyway?"
"my lunch is quite good today." he explains, covering his mouth as he chews.
"cool, did your wife make it for you?" you ask, taking a bite of your own food.
"no, i'm unmarried. i made it myself." his tone softens slightly.
"right." you buzz, eyes scanning around his room. it dawns on you that you've never had a proper look around his office before. he has all sorts of books and chachkies on his bookshelves, as well as various diplomas, pictures and certificates in frames. most of them seemed to be academic or museum-related accolades, but one in particular stood out to you. hence, you ask, "who are the sendai frogs?" eyes narrowed, trying to read all the text on the certificate.
he follows your gaze until it falls upon the sole volleyball-related item he has displayed in his office. "that's the volleyball team i used to play for." he turns round in his chair to face you again.
"oh, volleyball. is that the sport you were into back when you were athletic?"
he chuckles at your poorly veiled jibe and attempt to get a rise out of him. instead, he plays along for a change, "yes. back when i was athletic, i'd play a lot of volleyball." his eyes fall on the desk, giving the appearance of absence as he reminisces on the fond memories, "that certificate is from when we won the v. league tournament."
"interesting." you nod along. as you do so, he opens a drawer on his desk and rummages around. this goes on until he finds a picture and slides it along to you. leaning forward to look at it, you see it's a slightly crumbled photo of an entire team of volleyball players lined up, all wearing a bright green and yellow uniform, likely the sendai frogs. and you become certain of this when you find a much younger version of your boss in this line-up, in the back row. "aww, is that you?"
"with my team, yes."
so he's always been deadpan-looking. good to know. "how long ago was this?"
he grimaces, "15 years ago, i think."
"you must've been around my age in this photo." you giggle, even harder when you watch his face fall into an unimpressed glare. he tries the slide the photo back over to himself, but you keep a hand on it, "how do i know this isn't ai?"
"ai?" he almost gasps.
"yeah, like, artificial intelligence." you knit your brows together, "it's when a neutral network is trained on data and learn how toā"
"i know what ai is; i'm not an idiot!" he snaps, snatching his photo back, "it's not that. it's a real picture." he insists.
"mm, i'm not so sure. i swear i saw one of the guys had seven fingers on one hand!" you smirk, trying to grab the photo back but he yanks his drawer open and shoves it back in there. "plus, i find it hard to believe you looked like that 15 years ago and you're still unmarried."
it's around now that he starts to realise that you're deliberately trying to get a rise out of him again; he's not sure how he keeps falling for it. regardless, he's left speechless by your two observations ā momentarily, at least. there's silence until he finishes chewing on his sandwich and swallows, "no one had seven fingers in that photo, firstly." he huffed, avoiding eye contact, "secondly, i appreciate your attempt at flattery."
"any time." you laugh, and so does he.
YOU'RE OUT. with your head resting on knuckles, you aimlessly type away on your keyboard ā next to you is stack of files you've been asked to digitise, so you're hours into typing them all up. there's a software that is meant to transcribe the text from a photo, but the majority of the papers were too crumbled or damaged for it to work. thus, you are left to do it manually in a hackneyed haze.
until you see a notification appear in the bottom corner of your screen. it's an email, from tsukishima. without thinking you immediately stop typing and click on it, bringing the email to full screen.
"SUBJECT: Performance Review.
Hi,
As you may know, it's protocol here at the Sendai City Museum that every member of staff undergoes an annual performance review, conducted by their supervisor. This is done to ensure that everyone is applying their best efforts to their roles and to address any qualms that staff may have.
I'm aware that you have not been employed here for over a year, thus usual procedure stipulates that you do not require a review yet. However, due to recent behaviours and concerns, I believe that an exception can be made in this instance.
I've set a meeting time for 6PM on Friday.
Regards, Tsukishima."
What the hell?
Over the last three days, basically ever since you received that email, you've been on your very best behaviour. You've not been irritating him or bothering him during his lunch hour, nor have you been giving pet names to the barista to put on his coffee. nothing of the sort; you've been the perfect employee ā keeping your head down and getting on with your assignments.
granted, being the perfect employee sucks and isn't entertaining whatsoever. but you didn't want to give your boss any more reasons to fire you.
truthfully, a part of you is incredibly shocked that this would even happen. up until now you thought that tsukishima was good humoured enough to understand that all the social transgression you committed were simply in jest. you thought that was the kinda dynamic going on; that he was terribly strict and rude but he'd make up for it by being secretly cool enough to overlook certain things that you did. evidently you misjudged that. turns out he's just strict and rude, with no redeeming qualities. being hot doesn't count as a redeeming quality.
it's whatever. hopefully you'll be able to weasel your way out of any disciplinary action by being sweet but even if you are fired, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world ā is what you tell yourself. this job is boring anyway, and it would be constructive for you to free yourself from the shackles of evil co-workers and rooms that smell like drywall and dust constantly.
so, when friday 6PM rolls around and everyone packs up and starts filtering out of the museum, you grab your staff and stroll towards tsukishima's office without a care in the world. well, maybe you cared a little, evidenced by the tremor in your knees and twitching of your eye. but largely, you didn't care!
you knock on the door and he summons you in, and you take a seat across from him, just like you did when you were eating lunch together. although atmosphere this time was far more intense. he's got a suit jacket on this time and you can smell his expensive, fresh cologne from across the desk. he has files in front of him but you can't read them because his computer is in the way.
"glad you came." he states monotonely, without looking up from the papers, "are you ready for your performance review?"
"no." you huff, crossing your arms over your chest, "you're just going to try come up with some reason to fire me, cos you're tired of me."
tsukishima stares at you wide-eyed, honestly he was not expecting you to be so upfront and confrontation about this. people in the professional world usually aren't. he clears his throat and replies, "true, i am tired of you. but i'm not looking for a reason to fire you. the work have done so far is decent, so i invited you here to give you the opportunity to apologise, promise you'll stop being an annoyance and then we could both move on."
"apologise?!" you snort, "why would i apologise? i've not done anything wrong."
"that so?" he quirks a brow, biting the inside of his mouth to stop himself from raising his voice, "what about the time you tricked me into thinking i was having a stroke?"
"i just said a few words out of order; stop being dramatic." you scoff, rolling your eyes, under the firm belief that nothing you've done so far could be classified as 'wrong'. just silly, vexing even.
"you disturbed me during my lunch break and said my certificate was fake." he sneers.
"how dare i disturb lord tsukishima during his sacred lunch hour. if that is such a blasphemous deed then feel free to exile me." you gawk, tone dripping with sarcasm and contempt, all while tsukishima glares daggers at you from across the desk. "also, i did not say your certificate was fake. i'm sure you did win that junior league volleyball tournament eons ago; i said the picture was fake, and we established i was only joking."
tsukishima's heart races. he's not been spoken to in much a manner by a subordinate since... ever. despite working here for over ten years, he still doesn't feel practised enough to know how to deal with this. but what he does know is that you are triggering the asshole in him, hence he stands up with his hands on his desk and commands down at you, with the intention of putting a quick end to this confrontation, "joking or not, you've been shockingly unprofessional these last couple weeks. now, quiet down or else i'll... uh, i'll"
he stumbles over his words. unsure if he should threaten to fire you or something more severe, and this decision results in him stumbling over his words ā a fatal error. this allows you the chance to stand up slowly from your chair, not quite getting on his level but still a intimidating display of fearlessness. you scowl up at him and ask, "or else you'll what?"
...
there's a pause. the seconds after that are a frenzy of limbs, heated kisses and hands where they don't belong. you never though this would be the boiling point of your uneasy relationship with your dickhead boss, but here you are; folded over his desk with your skirt hiked up to your waist, his papers all thrown to the floor and his computer shoved aside. "ngh, please.." you groan.
"this what you wanted?" he mutter harshly under his breath as he frantically undoes his zipper and pulls out his cock, smearing the head against your pleading lips, "all of this just to get my attention?" you moan out in reaction to his tip against your hot core and he takes his as a response, "well, you've got it now." he punctuates his sentence with a firm slap on your ass which makes you cry out even more.
from his big hands on your waist pinning you down, to his hot minty breath breathing down your neck, your already soaked for him by this point. his cockhead runs back and forth through your folds, simulating your needy heat until he finally dips his tip shallowly into your hole and growls, "need me to teach you how to fucking behave?"
"yes, sir." you mewl back, trying to buck back onto his dick but his arm is surprisingly strong and keeps you pinned right in place, any attempt you make to move back is futile.
he laugh at this and says, "that's what i thought." right before plunging into you, his lengthy shaft penetrating you and splitting you open on his desk. a staggered moan rips from your throat as this happens, but it's hardly a deterrent for tsukishima. "feeling sorry yet?"
"y-yeah." you stammer, eyes squeezed shut. his length is pushing against your insides, and you're barely able to fit him but he's crammed himself all the way in there, to the point were your folds are virtually kissing his base. you're unable to cope with the vast amount of pleasure and discomfort circling in your abdomen, you try to grab onto something but he has you laid out on his desk, tits pressed against the hard wood. you can't grab the smooth surface so fingers curl around the front edge of the desk.
"good. and i'm also sorry for what i'm about to do to this poor cunt." his voice drips with scorn. he kisses his fingers and uses them to lovingly massage and toy with your clit. giving you a few deceptively calm and sweet moments to cherish before he yanks his hand away and begins pounding into you from behind.
the force of his hips snapping into your ass causes your whole body to shake and rock on top of desk, his hands moving you to the natural rhythm and emphasisng your ass bouncing on his pelvis. "how's it feel, baby?" he grabs a handful of your ass, using that and your waist to keep you in place.
"guhā hahā good!" you squeal, eyes rolling back in your head from the intense euphoria of his cock repeatedly cramming itself into your sopping pussy. having to contort around his length each time brings you a sizzle of pain and satisfaction that it near constant.
"hurts?"
"y-yeah."
"good." he smirks, slapping your ass once more and basking the cute squeak you emit. "it's what you get for being a fucking brat."
"seriously." he gasps, losing momentum slightly but still got a fire in him, a desire to rearrange your insides and keep lashing into you until you've forgot your own name. "i've worked here for over a decade." his teeth grind together, cock starting to weep at being suffocated by your drenched pussy. "and i've never met a girl as insolent andā ahā tight, as you!"
you're not sure if that was meant to be an insult, either way you only feel more motivated to clamp down on him, and his eagerness to be inside you works against him as you swallow him up and he cums inside you, gripping your ass and waist as he fills you up with his seed. his nails dig into you so you're moan moaning all the way through his climax.
once he's done, he leans forward and grabs your hair, pulling you back into a rough arch so he can whisper in your ear, "learnt your lesson yet?" as he nears you, the aroma of sandalwood and citrus, mingled with his natural musk floods your senses. "still feel like being an annoyance, or does this slutty cunt need another round?"
although the proposition of another creampie is tempting, you do feel quite worn out. additionally, you feel like tsukishima definitely put his best effort into that so you should probably throw the old man a bone. "i've.. learned my lesson."
there's a beat of silence. tsukishima gently lets go of your hair and your heads rests back on the desk, as he straightens himself out. "hm," he clicks his tongue, pulling out of your soiled pussy with a lewd squelch, "i should probably make you come anyway, for good measure."
before you can even properly process what he said, his slender fingers latch back onto your poor clit. he's awfully cruel, rubbing and pinching and pulling the most pornographic moans from you. toes curling with ecstasy, your mind blurs in a haze of lust and you all but melt into the desk.
you're so lost in your horny trance that you almost choke on your own spit when replaces his fingers on your clit with tongue, "mm, delicious, sweetheart." he hums into your cunt, the vibrations sends a shiver down your spine. his lips work against your folds, then his tongue ventures deeper into your hole, although as the distance closes his glasses end up in the way. the cold surface against your warmth serves as a shock to your system and your eyes jolt open.
he briefly pulls away and removes them, noticing your juices on them and muttering, "crude slut." under his breath, but still loud enough for you to hear. mixed signals. you're not given a moment to ponder it though as he dives straight back into your cunt. he wraps an strong arm around your legs and licks stripes inside you, forcing the full length of his tongue inside your pussy.
due to his expert fingers stimulating your clit and the ceaseless movement of his tongue, it's not long before your hunched over the desk and screaming his name into the emptiness of the room. "please, pleaseā tsukishima! iā"
"shh, shh, baby." he urges, swiftly replacing his tongue with the fingers of his other hand and skillfully coaxing you through your orgasm, not allowing for even a momentary lull in the onslaught of pleasure. "almost there. let me take care of you."
you do as he says, fully submitted to his hand and just as promised, he guides you through your climax with ease. the concrete ball on your stomach dissolves into something much softer and your spasming walls fade in intensity. soon, you're laying breathless and completely fucked out on your boss' desk, pussy dripping onto the vinyl floor.
he gets up from his knees and composes himself up: zipping his fly, putting his glasses back on, tidying his hair and the like. then, he calmly saunter around to the front of his desk where you face is, and sit down in his chair. he smirks down at you, "that was relaxing. for me."
"something like that." you pant, resting your cheek on the wood.
"tired?"
"very."
"consider yourself lucky, then." he learns back in his chair, idly moving side to side, "had we done this 'back when i was athletic', you'd be worse off." he chuckles to himself, and you're too spent to laugh.
"so, am i fired?" you ask groggily.
"as long as you're not still laying with your legs spread come morning, no."
your eyes widen at this, "really?"
"if i fired you, you'd just go out and find some other old man to terrorise." he explains, meeting your weary gaze, "it's best you stay. at least i've figured out a way to deal with you."
