#bansal x reader

[mannkimansi]

Security Risk in Chiffon

Sushant Bansal x wife!oc

Summary : National security protocols stand no chance against a domestic breach in black chiffon.

Word count : ~600

A/N : soo … this my first ever writing , toh agar kuch upar neeche ho toh , have mercy , Baki toh … enjoyyyy !!!

Idea @zeherili-ankhein ki post se liye … hope aapko pasand aaye … aur do tell others !!!

The air in the corner office was thick with the smell of old paper and the hum of the server racks, the IB office was quiet, the kind of silence that usually meant Deputy Director of the IB , Sushant Bansal was burying himself in a crisis.

He was leaning over his desk, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tie loosened , a rare sight for a man who usually looked like he was born in a three-piece suit. He was hunched over a spreadsheet of sanctioned assets.

The door opened without a knock. Only one person in Delhi had that kind of audacity.

Maya walked in, draped in a sheer black chiffon saree that moved like smoke around her ankles. She looked every bit the sophisticated Director’s wife. Poised, elegant, and dangerously calm. She placed a silver tiffin carrier on his desk, right on top of a red-stamped file.

Sushant finally looked up, his glasses sliding down his nose. "Maya? Yeh kya hai?"

"Dinner hai, Sushant. Aur kya hoga?" she said, her voice smooth and calm, but with that sharp edge that always kept him on his toes. She sat on the edge of his desk, crossing her legs with a slow, deliberate grace.

"Maya, pure office ko pata chal gaya hai ki tum aayi ho. Formals mein kyun nahi aayi? You know Sanyal is around."

Maya pulled out a chair and sat down, crossing her legs with a slow, deliberate grace. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand.

"Sanyal mere liye ruka hai kya? Sushant, look at me. Teen din se tumne ghar ki shakal nahi dekhi. Office mein hi so rahe ho?"

Sushant sighed, finally rubbing his eyes and looking at her. “ Case sensitive hai, Maya. You know the protocols , Sanyal is breathing down my neck. Kaam bohot zyada hai, I can’t just leave .”

"Sanyal aur Protocols ki toh baat hi mat karo, look at you. Aankhein laal ho gayi hain tumhari. Kya mil jayega itna kaam karke? The country won't stop running if you take an hour off." Maya leaned forward, her perfume, something expensive and flora , hitting him like a wave, her voice dropping into a smooth, sassy hum. "Vese maine suna hai tumne naye recruits ko lecture diya tha kuch ‘ Emotional intelligence is a liability… vegara vegara ' . Toh phir meri yaad mein do raat se soye kyun nahi? Your assistant told me you were staring at my photo at 4:00 AM."

Sushant’s jaw tightened. "Vicky bohot bolta hai. I’ll handle him.

"Handle me first," Maya challenged, a small, elegant smirk playing on her lips. She stood up, she didn't scramble or rush; every movement was fluid. She stopped behind his chair, her hands sliding over his shoulders.

Sushant leaned back, closing his eyes for a second as her perfume , jasmine and something expensive , filled his senses. "Maya, please. Not here."

“Kyun? Just because tum yahan deputy director ho toh sab pe control chaloge ?Mujhpe yeh sab kaam nahi karega Bansal sahab " She leaned down, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. "Sushant, stop being the Architect for five minutes. Be my husband. Ghar chalo, khana thanda ho raha hai... aur main bhi."

Sushant turned his chair around, grabbing her waist and pulling her between his knees. The sudden movement made her gasp, her hand flying to his chest for balance.

"Tumhe lagta hai tum bohot hoshiyaar ho, haina?" he muttered, his voice dropping into that deep, authoritative register. "Coming here, wearing this, knowing exactly what it does to my focus."

Maya didn't flinch. She ran a hand through his hair, messing up the perfect side parting. "Focus toh pehle hi khatam ho chuka tha, Director Sahab. I just came to collect the remains.”

"Maya, behave," he warned, though his grip on her waist tightened, pulling her closer until the silk of her saree was bunched against his suit.

"Make me," she whispered, her eyes glowing with a quiet fire. "Sanyal bahar hi hai. Boldo usey ki national issue handle hogaye hai, ab domestic issue dekhne hai."

Sushant looked at her—the elegance of her posture, the sharp wit in her eyes, and the way she managed to be both his greatest support and his biggest distraction. He stood up, towering over her, and for the first time in weeks, he didn't care about the files.

He walked to the door, turned the lock with a sharp click, and looked back at her.

"Domestic security, huh?" he said, a slow, predatory smirk finally appearing. "Okay then. Let’s start the briefing."

Maya leaned back against the desk, looking perfectly unbothered. "Briefing lambi honi chahiye, Sushant. I have a lot of complaints."

"Tumhari har complaint ka jawab dunga," he said, his voice dropping an octave as he stepped into her personal space, his shadow completely eclipsing her. "But not with words, Maya. I think we’re done talking for tonight."

She didn't back down; she leaned in further, her fingers catching the knot of his tie.

"Ab kari na Deputy Director wali baat," she whispered, her eyes locked onto his with a challenging fire. "Chalo phir, let’s see if the man who runs the country’s intelligence can actually handle me."

Sushant didn't hesitate. He reached past her, his palm flat against the desk as he leaned in, his breath warm against her lips. "Be careful what you wish for, Maya. Yahan koi protocols nahi hain."

PS : all the photos , text dividers are from pinterest

Byeee!

Also secret thanks to @mainyahaankyunhoon

[mannkimansi]

Sushant’s Sanctuary

Sushant Bansal x wife!oc

Summary : Behind the steel of a high-ranking officer lies a man whose only true weakness is his wife.

Word Count : ~800

A/N : well first of all … this idea is brought to you by the @moon-inked . Hope this meets your expectations… enjoyyy.

The corridors of the Intelligence Bureau were usually thick with the scent of overpriced coffee and the heavy, suffocating silence of secrets. Sushant Bansal was the king of that silence. As the Deputy Director, he moved through the office like a ghost in a well-tailored charcoal suit, sharp and intimidatingly efficient.

To his juniors, he was a machine. To Ajay Sanyal, he was the only man whose brain worked faster than a supercomputer. Nobody knew what Sushant did after 8:00 PM. There were rumors, of course. Some thought he went home to a minimalist, cold apartment to read files , others joked that he probably just plugged himself into a charger.

"The asset is twenty minutes late," Arjun noted, his voice low, his eyes scanning the flower market from the passenger seat of the nondescript SUV. He didn't complain about the heat, he knew better than to show discomfort in front of Ajay. He just adjusted the collar of his shirt, his gaze flickering back to the entrance of a nearby nursery.

Ajay tapped a rhythm on the steering wheel. "Patience, Arjun. The heat gets to the asset, too."

After a moment of silence, Arjun’s gaze flickered to the Deputy Director’s empty parking spot back at HQ, then back to the crowd. "Sir... can I ask you something? Off the clock?"

Ajay Sanyal didn't look away from the nursery entrance. "Go ahead."

"The Director... he wears the ring, but he never mentions a life outside the Bureau. I’ve heard the rumors, but nobody actually knows. Have you ever met Mrs. Bansal ?"

Ajay’s expression softened, just a fraction. "I saw a photo once. Months ago, he was clearing his desk . She looked... spirited. Vibrant. Not at all what you’d expect for someone as clinical as Sushant."

"I just find it hard to imagine," Arjun admitted, his eyes narrowing as he spotted a familiar figure near the lilies. "I don't think that man ever stops being a machine. I don't think he can."

Ajay followed his gaze. "Look again, Arjun. Eleven o'clock."

Standing near a vibrant display of marigolds and lilies was a man who looked remarkably like the Deputy Director. But the posture was wrong. This man wasn't standing with his shoulders squared for a briefing. He was leaning against a wooden pillar, holding a heavy ceramic pot in one arm and a lady’s handbag over his shoulder without a shred of ego.

It was Sushant. But not the Sushant they knew.

Beside him was Maya. She was a whirlwind of color compared to his monochrome existence , wearing a soft floral summer dress, her hair pinned back loosely with a stray strand dancing against her cheek. She was pointing enthusiastically at a row of succulents, her mouth moving a mile a minute.

"Maya, itne saare paudhe kahan rakhenge hum? Our balcony is already a jungle," Sushant said. His voice, usually a cold blade in the boardroom, was now like warm honey and vibrating with a playful indulgence that almost made Arjun’s jaw drop.

Maya turned to him, pouting slightly as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "Sushant, look at this one! It’s tiny and cute. Bilkul tumhare gusse jaisa."

Sushant let out a low, genuine chuckle , a sound Arjun hadn't heard in five years of working under him . "Oh, really? Accha? Toh main tumhe gusse wala lagta hoon?"

He stepped closer to her, ignoring the crowd, ignoring the world. He reached out, his hand moving with a gentleness that was almost painful to watch. He didn't just tuck the hair behind her ear , his thumb lingered on her cheekbone, tracing the skin with a reverence that suggested she was the most fragile, precious thing in his world.

In the SUV, Arjun sat perfectly still. He didn't reach for a phone or make a joke. He just watched, his face a mask of profound realization. He had seen Bansal tear down generals, but he had never seen the man breathe until this moment.

Maya laughed, leaning into his touch, her hand resting on his chest, right over his heart. "Haan, sabko lagta hai tum khadoos ho. But only I know ki Deputy Director Bansal ghar aake kitne bada softy hain."

Sushant didn't even protest. He just leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers, the ceramic pot still balanced precariously in his other arm. "Softy nahi, Maya. Bas ek thaka hua pati hoon. But if these succulents make you smile like that, toh poori nursery ghar le chalo. I’ll manage."

Maya beamed, standing on her tiptoes to plant a quick, lingering kiss on his jawline. Sushant closed his eyes for a second, soaking it in, his entire frame relaxing in a way that seemed physically impossible for a man in his position. He looked human. He looked happy.

The moment was interrupted when Maya stumbled over a loose stone, a smudge of dark mud staining her sandal.

Sushant didn't hesitate. Without a second thought, Sushant kept the heavy pot on the ground and knelt down on one knee in the middle of the dusty market, and pulled a pristine, white silk handkerchief from his pocket , the one he usually used to emphasize a point during a high-level briefing.

Arjun exhaled slowly, a sound of pure disbelief, but he kept his eyes on the target area, performing his duty even as his world-view shifted.

"Dhyan kahan hai tumhara? Chot lag jati toh?" he scolded softly, though his eyes were frantic with concern.

"Tum ho na sambhalne ke liye," Maya replied softly, looking down at him with so much love it felt like a private moment they shouldn't be witnessing. "Sushant, chodo, log dekh rahe hain."

Sushant stood up, dusting his knee, completely unbothered. "Dekhne do." He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his side, his hand resting protectively on the small of her back.

As they walked toward their car, Sushant caught Maya’s hand, lacing their fingers together. He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles while whispering something in her ear that made her blush a deep crimson.

Back in the SUV, the silence was no longer heavy , it was contemplative. Arjun didn't mention the gossip he'd heard in the breakroom. He didn't even look at Ajay for a reaction.

"I didn't think he was capable of that," Arjun said quietly, his voice neutral, professional. "The handkerchief, he-… he just ruined it for a shoe."

Ajay Sanyal watched the couple drive away, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. "He didn't ruin it, Arjun. He finally used it for something that matters. Keep your eyes on the entrance. The asset should be here any minute."

The next morning, Sushant Bansal walked into the IB headquarters. His suit was sharp, his face was a mask of cold steel, and his voice was like ice as he ripped into a subordinate for a lapse in security. He was the Deputy Director again , mysterious, and terrifying.

But as he sat down at his desk, his hand instinctively went to his breast pocket. The silk handkerchief was missing, replaced by a small, green post-it note he’d tucked into his drawer.

‘Don’t be too mean to them today. Come home early, the succulents need watering. Love , Maya ‘

Sushant looked at the note, and for a split second, the mask slipped. A small, soft smile touched his lips , the kind of smile that only belonged to one person in the world. He folded the note carefully, placed it back, and looked up at the door.

"Next," he commanded, his voice back to its professional edge. But the warmth in his eyes lingered just a second longer than usual, a secret kept safe behind the steel.

PS : All the pictures and text dividers are from Pinterest.

@rehmatbaloch , @tanipartner , @tere-ni-kararan , @misteriadare , @abc1234y , @sea-breeze-in-my-hair , @poetry-beauty-love-writez , @dreamcatcher-cat , @lutt-le-gaya , @mainyahaankyunhoon , @rehmandakaitswife , @y0uneversawmehere , @zeherili-ankhein , @rayylovesf1 , @celestecelina , @wannabefucko , @obsessedwidskincare , @desi-brownie , @balochhaveli , @nostalgicbitch-12 , @bitchy-bi-trash , @kenkozkmg , @maeramtajogi , @dumbassdictionarysds , @shawty-writes-a-little , @natkhat-sa-shyam , @lipistickkkk , @maraudersbitchesassemble , @begumwithbaggage , @thebookyworm7 , @ossiespinsladen , @anxiousbeeing , @moon-inked .

Byeee!

[mannkimansi]

Domestic Diplomacy

Sushant Bansal x wife!oc

Summary : A missed wedding, a silent kitchen, and an IB officer's desperate, hilarious, and heartfelt attempt to avoid a domestic court-martial.

Word Count : ~1.1k

A/N : hope you guys enjoy this , and if you do , then please share it around… enjoyyy.

The Intelligence Bureau headquarters in New Delhi was currently on high alert, the air thick with the smell of over caffeinated agents but Deputy Director Sushant Bansal was staring at his phone with more intensity than he had ever directed at a satellite feed.

"Sir, the report on the Dhaka cell— the cabinet is waiting for the sign-off," Vicky , his secretary, ventured, pausing at the oak door of Sushant’s office.

"Not now," Sushant muttered, his thumb hovering over the screen, his brow furrowed as if he were decrypting a level-five cipher. "Main ek bohot bade crisis mein hoon."

Vicky , who had been with Sushant for long enough to read the man’s moods, leaned over the desk, expecting to see a cryptic threat. Instead, he saw a WhatsApp chat. Specifically, a string of twelve "I’m sorry" messages, all marked with two blue ticks, and zero replies. The silence from the other end was deafening.

"Mam gussa hain?" Vicky asked, finally letting a smirk break through his professional mask.

Sushant sighed, rubbing his temples where a dull ache was beginning to form. "Gussa?, she isn’t even returning my texts . Do you know what that means? In Maya’s language, that’s a declaration of war. Binary code mein baat kar rahi hai woh mujhse. 'Haan', 'Nahi', 'Hmm'. It’s a cold war, and I’m losing territory fast. I’ve survived interrogations in hostile territory, but one look from Maya when she’s disappointed? It makes me want to crawl under the earth ."

The "mess up" had been classic Sushant. He had promised to take Maya to her cousin’s wedding, but a last-minute security breach had kept him in the "War Room" for thirty-six hours straight. He had missed the wedding, the reception, and most importantly, he had missed the chance to see Maya in the royal blue silk saree she’d bought specifically to make the other aunts jealous.

“Aap kaho toh me Mam ke liye flowers bhej du ?” Vicky suggested , trying to help his poor boss .

“ Nahi , ab baat flowers se nahi banegi, I am leaving right now , you handle things here . “

“Yes sir , Best of luck “

When he finally pulled into his driveway at 6:00 PM , his suit was wrinkled, his chin was covered in stubble, and his heart was in his shoes. He didn't enter as the Deputy Director who could command a room with a single glance. He entered as a man who knew he was about to face a court-martial where he had no defense.

The house smelled of lemongrass and burnt nerves. The silence was loud . He checked the living room—empty. The bedroom—empty, but the blue saree was draped over the chair, a silent accusation of his absence. Finally, he followed the sound of a knife hitting a wooden board.

Maya was in the kitchen, her back a rigid, beautiful line of defiance. She was wearing a simple cotton kurta, her hair tied in a messy bun that usually drove him crazy with affection, but today, it looked like a combat knot. She was chopping vegetables with a rhythmic, terrifying precision. Tak. Tak. Tak. Each strike of the knife echoed in the quiet kitchen, sounding like a countdown timer.

"Maya? Jaan?" he whispered, leaning against the doorframe, trying to look as small and non-threatening as a six-foot-tall elite agent could.

The knife didn't stop. It didn't even slow down. "Vegetables fridge mein hain. Daal table pe hai. Khaana khud garam kar lena. I’m sure you can manage that, Deputy Director Sahab. After all, you manage the whole country."

Sushant winced. The sarcasm was sharp enough to draw blood. He didn't move toward the fridge. Instead, he walked right into the "danger zone," stepping behind her, feeling the heat radiating from her. He didn't try to hug her yet , he knew the rules of engagement. Instead, he picked up a discarded kitchen towel and started drying the dishes she had just washed, working in silence beside her.

"Jaan, listen to me," he said after a few minutes, his voice softening into that low, pleading tone that usually acted as a universal solvent for her anger. "Main jaanta hoon main gadha hoon. A complete idiot. Pure IB mein mujhse bada bewakoof koi nahi hai. I had the alarm set, I had the flowers ordered... but last moment pe Dhaka ki ministry ne raita phaila diya, and Sanyal Sir was literally breathing down my neck. I couldn't leave."

"Sanyal Sir se hi shaadi kar leni thi na fir?" Maya snapped, finally turning around. The knife stayed in her hand , but her eyes were bright with a mixture of hurt and exhaustion.

"Sushant, I sat there for three hours. My hair was done, my jewelry was on, and I was waiting like a decorative piece by the door. Upar se papa ne sab ko inform kar diya tha ki we are coming , Everyone was asking, 'Sushant kahan hai?' And I had to keep smiling and saying ‘last moment pe office se call aa gya '. I felt so humiliated standing alone , in front of everyone there. I felt like an afterthought. You even promised me Sushant ki hum yeh wala event miss nahi karenge, kum se kum ek phone toh kar sakte the na.“

Sushant dropped the towel. He looked at her, truly looked at her, and the sight of the faint redness in her eyes made his chest ache. He reached out, gently taking her hand , the one not holding the knife and lead her away from the counter. Then, he did something that would have caused a national scandal if his subordinates had seen it , he took both her hands, placed them on his own shoulders, and then dropped to his knees right there on the tiled kitchen floor.

"Sushant! Yeh kya drama hai? Utho! Someone might see through the window!" Maya exclaimed, her voice jumping an octave. She tried to pull away, but he held her waist firmly, anchoring himself to her.

"Nahi uthunga," he declared, his voice echoing against the cabinets. "Jab tak meri biwi mujhe maaf nahi karti, main yahin rahunga . Main 'Joru ka Gulaam' hoon . Toh gulaam hamesha apne malkin ke kadmon mein hota hai. If the neighbors see, let them. Let them know that the big, bad IB officer is actually just a man who can't function if his wife is upset with him."

"Sushant, don't be ridiculous, you’re making a scene in our own kitchen," she hissed, though he noticed the grip of her hands on his shoulders had softened. A small, involuntary dimple appeared near her mouth.

"Dekhne do! Pure Delhi ko pata chalne do ki Sushant Bansal apni biwi ka gulam hai," he said, gaining confidence as he leaned his forehead against her stomach. "Maya, please. Maan jao na? Dekho, I’ve already done the unthinkable. I’ve applied for three days of 'Personal Emergency' leave. It’s already in the system. Even Sanyal Sir can’t override it now. I’m all yours. For the next seventy-two hours, I am your errand boy, your chef, and your shadow. Jo bologi woh karunga. Breakfast in bed? Done. Shopping at Emporio for five hours while I hold your purse? Done. Even that three-hour-long, crying rom-com you wanted to watch? Main do baar dekhunga, and I promise I won’t even do my stupid commentary and point out logical flaws in it "

Maya looked down at him. This man, who was responsible for the lives of thousands, was currently kneeling amidst stray potato peels and coriander leaves just to coax a smile out of her. The cold wall she had built around her heart since the wedding night began to crumble, brick by brick.

"Shopping... seriously?" she asked, raising an eyebrow , her voice losing its edge. "Without checking your watch and your phone every ten minutes?“

Sushant raised his right hand as if taking an oath of office. "I swear on my badge. In fact, main watch pehnunga hi nahi aur phone bhi switch off kar dunga. Time ki chinta sirf tum karna, main toh bas bags uthaunga aur card swipe karunga."

Maya let out a reluctant, huffing laugh, finally running her fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair, smoothing down the stray strands. "Tum bohot bade nautanki ho, Sushant. I don't know how they take you seriously at the office."

"Sirf tumhare liye," he grinned, feeling the victory in his grasp. He stood up slowly, his tall frame dwarfing her again, but the power dynamic remained firmly in her favor. He pulled her into a deep embrace, tucking her head under his chin and breathing in the scent of her shampoo—the only thing that made him feel like he was finally home. "I really am sorry, Maya. I know I say it a lot, but seeing that look on your face , the one where you look like you’ve given up on me , it’s the only thing that actually scares me."

Maya hugged him back, squeezing him tight enough to let him know she still cared.

"Fine. You’re forgiven. But you’re on kitchen duty tonight. Full service. Main jaa rahi hoon rest karne. My feet ache from those heels I wore yesterday for no reason. And I want the gajar ka halwa reheated properly , no microwave, gas pe garam karna with extra ghee."

"Ji malkin! Jo hukam!" Sushant gave her a mock-military salute, his eyes sparkling with pure, unadulterated relief.

As Maya walked out of the kitchen, she paused at the door, a playful glint returning to her eyes. "Aur Sushant? Since you’re so eager to be a 'gulaam' tonight..."

"Ji?"

"That blue saree is still on the bed. Once you’re done with the halwa, come upstairs. I think it deserves at least one appreciative audience member before it goes back in the wardrobe."

Sushant’s smile turned from sheepish to devious in a heartbeat. "Malkin, for that view, main kitchen kya, pura ghar chamka sakta hoon. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

He watched her walk away, the familiar sway in her hips telling him that the cold war was officially over. Sushant turned back to the stove, humming a classic Kishore Kumar song under his breath. He reached for the pan, his movements fluid and light.

He pulled out his phone one last time and sent a final text to Vicky : “Do not contact me for the next 72 hours. Even if the world is ending, tell it to wait for Monday.”

Then, he clicked the phone off, tossed it onto the counter, and rolled up his sleeves. As the smell of sweet carrots and cardamom began to fill the air, Sushant Bansal realized that while he might be a hero to the country, he was much happier being the man who made the halwa for the woman who held his world in her hands.

He was the happiest "Joru ka Gulaam" in all of Delhi, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

P.S. : All the pictures and text dividers are from Pinterest .

@rehmatbaloch , @tanipartner , @tere-ni-kararan , @misteriadare , @abc1234y , @sea-breeze-in-my-hair , @poetry-beauty-love-writez , @dreamcatcher-cat , @lutt-le-gaya , @mainyahaankyunhoon , @rehmandakaitswife , @y0uneversawmehere , @zeherili-ankhein , @rayylovesf1 , @celestecelina , @wannabefucko , @obsessedwidskincare , @desi-brownie , @balochhaveli , @nostalgicbitch-12 , @bitchy-bi-trash , @kenkozkmg , @maeramtajogi , @dumbassdictionarysds , @shawty-writes-a-little , @natkhat-sa-shyam , @lipistickkkk , @maraudersbitchesassemble , @begumwithbaggage , @thebookyworm7 , @ossiespinsladen , @anxiousbeeing .

Byeee!

[mannkimansi]

The 43rd Day

Sushant Bansal x oc!wife

Summary : The silence of a lonely hallway finally ends. After forty-two days of encrypted pings, Sushant returns a day early, trading a final debriefing for a quiet kitchen.

Word Count : ~980

A/N: Writing after approximately three lifetimes. Forgive the mistakes… enjoyyy.

The keys felt lighter in Maya’s hand today, though her heart was doing enough heavy lifting for the both of them. It had been forty-two days.

Forty-two days of encrypted check-ins that lasted less than a minute, of "I’m safe" pings that arrived at three in the morning, and of sleeping on his side of the bed just to catch a fading, ghostly scent of sandalwood and old books. The hallway of their apartment complex was quiet, the air smelling faintly of rain and floor wax, but inside her chest, there was a chaotic symphony of nerves.

She didn’t expect him until tomorrow. The last brief message had suggested a late night landing at the base followed by a mountain of debriefing paperwork that would take until dawn. She had prepared herself for one more night of solitary tea and the haunting silence of an empty hallway.

When the lock clicked and she pushed the door open, the apartment didn't feel cold.

Usually, when he was away on a mission, the air felt stagnant, like a clock that had forgotten how to tick. But today, there was a warmth creeping out from the kitchen, the smell of brewing cardamom tea and the sharp, comforting zing of fresh ginger.

Maya dropped her bag by the console table, her breath hitching. She walked toward the kitchen, her heart drumming a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She stopped at the archway, her hand gripping the doorframe so hard her knuckles turned white.

There he was.

Sushant wasn’t hunched over a laptop or decoding a crisis. He was leaning against the counter in a soft charcoal-grey shirt, his sleeves rolled up to reveal those familiar, comforting forearms marked by the faint map of old scars. He was watching the tea rise in the saucepan with a quiet intensity, looking a little leaner and ruggedly bearded, but entirely, beautifully real.

"Sushant?" she whispered, her voice barely a breath.

He didn't jump. He simply turned his head, and the second his eyes met hers, the man who held the secrets of the state, vanished. His gaze softened into something so adoring, so full of raw yearning, that it made her knees weak. He turned off the stove and simply opened his arms.

Maya didn't walk, she launched herself at him. Before she could even bury her face in his neck, Sushant’s large hands caught her by the waist. With a low, breathless laugh of pure joy, he hoisted her up, spinning her around in the cramped center of the kitchen. Maya’s feet left the floor, her laughter mingling with his as the world blurred into a swirl of charcoal fabric and the scent of ginger. He spun her once, twice, holding her as if she were the only thing keeping him anchored to the earth.

When he finally set her down, he didn't let go. He kept her tucked against his chest, his forehead resting against hers. "Aa gayi?" he rasped, his breath warm against her skin. “Kitni der kar di, Maya. Main kab se wait kar raha tha."

"I thought you weren't back until tomorrow," she sobbed into his chest, her hands clutching the fabric of his shirt.

He buried his face in her hair, breathing her in like a man who had been starved of oxygen. "Bas, raha nahi gaya. I told them the paperwork could wait. Main bas ghar aana chahta tha." He pulled back just enough to frame her face, his thumbs wiping away her tears with a tenderness that felt almost worshipful. "Look at you. Bilkul dhyan nahi rakha na apna? Kitni baar kaha hai, time pe soya karo."

Maya let out a watery laugh, leaning into his touch. "Look who’s talking, Mr. Workaholic. Tumhari tabiyat kaisi hai? Are you hurt?"

"Theek hoon. Ab bilkul theek hoon," he murmured.

But the tenderness in the air began to thicken, giving way to a magnetic pull that had been stretching across continents for weeks. Sushant’s gaze dropped to her lips, and the atmosphere in the kitchen shifted instantly. The strategist was gone, replaced by a man who had spent forty-two nights imagining exactly this moment.

He backed her up against the counter, his hands sliding from her face to her waist, pulling her flush against him. The cold marble of the countertop behind her was a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from his body.

"Do you have any idea," he began, his voice dropping to a low, vibrations-in-your-bones register, "how many times I closed my eyes and tried to remember exactly how you feel? How you taste?"

He didn't wait for an answer. His mouth found hers in a kiss that was slow, deep, and heavy with the frustration of their time apart. It wasn't just a kiss, it was a claim.

Maya’s hands tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer as his touch roamed with a frantic sort of reverence. One of his hands slid up to her neck, his thumb tilting her chin back to deepen the kiss, while his other hand anchored her hip firmly against him.

The kiss broke, but only so he could trail his lips down the column of her throat. His stubble grazed her sensitive skin, a delicious friction that made her breath hitch.

"Sushant..." she breathed, her fingers tightening in his hair.

"Maine bohot intezar kiya hai, Maya," he murmured against her skin, his voice thick with a raw, hungry yearning. "Main aur nahi kar sakta. Every night, I just wanted to be back here. With you."

He lifted her easily, setting her on the edge of the counter so they were eye-to-eye. His hands slid under her thighs, pulling her even closer into his space. The intensity in his eyes was staggering, a mix of fierce protection and unshielded desire. He kissed her again, more urgent this time, his tongue seeking hers in a rhythm that mirrored the frantic beating of their hearts.

His hands wandered, mapping out the curves he had memorized long ago, his touch possessive yet remarkably gentle

The air in the kitchen was heavy, charged with the kind of electricity that only comes from a long-awaited reunion. Every time Maya tried to speak, he silenced her with another kiss, as if he were trying to drink her in, to erase the memory of every lonely night spent in a cold bunker. He pressed his face into the crook of her shoulder, his breathing ragged.

"God, I missed you so much," he whispered, his grip on her waist tightening.

Eventually, the fire settled into a glowing, steady ember. He didn't want to let her go, but he knew they were both exhausted. With a final, lingering kiss to her jaw, he lifted her from the counter, tucked firmly under his arm as they finally moved toward the living room.

The world outside ceased to exist. They migrated to the sofa, the only light coming from a small floor lamp that bathed the room in a warm, honeyed glow.

Sushant stretched out his long legs, pulling Maya into his lap so she was tucked securely against his chest, her back against his heartbeat. He pulled a knitted throw over them, cocooning them in their own private universe.

He took her hand in his, his large fingers interlacing with hers. He brought her hand up to his lips, kissing each knuckle with a quiet, steady devotion before resting their joined hands on his thigh. Then, with a slow, hypnotic rhythm, he began to trace the lines of her palm with his thumb.

"Sushant, stop it, it tickles," Maya giggled, trying to pull her hand away, but he only tightened his grip, a playful, boyish smirk breaking through his beard.

"Nahi," he murmured, pulling her hand back to his lips. "This is my favorite map to study."

He began to count her fingers one by one, pressing a tiny, soft kiss to the tip of each one. "This one for the tea you made me wait for... this one for the forty days... and this one," he whispered, kissing her ring finger, "because you’re the only reason I bother coming back at all."

Maya felt her heart swell, her fingers tangling in his as she turned her head to press a kiss to his jaw. "Tum bohot zyada filmy ho rahe ho, Mister."

"Sirf tumhare liye," he chuckled, the sound deep and vibrating against her back as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

The rain began to patter gently against the windowpane, sealing them into their sanctuary. Sushant continued his feather-light tracing of her hand, his movements growing slower and heavier as sleep finally began to claim him.

The strategist had retired for the night, leaving only the husband behind. Tangled together on the sofa, they finally found the peace that the rest of the world could never provide.

Sushant leaned down, pressing one last, sleepy kiss to the top of her head.

"Goodnight, Maya," he whispered into the dark.

"Goodnight, Sushant," she breathed, her hand tightening around his.

They were home. And for now, that was everything.

PS : All the images and text dividers are from Pinterest.

@rehmatbaloch , @poetry-beauty-love-writez , @anxiousbeeing , @tanipartner , @tere-ni-kararan , @misteriadare , @abc1234y , @sea-breeze-in-my-hair , @dreamcatcher-cat , @moon-inked , @crocsys , @balochhaveli , @bitchy-bi-trash , @celestecelina , @begumwithbaggage , @lipistickkkk , @maraudersbitchesassemble , @gulaabjamun08 , @thebookyworm7 , @ossiespinsladen , @rayylovesf1 , @yearnersaremytype , @budugu , @shawty-writes-a-little , @mischiefmanaged666 , @seasonofthenerd , @buchanana00 , @lutt-le-gaya , @mainyahaankyunhoon , @rehmandakaitswife , @y0uneversawmehere , @zeherili-ankhein , @wannabefucko , @obsessedwidskincare , @desi-brownie , @nostalgicbitch-12 , @kenkozkmg , @maeramtajogi , @dumbassdictionarysds , @natkhat-sa-shyam , @aaglagibastimainhumapnemastimain , @anakookie , @axshx04-blog , @yetunekyakiyaa , @messrsmoonysblog , @capybara-fairy , @mysticalnightingale , @kamalkafool , @giantfirefly , @celesteablack , @frankoceanlover225 , @idek19291 , @jagershootss , @idonthavechatpateusernamed , @pixiiiiiiiiiidust , @rosiasthings , @ummmrawrr , @loveunity24 .

Byee!!!

[mannkimansi]

Off Limits

Sushant Bansal x OC

Summary : In a building full of secrets, one truth is non-negotiable. Sushant Bansal doesn't share .

Word Count : ~1k

A/N : hope you guys enjoy this , and if you do , then please share it around… enjoyyy.

The late March Delhi air was heavy with the scent of unseasonal rain, but inside the Intelligence Bureau’s Tier-1 wing, the only thing Sushant Bansal could smell was Maya’s perfume , a soft floral disruption to the sterile, metallic hum of the office. It was nearly 10:30 PM. The floor was mostly deserted, save for the low glow of monitors and the occasional soft thud of a tactical boot on carpet.

Sushant sat behind his desk, the blue light of his laptop catching the sharp line of his jaw. He was a man who lived by the clock and the code, but his gaze kept drifting to the leather chair across from him where Maya was currently sitting, engrossed in a file he’d cleared for her eyes only.

Maya looked up, catching him staring. She tilted her head with a small smirk. "Sushant, focus . If Sanyal sir walks in and sees you daydreaming, your ' stoic ' reputation is gone in seconds."

Sushant didn’t look away. Instead, he leaned back, his eyes softening in a way they never did for anyone else in this building. "Sanyal sir knows exactly where my focus is, Maya. Besides, it’s late. Tumhe ghar hona chahiye tha, resting."

"And leave you here to survive on black coffee and files? Bilkul nahi," she retorted, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and went back to the document.

The quiet intimacy was shattered by a knock and the double doors swinging open. Sameer, a junior field analyst, marched in with a stack of intelligence briefs. He was young, ambitious, and today, particularly oblivious.

“Sir, the intercepts from the border sector are in," Sameer started, his voice booming. He dropped the files on Sushant’s desk, but his eyes immediately locked onto Maya.

He’d seen her around the bureau, but in the sterile office light, he clearly hadn't made the connection.

"Oh, hello," Sameer said, his tone shifting into something leaning toward a flirtatious charm. He leaned against the edge of the desk, uncomfortably close to Maya’s personal space. "I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Sameer, Lead Field Analyst. And you are… a new consultant?"

Sushant’s hand, reaching for the files, paused mid-air. The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. It wasn't a loud change rather it was the heavy pressure that precedes a storm. His expression didn't crumble into anger, it became a mask of terrifyingly calm authority, but his eyes darkened , the possessiveness he usually kept hidden beginning to bleed through.

Maya felt the temperature drop. She looked at Sameer, then flicked a glance at her husband. She saw the way Sushant’s shoulders had squared, his fingers curling slightly against the mahogany.

"I'm Maya Ban-" she tries saying before she was interrupted .

"Maya. Beautiful name," Sameer continued, leaning in further, completely missing the death stare radiating from the man across the desk. "You know, this sector can be pretty intense for 'consultants.' If you need someone to show you the ropes , main kaafi free hoon after the shift."

Sushant stood up. It wasn't a hurried movement , it was slow and deliberate. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.

"Sameer," Sushant said. The name was a low vibration of warning.

Sameer finally looked at him, blinking. "Yes, sir?"

Sushant walked around the desk. He didn't go to Sameer , he went to Maya. He stood directly behind her chair, placing a firm, proprietary hand on her shoulder. The touch was gentle for her, but the message to the room was deafening. Mine.

"The Northern sector intercepts are three hours late," Sushant began, his voice silky but edged with steel. "Instead of offering tours and introductions, shayad tumhe apni reporting speed par dhyan dena chahiye. Don’t you think?"

Sameer straightened up, the bravado draining from his face as he finally registered the coldness in his boss’s eyes. "I… yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I just thought—"

"You thought wrong," Sushant interrupted, his thumb tracing a small, soothing circle on Maya’s shoulder, a stark contrast to the sharpness of his words. "And for future reference, Sameer, she is not a 'consultant.' Inka naam Maya Bansal hai . Meri patni."

The silence that followed was absolute. Sameer’s face went from pale to a deep, embarrassed crimson. He looked at Maya’s hand, finally noticing the simple, elegant wedding band that matched the one Sushant wore. He swallowed hard, the realization hitting him like a physical blow. He hadn't just hit on a colleague , he’d hit on the wife of his boss , the most perceptive man in the IB.

"Sir… Ma'am… I’m so sorry, I didn't realize—"

"It’s alright, Sameer," Maya said, trying to diffuse the tension, though she could feel the heat radiating from Sushant behind her.

"Is it?" Sushant asked, his voice dropping an octave , directed at Sameer . “Because in this bureau, we pride ourselves on our observation skills. If you can't even notice a wedding ring, toh tum field mein survive kaise karoge?"

"Sushant… bas," Maya whispered, reaching up to put her hand over his.

Sushant exhaled, the tension easing only because of her touch. He looked down at her, his expression softening for a split second before returning to the junior analyst and marched past him towards the door , gesturing him out "Dismissed, Sameer. Finish the cross-referencing by 0600. Aur agli baar, keep your focus on the data, not my wife."

Sameer practically tripped over his own feet as he scrambled out. The heavy oak door clicked shut, the sound final and heavy. Inside, the air was thick with the aftermath of Sushant’s cold dismissal, but it quickly shifted into something far more concentrated.

Sushant didn’t move from the door for a moment. He stayed there, his back to Maya, taking a slow breath to rein in the protective surge still thrumming in his veins. When he finally turned, his gaze was dark, stripping away the Deputy Director persona until only the man remained. He walked toward her, his footsteps silent on the rug.

"Sushant," Maya murmured, turning in her chair. "That was a bit much, don't you think? Poor guy looked like he was going to faint."

Sushant sighed, but his eyes were still burning. "Uski himmat kaise hui, Maya? The way he was leaning over you… itna close… I don't care who he is, he needs to know his limits."

"He didn't know," she said softly, reaching up to straighten his tie. "You're the mysterious Deputy Director."

Sushant stepped into her space, his hands moving to the arms of her chair, pinning her in. The protective energy hadn't faded; it had just morphed into something more intimate.

"I don't need a sign," he whispered, his voice thick with a mix of irritation and grounded love. "Tum meri ho, Maya. Everyone in this building should know that if they look at you that way, they're answering to me."

Maya was still sitting in her seat , watching him with a mix of amusement and affection. Before she could say a word, he stepped between her knees, his hands sliding to her waist to pull her up flush against him.

"Sushant, gussa thanda hua? " she whispered, her hands resting on his chest.

"Not quite," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly vibration. He pulled her an inch closer, his fingers hooking into the small of her back. He pulled back just enough to look her in the eye. His glasses were slightly askew, and his gaze was hooded, heavy with a mix of lingering irritation and raw love.

"I didn’t know you were going to be this possessive, Mr. Bansal?" she teased softly, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw.

"Only when it comes to you," he replied, tilting her face up. "Tumhe idea bhi nahi hai how hard it was to stay professional just now. My first instinct wasn't a lecture on reporting speed."

"Oh? What was it?"

Sushant’s gaze dropped to her lips before he looked back into her eyes. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers. “To remind him that the only person allowed to be this close to you… is your husband. Sirf main."

As the last word left his lips, he didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned in, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He didn't go for her lips , he wanted to reclaim the space Sameer had invaded. He pressed a firm, lingering kiss to the sensitive pulse point at the base of her throat.

Maya gasped, her head falling back instinctively, her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. Sushant moved his lips upward, tracing the line of her neck with agonizing slowness. He nipped at the skin just below her ear , a sharp possessive claim , before soothing it with a slow, deep drag of his tongue.

"Sushant... yahan nahi," she breathed out, her voice shaky, though her body was leaning into him.

"Just a minute," he muttered against her skin, his hands tightening on her waist. He pressed another deep, burning kiss to her shoulder, his breath hot and demanding.

Each press of his mouth was a silent vow, a reminder that while he served the country, he belonged entirely to her.

He stayed there for a long moment, simply breathing her in, his forehead resting against her shoulder as the adrenaline of the jealousy finally ebbed into something deeper and more settled.

"Come on," he said, finally pulling back and helping her off the desk, his eyes much softer now. "Work is over. We’re going home."

"But the file—"

"The file can wait. My wife has had enough 'tours' for one day," he said, a ghost of a smirk finally appearing.

As they walked out, his hand remained anchored on the small of her back. They passed a few late working agents. Usually, Sushant would give them a curt nod.

Tonight, he kept Maya tucked close to his side, his stride possessive and proud. As he led her toward the elevator, shielding her from the mundane eyes of the office, it was clear that his most important title wasn't on his desk. It was being the man who belonged to Maya and the man she belonged to.

In the privacy of the elevator, as the doors slid shut, he finally let the mask drop. He pulled her into a proper hug, burying his face in her neck one last time before they hit the lobby.

"Ghar ?" she asked softly.

"Haan," he murmured. "Ghar chalte hain. Where I don't have to share you with anyone."

PS : All the pictures and text dividers are from Pinterest.

@rehmatbaloch , @tanipartner , @tere-ni-kararan , @misteriadare , @abc1234y , @sea-breeze-in-my-hair , @poetry-beauty-love-writez , @dreamcatcher-cat , @lutt-le-gaya , @mainyahaankyunhoon , @rehmandakaitswife , @y0uneversawmehere , @zeherili-ankhein , @rayylovesf1 , @celestecelina , @wannabefucko , @obsessedwidskincare , @desi-brownie , @balochhaveli , @nostalgicbitch-12 , @bitchy-bi-trash , @kenkozkmg , @maeramtajogi , @dumbassdictionarysds , @shawty-writes-a-little , @natkhat-sa-shyam , @lipistickkkk , @maraudersbitchesassemble , @theoracleofocean , @thebookyworm7 .

Byeee!

[mannkimansi]

The Bureaucracy of Desire

Sushant Bansal x OC

Summary : Steel logic and soft intuition 🪷 . He followed the data and she followed the man. Before the shared mornings in South Delhi, there was a briefing room in North Block and a collision that neither could calculate.

Word Count : ~1.2k

A/N : Hope you all love this and if you do , then share it around .

Before the territory was claimed, before the countless touches shared in the quiet of their homes, they were just two files on separate desks that refused to stay closed. Before the first handshake, Sushant had already mapped her movements through encrypted intercepts, and Maya had dismantled his digital footprints just to see if the man was as rigid as his code.

The Delhi humidity in early July was a living thing, the kind that made the files in the Research and Analysis Wing’s North Block office feel damp to touch .

Sushant Bansal sat at his desk, his spine as straight as the data columns on his monitors. He was Ajay Sanyal’s finest , a man who lived in the silence of satellite pings and encrypted handshakes. At twenty six, Sushant didn’t care for the spotlight. He cared for the accuracy of a coordinate and the bitter taste of black coffee at 3:00 AM.

On the other side of the bureaucratic labyrinth was Maya Sharma . She was the fire to Shushant’s ice. Based in the Internal Security division, she was known for her "boots-on-the-ground" intuition. Her career had started with a bang in the valley. Maya was known for her grace and brilliance, a woman who could dismantle an operative’s ego with a polite smile .

The collision of these two worlds was inevitable. A compromise in a communication relay bridging Internal Security and R&AW had left the capital vulnerable. It was a crisis that forced a joint task force, an unholy alliance .

Ajay Sanyal walked into the secure briefing room with the effortless pace of a man who owned the building. He didn’t look stressed rather , he looked bored, which was when he was at his most dangerous. Sushant trailed a step behind, carrying a ruggedized laptop.

Inside the room , across the table sat Vikram Pratap, the Director of IS, and beside him, Maya. She was draped in a soft pink saree, her posture impeccable, a small, elegant watch on her wrist.

Sanyal pulled out a chair, not bothering to wait for an invitation. He leaned back, crossing his legs. "Vikram, please tell me your people didn't let a school level phishing bot into our main server. Because if they did, I’m going to have to start charging you fee for using my brainpower."

Vikram groaned. "Ajay, relax. It’s a sophisticated relay breach. That’s why I brought Maya. She’s been tracking the human element of this for months."

Sanyal tilted his head toward Shushant. "And this is Bansal. He doesn't believe in 'human elements.' He believes in math. Sushant, dikhao inhein humne kya dhundha hai."

Shushant opened his laptop, the blue light reflecting in his glasses. "Sir, internal protocols suggest the breach is at the node level in Sector 4. The signal decay is consistent with an external intercept."

Maya didn't interrupt. She waited until he finished, her gaze tracing the map on the screen with a quiet intensity. When she spoke, her voice was like velvet , soft, but with a hidden edge.

"It’s a very precise map, Mr. Bansal," she said, her smile polite but distant. "But Sector 4 is a graveyard for old data. If I were trying to hide a leak, I’d place it exactly where you’re looking, simply because I’d know you’re too disciplined to look anywhere else. Logic is a beautiful thing, but it’s also very predictable."

Sushant felt a prickle at the back of his neck. He wasn't used to being corrected with such poise. "Data doesn't lie, Ms. Sharma ," he said, keeping his voice level. "Insaan jhoot bol sakta hai, binary nahi."

Maya tilted her head, a stray lock of hair falling perfectly against her cheek. "You are right Mr. Bansal binary doesn't have an agenda . But the man who wrote the code does. Hum binary ke saath nahi rehte... hum un logo ke saath rehte hain jo use manipulate karte hain."

Sanyal smirked, looking between the two of them. "Well, Vikram, it looks like we’ve got a 'Math vs. Myth' situation. “ , Sanyal suppressed a shadow of a grin. "Alright, children. Play nice. You have forty-eight hours to give me a unified target. I’ll be in my office. If I hear shouting, I’m sending both of you back to filing."

For the next two weeks, the "War Room" , a windowless, cramped box in the basement became their shared hell . The air conditioning was a suggestion at best, and the tension between them was higher than the temperature.

Sushant was used to the quiet deference of his peers, but Maya was a constant, graceful challenge. She didn't shout , she merely raised an eyebrow. She didn't call him wrong in public, but in the late hours, she would lean over his desk and softly dismantle his theories with a single, sharp witted question.

The tension wasn't loud , it was a cold war of efficiency. They shared spaces in silence, the sound of Sushant’s typing and the scratch of Maya’s pen becoming the soundtrack of their nights. He started noticing the small things , the way she took her tea without sugar, the way she hummed a faint, unrecognizable tune when she was deep in thought.

The tension had shifted. It was no longer about who was right, but about the rhythm they had fallen into. When Sushant got up to pace the room to clear his head, Maya’s eyes followed the line of his shoulders. When Maya leaned back to stretch, her spine arching slightly, Sushant’s throat went dry and he suddenly found the floor very interesting.

Distance. They still didn't touch. But the glances were getting longer

Once, around 4:00 AM, he had fallen asleep for ten minutes at his desk. He woke to find a scarf draped over his shoulders. It smelled of sandalwood and old books. He didn't thank her when she walked back in with fresh files, and she didn't acknowledge the kindness. They simply traded a look , a connection that lasted a second too long before he turned back to his monitors, his ears burning a dull red. The air in the room felt thick, not just with Delhi heat, but with the weight of everything they weren't allowed to say.

The breaking point came on a Tuesday night. The bosses had cleared out, leaving only the hum of the servers. Shushant was staring at a map of intercepted pings, his jaw tight.

"You’re still in Sector 4," Maya spoke . She was standing behind him, the scent of sandalwood filling the small radius of his desk.

"The frequency matches, Maya," he said, turning his chair. He was tired, his defenses down. "I can't just ignore the data because of a 'feeling.'"

"It’s not a feeling, Sushant. It’s a pattern," she said, stepping closer. The saree brushed against his knee. "Look at the timing. Every time you find a ping in Sector 4, a hawala transaction closes in Sector 7. It’s a rhythmic diversion. You're being played by someone who knows exactly how your mind works."

Sushant stood up, the movement bringing them dangerously close. The room felt smaller than usual. "And you think you know how my mind works?"

Maya looked up at him, her eyes dark and intelligent. "I think you’re scared that if you step outside your logic, you’ll lose your footing."

"Maya..." his voice was a low warning, but his eyes were fixed on her lips.

The air in the room seemed to vanish. The weeks of intellectual sparring, the hidden glances, and the silent respect they had built suddenly condensed into a single, magnetic pull. Sushant didn't move away. Instead, he stayed perfectly still, his gaze dropping to hers in a silent, heavy question. He didn't close the gap; he waited, giving her the space to decide.

Maya saw the invitation in the tension of his jaw. She didn't hesitate. She reached up, her fingers grazing the side of his neck, and gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. It was a silent 'yes,' a bridge built between two rivals who had finally found common ground.

Accepting the signal , Sushant reached out, his hand finding the small of her back, pulling her flush against him.

Maya gasped, her poise finally faltering Sushant didn't hesitate. He leaned down, his mouth crashing against hers. It wasn't a gentle kiss , it was a release. Release of all the tension , the unsaid words , the longing and yearning gazes .

He lifted her onto the edge of the heavy oak desk, files scattering to the floor. Maya’s legs wrapped around his waist, her fingers tangling in his hair with a desperate hunger. Sushant’s hands, usually so precise, moved with a feverish urgency, tracing the curve of her waist beneath the silk of her saree.

"Bansal..." she breathed against his lips, her voice ragged.

He moved his kisses to the sensitive skin of her neck, his breath hot. "Tumhari file mein... ye sab toh likha nahi tha,"

"Toh phir dhang se padhna seekho," she whispered back, arching her back as his hands slid higher, " Mere baare me tumhe abhi bohot kuch seekhna baaki hai."

The room blurred into shadows and heat. There was no R&AW, no IS, and no leak. There was only the weight of his body against hers, the rhythmic beating of their hearts , and the quiet realization that some patterns couldn't be mapped , they had to be felt.

Present Day :

The sound of a sizzling pan was the only thing filling the kitchen of their South Delhi apartment. The rain was drumming a steady, mundane rhythm against the balcony glass. Sushant stood at the stove, his sleeves rolled up, methodically stirring a pot of dal.

Maya walked in, wearing an oversized t-shirt and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She looked at his back , the familiar, steady set of his shoulders and felt a comfortable warmth.

"Jala mat dena," she teased, leaning against the counter.

Sushant didn't look up, but a small smile played on his lips. "I have the timer set, Maya. It needs exactly three more minutes for the tadka."

"Tum aur tumhari timing," she sighed, walking over and wrapping her arms around his waist from behind, pressing her lips into the middle of his back.

Sushant leaned back into her, letting the wooden spoon rest for a moment. The world outside was still a mess of shadows and intelligence reports, but here, in the quiet of a rainy evening, the only thing that mattered was the heat of the stove and the woman holding onto him.

PS: All the pictures and text dividers are from Pinterest.

Byeee!

@rehmatbaloch , @tanipartner , @tere-ni-kararan , @misteriadare , @abc1234y , @sea-breeze-in-my-hair , @poetry-beauty-love-writez , @dreamcatcher-cat , @lutt-le-gaya , @mainyahaankyunhoon , @rehmandakaitswife , @y0uneversawmehere , @zeherili-ankhein , @rayylovesf1 , @celestecelina , @wannabefucko , @obsessedwidskincare , @desi-brownie , @balochhaveli

[mannkimansi]

Pores, Plans, and Pretty Boy

Sushant Bansal x oc!wife

Summary : Who knew a national hero could be defeated by a face scrub? Sushant pouts, Maya laughs, and the day ends in kisses.

Word Count : ~1.1k

A/N : This fic is dedicated to all the 'scary' men who are actually just 5 year-olds when their wives bring out the skincare bag… enjoyyy.

The bathroom was steaming, not from a shower, but from the sheer amount of "recovery equipment" Maya had laid out on the marble counter. Sushant stood in the middle of the room, looking like he was facing a firing squad rather than a self-care session.

He was still wearing his grey undershirt, his hair messy from sleep, and a faint, rugged shadow across his jaw that spoke of a man who hadn’t looked in a mirror for forty-two days.

"Maya, is this really necessary? Main theek hoon," he muttered, eyeing a particularly bright pink headband on the counter with genuine suspicion.

"Bilkul necessary hai, Sushant," Maya replied, her tone leaving no room for negotiation, the kind of tone he usually reserved for his field agents. "Look at your face. It’s dry, you’ve got a sunburn from God-knows-where, and you’re frowning in your sleep, consider this mandatory for your pores."

Sushant sighed, but he didn't move away. He never did when it came to her. He sat on the edge of the bathtub as she instructed, feeling absurdly large for the delicate space. Maya stepped between his knees, her hands reaching out to slide the pink plush headband over his forehead, pushing back his dark, unruly hair.

Sushant caught his reflection in the mirror and winced. "Maya, if my team saw me right now, meri sari izzat mitti mein mil jayegi. What is this even called?"

"It’s a spa headband, and you look adorable. Ab chup-chap baitho," she teased, squirted a bit of cleansing oil into her palms.

As she began to massage his face, her warm fingers circling his jaw and forehead, Sushant’s eyes involuntarily fluttered shut. The tension he carried in his temples, the kind that came from calculating variables and managing risks, began to leak out.

"Yeh kya hai? It feels... oily," he mumbled, his voice already losing its command edge.

"Cleansing oil. It breaks down the dirt and the sunscreen you probably applied once and forgot about for a week.”

"Sunscreen roz lagaya tha, promise," he lied poorly, his eyes still closed. "But tell me something... after this 'oil' thing, I’ll look better, right? Like, ek dum chamak aa jayegi?"

Maya burst out laughing, her fingers pausing on his cheeks. "Chamak? Sushant, it’s skincare, not magic. It takes time."

He opened one eye, looking genuinely confused. "Waiit. You mean I have to do this more than once? Ek baar mein results nahi milte? This is very inefficient, Maya. Logistics ke hisab se, it should work instantly."

"Logistics nahi hai, jaan, skin hai," she whispered, rinsing his face with a warm cloth. "Step two: Foam cleanser. It gets rid of the oil."

Sushant frowned, his brow furrowing under the pink headband. "Wait, wait. Pehle oil lagaya, ab oil hata rahe ho? Why did we put it on in the first place? Direct sabun se dho lete na?"

"Because 'sabun' is for your hands, not your face, and the oil pulls out the deep-seated gunk. Trust the process, jaan."

Sushant grumbled something about “being forced” but he didn't pull away. In fact, he leaned closer, his hands find her waist, anchoring her to him. The playful banter was cute, but the proximity was doing things to his heart rate that a mission never could.

"Next is exfoliation," Maya announced, picking up a small jar of scrub.

"Exfoli-what? Sounds like a weapon, something that Ajay sir would suggest for the enemy," he said, eyeing the grainy paste.

"It’s a scrub. It takes off the dead skin cells. It’s going to tingle a bit."

As she rubbed the scrub over his nose and cheeks, Sushant made a face. "Ow. Maya, are you sure this isn't sandpaper? Isme toh chote chote pathar hain. Are you sure this is safe for human consumption?"

"It’s sugar, Sushant! Sugars and coffee. Just sit still."

"Sugar? Waste of good chai ingredients," he muttered, though he was secretly enjoying the way her face was only inches from his. He could see the little flecks of gold in her eyes and the way she bit her lip when she was concentrating. "So, after these pathars, then the glow comes? I’ll look like those heroes in the movies?"

Maya rinsed his face again, her touch lingering on his jawline. "You already look better than them to me. But yes, you’ll have a 'glow'."

"Good. I want to look so good that you can't look away," he said, his voice dropping an octave, his eyes darkening as they tracked her movements.

"Sushant, behave. I’m trying to be professional here," she whispered, her cheeks flushing. She reached for a sheet mask, the ultimate test for any man. When she unfolded the cold, dripping white cloth, Sushant actually recoiled.

"No. Absolutely not. Maya, main bhoot lagunga isme. What is that? It looks like a wet handkerchief with questionable holes."

"It’s a sheet mask, Sushant! It’s full of serum. It’s the most important part. Please? Just fifteen minutes."

He looked at the mask, then at her pouting face, and he was a goner. He sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. "Fine. But no photos. Agar headquarters mein yeh photo pahonchi, toh main resign kar dunga."

Maya carefully laid the cold mask over his face. Sushant let out a small yelp at the temperature. "Arre! It’s freezing! Maya, are you punishing me for something? Maine kya kiya?"

"It’s cooling! It’s good for the inflammation. Just breathe, Sushant."

For the next fifteen minutes, the fierce commander of the most elite unit in the country sat on a bathtub edge, wearing a pink headband and a dripping white sheet mask that made him look like a very confused ghost.

Maya didn't stay still, her phone was out in a second, the camera shutter clicking repeatedly. She needed this saved in high-definition. A well-moisturized, pouty Sushant was a rare sighting, and she wasn't about to let that go undocumented,

Then, pretending as if she didn’t do anything mischievous she started organizing her own vanity, huming a song.

"Maya," he said, his voice muffled and stiff because he was afraid to move his face.

"Hmm?"

"Is it working? Can you feel it happening?"

She turned around, biting her lip to keep from howling with laughter. "I can feel it. It’s a very intense transformation, Sushant. You’re practically sparkling, like Edward from twilight ."

"Mazak uda rahi ho na?" he asked, though he couldn't see her clearly. "I’m serious. I’ve gone through three layers of chemicals and sugar stones. I expect to be unrecognizable. Like a new recruit."

"You’re ridiculous," she said, coming back to him. She sat on his lap, her weight making him grunt softly, and she checked the timer on her phone. "Okay, time’s up."

She peeled the mask off, and Sushant let out a breath of relief. "Thank God. I felt like a mummy."

"Wait, don't wipe it off! You have to pat the leftover serum into your skin," she said, her fingers dancing over his face, tapping gently.

Sushant caught her wrists, stopping her. The playfulness in the room shifted, the air suddenly feeling heavy and warm. He looked at her, his skin actually looking hydrated and bright, but his eyes were focused only on her.

"Enough tapping," he whispered, pulling her closer until her chest was pressed against his. "Maine bohot mehnat ki hai aaj. Sugar stones, cold cloths, pink headbands... I think I deserve a reward for my bravery."

Maya smiled, her heart doing that familiar flip-flop. "A reward? You think you’re a hero because you wore a mask for fifteen minutes?"

"In my world, this is considered as an act of bravery," he teased, his thumb tracing the line of her lip. "And I didn't break.“

"So, now give me my reward," he murmured, his gaze dropping to her mouth.

He didn't wait for her to respond. He pulled her into a kiss that was slow and sweet, but backed by the intensity of days of longing. Maya’s hands went to his neck, her fingers grazing the soft edges of the pink headband he was still wearing, which made the whole moment feel absurdly domestic and incredibly sexy all at once.

He broke the kiss just an inch, his forehead resting against hers, his breathing ragged. "So... if I do this every day, will I become even more handsome ? Or is there a limit?"

Maya laughed, her forehead still against his. "You just want me to touch your face every morning, don't you?"

He smiled, a genuine, boyish look that he only ever showed her. "Pakda gaya? Caught me. I know a good deal when I see one. I get a face massage, you get to look at my 'glow'. It’s a win-win."

He stood up, still holding her in his arms as if she weighed nothing at all. He walked toward the bedroom, the pink headband still firmly in place, looking like the world’s most dangerous and most well-groomed diplomat .

"Sushant, the headband! Take it off!" she giggled.

"Nahi," he said, his eyes full of mischief as he kicked the bedroom door shut. "It’s part of the mission now. And we haven't even finished the final step of the recovery protocol yet."

"What’s the final step?"

Sushant smiled, a slow, dangerous look that made her pulse soar. "Full-body hydration. And I think I’m going to need your help with that, Maya."

The lights went out, leaving only the scent of sandalwood, ginger tea, and expensive face cream lingering in the air—the scent of a commander finally, perfectly, at home.

PS : All the images and text dividers are from Pinterest.

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[mannkimansi]

Permission to Love

Sushant Bansal x oc

Summary : A high-stakes strategist trades his cold data for a ring and a prayer in the Delhi winter.

Word Count : ~1.3k

A/N : hope you guys enjoy this , also there is note in the end , please read it… enjoyyy.

The February sun was a pale, dew over the manicured lawns of the Lodhi Colony , casting a honey glazed glow over their living room. There was no disturbance , just the sharp, dry scent of eucalyptus , the faint sound of a distant neighbor’s wind chimes and the crackling hum of an old vinyl spinning in the corner.

But today wasn't about the music . It was about the fact that for the first time in six years of his career , the most composed man in the Intelligence Bureau , the man who handled international issues without breaking a sweat , was visibly vibrating with nerves and struggling to breathe because he had a velvet box hidden inside his pocket .

Sushant was standing in front of the full-length mirror, He had swapped his suit for a simple black sweater, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, running a hand through his hair and completely ruining the neat side parting he’d spent ten minutes perfecting , looking less like a Deputy Director and more like a man about to plead a very important case.

He checked his pocket for the tenth time. The small velvet box felt like a live grenade.

Maya walked in, wearing a soft, peach colored dress that made her look like a dream. She stopped in the doorway, leaning against the frame, watching him struggle with a playful glint in her eyes .

"Sushant, relax . It’s just dinner at my parents' place. Tum itne tense kyun ho? Papa wouldn’t shoot you at sight "

Sushant cleared his throat, his voice low . "Bas... Colonel Sahab se mil raha hoon toh presentation theek honi chahiye.”

Sushant caught her hand, kissing her palm with a lingering, desperate heat. "Chalein? I don’t want to reach late to a retired Colonel’s house “

"Chalo, Mr. Punctual," she whispered.

The drive to her parents' house was silent, Sushant kept his eyes on the road, his left hand tapping a nervous, quiet rhythm against the gear stick. He stole a quick glance at Maya, who was humming to the radio, completely oblivious to the havoc inside his head .

When they arrived, the sun glowed over the driveway and as they walked into the Sharma’s living room, the atmosphere was pure military discipline.

Colonel Raghav Sharma sat there, looking like a man who had seen too many wars to be impressed by a Deputy Director. Maya’s mother, Sunita, was the softening element, her smile kind but her eyes sharp . Clearly, Maya got her "intelligence" from both sides.

Lunch felt like the easiest part of the day . They talked about the weather, the cold in Delhi, and the state of the civil services. Sushant answered every question with his usual precision, his voice steady, his facts grounded. He was winning the battle of logic, but he could feel the Colonel’s gaze searching for the soul behind the statistics.

The next few hours were a blur of chai, extra-sweet mithai, and Maya’s mother asking about Sushant’s childhood in Rohini. Sushant stopped being the man who ran the country’s shadows. He talked about his mother’s cooking, the struggle of his first posting in Srinagar, and how Maya was the only person who could make him forget a bad day at the office.

Finally, the sun disappeared, and the fairy lights on the verandah flickered on. Maya had been "tasked" by her mother to , find some old pashminas . Leaving Sushant and the Colonel by themselves. Sushant seized the opening. It was the fastest, most high-stakes negotiation of his life.

"Sir , mere paas sirf do minute hain before she comes back," Sushant said, his voice dropping into that deep, gritty tone, but trembling just enough to be human. "Main patterns aur data ka aadmi hoon , thoda boring hoon, mujhe pata hai. Main dhang se gaana nahi ga sakta, aur meri baatein aksar fileon tak hi rehti hain. Par jab se Maya meri life mein aayi hai na, mujhe samajh aaya ki ghar sirf char deewar nahi hoti.”

He paused, glancing at Maya who was standing far away , out of earshot . His expression didn't melt, but it shifted , a subtle softening of the eyes that only an observant man would catch.

“In my line of work, we are trained to see people as assets or liabilities. Logic is the only language I was allowed to speak for six years. But Maya ne mujhe logic ke bahaar dekhna sikhaya hai. I don't come here with a portfolio of my achievements, sir. Main yahan ek officer ki tarah nahi, ek beti ke papa se baat karne aaya hoon.”

He took a breath, his hand finding the button of his sleeves , gripping it tight. "Main waada toh nahi kar sakta ki hamari zindagi mein koi khatra nahi hoga... you know my job. But I can promise you this: as long as I am standing, nothing , no file, no operative, no shadow will ever touch her. I want your permission to officially make her my priority."

The room went deathly quiet. The Colonel stared at Sushant for a long, grueling minute, his face a mask of stone.

"Aur agar kal ko koi aisi situation aayi jahan tumhe country aur Maya mein se ek ko chunna pade?" the Colonel asked, his voice dropping an octave. "What then, Bansal ?”

Sushant didn't hesitate. "Country meri zimmedari hai, sir. Par Maya meri jaan hai. I’ll protect the country for her, taaki wo ek safe duniya mein reh sake. I won't choose, because without either, I’m incomplete. I don’t think anybody can understand that better than you .”

The Colonel let out a long, slow breath , then he looked back at Sushant and gave a single, sharp nod.

"Dhang ka ladka dhoondha hai , Maya ne ,"

The Colonel didn't move. He searched Sushant’s face, looking for the calculated lie of a spy. He found only the quiet desperation of a man in love. Then, slowly, the Colonel’s lips twitched.

"Bansal, I’ve read your career profile. You’re the best strategist the North Block has seen in a decade," the Colonel said, his voice gruff. "But I was worried you were a robot. However..." He gestured to Sushant’s hand, which was still white-knuckled around the button . "Robots don't get sweaty palms. Aur rahi baat meri beti ki... she’s been handling everything on her own for two years. Clearly, she’s the better operative. Agar voh taiyaar hai tumhare saath apni life bitane ke liye, toh main kaun hota hoon mana karne wala?"

He stood up, extending a hand. "You have my blessings , son . Khayal rakhna uska aur yaad rahe ... if you ever make her cry, mere paas abhi bhi meri purani service pistol hai."

Sushant shook the hand firmly, a genuine, boyish smirk finally breaking through his mask. "Noted , sir . I’ll make sure you never have a reason to use it. Aur agar esa kuch hua , toh main khud aapke liye gaadi bhejunga.”

Sushant exhaled a breath that felt like ten years of tension leaving his lungs. He touched the Colonel’s feet just as Maya’s voice drifted from the hallway. " Papa , look what I found , you looked so funny in these flared pants .”

As she entered the living room , she looked at Sushant, then at her father. "Kya hua? Itni silence kyun hai? Are you guys plotting a coup?"

Sushant stood up, a rare, boyish smirk playing on his lips. "Nahi. Bas... weather discuss kar rahe the. Chalein? It’s getting late."

The drive back was electric. Maya was flipping through the old photos, laughing at her father’s fashion sense, completely oblivious to the weight in Sushant’s pocket. The mission was reaching its climax. Instead of turning toward her apartment, he steered the SUV toward the Sunder Nursery, parking near the shadowed, elegant arches of the old tomb.

He walked around to her side and opened the door. "Maya, bahar aao."

"Sushant? Yahan kyun? Coffee?" she asked, looking at him curiously.

"Nahi. Walk karni hai," he said, his voice a bit rough.

The park was silent, bathed in the soft orange glow of the heritage lights. The February wind bit at her bare legs , as she was about to speak , she noticed , there was no one beside her .

She turned around to see where he was , her hair whipping across her face in the breeze—and the breath left her lungs.

Sushant was down on one knee.

The Deputy Director of the IB, was looking up at her with a raw, human vulnerability that made her heart stop. He held a small velvet box, the diamond catching the light and sparkling with a lethal brilliance.

"Maya, now that i have your parents’ blessing, listen to me “ he began, his voice dropping , thick with emotion.

"Main bohot mushkil aadmi hoon. Main files ke saath sota hoon aur data ke saath jagta hoon. My life is a series of calculated moves. Par tum... tumne mera poora system crash kar diya hai. Tumhare aage haar toh me usi din gaya tha jis din tumhe pehli baar dekha tha, Maya. Will you marry me? Will you be my forever ?”

Maya let out a shaky, high-pitched sob-giggle, her hands flying to her mouth. "Sushant! Oh my god! Yes! YES, tum pagal ho! Of course yes!"

She lunged at him, nearly knocking him over. Sushant laughed , a real, booming, joyous sound , as he slid the ring onto her finger and swung her around in a circle, He didn't let her feet touch the ground for a long moment, his hands locked firmly around her waist, anchoring her to him .

When he finally set her down, Maya was breathless, her face glowing under the soft orange garden lights. She reached up, her fingers trembling as they cupped his face, tracing the sharp line of his jaw as if to make sure this was actually happening. "Sushant... tum pagal ho," she whispered, her voice breaking with a giddy, tearful laugh.

"Main sirf tumhara hoon, Maya," he murmured, his voice dropping into that deep tone that always made her knees weak.

He didn't wait for her to respond. He leaned down, his mouth crashing against hers with a hunger that had been building since the moment he’d tucked that velvet box into his pocket. It wasn't a restrained or calculated kiss .

It was the desperate, heavy claim of a man who had finally found his home.

PS : All the pictures and text dividers are from Pinterest .

Manifesting some actual creativity because my own brain cells have officially gone on strike. 💀I’m officially admitting defeat: I have no idea what to write next. Thoda sa apna dimaag udhaar de do 🤲. Whether it’s something soft and pyaar-bhara or just straight-up chaos, my inbox is your playground.

Also main smut nahi likhungi , at least for now ( mujhe likhna aata bhi nahi h ) .

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