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#so definitely expect more art like this to keep coming!
gffa · 2 days
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I adore your batman stuff very much. I recently read the Wayne Family Adventures, and now I really want to read some more. Do you have recommendations on comic lines to follow?
Hi! I'm glad you're having fun with getting into comics and enjoying the posts around here, it's always nice to have new blood (or returning blood, in my case)! <3 I would give a gentle caution in that Wayne Family Adventures is sort of in a class of its own in a lot of ways, the characterization is much softer and fluffier, while the mainline comics are darker and messier, the characters are definitely not always as nice as they are as in WFA. That's no shade on either of them, just that I want to give a quick warning that if you're stepping from one to the other, the culture shock can sometimes be more than you're expecting. (And also keep in mind that comics are a shifting landscape, there's no one "true" version of many of the landmark moments of characters' lives, you'll see events often retold, you'll see comics that later get retconned, you'll see comics that are in different continuities/set before or after a universe-wide reboot, etc. Don't worry about it, just recognize that you're reading a story to enjoy that story, not as Hard Continuity!) That said, some of the lighter comics that I think would be fun if you're looking to come over from WFA are:
Li'l Gotham is a cute parody series that's super adorable, has some lovely art, and is nice little self-contained stories that are humorous. It's not in mainline continuity and it's even softer than WFA, but it's deeply charming and it's a fun, quick read.
Super Sons (2017) by Peter Tomasi is in mainline continuity and it's focused on Damian Wayne and Jonathan Kent becoming friends, bickering all the while, and getting into hijinks. It tends to lean more humorous and cute, so it's a nice stepping stone up to regular comics.
Robin and Batman (2022) by Jeff Lemire and Dustin Nguyen is a good litmus test for whether you might like regular comics--it's a short 3-issue mini-series focused on Dick's early days as Robin and the complicated, thorny relationship he has with Bruce about it. It's one of my favorite, it balances what a terrible gremlin he was with what a little angel he was and the emotional beats are painful in the best way.
Robin: Year One (2000) and Batgirl: Year One (2003) by Scott Beatty/Chuck Dixon and Marcos Martín/Javier Pulido are good places to start for both characters, and hold up okay considering their age. The art is a bit stylized in a way I really like, it lends it a charming old-fashioned vibe while still being pretty to look at, and there's some solid character moments in both.
Nightwing (2016) by various (starts with Tim Seeley, but it's been several authors by now) is one of my go-to recs, I think it's a great jumping on point, has a lot of really nice art, and often tells fun stories, as Dick has some of the best connections to various other characters in the universe.
Nightwing (2016) by Tom Taylor starts with issue #78 and is a great jumping-on point and Taylor's writing is just very light-hearted, action-packed, quippy, and fun. Starting here saves you from having to slog through some of the worse arcs of Dick's series, you get Bruno Redondo's fantastic art, and you can feel the affection for the character, the author and artist love this character and want to make him very cool, as well as they love his relationships with other characters, so you get good Bruce guest appearances, Babs appearances, Damian appearances, Wally appearances, Jon appearances, etc.
Robins: Being Robin by Tim Seeley and Baldemar Rivas was a fun self-contained mini-series that had all the Robins working together and I don't think it should be taken super seriously as a case story, but it had some quality banter, some hilarious moments, and a great look at these chaotic gremlins all shoved into a mini-van together to go solve a case.
Batgirls (2022) by Conrad Michael W./Becky Cloonan and Jorge Corona is focused on Babs, Cass, and Steph as a trio and being adorable together, with some humorous moments, cool art, and fun Batfam moments. It's nice that they get the spotlight and the chance to shine (it's their book, so they get the majority of the cool moments) and it's not super-long and you can jump right in.
Batman: The Knight by Chip Zdarsky and Carmine Di Giandomenico is a "Bruce travels the world to learn the skills he needs to become Batman" and I'm really in love with the way Zdarsky writes a Bruce who is deeply complicated, messy, coming from a place of loving deeply, but also this man has twenty seven different flavors of fucked up trauma going on in that hell brain of his. Zdarsky's current run on the main Batman title has been my jam, but that's a bit of a darker leap than this one, and I think this one is a great way to get to know Bruce Wayne as a character.
Batman: Urban Legends volume 5 has a story called "The Murder Club" that is basically "Thomas and Martha Wayne are time traveled into the future and see what's become of their son, they're not thrilled about it, but come around when they see the people that love him so deeply--primarily Dick, Damian, and Alfred." and was an absolute BANGER for me for feelings, gorgeous art, and some great character moments.
Batman/Superman: World's Finest (2022) by Mark Waid and Dan Mora is an absolute knock-out, it's Bruce and Clark in their early days of their friendship, where Waid is one of the best writers in the industry for how fun his stories are but also how well he knows the characters, Mora's art is often THE portrayal I think of when I think of the characters, and there's a ton of bonus guest appearances from various characters across DC's universe. Also, I am biased, Dick tags along a lot, as he's still Robin at this point in time, and it's a great dynamic between the three of them.
Batman: One Bad Day: Mr. Freeze by Gerry Duggan and Matteo Scalera was easily the standout of the "One Bad Day" stories for me, it's set in the early days of Bruce & Dick as Batman & Robin and it has ADORABLE sunshine gremlin baby Dick Grayson, a genuinely touching story about Mr. Freeze and his wife, and some beautiful art.
Year One: Batman/Scarecrow (2005) by Bruce Jones and Sean Murphy is a fun look at the early days of Scarecrow, but also has absolutely banger baby Dick Grayson content, there's a scene where Bruce literally just grabs him by the scruff of the neck to haul him out of the way of a crowd about to stampede and it's the funniest thing because that 12 year old could destroy your face with his fists but also Bruce can literally pick him up one-handed. There's some great banter in there and it's just a super fun dynamic.
As you make your way through this list, keep the author/artist and year listings in mind, as often times there are multiple series under the same title and some are more relevant to what you're looking for right now than others. Like, there have been three different volumes of "World's Finest", but I want to direct you specifically to the 2022 version because I think that'll work better for you. Similarly, Nightwing 1996 is one of my faves, but I think the 2016 version will work better at drawing you in right now. This is definitely biased in favor of my faves, but I honestly think they work for good jumping on points for someone new to comics and who's coming from WFA and might not want to get into the messier stuff of the mainline comics right away. Hopefully, you'll enjoy these and anyone else who wants to transition from WFA to reading mainline continuity comics, feel free to join us! Yeah, comics fandom can be a bit of a pill sometimes, but genuinely there's a lot of really fun moments to love and the characters are so much more fun when you're reading their stories with all the history and depth behind them!
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ahundredtimesover · 3 months
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I Want You to Stay (01) | JJK
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Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader
Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut
Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)
Chapter Word count: 12k
Series Masterlist
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Status: Ongoing
Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.
Playlist 🎶: on the way home
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A/N: Happy 2024, everyone! 🎉 Dropping this tonight as a welcome to the new year and the start of the wild journey that is this story. It's a different JK that I'm used to writing. It's also a different arrangement for me as the story is still being written, so just a heads up that updates won't be as regular compared to before, but they'll definitely come (pls don't come at me hehe 😁)! This is also a painfully slow build-up with lots of details and office talk so please be patient! I don’t know how this will turn out and be revived but I hope you enjoy! 💕
Also my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight as always 🥰
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Jung Hoseok’s smile is like a ray of sunshine - warm on cool mornings, radiant on sunny afternoons. It’s light and infectious, but more than anything, it’s genuine. There’s comfort in the way his entire face beams and how the rest of his body follows; there’s this sense of openness that makes it easy to be around him, that makes it easy to work for him.
It was 10 years ago when you first encountered that smile - bright and encouraging as he welcomed you and the rest of the interns to his family’s company. It slowly dissolved the anxiety you were feeling over being 1 of 12 chosen students to work for one of the leading real estate and property development corporations in the country. You’d see it again two years later as an employee, and you recall how he perked up at the sight of you, having remembered those eight weeks you spent preparing the conference room for their meetings and serving the executives their coffee. 
You wouldn’t have expected that five years after that, you’d be seeing that smile everyday as his executive assistant, and it was one of the things that made the job bearable. Despite the long hours and the amount of work you had to do and events you had to accompany him to, working for Hoseok always felt worth it. Despite the insane amount of pressure he was put under and the stress he had to endure, Hoseok somehow always managed to smile. 
He was serious when he had to be, but there was joy in how he did things. He allowed himself moments of calm, of time to check in on his support team for a few laughs. He’d spare himself a few minutes a day to sway to the soft music he plays in his office, he’d preside over meetings with vigor, and he’d start and end every interaction with anyone with that smile - the same smile that assures you that all your hard work is appreciated and which encourages you to keep learning.
It’s that same smile that he has on right now, as he hands you a custom-made cake with ‘you worked hard’ written on it. He says the words as your eyes turn to him in surprise. 
“Thank you for all that you’ve done,” Hoseok says. “I know you were new to the role just like I was but you made everything so easy for me. I’m gonna have to get used to being without your brilliance, Ms. Cho. I hope you never doubt yourself ever again.”
Your astonished face turns into a pout, as it dawns on you that it’s Friday, the first unofficial day of you no longer being Hoseok’s executive assistant, given his appointment as President not long ago. Yet despite the big change he’ll be experiencing starting next week, he’s the one affirming and comforting you, something that’s rare for someone of his stature and something you’ll definitely miss. 
“You know I don’t cry, but I just might,” you respond, earning you a chuckle. “But really, I… I can’t thank you enough for taking a chance on me. I know my credentials weren’t like the others but—”
“Ms. Cho,” he interjects. “The only credentials those other applicants had were the universities they went to, but none of them matched your level of skill and dedication to the role. I can assure you that none of them would’ve managed the past three years like you did. I should be thanking you for dealing with all the craziness with me.”
“You’re a good boss, it’s that simple,” you return the compliment now. “You were patient with me and challenged me to be better without putting me down. That does a lot for a person’s confidence, you know?”
“I know that now,” he smiles again. “But really, I don’t think I could’ve asked for a more competent right-hand woman. Jungkook’s lucky he’s taking my position with the most capable assistant to help him out.”
At the mention of the man’s name, your face sours, something that Hoseok picks up, earning you another laugh. 
“Not a fan of him, I see,” he eyes you curiously.
“I don’t mean any disrespect, Mr. Jung, but your cousin is not you,” you explain. “I may have only seen him a handful of times but those are enough to let me know that he does not smile.”
“Yes, I do confirm that,” Hoseok chuckles. “Jungkook’s quite the perfectionist and very much a workaholic. But he’s brilliant and creative and you’ll learn a lot from him, too. He’s being primed to co-lead the company with me and he needs a strong support for that and I think that’s you. His father thinks that’s you, and for the CEO to think so means a lot, ___. Uncle has seen how you work and was adamant that you remain in this role, especially with his son assuming the Vice President position.”
You know that Hoseok means to reassure you, but you suppose your insecurities over having this role and even being in this company won’t ever really go away. You didn’t graduate from a prestigious university in Seoul like most employees here did, and in this society, that usually means everything. You’re thankful for the trust that you’ve been given and you agree that you worked hard for it, too, but it will always be overwhelming; even then, it sometimes still feels undeserved. 
At your silence, Hoseok speaks again. “___, as your former boss and as your friend, I’m here to back you up. Jungkook’s family but if he, for some reason, acts like a hard-headed jerk, you let me know, okay?”
He turns serious now, as he silently asks for you to promise him that you’ll speak out if you need to. Hoseok knows what you went through under Mrs. Byun, the former manager who abused her power over you until her own slip-up caused her downfall years later, and he doesn’t want you to go through that again. 
“Okay. But I didn’t mean to imply that he’s a jerk just because he doesn’t smile,” you clarify. “I guess I meant to say that… I’ll miss working for you. That’s all. We somehow always got a laugh in, no matter how stressful things were. I’ll miss being with A-yeong, too.”
“I know you also meant to say that I’m the best boss you’ve ever had,” Hoseok chuckles, though you don’t miss the sadness in his eyes, too. “But I’ll just be two floors above you. You’ll still see me everywhere. And A-yeong’s gonna miss you, too, that’s why she can’t let you go without having dinner out, that I’m apparently not invited to.”
“We’re just gonna gossip about you, don’t worry,” you tease, appreciative of the fact that his wife has been kind to you all these years, apologizing to you on his behalf during the rare times he’s cranky, and gifting you little things from their trips abroad. “But thank you again, Hoseok,” you continue, dropping the formalities when you mean to speak to him as a friend, because that’s what he is, and it’s a rarity in this industry where those in power tend to take advantage of those below them. “You’ve treated me well, and I’ll never forget that.” 
“Thank you, ___,” he smiles once more. “I’ll finish setting up my new office now. I’ll see you there in 30 minutes, okay? I know Jungkook officially starts on Monday but he wanted to get all the administrative stuff out of the way as soon as possible and since my old room is being sanitized, he’ll be staying at mine the whole morning. HR has everything he needs to sign so please get those documents from them before heading to my office.”
“Oh, so he’s coming today?” You ask, unable to hide the mix of surprise and disappointment in your voice. You’re clearly uninformed about this. “Didn’t he just arrive last night?”
“Yes, he did. I thought he’d at least spend today resting but no, he called me an hour ago to say he’ll drop by this morning so he can get straight to business on his first day,” Hoseok explains, shaking his head at the thought of his cousin wanting to get straight to work. “I know it’s short notice so you don’t need to brief him or anything yet. You’ve been buried in organizing all my files this past week after all.” 
“Okay, but I’ve got everything organized for him already anyway in case he wants to start,” you say, having prepared all the documents he’d need to ease into his role more smoothly, knowing it’s your job to help him with that. 
“Of course you have,” Hoseok chuckles, impressed as always with how on top you are of everything. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”
You sulk in your seat once he’s out of view, whining internally because much as your files are ready for your new boss, you’re the one who isn’t. You’d held off on mentally preparing yourself for meeting the Jeon Jungkook, second son of the current CEO of Jeon Corporation and the new Vice President, thinking you’d have the entire weekend for that, so you’re caught off guard at having to face him today. It’s one thing to move on from no longer having Jung Hoseok as your boss - that itself took you months to process and accept; it’s another to have to get used to assisting someone else, someone you know is completely different in attitude and approach to his work.
Jungkook used to be an executive in the Singapore office, the Southeast Asian headquarters of the company. In your three years as Hoseok’s assistant, you’d only seen Jungkook a few times, such as when he’d fly to Seoul for an official visit or a family gathering but you never interacted, as you didn’t really have a reason to, especially since you were always busy with making sure the event was running smoothly. 
But you’d definitely noticed him, partly because the female staff always talked about him when he was around, and partly because next to his parents and his cousins, who are all personable in their own ways, Jungkook sticks out like a sore thumb. You’re not exaggerating when you say that you’ve never seen him smile - not for the pictures and not when he’s talking to the other executives and employees, a contrast to his father’s infectious charm and his mother’s youthful energy.
You’ve gotten used to Hoseok’s passion balanced with his thoughtfulness and joy - you always enjoyed the videos that A-yeong would show you of their weekends doing ballroom dancing because it’s what he loved to do with her. You’re unsure how you’ll manage assisting someone who’s the complete opposite. You’ve heard of Jungkook’s abilities though; his father always spoke of them with pride. Creative and innovative, he’d say of his son, but he always lived in his head, too, and perhaps that’s why even if he can socialize with others, he prefers not to, given that you’d always seen him at the bar after said events, drinking on his own.
You didn’t think those times that you’d one day be having him as your boss. You didn’t expect the appointments to come this soon, nor did you expect to still be in the company by the time they happened. But here you are, about to meet him and hoping to the heavens that whatever preconceived notions you have of him based on what very little you know would be proven wrong. 
Wanting to calm yourself down before meeting him, you head to the management support team’s office for a cup of tea in the pantry, but you’re stopped by Do-hyun, one of the project assistants. 
She hugs you like she always does, even if you rarely ever return it, and she whines like you expect her to, given her unusually pouty face. 
“It’s only been an hour but I already miss Mr. Jung,” she laments. “Why did they appoint him as President so soon? They could’ve waited for another year or so, or at least let him take us with him!”
You find yourself being the reasonable one this time, as you pull her away from you so you could talk to her properly. 
“We always knew he was going to be President, Do-hyun. But then the Board decided to make Ji-woo head of the Singapore office after their uncle stepped down, and that meant Hoseok had to take his sister’s place,” you explain, knowing how generational corporations like this work, with family members rotating in the executive positions. “And much as he’d like to take us with him, the position already comes with its own team. He’s just two floors above us, though. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we popped in every once in a while to say hi.”
“No, I’m bitter,” she pouts again, earning her a laugh from you.
“Well, at least the new Vice President isn’t a stranger,” Manager Lee chimes in. 
“I heard the CEO’s son doesn’t smile,” Do-hyun counters. “How do we go from assisting someone who literally gives all of us the energy to work each day, to someone who doesn’t think there’s anything worth being happy about? I also heard he’s a workaholic, so what if he demands that we can’t leave the office until he does? And that he’s kind of a fuck boy, so what if he has a scandal that we have to—” 
“Yah! Those are just hearsay, and we don’t listen to those,” you warn her, not wanting the team to start on a bad note because of some rumors about your new boss that may or may not be true. 
And if those are, it’s your job to make sure that those are handled properly and that there’s no friction between the management support team and the Vice President. The thought suddenly hits you and you feel nauseous. You’ve never had these worries with Hoseok because he always prioritized the team - he made sure that tasks were properly delegated, that you all took your well-deserved break, that you weren’t burnt out, that you all knew he got your back the way you all got his. 
But then again, it’s natural to be anxious about change, especially when what you had was already the best it could’ve been. And much as you were the one worrying about this earlier, you’re now the one who has to reassure the team, especially the younger members, that things are going to be okay. 
“You’ll meet him soon, and I’ll make sure he’s properly oriented with everything before he sits down with you all,” you say. “Let’s just be optimistic about this, okay? Manager Lee has been here a while and he can guide all of us when it comes to adapting to changes like this.”
The rest of the team nods, voicing their agreement about being open and welcoming to your new boss. 
“Okay, good. Now let me get my tea before I combust,” you chuckle, heading towards the adjacent room. 
You’re busy taking breaths in between sips of your hot drink when you see a familiar face in the room through the glass window, prompting you to head back outside.
“Mr. Ri,” you greet, causing the man before you to turn towards you. “What are you doing here? Does Mr. Jeon need anything?” 
Knowing you’re referring to the elder Jeon, Mr. Ri shakes his head. 
“I’m here as Jungkook’s chauffeur and bodyguard, actually. His father appointed me, wanting people he trusts to help his son,” he clarifies. “I’ve just driven him from his penthouse.”
“Oh,” you say, unable to control the way your face falls a little. “So, he’s here.”
“He is. He said he wanted to get things done today so he doesn’t waste his time when he starts next week. He’s at Hoseok’s office right now. I believe he’s supposed to sign some documents?”
“Oh shit,” you blurt out, immediately setting down your half-finished tea and rushing out the door to speed-walk to your desk, ignoring Mr. Ri’s demand for you to slow down. 
With what little you know of your new boss, he seems like the type to not excuse tardiness, so you take your files, head to HR to retrieve some documents, and then proceed to Hoseok’s office. You try to catch your breath as you head towards the door, which opens before you get to knock, revealing Bitna, the President’s assistant, who greets you with a sweet smile. 
“Hi, ___. I was just about to call you,” she says. “CEO Jeon is inside as well. Just walk in, they’re waiting for you.”
You cross the small hallway as the door gently closes, and you stop in your tracks the moment you hear Jungkook’s voice.
“I still prefer my old assistant,” he says, obviously displeased. “He was very organized, highly educated, and well-traveled. While this Ms. Cho didn’t even study in a top university in Seoul. And Hoseok says she doesn’t know any other foreign languages when that’s one of my requirements.”
“Son, you’re being too harsh,” CEO Jeon chides. “Ms. Cho is a top performing employee, very hardworking and dedicated. She’s worked here for eight years and she imbibes all our values; she knows the company culture and knows the ins and outs of things with how she’s been exposed to them. Ask your cousin; Hoseok speaks highly of her.”
“___ is great, Kook. She’s incredibly organized and highly analytical and observant. She doesn’t need a Seoul education to be good at what we need her to be good at,” Hoseok argues. 
“I still want my old assistant. It’s more convenient that way. Lucas already knows how I work and what I require of him,” Jungkook insists. “I’m just saying that I need things to be efficient and she and I can’t be adjusting to each other when there are multiple projects that I’d much rather give my attention to.”
“And I’m saying that Ms. Cho probably knows more than you do when it comes to these projects,” the elder Jeon counters. “Plus, your old assistant would have to adjust to life in Seoul and that’s harder. It’s just not practical, especially since you’re due to start in a few days. You have other things to worry about. ___ is there to make your life easier. Give her that chance to do her job.”
“But I—”
“Good morning, gentlemen,” you greet, not wanting to hear whatever unfounded things that Jungkook has to say, even if you have your own preconceived notions about him which, you remind yourself, are partly founded. Barely five minutes in and you already can’t stand his judgmental and entitled ass. 
You walk towards the middle of the room where they’re congregated on the couches, with the elder Mr. Jeon and Hoseok smiling at you while Jungkook merely glances at you, his jaw clenched, perhaps irritated at the fact that you’d overheard him completely misjudge and undermine your abilities without even knowing who you are.
“Good morning, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says. “I know you’ve seen him a few times but I’d like you to officially meet my son and the new Vice President, Jungkook.”
Jungkook turns to you with a disinterested look but he doesn’t meet your eyes. You bow as a sign of respect, even if it’s the last thing you think he deserves.  
“My pleasure, Mr. Jeon,” you respond. “I was told that you’d like to proceed with administrative matters this morning. I have all the documents with me and I can explain each one to you before you sign them. I’ve also consolidated all the things you need to know prior to your meetings next week,” you add, handing him an iPad. “This has the resumes of each member of your management support team, including their professional and development goals. Mine are there as well, so you can read about my credentials and achievements in this company the past eight years, which I think have tremendously helped me in performing my duties satisfactorily. There’s also a folder of team profiles of each of the departments you’re overseeing. You’ll also find closure reports of completed projects from the past five years, progress reports of ongoing projects, and approved and working proposals of upcoming ones. I’ve included summaries and key figures for each of them. You may read them prior to your meetings, and if there’s anything missing that you’d like me to include, I can have them ready by the end of the day.”
“Hmm,” Jungkook hums, as he scrolls through all the folders you’ve prepared for him.
In your periphery, you can see the other two men holding in smiles as you seemingly render the younger man speechless, but while he assesses all that you’ve provided to him, you’re given time to observe the man seated before you. Other than his slightly longer hair, not much has changed from when you saw Jungkook in last year’s gala. 
As he drags his tongue across the inside of his cheek with his scrunched eyebrows in judgment, you’re reminded that this is the first time you’ve seen him up close. And even from his angle, you can tell. 
He’s unfairly handsome. 
He’s got dark expressive eyes, soft-looking pink lips, and a sharp jawline that complement his lean figure. You understand why the staff are enamored by him even from afar and - if the rumors about him are true - why women would shoot their shot with him at clubs, in hopes they’d be the lucky one he’d choose to be with for the night.
The illusion breaks, though, as he turns to you with a hardened gaze. 
“I’m sure I’ll find something that’s missing,” he states.
“If they’re relevant and necessary, I can have the files ready by today,” you respond, knowing full well that you’ve included every possible document that would be of use to him. 
“I’ll be the judge of what’s relevant and necessary, Ms. Cho,” he counters. 
“Of course, Mr. Jeon,” you say, conceding. “Whatever it is, then I’ll make sure to have them ready for you as soon as possible.”
Jungkook hums in response, turning his attention to the HR documents this time, breezing through the text and ignoring your brief explanations of the contents before signing at the bottom of the pages. You inform him of sections he’s missed, and he groans at having been corrected but you don’t mind. He’s the one who chose to do all this now and in here, in front of his father and his cousin.
Once he’s done, he hands you the signed files and holds your gaze. “Is there anything else, Ms. Cho?”
“I suppose that is all, Mr. Jeon. Unless there are other things you want to assess, or people you want to ensure are qualified to assist you with your functions,” you say. 
Jungkook huffs in displeasure. You can sense the tension build, as irritation paints his face. It’s at that moment that his father chimes in, suggesting that you introduce him to his team.
“You can maybe also orient him on the current projects and partnerships,” the older man says. 
“That can wait. I’ve had enough of engaging for today,” Jungkook responds, his voice cold, detached. 
“In that case, let me lead you to your floor, Mr. Jeon.”
You step back and wait for him to walk ahead, before you excuse yourself from the older men. You don’t miss the sorry looks on their faces, and you give them a smile as if to say that it’s fine, that Jungkook’s someone you can handle, and his obvious displeasure towards having you as his assistant doesn’t faze you. It doesn’t change the fact that you wish he wasn’t your boss though, or at least, that he wasn’t such a jerk like what he’s being right now.
Walking behind him as you both head towards the elevator, you see the way he carries himself - hands in the pockets of his sleek black trousers, his eyes focused straight ahead, nothing like Hoseok who was always gesticulating as he spoke to you every time you walked side-by-side from one place to another.    
Jungkook stands in front of the doors, seemingly waiting for you to press the buttons and you do it before he could even express his annoyance. You stand in front this time, then make sure you hold the doors open for him to exit, and you resume your spot behind him as you walk down the hallway. 
“On the left are two small meeting rooms and one conference room,” you start, thankful that there’s not much to tour him around on this floor, given that everything is exclusive to the Vice President. “On the right is a seating room, and up ahead is an archive room. Down the—”
“I’ve been here before, Ms. Cho,” Jungkook interjects as he looks at you blankly. “This is my family’s building; I’m very much aware of how the floors look like.”
Not rattled by his disruption, you nod and smile, wanting to show him that whatever intimidation or humiliation he’s trying to make you feel isn’t gonna work on you. You know if you show any sign of frustration, that will just give him a reason to have you replaced and despite your clear dislike for the man, you need this job, especially this position that allows you to pay your rent in a safe part of town and send money to your family every month. At this point, that’s the only thing that will keep you going.
Approaching the management support office, you walk faster and make sure to enter the room before he does, signaling the team with your eyes that their new boss is coming, your silently frantic gaze telling them to be on their best behavior because their usual antics won’t work on Jungkook the way they did with Hoseok. 
Once Jungkook appears, everyone bows and greets him, and you can sense them holding their breaths as they look up, taking him all in. You see him eye each person, and you can tell he’s already assessing them individually. You take it upon yourself to introduce each one, stating their name, where they studied and what course they took, describing their primary role in the team and their specific strengths. You see him follow your words, nodding and humming as you go, and you think he’s processing the information and making sure he remembers them. 
There are no pleasantries; Jungkook just goes straight to the point. 
“I’m sure you have concerns about having a new boss and the changes that come along with it. But I’m here to tell you now that you should get over whatever those are, as I’d like the adjustment period to be as short as possible,” he starts. “My cousin is brilliant at his job and so am I, but we work very differently, so whatever you got used to doing with and for him, don’t expect the same with me. I demand excellence and efficiency from each one of you because that’s what I commit myself to and that’s the only way that this team will be able to do its job. Am I clear?”
“Yes, sir,” the team answers in unison. 
“We commit to those as well, Mr. Jeon,” Manager Lee says. “As the head of your support team, I will make sure that all our deliverables are of high quality and that things will run smoothly so that we may properly do our job of assisting you.”
“That’s good, and that’s what I expect,” Jungkook says, nodding at everyone before walking out the door to head to his office, with you trailing him from behind. 
“Is my room still being sanitized?” He turns to you. 
“Yes, sir.”
“Why did it need to be sanitized? And why today?”
“It’s protocol, sir. We also had a sendoff for Mr. Jung yesterday so the room smelled of food. And he instructed for this to be done today so that I don’t need to come here tomorrow, as he doesn’t like any of his staff working during the weekend,” you reply. “This should be finished this afternoon. I’ve also purchased the oil for your diffusers. The room will be ready for you by Monday.”
Jungkook merely hums and looks around, specifically at your designated area with your desk and shelves at the back, then takes a call before turning to you again to say that he’s heading out to meet his friends.
“Is there anything else you need, Mr. Jeon?” You ask, thankful that you don’t have to deal with him for the rest of the day.
“No.”
“Okay then, sir. I’ll meet you at your apartment at 6:30 AM on Monday. Is that time alright?”
“Sure,” he responds, then turns around and starts walking out. “Just keep your phone on. I work during the weekend.”
He’s gone before you can even respond, and you rush to the support office once you’ve heard the elevator ding that indicates that he’s gone. When you get there, you’re greeted with everyone’s frowns, with Do-hyun close to tears.
“I don’t like him, ___. He looks so unapproachable and too serious!” She complains. “I miss Mr. Jung. Is there an opening in his team? Should I just resign?”
“Aish!” You reprimand her. “Don’t speak like that. And don’t let those few minutes determine everything for you.”
“Well, those few minutes are enough to tell me that I don’t like him. No matter how good-looking he is,” Chin-sun says.
“He is, right!” Do-hyun chirps now, a complete 180 from seconds ago. “I’ve seen him around but I didn’t think he’d be even more handsome up close! It just sucks that he’s a grinch and that makes all the difference. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t have a girlfriend! He’s probably too snobby and—”
“Yah! You really need to stop it with those rumors,” you scold her this time. “That’s your boss. His personal life is none of our business. Where do you even hear these things?”
“Every washroom in this building, basically. Staff are always gossiping there, you know?” Do-hyun responds. 
“And since when do we listen to gossip,” you scowl at her. “Sure, he’s not our favorite person right now but we don’t have the right to make claims about aspects of his life. And where are people even getting those ideas!”
“People talk, I guess,” she shrugs. “And he’s often spotted in clubs with those Kim brothers so maybe they see things. I’m not saying they’re all accurate… just that rumors often have some truth to them, you know?”
“No, I don’t, and we shouldn’t be sticking our noses in places where they shouldn’t be,” you say.
“Fine, but it’s just a heads up,” Do-hyun says, turning serious now. “You’re his executive assistant, and you have no choice but to stick your nose in places because personal and professional lines are often blurred in your situation, and that’s just how our world’s set up.”
“She’s right,” Chin-sun chimes in. “I mean, you need to know his personal schedule, go to his apartment, do errands if you need to, maybe buy a box of condoms if he runs out… You just got lucky that Mr. Jung’s pretty chill and has a wife who’s even nicer than he is. Your only problem was that he was damn scared of everything that moved and wasn't human.”
You’d laugh at the last statement if you could, but you know they’re both right. Hoseok wasn’t perfect, and neither was his marriage, but it never reached a point where you had to be put in a compromising position because you were his assistant who, by nature of your work, had to be privy to some of his personal matters. The most involved you were was when he and A-yeong had an argument and they used you as their messenger, but even that was more of a miscommunication issue than anything serious. They apologized to you after and promised to never put you in that kind of situation again.
But with Jungkook as a single man, you’re unsure what personal business you’d end up being involved in. You just wish it wasn’t something that would test your principles and cause you to lose your job. Regardless, whatever that would be isn’t something you can even really talk about with others.
“Well, I don’t wanna think about any of that right now,” you sigh, knowing you’ve got enough to worry about, such as how you’re going to start surviving everyday assisting a man who clearly doesn’t want you around. 
But if he’s gonna be a hard-head about it, then you’re just going to have to match him. You got to where you are because you’re determined to prove yourself constantly, and you’ll just show him that he needs you, and he doesn’t really have a choice unless he wants to argue with his father. 
You try to encourage your team once more and give Do-hyun that rare hug in comfort before going back to your desk, intent on finishing all the presentations for your briefing with Jungkook next week. You begin setting up his room by mid-afternoon, using a photo of his Singapore office as a basis since you were told that he prefers a certain style for his furniture and decor. You’re no stylist but over an hour after you finish, you think you did pretty good. You were so into designing the space that you didn’t notice the time fly by; before you know it, it’s 6PM, because you can hear A-yeong right outside calling for you.
“Hi,” she chirps, hugging you in greeting. “Are you ready?”
“I’ll just pack my things,” you say, walking to your desk. 
A-yeong takes a peek at the room and praises your efforts. “This looks so different from how it used to be. And that’s good because those cousins have such different tastes. But I think Jungkook will like this. He’s into the masculine and moody vibe, so good job, ___.”
You know that despite her kindness, she wouldn’t lie, and you could only hope that she’s right. You think it looks nice, but it’s what he thinks that matters; you’ll just have to wait until Monday to find out. 
As you’re about to leave, Hoseok appears in the hallway and asks how you are. Your scowl pretty much gives you away.
“I’m sorry about Jungkook, ___. He’s stubborn and a hot-head sometimes but he isn’t always like that, and this isn’t me making excuses for him,” your former boss says. 
“Why, what did he do?” A-yeong asks worriedly. 
“Basically implied that I’m not qualified for this role, among other things,” you respond. “But it’s okay. Not like I haven’t heard that before.”
“And you know that’s not true,” Hoseok comforts you. “He’s not good with change, that’s all, and you know how these appointments were all pretty short notice and he’s just been frustrated ever since. But whatever it is he said, don’t take them to heart. He’ll get a word from me, and he’ll definitely get one from his father.”
You want to say that it’s not easy to just disregard what Jungkook said; he’s your boss after all, and all that matters is what he thinks about you. But you’re not one to air out these feelings to Hoseok now that you’ve experienced a bit of what it’s like, so you just shake your head and ask the older man to let it go.
“He’s probably just tired,” you make an excuse this time, not wanting to discuss further with Hoseok. “And he had that assistant for over five years. I can understand wanting that familiarity and convenience. I’m just gonna have to adjust; there are a lot of things going on right now and he’ll need to focus on the projects, not his compatibility with his assistant.”
“But that matters though,” Hoseok insists. “I got things done because we worked well together. He’s gonna have to meet you in the middle with this one. And I’ll make sure that he does.”
“I know you said you want to look out for me but I don’t think it’s a good idea if you intervene this time, Mr. Jung,” you say, letting him know you’re serious and you mean business. “I’ll be okay, don’t worry about me.”
You give him a comforting smile, and you hope it’s enough to quell Hoseok’s own worries and it works this time. He returns it before letting you and his wife go, and it’s the Thai dinner and incredible desserts that somehow make up for your not-so-great day. 
You think the weekend will give you the peace you need to face your dreaded week - you do your errands and chores on Saturday and go to the market and watch a movie by yourself in the cinema the next day. 
All it took was a text from Jungkook that Sunday evening, asking for copies of certain policies and disapproved proposals from the last five years, that just had to ruin it, as you spend the entire evening consolidating the files, making you already wish it was Friday.
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Jungkook’s apartment building is one of the Jeon properties that you haven’t been to yet, as it’s one of the newer massive residential structures that they built three years ago. You enter the sleek-looking lobby then submit your documents at the reception in exchange for your own access, and you internally marvel at how luxurious everything looks. 
You get to the 42nd floor, and it seems that there are only two units here. You walk towards the one on the right, choosing to be on the safe side by ringing the doorbell. It’s Monday, after all, and it’s your first time here; you don’t want to just enter without him permitting you to do so. 
You’re about to press the button again after a minute of no response, when the door opens and you take a moment to process the sight before you. 
There, standing just a few feet away, is Jungkook with nothing but a pair of black gym shorts on, his taut chest glistening in sweat, and his entire right arm covered in black and colored ink. His hair is damp and ruffled, and it’s probably due to the boxing he’d just done, as evidenced by the wraps on his knuckles and the way he’s panting heavily. 
You get your senses back and look away, not wanting to look affected by his half-naked form, even if you’re the one who has to catch her breath this time because much as you dislike the man, you can’t deny that his body is something that definitely deserves to be praised. 
“You’re here,” he speaks first, surprise laced in his voice as he takes in your obviously flustered form.
“I asked if 6:30 AM was a good time to come, Mr. Jeon,” you answer, glancing at him before looking at whatever you could behind him. “Perhaps I misheard your confirmation. I can wait downstairs if you’re not yet done with your exercise. My apologies for coming in early.”
You don’t actually have anything to be sorry for; he did confirm the time, and he’s the one who decided that working out at this hour was a good idea, knowing that his assistant’s scheduled to come. You would’ve appreciated it if he says you don’t need to apologize, but he doesn’t.
“It’s fine, I just finished,” he huffs. 
He leaves the door open for you to enter then heads straight to the large room on the right, which looks to be an indoor gym. You allow yourself a few seconds to look at his retreating form, quietly gasping as his broad shoulders and slender waist blind you a little, then scolding yourself for doing so. You stay rooted by the kitchen and look around the spacious penthouse as you wait for him to return. He exits the gym wearing a loose white shirt now, combing his hair with his fingers as he drinks a bottle of water.
“So, Mr. Jeon, uh, I would prepare Mr. Jung’s outfits for the week and then help his house staff make his breakfast. I run down his schedule as he eats. Are you okay with the same arrangement?” 
“Sure. I just don’t have any staff with me so you’re on your own. I’m fine with anything though. I’m not usually hungry in the morning,” he says before walking to the other side of the apartment.
You follow him, careful not to enter spaces you’re not given permission to, which is why you stand by his bedroom door before asking to come in. 
“How will you prepare my clothes from there?” He huffs. “Of course you can enter. Just be done before I finish taking a shower.”
You nod shyly and then head to the walk-in closet that thankfully has a separate door from the bathroom. He’s already unpacked his clothes, although not everything has been organized. You spot a few suits that are ready to wear, and you fix those first, taking note of asking him if there are things he wants dry cleaned or pressed. 
You leave his bedroom in time, hearing him slide open the door as you make it out, and proceed to make his breakfast. There’s really not much you can create with what little he has, so you make do with eggs and toast and whatever spread you find in his cupboard.
Jungkook walks into the kitchen not long after, the dark gray suit looking immaculate on him as you expected. Spotting his crooked necktie, you immediately walk up to him to fix it, unaware of how he holds his breath with how close you are. Noticing his body stiffen, you step back right away, apologizing for not asking permission first. 
He looks away and says it’s fine, then sits on the spot at the dining table where you’ve set up his meal. He stares at it for a good few seconds, prompting you to explain yourself.
“That’s… that’s all I could make with what you have, Mr. Jeon,” you say. “I can arrange for online groceries for you, as well as dry clean and pressing for your clothes and—”
“I’m having someone come in to clean my place and do all of that,” he says, as he takes a bite of his food. “So, what’s my week like?”
You start to enumerate the conference and lunch meetings he’ll be having this week, including who they’ll be with and their purpose. They’re mostly with the department leads to discuss updates on processes and current projects, and you’re thankful that Hoseok involved you as much as he did, given that Jungkook’s questions are more specific than you expected. 
Sure, he’s a Jeon and obviously works in the same company, but the Southeast Asian projects are different from the ones being implemented in South Korea, and while he used to oversee overall compliance to design standards, he’ll now be in-charge of setting those very standards this time. As Vice President, he’ll be involved in crafting policies; he’s also free to manage his own construction projects, and that’s what the support team is for. Given his much more expansive role this time, there are more departments and projects to oversee, and definitely more executive decisions to make. 
You suppose it’s why his questions don’t stop, even after he’s cleaned up and you both find yourselves in the backseat of the car and on the way to the office. He looks through the iPad with all the files you gave him, and you see the notes he’s made on them as you turn to him to answer his queries. Even if you know that he’s also still assessing you - perhaps on your knowledge and attention to detail - you can’t help but admire his thoroughness. You may have also cursed him in frustration for making you work on a Sunday, but he seems to have done way more than you, given that he went through all the documents over the weekend. You suddenly don’t feel too annoyed. 
But of course, he has to ruin it again.
“I need these annotated versions of the project and departmental documents ready before my meetings with the respective teams,” Jungkook says, his voice low and stern. “And I expect progress reports to be as detailed as possible, so make sure to check them first before they get to me. The ones you gave need revisions. I believe you’re trained enough to know immediately that these are lacking.”
“Yes, sir,” you respond, noting his instructions on your notebook while internally yelling, given that you’re unsure of the need for them before the meetings. 
Surely, he could give you some time to work on them, but with a meeting with one team in the afternoon and seven more the rest of the week, and on top of the other things you need to do for him, you already know you’ll be cramming to get everything done. 
You try to manage your breathing. Somehow, your habit of pressing your nails against your palm when you're stressed has miraculously come back today. It was something you developed while working under Mrs. Byun, which you eventually got over after working for Hoseok. You feel the anxiety build up, especially as you look at the half crescent marks on your skin, and it’s times like this that you wish your best friends were based in Seoul instead of Busan, so you’d at least have people to comfort you when things are a little tough. 
It’s not to say that work wasn’t overwhelming before. It definitely was, but Hoseok always found a way to make everything bearable and he was always reasonable with what he demanded of you. Now you’re stuck with a man who already makes you feel like your hard work isn’t enough. 
You make it to the office with no other words said and a thick tension in the air. It follows you to the elevator and into Jungkook’s room, where he dismisses you so he can prepare for the first meeting of the day. You rush to your desk and get on with your tasks, making sure to work on the annotated project file that he needs by the afternoon. 
It’s an hour later when you find yourself in the conference room for the meeting with the management support team. You prepped them just 10 minutes earlier, and while you tried to hide your frustration, your unusual lack of energy told them enough that it wasn’t exactly a good start of the day. 
They come in one by one, and you take the time to prepare Jungkook’s coffee, remembering from his former assistant’s notes how he wants it. He’d put it off earlier, given that he prefers to drink his protein shake after his workout, so this is the first time you’re doing it for him.
His eyes flit from the coffee in front of him to you as you place it on the table.
“Two espresso shots and half teaspoon each of milk and sugar,” you state, wanting to confirm that you got it right.
He merely takes a sip, places it down again, and then starts the meeting. 
How bold of you to assume that he’d thank you or even acknowledge it, as if he’d shown you even the tiniest amount of gratitude for anything you've done for him since Friday. Which he hasn’t. 
You let it go and proceed to sit next to him, your eyes and ears ready for what you already predict is gonna be a long meeting. 
It ends over three hours later. As you expected, he had a lot of questions. He made sure that each member had time to explain their current tasks and how they will monitor the projects assigned to them. You didn’t miss the way he’d acknowledged them with “good” and “well done,” and thanked them after they finished. He only nodded at you after your turn, with his eyes barely meeting yours, and for all the confidence you built over the past three years, you can’t process how it’s his non-acknowledgment that’s just going to undo all that. And quite frankly, you’re unsure if that’s on him or if that’s on you. 
Half of the meeting was spent discussing the big project that he wants to take on as Vice President. There’s a property they recently acquired - a non-operational arts center that he wants to revive by adding a performance hall, small theaters, a grand library, function rooms, and a permanent exhibition presenting the buildings that his family had developed over the years to showcase their architectural designs. 
You saw the excitement in your team members’ faces. Hoseok took over with several unfinished projects so you all had to focus on those. Aside from Manager Lee, this is the first time that you’re all handling something new and different. Even you felt the excitement creep in, a welcome emotion given how your day’s been going, but that shattered once he said that he wants it done by June of next year in time for an International Media Festival happening in August. The 12-month period he’s giving is too short with everything he wants to do, and you saw that the team felt the same. 
You go to them after Jungkook leaves for a lunch meeting, and their sighs and pouty faces tell you enough. Mr. Lee does his job of encouraging the team, and you add that you’re all gonna be supporting each other through it all. Sure, you’d have to match Jungkook’s ambition and thoroughness, but you should all take it as a challenge. 
You’re clearly not convinced yourself as the words come out of your mouth, but you don’t have time to debrief with them, as you still have that meeting with the design department that you have to prepare for. You take two biscuits and a cup of tea, and you decide that this is enough to last you throughout lunch, given that you’ll be spending the entirety of it working on the files. 
You don’t realize that an hour and a half have passed until you hear footsteps and see Jungkook’s form appear in the hallway. You stand to greet him, with him asking if you’re done with the annotated documents. 
“I’ll send it in five minutes, sir,” you say, hoping he’ll at least give you that. 
“Okay,” he responds. “Come to my office after you’ve sent it.”
“Yes, sir,” you say, quickly finishing the last two pages once he closes the door. 
You rush to get everything done and click send, then you head to his office and prepare yourself for more questions. It’s quiet inside as you watch him behind the desk, with his legs crossed and his eyebrows furrowed as he reads the document. You answer one of his questions and it’s at that moment when your very empty stomach decides to make itself known.
You freeze on your spot, as the grumbling sound starts low, getting louder for a few beats before it temporarily stops. Your eyes widen in embarrassment, and you press your belly so hard with your fingers in hopes that that would do anything, even if you’re too far gone at this point. Your only hope is that it was all in your head, but Jungkook’s eyes flitting to you tells you otherwise. The only other sound in his room is the air purifier, but it’s not remotely loud enough to drown out your intense hunger. 
It goes again, and all you can do is look away; humiliating yourself was definitely not the plan for your first day as Jeon Jungkook’s assistant.
“Do you need to step away, Ms. Cho?” He asks, not meeting your eyes. 
“Oh, it’s not… uh,” a bowel emergency or something, you want to say. “I just had a busy lunch break.” 
You settle for that, a hint that you’d spent its entirety doing something in such a short notice. Hoseok would always be apologetic whenever he had you do something during your break; he always made up for it with a nice meal as thanks. You doubt you’d get anything close to that from this man.
Jungkook hums and surprisingly doesn’t ask for anything else. He dismisses you and orders you to go ahead and prepare the conference room for the next meeting, and you do just that, dropping by the pantry for a muffin that you eat in four bites, in hopes that it would be enough to shut your stomach for the next three hours. 
Right as you exit, Jungkook picks up his phone to make a call. And then another one.
“Mr. Ri, please pick up the pastries that Ms. Cho ordered at the food hall,” he instructs his chauffeur. “She’s too busy right now.”
“Will do, Mr. Jeon.”
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Taking minutes of a meeting when you’re starving is not a good thing. You know this because you’ve done this so many times, like during monthly executive meetings and the quarterly board meetings that have you spread out thin. It’s also not rare to miss out on lunch because there’s a report to finish or a site to visit; during events, you go on a day with having barely eaten anything. 
But just because you’re used to it, it doesn’t mean that your body has fully adapted, because here you are, eyeing the croissants in front of you, your mouth watering at the gloss and softness of the pastry. They’re so tempting and also out of reach, given that you need to be entirely focused on the discussion that you’re documenting, and munching on something is out of the question. You don’t even know where this is from and you think maybe the design department called for snacks but it’s really not helping your concentration.
You hope the way you’re nibbling your lips doesn’t give you away, but Yoongi from across the table picks it up, as you get a notification of his message.
[From: Min Yoongi] you didn’t have lunch, did you? 
You ignore the prompt on your laptop and respond to him with a look instead. You know your pouty lips will give him his answer, and he merely shakes his head at the confirmation. 
You do your best to shut out the sight and scent of the food before you, absorbing instead the discussion so you can note this down properly with just minimal edits needed. You have a lot of documents to work on for the next few days after all, and that’s on top of the file reorganization that Jungkook asked you to do. 
It works after you hang on by a thread for two and a half hours, a little earlier than you expected to finish. All you want is to sneak out that croissant and maybe some tarts, too, but your heart breaks when you look up and find the boxes empty. 
You let out a sigh, relieved that your boss didn’t hear you because he’s already on the phone and heading out the door. But it’s that same time that a plate of food appears in front of you, and it feels like the gates of heaven have opened. You’re not surprised anymore to find out who it’s from.
“Eat,” Yoongi says from next to you. “I could see your hands shaking from across the table.”
“What about you?” You ask, your lips in a pout once more. 
“You know I don’t eat these things,” he shrugs.
He doesn’t, and you know this, too. You also know he called dibs on these earlier, seeing as his staff were quick to get them, and he’d saved these so he could give them to you. 
“Ten years later and you’re still trying to make sure I eat, huh?” You say, nudging him with your hips to tease.
“If I don’t, who would?” He responds, walking out of the conference room with you. “You have a bad habit of not doing that.”
“Well, duty calls. What can I do?” 
“Take care of yourself even if it’s hard,” he replies. 
“Says the man who rarely does it himself,” you chuckle. 
“You know, the best advice I give are the ones I don’t actually follow, so disregard the fact that I don’t even do what I say because they apparently work,” he says. “But I mean it, ___. Eat this now.”
“Thanks, Yoongi,” you smile, taking a piece of pastry and eating it in two bites. 
Your puffed out cheeks cause him to laugh, and despite still being hungry after this, you suppose it’s enough to not make you faint at this moment. 
“And eat a proper dinner, okay?” He follows up.
“I’ll be off late, so I’ll just grab something from the convenience store,” you say. “That’s as proper as I can afford tonight.”
“Aish, fine,” he shakes his head. “But let me get you coffee at least. Those tarts won’t taste as good without one.”
“That would be life-saving,” you dramatically say. “What did I do to deserve a friend like you?”
“Don’t know. I mean, I’m not that great,” he shrugs. 
You playfully roll your eyes. “I’ll save the compliments once I have the coffee.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he feigns annoyance, gesturing for you to get back to your desk then walking the other direction. 
You take your seat and clean up the document, deciding that you’ll just review the meeting minutes tomorrow so you can get on with other pressing matters. It’s 20 minutes later when Yoongi returns, a tall cup of coffee on one hand and a banana loaf on the other.
“This is all they have left,” he says. “I hope it can last you until tonight.”
“It will,” you smile. “Thank you again. No one looks out for me here as much as you do. And that means a lot, more than you know. I don’t think I would’ve survived all these years without you.”
“Wow, all because of coffee and snacks,” he laughs, teasing. 
“It’s a fair trade. You feed me during my greatest need, I boost your ego,” you tease back. 
“Yeah, whatever,” Yoongi huffs in submission, but you know he enjoys it. 
You’re thankful that after everything that’s happened, you’re still able to maintain the friendship that you created when you were a mere intern and he was just starting out his career. 
“Anyway, I’m quickly meeting Jungkook and I need the portfolio of the contemporary arts institution joint project from 2019. It was VP-led so I assume it’s still here? Unless it’s in the archive room,” he continues.
“It’s within five years so it should be here,” you say, turning to the shelf behind you to confirm. 
You spot what you need and make the attempt to pull it out but your fingers barely even touch the rack.
“Need help?” Yoongi asks.
“And what help could you give, huh?” You tease again, earning you a playful groan.
“You brat.”
You laugh and pull out the small stool you keep for times like this. 
“Just make sure I don’t fall and embarrass myself further today,” you say, climbing up the steps then pulling out the heavy folder. 
You feel Yoongi’s arm move from where it was near your waist to over your head, as he lightens the load. You both try to balance it and laugh at your distorted faces in the process, and it’s moments of relief like this one that you’re glad you’re afforded after a long day like today. 
From inside the room, Jungkook sees you through the window, your eyes crinkling as you laugh along with Yoongi, head of the design department and one of his very few friends in the company. It catches him off guard, as he realizes that since meeting you last Friday, he’s never seen you laugh, much less smile or even have an expression that isn’t agitated or serious.
He knows that that’s probably on him. He’d spoken ill of you after all, something he regretted once he saw the frustration on your face when you made it known that you were in the room with them and had definitely heard everything he said. But he’d been tired and HR confirmed that he could bring Lucas over as his assistant; CEO Jeon was the one who vetoed that decision. 
Jungkook had already mentally prepared himself for the ease of his transition, knowing that he’d be assisted by someone who knows how he works and the quality of outputs he expects, only to come here and be told by his father that the current staff will stay, and that you - someone he’d only heard of as Hoseok’s assistant - will be the one assisting him from now on. Your resume didn’t even impress him.
Jungkook doesn’t like change and when he has to undergo it, he needs as much of what was familiar and convenient to remain; that’s the only bit of control he can have and he hates not being in control of things. You just happened to unluckily be at the receiving end of his anger.
But unlike what he expected, you stood up to him in the subtle ways you could. He’s been so used to people just following him, partly because his way is always the best but also because he commands that respect, and he knows his capabilities enough to know that he deserves it as well. So when you answered back, he felt rattled and just a little bit uneasy. He was unable to backtrack after, but he didn’t really plan to.
That doesn’t mean that he didn’t plan on being a bit of a jerk today, too. He’d been exhausted working over the weekend after going through all the files you gave him that he snoozed his alarm so many times and ended up doing his workout later than he intended. When you rang the doorbell and stood by his door with your skirt and satin top, he suddenly felt lightheaded.
He mentally smacked himself once the thought that your pastel colored outfit brought out your eyes more than the monochrome ensemble from last week floated in his head. He just hated that not only are you thorough with your work, you have to be beautiful, too. He’d never admit to anyone that both of those things make him nervous, and it’s the only reason why he thinks he needs to establish his authority so that he doesn’t get rattled the next time you counter him.
That’s why he demanded more work, which he didn’t intend to take up so much of your time, like your lunch break. He’d seen how your hands shook while you were taking notes during the meeting, prompting him to end the meeting early so you can have something to eat of what he’d bought but he’d left before he could find out if there was anything left for you. 
Maybe there wasn’t enough, as he also witnessed Yoongi hand you what seemed like food with coffee that the man also got for you just minutes ago. The smile you gave him was bright and sincere. Jungkook doesn’t think he’d ever see that directed at him, considering how he’d been to you on his first day, but maybe that’s also good; that could be his defense. Maybe it’d help quell that initial attraction that he doesn’t want and cannot allow at all to grow.
It doesn’t mean it doesn’t agitate him to see you a bit too close with his friend, because with the way you seem so comfortable and with the way that Yoongi sports that rare smile, it almost feels like there’s something there.
Jungkook is the son of the CEO, and having personal relationships within the company isn’t exactly advisable, but he’d gone to university with Yoongi and their introverted personalities instantly clicked. The older man is perhaps the only non-relative company employee that Jungkook kept in touch with when he was in Singapore, not that he even really talked much to his family outside of work anyway.
But in all the years of their friendship, his friend never mentioned any relationship - nor the makings of one - with another staff member. Jungkook hates how his curiosity is slowly getting to him. Maybe a few more moments would tell him more, but something about the scene happening outside his room is making him nervous and uneasy, so he decides to step in.
“Hey, Yoon,” he says as he opens the door. “Can we discuss now? I have to meet my parents for dinner in an hour.”
Your bubble with Yoongi bursts at the sound of Jungkook’s voice, and you immediately return to your seat. Your friend nods at you then enters the room, leaving you the peace and quiet you need to plop down on the floor for a quick snack of your loaf before going back to work, glancing inside every once in a while to see how the two are going, and perhaps confirm the friendship that you didn’t expect the two would have.
“This building is a good starting point,” Yoongi agrees with Jungkook. “If this is the general feel you want for the Arts Center, I can look into other projects and designs and come up with ideas. I’ll just ask ___ for the files I need.”
“You two seem close,” Jungkook says too quickly. 
Leaning back against the chair, Yoongi processes the question that he didn’t expect he’d hear. More than that, he tries to read what’s underneath it, knowing that his friend’s tone of voice and feigned stoic expression mean something more.
“You could say that,” Yoongi replies. “She did say that no one’s looked out for her here as much as I have. And that she wouldn’t have survived all these years without me.”
“So you’re actually friends?”
“Yes.”
“Were you more?”
Yoongi chuckles, the question giving him the answer he’s looking for. Jungkook may often be too serious but he can be transparent sometimes, too.
“Does it matter?” The older man asks.
“Just don’t want to be surprised, that’s all,” Jungkook shrugs. “If there’s an employee relationship happening under my nose, I should at least know.”
“It happens here a lot,” Yoongi responds. “I mean, it gives people something to gossip about but it’s how things are - work sucks sometimes and we want someone to hold at the end of a terrible day.”
Feeling like he won’t get an answer to a question that Jungkook doesn’t know why he felt the need to ask in the first place, he just shakes his head to concede. 
But it’s what prompts Yoongi to reply. 
“We met when she was just an intern,” he says. “We used to take the same bus then found out we both came from Daegu. Then she was employed and we were both on the logistics team before I was reassigned and she got the EA role.”
Jungkook merely hums, taking in the information.
“I also asked her out before,” Yoongi continues, earning him a surprised look from the younger man. “You just can’t help what you feel sometimes, you know?  But she turned me down, said she didn’t want to lead me on because she didn’t feel anything more. She also doesn’t like being involved with a co-worker, so yeah.”
“How are you still friends?”
“Asks the guy who’s still friends with his ex,” Yoongi laughs.
“Chaerin and I are civil, there’s a difference. And we haven’t spoken in years.”
“You loved her, though,” Yoongi counters. “I never got to that point.”
“This isn’t about me,” Jungkook huffs. 
Knowing it’s a topic that his friend doesn’t like talking about, Yoongi relents. “I moved on. That was years ago,” he says. “And it seemed like she needed someone. I mean, she’s not from here and her friends aren’t here, either. She appreciated the friendship even if she said she didn’t think she deserved it. I guess that made me really get over her, you know? That’s all she wanted and needed from me; it was better than not having her around.”
“How brave,” Jungkook remarks. 
“You mean mature?” Yoongi corrects. “Yes, that’s what I am, and it’s the best I could be for her. Especially since she’s got a boss who makes her miss lunch because somehow, there’s just so much to do for your first day on the job.”
“Don’t remind me,” Jungkook groans. 
“I will. Only so you could feel bad.”
“I already do. That’s why I…”
“Bought the pastries,” Yoongi finishes. “I mean, I didn’t order them.”
“Was any even left for her?” Jungkook sighs, remembering how he was internally screaming for you to just get from the box and he’d been the jerk to not offer you some even if it was technically for you.
“Sort of. I put some aside for myself so I could give them to her.”
“You sure you don’t like her anymore?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, an attempt to hide his uneasiness over something he doesn’t understand. He finds you attractive, that’s it. He doesn’t know why his mind searches for more answers.
“You don’t have to like someone romantically to be nice to them, you know?” Yoongi responds. “And she needed it. Heavens know the support she’d need now that she has to deal with your rude ass.”
Jungkook sighs, but the remark is a welcome one because he did tell Yoongi not to treat him differently just because he’s the Vice President now. He also partly agrees. But he sees the effort; his friend wouldn’t call him out for how he does things, so the most he would do is offer help to you. And Jungkook could maybe take advantage of that, as Yoongi stands up to leave.
“Hey, could you, uh, grab dinner for her at the food hall? And not say it’s from me?”
“The food hall’s closed,” Yoongi says.
“The cafe down the street, then?”
“You can’t be fucking serious,” the older man groans. 
But Yoongi knows his friend, knows the distance he creates from the people around him, knows his need to have control over everything, including his feelings, and knows the walls he builds because it’s easier to keep others out rather than do the hard task of letting them into a space that’s become comfortable because he’s been the only one inside for so long.
So Yoongi does as he’s asked. He takes the money then heads to the cafe to order pork cutlets and curry. He returns and sets them on your desk to your surprise, and you ask what it’s for.
“Just thought you deserve more than just convenience store instant noodles and gimbap given the day you’ve had,” he says. 
“Hey, those are delicious,” you pout, but wanting to melt at how good the rice bowl smells. “But thank you, again. I owe you a lot, Yoongi. I mean it.”
“Just make sure to eat on time so I don’t have to buy your dinner again,” he teases. “I mean it. You have to stay healthy, okay?”
“Okay,” you smile brightly. “Get home safe tonight.”
Jungkook glances out the window and holds back a smile himself at how innocent and genuinely happy you look. There’s this joy that you seem to enjoy to yourself and he sees that, he understands that. And somehow that’s enough to lessen the guilt for now. 
He still doesn’t know if he’ll ever see that smile directed at him or if he’d ever want that because of how disarming it is. But seeing it from afar is enough; it’s trivial and short enough to let him bask in it without having to climb out of his walls. He’ll watch you from behind, he thinks. He just wishes he doesn’t push you away in the process.
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angelltheninth · 4 months
Note
okay so yk how sex toys existed during the edo period in Japan? How’s Mizu’s strap game? Can you write for Mizu and fem!reader using a strap on for the first time? I want her to talk me through it 😫 I’d bet she’d be such a tease too.. only pushing the tip inside or rubbing the dildo over your clit and making you beg for it
This is... fascinating knowledge. Thank you for sharing it.
Pairing: Mizu x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, toy use, strap-on, gentle to rough sex, teasing, dirty talk, clit stimulation, praise, slight voice kink, begging, soft dom!Mizu
Word count: 1.8k
Ao3
A/N: I definitely do not think of this. No I do not. You do. Not me. You.
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"A-Are you... really gonna fuck me with that?" You weren't gonna pretend that you're not dripping from looking at the toy and how well it seems to fit on Mizu. "I know I said I'd take your cock if you had it but... I didn't think you'd actually get one."
"It wasn't me. It was Akemi. She uh, I may have gotten drunk one night and told her what you said so she got us this." Mizu was a tiny bit sheepish about this now that she actually had the toy strapped to her. It took both of you to figure how to even put it on.
"I think it looks good on you." You licked the palm of your hand and rolled it down the firm shaft to get it wet and slippery. You weren't expecting for Mizu to gasp and jerk her hips forward into your hand. She couldn't feel your hand but it was clearly doing something for her on some level. It was exciting and scary at the same time. "I'm... a little nervous I'll be honest. Usually it's just your fingers and this is a bit thicker." And not to mention harder.
Mizu nodded in agreement as she placed her hand over yours, moving it faster, "But I know a good girl like you can take it."
Heat bloomed in your cheeks and spread lower, "I didn't say I can't." You grinned up at her, meeting her smirk. Mizu pulled your hand away and gently pushed you down on your back, her hand palming at your pussy, the heel of her hand on your clit and her fingers teasing around your opening.
When she moved forward to do the same thing with the toy you shifted a little backwards. "Is everything okay? We can stop if you don't want to keep going?" All the teasing was gone from her tone, replaced by her soft tone that you were able to hear a lot more then others. "I can do it on the outside first, let you get used to the feeling of... uh... my cock?" The words felt so strange to say. She of course had to pretend to have one for years but this... it's the closest she ever got to actually having one.
"Yeah, talk me through it. I helps when I listen to your voice." She already knew you liked her voice, both of them equally.
"Whatever you say." Her rough hands pushed against your knees so she could push between your legs. The dildo slid over your clit, smooth and wet from your spit. From this angle the tip ended right bellow your belly button. She pulled back down and again rolled it over your clit, making sure you feel the structured tip. "My compliments to the carver, they made this really well. I really want to see your cunt take this. Wonder if I can fit all of it in you?"
The cock may be a work of art but in your view so was the person wearing it. Mizu always looked beautiful to you, whether she had her hair up or down like she did now. You angled your hips a bit upwards, trying to get the tip against your clit some more.
"Patience is a virtue beloved." Her words alone made you stay still. "I want to make sure this, and you, are really wet first okay? Can't have you hurting when I put it in." She cooed but you knew she wanted to tease you more, taking the dildo in her hand and pushing just the tip over your clit. It felt like being hit by lightning over and over, your body jolting because of the constant appliance of pleasure just on that one sensitive spot.
She could just do this and you'd be able to come no problem. The visual of her strap against your clit made your head spin and your legs weak. But that wasn't all she did, she used her fingers to spread your folds so her cock could glide through them, getting coated in your slick every time her hips rolled forward. She was getting herself ready for you, by using you to lube herself up.
"Going to put to the tip in now okay? If you don't like it you can tell me." Mizu wanted to make sure you were as comfortable as possible right now. For all her teasing she could be such a gentle lover when she needed to be. Not even a second after you nodded she spread your pussy open with her thumbs and pressed the tip against you. "Just the tip love, take it for me okay?"
"I can take a lot then that." Well it's more like you really wanted to. Weather you would was up to her to decide. You closed your eyes when the broad tip pushed in, fitting in perfectly. Mizu kept her eyes on your pussy, watching it clamp down and flutter. "Am I being good for you?"
"So good. Yes, you're amazing, just perfect to me." To her. And it was the only person who mattered really. Mizu sunk in a little more, her breath hitching for a second when she saw more of the cock go in. "I need to take these off." You knew she was being serious when she took her chest bindings off. This was getting to her, she was getting excited by getting to fuck you like this. "Can I try to push all of it in? I can't really feel you so you'll have to tell me if it's too much." You could sense by the strain and longing in her voice that she wanted to feel you. She had to use her imagination, recall how your warm cunt enveloped her fingers and try to imagine it now too.
"I think I can take all of it." You really hoped you can take all of it. You raised yourself on your elbows to get as best view as you can when her hips pressed against yours. She was inside you, her strap, her cock was all the way inside of you.
Mizu let out a long sigh, your fingers tightening on your hips. "You really took all of it." One of her hands cradled the back of your head and pulled you a bit more up, "Look at how well you take my cock." She almost sounded like she was bragging. "Oh. Did you miss it?" She pulled back, leaving only the tip in, the surface of the cock glistening with your wetness, "It's so wet right now. You really like it huh?"
You felt the toy push back inside you, you saw it too, it going in until Mizu's hips were against yours again. Your hands found hers and pulled her closer when she tried to pull away.
"Oh. You really, really like this." Mizu chuckled, "I can fuck you harder." Her voice dropped to that spinetingling raspy tone she had when she threatened someone. Except she was threatening you with a very good time right now. "I want to hear you say you want me to fuck you."
You gripped her hands so hard your nails dug into and broke her skin. "I want... you to fuck me hard with your cock, Mizu, please, I need it hard." You weren't shy anymore, you couldn't afford to be when you and Mizu tried something different. You know how much she loved hearing you tell her how you want her, to look at her like she's your everything. It always made her heart hurt from the amount of love in your eyes. "I want to be one with you."
Mizu had a lot of libito when it came down to it. She didn't get to express it a lot, she didn't even care about sex for years, it was the last thing on her mind. But now that her life was a peaceful she could let her desires out. Her hand ran up to your chest, feeling your breast for a moment but more focused on your heartbeat.
"I'll pound you so hard the only thing you'll scream is my name." You could see the desire darkening her blue eyes. Mizu angled her hips so every inch of her cock stimulated your inner walls perfectly.
The constant thrust felt so good you wrapped your legs around her hips, you wanted her close to you. Mizu grunted and pushed them aside, murmuring about not being able to pull back if they're closed around her like that. You positively purred at the fullness and smacking of her thighs against yours. Your cunt clenched hard around the invading toy, pressing hard around it.
Mizu took a deep breath when she saw your pussy clenching around the dildo, "I wish I could feel you. Fuck, I want to feel your pussy around my cock. I know it'd feel so good, so warm and slippery and inviting for me."
"Fuck. More." Your legs tried to close around her again, her hands immediately flying down to hold them open. You struggled against her grip, the way at which her cock rammed at your insides making you whimper in desperation.
She started a quicker pace that made it impossible for you to ignore how fast your orgasm was approaching. "I'll give you what you need." Mizu rasped as she took in, devoured the sight of you taking her cock, your pussy eager and spread for her.
You rocked your hips against her vigorously, fucking yourself on the toy until Mizu grabbed your hips and impaled you against her while she pounded into you. Mutual groans and whimpers filled your ears, your turning more and more high-pitched the closer you got.
"Look at me while you come." For someone who usually shied away from eye contact it was very important to her when it was time to see you come. The sharp sounds of Mizu's thighs smacking against yours weren't able to cover the sound of your voice breaking as you came, the white spots invading your vision as your orgasm finally hit. You couldn't tell if Mizu came as well but her voice sure sounded like she did.
She didn't pull away until she saw your body still on the bed. She took the toy out slower then she usually did her fingers. Once again her eyes looked down, glued on the way your cunt closed around nothing. "Do you want more?" One orgasm was never enough for Mizu. But given that this was the first time you got this intense she knew she shouldn't push it.
"Not unless you want to break me." The silence was way too loud, "W-Wait... do you?"
"No! I... it felt good seeing you want something of mine so much. I wouldn't mind seeing it again soon." She scrambled to put the toy away as quickly as possible, "I'll have to clean that later, but could I hug you now?"
It was a silly question. The only way you could answer was by finally getting to wrap your legs around her, and your arms too, until you melted against each other. "I'll give you the world if you want it."
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gentaro-kinniecom · 2 months
Text
Love and deepspace hcs!☆
Characters: Rafayel, Xavier and Zayne
C/w: none! Fluffy head canons for the main love interests in game!
A/n: hi guys! It’s been quite a long time :) i hope everyone has been doing well! Recently I’ve been obsessed with this game, the graphics and art is so good..hope you all enjoy!
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Rafayel;
Apart from being sassy, deep down Rafayel loves your company. You’re the only one who stands him, despite his “bratty humor”, and more so how he wants to be your center of attention 100% of the time
Rafayel adores aquarium dates, or ones that involve his art, like an art exhibit that he meticulously prepared with his entire being. He thinks you’re cute whenever you point at one of his paintings; the same one that he dedicated for you
The only thing he expects from you the most is your time and dedication like said before, although, he loves it when you buy him things like fruits or ocean-themed plushies (even if he doesn’t admit to having 5 plushies on his bed)
Rafayel will definitely tease you by saying he didn’t get you anything when he’s not even trying to hide the jewelry box behind his back. Which in fact, is filled with family heirlooms and things like jellyfish inspired earrings or a whale bracelet..he intends in marrying you one day so it means a lot to him how you accept it!
Has the most exclusive nicknames for you, like his flower, the shine of his eyes, his ocean pearl..they’re mostly related sea terms but nothing out of the ordinary.
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Xavier;
Always has a spare set of pijamas whenever you come over to stay during the night. Sometimes, he’ll match with you while in others, Xavier wears little clothing if it’s a hot summer night
His favorite type of dates is going to the observatory during a cold night, especially if he gets to share a blanket under the stars with you
Xavier is more of a simple guy, he doesn’t like over the top expensive gifts and would prefer things like flowers, a new bedsheet set, plushies…
However, when it comes to gift you things, Xavier would do anything (even if it was impossible to do so) like bringing down a star from the night sky for you. He opts in giving you a star/sun necklace that matched with his moon one
Xavier isn’t used to calling you his, although it’s cute whenever he gets shy, holding your hand while walking under the stars whenever he gets the chance to do so. But his favorite nickname is “his star”
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Zayne;
Even with his busy schedule, Zayne makes time for you, or invites you to spend lunch with him. After all, he was pleased to see you smile while interacting with the restaurant’s cat.
He loves outdoor dates since he’s cooped up in an office most of his time, although Zayne wouldn’t mind inviting you to a restaurant or going to an arcade during the afternoon
Zayne loves to give you jewelry, simple things like charms for your bracelet or rings that end up matching with his and he will never ask for anything back. He actually dislikes seeing you spend money for him, after all, he wouldn’t hesitate to spoil his beloved
Even if he hates it when you spend money on him, Zayne is fond of flowers and keeps some in his home. You also buy him a phone case with a small cat design because his phone is in need of one.
Loves calling you his beloved, even more behind closed doors. Nicknames like my love, dearest, darling are his favorites for you
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chilichilichilipep · 5 months
Note
Carlos pining for norris! reader whenever she comes for a race to support her brother but she’s quite dense no matter how much he tries to impress her then lando catches on to his crush and helps them kinda get togetherrrr OMGG
My Favorite Work of Art – CS55
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Summary: Carlos has been pining after you since he met you, but has to take matters into his own hands to actually get you to notice
Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Norris! artist! reader
Warnings: Longer than my whole schvantz, general yearning, mentions of death, dastardly language, mentions of breakups and cheating (neither committed by Carlos or Reader), maybe a little angst if you squint?, intimate questioning, so much fluff, it's me so of course it's not proofread
Team Radio: Hi lovelies. This one... this one got away from me in ways that I did not expect at ALL. If you are the original nonny and you want me to write something closer to what you submitted please tell me! I will be happy to do it! This is one that I am actually pretty proud of, so please let me know if you like it! I would be open to doing more parts as well. Thank you for taking the time to read this absurdly long team radio before reading this absurdly long fic. Love, E
Read part 2 here
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"Thank you for dinner, Y/N," Carlos smiled at you across the table.
"It's my pleasure!" You beamed back, looking between him and your brother, who sat next to you. "You boys deserve it. I'm so, so proud of you both! A Carlando one-two to end Max's reign of terror is something to celebrate."
The three of you raised your glasses and toasted to a successful Singapore Grand Prix before digging into your meals.
"So, how's business for you lately?" Carlos asked. Yes, he loved your art and even owned a few of your pieces, but really he just wanted to keep listening to you talk. You always had such interesting things to say and he hated that your voice was his favorite song.
"Oh, commissions are fine," you told him before thwacking away Lando's chopsticks with your own as he tried to steal a piece of your chicken. "But I'm having a little bit of art block personally. I want to get pack into portraiture, but I'm really tired of painting self portraits. I'm just by myself so much of the time that I don't have anyone to paint. I need to meet more people in Monaco now that I'm there full time."
"I'd sit for you sometime," Carlos offered, trying to fight the blush climbing his cheeks to the tips of his ears, "if you want."
Your eyes lit up. "Really? I'd love that! When will you be in Monaco next?"
"Um," he struggled, his heart in his throat, "I don't have any definite plans or anything."
"Why don't you come back in a few weeks when Lando comes home? You can stay with us, it'll be fun!"
Carlos' smile showed more teeth than even a dentist would ask for. He looked over to Lando, who had an odd look on his face. "Would that be okay with you, Lando?"
"Oh sure," Lando agreed, suddenly very focused on trying not to smile at his dinner. "That'll be great."
"The fuck are you making that face for?" You ask him, poking him with a chopstick.
"What?" He laughed, fighting back. "I'm not making any face, you terror!"
You rolled your eyes at your brother. Carlos could have died and gone to heaven at how cute you were when you wiggled a little in your seat. "I'm so excited," you told him. Somehow making you this happy felt better than the fact that he just won a grand prix.
--
"So when are you going to tell me that you have a crush on my sister?"
Carlos' doe eyes almost bugged straight out of his head and he froze like a deer in headlights in front of his hotel room door. Maybe if he stayed very, very still, he would become invisible to Lando, who stood behind him in the hotel hallway, arms crossed and very amused. It didn't seem to be working. Carlos cleared his throat. "Uhm, uh, what?"
"When are you going to tell me that you have a crush on my sister?" Lando repeated. He didn't seem angry, he just seemed… Carlos wasn't sure exactly what.
He laughed nervously. "Uh, okay, that's what I thought you said."
"Well?"
"I really don't know what you're talking about, Lando," Carlos lied as he opened his hotel room door and tried to close it before Lando could continue, but the brit was too quick for him, catching the door and pushing his way into the room behind his former teammate.
"I really think you do."
Carlos turned to face Lando for the first time since the uncomfortable conversation began. The younger man's eyes bore into his, waiting for an answer. Carlos realized that there was really no point in lying. "To be honest," he sighed, "I was just sort of waiting for the feelings to go away."
"You've been waiting a year for the feelings to go away?" Lando raised an eyebrow as he flopped down on Carlos' bed.
"It hasn't been a year," Carlos frowned. Lando shot him a look.
"You're kidding right?"
Carlos tried to think back to when he first realized he had feelings for you. If he was really being honest with himself, he'd had feelings for you since he first saw you. That was way more than a year ago. Try four.
It was at Silverstone in 2019. Lando's first home race in F1, and you and your family had shown up in full force to support him. Lando introduced the two of you in the Mclaren garage, and Carlos had had half a mind to scold his teammate for not telling him that his big sister was drop dead gorgeous. Your eyes, your skin, your hair, your laugh, the jokes you made, the questions you asked… everything. You were like breathing. Ever since then, whenever you would turn up in the Mclaren garage before a race, Carlos would try his best to impress you. Even after he left the team, he would always find some excuse to run into you.
Lando smirked, finding a little joy in watching Carlos panic. "That's what I thought. It's okay, Carlos, I'm not upset about it or anything."
"You're not?"
"No. You're a lot nicer than other guys she's been with. But I will be upset if you don't do anything about it."
"Why? She probably doesn't feel the same way, and I really don't want to make things awkward."
Lando leaned forward. "How do you know she doesn't feel the same way?"
"Well if you noticed, I can't have been very subtle over the last few months. She can probably tell and is just being nice."
Lando laughed, much to Carlos' chagrin. "Carlos, something you need to know about Y/N is that she's even denser than you. She's not really one for subtext. Maybe feels the same way you do about her, but you'll never know until you ask!" Carlos sat beside Lando on his bed but said nothing. He felt a little sick to his stomach. Lando nudged him with his shoulder. "Hey, I promise that if I get any indication from her that she's not into you, I'll tell you to call it off. But I really don't anticipate that happening."
Carlos smiled weakly at his former teammate. He liked when they were like this – like brothers – but of course he would never say it. "Thanks, mate," he nudged Lando back. "But don't… don't rush me, okay? I want to… just let me do it when it feels right."
"You're going to look me in the eyes and say that you telling her you 'only won tonight because you wanted to make it exciting for her' is you taking it slow?"
"Oh fuck off."
A few weeks later
Day 1
Carlos and Lando had arrived at the latter's Monaco apartment late at night and gone straight to bed. Now the morning sun beamed in through the guest room window and coaxed Carlos awake. He yawned and stretched before rolling over to check his phone. He had a text from Lando.
Playing padel with Max. Have fun ;)) lmk if you need a buffer.
Carlos rolled his eyes at the message before climbing out of bed and digging through his suitcase until he found a t-shirt. After he slipped it over his head, he padded down the hall to the kitchen to find some coffee and some food. He wondered if Lando even had a coffee maker.
Golden light poured in through the massive windows in the kitchen and living area, and the apartment smelled like you. The space was clean but not pristine, and it was definitely evident that a chaotic mind lived there and had done their best to tidy. Carlos chuckled to himself thinking about you careening around the apartment like a hurricane trying to make it presentable before he and Lando got there.
"Morning, sunshine!"
Carlos just about jumped out of his own skin at the sound of your voice behind him. He whirled around to see you, cheeks sunny, dressed in a white button-down splattered in paint that draped halfway down your bare thighs. You pranced over to him and enveloped him in a hug. "I'm so happy you're here!" You told him, "are you still good to sit for me today?"
"Oh, yeah," Carlos shrugged like it wasn't the singular reason he came. You grinned and released him from your clutches, heading over to the coffee machine on the counter. Thank God, Carlos thought. He wasn't going to be able to make it through today without caffeine.
"Coffee?" you offered, and he accepted. "I'm getting set up now," you told him as you poured. "We can start after you eat if you want? I'm sorry I didn't go shopping before you came, but there's eggs and toast that you're welcome to."
"That's totally fine. Did you eat already?" Carlos asked as he opened the fridge.
"No, I want to get prepped so we can start as soon as possible."
"Y/N, come on, you have to eat."
"Says who?" You smirked, leaning against the counter behind him.
"Says me," Carlos quipped, leaning closer to you. He was finally getting somewhere.
"Bossing me around in my own home?"
"C'mon, let me make you breakfast."
You shrugged and smiled. "Fine, if you insist." Then, much to Carlos' surprise and chagrin, you walked right back down the hall to your studio. "Call me when it's ready! Thanks Chili!" You left him completely dumbfounded in the kitchen. He was going to have to work for this one.
--
Carlos sat in the chair beside your easel in your studio as you got your things in order. He scanned the room, admiring the hanging plants and half finished paintings before noticing the queen mattress in the corner. "Do you sleep in here?"
"Oh, yeah," you hummed absentmindedly. The room you're sleeping in used to be mine, but I decided to move in here. I like to be near my work, and there's something grounding about sleeping so close to the floor."
"Wait, did I kick you out of your room?" He asked, horrified at the thought.
"No, no. I like you, Chili, but I don't like you that much," you joked, unaware that it felt like a knife iin Carlos' gut. "Do you mind if I play some music?"
"Oh, no, do whatever you need," he assured you. Soft jazz fell from the speaker near the mattress as you began to paint. He watched you intently, studying how your face contorted in focus, how your hands handled the brushes and paint like you were performing a magic spell. "Um," he started, "do you usually like silence while you paint someone? Or do you prefer conversation? Because I'm okay with either, I just… wanted to ask."
You smiled at his consideration. "You're sweet to ask. I like a little of both. I don't mind talking in the least, especially with you, but while I'm working if I talk I prefer to have more in-depth conversations. I'm not great with small talk."
As if on cue, Carlos's phone buzzed. It was a text from Lando that included a link at the bottom.
For when she's painting you. 36 questions that will make you fall in love
Carlos reluctantly clicked on the link and scrolled through the article. "In depth conversations, huh?"
"Mhm," you nodded, lips pursed as you focused.
"Okay, well," he glanced down at his phone, "if you could choose anyone in the world, who would you want as a dinner guest?"
A smile pulled at your lips. "That's a good one. Maybe the Smothers Brothers?"
Carlos laughed. "Who?"
"The Smothers Brothers. They're these two American comedians from the 60s and 70s that I really like. My dad has one of their records."
"Why do you want them to come for dinner?"
"Well, I feel like there's no way it wouldn't be a great time, you know? I would have said someone like Lenny Bruce or something, but you know… drugs. Also he's dead." Carlos laughed again. He loved your brain, and he loved how the things you said helped him get to know it. "What about you?"
"I don't know… maybe Ronaldo?"
"That's fair. Has anyone ever told you that you have the most beautiful nose?"
"What?" Carlos sputtered, taken aback both by the topic shift and the question itself.
"Your nose. It's gorgeous. You're a very compelling subject, you know," You told him nonchalantly before glancing away from your painting and at his surprised face. "I take it nobody has ever told you that."
"Charles called me a toucan the other day."
You burst out laughing. It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, and just the sight of your smile brought one to his own mouth. He was completely and utterly fucked. "Oh no," you wheezed, "not a toucan! That's terrible!"
"It's okay. I told him he looked like an Afghan hound."
"Are those the ones that look like free spirited women in their fifties names Susan?"
"Yes."
"That is incredible. Well done, Chili."
Morning bled into afternoon before either of you knew it, conversation so free flowing that it felt like time itself was suspended. The only indication that any time had passed at all was when Lando knocked on the door to remind you to eat lunch. He knew that sometimes your creative flow needed to be broken for you to remember that you had basic needs. While you went to the kitchen to prepare some sandwiches and Carlos got up to stretch, Lando pulled him aside.
"How's it going?" he asked Carlos under his breath.
"Really well," Carlos confirmed.
"Anything… happen?"
"No, but I'm getting there. You still think I should go for it?"
Lando nodded as you came into the room with a plate of sandwiches and stopped in the doorway. "Why do you two look like your in cahoots about something?"
"What is cahoots?" Carlos asked, genuinely confused.
"She thinks we're conspiring to overthrow her," Lando quipped, snatching a sandwich from the plate in your hands. "Might have some guys over to play FIFA later, just FYI. Should I tell them to eat before they come?"
"No, I can cook," You shook your head and tilted the sandwich plate towards Carlos for him to take one. "We'll do a carbonara or something. As long as you're good with me sending you to the store."
"Yeah," Lando waved as he walked out of the studio into his office, "I'm gonna stream, grab me if you need me."
After you finished your lunches, you and Carlos got back to it. You made great progress on your portrait, but the best part was the conversation. It was so natural, so engaging. You talked about everything from getting nervous before making phone calls, to how you thought you might die, to what you were most grateful in your lives. Carlos was almost upset when Charles, Max, and Alex arrived to play video games because it meant you had to start cooking.
"I think we made amazing progress today," you sighed, stepping back to look at the portrait. It was nowhere near done, but was definitely starting to take shape. Carlos rubbed his neck, which was a bit sore from sitting still, and stood behind you, admiring the piece.
"It looks amazing," he praised. "Do you want help with dinner? I don't wanna brag but I make a mean carbonara."
You giggled. "Sure. Thanks for doing all this Chili."
"Anything for you." You smiled, he said it like it was a joke, but he knew that it wasn't. It really wasn't.
Day 2
After following the same morning routine as the previous day, you and Carlos headed into your studio. You fed some jazz through your speaker, lit your scented candle, and got to work again. Carlos hadn't slept particularly well the night before after overhearing what Lando and the other drivers had whispered after he went to bed.
"So has he made a move?" Charles had hissed.
"I've been assured that it's coming," Lando had told him.
"It's taken them long enough. Is Y/N still totally oblivious?" Max had asked.
"Honestly, when I told him to make a move I thought she was, but now I'm not totally sure."
Carlos was pulled from his recollections by you adjusting the angle of his face by grabbing his chin with your hands. Christ, he was fucked. "What is your most treasured memory?" Carlos asked you, selecting the question from the list that Lando had sent him.
"Um," you thought out loud before chewing on your lip and scowling at the portrait, no doubt correcting some error that only you could notice anyway. "As boring as it is, it's probably something mundane. Laughing with friends from college over cheeseburgers at 3 in the morning, dancing with Lando at that F1 gala he brought me to, something like that. I treasure the everyday. Things like flowers on the table, spontaneously dancing with someone, painting you."
Carlos' heart fluttered so strongly that he almost clutched his chest. I love being painted by you, he wanted to say, but "I… I like that," was all that came out. "I've always admired how much appreciation you have for the little things."
"The way I see it, everyone has to do something to make their life worth living. For you it might be racing. It makes you want to stay alive, it keeps you interested. Seeing the wonder in normal things and then making art out of them… that's how I communicate, you know? That's how I feel understood, how I can be sure that someone sees the world through my eyes. For me a life without beauty is just… boring. Does that make sense?"
"It does," Carlos nodded, gazing at you intently. Fuck, he thought. He was in trouble.
"What about you? What's your most treasured memory?"
He thought for a moment, trying not to get distracted by how mesmerizing your brushstrokes seemed to him. "Winning my first karting race is up there. And first F1 race too. The best parts were getting to celebrate with my dad afterwards."
"How is your dad?" You asked.
"He's good, he says hi to you and Lando."
"Hi, Mr. Sainz," you said do nobody in particular. "Okay now I have a question for you. Opposite end of the spectrum."
"Okay," he agreed, awaiting it anxiously.
"What is your worst memory?"
"When Maria died," Carlos answered immediately. It wasn't in doubt. "My mentor. It was just very sudden, nobody expected it. I mean, who has a heart attack at 33, right?"
"That's terrible," you mused. You weren't painting, just listening. "I'm so sorry, Carlos."
"It's okay. What about you?" He asked. He was ready to be done talking about it.
"Mine isn't as serious," you shrugged. "I dated a guy in college that I thought I was going to marry. Turns out he was cheating on me for three out of the four years we were together. But the shittiest part was that he made me feel like it was my fault, you know? Because there were things I wouldn't do, because I wasn't pretty enough to keep his attention. It was pretty brutal."
"That's horrible," Carlos muttered. He didn't just feel sorry for you. Hearing about someone mistreating you actually made him upset. It made him angry. "Did Lando at least beat him up?"
You chuckled softly. "He knew the guy's address. I just chose not to ask questions."
"I'll definitely have to ask him about that. And just for the record, you are pretty enough to keep anyone's attention, Y/N." You met his eyes at the sound of him saying your name. "I'm serious. Bastard must have been blind."
He thought he might have even seen a blush creep into your cheeks. "Thank you, Carlos," you responded softly. You stared at each other, drinking each other in like cold water in the desert. He couldn't help but feel like you weren't just looking at him. You were looking into him, you were staring into his heart.
"What…what um," Carlos stuttered, trying to pull himself back from the edge of loving you, "what do you think is the purest expression of love that you can receive from another person?" It wasn't his fault, it was the next question on the list. Right?
You pulled your eyes off of him and stared intently at your portrait, which stared back at you. "Silliness and dancing."
"That simple, huh?"
"Yeah. Willingness to be silly with me and willingness to slow dance with me. I don't know why that feels almost more intimate to me than sex. I mean, don't get me wrong, sex is great, but… when you're dancing, when you're holding someone and they're holding you, and there's no gratification besides closeness… yeah, that's my answer, I guess. You?"
"Sharing. Sharing food, sharing clothes, sharing experiences. Cooking together, racing each other, letting someone into your favorite activities and being welcomed into theirs."
Even with the jazz music playing in the room it felt like silence before you spoke. "That is really nice. Alright, well, I think we can be done for the night." Carlos looked down at his watch and at the darkness through the window pane. How was it already night? It felt like you'd only just started. "I think this is nearly done. I just need to do some finishing touches tomorrow when my eyes aren't so tired."
Just like the night before, Carlos rose, stretched, and moved to stand behind you and examine your work. He thought it was as beautiful as it could be, considering it was his face. "It's coming together," he grinned down at you. You looked like you were about to say something back to him when the song changed on the speaker.
"Oh, I love this song," you smiled contentedly, swaying a in place a little to the rhythm.
"What is it?"
"Again by Doris Day," you told him. With a sudden burst of bravery, Carlos stepped between you and your painting, swaying at the same pace as you, and took you in his arms to dance. Neither of you said anything, there was nothing to say, you just…danced. Carlos was a good dancer. You both gazed into each others' eyes for a moment before you slowly rested your head against his chest.
Carlos' brain was short-circuiting, his heart was going haywire, but somehow his body felt calm. You were in his arms and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. The song faded out and your swaying followed suit and then you stood there, still silent. He waited for you to look up at him, mustering up all the courage he could find to lean down and kiss you, when you said, "We should probably get some rest."
Record scratch.
Carlos let his arms fall to his sides and you did the same. "Yeah, probably," he managed, "I'll see you in the morning."
Day 3
Breakfast, jazz, candle, showtime. Your morning routine with Carlos had become dangerously domestic. It put him in danger of never being able to live without you pouring him coffee and eating the eggs he made for you, just the way you liked them. You looked at him inquisitively as he sat down in his chair for the final day of painting.
"You look tired," you told him.
"I couldn't fall asleep for a while last night," Carlos admitted. "It's okay though, I'm fine."
"If you say so," you shrugged, beginning once more to put paint to canvas.
"Hmm, okay, what to talk about today," Carlos stealthily tried to scan through the list of questions. "Okay, tell me about an embarrassing moment in your life."
"Trying to humiliate me, Sainz?"
"Always." He laughed. Never, he thought.
"Okay, one time I was sick on an overnight school trip to Rome, and I was staying in a hotel room with three other girls. I don't know what I was sick with, I've never been sick like that in my life, but I remember waking up and needing to pee, so I started walking to the bathroom and before I could get there I peed my pants. I just… there was no warning. I didn't even need to go that bad. Turns out one of the girls, who was extremely popular, was awake and saw it. Safe to say I was ostracized from her group of friends after that."
"That's horrible," Carlos couldn't help but laugh, "how old were you?"
"I was seventeen."
"Seventeen?!"
"I was sick!"
"Ay dios mio, that's so bad. Mine is not nearly as terrible as yours."
"Well, share anyway please, I don't want my pee story floating around in the air by itself."
"When I was probably fourteen I tripped and fell off of the podium at a karting race."
"That's not that bad."
"Does it help you to know that I faceplanted and broke my trophy?"
"A little, yeah."
A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you worked, filled only with the crooning of Chet Baker, the swiping of brushstrokes, and the muffled voices of Lando and his padel buddies mulling around in the kitchen after their match. But Carlos could watch you forever. His heart started to slam against his ribs so hard he thought it might actually escape.
"If you were going to die tomorrow, what's one thing you'd want to confess?" you asked him out of the blue. He stared at you for a moment. You had just given him the perfect window, but after last night, after you'd stopped him from leaning in, was it really such a good idea?
"I feel strange when you're around."
"Huh?"
"That's what I would confess," he emphasized.
"You feel strange? Do you have a fever or something?" You set down your brush to press the back of your hand to his forehead, then his cheek. He reached up and caught it, holding it to his face before looking directly and unwaveringly into your eyes.
"No, Y/N, I'm not sick. I'm just saying that... I'd confess that I feel strange when you're around. I'd confess that I feel your absence in everything I do alone, in everywhere I go without you. I'd confess that every time you come to a race I try to impress you, to get your attention. I'd confess that I've… I've liked you for a really long time, but since you started this portrait, since we've been spending these days together…" He trailed off, eyes still locked on yours. They were filled with shock and something he couldn't read. He let the pair of you sit in the gravity of what he had said.
"I'd confess…" you began, startling him a little, "… that I think I might be falling in love with you."
He didn't need to hear another word. Instead, he reached for your face and pulled you down to kiss you fiercely. It was like you were oxygen and he'd been holding his breath. You sank down to sit on his lap, raking your fingers through his hair and undoubtedly getting paint on him. You moaned quietly when he pulled away, desperate for more of him.
"Can I ask you one more question?" He breathed, and you nodded. "Did you really not know?"
"I really didn't know. I hoped, but I didn't know," you confessed to him, and he shook his head in disbelief.
"Unbelievable. I must be smoother than I thought."
"Well you are the smooth operator."
He smirked and grasped the back of your neck firmly. "Mi pequeña boba hermosa," he whispered against your lips before kissing them again, basking in the glory of finally getting to touch you.
"What are we going to tell Lando?" You mumbled, the painting beside you long forgotten.
"I have a feeling Lando already knows," Carlos told you.
"What?"
"Listen," he told you, and you did. The chatter in the kitchen had stopped, but was soon replaced with your brother's voice hissing from the other side of the door,
"Shit, they're onto us!"
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felicitystreaks · 1 month
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⋆.ೃ࿔*:・ texting: part 2 - simon “ghost” riley x artist!reader
more texting cause i absolutely love it and i’m too lazy to write! sorry if it’s too long 😭 also simon MIGHT be a bit ooc here but frankly idc! i just think if he had the chance he would be a big old softie! sorry for any mistakes or typos, too lazy to edit!!
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simon does not worry, especially not over a woman he just met. no, simon is calm and collected as always.
…is what he’s trying to tell himself. it’s been a few days since your last text which is uncharacteristic of you. since last week, you texted simon non-stop. he should be annoyed by you, fuck he should’ve blocked your number by now. but something about you drew simon in. he’s convinced that you must have enchanted him with some sort of spell with that sweet voice of yours.
soap and gaz, ever the nosy bastards, repeatedly ask simon about you.
“how’s it going with your girl mate?”
“not my girl.”
“aye! how’s it going with the lady?”
“not my lady.”
yet simon would be lying to himself if he wasn’t in the least bit troubled on what to do. should he text you first? would it be too much? would you ignore her? it had gotten so bad he had to ask soap for advice, who looked at simon as if he spouted two heads.
after a while of begging asking the scot for advice, he would basically tell simon to “fucking get your head out of yer ass and text the lass!”
throwing all his pride out of the window, simon texted you.
Been a while since we last chatted. You alright?
you responded immediately.
yes! i’ve just been so busy preparing for the upcoming art festival that i haven’t texted you or anyone for the matter. i was way too focused on getting my art done lmao!! i’m so sorry :(
Don’t be sorry. It’s fine.
did you miss me?🤭
no he didn’t. yes he did.
Hardly. Just wondered why my phone wasn’t buzzing every second of the day.
Had to turn it on silent for the first time. My bunkmates wouldn’t stop complaining about the noise.
that was a lie, soap didn’t care at all. that was simons weak attempt at pushing you away. when you didn’t type for a few moments, he thought it actually worked.
It’s fine though. I don’t mind it.
yeah, he’s in too deep.
you better not! i was actually going to ask you something if you’re interested?
Shoot.
would you like to come to the art fair this weekend? i’m going to a vendor and i would love for you to be there and see some of my art!
i actually a surprise for you :) but you would have to come!!
oh god. out of all the things simon expected you to say, he did not think you would ask him that. a plethora of emotions ran through him. he should say no, but he couldn’t. it was as if there was a block preventing him to. simon could just imagine your disappointed face behind your phone screen - he instantly hates it. plus, he would be leaving your town in a week or two and be stationed somewhere else for the next mission.
it would be rather nice to see you one last time.
Sure, don’t got anything else to do.
OMG
I DIDNT THINK YOU WOULD SAY YES
ILL TEXT YOU THE DETAILS AND EVERYTHING LATER! GOTTA FINISH UP SOME PIECES!
talk to you later simon 🫶
Have fun.
later that night, soap asked simon if he wanted to come golfing with him and the rest of the 141. when simon said that he was “busy going to an art fair,” gaz had pumped his fist in the air.
“you owe me fifty pounds soap!”
authors note: headcanon that simon has a WAY different texting style when he’s texting soap. he would be way less formal and swearing like a sailor. but he definitely tried keeping all that to a minimum when he texts reader ☹️☹️ UGH I LOVE THEM SM SHE BRINGS OUT THR SWEET SIDE OF HIM!!
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minisugakoobies · 4 months
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Hideaway | KHJ
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Pairing: Hongjoong x Gender Neutral Reader (AFAB) Genre: smut, crack, strangers to lovers, Frat Bro!AU Rating: M (18+) Warnings: smoking/edibles, stoner!hongjoong agenda, woosan side pairing, oral fixation (as in the author reader is obsessed with joong's mouth), to be fair it's a very filthy mouth, dry humping, biting/marking, tit pinching/sucking, fingering, hongjoong goes downtown & eats it like a vulture, aka cunnilingus, wet & messy, cum eating, a tiny bit of exhibitionism, accidental voyeurism Word Count: 7.1K Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own ATZ - they just inspire me
Summary: When your friend keeps dragging you to frat parties, all you want to do is find a place to hide and get high. You definitely don't expect to meet a man with a devilish smile and an even more wicked tongue.
A/N: Hello I'm back with more Ateez! This one's a very self-indulgent fic about getting high with Hongjoong. It all stemmed from discussions with @kiestrokes about what a gorgeous mouth Joong has 🥴 Lokie, I hope you enjoy what you've wrought 😜💕
Unbeta'd as usual. Like this fic? Want me to keep writing Ateez? Please let me know!
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One hour. That’s all San asked of you. Go to a party with him for one hour, because his crush was going to be there, and he needed your support. As his best friend and roommate, how could you say no? 
Two hours into the party, you’re wishing you’d put your foot down. You’re worn out from art studio this week, where it had been your turn to face group critique. Honestly, after that experience, you really don’t want to be around other people for a while. You long to crash on your couch with a stash of junk food and video games and not move until class on Monday. Instead, you’re holding up a wall in a frat house, watching your best friend dance with Wooyoung, the Alpha Tau Zeta brother who’d caught San’s eye. 
You’re happy for San, truly, but a bit surprised at how quickly things escalated from “OMG he’s so cute, do you think he’d dance with me?” to Wooyoung climbing your friend like the mountain he is. San looks completely lovestruck as the other man wraps his arms around his shoulders, and you sigh, resigned to your fate. 
San had promised that you’d leave together, saying he’d treat you to your favorite waffles at your favorite diner after the party, and you’d agreed, but now that means you’re stuck here for god knows how much longer. You could find him and tell him you changed your mind and you’re gonna go. He’d say okay, but he’d say it with that pout of his, and as long as you’ve known San, that pout has owned your weak ass, so there’s really no point. You’ll just wait.
However, hovering like a third wheel isn’t your idea of a good time, so you decide to find somewhere else to hang out. The room is packed with couples grinding, and you weave around them carefully, trying to avoid the beer sloshing about as a girl beside you really puts her back into it. The kitchen is just as cramped as the living room, a beer pong match taking up most of the space, so you keep wandering, until you come to the foyer, where there’s a staircase to the second floor. Wanting to put as much distance between yourself and the loud music, you start to climb. 
It’s much less crowded upstairs. There are a few people scattered along the hallway, talking in small groups, or heading into the bedrooms, all of which have closed doors. You’re a little afraid of what you might walk in on if you open one, so you keep moving, hoping to find a quiet spot to sit and hide. 
Instead, as you round a corner, you come to a dead end. But to your left, there’s a window that’s cracked ajar, night breeze just teasing you with enticing coolness after the rank humidity of the dance floor. You press your palms to the glass, peeking out. It looks like the window opens onto the roof of the back porch. 
Gently, you lift the sash until you can stick your head out. The roof is flat, not sloped. It’s fairly dark, with only the moon above and the string lights crisscrossing the yard providing a pale glow. And, most blessedly, it is devoid of other people.
As quickly as you can, you shimmy out the window.
The backyard is dotted with kiddie pools still full of jello from the last wrestling tournament. In between the pools, the ground is a squishy mess of colorful gelatin and disgusting mud, which means that there are very few partygoers outside right now, besides a handful that you can hear beneath you, hanging out on the porch. But they can’t see you, so you can live with that. 
Settling with your back pressed to the brick wall, you take a deep breath, relaxing. Even though it’s so late in the fall that the weather is already flirting with winter, it’s a nice night to be outside. The air is crisp, but you’re plenty warm in your sweater and jeans, toes tapping idly inside your boots. The moon plays hide and seek behind some passing clouds while you observe contentedly.
“No one’s supposed to be out here.” 
“Fuck!” You jump, so surprised to hear someone address you. The voice came from the shadows of the opposite corner of the roof, where another window mirrors the one you came through. 
There’s a short burst of laughter, and then someone leans into the light. 
Reddish-orange hair hangs over a dark brow, above eyes scrunched nearly closed in glee, further expressed by a full bottom lip twisting upwards in a smirk. As you will your racing heart to ease off, a guy you’ve never seen before carefully steps across the roof. He’s wearing an oversized t-shirt over a long-sleeved striped shirt and jeans. His shirt doesn’t have any letters on it, but he must be a brother here if he’s trying to tell you what to do. 
He’s almost unfairly gorgeous, this stranger who scared you nearly to death, and he’s laughing at you.
You attempt to recover your cool, leaning back against the wall again. “I didn’t see a sign.”
“It’s kind of unsaid.”
“Well, it kind of needs to be said,” you shoot back a little snappily, annoyed that your peace has been shattered. “You’re out here, too, you know.” 
“I live here.” 
“So that’s fine, then?” 
He grins, a wicked thing that has your neck flaming with sudden heat, and slides further out of the darkness, until he’s about an arms-length away. “Ok if I sit here?” 
“I mean, if unspoken rules don’t stop you, what’s me literally saying ‘no’ gonna do?” 
Another quick ratatat of laughter. “You’re funny.” He drops down beside you, tipping his head back to rest against the wall. 
You don’t say anything to his comment, waiting for him to say something else. Like explain why he’s out here or who he is to tell you where you can’t be or anything. A minute passes, then another. You hear the people on the porch heading back into the party and then there’s only the dull thumping of the music inside and the sound of the crickets chirping in the yard. 
You wonder if you should say something to the stranger, maybe explain why you’re out here, but he seems pretty content to sit quietly, and if he’s happy to remain silent, so are you. He doesn’t seem like he’s going to actually kick you off the roof, so you release the tension in your shoulders, inhaling deeply again, and match his pose, staring up at the sky. 
The wind stirs, brushing your cheek with gentle fingers.
“Not into parties?” 
You glance over when he finally speaks. His profile is striking - sharp jawline, straight nose with just the slightest upturn. It makes you wish you had your sketchbook with you. He’d make a lovely model right now, pretty face lit by the soft luminescence of the moon. 
“It’s not that. Just been a long week. I was planning on a quiet night in. But my roommate had other ideas.” 
“And now you’re stuck here, waiting for them?” 
You nod. The stranger hums. 
“Yeah, I can sympathize. Kinda hard to have a quiet night here, like… all the time.” 
It’s your turn to hum. “But… did you not know what you were signing up for when you joined a fraternity?” 
He laughs again. You’re starting to really like the sound. “Do I need to remind you that you’re not supposed to be out here?”
“Do I need to remind you?” 
“Fair.” 
Another comfortable silence. This is your type of stranger - one who respects the sanctity of quiet moments. After a few more minutes, you decide, fuck it, and reach into your crossbody, pulling out your vape pen. You’re not going to get high high while you wait for San, not the way you had planned to do if you were at home melding with the couch, but you can at least take the edge off. 
But before you do, you hold the pen out to the stranger. “Want a hit?” 
He raises an eyebrow, nods.  
Your gaze lingers maybe a few seconds too long as his lips wrap around the mouthpiece, drawing the smoke into his lungs and holding it there for a few seconds. He hands the pen back with an exhaled thanks. 
You take your turn, tipping your face up to momentarily blot out the stars with smoke. The light cherry flavor hangs on your tongue while you hand the pen back over without asking. The stranger takes another lungful.
“So… do you have a name?” 
“Of course I do,” you reply. Dumb questions get dumb answers. “Do you?”
His lips curl into a bright smile. “I do.” 
Another pass. You check your phone, just to make sure San hasn’t sent you any messages. He hasn’t. He’s probably affixed to Wooyoung’s gorgeous face by now.
“Hongjoong,” the stranger says after another inhale. “I’m Hongjoong.” 
“Nice to meet you, Hongjoong. Thanks for not throwing me off your roof.” 
“Thanks for the tokes.” 
He grins at you again, full teeth, and you can’t help but beam back. He really is rather cute - 
“Hongjoong! Are you out here again?”
One of the brothers you’d seen playing pong earlier has his head out the window behind Hongjoong. 
“Yeah, I’m here. What’s up, ‘Hwa?” 
The other man looks past Hongjoong, squinting into the darkness. “Is someone out there with you? You know no one’s suppo-”
“Seonghwa. What do you need?” Hongjoong’s tone shifts, becoming a little authoritative. 
“You better get in here. Mingi’s trying to get everyone to go streaking again.” 
“So?” Your pen is still in Hongjoong’s hand, heading to his lips as he takes another puff. “He’s always trying to do that. No one ever agrees.” 
“So, I guess he thought the best way to convince everyone was by going first. He’s currently doing naked laps around the beer pong table.” Seonghwa frowns. “It’s really throwing off my game.” 
Hongjoong sighs, an exceptionally weary sound. Rising to his feet, he brushes off his jeans. “I better go put a stop to that.” He glances down at you. “If anyone tries to kick you off here, just tell them I said you have my permission.” 
“And I need that?” 
The smirk returns. And then he has the audacity to wink. Before you can catch your breath, he’s climbing back through the window. 
Silence envelops you again. You lift your pen to your lips one more time before tucking it away. 
The minutes tick by.
When the clouds drifting across the stars start to look like tantalizing wisps of cotton candy, seemingly close enough that you could reach out and grab some, your stomach lets out a growl. Maybe you should go grab San away and tell him it’s time to bounce. You’ve done your time. There’s a perfectly golden waffle just waiting for you to drown with syrup at the diner. 
Besides, you can’t wait out here all night for cute boys who may or may not return. As much as you might want to. 
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“Again?” 
Two weeks have come and gone since San dragged you to ATZ. And now here he is, knocking on your bedroom door and giving you his best puppy dog eyes as he informs you that Wooyoung’s invited him to another party tonight. 
“Do you really need me to go? I thought you guys were hitting it off.” The two of them had been exchanging texts like crazy, and had gone on a date last weekend. You hadn’t seen your best friend this giddy in ages. 
“We are. He’s amazing,” San sighs, a faraway look in his eyes. “But I need you there so I have a reason to leave. I don’t want him to think I’m easy.” 
You try, you really, really do, but you can’t stop the laughter that bursts out of you. San has proudly called himself a slut on more than one occasion. In the three years you’ve been besties, you’ve never known him to deny himself some dick. 
“Stop laughing!” San puffs his bottom lip. “I’m serious. I really like him, and I want to take it slow.”
“That’s so sweet,” you coo, pinching his cheeks. He ducks his head with a tiny “aish,” but you know he’s not mad. “But why can’t you just make up a reason not to stay?”
The pout returns. “Because he’s hot and I’m weak. Please, help me out?” 
Sighing, you cross your arms. He’s not the only one without a backbone. “Maybe. What’s in it for me?” 
“I knew you’d ask that.” With a grin, he holds out a small ziploc baggie. “Here.” He tosses it your way. 
It’s a brownie. You grin. “Oh honey, you baked!” 
San returns your smile. “The batch came out a bit stronger than usual, so that’s why it’s just a little square. Half of that is probably enough for you. But if you go with me tonight, I’ll let you have the rest of the pan.” 
And just like that, you find yourself at another party packed full of people. This time, the beer pong table has been replaced with a giant ice luge, with coeds lining up to take their turns slurping jungle juice off the frozen display. You give the luge a wide berth, not wanting the sticky liquid to splash the boots you’re wearing. All the seats in the living room are occupied, and dancers are taking up all the open space left, so again you head upstairs.
Unlike the last time you were here, the roof does not provide you an escape, thanks to the chilly autumn rain that simply won’t let up tonight. It’s like the universe doesn’t want you pulling a Houdini this time. At least you have your brownie with you. You just need to find somewhere to enjoy it while you wait for San. 
The doors to all the rooms on the second floor are closed, so you keep moving, climbing up to the third floor. No one’s in the hallway up here, and there’s a room with the door wide open, so you peek your head in. 
Rows of books line shelves built into the two of the walls, The third has a fireplace, unlit, with photos of the fraternity brothers hanging above the mantle. There’s a rather nice overstuffed couch and a pair of high-backed chairs facing the fireplace. 
“These frat boys live like kings,” you murmur to yourself, creeping forward to examine the portraits. Your eye is immediately drawn to one in particular, a redheaded man with a bright smile, whose photo bears the title “President.” 
“I’m having the strangest sense of déjà vu,” a voice suddenly declares. 
Whirling, you find the same man watching you from the doorway. Tonight, he’s wearing a white shirt decorated with big red hearts, unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and a pair of tight jeans. And that sexy smirk of his. 
You frown, clutching your racing heart. “Do you enjoy sneaking up on people like that?”
“Only when they’re somewhere they shouldn’t be.” Hongjoong taps a sign on the door, which declares in extremely big, bold font: ATZ ONLY - KEEP OUT. “It’s clearly stated that this room is off limits. So what’s your excuse tonight?” Though his words are sharp, the gleam in his eye is playful.
Your lips twitch. “That sign probably would’ve worked better if the door had been closed.” You give him an appraising look. “Shouldn’t you be downstairs making sure your brothers keep their clothes on or whatever?” 
While he huffs in amusement, you wander over to one of the walls of books, running your fingers along their spines. They’re all labeled with a year. Grabbing last year’s, you let it fall open to a random page of photos. Wow, some of the brothers appear to be really allergic to shirts - 
Hongjoong snatches the album from your hands, closing it with a snap. “That’s private,” he informs you, slipping the book back into its slot. “And don’t try to change the subject. No one’s allowed in here but myself and my brothers. So come on.” He jerks his head towards the door. 
“Counteroffer,” you say, producing your brownie from your bag. 
Hongjoong pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “What is that?” 
“A brownie.” 
His eyes narrow a little. “Would you say there’s anything special about that brownie?” 
You nod. Hongjoong glances out into the hallway. Then he closes the door. 
“You’re awfully easy to bribe,” you inform him as the two of you settle on the couch, you in one corner, him taking the spot next to you. Carefully, you pull the brownie apart, handing him half. 
“Don’t tell anyone. Can’t have my reputation getting ruined.” He holds his half up. “Cheers.” 
“Cheers,” you giggle, tapping your half against his before taking a bite. 
Hongjoong devours his brownie in mere seconds. A bit of chocolate clings to his lower lip, his tongue flicking out to capture it, and you force yourself to focus on the remainder of your half, so you’re not just sitting there staring openly at his pretty mouth, as much as you’d like to. 
“So, is this your thing? Going to parties just to hide and get high?” 
“Ha, no. Not normally. But my roommate keeps insisting that I come with him.” 
“And where is your roommate now?”
You snort, licking crumbs from your fingertips. “Probably suctioned to Wooyoung’s face.” 
Hongjoong laughs. “Ah, you’re friends with San? He seems like a great guy, from what Woo’s told us.” 
“Woo talks about him?” You can’t wait to tell San. You can hear his bashful giggles now. 
“Yeah. He won’t shut up about him, actually. It’s nice, but it’s also annoying as fuck.” Hongjoong winces. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be so blunt.” 
“No, it’s fine, I get it. I love San, but I can only take so much puppy love before I get nauseous.” 
“Exactly.” Hongjoong grins. He sinks down further into the couch, legs spreading open as he gets more comfortable. 
The two of you are quiet for a moment, long enough for your brain to start asking questions. Is he planning on staying here with you? You’d kinda figured he’d eat the brownie and then go. Shouldn’t he be down at the party, if he’s the president of the frat? 
“You know, you don’t have to babysit me. I’m not gonna do anything in here but melt into the couch for a little while.” 
Hongjoong shrugs. His left hand plays in the rip above the knee in his jeans. “It’s not that I’m afraid you’re gonna do something. It’s just…” he trails off for a few seconds, lost in thought. “I’m not in a party mood tonight. You might not have been trying to hide, but I was.”  
“Oh. Shit. Do you - would you rather that I leave, so you can be alone?” 
He shakes his head. “Nah, you can stay. If you want to. I don’t mind your company.” 
“Oh,” you say again, in surprise. Something flutters in your chest when he looks at you. “Okay.” 
Hongjoong’s fingers return to the tear in his jeans, picking at the strings. “So… do I get to learn your name tonight?”
Oh, right. You’d never actually introduced yourself on the roof. 
He peers at you, clearly waiting for your answer, and the flutter gets stronger. What is it about his gaze that makes you want to tease him? 
“I don’t know,” you sigh, tilting your head as you look at him. “Have you earned it?” 
His eyebrow quirks slightly. “Didn’t know I had to.” 
You merely shrug, biting back a grin. He focuses on the wall opposite the couch, mulling over your words, while you sit beside him, primly arranging your skirt over your tights-covered thighs. The couch is ridiculously cushy and you’re already starting to relax into it. 
“If you won’t tell me, I’ll just go downstairs and find San,” he says after a moment. 
“That’s cheating!”
“Oh, does that upset the rule breaker?” He clutches his chest in mock horror, grinning when you laugh. “Excuse the fuck out of me.” 
“I’m not a rule breaker. I just…” you falter for an explanation.
“Don’t care for parties and prefer pot over people.” 
Hongjoong cracks up at the face you make in response to his too correct reading of you. 
“You’re doing a terrible job of earning my name, just for your information,” you sniff, but when he laughs harder, bumping his shoulder into yours, you cave, giggling. He doesn’t move away when the laughter tapers off.
You make a little small talk. The usual stuff - what’s your major, where are you from, etc. He’s a music production major and apparently spends all his time in the studio, on the opposite side of campus from where your art studio is located. No wonder you’ve never seen him around before. 
Eventually the room falls silent again. If it weren’t for the thumping coming through the floor, you could almost forget there are other people in the house. You let your eyes fall shut for a moment, ears straining to make out the music drifting from the first floor. It’s only the drums and bass that you can catch, something pulsating and rhythmic. Hypnotic, lulling you further into relaxation. 
That’s when you feel it. That telltale body buzz that starts in your feet and spreads all over. Your thoughts become a little floaty, each one drifting away before you can really grasp them, and you turn to Hongjoong. 
“I think I found the drugs,” you giggle. 
Hongjoong lets out a single “ha” from deep in his chest, and then he hums. You let your head fall back against the couch and close your eyes.
“Oh shit, there they are,” you hear Hongjoong say, with another laugh, and you start to giggle again, and when you look at him, he’s watching you, and you wonder what it would be like to kiss him right now, with his face so close to yours. His lips look very kissable, meant to be nibbled and sucked. You long to, biting your own lip as you fantasize about his taste.  
Hongjoong sighs. “Damn, I feel good. Thank you. You’re officially my favorite trespasser.”
“Is that a long list?” 
His grin widens. “Longer than you’d think.” His eyelids lower a little as he leans closer. The air feels like it’s heating up around you now. Your skin tingles from your high, and it only increases when Hongjoong’s fingers cup your chin. “Can I kiss you?”
“Why?” is what flies out of your mouth in surprise, even though you’re dying to feel his lips on yours.
“Because I like kissing pretty people when I’m high.” 
Heat pools in your belly, and you shift on the couch, reaching for him. As your fingers twist in his shirt, your mouths connect. It’s a slow, wet kiss, tongues warm against each other, rolling over and around. Messy, but neither of you care, both lost in the sensation. 
When his arms wrap around your back, you slip into his lap, straddling his thighs. His head tilts up to greedily chase your mouth, and you tug his bottom lip with your teeth, shivering at the way he groans. His fingers dig into your shoulder blades as he pulls you down on top of him, so there’s no distance between you, just clothing and heat between you.  
Hongjoong nudges your face with his, getting you to turn your head so he can nibble on your earlobe. His hands fondle your ass beneath your skirt, grabbing and pinching the ample flesh through your tights, while his mouth ripples down your cheek and neck, covering your skin in soft kisses, before finding your lips again. 
It’s been too long since you’ve made out with someone like this. The last few people you kissed with all treated it like an annoying chore, something perfunctory that had to be performed in order to get what they really wanted. Hongjoong holds you like you’re something to be slowly explored, something to be savored, not just used. 
“Feeling good?” He leans back for a second, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he peers at you. His face is flushed, lips darkened from your nipping, and the rather fucked out sight of him has you clutching at his shoulders, desperately pulling his mouth back onto yours.
“So good,” you moan when you come up for air, rolling your hips. He feels so amazing underneath you, hard cock bulging obscenely in his jeans, that you can’t help yourself, humping away mindlessly while you kiss, whining slightly when you can’t quite find the right angle to ease the aching in your clit. 
Hongjoong laughs into your mouth, fingers sliding up to grab your hips. “Slow it down, baby,” he whispers, pressing more kisses along your jawline. With his strong grip, he takes control, guiding you back and forth, slower, but more forcefully, his own hips moving to grind himself up into you. “‘M not going anywhere. Take your time.” 
Your whole body shudders at his words. With another pitiful whimper, you snake your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers into his hair as your mouth dives for his again. 
Take your time. If he insists. With his encouragement, you lose yourself in the languorous pace he’s set, soaking panties rubbing on the rough denim below, friction building, a wave that never crests, just rolls on and on. You know you could do this for hours, make out and dry hump like this, without coming. It takes you much longer to come when you’re stoned, but the orgasms are so intense that it’s always worth it. 
Your fingers brush over his neck and he shudders beneath you. Intrigued, you lower your mouth to his collarbones, picking a spot exposed by his open shirt, and gently bite down. He groans brokenly, hips jerking upwards, and you lick at the same spot a few times, lazy, slow strokes, before sucking, painting his skin with a love mark. 
“Fuck,” he hisses, bucking again, with renewed urgency. Giggling, you sign your work with a light nuzzle before he grabs your chin, frantically bringing your face to his for more kisses, wet and filthy and so sensual that you feel like you’re nearly going feral with desire. 
“Hongjoong,” you whine, needing more of him, greedy hands lacing into his hair. Your sense of touch is so heightened right now that the strands feel like silk wrapping around your fingertips. 
As you moan again, Hongjoong’s hand travels to your neck, fingers playing there, curling and uncurling. “When you say my name like that, you know what it makes me wanna do?” 
“Wha-what?” Your thighs are starting to get damp, covered in slickness from the sound of his husky voice. You grind down harder, gasping in pleasure when he meets your movements with a powerful thrust of his own.
“Sit you on my cock and fuck you stupid.” He bites his lip, looking down at your chest as it jiggles under your sweater. “Let you ride it. Could you do that for me? Ride it real good?”
“Fuck yes!” There’s no hesitation in your answer. It’s all you want right now, to feel him all over you and inside you. Yes, of course you’d be so good for him, because you know he’d be good to you. Even though you’ve only really just met him, you feel it in your soul. 
“I bet you would. Ride it like a fuckin’ champ. Make it bouncy.” His right hand squeezes your ass, making you squeal into his kiss. 
A dreamlike haze hangs over everything now. You stare open-mouthed while his left hand fondles your breast over your sweater. Then he tugs your top up and your bra down, far enough for the cool air to kiss your exposed skin. His deft fingers pinch your nipple sharply for a few painfully pleasurable seconds before his hot tongue replaces them, and your drug-and-lust-addled brain wonders dumbly for a moment who let out such a shameless mewl before you recognize that it was you.  
Time stretches in that surreal way that it does when you’re high, making every minute feel like an eternity. Hongjoong laves his tongue over your other nipple, sucking the pert bud into his mouth, and you keen, head lolling back while pleasure ripples through you. His tongue is magic. You bet he gives good head. You hope you find out. 
Unfortunately, though, while you’re wondering what his mouth would feel like on your cunt, time has not actually stopped, and there is still a party going on. Which you are rudely reminded of when it suddenly spills over into the room, popping the little bubble that you and Hongjoong have been hiding in.
“Don’t worry, no one’s ever in- oh, shit!” 
A loud curse draws your attention away from Hongjoong’s tongue and to the tall brother standing in the doorway, frozen like a deer. There’s a cute coed holding his hand, peeking around him to see what made him yell. 
“Yunho, what the fuck, man?” Hongjoong groans, a scowl twisting his kiss-swollen lips. “Get out!”
You’re moving sluggishly, brain lagging with arousal and what you’re recognizing is a lot of THC for such a small brownie, but Hongjoong seems to have more of his wits about him, as he carefully lets go of your sweater so you’re covered again. He doesn’t try to slide you from his lap, just places his hands on your waist to keep you steady. 
Tall guy’s sputtering now. “I-I’m sorry, the door wasn’t locked, and - “
“It’s fine, Yun, just go, all right?” Hongjoong glances at you. “You okay?”
If you were sober, you’d probably be horrifically embarrassed to be caught tits-out. Might even run for the door so you could go home and hide for the rest of the weekend or month or year. But between the brownie and the man currently checking in with you, you’re feeling too good right now to really give a shit what anyone else thinks. 
You nod at Hongjoong’s question, beaming happily. A crooked smile spreads across Hongjoong’s face, his thumbs etching tiny circles into your sides. 
“Hongjoong?” Yunho’s basically a statue at this point, completely immovable in the doorway. “I know we’re not supposed to let anyone else in here, but seeing as how you have someone else in here, uh… am I gonna get in trouble for this?”  
“If I say no, will you fuckin’ leave already?” Hongjoong glares at the other man, and it does not escape your attention how sexy he looks when he’s mad. 
“I don’t know. I mean, we’ll leave, but I don’t know if you’re just saying that to get me t-”
“Get out!” 
Your sudden shout snaps Yunho into action. He slams the door shut, leaving you alone with Hongjoong, who is gawking at you with his mouth hanging open. Oops. Maybe you shouldn’t have done that.
“Sorry,” you apologize, cringing. “I didn’t mean to shout.” 
“No, that was so hot,” Hongjoong declares, leaning forward to kiss you eagerly. 
“Yeah?” you pant against his lips in surprise.  
He nods, nose jostling yours, and kisses you again, and again, until you’re dizzy, needing oxygen, but you’re unwilling to tear yourself away from his mouth. All you want is to lose yourself in him again, crawl back into that heat from before. 
Just as you feel it starting to happen, he pulls away. 
“We should probably lock the door,” he says, but he doesn’t move. His eyes are studying your face carefully, you realize, looking for any signs of objection. For some reason, that just makes your answer even more affirmative. 
“Good idea,” you reply, slipping off his lap and crossing the room in three quick steps. You shoot him a glance over your shoulder as you twist the lock. Either the pot is slowing his reactions as much as it’s slown yours, or he doesn’t care that you catch him openly staring at your ass. He grips his cock through his jeans, hand flexing as he squeezes slightly. 
His gaze is too intense even from across the room. It makes you shy, has you lowering your head as you return to the couch. His fingers slide under your chin, tilt your face up to meet his ravenous lips as he guides you onto your back. 
Your boots hit the floor one after the other, followed by his sneakers. One of his arms props him up over you. His other hand grips your thigh, spreading your legs apart, allowing him to slot himself in between. He swallows your sigh when his fingers roam inwards, slipping against your core. 
“Damn, baby, did I do all this?” he asks, rubbing at the dampness seeping through the layers of your panties and tights. 
You pluck at the buttons on his shirt, palms skimming over the warm skin that’s revealed beneath. He hisses quietly when you brush over his stomach. Seems it’s not just his neck that’s sensitive. Good to know. 
“Yes,” you nod, squirming slightly when he drops his hand to cup you. His thumb applies a bit of pressure so achingly near your clit that you whine, almost as loudly as you’d yelled before. “Please tell me you’re gonna do something about it.” 
He smirks then, that maddeningly taunting smile of his. The one that tells you not to be fooled by his quiet demeanor. The one that tells you he’s trouble.  “As soon as you tell me your name.” 
His hand drags frustratingly slowly upwards, spreading your slickness as it goes, making you whimper. “Hongjoong!” 
“No, that’s my name.” His fingertips are crawling now, moving closer and closer to the waistband of your tights, one millimeter at a time. 
The anticipation is driving you insane. And it seems you’re not the only one enjoying it, judging by the way he’s rutting his bulge into your thigh.
“Don’t tease,” you complain, pouting. 
“But that’s my favorite part,” he shoots back, grinning madly. Fuck. He’s trouble for sure. 
His fingers trace shapes over your hips, back and forth, long lines that have you huffing in frustration. Then he curls them under the waistband, pulling them down, just the tiniest fraction of an inch, then another, tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip as he looks at you, and then - 
He stops. 
You groan, head tossing back to bounce against the arm of the couch. 
“YN, my name is YN, fuck, I yield!” 
“That didn’t take long,” he gloats. “So desperate for me. I love it.” 
If you weren’t still high, you might be embarrassed. Instead, you’re brazen, whimpering in agreement. You want him, just like he wants you, why bother to hide it? 
He finally releases you from your misery by rolling down all that annoying clothing that separates you from him, tossing it onto the floor. A gentle scrape of his fingernails on your bare skin has you trembling, begging for more of his touch. He obliges, lowering his mouth to leave hot-breathed kisses on your thighs. 
“Y’know what else I like to do when I’m high?” he asks, watching you with hooded eyes. His hands haven’t stopped moving, are languidly pushing your skirt up to your waist. 
“What?”
“Eat pussy.” He licks his lips. “Wanna eat you, baby. Can I?” 
“Please,” you groan, reaching for your skirt, pulling it up as far as you can, baring yourself to him. He grins, fingers spreading you open, and you twitch as the little puffs of his delighted laughter swirl over your sensitive skin. 
Hongjoong flattens his tongue, dragging it up and down a few times. You keen, fingers digging into the wool of your skirt, clutching the material tightly, when he keeps moving up, circling your clit, before he undulates his tongue, making the tiny nub bounce. Then he switches back to licking stripes, pressing the taut muscle more firmly against you with each pass.
You feel like your entire body is pulsating in time with your clit. “Oh my god.” 
“You’re so wet,” he groans happily, lapping without restraint at your pussy, sloppy and loud. “Could fuckin’ drown down here.” 
His mouth. It’s sinful, how good he is with it, the way he kisses your folds and sucks on your clit. Uses it to say the filthiest things, keeping up a running commentary: 
Look at you, dripping all over the place. Such a mess, baby. Let’s see how much wetter you can get.
Could eat this pretty pussy for hours and never get my fill. Got me so greedy.
Mmmph, love the way you taste. Bet you’re even sweeter when you come.
You don’t catch every word, given the way he mumbles them into your cunt, but you hear enough to have you babbling in response, chanting his name and praising his skills over and over. 
When your words dissolve into moans, Hongjoong changes it up, adding his fingers to the mix. His mouth seals around your clit while he strokes inside you, warm walls spreading to allow his lithe digits to plunge in and out. Then he thrusts his tongue into your clenching hole, using his fingertips to roll your thrumming nub around, lightly squeezing as he fucks you with his mouth. 
“Hongjoong!” You’re losing your mind, your entire body vibrating with pleasure. “Holy shit, please!” Can’t even finish your sentence, your foggy brain too busy focusing on holding your head up so you can watch him. Drool runs from the corner of your mouth, lips slack as you pant wildly. 
He laughs, popping off your clit with a loud slurp. “Please what?” He nuzzles his face against your thigh, kissing it gently. “What do you need?”
“I - I need…” You break off with a sudden mewl as he presses insistently into that soft spot on your inner walls, like he’s trying to leave an impression of his fingertip. “Oh fuck, right there, don’t stop!” 
“Don’t worry, I got you,” he vows, catching your eye. His face is a mess, hair damp with sweat, a shiny layer of your arousal smeared all over his mouth and chin. His hips keep rolling into the couch beneath him, and his voice wobbles a little as he speaks, but his gaze is unwavering. “Just lie back and let me do my thing. I’ll get you there.” 
He drops his mouth to your cunt again, and keeps his word. 
Time expands again as the tension inside you snaps. Your orgasm pulsates through you, flowing like a wave through your tingling body, wiping away all coherent thought, even turning your vision white for a few long seconds. Hongjoong’s fingers continue to massage your g-spot while his tongue still flutters over your clit, and you slowly come back to yourself, inhaling deeply before sobbing his name. 
He lifts his head momentarily to observe the results of his hard work. “That’s it, baby. Let go,” he murmurs, tongue skimming down to lap at your release. Lost in ecstasy, you thread your hand through his hair, tugging his face closer to your cunt, and ride out your high on his tongue, hips bucking erratically. He voices his approval with a guttural moan. 
Like any other time you’re high, you come for several minutes, shaking and twitching, panting and moaning. When your pelvis finally ceases moving and your fingers release their grip on his hair, Hongjoong pulls away. He doesn’t sit up, just lays his cheek on your hip, dark eyes scanning your face. 
“I was right. You taste sweet when you cum.” 
Jesus. That mouth. You start to giggle, flustered by his statement, both embarrassed and pleased, and he joins you, head bouncing slightly on your shaking stomach. Suddenly you’re overwhelmed by the need to feel him on top of you, to let his weight press you down, anchor you to reality, so with frantic hands you guide him back up to your waiting mouth. 
His kisses are slower now, softer. He’s still hard beneath his jeans, grinding into you, but it’s not as desperate as it was when he was humping the couch. You slide your hands down his chest, down his stomach, down to where the buttons on this waistband lay.
Hongjoong ignores your little cry of protest when he suddenly draws away, sitting back on his heels and peering down, glimmering eyes merrily taking in the state of you.
“You’re gorgeous,” he tells you, and you believe him. “I’m glad you broke in here tonight.”
Despite yourself, you laugh. “I didn’t break - you know what? Not important.” You prop yourself up on your elbows, staring pointedly at his crotch. “Don’t you need help with that? I’m more than happy to return the favor.” 
He smirks. “The party’s not over yet. We’ll get there.” Your stomach somersaults at the promise laced into his voice. “But speaking of parties…”
Right. Holy shit, there’s still an entire frat partying right outside these walls. Hongjoong’s unbelievable tongue managed to make you forget that for a while. 
“I should probably go downstairs and check on things,” he finishes with a sigh, buttoning his shirt up halfway.
It’s strange, you’re still basking in the afterglow of your climax, and yet you can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. 
It’s just like when you get really high and then eat an entire convenience store’s worth of snacks. Weed makes you insatiable. Hongjoong just gave you an earth-shattering orgasm and you’re already dying for more. 
Maybe you should thank him and let the moment be what it was. 
“Right. Of course.” Begrudgingly, you let him go of him. He rises slowly, stretching and rolling his neck. “Um. That was great. I guess… I guess I’ll see you around?” 
Hongjoong laughs, gesturing for you to stand. “Come on, you’re coming with me.” 
Your heart pounds a quick beat at his smile. 
“Why?” you inquire. “Worried I’ll learn all of Alpha Tau’s deepest darkest secrets if I stay here alone? Think you need to keep an eye on me?” 
“Nah,” he replies, grabbing your hand. You let him tug you to your feet, let him pull hard enough that you crash into him, your palms landing on his chest while he slings his arm around your back to catch you. “I just want to keep my hands on you.”
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© 2023 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.
If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕
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tadc-ragatha · 5 months
Text
Being Their Friend
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TW: Breakdowns/crises (mentioned), knives, swearing, centipedes, bullying, general mental health stuff, Zooble's limbs being (painlessly) moved/stored/body horror
Type: Headcanons
A/N: Hi. These are just for fun; don't get up in arms if they aren't perfect (they can't be anyway, considering how far into the show we are). Requests aren't open (EDIT: they are open now). Spoilers obviously. Includes only the main six because I honestly don't know enough about Caine yet.
Pomni
Being her friend entails a multitude of existential crises. Everyone's trying to find their own way to cope, but expect to be helping her through many a panic attack. She's a hot mess most of the time, and doesn't really know what to do.
As seen in the trailer, she still gets scared of getting hurt, much unlike people like Ragatha who know they can't be harmed by knives or whatever else Caine throws at them. It'd be your job to help calm her down during these situations and help her adjust to not being hurt.
Other than that, I imagine once Pomni gets (semi) used to living in the digital circus you'd spend a lot of time looking for the exit. She definitely wants to get out of there before she becomes abstracted--something she knows is possible with her mental state. She also just wants to get her and everyone else out of there. Even that jackass Jax.
Pomni would take a lot of comfort in the things that connect her to the real world like food. If she offers you some food, you know you're really friends with her. If she had access to drawing/painting equipment or whatnot, I reckon she'd try to draw herself in her real form (if she could remember). She's like to see what you look like, and would compliment you on your appearance.
Ragatha
Ragatha's been in the digital circus for a while, and is much more comfortable with it than some of her other friends (or so she likes to pretend). She's fine with getting hit with knives as seen in her introduction short and likely wouldn't be scared of dying by anything else. As she said, her only fear is centipedes.
Still, it'll be your job to get them out of her room for her. Everyone knows what an arsehole Jax can be, and she sure as hell isn't risking walking into her room to find tens of thousands of them. If you don't do it, she's staying in your room for an indefinite amount of time.
Actually, I think Ragatha would like to have sleepovers anyway. It'd keep her impending thoughts at bay. Even if she doesn't require sleep, it's fun and reminds her of home. Like I said in Pomni's section, I think she'd enjoy drawing or painting. Or any creative visual art really, but especially drawing and painting for the purpose of making pictures of what you look like outside of the digital world.
Though be warned, the sight of her may send her off on a spiral of homesickness. Since Ragatha serves as a kind of rock of stability (as best as her overly optimistic self can), seeing her collapse may cause the others to collapse, too. Except maybe Jax, but it'll be up to you to try and get everyone back together before abstraction happens.
Jax
First of all, I don't know if this is possible. Not only are we so little into the show to really know, but Gooseworx also said he's going to have some really bad scenes. So, I suppose you won the lottery in doing this...Maybe. It really depends on how you look at it.
Because first of all, he's still a massive dick. He's just rude to everyone, so expect nothing different. He'll still be a jerk to you, "prank" you, or really, just straight up bully you. Honestly, half the time you can't even tell this guy is supposed to like you. He doesn't even really say sorry unless it's sarcastic.
The only way you can tell he likes you as a friend is when he gets all up in arms about you being annoyed at him. At first, at least, he's confused as to why you can't just let it go. Over time, though, he gets more in tune with his emotions and starts to mellow out a little.
However, it does come with the perk of having someone who will beat the ever-loving life out of whoever hurt you. Okay, well, not that far--he's got to keep his reputation as someone who doesn't care about other people, so he'll at most just be a bit of a bigger pain in their side. But it's still there.
Things you'd do together include terrorising the other members (or, he tries to get you in on it, anyway), sneaking into people's rooms to snoop around, and all-in-all just being a bit of a pain. But you also do other things; he seems like he's not one for visual arts or theatre, but maybe he could play an instrument and may--very heavy on the "may"--teach you some stuff. Otherwise, I don't think he's an arts guy. He'd enjoy video games, though, if they had those! And going to the digital carnival for thrills along with just exploring the grounds.
Kinger
Kinger would be an interesting friend. I have two routes for this guy based on a theory I saw. Route one follows him actually being on the brink of insanity/abstraction. In this route, you have to make sure he's alright. Just be gentle with him and check up on him every now and then. But don't be in his face all the time. Everyone needs a bit of personal space.
You can still hang out with Kinger, obviously. You can still talk about things you'd normally talk about, whatever that may be. Just don't bring up the abstracted queen (who I shall be calling Queener). It'll bring up some...Bad memories.
Anyways, my second route is this: based on a theory, Kinger is actually one of the more stable ones in the group, and is just pretending to be on the brink of losing it. Basically, if I remember right, he's pretending in order to get out of the activities/shenanigans of the group.
But no matter what his reason for doing it is, he's smart as hell. Having tricked everyone, it'd take a keen eye to figure it out. If you do, he'd be impressed. Once he trusts you enough, the two of you will discuss the other circus members and how to outsmart them secretly. You'll also just hang out, gossip...He feels like a guy who'd be into drama, with his whole being the actual king thing. You two would do some impromptu skits and whatnot to pass the time.
Gangle
Oh, Gangle. What would you do with Gangle? Well, you'd certainly have to be gentle with her. She's a very fragile soul--and also fragile physically--and needs some care. Help her repair her mask, or better yet, stop Jax from breaking it in the first place. In fact, just stop him from doing any mean stuff to her in the first place.
Other than that, Gangle is someone who'd actually enjoy drawing as a hobby and not just a memories thing. She draws anime, and would make you and her anime personas with cool abilities and features like wings and shit. I imagine her art style is very early-mid 2000s anime, with the really big eyes and whatnot.
Anyways, I reckon she'd also write. Mostly fanfiction when she wasn't stuck in the digital world, but since there's no fandoms to write about now she'd start branching out into her own original stories. But don't get me wrong; if anyone was going to write about their friends and fellow members it'd be her. She just hides it somewhere other than her room. Gangle would like to write stories about your sonas going on adventures and saving the world.
Eventually, these stories probably get found by Jax or someone else (but probably Jax). He'd laugh his arse off at them and would run to tell everyone about it. Unless you can absolutely beat the shit out of him, prepare to do some explaining and also comforting for her.
Zooble
Zooble does not give much of a shit about the others. They wouldn't let them die (at least I think so), but they're in no way buddy-buddy with them. In order to be friends with them, you'd have to meet their strict criteria. So, good job on that!
Being friends with them would either involve lots of gossip because they want to talk shit about people and complain, or it'd have no gossip because they honestly couldn't care less about the others. I can't tell. But if you do gossip, I imagine they know a lot about the other members. You'd be filled in on everything they know, too. They've been dying for someone to tell this too.
Zooble's also very particular about their looks, as seen in their introductory short. They have many stored limbs and whatnot to swap around for their mood. Don't mess with their body by switching around their antennae-like things or ripping off their body parts like Jax. They will retaliate.
Going off of this, though, I imagine they're pretty strong. I mean, they choked Jax like that. So, if anyone (him) comes around to piss you off, you best bet they'll be on their way to beat his arse. Though, it probably ends in a tug-of-war with one of their arms.
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secretwritingspot · 4 months
Text
Sleepless Nights- Soft Ending
Pairing: OPLA Sanji x Reader
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Rating/Content Warnings: E/18+ yeah I know I know, FINALLY SOME ACTUAL PORN from the smut writer. But yeah there's...not really fully sex because this is the softer ending but there is something. You'll see.
Summary: The soft ending of Sleepless Nights, Sanji *ahem* helps out Reader with getting to sleep.
Disclaimer(s): Like said above, this definitely isn't full smut like you might be expecting (don't worry, the rough ending gets a LOT more explicit but shh don't tell anyone I told you that). But that said, I'm still quite fond of it and hope y'all will be too!
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"...come here."
His words are barely a whisper when he speaks, keeping his voice as soft and comforting as he can for the time being. He's in motion before you can process it, moving to sit down on one of the galley's more comfortable couches and patting the seat next to him.
Distantly, you feel yourself nod wordlessly and when you swallow, your throat feels tight and your head slightly fuzzy. You can feel your cheeks heating up but everything feels far away and blurry as you sit next to him and stare down, fidgeting with your sleeves.
You don't know how to make the first move or what to expect, if anything, and pray he's better at clearing the awkward tension than you are.
"Can I touch you?"
Though the look in his eyes is almost pleading, his voice stays gentle. He needs you to be certain about this. Needs to know he can have this and wake up able to look at himself in a mirror the morning after.
You nod and hope it's answer enough, your words failing you for the second time that night.
Thankfully it is, and he smiles gently at you like you're a work of art, the most perfect thing he's ever seen. He pulls you into his lap and wraps his free arm around you so that your back is cuddled into his chest as he keeps his voice close, low and comforting.
"Relax, sweetheart. Just relax."
He moves his other hand to your chin and turns your face upwards towards him, and when you finally meet his eyes his breath hitches in his throat.
Breathless. Somehow, you always render him breathless.
Before he can think any better of it he leans down and kisses your jaw, continuing to reassure you along the way as he peppers kisses across your skin. "Take a breath," he instructs gently, pausing for a few seconds before pulling you closer again, his kisses slowly moving down your throat.
Whether it's his words or the affectionate way he touches you, it works- you sigh shakily and relax into his arms, taking a deep breath as you close your eyes and melt into the gentle attention.
You...haven't gotten attention like this in a long, long time.
It makes sense, none of you have. After all, you've been on a ship for months, none of you with a partner on board. It could get...lonely, missing that kind of affection for so long. Even among friends.
Sanji himself was no exception.
His soft hands move up your arms, then across your collarbone. Sanji had an inkling that you had been feeling lonely, and you may not have mentioned it, but it was something he'd always known about you. It made his heart hurt thinking about it- you seemed like the type that could be a bit...needy.
"Shh, that's right darling, just like that. Relax for me, pretty girl."
Still, Sanji knew that those types - people who were needy, who craved affection and love - they don't do so well on pirate ships, even with a crew as lovely as theirs. And it's no shock, really. The sea could get lonely, especially with no one to hold you. But he does his best to make up for that now, all soft touches and softer words. It's hard for him to stop some of his deeper feelings for you from slipping their way into his strings of praise, but he tries.
One of his hands toys with the hem of your shirt before slipping underneath, placing a hand lightly on the bare skin of your waist. You can't help but gasp quietly at the initial, almost overwhelming warmth of his hand on the bare skin of your waist and Sanji coos softly, pressing a kiss to your temple.
"Shhh, that's it, love. Let yourself feel it," he whispers with a small, fond smile as his fingers trail higher up your body, one arm wrapped comfortingly around your waist while the other starts to feel along the bottom edge of your bra. His hands move slowly, taking his time to get a feel for the fabric and all it's details.
To his joy, you do- letting your head fall back to lean against his shoulder with a sigh. He moves his other hand under your shirt with equal caution, not moving other than to get the thin fabric out of the way. The warm hand pressed flat to your stomach caresses reassuringly as the other seems adamant on memorizing every inch of the fabric under your shirt.
You try not to think about how right this all feels.
"I'm going to take good care of you, honey. I'll make sure you get your rest."
His voice is still quiet when he speaks, but now his words carry an undertone of something more raw as he whispers in your ear. His heart aches pleasantly at the way you relax into him, his hands tracing lazy, absent-minded shapes on your skin.
"...a pretty girl like you deserves more than a ship like this, you know."
He hides the emotional admission under an advancement of his touch, sliding a hand into the cup of your bra.
You dissolve into a soft, pretty sigh and arch slightly into his touch. His warm, soft words make you shiver- the idea that you deserve better, that somehow even this, the most wonderful you've felt in months, isn't good enough.
"This ship and I may never be worthy of your perfection, love. But if you need sleep, then you'll get it," he assures as his hand keeps working your chest as he whispers to you, thumbing gently at a nipple as he leans in to press his lips to your throat.
His affection surrounds you in an intoxicating way and you keen softly, melting into him. It feels like Sanji is everywhere- his lips on your neck, leaving affection in the form of peppered kisses as he lavishes you in praise and reassurance. His arms wrapped around you securely, his chest a safe haven to lean into. One of his hands caressing your chest as the other teases his fingers across the skin of your lower tummy, slowly working his way down. You feel completely enveloped in him, absorbed and protected and warm.
Your reaction only encourages Sanji, his words growing husky as things slowly become more intimate, more desperate.
"God, sweetheart. How long has it been since you've felt this way? Since you've had someone take care of you properly?"
"Don't know-"
You admit in a breathless whisper, gasping softly as his hand skates closer and closer to your panties.
His touch makes it hard for you to think, let alone speak. You feel floaty- hazy and fuzzy around the edges and tired, yes, but mostly just warm. He'll take care of you. He'll put you to sleep.
"A while."
"Too long," He whispers back almost immediately, the soft brush of his fingers now just on the edge of your panties. Sanji lets out a low groan at the thought of you being without someone for so long. Sanji was going to fix that.
"You going without this for any amount of time is too long. Let me make up for it, love. You deserve that much, at least."
You can't help but mewl in response to his words, especially now that his fingers are brushing over your panties. Finally, relievingly, he presses the heel of his palm down over your core, applying soft pressure in a way that makes you see stars. The breath leaves your lungs for a moment and you whimper breathlessly, melting.
His hand holds in place for a moment, making you squirm as he teasingly grinds his palm down on your clit. Sanji moves slowly but surely, making sure not to rush too quick. You had been waiting far too long, after all, so a nice slow burn before anything else was probably ideal.
"That feel good, sweetheart?"
You nod hastily, trying to construe just how good it feels before your voice finally comes back to you.
"Perfect," you answer in a breathless whisper, nuzzling into the space beneath his jaw. It really is, it's everything - the gentle pressure of his palm where you need him the most, rubbing in slow, steady circles that make you keen. His other hand massaging your chest, lips and teeth at your neck, nipping softly and whispering in your ear. " 's perfect, Sanji, please."
He hums happily in response, breath catching in his throat at the sight of you. You melt so easily at his touch, like butter in a pan. He thinks if he doesn't get you off right now so you can sleep peacefully he might die of regret, especially since you asked so nicely. He moves his palm in slow circles against your sweet spot in a way that makes you gasp, tracing his nose lightly along the cut of your jaw with a comforting whisper, voice raspy with desire.
"Shh, sweetheart, I've got you. I'll make it all better."
You can already feel yourself working your way up to something as your hips rock back against his hand instinctively and your thighs twitch.
It's so good, it's barely anything at all and yet it's so good, like sugary coffee late in the morning or the warmth of sunlight through windows or a million other things your mind is too tired to conjure right now. It feels like salvation, like a promise of well-earned rest.
Your breaths stutter and catch on the way out and soon each one is a needy whimper, thankful you're too exhausted to be loud as your voice reaches an embarrassingly desperate pitch.
"Shh, sweetheart, let it out," he soothes, tone encouraging and soft and entirely too much. "Come for me."
And you do, the request punctuated by Sanji starting to slowly speed up the circles that his palm grinds into your sex, other hand switching from caressing your curves and simply holding you to thumbing at your nipple at the same time.
The combination of the two feelings is all it takes to push you over the edge, breath catching in your throat with a desperate sort of relief as you finally come undone. It isn't anything intense, but it isn't meant to be- it washes over you in gentle waves, your exhaustion finally starting to sink in as you shiver, riding out the final ebbs and flows of the feeling.
Something about the subtlety of it make it the most beautiful thing Sanji's ever seen.
The way your voice cracks slightly on that final whimper, the way your hips continue to twitch into his palm as you ride it out, the way your thighs tremble and the rest of you just melts, going limp in his arms.
"Atta girl, sweetheart," he whispers, awe-struck.
He keeps moving his hand for a few more moments until your movements finally taper out and you start to relax more deeply against him. He can feel your heart beating, every soft breath, the exhaustion that now hangs in the air, thick and palpable.
In the soft, dark atmosphere of the galley, Sanji moves his hand back up to your waist and simply holds you, the other coming up to comb through your hair as he presses a kiss to your temple.
"You did so wonderfully."
Your only real response to the whispered praise is to hum in satisfaction and mumble something you think was supposed to be words, but you really aren't sure, your sleeplessness finally starting to catch up with you as you're slipping quite quickly.
You're clingy when you come down, he notices, and tucks that fact away in his mind for later when he's feeling romantic. You nuzzle your head into his chest and stay curled up, eyes still closed like you have every intention of falling asleep right then and there.
He would let you, he realizes, looking down at you with a near painful warmth in his chest. Happily.
"...sweet dreams, my love."
He whispers, keeping his voice as quiet as possible to avoid rousing you from the nap you've slipped into and pulling you even closer against him. Though he knows you're already asleep, he can't help but run his fingers through your hair and press tender kisses against your forehead. It's only a few moments later, once his focus is no longer entirely on taking care of you, that his nose twitches.
An odd, acrid smell fills his lungs and permeates the room. Smoke. Something that should be comfortingly familiar twists with the undercurrent of something gone wrong and he cocks his head in an attempt to identify the possible threat before his eyes go wide with an entirely different kind of panic.
Ah, fuck. The rest of the pastries.
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icyg4l · 20 days
Text
PAC: Why Did You Reincarnate as a Woman?
For this Pick-A-Pile, I am going to continue with my Women’s History Month series, where I uplift, inspire and/or relate to women on this platform. This reading is a bit of a life path reading and a past life reading but it’s more general. So take whatever resonates and leave what doesn’t. Without further ado, please pick a pile!
Left-to-Right (1-3):
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Pile 1: If you chose this pile, this is definitely for my girls who like to move around. I think that you’re someone who was meant to be rich, you definitely have expensive taste. In a past life, I think that you were into the esoteric world and into the arts. You dibbled and dabbled in a little bit of this and that. But I don’t think that you were able to find stability in your past life. But you had a clear vision for yourself. So this time, you’ve reincarnated as a woman to gain financial stability and independence from the debts of your past life. In past lives, you could have been non-committal or always wanting to rush into things. And as a result, you reincarnated without ever having a satisfied spirit. As women, we are expected to be the nurturers and sidekicks to men. But you, Pile One, are definitely the main character. You’re a free spirit and a force to be reckoned with. You follow the beat of your own drum. But remember that the goal is to feel happy with where you already are. Your spirit has a lot of fire but don’t burn it out trying to be everywhere all at once. You were born to be the non-comformist and that’s okay.
Signs: Gemini, Taurus, Leo, Sagittarius.
Cards Used: 7 of Cups, 5 of Wands, Queen of Discs, 9 of Discs, 2 of Discs, Ace of Discs, The High Priestess, The Hierophant, 3 of Swords, The Star, 4 of Discs, The World, 8 of Wands and Justice.
extras: beyhive. saweetie. white nails. green eyes. born with heart issues. short-term career path. life path number five. pirates. bohemian style. theatre kid. paint. big city girl.
Pile Two: If you chose this pile, you’re definitely someone who is described as a pure spirit. What’s funny is I channeled those Snapped interviews of people saying their friend was “the light in a dark room”. You have the tendency to make friends easily. You’re very introverted. That’s how it’s supposed to be. In a past life, you could have suffered from depression; perhaps you were in a mental hospital. You were burdened with a reputation that wasn’t true to your character. You were an outcast. Maybe you could predict death & people despised you for it. I think you felt unloved and misunderstood. This life is supposed to be a clean slate for you, Pile Two. I think that there was a lot of gossip about you. But this time, you carried over the scars from being a target of gossip. Maybe you feel like you don’t really have any friends. Maybe you have a weird relationship with trust & you end up trusting the wrong people/none at all. Maybe you keep people at an arms length but you’re still a friend to all. I think that you reincarnated as a woman to reclaim your power and the right to be here on this Earth. You make the world go round, Pile Two. Don’t forget that. Never feel guilty for having fun.
Cards Used: Justice, The Chariot, Knight of Wands, Page of Cups, 3 of Cups, 3 of Discs, King of Wands, 10 of Wands, Queen of Swords, The Magician, Ace of Swords, 9 of Cups, Ace of Cups (RX), Ten of Swords, The High Priestess, 7 of Cups, Queen of Cups and The World (RX).
Signs: Sagittarius, Scorpio, Aquarius, Libra.
extras: nurse. break my soul. ellie goulding. codependency. microsoft. computer geek. smiley emoji. venusian. dmv. pills. fasting. making friends with outcasts. working with autistic children/elderly people.
Pile Three: If you chose this pile, you’re probably a person who struggles with their faith. This doesn’t come from nowhere & it’s not new to you. It’s in fact true to you. Today, you’re described as someone who is rebellious or maybe even lazy, but somehow you never complain about your circumstances. You’re like Trish De La Rosa. You keep a job! But in a past life, you were like a moody teenager. You never really saw the good in things. You were very negative. You held grudges and shunned people if they pissed you off. You could have been a gang member or you were an advocate for civil rights. Either way, your mindset was very black-and-white, no in between. As a result, I feel like you can struggle with following the rules today. I also feel like you have the tendency to be anti-religion/anti-Christianity, which is the basis as to why you struggle with your faith. Someone could have told you that you had “loose” ways as a child and this lit a fire under your ass. Misogyny in the church, but also in general is a reason why you have this fighter spirit. You have a fighter spirit, Pile Three. You’re here as a woman to take back what’s yours. You’re here to help other women realize their worth, reclaim their sexuality and transmute their pain into something beautiful, Pile Three and you will do it successfully.
Cards Used: Nine of Swords, The Star, The Emperor, Ace of Wands (RX), Ten of Swords (RX), Two of Discs, Eight of Cups, Queen of Cups, The Sun (RX), 4 of Discs, The World, 4 of Cups, Justice (RX), 8 of Swords, The Lovers (RX), The Hierophant, Princess of Swords.
Signs: Scorpio, Aries, Capricorn, Pisces.
extras: detention. good luck charlie. rapper. obsessed with cats. megan thee stallion. enough (2002). independent women. scarlet red. queer rights activist.
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ghostlykeyes · 5 months
Note
HI honeyy I love ur blog!!! can u please write the headcanons for kayn and K/da f!reader...how do the two of them explain their relationship to their fans or maybe they give a moment in a few shows?
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HEARTSTEEL KAYN: K/DA READER ♡ Female Reader ♡ SFW, with slight touching/sensuality ♡ No TWs ♡ THIS GOT SO LONG. I am willing to write more for this situation, since I had to cut a lot of my OG ideas to make room for what felt the most important...truly Kayn floods my mind and cannot be expressed or exhausted
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KAYN
When Akali dragged you along to one of Kayn's birthday parties, all she wanted was a drinking buddy to keep her company while Kayn was doing, quote, "birthday boy shit". She wasn't expecting you and Kayn to hit it off so well. She definitely wasn't expecting to find you two wedged in a coat closet, shoving your tongues down each other's throats. She had two words for Kayn as she linked her arm in yours and tugged you out from between a leather jacket and an 80's windbreaker; "Do. not."
But, after two torturously long weeks of you never shutting up about Kayn during rehearsals, and Kayn texting her so much she has to threaten to block him for any sort of peace and quiet (at all hours of the night and day, "hey gimme your hot friend's number", over and over AND OVER AND OVER), Akali comes around. She's just worried for you. Kayn's got quite the reputation, and she doesn't want him to fuck around with you and break your heart. But, she figures, you're both adults, so who is she to stand in the way of whatever you've got going on. So she eventually texts Kayn your number, but not without a warning; "you remember I know martial arts, yeah? and that I can totally kick your fucking ass? don't break my girl's heart dipshit".
On the whole, K/DA supports your budding relationship with Kayn. Even though he's a bit wild, the group's whole thing is about being individual and true to yourself—it seems hypocritical to tell you that you can't be caught holding hands with Kayn in line at Chipotle anymore for the sake of the band's image.
Heartsteel is a bit more tentative about you and Kayn. Alune's nervous to have Kayn dating such a high-profile star when Heartsteel has literally JUST broken onto the scene. But, this is Kayn, after all. What are they going to ask him to do, stop seeing you? He wouldn't listen. Besides, you do seem like a good influence in his life, and if the way his eyes light up whenever he sees your name pop up on his phone screen say anything, he's crazy about you. Eventually Alune sways other management and teams to embrace your relationship, as long as the two of you try to keep it relatively low-key.
If anyone ever implies he's with you to boost Heartsteel's fame or that he's trying to ride K/DA's coattails to the top, Kayn blows up. "We don't need shit from anybody," he sneers, "we're gonna climb to the top all by our fucking selves. Oh, and if you think (Y/N) would settle for anything less than a born rockstar? You're fucking stupid."
For your part, you're more subtle when publicly discussing your relationship with Kayn, but you still shoot down any ideas that he's with you for your status. "Heartsteel definitely doesn't need K/DA's help," you assert. "They're superstars and they're earning their spot on the music scene fair and square."
Kayn is your absolute fucking biggest superfan. He knows your lyrics front-to-back, he shows up to every single event he can, and he even uses Ezreal's Mercari account to snag rare merch that's being resold. Kayn tries to play it cool, but come on. You've seen the amount of posters he tries to hide in his closet. Only a fanboy has a collection like that.
There's hundreds of paparazzi photos of you two floating around on the internet, and Kayn's got a love-hate relationship with that fact. On the one hand, he loves being seen with you—what better way to claim you as his own than a photo of him literally grabbing your ass on the cover of a trashy gossip mag? On the other hand, can't a guy get some goddamn privacy? He hates that he has to share you with anyone, prying 'journalists' included. To make light of it, though, you two have started a little game. You send each other the wildest claims you can find about your relationship, trying to one up the other. Kayn's still winning with the article claiming that he's exercising some kind of mind-control to make you his girlfriend.
Flipping off the camera and open-mouth kissing you is one of Kayn's favorite poses to strike if he notices paparazzi lurking. For your part? You're just happy for his attention.
Kayn loves when you sneak into his shows. You usually have to wear a hoodie and go incognito to avoid getting mobbed, but don't worry, Kayn can pick you out of a crowd no matter what you're wearing. Sometimes, if you're standing close enough to the stage, he'll take off his shirt and toss it at you. He gets off on the attention, on thousands of people all-but-worshipping him, and if his favorite person is in the throng, knowing his worst parts but screaming for him alongside everyone else, just the same? Ego-boost of the fucking century. He may not express it to you often, but he really, really appreciates when you come see his shows.
Your packed schedules present a challenge, and Kayn despises the fact that you're often touring hours away from him. He still tries to talk to you as much as possible, even if it's not in person. Expect daily FaceTime calls, frequent Discord DM's, and around the clock blurry pictures of Kayn causing mischief.
Bless Akali's heart because Kayn absolutely harasses her about you. Whenever you're busy, he bugs her; "tell my gf to come back from the ded". Anytime you're on tour, he Venmoes her money to buy you your favorite fast food. She complains to you constantly—"tell your purse dog to stop yipping at me"— but really, she doesn't mind spoiling you by proxy. She's just happy that Kayn dotes on you so much.
Kayn jokes about making you late for rehearsal a lot—especially if he's halfway down your neck in a heated makeout sesh—but the truth is, that's never going to happen. Sure, he dicks around a lot, but he never gives less than one-hundred-and-ten to Heartsteel and he's not about to let you slack off, either. That includes making sure you get to your K/DA commitments on time (even if your neck is littered with hickies).
Kayn loves when you show him your choreography. He listens intently as you explain how to go through the steps, or complain about what you're struggling with. Often, he'll offer critique; "you look a little off-balance, try standing this way," or "Have you tried positioning a little more to the left?". Sometimes, these are genuine tips. Most of the time, though, he's just looking for an excuse to feel you up. What better way to sneakily touch your boobs than "suggesting" your chest needs to come out more?
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eyesxxyou · 4 months
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i need more gladiator miguel that was SO GOOD OMG
I gotcha cuz I've definitely got more ideas
💾 gladiator!Miguel x reader
❝ warnings ❞ sex, lots of sex, a little angst at the end
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Gladiator!Miguel who you soon after hired to be a bodyguard for you to keep him close. He’s a good man, a strong one, and talented with a sword. You’d want no one else protecting you.
Gladiator!Miguel who is in attendance with you everywhere. In your bed chambers, in your bath house. So many opportunities with you alone, so many times he’s gotten to fuck you without any eyes nearby to catch the two of you in the act. You’re so good at tempting him, with sultry eyes and gently parted lips as you stand in the buttermilk waters of your bath and coax him closer.
You end up leaning against the edge of the bath with one leg over his shoulder and the other between his legs as he shoves his cock in and out of your pretty, tight hole. He claims it as his own, that unused entrance of yours as tight as a vice around him, and you let him because you want to be his so desperately.
“Fuck– Miguel! Please…right there.” You whimper as he pounds you in and leaves you trembling. You always get so hot looking at him, a big, hairy many like himself, testosterone so obviously pumping hard through his veins. You need him all the time.
Gladiator!Miguel who attempts to teach you how to wrestle upon your request. You do it in your palace garden where the grass and dirt would serve as a cushion for your many falls and defeats. And though you genuinely wanted to learn the art form of fighting, the two of you with your hands all over each other meant it wasn't long before you were face down in the flowers and Miguel was on top of you.
It was risky to do it in the garden where anyone could come through and see Miguel on top of you and your robes shoved up your waist. His hands pinned your wrists to the Earth and he fucked you with such vigor that anyone coming by would have mistaked it for an unwilling assault upon your body.
You had to keep quiet, even as he spread your ass so he could watch the way his fat cock disappeared inside you, even as he forced you to fuck yourself on him. “Take what you need, mi corazón.” He murmured in your ear, drunk off your soft body as his large hands grasped at your exposed flesh.
Gladiator!Miguel who needs his prince/princess to cum first always. You’re pampered, spoiled. You deserve to go first to ensure you’re properly satisfied by the end of it. It’s not like it’s a difficult task and the payoff is always so satisfying as he watches you make a mess of yourself, quivering with satisfaction beneath him as he fucks you into oblivion.
Gladiator!Miguel who genuinely teaches you how to swordfight. He thinks it’s a good skill to have. In the case that you are ever alone, you must be able to defend yourself. Besides you being next in line for the throne, you’re pretty, and there are many people in this world who’d like to take advantage of you.
Gladiator!Miguel who teaches you a whole plethora of things, how to fight, how to hunt, how to tie knots, etc. With each skill you’re taught, the more you feel yourself falling for him and him falling for you. In another world, the two of you could be together. In another world, a relationship like yours would be okay but you were expected to marry nobility and he was a simple gladiator.
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*based off this awesome art right here by @chocoarts - the sketch on the left in particular :)
It doesn’t take long for Steve to get used to Eddie’s raised-by-wolves levels of affection. The hair chewing and the shoulder nibbles and the freckle licking. It’s never classified normal stuff - definitely not stuff he ever did with dainty Hawkins High girls, that’s for damn sure.
But still, it takes no time to get used to it. Full on expects it, by now. The most notable time that Steve is expecting it is on their one year anniversary.
Two months prior to the Big Day, Eddie's spontaneity and Steve's boredom led to an impulsive stick-and-poke tattoo on Steve's forearm. Eddie wanted to give Steve a simple crown. Told him it was to reclaim the stupid nickname from high school, make it his own.
'Overthrow all the teenaged bullshit. Kick trauma in the metaphorical ass.' Eddie had said after completing it, smiling up at Steve. 'It's what kings do best.'
After that day, Steve decides to add on to his impulsive tattoo and surprise Eddie with it. He gets one small bat, just like the ones on Eddie's arm. Gets it right next to the crown, side-by-side. The same way they all fought together a while back.
As soon as Eddie sees the addition, he tackles Steve, linebacker style. Steve is ready for it, totally braces for the aggressive affection. Fucking loves it. Expects it.
However, Eddie doesn't just stop there. Oh no. He climbs up Steve's body, tightly wrapping his arms around Steve's neck. Wraps his legs around Steve's upper arms even tighter.
Which... how the hell did Eddie get so flexible? And when the hell did Eddie get so flexible? Like, yeah they do some semi-contortionist stuff in the bedroom, mostly when they're hyped up on sugary soft drinks.
But this? This is... new. Wild.
He clutches on to Steve like he's a goddamn tree trunk. Some rare tree species that's in grave danger of being chopped down from the rainforest or whatever. He’s making lots of pleased sounds, singing maybe. Hard to tell for sure.
Steve holds Eddie firmly, hands underneath his thigh, his back, anywhere that he can get a solid grip. Keeps him safe from whatever corporate bulldozer that dares to take down their weirdly amazing love.
"Shit, I'm crazy about you." Eddie nuzzles into Steve's hair. "Like... totally and completely."
Steve laughs, comes out a bit strangled from the way Eddie is clinging to him. "Guessing you like it, huh?"
"Duh." Eddie slides off, connecting their hands on his way down.
"It represents-"
"I know what it represents." Eddie interrupts, his expression softens from the reminder, the difficult topic they're both skipping around. "You don't have to say it."
He does though, Steve has to say it. Needs to say it the same exact way Eddie had said it to him two months ago.
Because yeah, they act tough about what went down that night. But that doesn't mean they should just be stuck in a cycle of Acting Tough. Pretending to be okay all the damn time.
So Steve takes Eddie's arm, the one that's covered with tiny bat silhouettes. He holds their two arms together and carefully brushes over each tattoo design. Tells Eddie to reclaim the stupid scars that litter his body.
"Fight off all the inter-dimensional bullshit. Kick trauma's metaphorical ass." Steve smiles up at Eddie, who suddenly looks serious, focused. "It's what heroes do best."
"Steve." The seriousness is wiped clean off of Eddie's face. It's quickly replaced with a gentle grin. Relief reaching over his furrowed brow. No more worry lines. No more grimace. He looks at ease. Content, maybe.
And as much as Steve enjoys making Eddie feel content, he wants him happier right now. So he switches up the energy, tries to lighten the mood a little. Steve hooks his fingers into Eddie's front pockets, readying to pull him in.
It's predictable, been his go to make-out move any time they're standing up. This is a special fucking day, however, and that calls for a Special Edition Make-Out Move.
So Steve digs each hand deep into Eddie's pockets, wiggles them around a bit. Watches Eddie's cheeks go pink, blotchy red in some places. Steve moves all of the coins and lint and questionable items out of the way, making room.
He takes deep breath, then yanks the seams at the very bottom of each pocket, flipping the material inside out. Sticking straight up from his jeans.
Eddie is all red now, flushed down to his neck. "What the..."
Steve tugs on the flipped out pocket seams, jolting Eddie closer. He lands on Steve's lips, colliding a bit roughly. For a second, they're too busy smiling to kiss properly. But Steve slides his hands up Eddie's chest, around his neck, scratches the tiny hairs on the back of Eddie's head, and that's it. That's all that it takes for them to get lost in the kiss.
Eddie's mouth opens, biting the center of Steve's bottom lip. Breathes out the warmest air as he lets go, returns to a softer approach. Steve licks over the spot, soothes the pulse that Eddie left behind.
"That was... different. " Eddie laughs. He swipes his tongue over Steve's cupids bow, traces an outline until Steve is laughing too.
"Bad different?" Steve asks.
"Not at all." Eddie shakes Steve by the shoulders like he’s nuts for asking such an outrageous question. "Besides, different is right up my alley, babe."
"I'm highly aware."
"Didn't realize I was such a bad influence on your freakier side."
"What can I say?" Steve shrugs, steals one of Eddie’s rings to twirl around his finger. "I'm very easily persuaded."
They head over to the couch, kissing haphazardly as they flop down. Eddie tugs and twists at the fabric of Steve’s shirt, stretching it out. Wrinkling it. Steve couldn’t care less if it gets ruined because Eddie will be the one ruining it.
Eddie sighs into the kiss. Not a sexy sigh either (which are obviously Steve’s favorite of the sighing variety). It sounds more shocked. Disbelief or something.
Steve angles his head away from the kiss to see that Eddie’s eyes are open, wandering all over Steve’s face. It’s pretty cute, seeing Eddie too busy just staring to even shut his eyes mid-kiss. Like his schedule is too jam-packed up with Gawking, has to multitask during their make out sessions now.
"Kinda can’t believe it." Eddie finally says, still staring.
"What?" Steve stares backs. Makes it a staring contest. Doesn't tell Eddie though cause he wants to win.
Eddie motions toward his pockets that are still turned inside out. "After one whole year, you still keep me on my toes with shit like that."
"I do?"
"Sure do. You're something else, babe.”
"I am?" Steve blinks.
Damnit, he lost the one-sided staring contest.
“Yup.” Eddie nods, transitions to chewing on a chunk of Steve’s hair like he always does. Sometimes, he’ll make mooing sounds. Especially after sex, when he’s at his goofiest. Most comfortable.
It’s fucking unreal how Steve has learned all of these quirks. How he waits for them, anticipates them. Every bit feels familiar to him now.
"You're unexpected in all the best ways, Harrington."
Steve tries not to gush at that compliment. It's not one he gets often.
Eddie stops chewing on Steve’s hair to kiss his cheek instead. The kiss is powdery-sweet, miles away from his usual eagerness. Still perfect somehow. Just like the weird stuff is somehow perfect too.
That's kind of who they are together. Weird and unexpected.
In all the best ways.
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lucybellwood · 9 months
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I’ve been meaning to repost this mini-essay I wrote for Global Maritime History back in 2015 for AGES and since today's dash is full of people lamenting the burden of Boat Knowledge this seems like the right time.
ONWARD FOR TALL SHIP ART TIPS!
I often get questions from people who are concerned that their illustrated boats aren’t going to be up to snuff, and the short answer is generally: don’t sweat it. If you’ve drawn a thing that has a hull in the water and sails in the air, you’re off to a great start, and if you consult a few handy reference images, you’re bound to end up with something that looks mostly ship-like.
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HOWEVER. There are a couple things that often get lost in translation which—if you pay attention to them—can make the difference between a passable tall ship and a vessel that definitely looks like you know your baggywrinkle from your bunghole. Here’s two tips to get you started.
Flags in the Wind
Generally when we think of a thing that’s going fast, we imagine a flag streaming out in the wind behind it, right? Well, when it comes to square rig sailing, things aren’t always so simple. If the wind is coming up from behind a ship—or from the side—to push it forward, the flag may be flying in a direction you wouldn’t expect! How are the yards angled to catch the wind in the sails? What’s driving the vessel forward? Sailors often look to flags for a quick indicator of wind direction—use that thought process when drawing your ships.
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Keep Your Shrouds Tight!
Those rope ladder-looking things sailors are always clambering up? They’re called shrouds, and they also form a large part of the tensioning system that keeps a ship’s masts stable and upright. Stays (lines that don’t move i.e. stay put) are arranged throughout the rig to maintain even aft-to-fore pull on the masts and prevent them from keeling over. Shrouds form the lateral component of that system, so here’s an important fact: they will not be saggy. No saggy shrouds. No saggy stays. In addition to making the mast unstable, it’d be a devil to climb in heavy weather.
Note: the ratlines (the “ladder rungs” of the shroud) can have slack in them—it’s the vertical lines that should be tight.
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When the crew is “tuning the rig,” they’re putting slack in all the stays and then re-tensioning them to ensure that the whole operation is as stable as possible, so unless you’ve got a bunch of idiots running your fictional vessel, keep ’em tight.
And another thing…
I see a lot of people running their shrouds down to the deck, rather than alongside the vessel. Don’t do that! I mean, okay, sometimes shrouds do attach to chain plates on-deck, but most of your classic Golden Age of Sail vessels will have them running alongside to the channels. Also: they end in deadeyes to help with the tensioning of the line and to keep things stable, so don’t forget your deadeyes!
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Honestly, these are the biggest things that I see artists flub when drawing tall ships, so if you can keep them in mind, you’ll be head and shoulders above the rest!
If you’re looking to go more in-depth with your research, I would recommend…
Seeing if you can find a modern replica of the type of ship you’re after and then centering your reference search around the name of that ship. I get far more extensive results when I’m searching for “Privateer Lynx” rather than “1700s topsail schooner.” Don’t discount the many photos tourists will have taken while visiting these ships!
Nose around on model ship-building forums. There is no greater boon to the modern nautical artist than these obsessive craftspeople, who will spend hundreds of hours replicating classic ships in minute detail—often photographing the whole process so you can actually see how the rig of a vessel is put together! God bless ’em.
And that’s all I’ve got! I hope you’ve enjoyed this brief foray into accurate tall ship representation. Fair winds and following seas!
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cochart · 3 months
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Some SMT5 Characters in P5T style because it’s cute
I’ve been enjoying P5T during my little self-assigned winter break. I haven’t cleared the game yet, but it’s been a nice distraction.
Below is some of my thoughts on P5T if you’re interested or if you’re trying to decide whether or not to buy.
Overall, the game has been pretty enjoyable. It’s nice to see the characters you’re familiar with again and the story is decent. The art style is cute and the battles are enjoyable. The game is definitely more on the casual side and might be a tad bit disappointing for people who want a proper SRPG. On the flip side, even if you hate SRPG, you’d be able to pick this game up easily. I’d definitely recommend the game for P5 fans.
On the other hand, compared to P5S, the game does feel a little short for the price. I don’t regret preordering the game at all, but if your finances aren’t doing so well at the moment, I’d say wait till it goes on a sale.
1. As a Persona 5 spinoff
As a spinoff, I think it’s a pretty nice game. It’s nice to see the characters you love again in a different context, and the new characters are fun and likable. I’m actually quite impressed by the new characters as it can sometimes be difficult to insert new characters into a well-established franchise without making them overpowered or otherwise upsetting to the existing fans. Both Toshiro and Elle are likable, fun characters with decent stories of their own.
It’s also nice to see your favorite Phantom Thieves again. Overall, the tone of the game is more playful, so you can’t expect an in-depth character exploration you get in P5R, but it still feels like a treat.
2. As an SRPG
I think the game translated the elements of Persona franchise well into an SRPG genre. With 1 MORE and Tribangle system, you really do feel like you’re playing a Persona game. While it might be a tad bit disappointing that you can only use three characters per battle, trying to find the most efficient way to exterminate the enemies with Tribangle is pretty fun.
That said, for people coming from a more traditional SRPG like Final Fantasy Tactics or the Fire Emblem series, P5T can be a little lacking. Part of the fun in an SRPG is customizing units and building your army. In P5T, you level up the Phantom Thieves as a whole instead of individually. I think this was necessary to prevent users having to grind to level up different units, but it also makes it harder for you as a player to customize each unit meaningfully. In FE3H, for example, you can decide whether you want Felix to be a sword master or a wyvern lord. You can also decide whether you’d want your army to be sturdier with a lot of armored units or whether you’d take your chances by raising your units’ agility and hoping that they’d dodge enemy attacks. That you can’t do such customization can be a huge disappointment for people who enjoy SRPG.
On the other hand, adopting such traditional job/class system might have turned P5T into a poor man’s FE. I feel like the developers had to choose between a traditional approach at the risk of making the game look like a FE ripoff and trying to make use of Persona-typical systems at the expense of being a solid SRPG.
Overall, the game plays more like a fun puzzle game than an SRPG. If I were to compare P5T to any game, I’d actually compare it to some of the puzzle maps in FEH. My advice is if you’re looking for a solid SRPG like Fire Emblem, you should pick up a Fire Emblem game.
3. Others
While the game doesn’t feel unfinished—like Crimson Flower route in FE3H in which you feel cheated out of Edel’s story—it does feel a little short. I haven’t gotten to the final boss, but I can look at the level and guess where I am. I’ve been playing this game in bits and pieces, but I’m already 60% finished with the game. I think at this rate, I’d finish at about 35~40ish hours. Keep in mind that when I play games, I eat and drink, so it takes a little longer than it would if I were to focus completely on the game.
One thing that shortens the game is that there isn’t anything to do aside from battling. I know some people hate it when games involve little side activity like walking around and talking to characters—though you can technically talk to characters in P5T when there’s a Talk event—or farming, but I do wish there was something to do. The quests are fun, but there aren’t that many of them.
On the other hand, because you don’t have anything to work for besides getting on with the story, I’m not sure if the developers could have made the game longer without making the battles feel too repetitive. If there were job/class systems or any unit customization available, there would be something to work for, but there isn’t.
I do think there is more potential to the premise of the game though. The Kingdoms of P5T is sort of set up like Silent Hill in that the bosses are incarnations of one’s fear. I think the developers could definitely have expanded on that.
I’ve also seen some complaints that the game is too easy. The game is definitely easier than some SRPG I played. But then, I don’t think this game was made with hardcore SRPG players in mind. Also, despite the game being a bit more casual, I didn’t feel bored playing the battles. So I think the difficulty level might actually be more suitable for the general public. Aside from something like Dark Souls, games of all genres have been getting easier over the years. I know it might be disappointing to people who want more challenging games, but I don’t see the trend reversing soon. I think the best course of action if you want more challenge is to try looking into some indie games.
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lucrativesoul · 7 months
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Espionage
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summary: working in an underground crime syndicate, your job gets risky, but, the more risk, the more reward. you jumped the gun on your thievery through an art museum, and come across one certain guard who is adamant on stopping you in your path.
pairing: guard!leon kennedy x female reader
word count: 11.5k
warnings: smut, fingering, choking, slight degradation, dom leon
a/n: yall know i had to do one with tactical gear leon i mean come onnnn look at him!!! (patrick voice) i went a little wild with this one LOL i really thought it was gonna be my shortest work yet and here we are. the plot of this was inspired by Death Prefers Blondes by Caleb Roehrig! if you guys liked the idea of our mc's job here, i suggest you check out that book, its a really great young adult read! i had so much fun with this one, i really hope i didn't keep you guys waiting. i hope you enjoy, thank you endlessly for the support, and I will see you soon :)
Taking a deep sigh, you reclined yourself back as far as you could in the stiff chair, which wasn’t much. The light above you was flickering, to your annoyance, but you kept quiet about it, focusing instead on the rapid typing on the keyboard from the man in front of you. The room was cold, and you pulled your sweatshirt tighter around you. You knew to come prepared this time.
You hoped you would get out of here before the traffic rush. You hated having to come all the way out here, but, after all, it was your job.
To explain how you came into this would take too long, as you tell everyone, so simply put: Some connections in your life led to other connections, and those connections allowed you to quit your two part time jobs and become a full time criminal. Literally.
You met this man, Carlos, at the gym where you liked to spar with some of the trainers when they weren’t in sessions. Simulating a fight was not something you had expected to find a lot of entertainment in, but when you got up there in front of someone and were forced to defend yourself with blocks and punches and kicks, it introduced a whole new adrenaline into your world. Keeping up with your physical shape had definitely aided in your ability to be nimble, and your history of (attempted) gym consistency helped build muscle. 
Carlos had pulled you aside after a sparring session with another trainer, impressed by your moves, and had told you he wants to see you put it to the real test. He offered you a spot in the gym he frequented (which was, to your horror at first, the sketchiest building you had ever seen in your life from the outside), paired you with a trainer who wasn’t afraid to throw real punches, and before you knew it, you could fight an array of builds and heights. 
From there, you kept talking to people who knew people who knew Carlos, and he weaseled you into his line of work where he trusted you to go on the scene of whatever was the target, and sold all of your loot. He was your fence, you were his robber. Quite simply.
A real threat of danger hung over your head on every job, and you knew this well enough. There was always the chance of getting caught, considering every location had guards 24/7. There was always a chance you could get hurt; fall from a high location, the failure of equipment, get shot for fucks sake, but you loved the adrenaline it gave you. You felt on top of the world, and in the back of your mind, you knew this would surely be considered an addiction, but you didn’t care. Every new job upped the ante, and you needed more.
The second deep breath you took expanded your lungs, the stretch feeling good after not moving for several minutes now. You rolled your head side to side, hearing the crack, and turned your attention back to Carlos, who finally started talking again.
“I have buyers in Europe lined up for these.” He looked down at the desk, an array of shiny stones and metals bent in intricate shapes and chains laid out in front of him. Courtesy of yours truly. “A few are interested in the same piece, but they can argue with themselves, I’m only going to sell it to them, I’m not the mediator.” He sighed and pushed back in his rolling chair, pulling open a file cabinet and a manila folder.
“Where in Europe? Can we hand deliver?” You couldn’t help but grin slightly, and Carlos didn’t have to look up from his papers to know you were.
He shrugged. “If you want to risk receiving a chest cavity the size of a gold ball, knock yourself out.” He knew you were joking, and you knew the rules well enough. Knowing who your buyers were, and going within any sort of vicinity of them while knowing their identity was strictly off limits. He turned his head towards his computer again. “Venice. Nice.” He turned towards you. “Budapest. The usual.”
You nodded. You were expecting some sort of answer along the lines of that, so it wasn't too much of a surprise to you. Oh, how it would be nice to be in Europe, though.
“Here’s the deal.” Carlos put the folder of papers down in front of you, and you lazily scanned it, knowing that most of it was going to look like gibberish anyways. Carlos was the man in between here, you simply stole things. You didn’t deal with the numbers and the logistics. “The man who is in the battle for our largest emerald is willing to step aside and let our Venetian buyer take the cake, because he reached out with another job that he and only he wants to be in the running for.”
You scoffed. “Dude must be loaded then. A solo job?”
Carlos cocked an eyebrow. “He gave me parameters for the job, and I almost turned him down without even running it by you, to be honest.”
You sat up straight. “The fuck, Carlos? Give it to me, I can take it.”
He sighed and slouched back in his chair. You were honestly surprised that Carlos was not the one in your spot. He was insanely built and could easily take down four armed guards at once, but you never found out why he chose to be behind the scenes. At least you knew he trusted you enough not to put you in anything that would be instant death.
“There’s apparently an heirloom to this guy’s lineage sitting in a chamber room of the gallery downtown. He’s been trying to find a means to reach it and claim it back for years, but, according to him, the museum won’t budge on letting him anywhere near a buying price.”
You let his words sink in. “What’s so bad about that?”
Carlos sighed again. “It’s an art gallery.” He stared at you, waiting for you to get the point. “They have armed guards posted day in and day out. Alarms at every possible entrance and cameras watching every square inch of the place. It’s just not feasible.”
You shook your head. “Carlos, come on. I know you have access to the technical means that we need to do our surveillance. We can watch their route. We can track who does what nights and who might be the easiest to take down. I did that at the villa two weeks ago.” 
“Yes, and you nearly lost your life. I was shooting myself in the foot for putting you out there.”
You shook your head again. Part of you was thankful that Carlos had the decency to regret his decision of accepting that job, and feeling remorse once you reported back that one of the bodyguards had you in a near death chokehold before you managed to, by luck, weasel free. Even you were still haunted by that. But you would never let it slow you down, and would never tell Carlos, as he would surely put you in safer locations. Which meant less fun.
“I’m just saying, now that it’s been done, I can do it again. And be careful about it this time. I want to do this Carlos, I believe I can.”
Carlos was silent for a moment, thinking over your words. He sighed.
“I want our people staking out on the perimeter the whole time. I don’t want to hear objections. There will be a team this time, this is not just somebody’s home. This is government and city property, if you don’t die, you and I are as good as dead in the prison system.”
You quirked a small smile. “Come on Carlos.” He lazily held eye contact. “You think I’d rat you out like that?”
He sighed and rolled his eyes, but you could tell he was fighting the urge to smile as well. “Be back here tomorrow at 12. We’ll start our prep.”
You, Carlos, and two other men were huddled around a plethora of screens deep in the trenches of Carlos’ office. One of the monitors had split screen CCTV surveillance, six cameras watching the main galleries and two hallways, one was a datamine of the encrypted content regarding the people employed to stand guard at the museum, and the others were floor plans of each floor and wing of the gallery.
The size of the place didn’t scare you, in fact, it only brought more excitement to your job. As soon as Carlos brought up the blueprints and started mapping escape routes and how to avoid camera sightings, you memorized it instantly. This would be a breeze.
“Here’s who we need to look out for.” He drew up a site that had profiles of each of the seven guards that do night duty. Their employee photos looked like mugshots. “These three guys guard the east wing, these two rotate between west wing and foyer since that is the smallest wing and closer to the entrance, and these two are usually staked out by the rear gallery.”
“You seem to already have this down, Carlos.” You mumbled.
He snickered from in front of you. “I’ve been watching already.”
You sighed through your nose. “Going to turn down this job my ass.”
“We’re expecting these two to be in the west wing the night of the heist. I’ve been watching, and they tend to rotate, but there’s a pattern. I’m sure it will be them.” You nodded, listening closely to his words. Carlos might be a pain in the ass sometimes, but you knew he didn’t mess around with ensuring the best possible route. “One stands in the wing while the other stands in the foyer. They rotate at the same time, so there is a small window when no one is watching the far end of the gallery.”
“How am I getting in there? Hanging out overnight?” It was a partial joke, but you never knew with this team. 
Carlos shook his head, and diverted everyone’s attention to an isolated map, similar to the layout of the floor plan. “This is the duct system.” You stifled a laugh. You should have expected this. “Big enough for a person like you. The duct room is locked whenever no one is accessing them, and the only people that do are the janitorial team, and Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday are the only times they are sweeping the building.”
“Literally, sweeping.” 
Carlos sighed heavily at your remark. “The system that is connected to the electronic lock is also connected to what controls the cameras and the lights. I can get you in there, but only in a very small window of time. It needs to be during the day.”
“The day.” You echoed. “So, I’ll be camped out in there for a while, then?”
Carlos nodded. You knew what you were about to get yourself into. It came with the job description, and before the job actually launched into action, you knew that familiar feeling of anxiety blossoming in your chest. You had been in the gym consistently, trying to find someone to mock a chokehold with you in the case that it happened all over again. If it did, you decided Carlos didn't need to find out.
You knew you were physically ready. The odds of going against a huge man didn't look great from the outside, but you were flexible, and fast, and if you could bounce around their sights, you could steer clear of any sort of altercations.
“Yes, you’ll be in there for a while. It’s the only way.” You nodded again. You knew there was no such thing as comfort in this line of work. If you get too comfortable, you might as well get ready to be comfortable in a jail cell, or in the afterlife. “We move in Thursday night. Just to be sure that the cleaning happens Wednesday and we won't get any surprises. You’ll enter at 4 PM. I’ll be watching all morning to decide what you should wear to make the least waves possible and so you can disappear when they close at 6. Regular day employees stay until 7:30, then the guards move in, but we can’t make our moves until well after sunset.” Carlos was looking mostly at you, as the other teammates he rounded up were just going to stake out the perimeter. “You know the prep. Make sure you last while you wait.”
You spent the next week in the office watching everyone’s moves. The guards followed a monotonous routine in which areas they patrolled. Odd, considering they might want to watch for corners where people could stay hidden. 
They all stuck to their schedules, no employee stayed later than an hour and a half after closing, guards immediately did a sweep of the whole building for the lame thieves who attempted to hide in bathrooms, before they stuck to their positions, and that’s where they stayed for the night, until 5 AM. You were positive you had this down now, there was no way you could be wrong.
There was, of course, but you preferred to pretend otherwise.
The guards rotated as predicted, and with every step they took every passing day you grew more confident in this job. That person who was commissioning this should be well willing to tip generously considering the amount of prep taking place.
You swallowed the lump of anxious nerves, pushing yourself into your work mindset as you sat outside the museum, the breeze cooling down your heated skin. Carlos had been keeping watch of the patrons since opening, and he concluded the appropriate outfit for you to don would be a tan hoodie, light wash jeans, and you didn’t have many options in the way for shoes, a simple pair of white sneakers having to do the trick. You knew they would be watching at the door, a metal detector as well as bag checks were mandatory, so you couldn’t risk a bag, but you had all you needed strapped underneath your clothes to your second skin layer– a skintight bodysuit, equipped with maximum breathability and flexibility– and all of your weapons holstered as close as they could get.
With nothing else except your phone (which was off) and wallet (with a fake ID), you walked up the steps, blending in with the bustle, but knowing well enough to not look too suspicious. You knew the rest of your team was around the perimeter, out of your view, and you were going to hear from Carlos for the first time when it was necessary for you to hide. He was never on location, he was seated safely in his office, every screen lit up with hacked CCTV footage and an in-ear device to communicate directly to you.
You took yet another deep breath in. You got this. You had to.
You knew you had time to kill while you waited to hear from Carlos. It couldn’t be right away, that would look too unnatural if you made a beeline past too many priceless works of art. So, not begrudgingly, you strolled through the galleries, admiring the timeless art, feeling inspired, excited, the sun streaming in through the glass ceilings of some of the halls.
It was mostly quiet, the murmur of people surrounding you, discussing what they were looking at, the occasional kid running by. As much of an admirer you were, you could feel the adrenaline coursing through your arms and hands, dying to get started. But, as Carlos taught you well, patience was a virtue, and if you rushed things, it could get bad, and fast.
After a lap, which lasted close to an hour, you sat on a bench in the west wing. You knew this was close to where you needed to be, and it would be easier to stay close in case the window of opportunity arose when you weren’t expecting it, which was typical. 
You toyed around with a pamphlet you had picked up near the entrance, still keeping an eye out for any employee, or any guard, which would be out of place at this time. It was nearing 5:30 now, and they were going to be closing in 30 minutes. Your heart rate quickened at that thought, knowing they were going to be sending employees to do loops and tell people their time was being cut short. You slowly straightened your posture, trying not to look too alert, trying to calm down–
“--in, come in. Connected to base, CCTV footage overrode, stations manned.” You heard Carlos’ crackly voice through your in-ear, and you slumped backward, relieved.
“Copy.” You kept your voice low and mouth movements to a minimum. “I assume you know where I’m at.”
“Bench in the back left of the west wing. The duct room is also being watched. It has been looking clear for the last ten minutes, give me another five to make sure, then I will give you instructions.”
You gave a slight nod, knowing he could see you. You kept up your previous charades, reading the same script for the fifth time on the pamphlet, people watching, and employee watching. The next five minutes took way too long.
“Get up slowly and walk along the wall to the left. Someone is coming down the hallway telling people there is 20 minutes to closing. Let him pass you, acknowledge what he said, and let him get about 20 feet ahead.” You shifted in your seat, pushing yourself up. Taking another look at the paintings hung on the walls, you realized as you approached– this was the one you were meant to take. You were so tempted to stand here and look at it, but you didn’t want to draw a suspicious coincidence in the mind of the employee who would see you standing in front of it. One glance later, and you moved on.
“Excuse me,” A soft voice spoke from behind you. You turned around, and acted surprised. A short man with dark hair had a friendly smile on. “The gallery will be closing in 20 minutes, just a heads up.” You nodded a thank you, and promised to move on swiftly.
“Ten seconds, then when you walk through the aisle in between the columns, there’s a hallway to the left. You’ll have a really small window to duck into the door on the left side and wait while I override the door code.”
“Code?!” You whisper-shouted, taking care to keep your voice low. “This should have been something you told me earlier.” 
“Don’t worry, I have access to it and can let you in. It will only take one more second, but you have to be quick with this door, you know that.” You sighed, knowing he was right. Your steps were quiet, but firm, and you caught sight of the small hallway he was talking about. “There’s no one behind you, but we can’t guarantee that’s permanent.” Oh, yes, you knew that was the truth. You wanted to turn around, but fought against it, not wanting to catch anyone’s eye.
Step, breath, step… “Go, now, hurry.” You careened quickly to the left into the hallway, knowing anyone would notice you if they walked by. “Two seconds…” Carlos configured the software to the door’s electronic lock as you approached and stood there, heart hammering. You pulled your sleeve over your hand. You heard the click. “You’re in, move.” You pushed down on the door handle with your sleeved hand and creeped into the room, wasting no time in shutting the door. You waited for the command before you moved. “You made it blindly. No one noticed you.” You sighed gently. “To your left, there's a switch. Flip the one in the middle. It’s the nightlight.”
You did as told, relaxing slightly now that you could see. The room looked exactly as expected. It was more of a closet, really. There was an electric panel on the wall opposite the door, a rack of cleaning supplies to the right, and in the left corner across from you, a large duct sock extending from a fixture that was taller than you. You had no idea where it led to, as it disappeared up into the ceiling, but you had a feeling that’s where you were destined to spend the next handful of hours.
You took your time inspecting the room, knowing there was going to be nothing quick about this next step. Behind the large fixture that filtered the air and sent it through the duct, there was a small passageway blocked by a vent grate. Carlos had told you vis in-ear to unscrew the large grate and tuck yourself in there. At least it was right next to the cooling system, and you could shed some layers. It would get hot, and quickly, in there.
Time ticked by slower than ever as you were stretched out in the vent, now loose from your jeans and sweatshirt. Your bodysuit was keeping you cool, and you managed your breathing whenever you remembered so you would be able to keep your core temperature as stable as possible. You ran over the plan once, twice, a thousand times, and maybe even drifted off once or twice, by the time you heard Carlos’ voice again, sounding angelic after all this time.
“Hey, you awake in there?” His soft, crackled voice sounded through your brain.
“As ever. What’s the time?” You whispered back, shocked at how far the smallest vocal sound carried through the metal tube.
“Close to 11PM. We have to get moving soon.” You nodded, knowing he couldn’t see you.
“Can I push this thing open? Can someone hear me from here?”
“Give me two seconds, I need to make sure I can disable central control of the cameras so no one else watching security can see. We don’t need any unnecessary backup here.” You let Carlos do his thing from base, and tried your best to stretch your limbs getting ready to move. “Okay, this will take a few minutes, but in thirty seconds, the rotation from west wing to foyer is going to start. Countdown, then crawl out as carefully as possible.”
Breathing steadily, countdown rapidly ticking in your head, you started at thirty, gripping the grate as much as you could once you hit one, and pushed outwards. You had managed to click the metal back in place behind you once you crawled in, but it wasn’t the most subtle sound. Now, it counted even more that it was timed right.
With a solid shove and a louder than you expected click (and a wince), and shimmied your way out of the vent, placing the metal onto the ground with the slowness of a turtle. You had no idea if anyone was going to open the door to this right now, so you just had to trust that the silence from Carlos meant that nothing was about to go wrong.
You stood up, sighing deeply when you could finally stretch out before getting to move for the first time in nearly 6 hours. The spandex of your bodysuit contoured with your body, and you felt unrestrained as you stretched out, ready to be as light on your feet as possible. There was a small holster on your thigh, where a retractable baton was strapped in tight, and one around your waist, holding onto three tiny knives– stainless steel– the closest thing that would get you through the detectors without being flagged. Fingers crossed they wouldn't need to be used.
“The rotation just finished, so in about ten more minutes, our window will open for you to come out and stay hidden. Remember where all the sculptures are layed out?”
“Yeah, I do.” You continued to stretch through Carlos’ words. “I’m ducking out of here at your command, softly shutting the door. I come quietly to the opening of the hallway and duck out to the right, hide behind a column and stay low.” You recited again, and heard Carlos give a hum of approval. 
“Just hang tight for now, I’ll let you know when you need to start moving. Security override is almost done. Remember, they’re gonna try and reboot the system immediately, which will take another minimum five minutes, max ten. Be light on your feet, move fast.”
You steadied your breathing once again, flexing everything in your body to make sure you were adequately stretched out and ready for action. You had never felt more so. 
“Exit the room in twenty seconds. Start counting.”
You pounced on your feet at the sound of Carlos’ voice after a few minutes, gloves on your hands (which had also been hidden in a pocket of the bodysuit), and gripped the handle, counting just to the pace you had been trained to.
“Move.”
You and Carlos reached the countdown at the same time, and you pressed the metal handle down and inched the door open, swiftly, but not enough to cause the hinges to make noise. You slithered out, and once you had the door shut again without a sound, you dropped down onto your knees, walking in a crouch to the entrance of the gallery.
You were hidden immediately by a column. You peeked out, knowing there wouldn’t be a guard in the aisle but checking anyway, and waddled over to the next column, feeling your heart rate increase with every step. Peeking around, you spotted the guard, who was walking slowly towards the middle of the west wing. He had his hands by his sides, gun holstered on his hip. Not much more than an average cop’s bulletproof vest on his body.
You waited for him to reach the center and do a lazy turn, back towards you, to run to the next column. Time was ticking, but as long as he stayed right where he was, you would be able to secure this artwork and disappear.
You reached the next column, and the next, all the while the guard was still turned, and you ducked back whenever he did a mandatory sweep of the area behind him. You could see the painting you needed from your current position. If Carlos had it under control, he could stifle the alarm system at the very second you used one of the knives to cut the cords and rip it from his ceiling holsters. You could tell on your first walk by this afternoon that it was nothing more than a heavy fishing wire, and it could be done soundlessly.
One more column, and you could see the guard from your hunched over position. You were pretty well hidden behind the column itself and a sculpture sat in front, and slightly to the left of it. You heard him sniffle, and shift his weight again before turning around, and crouch-running to the column that sat just to the right of the painting. This was it.
You had your head parked solidly right behind the column, watching the guard. He was still facing you, looking up at the ceiling, down all the obvious passageways, and then he turned. It was now or never.
You creeped forward, hand over the knife on your holster, ready to slice through the cord on the wall. You were waiting for Carlos’ sign that the alarms had been disabled. Nothing, but you had no time to wait. You had to try it.
You pulled the knife from the holster and pushed the blade out, gloved hand gripping the frame, and in two swift movements, the wires giving a slight shing with the cut, it was loose, no alarms, and you dropped back to the ground and ran.
Taking the same caution on the way back as you did on the way over, you stopped at columns to watch the guards, and by the tell-tale sign of him stalking forward once, you knew the rotation was about to happen.
You grew closer and closer back to the duct room; through the vents as your only way out. 
Taking the opportunity of no guard in the hall, you went as fast as you could in a crouch, seeing the opening for the hallway mere feet away. It was home free. Another job done.
Still in the clear, your heart hammering, you dove forward into the hallway, not wasting anymore time. You reached the hallway, turned the corner, and found yourself staring straight into the barrel of a gun.
Stopping short, nearly screaming out, you could only stare as you tried to identify the person behind it. You couldn’t move, your limbs were frozen in place. You could not hear Carlos, you didn’t even know if he saw you cut the line. He had the alarms disabled, clearly, but where was he? And who was this man?
You couldn’t see the bottom half of his face. Behind the large gun he had pointed at you, he had  a black neck gaiter covering from his nose down. His eyes were hard, eyebrows deeply furrowed, they looked blue in the dim light. His blonde hair was pushed off his forehead, stiff with gel. He was covered neck to feet in gear, a large, bulletproof vest and cargo pants, not another inch of skin showing. He was crouching to your height. Clearly, he knew you would be coming back here. What the fuck was going on?
He tilted his head in a mocking gesture at you, making fun of your momentary stupidity. You wanted to fight, but you knew better. If you drew attention now, you would be vastly overpowered very quickly. 
“Looking for an easy escape?” His voice was deep and husky, and for a moment you thought this was someone on your team. But no, they were told strictly to stay outside under all circumstances. This was not someone trying to help you. He was trying to capture you.
“Who are you?” You whispered, praying that Carlos was listening, feeling more panicked that you couldn’t hear him.
He shook his head. He was not in the mood to be courteous. “Go to the door behind me to my left. If you make noise, I’ll kill you. If you fight, I’ll kill you. Go,”
Your breath hitched, you could fight him with a knife, but with the barrel aimed straight for your brain, it was no use trying right now. You needed a plan, and quick. But for now, you had to obey.
Your legs felt like jelly as you stayed low and walked over to the door, the stranger backing up and keeping his gun trained on you the whole time. When you approached it, you stood up, looking back at him. He nudged his gun forward in a go in gesture, and with a deep breath, you quietly pushed the handle downwards and walked in.
This was not the duct room, which was the door on the other side of the hallway. Why had you not seen this door, why did Carlos also not seem to know about this door? When you walked in, you for real almost choked this time, it was the goddamn control room. The very one that Carlos had overridden to let you get into the museum after hours in the first place. Oh, you were fucked.
“You thought you had it all planned, huh? I’ve been sitting here this whole goddamn time watching you. I saw you walk in, I saw you sit down, I saw you go into the hallway, I was waiting for you.” Your stomach ran cold, not knowing what to do now. Carlos was MIA. He surely must be frantic. Was he going to send the team in?
You were staring straight ahead at the vast array of monitors, way more than Carlos had. Every inch of the museum was being watched. You saw the screen with the duct room hallway. It was in the rightmost corner. The control room door was hidden from this angle. This room had been scrubbed from blueprints. You would have seen it, you know it.
The chair in front of you was pushed out, most likely from this man standing up to meet you when you returned. A coat, issued with the museum’s logo, was draped over the chair. You could see a nametag pinned to the front. Leon S. Kennedy. That name did not sound familiar.
You squeaked out when the barrel of the gun hit you square in between the shoulder blades. “Your buddies can’t save you now, you know. Next time they try to do this, they’ll have to do more than just some book research.”
You took a steady breath, urging yourself to sound more collected than you felt. “Don’t act so high and mighty, Leon Kennedy.”
He scoffed. “Don’t act so fucking smart because you know how to read.” He used his gun once more to push your shoulder so you could spin around and face him. You could only stare as he maintained his composure. His eyes were not softening up. “Did you think you could be in and out with this one? Just like all the others?” You tried to fight it, but you felt your face scrunch in confusion. How does he know about the others? He made another sound, like a laugh, and you could almost see the outline of his cocky smile underneath his mask. “Don’t act like you stayed off of anyone’s radar. Your little fence isn’t exactly a low profile criminal in the underground market.” Your stomach sank. He knew about Carlos. He knew about the whole ring, he had been watching you! 
“This was… Is this even a real job?” You spat out, feeling more and more of a struggle to breathe. 
Finally, Leon put down his gun. He knew he had you under his fingers. He crossed one more step to get in your face, looking down at you. “Like I said… Your buddies need to be more careful with what they decide to take on.” He muttered at you.
Something clicked inside of you. It was a life or death situation, and there were no more good outcomes. With the swiftness of air, you shot your right hand up, connecting your fist with the side of Leon’s jaw. It caught him off guard, but it did no more than knock him back a couple of steps. That was a hard jaw.
You used those two seconds to your advantage as you sprung forward, using the chair behind you as leverage as you kicked into his chest with both feet, sending him flying backwards, knocking the gun loose from his grip. He almost fully lost his balance, and you rocketed forward, finishing him off and wanting to send him straight to the floor.
It seems, though, you underestimated how well trained this man might be. He never hit the floor, and from the second you sent him reeling backwards, he was already connecting the distance between you two again, and he ducked when you sent another leg flying at him. He hooked your other leg in his grip, turning you over and forcing you to fall to the floor on your back, effectively rendering your lungs useless.
You gasped for air, finding the strength to fight back, and before he could unlatch himself from the leg he had a grip on, you tightened your other around his throat, tucking his neck right under your knee, and you squeezed hard. 
Finding air again, and still keeping Leon in a chokehold, you pushed yourself up, and rolled the both of you over, so you were now essentially sitting on top of him, pushing his body into the ground as you kept him senseless. The dominance didn’t last long, as he pushed himself up, slamming you, once again, into the ground, loosening your leg, and escaping.
Your attempts at punches were meek, and he gripped both of your wrists in his hands and pinned them down; it was useless. It was over. During the altercation, most likely while he was being choked out, his gaiter slipped down, now wrapped around his neck. The rest of his features match the top half, and god dammit why did you have to make enemies with a man who looks like he should be on display in this very place?
“You should stop trying to fight me.” He grumbled from over you. You knew he had the upper hand now, definitely physically, but you weren’t going to stop.
“And just accept defeat? Accept whatever is going to happen next?” Despite knowing it would be useless, you attempted to break free from Leon’s grip anyway. It resulted in a tighter grasp around your wrists, and you winced. “What do you want from me? You set this up just to catch me. But you’re on the inside, too. You can’t nail us without incriminating yourself.”
If it was even possible, his face hardened further. He lowered his body to bring his face inches from yours, and you found yourself not turning away from his gaze. 
“Maybe that’s just not what I’m after.”
The sentence brought your mind to a complete blank. What else could he be after? If he was employed by the museum you were currently trying to steal a painting from and sell it for thousands, shouldn’t he want to take you down to protect the art? Wouldn’t he want to put you and your team in jail for the crimes you all have committed? 
“So, what? You just wanted to take me down? Try and make me fail? To prove something to yourself?” You were desperate at this point to hear something from Carlos, and the more time went by, you were sure Leon must have done something to the connection. Since he already knows… “Why can’t I hear my team?” You barked at him.
He quirked a cocky grin once again. “I don’t need you calling for unnecessary help. I’ve got it taken care of.” With one harsh movement, he adjusted both of your wrists so they were being held by his left hand. He then used his right to rip the in-ear out, making you cry out when the tape was torn from behind your ear. He kept tugging the cord until the tiny transmitter, which was clipped to the inside of your bodysuit, just below your shoulder, was out in the open, and tossed it aside. He was putting increasing pressure on your wrists, and you couldn't help but writhe.
“Let me go, I don’t get why you’re doing this.” You started a struggle again, but he shut it down swiftly. “Why me, Leon, why us? Surely we can’t be the only underground heist group within the vicinity, surely someone else must have tried to break in here.” 
Leon stared at you for a moment from his place above you. His expression gave nothing away about his thoughts, and it was aggravating you endlessly. He thought he was all that. You were pissed off, because you also felt like that was true. He did manage to fumble your route and tackle you and cut you off from comms. Asshole.
He lifted himself off of you slowly, and you felt the pressure around your wrists disappear. He was straddling you now, his large legs encapsulating you on both sides, his arms looked massive from this angle. His vest was littered with utility pouches, and you weren't sure you wanted to find out what was in them. The gaiter was slack around his neck, and you felt so tiny, submissive, and rapidly heating up under his half lidded gaze. You can’t believe you went over his employee profile. You would have remembered a face like his.
“You’re right. You are not alone in this ring of underground syndicates, frankly, not even the first to have been here. I took on a few of them. I’m not actively working to destroy the network that you work out of, I’m just doing my job. Why should I let thieves get away with it just because they’re good at what they do?” You stared at him as he spoke. You couldn't believe how much information he truly had, and how much more he would surely not reveal to you. “I didn’t care about the other bunch, they were all dirty criminals doing it for the money with no real talent and no morals, so, fuck them, I’ll bust them when they step into my territory.” He lowered himself again, and now he was holding himself above you, arms on either side of your head. He was staring straight down into your eyes. “But then you appeared on my radar. I was surprised to see a woman in this line of business. That’s not common. I had to watch you closely. Maybe my own ignorance made me think that you would be out of play quicker than you even started, but when I discovered you had taken down two men larger than me and turned around a chokehold that surely would have killed you, I couldn't help but be impressed.”
You couldn't stop the scoff that escaped your lips. “Fuck you. You don’t know what I’m capable of. I worked my way up to where I am now.” Your sentence was cut short when he placed a rough hand on your chin, holding it in his palm.
“Shut up.” You ground your jaw, holding back snarky comments that would put you in a worse position. His demeaning command twisted your stomach in an unfamiliar way. “When I noticed your skill, as you needed to throw in there before I finished, I saw a challenge. I couldn’t just let it go.”
No words came out of your mouth right away, still trying to process his. You shook your head in confusion. “Challenge?”
“I like a woman that can put up a fight.” Leon said nothing more, daring you to stay something in retaliation. You kept your mouth shut, unsure of what kind of response you should even give. You squinted your eyes at him, but he didn't falter.
“What kind of job even is this?” His grin grew. The anger and frustration mixed with something foreign in your stomach. You curled your toes instinctively at this feeling. “Setting me up for failure just to wrestle me so you can get a workout?”
He shook his head slightly, that glint in his eyes not fading. “It’s not all about me, you know. You’re my challenge right now, yes, but I see something in you. I want you on my side.”
“Your side? Are there sides to be had here?” 
“Sure there is,” His voice dropped to a low whisper now. You realized in that moment how quiet the room was. After the altercation the two of you had, you concluded it must be soundproof. There would have been a guard here by now. “You can fight. You're a spy. You’re practically invisible. That would be so useful to me. With me. I can give you that, you won’t have to worry about the inevitable end of this.”
You finally brought your hands down by your sides, and he didn’t move to stop you. “Here? You want to offer me the occasional chance of action from the museum?”
“You said it yourself.” His gaze hardened once more, and you suddenly remembered how harsh he was towards you five minutes ago. “I’m on the inside. I’m just as dirty as you guys are.” You stared, fighting the urge to gape your mouth. Someone on the inside, working right under everyone’s nose? “With me, I can make sure you’ll never face the threat of being shut down. Thrown in jail for years, for life. Carlos can’t do that.” You felt a twist at the mention of Carlos’ name, hoping he was alright.
You hated yourself for even letting that thought flick across your mind momentarily. You and Carlos were a team, he taught you everything, yes, but he had no other ‘ins’ in the world to protect you from the law. You were on your own in the field. He just directed you.
Leon had the connections. Leon worked with them. There was a chance that he really could keep you safe. 
“What’s…” You grit your teeth, and swallowed hard, hating this position. “What’s in it for me? I’d be losing what I worked for the last few years. Just to be under your belt now.”
He shook his head. “You’re not losing. You’re gaining.” He came dangerously close to your face, yet again, you didn't move away. “Trust me.” 
With nothing left to say to him, your body only had one way to react. You quickly hooked your left arm around Leon's neck, holding him in close, and using all the weight you could muster to flip positions with him. You could see in his face he was almost expecting this from you, yet he let it happen, and didn’t fight it. 
He let out a grunt as his back hit the ground, knowing his vest took most of the impact. You were now successfully above him, in between his spread legs, his arms splayed out on the sides. The arm that had been used as leverage around his neck was now holding you up, the other was poised threateningly at his collarbone, as if you were going to choke him at any second. 
But now, over him, though you felt triumph, you were at a loss for words again, still so muddled about the situation. Leon let the arrogant smile take over his features.
“We’d make a great pair, don’t you think?” 
A million emotions surged through your veins, making it even harder to focus, to find the right thing to say or do. The way he was looking up at you, those eyes, that face, you wanted to collapse and give it to what he was saying, but you would be damned if you gave in to any sort of manipulation from him. The job was already fucked. There was no money. It was a setup just to get you into his lair… for a lack of better word. He seemed to know the ins and outs of this building, yet, he was working underground for the same reasons, presumably, as you were. 
Fuck it, it doesn’t matter. There’s no job. You wouldn’t leave Carlos behind, but couldn’t you pretend?
Your hand gripped the collar of his shirt. “What’s the negotiation?” You mumbled. You tried your best to keep the intimidating look in your eye, but you were afraid Leon never even saw it in the first place.
He breathed out a small laugh. It infuriated you, but sent a chill down your spine. “Can’t we worry about the price later?”
You sighed, and pushed yourself off of him using his body to boost you. He grunted. On your knees now, you said, “You did all of this to get me to work with you and you won’t even tell me what your prices are?”
He followed your lead, and pushed himself off the floor with ease. He was now sitting up, staring you directly in the eye. “I’ve got a different asking price right now.” His voice became low, and you stiffened. It wasn’t every day on the field that you were met with a master tempter. Leon knew what he was doing now, and it all started to make sense to you. Regardless of if he really wanted you on his team or not, he kept an eye on you for weeks, months potentially, he brought you in here for one reason, and maybe one reason only. 
“What makes you so sure I’ll accept?” You whispered, not able to find the courage anymore to speak properly. 
“I think I just know. Am I wrong?” He stared deep into your eyes, yet another challenge. The challenges never seemed to end with him.
And, despite everything, you knew he wasn’t. You could feel it inside of you, he was right. You were about to accept his not-so-professional asking price, and you wanted to hate yourself for even giving in, but you couldn’t. You just couldn’t feel anything except eagerness. 
You breathed in shakily, frozen in your spot, wanting him to do something first, but he was just letting you fall apart slowly under his gaze, most likely enjoying watching your reaction to a simple stare. You ground your jaw together, resorting to only shaking your head. “Cocky bastard.” 
He laughed out loud once. “You got that right.” 
It seemed he had it now, not giving you time to start anything that you couldn’t move to do. With a solid palm, he pushed backwards onto your chest, sending you into the floor again. You caught yourself with your forearms and could only stare up at him as he towered over you on his knees, looking more intimidating than he did with a gun pointed at your face.
Leon brought one of his hands down to raid your holders strapped around your waist, pulling the knives free and flipping one open. Your breath caught for a second when he brought it to your neck, but then released even more unsteadily when he gripped your collar in the other hand and tore the blade through the spandex fabric of your bodysuit.
You gasped when the air hit your skin, shielded by the temperature regulating fabric, feeling more exposed than you ever had on a mission before. Of course, you figured, you decided a long time ago that the most comfortable way to don the bodysuit was with as little resistance as possible, so as soon as Leon tore the fabric apart from the middle, yourbare chest was on display for him. You felt heat run through your body, from embarrassment and the arousal that you couldn’t stop.
If it was even possible, his eyes grew darker with emotion previously undetected, and his grip on the bodysuit fragments that he was holding onto tightened endlessly, still tugging them off your body as far as they could go. 
He let go, your sleeves still intact, nipples hardening, before continuing to tear it apart lower, until you felt the crotch seams rip right under you, and as shocked by his actions as you were, you were doing nothing to stop it. You tried to tell yourself you wanted to stop him, but you knew yourself better than that by now. He would have been on the ground before he could have even held the knife to your throat.
If he was a mind reader, it wouldn’t have shocked you to find that out anymore. “Just gonna lay there and let me do this to you? Maybe I overestimated your skill.”
It was one thing to be flayed out by someone you didn’t know, another to be held at gunpoint during a mission, but an entirely different field to be insulted by the person who performed all said acts. 
“You don’t know anything about my skill. I guess saying you’ve been watching me was a lie.” You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, not even caring about your physical state anymore. Using your left arm, you sat further up, pushing Leon backwards with your right, and delivered him right onto his ass. “You think I can’t take charge of a situation?”
He looked up at you, not ready to physically retaliate. “I think you can, only when the person is letting you do so.”
You grabbed a hold of the gaiter still slung around his neck, and suddenly you were inches away from him. “I’m not letting you make me think that you’re allowing me to do anything. If watching me wasn’t a lie, you’d know I’m a lot more capable than what I’ve just let you do.”
He tilted his head sideways, clearly liking the new lack of distance between the two of you. “Then prove it.”
You decided to make a bold move. Repositioning your legs so you were now on top of him, you dropped yourself to sit right in his lap, feeling exactly what you were expecting. He groaned, finally not expecting something from you, and with a victorious smile, you fell lower, grinding into his erection with all your body weight. His hands instinctively went to claw at your thighs, the grip so tight it almost stopped you from moving, and his breathing became ragged.
“You give this treatment to every criminal that breaks into here?”
Leon laughed through the breaths. “I never get to them first to do this.” As you continued to gyrate on his lap, his eyes fell shut and his head rolled back, thumping on the wall behind him. His hands snaked up your legs, fingers toying the edges of the ripped fabric of his doing, and he pulled it further, trying to unsheath you as much as he could.
“Then allow me to make sure the rest of your criminals are forgettable.” You snaked your arms around his torso, letting him pull you loose from the sleeves of your bodysuit. Now free, you kept your grip firmly on his biceps, your own body weakening at the realization of how strong they felt. 
As badly as you wanted to free them, as badly as you wanted to see him underneath his armor, you wanted to see it when he took you. You needed to look up at his gear and see his hardened face, the strong bodyguard who made you submit.
He continued with his deep groans the more you ground down on his hard cock, and you could feel it yourself through his pants. Leon’s efforts made it so you had barely anything protecting you, and all that stood in the way were his thick pants. You wanted to free him from his constraints, but you wanted to be a tease about it.
“I hope you had a plan for this, because I’m not obeying someone who wanted to kill me.” You had yourself steady by gripping his knees with your hands, leaning back, his eyes never peeled away from your breasts, out in the open.
He took a hand and placed it over your hip, large and warm, and it sent a wave of heat straight to your core, sure you were wet through your panties now.
“So now you want me to take charge, after going on about your own strengths, huh…” He squeezed his hand over your hip, and it made you squirm.
You basically hopped up and slammed yourself down on his lap, just wanting to make him suffer. “You’ll do what I say, and we’ll see who's listening to orders.” Your motion had made him whine as predicted, and you carefully studied his face as it was scrunched up, mostly in pleasure, probably some in pain.
“Then what?” He half whispered out at you. “Tell me what to do, then.” His hands made their way up to your chest, squeezing delicately, but enough to arch your back into his touch. His other was seated on your thigh, the pressure of his fingertips increasing by the second.
You leaned in close to him, inches away, enough to taste him if you so pleased, but you waited. “Why don’t you treat me like the criminal I am?”
A shudder visibly flowed through his body at your words, the back of his head hit the wall again. The hand on your thigh was now on your throat, not tightening just yet, but with enough sturdiness to keep you in your place. Your whole body was on the move now as Leon shifted his weight, and once again, you found yourself with your back on the floor, staring up at him towering over you. Though you had already been aware of it, your nakedness became prominent in this moment, realizing Leon’s neck and face were all you could see of his skin.
“Don’t think I’ll be gentle then,” He barked out at you, having shaken off the pleasure from you grinding down on him.
You smirked, watching him finally take his gloves off, having nothing to say, but only (oddly) excited about the new course of action. He stopped bothering with trying to get the rest of your clothes off, having opened up enough room for him to work in. You thought he was most definitely either going to push your panties aside for access or cut them off, and as turned on as you knew you would be if he did the latter, you still had to leave this place after this.
“Take my belt off.” He was rigid after flinging his gloves aside, giving you orders to obey. Keeping your back square on the ground, raising only your arms, your fingers worked swiftly to undo the belt buckle, pulling the leather through the metal and setting it free. You looked up into his eyes, which were boring holes into you, and when he made no other movement, you continued to his button and zipper.
When your hand made contact with the fabric you saw the jump his cock made at the friction, even barely there. He let out a soft, shaky breath at you working it open, never losing his composure. The rigid tent right in front of your face was long and thick, and you had to get your hands on it faster than yours could work themselves.
Finally undone, you pushed the opening aside and pulled down the elastic band of his underwear, his facial expression never changing, up until you wrapped your hand around the base of his dick, now out in the open, and he groaned. He wrapped one of his own hands around your wrist, a plea not to move it, but you ignored it, and brought yourself to a sitting position so his head was lined up with the tip of your tongue.
“You want to suck it too, like a whore?” Leon’s other hand found solace in the back of your head, fingers tangling up your hair to get a steady grip. The pull made you wince, but you silenced the feeling by running your flat tongue along the underside of his dick, swiping along the head and letting the precum sit in your mouth.
A deep sigh was the result of your actions, and everything he did only egged you on. You felt him adding force to your head to move, but again, moved at your own pace, letting your tongue trace the indents and veins, letting your hand massage the base while your other was on the floor, holding you upright.
The anticipation alone of this moment could have filled your mouth with saliva, and the throbbing cock in front of you only added to help it. You opened your wet mouth and seated your lips around the tip, feeling that push on the back of your head again. Your tongue swirled endlessly, dragging up and down the slit, pushing more of the precum to the back of your throat, and finally, when you decided you had had enough, you slid his length as far back as you could go, a heavy breath coming from above you when you bottomed out. 
His grip on your hair became shaky, and his breathing never righted again the more you took him into your mouth, bringing him closer to orgasm. The friction lightened up with your saliva around the base, your hand becoming covered in it, the sickening sucking noises sending sparks straight down to your pussy, which was begging to be touched, but you had to push Leon to the edge first. 
You could feel his legs starting to buckle, but you pushed on, knowing he would stop you before he could cum in your mouth. As much as you wanted to bring him to that, you wanted to be pleasured by him first.
With one more deepthroat, stifling a gag and feeling his hand lift from your hair, he pulled himself out of your mouth, strings of saliva connecting his head to your lips. 
He took a deep breath in, looking down at you, almost spent but so much more to give.
With no warning, his hand was back on your throat, pushing you backwards into the floor once more. This time, the pressure was enough to constrict your breathing slightly, and you wrapped a hand around his thick forearm. 
“You weren’t getting off the hook that easily,” Even with the breathiness he was speaking through, his face still showed all the authoritative attitude that he had in the first five minutes of your encounter. At this angle, the shadows on his face made him even scarier, but you felt nothing except turned on by him. Strands of gelled hair fell forward onto his forehead, a glisten of sweat decorated his skin.
“Maybe this was your plan the whole time,” He continued, the hand on your throat not allowing you to speak, but giving you enough air to be satisfied. Your breath hitched when you felt him pull your panties to the side, and deliver a rough sensation to your sensitive clit. “You knew the treatment you’d get by crossing me.”
One finger, then two, and surely your slick was in a pool on the floor by now. His appendages had no resistance as they slid in and out of you, hitting your soft walls, arching your hips to get more and more, but he had you at bay, and he knew it.
“You like this, huh?” Leon brought himself closer to your face, lips just a hair away from yours, but he wouldn’t kiss you. “You like being treated like a slut?” You took another restricted breath in when he returned to your clit, massaging it in circles, making your pussy ache even more. “Answer me.” 
A choked out sob came out of you before, “Yes, I do…” and you felt your face heating up at the force of making you degrade yourself. 
“Yeah, I can tell, you’re so wet I should’ve just fucked you the moment I caught you.” He was growling at you now, and it did nothing but send you into pure bliss at his treatment. “Maybe you’ll learn another lesson or two, one they could never teach you.”
Between the stimulation on your clit and the hand on your throat, a tear slipped out of your eye, but you were anything but dissatisfied. He raised himself, removed his hand (much to your displeasure), and readjusted himself, cock lined up square with your heat.
“Open your mouth.” You did as you were told, and he spit directly into your open mouth, and at the distraction of that, he slid into you.
Your jaw hung slack as he made his way in, you could feel the way his cock was stretching your walls wide, your pussy was so wet it made it easier than you were expecting it to be. Your eyes rolled back, not being able to help the way your eyelids fluttered closed, eyebrows furrowing, fingernails surely cutting Leon’s skin through his sleeves where you gripped him hard.
The stretch was immaculate, it burned and it felt like you were on fire, but none of it made you want to tell him to stop. Skin to skin contact was made on your clit when he was all the way in, you felt so full you could barely breathe, and your clit was sending rocket fire signals to your brain, it made you writhe with the sensations.
You gasped, the drag out feeling just as good as the shove in, and you cried out through the constriction around your throat, “Leon… fuck,”
Leon grunted at your appraisal, you felt the fingers over your neck twitch, knowing he was holding himself back from using all the strength he had in his one hand. You tried your hardest to pry your eyes open, you needed to see him.
“You’re such a slut, letting yourself get fucked to get out of trouble,” He spit out at you in between hard thrusts and heavy breathing. You practically felt the tip of his dick hit your stomach every time he thrust in, and from the sounds alone, you knew it had you soaked. You already knew he was a big man, but watching him in his bulletproof gear had you even weaker than you were before, this big heavy guard taking advantage of you, using you, and you loved it.
Your legs wrapped around his torso, hoisting your hips up to feel more, get him deeper, if it was even possible. 
You could barely even breathe, every move that Leon made inside of you made your head spin, every noise he made turned you to jelly, every thrust had you whining so hard you were sure you were going to lose your voice. 
The pressure on your throat lifted, and the sharp intake of cold air down your windpipes made you dizzy. Opening your eyes, Leon was now back to his position on his knees, still fully sheathed inside of you, and with a slick motion, and the wettest sounds you had ever heard from yourself, he slid out, leaving you empty.
You didn’t even have time to process the movement before Leon had his hand on your arms and was turning you over, bare chest to the cold floor, and you unintentionally shuddered. Using your arms to the best of your ability to hold yourself up, you felt them shake violently, and knew they would give out any time soon. 
Looking up, you saw Leon reach forward and pull his discarded jacket down from the back of the chair, sliding it under your head, and pressing you back down by the nape of your neck. You couldn’t help but moan.
Strong hands settled on your hips, and you had to bite the material under you to muffle the scream as Leon pushed himself back into you, every nerve on fire as he hit the deepest spots you didn’t know existed. This time, he was relentless, like he promised.
You could barely hear him through your own screaming and whining.
“Take it like a whore, I know you can…” A slap to your ass, more tears from your eyes. “Fuck, so good, you’ll learn now…” Hands in your hair, pulling your head up. “I’m gonna fill you up, like a fucking slut,” 
Barely processing anymore, your head a mess and eyes full of tears, you only registered the small change when you felt his arm around your waist, fingers teasing circles into your clit while still pounding into your pussy, still getting wetter by the second. The new feeling had your legs spreading wider for him, further weakening you, your thighs shaking with a strong timber you know no man had ever given you before.
“L-Leon…” It didn’t even sound like words anymore at this point, but Leon got the idea. He pressed harder into the soft nub, making you bite back into his jacket and moan loudly. 
“Come on, I know you can cum for me,” Two more thrusts had him in, and you felt the shaft of his cock pulsing erratically inside of you as he released his seed in you, not waiting for you to say he could or not, but knowing he was going to anyway. 
The feeling of being filled to the brink was what send you over the edge, his fingers still making work and his dick milking itself dry inside of your tight walls had you clenching around it, ragged breaths taking your body hostage as white flashed before your eyelids, and Leon knew he had made you finish, especially in the way your body crumpled underneath him.
Swallowing hard, your throat dry, you slowly came back to reality, and your vision cleared. You felt hands on your waist, slowly rolling you over to lay on your back.
Leon was positioned over you, edge in his eyes long gone, face shiny and slick from sweating, all his hair nearly limp over his face. He looked like a completely different person.
“Are you alright?” Still not knowing if you can speak, you nodded, letting your mouth re-salivate. He pinched your chin delicately between his forefinger and thumb, moving your head to the side to expose your neck. “If I bruised you, I didn’t mean to.”
You shook your head. “It will give me something to cover my disappearance with.” You had no idea how long it had been, but with no contact to Carlos back at base, you wouldn’t be surprised if your entire team flanked the building at this very second to rescue you. Now how to get out with an entirely ripped bodysuit…
“Consider my offer.” Leon mumbled, clear enough to hear, but low enough to hear his exertion. “I was serious.”
You blinked slowly at him, not seeing his expression change at his offer. “If I accept, I’m not a criminal you’ll have to put in place anymore.”
At this, he smiled, and dipped his head down to kiss you again, possibly one of the only times he had that night.
“Honey,” He pulled away. “You’ll always be a criminal.”
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