#Though Denied has more blue in his palette

[animeomegas]

Would Neji be considered a sad beige mom 🤔

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This is one of the funniest questions I've ever received and it's making me question everything.

I mean... Kind of 😭 Here's how I imagine his home:

Which I feel like... yes, he's a bit of a sad beige mum. He would make the pillows blue or green though, I think. He's okay with pops of nice muted colours lol.

This kind of colour palette:

His home is a bit more traditional, and he's not a professional interior designer, so it's not as swanky as the rooms above, but that's what he aims for.

He's also more than happy to hang up colourful children's drawings, and boxes of toys (plastic toys are banned, toys that make noise are especially banned, but colour is more than allowed.)

But yeah... I won't deny that he has sad beige mum energy haha!

[hrts4wonu]

minghaos who takes his time when drawing any portrait of you, making sure to get every detail of your beauty

a/n: oh my god jasmine??? i just started reading your fanfics last night and let me tell you, i was so damn obsessed; i'm not sure if this is a hard thought or anything but i did try to make it smut (with a little bit of fluff and comfort)

wc: 1.7k

-

today was like any other day. well, not technically. today was your boyfriend's project's due date. he was supposed to draw a portrait of the person that means a lot to him; though he first thought of his very own mother, he remembered the first few words you said when you met him.

(flashback)

those few sweet words that came out of your mouth like it was nothing; "i love your artstyle, maybe you should draw your future girlfriend, yeah?" you chuckle as he turned to look at you. "pardon?" he says, a little confused.

"i'm talking about me, hao." he laughs at your straightforwardness and displays a warm smile at you while he remains seated.

you laugh along comfortably, sitting next to him while staring at the canvas that was filled with colorful strokes of red, orange, yellow, blue and pink. "you assume too much, don't y'think?" he teased as he cups your cheeks, tucking your hair behind your ear. "well, you never know, do you?" both of you chuckle together before he picks up his paintbrush and finishes his artwork.

(end of flashback)

that was long ago, yet, the memory itself never fails to melt his heart. though, he couldn't deny; he has drew you before. a couple of times actually.

the problem was, all of them just seemed bad to him. he doodled and sketched your face everyday in class; thinking that everytime he drew you with a different pen or pencil, his sketches get more terrible each day. (and yet he still managed to get good grades even though he doesn't pay attention in class because he's always drawing you)

and so, he never showed you, until you found his sketchbook in his room on your 5th monthsary. he was pretty embarrassed about it, but your praises on his drawings were enough to boost his ego and confidence.

while he quietly sits down on his chair, staring into his computer, he slowly turns to look at you with a nervous smile on his face.

"darling," he starts off, standing up and approaching you on the bed. you hum in response, dropping your phone and looking back at him. "do you want to become my reference? it's for an art project."

you nod, changing your position on the bed. "what do you need me to wear? a dress, or--"

"need you nude, baby." the temptation from his voice was enough to electrify something inside of you; feeling a bit flustered from what he said. "..if you're comfortable with it, of course. i wouldn't want to make myself look like i'm into creepy things like this, yeah?" he adds. "if you really don't wanna, it's fi--"

"mm." you shook your head no. "it's fine," though it seemed aberrant to minghao (because of how much of a gentleman he is), the longing ache in you was basically killing you.

a few minutes later, you slowly got out of the bathroom with a robe on. you were nervous of him judging you, the way your body was built, your skin tone, or maybe that was just your neediness that's getting to you.

he puts on a smile and gives you a warm hug, "take it off when you're ready, hm?" minghao whispers in your ear, leaving a small kiss.

you nod, "yeah."

minghao slowly lets go and stands behind his canvas; squeezing out all the paint onto his palette. he quickly grabs his paintbrush and starts speaking up once more, "hey," he sat down on the tiny chair. "there's still time to back out if you're really not into thi--"

"minghao? is there something wrong?" you throw your robe to the side, crossing your arms which squished your tits from below a bit.

he shook his head, "no, not at all." he looks away and focuses back on his canvas.

minghao couldn't help but stare at you for a bit longer, he didn't know what to say or do at all. it's not like there is a problem- it's that you're there, with no clothes on, and you're on full display.

but besides that, you're gorgeous.

absolutely admirable and so, so, so, so, so beautiful. to him and only him. maybe even to the whole world.

countless hours pass by and minghao was finally done with his work, "baby?" he stands up and dusts his hands off.

"did you fall aslee- oh." you quietly let out muffled moans as you try fingering yourself on the sofa; if only you could see the greed and devotion in his eyes while he painted your figure, he would've dropped his paintbrushes to the floor and take care of you already.

the sweet smile on his face disappears and instead turns into a wicked yet sinister smirk.

minghao cups your cheeks. "let me help you baby, yeah?" he coos, crouching down to give you a soft kiss on the lips before falling onto his knees.

"p-please.." you beg, withdrawing your hand from your pussy but before you could wipe it on the couch, minghao grabs it and slides it in his mouth, licking your small digits that were unlike his long, veiny hands. "hao.." you whine at the sight.

"what is it, pretty girl?" he places his hands on both of your thighs, spreading them apart. "need me?"

you nod. "i've been longing, hao."

he starts kissing your inner thighs; wet lips enough to get you even wetter than you were 10 seconds ago. though your legs were now resting on his shoulder, he still had a firm grasp on them. his nails dug onto your skin, leaving temporary crescent-shaped nail marks onto them.

"so have i, darling." he replies, leaning in towards your pussy, his nose bumping with your clit.

you whine when you feel the pleasure; it's overwhelming, yes, but it feels so good that you can't even utter a single word. not even a single one, the only thing you can let out is a moan.

he licks your pussy's lips and starts eating you out, the sweet taste not leaving his tongue. "f..fuck, hao,"

"mind your language or i'm gonna leave you aching on this sofa, y/n." he threatens and you slightly look away in embarrassment when you saw his bloodthirsty eyes darken in lust. "you wouldn't want that, would you?" he leans back, away from you as the wind's cold breeze comes in contact with your skin.

you shook your head no gently, replying to his question. "well, it's not like you could ever leave me hanging like that, hao." you tease.

he scoffs; "there's always a first time for everything, sweetheart. you should know that." he stood up and quickly switches your position in missionary, pinning you down on the sofa and pressing your legs against your chest and his.

"but, hey." you look at him in confusion as he unzips his pants and pulls his cock out. it was long and veiny, t'was so outstanding and beautiful. something so out of this world. "contrary to what mingyu said before," he breathes, fixing his position on top of you as he leans close enough to your ear. "most of the greatest works of art don't know how great they are not because they're unreal, instead, it's because they don't see the talent in the artist's eyes that were enough to make the painting as appealing as it already is." his hot breath against your ear makes you tremble, "you're just like an artwork, you know?" he teases.

"really?" he nods. "you think so?" your cute puppy eyes, begging and pleading for his angry, red tip was enough to send him to the edge but as punishment, he will make you wait longer.

after a few more minutes of teasing, he finally gives in and thrusts inside of you.

you moan loudly, holding onto his body, yet it seemed so unfair because you were basically naked and he still had his shirt on. "mm.." he looks at you, stopping his thrusting as he felt a little confused.

"what is it, hm?" you slowly tug at his shirt and he finally gets it. "ah, i see." he smirks and takes his shirt off.

he goes back to thrusting inside of you and you let out another moan, "m-mmh!"; he grunts as he thrusts even harder, not stopping for even a breath.

you squirm, putting your hand over your mouth to keep your mouth shut yet you can't help yourself but moan even louder. he notices this and he stops for a moment, leaving you hanging which made you ache for more (though it's not like he could pull out because your pussy was basically sucking him back in), grabbing your hand pinning them over your head as he fucks into you.

"h..hao!" you moan loudly as you felt him hitting that 'sweet spot' inside of you. "hao.." you breathe, starting to pant as your legs start trembling. "i-.. i'm so close.." you whine continuously as his hand lets go of your wrists, traveling down to your nipples.

he rubs them gently, leaning in and licking them clean. minghao does the same for the other breast making you moan and yearn for more;

"i..i'm gonna cum, please.." you beg.

"please what, baby?" he smirks, pulling his lips away from your lips and staring into your doe eyes. "tell me," he starts. "tell me what you need, i'll give you everything. every single thing just for you, my lovely, pretty girl."

you look at him with desire and thirst. "need to cum, please.."

everything was testing him; no, no, no.. that's not the right word, is it? let's try that again-- everything was arousing him. it felt like you were tormenting eachother using their own bodies. everything was so tempting to him, he couldn't help but give in; "cum for me, princess," he says with a smirk on his face. "do it, make me proud, okay?"

it wasn't that long until you reach your climax and you came on his cock. he helps you ride your orgasm until he reaches his, planting his seed inside of you.

the both of you catch your breathes together before he pulls out of you and places a warm, loving kiss on your temple; "come on, let's clean you up, hm?" despite being exhausted, you shot him a smile and he stood up, carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. "mhm.." you manage to say, still trying to catch your breath from what had just happened.

"hao, i love you." you say, with a smile on your face as you return his kiss back, instead, this time it was on his lips. "i love you too, baby."

a/n 2: sorry this took so long,, i had work and i was slightly busy.. but anyways, i'm FINALLY done! it didn't turn out how i expected it to be yet i still think it's a little better than what i usually write. besides that, i'm really, really glad to make a minghao fanfic so please ask / request for more <3

[leomae]

A Sunset to Remember

The brisk air nips at your nose as you playfully step through a carpet of crunchy golden leaves, you take a deep breath, enjoying the freshness of the air and the musty earthy scent, you smile as the breeze caresses your cheeks, and with a final gaze at the warm palette of red and amber trees before their branches get bare you quicken your steps, small sharp puffs of air start to escape your lips as you walk at a fast pace making your way through the winding trail to the top of the hill.

The sudden clearing at the top reveals the most perfect spot to watch the sun sink below the horizon, painting the sky with pinkish-orange behind the clouds.

As you arrive, the sun is just beginning to set, and again you see him, sitting cross-legged on the ground, sweat dripping from his burly muscles and eyes closed as if he were meditating, with the wind gently blowing through his spiky blond hair, he looks so calm and peaceful, and you can't help but feel the butterflies in your stomach start fluttering, he is so attractive, and you can't deny how every time you approach the hill, your heart races with excitement, you can't wait to see him again, and it's strange to you how you always find him here at this exact time. At first, you were annoyed that someone has discovered your secret spot and how all of a sudden this wasn't your special place anymore. But as days passed by, you began to feel more comfortable around him and even found yourself enjoying his company, his presence became a familiar and welcome part of your fall evening routine, a spontaneous date between two strangers even though none of you dare to speak.

You always wonder if he comes here for the same purpose as you, or if he just wants to be away from the noise of the city, away from people, you wonder if your appearance bothers him, but you never dare to ask, you just get closer to where he sits and you settle next to him with your eyes fixated on the fire of the setting sun in the sky, you feel your breathing getting steady as you allow your body to relax, you pull out from your backpack a small box of cookies, you open it and you silently offer him one but he always shakes his head in refusal, and it's been like this every day since the first day of fall.

The surrounding forest is suddenly silent, which gives you relief and allows you to feel safer, peaceful, and grounded.

As the sun falls down and before the moon starts to peek out from behind the clouds, you start feeling a little upset that the most beautiful sunsets are faster in the fall, but you still stand up, flick the dust off your clothes and turn your way back to reach home in time, and he always does the same, this time he picks his bottle of water and jacket off the ground and follows you in a similar pace, you wonder if he does this to protect you, or it's just time for him to leave the forest too, you can always feel his gaze on the back of your head, but you refuse to turn around to meet his eyes, instead, you keep yours focused on the trail as you make your way out of the forest with small fast steps.

Your heart always feels heavy as soon as you both arrive at the side of the road, a mix of feelings rushes through your chest, the sadness of the silent goodbye, the feeling of dread as you watch him walk away, not knowing if you'll ever see him again, and the excitement over the potential reunion tomorrow.

But today you refuse to turn back and watch him leave, instead, you raise your head to see the sky turning to a beautiful shade of blue as you keep your steps steady and unhurried on the sidewalk.

Unexpectedly, this time, you hear a husky voice from behind, you turn in surprise to meet a pair of crimson orbs looking at you with a soft expression, you smile at the blonde as he approaches you, and he tries to look away so you won't see his flushing cheeks. And as soon as he reaches you, he put his jacket around you and says

"I..I'll walk you home"

A special thanks to the lovely @kaidabakugou for beta-reading 🧡

[newdawndetergent]

Already Here / 2 / 3 / 4

Woah holy shit art!!!

Starting off the slight renovations to this blog is a lineup of some major characters!

Should be of note that Minerva+Jazz+Mainframe are mainly here to restylisation because i drew their fullbodies on iArtbook and transferred them to Procreate in case i needed to lineup most of the cast together.

I won’t be doing character bios mainly because they’re really hard to find the right words and i prefer to show what they’re like as opposed to tell you via bio and then accidentally contradict that

(design notes below the readmore)

[ Design Notes for Each ] :

Mainframe - He has the least changes, mainly colour alternations such as his legs having the darker blue + those little spines, his chest biologhts being reworked a bit, and his collar fur resembling a boa.

Jazz - He gets his shoulder thingies replaced with wheels! Because of his three-wheeler alt mode he’s somewhat asymmetrical and he gets his epic decorative paint i should’ve given him when i first drew his full body!! Overall not too many changes.

Minerva - Has THE least changes from when i first drew her in iArtbook, she mainly has an upgrade to her arm doors and minor colour alterations.

Soundwave - New on of the bunch, their proportions were hard to nail down as i wanted to retain the blockiness yet not make them look to childlike. At first they had a palette similar to Shuttlespace aka the Icon con before i chose the more greyish cooler tones though i won’t deny that they still have a tiny resemblance to Shuttlespace (though there Is no relation between them). I still wanted to give them their shoulder cannon as since they resemble G1 SW they felt somewhat incomplete without it, but now it’s a little bag!

That’s also kinda why their chest has that little badge, since the Autobot-Decepticon war doesn’t happen and the allegiances themselves are relegated to laser tag. Their chest felt weirdly empty without an insignia so the bad compensates (and it doubles as their personal emblem).

[dribs-and-drabbles]

Vice Versa ep 7

After last week's ep I had wished that ep 7 could be something bright and playful (like orange) but I thought we were in for a more muted ep, so I thought orange might have come later...but it seems that despite Aou's seemingly foreshadowing description of their next script ("It's a love story that seems funny but it's not) this ep was - wait for it - vice versa -> A love story that seems sombre but it's not...it's actually "lively...but contemplative" (Talay's interpretation of orange).

Anyway, many scenes had the usual red, blue, black, white, green, yellow (Pang's top in the below scene) and brown...

And it's interesting that the Sunset Orange palette included brown on the darker end (and yellow on the lighter) because this ep was quite serious in places. Like below, when Talay tells Puen he thinks Pang is Puen's portkey...and in a way Talay kind of has a point - if they were portkeys then wouldn't they have already dreamed and gone back? I've seen some people comment how it might be because Puen is holding back about his identity but I hope it's something more than this. Talay is therefore trying to push Puen away in order to protect him and this seems to be reflected in how very little red there is here (just a small object behind Talay by the sink).

Green also got paired with purple again, as complementary colours, when Talay was trying to get Puen and Pang to connect as portkeys.

And then again, four of the usual colours featured in Puen's bedroom (red and blue, and black and white), but more importantly the first bit of orange and it's when Talay and Puen have a moment of tussle and play on the bed and then in the bath. Incidentally, it was at this point I was writing how their interactions really did not look like people who were 'just friends'...the line between friends and boyfriends is being definitely blurred...and not long after this it cut to Fuse's wonderful t-shirt and I yelled at the screen (but more on that below).

Then, the colours shift to pastel tones (even Pangs beautiful shirt was a light blue with pink and yellow flowers) and I wonder if the pastel pink is to continue showing how Talay is trying to push Puen away towards Pang...

And so we get another of Fuse's fantastic commentary shirts and this one is as subtle as a slap in the face. More than that, it's providing the black against Talay's white, and the red against the blue of Talay's shirt...and the clothes that Talay changes into for the cinema are yellow and a very dark green. I like that the writing on the shirt is red because after the absence of red, and with Talay's insistance that Puen connect with Pang, this writing in red is an extra subliminal message...it really is about Puen. If only Talay could read English, I guess...

Anyway, at the cinema, I loved how the production team had complemented the yellow and blue in the lights and green and beige in the furniture with the characters' clothes. Notice with the absence of Puen there is also very little red again. I also liked the use of the flashback to the cinema scene in ep 5 when Talay was in an orangey-brown and white shirt and Puen had an olive-brown t-shirt and pale green shirt... It makes me wonder if they'll use more flashbacks to scenes which have colours that match a future episode colour.

After the cinema, Talay goes to visit Puen but again he's wearing a very pale pink shirt (ironically when he's stating once more that he doesn't like pink...sure Jan) and even though Puen joins the gang again in the below scene and at their road trip away, red is very much absent. Talay is continuing to push Puen away, to deny the connection they have and Puen is feeling more and more adrift.

At the association, it's not surprising that there is an abundance of the ep colour (since it's happened a few times now) but notice again that there is some red and blue as well as black and white (one could even say some yellow and green with the light and the plant...). I love the mural on the wall behind Dol, and the darker burnt orange and brown tones reflect the seriousness of the conversation between Dol and Talay. (I miss Joobjang!)

And so then we get the reconciliation and unspoken confession...and the frame is filled with the red-brown bricks of the arch (it's been subtle in the show but archways have been featured quite a few times). Need i say more?

Now...next week, I wonder again if it might be a charcoal palette...or...I've seen someone talk about sea foam green as being used this ep as a complement to sunset orange, so maybe it will be something similar to that...but I also wonder about red/pink now that Talay and Puen have 'chosen' each other... There doesn't seem to be much pink/red in the trailer but I feel like the ep colour is being featured a bit less that it was in the beginning, so the trailer might be misleading. We'll see!

[Ep 1] [Ep 2] [Ep 3] [Ep 4] [Ep 5] [Ep 6] [Ep 7] [Ep 8] [Ep 9] [Ep 10] [Ep 11] [Ep 12]

[lisxdumbr]

anyway. spider-verse thoughts

i love pavitr and i wish he got more screen time he was so silly. beloved character. dear to me. i love his entire rant abt chai. that was so good. and hobie!!!!!! silliest dude. love the anarchist brit. i love how he like kind of does fuck-all in almost every scene he is in yet simultaneously is the most chaotic dude in the room. respect. he is also very dear to me and i look forward to seeing more of his dimension in the next movie <3 gwen is so tgirl btw. like her entire dimension is mostly blue-pink-white and purples???? and in the entire conversation with her dad it's all blue-pink-white in the background??? and her entire "the people i love can only know half of me!" like ?!?!??! ? AND WHEN HE ACCEPTS HER THE ENTIRE SCENE TURNS ONLY WHITE AND PINK?????? i love her dearly. gwen deserves the world btw. miles was !!! ough i love seeing his growth. going from being all cocky and confident to terrified of what's going to happen like. he's still a child even if he has to act as a grown up !!!! ough. spot being the most cringefail wet pathetic villain and then going to actually being terrifying was one of the best villains yet btw like. he goes from the most wet and pathetic guy to actually downright terrifying and i love that for him. #growth.

ALSO MIGUEL. Miguel's motif reminds me a lot of Prowler's? like it lacks that sharp synth-y sound that Prowler has in his theme but the underlying sense of unease and danger is so similar. i think miguel is going to be a villain in the next movie tbh. he seems kind of... i dunno. like he's holding on too tightly and believes the only right way is his way?

anyway. loved seeing gwen assemble everyone in the end :) peter and mayday!!!! noir and peni !!!!!!! spiderham !!!!!! hobie and pavitr and spider-byte!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! it's going to be so fun in the next movie i think. and god i look forward to seeing noir and peni again i ADORE them

You're so real for everything here

I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE HOBIE. I DON'T KNOW IF I SAID LOVE ENOUGH TIMES ACTUALLY BUT I LOVE HIM IN CASE IT WASN'T CLEAR.

The world. he's so. thehrjwhdhwgGACSVTSBRLORBRVGEAOFMFYNDIIHRVW vany you know I've been a goth punk for the longest time right. right. rightright you don't know how fucking extremely happy I was that there was ACTUAL good punk representation in my screen, since in the past few years it has been extremely hard for me to find a punk community in my city and I've been having to rely on my mother's friends from the alt street market,,, (though I've spotted some in art school ever since I started I think). Hobie makes me very happy, he's so fucking well constructed, he has references to the 70s movement and to the okupa movement (← that's how we call it in spanish srry if it's not the same in English) I love that he actually lives for the original concept y'know.

ALSO HAVE YOU SEEN HIS DESIGN. I AMJWBDJENSNQKNAKJEB I'm obsessed OBSESSED. he took out that mask and my heart dropped 50 floors and reached the underground. I love him and his style, perhaps I'm a bit too obsessed (I had a dream with him.. aheem) I need him and his pretty boots to kick me mmmhehhdjf sorryaboutthaticantevenactnormal

ANYWAY GWEN. I love her she's my most specialest girl ever. T Gwen is so real I can't believe there are people denying it???? The color palette and the way she talks about herself. There's a fucking TRANS FLAG IN HER ROOM and people are like "um she can have that flag because she's an ally not because she is trans" and I'm like. Amount of cis people I've met with trans flags in their room = 0. There are people saying that it's because Peter was the trans guy which I mean yeah, would make sense, but why not both. both is good.

Anyway Gwen's world is def my favorite, I love the aquarelle texture and how it's the world in which the color affects the environment the most. My favorite scene is the one where she confronts her dad, the way you can see her hair turning pink and blue and how at the end all the colors become warmer and GHHHFRFHR I love her so much.

Anyway I have a lot of thoughts I'm going to scream and cry. I kinda want a spiderverse theme but there are so many good images, I don't know what to use

[itstheimpossibledream]

Superuncle

Word Count:1836

Pairing: Henry xOFC educator 

Warning: Smut,Size kink

Summary :Henry's nephew is convinced he's superman and the teacher has warned him that telling 'tall tales' is incredibly unethical. However, when he brings his uncle to class you are forced to eat your words...and more??

Please don’t repost my fics without my permission!

"I'm so sorry I - I " Henry cuts you off.

"It's  really quite alright. I'm sure he usually is exaggerating in class." he chuckles more to himself than to you, but you find it endearing that he's quirky enough to laugh that hard at his own words, or was it nerves? You couldn't pretend as though you hadn't seen the movie with your friends and drooled over his body but, if an incredibly good-looking , movie star uncle was indeed related to a kid in your class this was the first time the PTA moms had neglected to fill you in on some juicy gossip.  You reached for the lock on your bike, you had to admit it wasn't the most impressive ride but, it got you where you needed to be without wasting the gas money. 

"If you need a lift I drove Tom to school today so ...." He trailed off but, whether he had out of humility or not, You knew better than to deny a moviestar offering to spend time with you.

"O - uh sure. Can I throw my bike in the back?" Before you knew it, he was lifting the bike into the truck as though it was nothing. You admired the movement of the muscles in his back, through his shirt as he swung his arms back to his sides. He must have noticed you were staring but, clearly didn't mind as he opened the passenger side door for you.

You could feel your nerves propelling you through the car ride , knowing you were talking a mile-a-minute but also much to embarrassed to stop. You directed him, and eventually , he pulled up to your house. The truck roared into the driveway and you watched as he gingerly lowered your bike from the bed and wheeled it into your garage.

"So how long have you lived here?" he furrowed his brow as he asked, looking up at the house. 

"O I started teaching there right after college,moved into this house maybe a year later?Four years." you say looking at him, stopping yourself from rambling as you push your key into the door knob.

"Would you ummm- like to come in for a drink or something ?" You watched as the corner of his mouth upturned. The silence broke as you clicked  the lock open.

"After you." he bellowed, you felt a jump in your stomach at his acceptance of your offer. The heft of the door swung behind you and he caught it, closing it gently. You set your bag down on the table and walk to the kitchen. Reaching  for the glasses you push up on the counter, you feel him steady your hips as you come down with the first glass. A million things flash through your mind but, the most prevalent is that he is touching you. A very hot movie star is touching you. You roll back up on your toes to grab the second glass, and his hands move lower this time. He moves towards your crotch, rubbing you through your pants and it's clear that he wasn't just assisting you , he was making a move. It was so subtle,possibly practiced but still incredibly hot.

"Is this okay?"his deep baritone begged the question as he whispered it into your hair, never stopping the movement of his hand. You barely managed to exhale “ummmhmmm” while nodding your head , your breath had completely caught in your throat. He must have felt you tense up because he followed up with "We can stop whenever you want." it was genuine, you could tell that.You angled your head to the side so that you could see him, you looked right into his beautiful blue eyes.

"I don't want you to stop. " you whispered back to him breathlessly, leaning in to catch his lips in yours. With that, he kissed you back, moving his hands to undo your pants and slide his hand into your underwear. He pushed a thick finger into you and he laughed at the noise his touch made you illicit. You moaned into his mouth as his fingers pushed their way inside of you.  You swayed your hips in an attempt to shimmy out of your pants. He noticed and bent down, helping to get the pants over your feet. You both chuckle as he struggles, pulling the pants off. 

"God you're gorgeous." he said as he bends you over the counter roughly, you hear him fumbling with his belt but nothing really registers until you feel him sliding his thickness along the outside of your entrance. You allow yourself to moan out again and he grabs your hair up into one hand, pulling your head back, mouth kissing the sky.

"You're such a good girl for me" his voice was low and gravelly. "spread your legs more for me." he whispers, controlling your body with commands over and over again. Not waiting for you to do it as much as he was telling you that he was going to move you. As he lifted your leg, you could feel that he was able to line up and easily slide into you. You couldn't help yourself, you exhaled into all the all the sexual tension that had been between you. 

"I love that sound." he smirked, you turned your head as far as you could to see his dark curls moving in rhythm as he pumped into you. 

"Just like that baby, you're taking me so well." You could feel the butterflies in your stomach jumping at his praise.You groaned again as you shifted your position allowing him deeper inside you. Despite your intent of not seeming easy you moaned loudly, unable to control yourself.

"Please..........please." you begged him, to which he responded by cupping your hip and driving into you slower. He must have felt that it was to much for you to take.Because his pace slowed even more as he lowered his mouth to your ear again saying " I want you to go lay on the bed with your legs open for me okay princess?" He carefully pulled out of you,your legs were wobbly as you peeled your chest off of the granite countertop. "Go now." he said smacking your ass and urging you in the direction of the hallway. You moved as quickly as your legs could carry you, unabashedly letting out a light giggle on the way. As you laid down you could feel his eyes on you.  You spread your legs, trailing your hand down to your core , your fingers moved gingerly as he watched you, rubbing yourself closer and closer to your climax. He stood to the side of your bed, working himself over in his large hand. Taking in his body, the expanse of chest and abs coupled with the faint beginning of hair curling on his chest was driving you insane. His hand seemed so big, and you were mesmerized by his body. 

"Do you want me to fuck you again?"

"Yes.Yes-" you cut off realizing you sounded more eager than you had intended to. He moves to the bed, hovering over you he lifts your chin and kisses you for the first time. It's exploratory but simple, his lips work slow and sweetly,almost as if he doesn't want to push you. Which feels weird considering he'd already been inside you. But, in your own bed doing missionary like a couple that actually knew each other was more intimate, you respected that he was treating it as such. He hummed into you as he deepened the kiss. When he rolled his cock into your hand you heard him let out a deep moan. 

"Wait -wait. Do you have a condom?" he says stopping you. That is not at all what you had expected him say. 

"Yeah." you nodded looking at him but, not moving, partly shocked that he had even asked.He looked in the direction of your nightstand and you nodded again. He opened the drawer, found the condom and tore it open effortlessly. You resumed rubbing yourself under him and he groaned as he rolled the condom on watching you. 

"You're a very slutty teacher" he smirked, lining himself up again at your entrance. 

"Maybe I just don't see the point in using a condom after the fact." you chuckled.

"Maybe I want you to think I'm a nice guy,a good girl like you wouldn't let me fuck again if I wasn't responsible." you chuckled at his response, and he immediately pushed into you. You gasped at the pressure and he put a hand on your lower abdomen. You could tell he was enjoying how your muscles were moving to make space for him. 

" Wearing a condom makes you responsible?" you managed to get out. “Even highschool boys can do that.”you press.

"Makes you think I am" he shrugged, wrapping your arms around his neck and lifting you up to face him.  You could see right into his perfectly blue eyes were glued to yours as he watched your response to the new depth he found within your body.You craned your neck up to kiss him. Before long you had to break the kiss, the pressure in your abdomen  simply becoming to much in building up to your orgasm. You ended up sharing his air as he rocked you into your orgams, your body shaking. You were loud and you didn't care. Once it was clear that you had hit your peak he began driving into you quickly,grunting loudly. His speed lacked nothing as he managed to push you over the edge again, this time with him.

You breathe him in, not breaking eye contact.Memorizing the slight winces in his face as he emptied himself into you. 

"Holy shit- holy shit." you exhale between deep breaths. He runs a hand through his hair and begins laughing, his canines shining in the afternoon light, perfectly slotted between your shades.

“Holy shit is right.”he exhales, chest heaving again. You watch the rise and fall of the small  curly hairs on his chest, wishing to touch him but, not knowing if that would be okay yet.You settled for rolling onto your back and covering your face in your hands. 

“You alright? Did I do something wrong ?” He asks calmly awaiting your reply. When you remove you arm, you see him hovering above you, a palette of concern painting his face.

“I just-I usually don’t sleep with someone as soon as I….” you trail off into a mumble and he leans in , kissing you and silencing your worries. His hand encases your throat, as he moves it up to clutch your jaw.

”You don’t have to worry about that love.Your secret’s safe with me.”He pecked you on the lips again and wrapped you up in his arms. It was oddly easy being held by him, and you allowed yourself to be lost in him, effortlessly. 

[inazuman]

My Queen (let me confess my lust to you)

The pro-hero event features an exclusive pre-viewing of the royalty display at the museum. The party is a success, and the crowd oohs and ahhs over the marvellous jewels. As the party moves from the display to the bar, you go to shut off the lights and make sure all the security is running perfectly when your boyfriend, Aizawa, decides he’d like to keep you company – and you both get a little… distracted.

Words: 4.4k Content and warnings: Aizawa Shouta x Reader, smut, reader-insert, reader identifies as a woman with a vagina and goes by she/her, THRONE SEX, Aizawa is your boyfriend, he calls you his queen, Dom!Aizawa, sub!reader, though I think the dom/sub tendencies are medium to lowkey, not an au – he’s a pro-hero, oral (both f and m receiving), you ride Aizawa on the throne, semi-clothed sex, plot what plot / plot no plot, use of a variety of other nicknames as well: baby, baby girl, kitten, not proof read Author’s note: thank you so much for your support my last fic! I hope you enjoy this one and I hope to be writing more <33 cheers!~  

“You’re mine.” He says roughly into your ear, his breath ghosting over. “You’re a queen, but you’re my queen. Mine to touch. Mine to give pleasure to. Mine to make cum. Mine to fuck.”

What a wonderous and successful event. You are the incredible go-to event planner for all hero events, with a keen eye for graceful colour palettes and an expertise on luxury. And no one could deny how well this event has gone. The theme is royalty, and the ballroom is filled with displays and high-security casings of the most expensive jewels and jewellery made fit for kings and queens. The crowns and tiaras are placed softly on plush cushions. People filter through to see each displayed item and gawk at the price of them. Heroes and their helpers fill the room. You’re proud of the event, and proud to be here with Aizawa Shouta, a pro-hero and your ever-loving boyfriend. You’re wearing a beautiful, midnight blue gown with a thigh slit and gold jewellery. The velvet material is soft at touch and comfortable. The main event ended about an hour ago and all the guests have now left, moved on to the open bar downstairs to drink and dance. You lead all the remaining people out and guide them to the bar, and your boyfriend joins you to check up on all the items and lock up the room. The ballroom is stunning, and the displays are even more luxurious. Without the crowd filling the room, you can see each detail in all its glory. Delicate moulding scatters the walls like a gentle breeze, and the jewels sparkle under the chandelier like the night sky. There sits a grand throne at the back of the room. You take the opportunity to fully enjoy each display now that the room is empty. When you grace in front of one of the crowns, you take the crown from the plush cushion it sits on and place it over your head. It balances precariously on the top of your head, and you turn around to show Aizawa with a pose and a large smile on your face. He chuckles and smiles back lovingly. “Fit for a queen like yourself.” He says. You walk up the stairs at the back of the room and take a seat on the throne, sitting with your back straight and crossing your legs whilst looking at your boyfriend, who somehow looks both happy and serious all at once. He’s got his hands in his pockets and he’s watching the way your thigh exposes itself to him when you cross your legs, knows exactly how it would feel in his mind when he runs his finger up and down the area and squeezes the supple flesh with his fingertips. Your heels trace around your ankle and elongate your legs, and the skin glimmers softly in the moonlight. It does something to him, the sleek expanse of your leg and the crown on your head, and he can’t help but think it’s both absolutely adorable and breathtakingly sexy all at once. The room dresses you in a hazy glow, and in that moment he realises he doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have the most stunning woman he’s ever seen right in front of him, fully loyal and belonging to him and him alone. His forearm and hand tenses, almost imperceptibly but enough to illustrate he’s bothered. You look at him curiously, and when you make eye contact you notice that he’s looking at you like he doesn’t know what to do with you. Aizawa comes to the edge of the bottom step, smiles at you and bows deeply to you, and you giggle. He slowly waltzes up the stairs with each graceful step, the noise of his dress shoes echoing across the room, to stand right in front of your throne. He places a finger under your chin, tilting your head up at him, and bends down to kiss you softly. It’s gentle, loving. Perfectly shows the utmost love and respect he has for you. He pulls away, and then kisses you again, deeper this time. He places a hand on the armrest of the throne so that he can more fully bend over you, and runs his tongue over your bottom lip before kissing you again. Your heart starts beating faster, and your hands move to his neck to pull him closer to you. You breathe in his scent – musky and deep. You feel the way his skin moves over the bones of his jaw as he kisses you, the way he swallows when he takes a moment from the kiss to breathe – like he’s just slightly hesitating. Like you’ve taken his breath away. He moves his hands to your hair, and you go to move the crown off your head to give him more freedom with the action. “Keep it on.” Aizawa says as a demand, and the tone sends warmth down your spine. His voice is deep and rough, and the short statement sends something straight to your core. You look at him curiously. You know this tone means he’s serious, and there’s no room for disobedience. You put your hands down from where they were in the middle of the action. He kisses you again, placing his hand on your waist. “My queen.” He states it simply, but sees the way your pupils dilate at the name. He smirks, glad it has the effect he wants on you. He kisses your neck, leaving a mark at the base of your scalp so that it’s easily hidden by your hair. He continues to kiss down your neck and moves down to your cleavage, where your breasts are pushed up oh-so-prettily thanks to the dress. He places a kiss on each breast, and carefully pulls the straps of the dress down to flip over the material and expose the white lace material underneath. He carefully reaches behind you and unclasps your bra, throwing it over the backrest of the throne. You spread your legs to give him space between them as he focuses his attention on your breasts. He swirls his tongue around one of your now-exposed nipples, then uses the tip of his tongue to flick it. He notices the way your hands tighten around his strong triceps when he does so, and does the action again. He places his other hand on the cool skin of your other, unoccupied breast, and rolls that nipple slightly between his thumb and pointer finger. He then engulfs the nipple he’s been toying his tongue on into his mouth and sucks, whilst his other hand gropes your breast. You run your hands into his hair to move his face closer into you at the sensation, feeling yourself getting wetter. He then swaps to do the same again to the respective breast, tonguing at it whilst his fingers pinch and pull at the other now-wet nipple, the slick of his spit giving him the lubrication for him to be more aggressive with it. He takes the nipple between his lips and sucks harder than he did the first time, until he hears your quiet whimpers above him. He then moves to place kisses and hard sucks on the underside of your breasts. He makes his way down your body, kissing your navel until he’s down on his knees in front of you. He spreads your legs so that one is over the arm rest of the throne and the other, the leg with the thigh slit, is gently thrown over his shoulder. He turns his head to place a kiss on the inside of your knee, then another at the bottom of the inside of your thigh, another one a little higher. He keeps going up slowly, looking up at you and making perfect eye contact as he teases you. He places a kiss on your clothed core, breathing in the scent of you, and the way he’s looking at you is as if it trances him. It makes you feel like the world is tilting on its axis. He notes that the fragile material of your underwear does nothing to hide how wet you are. Or the sweet scent of you. Or the ridges of your labia and cunt, which are now blossomed open due to the arousal you were feeling. He runs three of his fingers up and down the garment, pressing into it with each finger individually over and over again like a wave. He slides the underwear down your legs and over your heels, then pockets it into his suit jacket. Your legs presume their previous position. Aizawa sighs at the sight of your pussy in front of him. He runs his hands up and down your thighs, pressing his thumbs into your inner thighs. “Shouta...” you start to say, wondering why he’s just looking and not doing anything, “what are you-“ “I’ve always wanted to know what royalty tastes like,” Aizawa says, and then takes a long swipe of his tongue from the bottom to the top of your slit, moaning at the sweet and salty taste of you on his tongue. It reminds him of strawberries and a sea breeze, and he just can’t get enough of you. “Oh,” you speak, your voice airy and breathy as you immediately coast your fingers through his long locks, lightly scratching at his scalp, “oh, fuck. Oh, Shouta.” He runs the tip of his tongue over the outer lips before moving back to the inner portion, then swipes his tongue up and around your clit, careful to avoid your clit so that he could tease you just a little bit. He’s very much the brat tamer, and if you were both at home he would be edging you over and over and over again for the public indecency you’ve led him to right now, but you’re still in public so he’ll save that for later. He zigzags his tongue from the bottom of your cunt all the way to the top, making you wait as he gets closer to your clit and does a singular swipe over it, the anticipation making the sensation all the more extreme. Then he repeats it again, loving the way your body is getting frustrated at him. He lets you off on it and changes tactics before you get too frustrated. He moves his tongue towards the part of you that’s tensing around nothing, and you feel the warm muscle enter your canal. He takes a short pause to take his fingers and put them into your mouth, and you can smell yourself on him from when he was touching you over your underwear. He then inserts one of those fingers inside of you slowly, and you feel every inch of his long finger slide into your tight hole. He very gently and slowly curls his finger towards himself, catching on an area that has you gasping and moaning. He returns his mouth to your cunt to lick around his finger as it plummets into you, still purposefully avoiding your clit. He finally, finally, pays some attention to your clit as he traces the tip of his tongue around the nub. He’s taking his time, wanting to feel every crevice of your pussy glide over his soft muscle. He circles again, and then again. He then takes a soft kitten lick at your clit. He varies pressures as he continues to kitten lick slowly over and over again, testing to see your reaction to it so that he can give you the right pressure without overstimulating you. He finds the perfect way, and slowly increases his pace. You moan louder for him, nails digging into the back of his head and pulling his face towards your hot core as the pace increases and the pressure gets just a little bit harder. He’s listening carefully to the way your breath catches each time he licks the sensitive bundle of nerves. He looks up at you and sees the way your back arches and your neck is thrown back to expose so much of your decolletage, breasts exposed out of you dress. Your nipples are hard and aching, with light stimulation from the breeze. Aizawa is unbelievably hard under you, enamoured by your soft thighs and the way that your breaths and whimpers sound. He’s unconsciously rutting just slightly into the air, craving for stimulation that he won’t let himself have until he makes you cum hard over his tongue. Which he knows he’s close to. He can feel the way the thigh that’s over his shoulder is tensing and releasing over and over again, how you’ve now moved the other leg that was previously on the armrest to instead rest on his other shoulder as you can’t resist from closing your thighs. He can practically see your heart beating out of your chest as your breathing becomes harboured your breaths coming hard and fast like the way he’s ceaselessly lapping at your clit, your hips tilting towards his mouth more. He takes your clit between your lips and sucks lightly, making you moan at the sudden feeling. Your thighs fully tense, your head tilts up and into the back of the chair, your knuckles grip hard in Aizawa’s hair and moves to grip the armrest. For what feels like almost a whole minute your mind is blank as you hold your breath for a moment before your orgasm crashes into you and you’re crying out his name. Aizawa smiles slightly at the sound of his name bouncing off the walls. He is relentless underneath you despite the fact that you just came all over his mouth. He’s lapping into you from your tensing hole to your throbbing clit, collecting as much of your slick into his mouth as he can as you’re coming down from your high. The feeling ebbs away slowly, and you begin to register the sound of his mouth’s actions as they continue, as well as your own harsh breaths. You start to feel the stimulation on your oversensitive pussy oversensitive pussy. “Ah, ah…” you begin to say softly as you come back to yourself, moving Aizawa’s hair out of his eyes, smiling euphorically at him from your orgasm. And then you realise he’s still not slowing down. “Ah, Shouta… Shouta! Sensitive, so sensitive, too sensitive!” you start, and move the palm of your hand to push his forehead back a little. Aizawa continues regardless, but eventually lets up, smirking at the way your legs are still shaking a little and your pants are slowing. He shifts his weight from his knees to the bag of his heels and looks at you. The length of your dress is draped carelessly away from you and he can see the whole expanse of both your legs. He stands up and scoops you into his arms, sitting on the throne with you on top of him straddling him, crown still placed on your head. Your cheeks are flushed, matching the rubies on the crown that are reflecting the soft starlight coming through the windows. You unbutton his shirt to expose his muscular figure, fingertips raking down his abdomen to feel the muscles there. You run your hands back up his arms, sinking your fingertips into his triceps and watching the way the dress shirt glides over it. You move your hands from his shoulders to either side of his cheeks and jaw, and place a kiss to his lips, tasting yourself on him. You move down his body to kneel in front of Aizawa, similar to how he did to you earlier, taking note of his thick thighs that shift under his dress pants. You unzip his pants and take his cock out, smiling as it springs towards you. It’s girthy, and you wrap your hand around it and move it up and down his shaft with a few strong, slow strokes, listening to his breathing deepen at the sensation. He has a masculine scent, and the hair is trimmed back and well-kept. You almost wonder if he was planning for something like this to happen tonight. You lick the slit at the head of his cock, and Aizawa lets out a groan above you. You lick either side of it a couple times and feel his hand at the base of your scalp tightening. You then take the head of his cock into your mouth, pull away, and then take more of his cock – again and again, until you’ve taken as much of it as you can. You take the base of it into one of your hands, and run your hand up and down his member as you bob up and down it. You can feel Aizawa��s thighs tense around you. All Aizawa can think is that it is such a sight to see his queen, crown and all, looking up at him and taking his cock so well under him. He’s so aroused by this that you don’t do this for long before he’s pulling you back up and over his lap. He gives you a deep kiss, and you feel his tongue swirl in your mouth. As he kisses you, he swiftly takes a condom out of his wallet that he swears is just for emergencies that he didn’t think he had to prepare for, chucking his wallet to the side of the throne. He breaks the kiss for a moment to slide it over his hard member, and you watch the way the edge of the rubber slides over each ridge of the veins wrapped around delicately. As soon as it’s fully down, he smashes his mouth back onto you, running his tongue over the gums right behind your teeth, which has you moaning into his mouth and grinding over him. He can feel how wet you are over his cock, and as you grind again your clit catches onto the head of it, making you gasp. He’s gripping your hips tight, his self-restraint slipping as his urge to just be inside of you increases. He pulls you back from the kiss for a second to lift you up so that he can press the tip of his cock against your cunt. He slowly pushes it in, and you both gasp at the feeling of just the head being inside of you. Your breathing shallows as you sink inch by inch, lower and lower onto him until he’s fully sheathed inside of you. You stay there for a bit, adjusting to his size, and he takes this pause as an opportunity to grab at your butt cheeks, stroking the smooth skin there before gripping hard. “Gods, you look incredible.” He says, and you look down at him and make eye contact. You gasp, as you see so much emotion in his eyes, so unlike what most people think they know about him. He looks at you with love and lust, like you’re a wondrous beauty he caught from the sky. It brings a pang to your heart, to be the reason for it. His eyes are encompassing the view before him, dark blue velvet dress shimmering in the moonlight, your breasts spilling out of the dress from when he pulled the straps down. He can’t help but run his thumb over your erect nipple, making your legs tense and causing you to grind just a little onto him.You can’t take it anymore. You use the armrests of the throne to start to raise yourself up a couple inches, relishing in the way his cock inside your velvety walls, and drop yourself back down, moaning as you feel the head brush your cervix – the pain-pleasure of it feels like a shot of electricity in your veins. And then you do it again, Aizawa watching you the entire time, enraptured by the way you look on top of him. He can feel your slick all around his dick, the way it moves and trickles down as you ride him. He grabs the back of your neck to set a steady pace, nails digging into you as he grits his teeth. “You just had to do all this and look like that, didn’t you?” Aizawa starts, his voice deep and his breaths shallow. “Looking so fucking hot in that dress and that crown, and you expect me to look at you like that and not take you right here.” It amazes you, to listen to him say this. Aizawa, a man of restraint and infinite patience, and yet you did this to him. It spurs you on, making you pant as you continue to ride him. “You know this isn’t my style, baby girl,” he grunts, “fucking you whilst we’re out. But since we’re here, I’m going to give it to you like you deserve. My queen.” And with that his hands move to your thighs, nails digging into your skin, moving you up his member and slamming you back down. He momentarily takes one hand and pulls your face towards him so that it’s right next to his, his lips ghosting over your ear. “You’re mine.” He says roughly into your ear, his breath ghosting over. “You’re a queen, but you’re my queen. Mine to touch. Mine to give pleasure to. Mine to make cum. Mine to fuck.” He emphasises the last word with a considerable thrust of his hips upwards towards you, causing you to arch your back and push your chest towards him. He takes the opportunity to take one of your nipples into your mouth, sucking it roughly. You feel the cold air as his mouth unlocks from it. He’s tightening his grip on your hips hard enough to bruise. You turn your head into the crook of his neck, encompassing yourself in the scent of his musky cologne as you near your peak. He can acutely hear your soft whines, he can tell purely from the sounds you make when you’re close to your orgasm. He knows it like he knows the back of his hand, like he knows how each strand of your hair falls on your head and wraps around his face as he pulls your face a little away from him. He pushes a strand of hair back behind your ear, and places his hand at the base of your scalp. “Look at me.” He says, and you open your eyes to look at him. You can see a slight sheen of sweat covering his neck. Despite how much impact is being made as he’s fucking you, his voice is calm and even. And he’s looking right at you, honeyed gaze fierce and desperate. “You keep your eyes on me the entire time, you got it?” His demand sends a feeling down your spine and you nod feverishly, unable to speak from the stimulation of how hard he’s fucking you, focusing on making both him and yourself feel good. “I expect a response when spoken to, kitten. Don’t tell me you’ve dumbed out so much you can’t even respond with a simple ‘yes’.” You don’t even fully process what he’s saying. Nevertheless, you softly say “yes”. And then you say it again, and again. Yes, yes. You touch foreheads with him as you say this, and you can feel his breath against your mouth. “Good girl.” He shows a soft, genuine smile at your obedience. He rewards you by taking his thumb into his mouth, and then moves it down to your clit. You whine at the extra stimulation, moving one arm to around Aizawa, fingertips digging into the bottom of his scalp and twirling into his hair. You press the other into the top of the throne, using it as leverage to keep riding him. You can feel your impending orgasm, the way your mind blanks out to just the stimulation. All you can hear are Aizawa’s grunts and moans, and your own heartbeat getting faster. You can hear each gasp and deep groan that you elicit out of him. You can feel the way he’s throbbing inside of you each time you lower down onto him, the pace getting faster. You don’t even register the sounds you’re making as your own, but every whimper and moan spurs Aizawa on. He can feel your soft, velvety walls tensing around his hard member every time he twirls his thumb a little over your clit. “Please, Shouta. Please. Please,” you whimper, the last please almost sounding like a whine, letting him know you’re about to reach your peak. “Yeah? You wanna come, queen? Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me so tight. Come, my queen. Come for me.” Aizawa says, and you finally let yourself go. You take one deep breath in, fingernails dig into him hard. And then you clamp around him, back arching, letting out a scream as your orgasm hits you. Your body feels like it’s finally releasing days of tension that it’s been holding on for so long, and you feel his large member so noticeably as you release. At the feel of your tight cunt squeezing him, his thrusts start to falter and slow, and he comes with a grunt. Both of you breathing hard into each other, hearts beating heavy as you slump down over him. He takes your face into one of his hands and pulls you towards him, kissing you softly. You giggle at the intimate action, mind still floating with the aftershocks of your orgasm and the dopamine running through your veins. Aizawa smiles at this. “Thank you, my queen,” he says into your mouth. He looks up at you, and notices how the crown now sits slightly lopsided on the top of your head due to the force of your encounter. You both laugh softly at the predicament whilst taking time to catch your breaths and come down from your high. After a while of being held by your loving boyfriend, his soft cock still inside you, you begin to raise yourself on your knees, placing one foot on the ground with wobbly legs. Aizawa holds you up with his arms to help you stand properly. You take your bra from where it’s been precariously thrown over the throne, and loop your arms back into it. Aizawa removes the condom to discard downstairs later. As he gets up to buckle back his belt and button his shirt, you sit back on the throne to put on your heels. You both laugh and chat as you skip arm-in-arm back to where the crown once was. You go to place the crown back on the plush, velvet cushion it sat on, and lock up the ballroom. You both go down to spend the rest of the party with your now very drunk friends, whilst the both of you are drunk on something else entirely. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author’s end note: Thank you so much for reading! This is very much self-indulgent, I love the idea of throne sex. Also my ex-fwb called me his queen all the time, and he’s very good at giving head and had an oral fixation and used to eat me out for hours so this is lowkey reminiscent of the sex I used to receive irl lol

[jbreenr]

Perfect Gift

Pairing: CEO!Scott Huffman × Reader

Summary: What do you give to someone who has everything?

Word count: 1,237

Warning: None that I know but I would like to add some in a second part. 🤔

A/N: I decided I'll be posting some drabbles (mhm) throughout the week till Saturday. Hope you like 'em at least a little. Happy holidays, everyone! As always, lack of vocabulary and grammatical mistakes abound. *apologizes in español*.

ᴺᵒᵗ ᵐʸ ᵍⁱᶠ ¯ ᶜʳᵉᵈⁱᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵗᵒʳ

Why? Why, out of all the people you worked with, did you have to buy a gift for the boss?

It's not that you didn't like him. On the contrary, you liked him more than you were willing to admit.

And still, that was not the problem.

When you agreed to be a part of the gift exchange that was organized at the office, you expected to be buying a tie, a Radiohead album, a shadow palette at Sephora… Never would you imagine you'd pick Scott Huffman's name to be his secret Santa.

So, here you were, scrolling through the fifth, maybe sixth website, looking for something good enough to give to your boss. There was a hard fifty dollars limit, and you had no idea how you'd make it work. His suits were made of the finest materials, the little accessories he wore were worth more than all your jewels together, and luxuries were not a problem for him.

Snapping the screen of your laptop shut, you let out a long groan of frustration. What were you going to get him if he already had everything and more?

Good news was, you still had two days to decide on something.

There was always a reunion at the office on Christmas eve. A little party for coworkers to hang and have a pleasant time before heading home to their families and abundant dinners.

It was also tradition to exchange presents as a way to get along with more people and break the routine at least for a night.

“Alright, people!” Sarah, the self-assigned coordinator of the dynamic called, clapping her hands to get everyone's attention. “I hope you all have your gifts ready because the game starts… now.”

And as soon as she said that, everyone was in motion, looking for the person they had to give their present to.

You looked for Mr. Huffman, hands behind your back to hide the bag, even though it wasn't necessary.

“Y/N.” You were a couple of steps away from his office when you heard him, freezing you. Panic running through your veins, realizing now how disappointing your gift could be for a man like Scott Huffman. “I was looking for you.” With a head movement, he asked you to follow him inside the office. From the desk, he took a small white bag with a cute ribbon and handed it to you. “Merry Christmas.”

You took the bag, peeking inside to get a look at whatever it was he got you. “Thank you, Mr. Huffman.”

Smiling at him, you were about to give him his gift, ready to run in the opposite direction, before he spoke, “Aren't you going to open it?” He asked curiously, and to those beautiful blue eyes, you could deny nothing.

“Y-yeah, sure.” Holding your own gift under your arm, you took the red little box out of the bag. Opening it, your eyes went from the content to Scott repeatedly. Your lips were parted, moving and trying to say something coherent, but your brain wasn't working anymore.

“What do you think?” His voice brought you back to reality, finally making you able to speak again.

“It, it's beautiful.” And you were as honest as you were shocked. Inside the box, neatly placed was a silver bracelet with a heart shaped pendant, it sparkled with the reflection of the white lights and if you weren't wrong, it was a real diamond. It was… “This is more than fifty dollars, Mr. Huffman. I can't accept it.”

You tried to return the box to him, but he wasn't accepting it.

“Of course you can!” Scott took the bracelet out of the box to show it to you. “The lady that helped me at the store said that it was the perfect gift for a beautiful woman.” He took advantage of your extended arm to clip the bracelet around your wrist. “But if you don't like it, I can change it for something else.”

As impressed as you were about the gift itself, you overlooked his compliment, certain that he would indeed change it if you asked. As well as you were certain he'd choose something more extravagant and, for instance, more expensive.

“No, no. I love it. It's just…” You feel dumb, knowing what waited in the bag under your arm to be opened.

If you didn't know it was impossible, you could have sworn he heard the sound of gears working inside your brain. Jewelry! There was a jewelry store down the street. It was late but with a little luck they'd still be open and, well, you hoped a watch would do.

“I'm your Secret Santa but I forgot your gift in the car. If you wait just a minute, I'll…” You tried to step back, but stumbled upon a chair, which almost made you fall, if it wasn't because of Scott, who reacted as fast as you closed your eyes, waiting for the impact.

“That's strange.” Only when he was sure you were stabilized was he let go. “I heard you telling Lynn that you had it here, with you.” He pointed to the bag you kept carrying, making it clear that by no chance would you leave the building to get a last minute change.

It was clear why you always lost in hide and seek.

Sighing on defeat, you gave him the bag, explaining why you came up with the idea of it and offering to change it for that watch you had in mind. Scott stared at it for a solid minute, watching the patterns, vibrant colors, and feeling its texture.

A soft smile adorned his face when he said, “I've always wanted one of these.” Scott left the piece of cloth in his chair to take off his jacket.

“Really?” Confusion all over the question.

“Yes,” He put on the ugly sweater with trees and snowmen and reindeer, finding it a bit difficult for it to fit his broad shoulders. "but I never really had a chance or an excuse to wear one.”

Outside, the sky was deep dark, making the large window a perfect mirror.

“It looks good on you.” Having nothing else to say, you decided for honesty. You never thought you'd like an ugly sweater that much.

“You think so?” He has that analytic glint you saw him use so often. “Don't I look…” He thought of the best word to describe it, trying not to offend your present. “unprofessional?”

“Well, I think you need some unprofessionalism in your life.” The words left your lips before you could process them. “I--.”

He turned from the window and made his way, slowly, to you. Only when he was closer than he'd ever been was when you realized you hadn't moved an inch.

The back of his hand brushed delicately your blushing cheek. The warmth in his eyes could melt you even though the air conditioning was on.

“I believe that, too.” His eyes descended to your lips, his face growing closer to yours…

“Everyone get together!” At the sudden sound, you opened your eyes. “It's time to see who won the raffle!”

“We should go.” He said against your lips, minty breath hitting your face. “We can pick this up again when the party's over.”

And as he left to join the rest, you cursed Sarah for not hanging a mistletoe right in his office.

[asktensei]

Previously on Tensei’s Birthday Bash:

“Love,” I tug your sleeve, “Is the option of going out still open?”

“Tensei, it’s almost midnight - we can’t go out now,” you retorted.

“I have a sudden urge to go to the beach,” I say, looking out of the window, “The sky looks amazing, doesn’t it?”

“I have to go to work tomorrow, honey,” you say, cupping my cheeks.

“Please, love… for me?”

.

.

.

You turned to face Tensei. You felt his grip on you tighten as you pressed your hands against his soft cheeks. You smiled, seeing him close his eyes and savour the small act.

How could you say no to him? Every single thing he does makes your heart leap. Even by just melting into your touch, all of your rationality is thrown out of the window - just to make this male’s wishes come true.

“You better make me breakfast tomorrow,” you whisper, trying to not break the tension you both built in this small haven.

“Come on, Y/N - it’s my birthday tomorrow! I’ll cook the day after.”

“I don’t care if it’s your birthday, you’re making me breakfast tomorrow,” you got off the bed and went to get your bag.

Once you got your bag, you turned to face Tensei.

God, this man is a literal baby.

“Fine, I’ll make breakfast tomorrow.”

.

.

.

You helped Tensei into his wheelchair and then proceeded to walk beside him, heading to the beach. You enjoyed the soft light hitting your skin, closing your eyes as you gripped the back of Tensei’s seat. A small hum left your lips as you took in the crisp, cold air of the night.

“I told you this was a good idea,” he said, a smug look painted on his face.

You looked at the dark-haired male, annoyed.

“I have work tomorrow, Tensei - I’m scared I might oversleep,” you say, sighing, “...but I do miss the beach.”

“It’s been a long time since we went to our little oasis, hasn’t it?” he said, happiness laced in his voice, “We made a lot of memories there, you and I.”

You smiled, reminiscing all the moments you’ve shared with the former Pro-Hero.

“Do you remember when you tried to burn that ice cream I was eating with your quirk?” you said, laughing, “I remember how disgusted you were when the cream actually entered your engines.”

He tried wiping the cream off of the metal piece but resorted to asking you since he couldn’t clean it properly.

“You remember when a crab pinched your cheeks?” He said, holding back his laughter, “You cried so hard.”

“You can only joke about that when you actually feel the strength of a crab with its claws,” you retort, annoyed by his actions.

“Hey, hey - Wasn’t I the one calming you down?”

He was. He ran to a shop nearby and got an ice pack to cool down your cheek. He sat beside you, rubbing your back as you cried due to the immense pain. He kissed you on your forehead in hopes of calming you down.

“You were - you always have been by my side, Tensei,” You say, ruffling his hair.

“Don’t plan on changing that anytime soon,” he replied, pulling on your sleeve.

You faced the male beside you and instantly you were in awe. The blue tone of the sky had perfectly painted itself onto him, the cool tones brightening his cerulean eyes. His hair softly swished against the strong winds, framing his face so well. You stared at his lips against the soft blue hue of the night. Even against the cold colours, the redness of his lips still managed to shine, making it look so soft.

“You okay?” He asked, worried.

Thank God he didn’t know how much you loved him under this soft light.

“I’m good, Tensei,” you say, turning to the road ahead of you.

.

.

.

You closed your eyes as you stepped into the sea, enjoying the feeling of the warm water brushing against your feet. The heat from the body of water warmed your whole body like a small blanket. You enjoyed the feeling of the soft sand against the soles of your feet, rubbing your skin like a massage. The fresh breeze hit your skin, waking your senses.

It felt as if you came home from a long day at work.

It was so relaxing, so calming.

You missed this - a lot.

You turned to face Tensei enjoying the sea as much as you did. His eyes were closed, taking in the salty yet fresh smell of the breeze.

The blue hues of the night painted his skin so well it was not fair. No one could deny how amazing he looked under the night’s palette - he carried it with such poise.

It was times like this where you were reminded how precious Tensei is. After all, he was the very person who taught you how to love.

His lips lifted into a smile as he opened them and saw you staring at him.

“I am just that good looking, huh?”

Scratch that - he was an annoying ass.

You stared at his legs your heart dropped.

This was the first time he’d ever come to the beach with his crutches.

You knew how much he loved the beach - he loved it even more than you.

He went on and on about his memories with Tenya, his friends and his personal ones that took place on the sand you stood on.

You knew how much he loved the beauty of this little oasis, but he could no longer enjoy it.

He was the one who brought you to this very beach, but could no longer feel the freedom it gave.

If he can’t stand by himself properly, he’ll stand beside me.

“Tensei,” you started, “Do you want to enter the waters with me?”

“I can’t, Y/N…” he trailed off, looking at his crutches.

“I only need to carry you to the sea. You know water buoyancy exists, right?” you remind him.

“But -”

“I’m coming there,” you say, getting out of the water and heading towards him.

You stood behind him, and slowly took his left arm off its crutch and placed it on your shoulder. You gripped his side, pulling him closer to you.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, Iida Tensei,” you say, laughing, “I’ve thought this through - it’ll work. Besides, you still have to get that right arm to work properly - you can do that, right?”

I like being the teaser once in a while, Iida Tensei.

“Stupid,” he chuckles as he turns to face the sea, “Let’s do this.”

“Ok! So there are roughly around 3 steps we need to do to reach the waterline. Once we reach there, you’re going to let go of your crutch and press your weight against me. I’ll carry you on my back and bring you into the water. From then on out, you just need to keep at least one limb on me. Clear?”

“Why don’t you just let me use my crutches until the waterline?” he asked.

Oh.

“I didn’t think of it,” you say, smiling in embarrassment.

“Dumb,” he teased.

“Hey! I could easily drop you here, you know?” You say, chuckling.

“You wouldn’t,” he said as he kissed your cheek.

Damn you.

“Okay, okay - let’s move,” you said, focusing on the mission at hand.

One.

“Damn, this is hard - why are you so weak, Y/N L/N?” Tensei said.

“Be careful, sir - your safety depends on me.”

Two.

“Why are you so heavy?” You ask, panting.

“I haven’t exercised in a long time and I eat a lot, I basically move using a wheelchair - you need more reasons?”

“Understood, sir.”

Three.

“Ok, we’re here,” he said, smiling.

“Yeah, yeah - smile. I have to literally carry you now,” you say, irritated.

“Hey! You suggested this, not me.”

“I did, didn’t I?” you say, sighing.

“How about I sit down on the sand first? After that, you can push me from the back?”

“Sir, have you heard of gravity?” you retort, “But sitting down for a while sounds nice.”

You gripped his sides tightly as you heard him drop the other crutch to the floor.

Time for payback, sir.

You immediately dropped him, making him fall on his behind.

“I did say your safety depended on me,” you replied, smiling.

“Oh?”

Oh, shit.

Using his crutch, he hit your calves lightly but just enough to make you lose your stability and fall face-first onto the sand.

“I’m still smart, you know?” He replied, smug laced in his voice.

“I’m sorry - weren’t you the one who forgot the existence of gravity?” You retort, rubbing off the sand.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” he began laughing at your sand-filled face, “Why don’t have my phone with me? I need to take a picture of you!”

This idiot.

“You got a lot of guts to do that to me now, don’t you?” you say, forming a plan in your head.

“Well, you wouldn’t kill me, so I don’t see you doing anything that bad to me.”

I guess it’s time to prove you wrong.

You hit the back of his head with your shoe, earning a groan from him. You then began to tickle his sides, causing him to laugh uncontrollably. You heard his pleas to stop, but you didn’t care - he asked for it.

“I guess,” giggle, “I need,” giggle, “Oh, never mind.”

He pushed his back onto you, making you fall back onto the sand.

“You like sand, don’t you, Tensei?” you say, kicking his thigh.

He pressed his hands on the sand beside the two of you and slowly got up. Then, he turned himself to face your body laid on the dry sand.

“Knockout!” he shouted, making you laugh.

“You’re really dumb.”

“Tenya is the smart one, not me,” he said, moving closer to you.

He laid back against you, pressing his head against your chest. You grabbed his hands, once again playing with his fingers. His right hand found its place against your left cheek, the pad of his thumb rubbing your cheek in circular motions.

“You are still extremely heavy,” you say, cutting the silence between the two of you.

“You do this to me all the time!”

“On the bed! Not at the beach,” you retort.

He chuckled, enjoying your irritated expression.

“I love this,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

“I do too,” you say, ruffling his hair, “Next time, you be on the sand though.”

Laughter erupted from the male leaning against you.

You looked at his joy-filled expression. You can’t help but wish that this man before you remains as happy as he looked right now - preferably against the blue hues the sky had to offer. You want him to stay in your arms as you relish the moments you are in his. You want him to enjoy the riches of life he has provided to multiple residents of Musutafu. You want him to live his life by your side as you shield him from the harsh words of others.

“Thanks for this, Y/N,” he said, moving upwards to kiss your cheek.

“Happy birthday, Tensei. I love you.”

“Thanks, Y/N. I love you, too.”

You both, covered in sand with slightly wet clothes, shared a kiss under the pale moonlight of the night as a blue hue dusted your skin - maybe with a dash of scarlet on his, too.

“Now that that’s done…” Tensei whispered.

You were pushed by Tensei into the sea. The body of water’s salty liquid entered your body through your nose and your mouth, filling your senses with nothing but disgust.

Yep - still the same, annoying guy.

[lockefanfic]

Business Trip: Pt 44 - Meeting

Park Choa was great at hiding her orgasms.

Perhaps it was experience borne from all those afternoons when you bent her your desk while you pounded her from behind, your office door open the whole while. Or when you pressed her against the wall of a bathroom stall and pinned her against it with your cock, even as your colleagues stepped in and out of the bathroom unaware of what was going on in one of the stalls just a few feet away. Or when she sat on the conference room table, legs spread atop it while you devoured her slick, dripping pussy even as your fellow employees held a conversation in the hallway just past the open door. 

Regardless of how she learned how to do it, her ability to appear normal and unbothered, even as an orgasm coursed through her veins, was admirable - on top of being a wicked delight to watch.

From the point of view of the laptop’s webcam, only the white knuckle fist made by her small, pale hand and the slight blush of pink on her cheeks betrayed the fact that wave after wave of pleasure was wracking her senses. 

Only from your point of view, sitting next to her, could one see that the blush on her cheeks extended to her quivering, trembling thighs - spread widely to allow Kim Dahyun enough room to press her pale, cute little face against her colleague’s dripping pussy. Choa’s other hand strokes the younger girl’s hair almost lazily, as though she hadn’t just brought her to an orgasm that she was only barely managing to hide.

“Officer Douma has informed us that Rose will be extradited to Canada, where she’ll face the charges that have been levelled against her,” you state to the other participant of the meeting, who, thankfully for you and Choa, was in an entirely different country. “Rose will be transported to Haneda International by Officers Douma and Miyawaki two days from now. Officer Miyawaki will inform me the second she’s on the plane.”

“That’s good news,” JYP answers from the laptop screen. From the serious expression on his face you knew he had no idea of what was going on beneath the table. “Were you able to get any leads from Rose before she was taken away?”

“Yes. We were able to get the location of Blackpink’s Japanese safehouse. Rose denied any involvement with Seulgi or Yeri, but she implied that Blackpink is aware of their presence in Japan, and we expect to find leads on them when we make contact with the remaining Blackpink members.”

JYP takes a moment to digest your news, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Next to you Dahyun lifts her head from between Choa’s thighs, her own chin glistening with the older girl’s juices. Her tongue darts out to lick the slick wetness from her lips, a smile appearing on her face as she savors her colleague’s sweet, tangy taste on her palette.

“Proceed carefully,” JYP states after a short silence, “the safety of you and your team is paramount. I want you to leave any dangerous on-site activities to the law enforcement officers.”

“Understood,” you reply, understanding JYP’s reluctance to place you or your team in danger given the events of the past month.

“On a much lighter note, I think we have the head of our European offices to thank for her role in Rose’s capture!” JYP states, turning to Choa with a wide, proud grin on his face.

Choa takes a moment to respond - a split second pause, and one JYP could likely chalk up to a momentary internet lag spike - but one you knew was caused by the fact that the flushed, blushing woman was still recovering from her post-orgasm haze.

“Y-yes, s-sir,” Choa answers, taking a moment to compose herself. “It was a small thing, really. It was you who hatched the plan.”

“Stil, without you informing us of Rose’s warrant in the Netherlands, the plan never could have happened. Job well done, Miss Park.”

“Thank you, s-sir,” Choa answers. You hazard a glimpse down beneath the desk to see that Dahyun had begun to clean the older woman’s thighs and crotch of her spilt juices, her pink tongue darting out in wide strokes to lick the slick wetness from the soft, flushed skin between Choa’s thighs.

“What are your next steps?” JYP answers, turning to you again. Next to you, Choa lets a soft sigh escape her lips, although she covers it up by faking a small cough shortly thereafter.

“We’re going to be setting up surveillance of the Blackpink safehouse,” you begin, “and we’ll proceed from there.”

“Okay. Remember - safety first. We’ve had enough close brushes with danger,” JYP replies. You nod, understanding his implication that one of your team members was currently still in Korea recovering from a gunshot wound.

“She tells me she’s doing much better,” you say. Jeongyeon had bombarded you with texts and calls regularly, wanting to know everything about what was going on with the team.

“She is. Seolhyun checks on her every day. She can walk on her own now, much to the chagrin of the nurses at the hospital. She disappears from her hospital room quite often, I’m told. Apparently she’s unsatisfied with the hospital’s wi-fi and is on the hunt for a better signal.”

The thought of Jeongyeon wandering the halls of the hospital holding up her laptop looking for a signal brought a smile to your face.

“She’s chomping at the bit to return to you and the team,” JYP continues. “Her doctors and I have tried to convince her that she should take a month or two away to recover, but she seems adamant in her desire to join you in Japan once she’s medically cleared.”

“We look forward to her return, but we trust you’ll be able to keep her from returning to duty before she’s ready, sir,” you state.

“I’ll do my best, but I don’t know if anything can stop that girl when she decides she wants to do something,” JYP answers, thoughtfully. “Anyway, I think that does it for the update. Keep up the good work and keep me in the loop of any new developments. I believe I’m to meet with Miss Kim next for a logistics and technology update?”

Miss Kim was currently on her knees licking the last of Choa’s juices from her thighs, but you make a show of pretending she was actually outside the room, ready and waiting to join the meeting.

“Yes, sir. I’ll call her in.”

JYP nods, giving you and Choa a last affirmative smile that you both return. Choa awkwardly pulls her short miniskirt down before she shuffles off camera; Dahyun, smartly, crawls on her knees to the other side of the table where she rises to her feet, wipes the last of Choa’s juices from her lips, and smooths out her dress before stepping into the shot, taking Choa’s seat to give off the impression she had just walked into the room.

“Hello, sir!” Dahyun greets, raising her hand and giving her boss a cute little wave, looking for all intents and purposes like she was shooting a commercial and hadn’t just spent the last twenty minutes tongue-deep in her colleague.

You move towards the office exit, smiling at the cute post-orgasm blush that still lingered on Choa’s cheeks. Your former executive assistant had grown her hair out to a shoulder length and dyed it a darker brown - far from the short blonde bob that was once her trademark. But her new haircut and less intense makeup style had given her a more mature, womanly look. Before, she was a cute little minx prancing around the office in a short miniskirt and tight white blouse - and while the short miniskirt and white blouse remained, the creature that filled it was a more experienced, more mature feline than the one that was your executive assistant.

Your hand reaches for the doorknob, but is stopped halfway there by Choa’s pale hand on your wrist. When you lock eyes with her you find a look you’d seen on many an afternoon.

She steps close, her hand travelling up your arm to squeeze a bicep. She brings her mouth to your ear, whispering low enough to ensure that neither Dahyun nor JYP could hear.

“I think we might need an afternoon meeting to… debrief, don’t you agree, sir?”

You could feel from the movement of her cheek against yours that her lips have curled into a wicked smile. You’d known that a “meeting” with Choa was an inevitability given her return, but you hadn’t had time to indulge her given how busy you were with Rose and then Sakura. You return her smile with one of your own, eager to take the eager woman up to your hotel room to make up for lost time.

Your hand reaches for the doorknob again, only to be stopped once more.

Choa looks you in the eye before raising a hand and wagging a finger tip in a “no” motion. Then she places the same fingertip at her mouth to indicate silence.

Over her shoulder you glance at Dahyun, who had begun to give her update to JYP over the videoconference call. You finally catch on to Choa’s plan, and the devilish grin on her lips is soon mirrored on your own.

Giving you a long, lustful look, Choa turns and steps towards the other end of the conference room table, leaning over it while facing Dahyun. Dahyun is momentarily distracted by her colleague, but soon returns her attention to JYP, even if you could tell by the way she had begun to squirm in her seat that she was already caught on to what was about to happen in front of her.

Satisfied that she had her younger colleague’s attention, Choa slips her blue cardigan from her shoulders and looks back at you, still lingering by the entrance to the conference room. Without breaking eye contact, she reaches down to the hem of her miniskirt and pulls it up to her waist, revealing her full, round, naked ass - and her still-glistening thighs.

You lick your lips, and giving thanks for her reappearance in your life, you step behind Choa. 

Your arms start at her sides, caressing her thin waist and the delicious flare of her hips. When your fingertips finally reach her naked ass she trembles slightly, her mouth frozen in an open “o” as your touch reignites the long-dormant lust she’d once held for you. You give both her cheeks a squeeze, delighting in the fact that they’d lost none of their firmness or perkiness in her time away.

You need to feel more of her, need to reintroduce yourself to the tight little body that you’d spent many an afternoon pounding into submission. You’d had Park Choa bent over your desk, pressed against the wall, had her ride you in your office chair more times than you could count. But you never tired of her, never tired of filling her tight wet pussy or hot needy mouth with your cum almost every afternoon. And as your fingers make their way to the buttons of the tight white blouse she wore, the reignited lust in your loins and the gathering saliva in your mouth convince you that your hunger for her had not waned in the slightest - if anything, her absence had only made you want her more.

When your fingers begin to undo Choa’s blouse, Dahyun lets a soft gasp escape her lips - one she covers up with a cough, as Choa did earlier. 

“I’m sorry, sir. My throat is a little sore,” she apologizes, before quickly changing the subject and doing her best to delve into the logistics updates JYP had asked her for - even if her trembling fingers as she sorted through the paper files on the table betrayed the arousal that was quickly growing inside her.

Not even ten feet away, you have finally finished unbuttoning Choa’s blouse, revealing the smooth, milky skin of her torso - and the absence of a bra.

Your hands start at her waist before curling around to her front, finding and cupping both of her round, full breasts in your hands. You let a hot, needy breath escape your throat and into Choa’s ear as you press yourself against her. She reaches up with her left hand and runs it through your hair - you reciprocate the affection and place soft kisses against the side of her face before she turns her head and captures your lips with hers, your tongues quickly reintroducing themselves to each other. The fingernails of the hand in your hair dig into your scalp, almost painfully, as you finally capture the woman’s stiff nipples in your hands, teasing and pinching the tight nubs between your thumb and index fingers.

Dahyun coughs again.

“Do you need to grab a glass of water, Miss Kim? Your throat sounds quite dry,” JYP asks, concerned.

“Oh, no, not at all, s-sir. I’m quite f-fine,” Dahyun answers, “I’m far from d-dry.”

You can almost feel Choa struggle to suppress a chuckle against your lips - but she soon has little time for that as you begin to slip your right hand down her torso, past a flat, tight stomach and the front of her skirt, still bunched up around her waist. When you reach her naked crotch, it doesn’t take long to find her slick, dripping folds.

The hand in your scalp digs deeper into your skull. Her free hand tightens around your wrist in a deathgrip. She only barely manages to stifle a short gasp of pleasure that escapes her throat.

You’d had enough. You’d been without Park Choa’s body for too long. Your free hand releases her trembling breast from its grip before quickly undoing your own belt and zipper, finally freeing your stiff cock from its confines to slap thickly against Choa’s lower back. Choa gasps at the feeling of your meat against her skin - a wordless sound of happiness, a feeling of relief at having been returned something she’d gone too long without.

She turns her head as best she can, using the grip on your scalp to pull your head forward until her needy, gasping lips are next to your ear.

“Fuck me now please, sir.”

Choa was wet and dripping and needy, still recovering from Dahyun’s oral work just minutes before. Your cock ached to be inside her body, having been away from it for so long. And so when you enter her, slipping into her tight wet heat for the first time in many months, you both couldn’t help but let out a sharp, needy gasp of desire.

“Did you hear that, Miss Kim?” JYP asks suddenly.

“Hmm?” Dahyun answers, doing her best to brush off the lustful sound of her boss penetrating her colleague to the hilt only a few feet away. “Apologies, we’re using a conference room in the hotel and it’s p-possible that the m-microphone is picking up the noise of.. f-fellow g-guests.”

“Ah, understood,” JYP says, seemingly satisfied by Dahyun’s explanation. “Now, what was that you were saying about the surveillance equipment you needed?”

Dahyun does her best to continue the meeting, shuffling through the notebook and papers she had on her desk in an attempt to find some piece of information she needed as she tries, with mixed success, to continue the meeting with her boss. Not even a few feet away, you slowly begin to draw your cock out from Choa’s pussy, revelling in the tightness of her body and the way her lips gripped your glistening, slick cock as you withdraw until only the head of your cock is inside her. You relish the sight of her squirming, trembling, almost begging to be filled once more - until you push back inside her with a smooth, deep thrust.

Choa was every bit as tight and wet and hot as you remembered. You’d been with more than your fair share of women in the time since she’d left your team - many of whom were younger, hotter, tighter or wetter. But there was something about Choa that attracted you like no other woman in your life. Maybe it was the inherent maturity she held, the sly, demure, confident sexiness she’d always exuded. Other women, like Mina, for example, gave off an ice queen princess persona that was attractive if intimidating. Others, like Sana, wore their allure freely and openly, like a perfume.

Choa didn’t need to do either. Her sexiness was a mature, reserved sexiness, the kind worn by a woman who knew all the rules of the game, knew how to play it, and didn’t need the overbearing exuberance or mind games of her more youthful colleagues to win it. Maybe it was her confidence, the way she carried herself that aroused you the most.

Or maybe it was the fact that despite the confidence she held in her personal and professional life, she loved - craved - being dominated by you.

Her body was every bit as sexy as her younger compatriots, tight and firm in all the right places. Her pussy tightens and pulsates around you, adjusting to your girth as its owner reacquainted herself with your stiff cock, her mouth frozen in a wordless, soundless “o”, eyes shut as she tried to relish every thrust, every entry and exit in and out of her needy, wanton body.

Your hands wander - crushing her hips in your grip, squeezing a needy, bouncing breast, grasping a shoulder to give yourself better leverage to pound deeper and deeper into Choa’s body. She leans forward, bracing herself now against the table with her hands, bending over to allow you to fully take her, fully use her body for your own needs. Choa throws her head back, bites her lip, tries to do anything to keep the lustful, wordless cries of pleasure from escaping needy, trembling lips.

Her open blouse lets her naked breasts bounce wildly with each slap of your hips against her ass. Your swinging balls slap her wet flesh with each hilt-deep penetration - and for a moment, the feel of her wet flesh on your balls as her juices drip down your sack causes you to forget that you were both trying to be silent as you pound Choa’s wet, hot pussy on the conference room table, the echo of wet flesh hitting wet flesh steadily rising in volume until it filled the room.

“Do you hear that, Miss Kim?” JYP asks, “...that slapping sound?”

“Y-yes, I-I think I-do,” Dahyun responds, thankful that she could probably blame the internet connection for the stutter she had developed whenever she was aroused. A quick glance at her confirmed that only one of her hands was above the table now, the other likely busy between her legs. To her credit she tried her best to look confused, glancing around the room as though she were genuinely puzzled as to where the sound was coming from. “I t-think it must b-be some construction or-or something going on n-nearby. T-there’s a lot of… hammering going on, sir.”

“Ah,” JYP answers. “It sounds like they’re really pounding away at something.”

“Y-yes, it definitely d-does, sir!” Dahyun answers, perhaps a little more enthusiastically than she was hoping. Her cheeks flushed, she does her best to change the subject. “I h-hope they finish th-their work soon, b-because I can’t bear t-to hear it for much longer!”

“I understand, Miss Kim. It must be difficult to work in those circumstances. Perhaps you might want to look into making arrangements to have the team work in one of those co-op working spaces that are all the rage lately. It’s important that the team have a suitable working environment, without any bothersome distractions going on in the background.”

“Y-yes, sir. I-I’ll d-do it right away. I’ll d-definitely make sure th-they can pound away on t-their work for as long as they need, without interruption!”

You would have smiled, would have giggled at the sight of Dahyun trying so desperately to maintain some semblance of professionalism during her meeting - but you had little time for such concerns, not when Choa’s pussy was pulsating around you, each thrust into her needy, wet hole making her tighten in anticipation for an orgasm that was just around the corner.

Choa’s hands search desperately for something on the table to grip, something to use as an anchor for her quivering, trembling body. Unable to find anything, she whips a hand back and finds your scalp again. But you are almost angered, almost irritated by her painful grip on your skull, and you feel a dark need to take her, dominate her the way you used to on many an afternoon in your office back home. You wanted to take her, use her the way you knew she wanted and loved to be used.

You grasp her hand by her wrist and tear it from your scalp, taking her other wrist and pinning both to her lower back. She falls forward onto the table with a thud, her cheek and naked breasts pressed flat against it. With your other hand you reach forward and grasp a handful of her dark chestnut hair, pulling her head back, opening up her throat and relishing the deep, lustful moan that leaves her throat - uncaring of the fact that her boss was on the other side of video conference call just a few feet away.

“Mmmfffmfmmuhnnngh!” she gasps, too far gone, too far lost in the bliss caused by your pounding cock that she could have cared less if JYP were actually in the room with you, watching you pound her over the conference room table. All she cared about was each thrust, each penetration, each entry of your thick, hard cock into her needy, hot wet pussy.

Choa orgasms, and Dahyun, seeing what was about to happen, reacts swiftly.

“Ahahhhehem!” Dahyun shouts as she pretends to sneeze - just loud enough to cover the needy, lustful moan of pleasure that leaves Choa’s throat. “I’m so s-sorry sir, I think I may be… coming... down with s-something.”

“Oh, no,” JYP says with what sounded like genuine concern. “Please take care of yourself, Miss Kim. If you need a day or two to rest, please don’t hesitate to let your boss know-”

“Oh I t-think I’ll b-be okay, s-sir. I w-want t-to cum t-”

“Miss Kim?”

“Oh! Sorry s-sir. I meant to s-say, I want to come to work! Y-yes, that’s it. A-apologies, sir, there must be something wrong with the internet c-connection. S-shall we w-wrap up t-this meeting before t-the connection d-dies?”

Dahyun does her best to finish up the meeting - you do your best to keep from cumming too soon, even as Choa’s pussy pulsates and throbs around your pistoning cock as you fuck her through her orgasm.

Your grip tightens on her hair, your other hand pinning her wrists tightly against the small of her back. The dominance you were exerting over Choa was utterly intoxicating, the feel of her body catering to your every whim making you dizzy with pleasure. The call of your orgasm beckoned once more, and this time you were happy to answer.

Thrusting as deeply inside Park Choa’s slick, needy pussy as you could, you finally let your orgasm overtake you. Thick, hot ropes of semen shoot deep inside her body, painting her walls with warm white cum. Choa lets a soft whimper escape her lips with each burst of semen that fills her pussy, biting her lip in an only half-successful attempt to muffle the wordless moans of pleasure from escaping her mouth as she is filled to the brim with cum.

You slump forward, finally releasing Choa’s wrists and hair as your strength finally gives out. You only barely manage to hold yourself up by your forearms as you breathe heavily, filling starved lungs with oxygen as the exertion of the quick but intensely pleasurable fuck finally overwhelms you. Choa is equally a mess, her face plastered by her cheek to the table, the hot mist of her heavy breathing evident on the dark polished wood. You are vaguely aware of Dahyun wrapping up her meeting with JYP, but her voice sounds distant and foggy, as though she is far away - the only sensation that mattered was the warm, hot, pulsating wetness that surrounded your cock and the juices, yours and Choa’s, that had begun to leak from her cum-stuffed hole to drip down her trembling thighs and onto the floor of the conference room.

Eventually Choa gathers the strength to raise her upper body from the desk, still breathing heavily. Her blouse slips from her shoulder, leaving her almost topless. You couldn’t help but snake an arm around to caress and squeeze a full breast, softly, tenderly, thankful to be able to partake in the pleasures of her body again. Choa turns her head to whisper into your ear once more.

“That was a… productive meeting, sir - just like old times.”

“Definitely,” you whisper back.

“I think that’s everything, Miss Kim,” JYP states. Judging by his tone you could tell he had no idea that two of his staff had just fucked each others’ brains out just outside the view of his camera. “Job well done, as always.”

“T-thank you, s-sir. I-I t-think it’s t-time for me to c-clean up here. G-good night!”

Dahyun waves quickly to the webcam before slamming the laptop shut. Choa, still impaled to the hilt with your cock, turns to Dahyun with a sly smile.

“I never had the chance to provide you with training on your position before I left, Miss Kim. We do want to make sure you are able to execute all the duties associated with your position, don’t we, sir?”

“We do,” you agree. You squeeze Choa’s breast a little tighter, eliciting a warm growl of approval from the woman and a whimper of pleasure from Dahyun as she watches you toy with Choa’s chest. The idea of Choa dominating another woman even as she allowed herself to be dominated in turn was utterly arousing.

“Good. Your first training session begins in twenty minutes, Miss Kim - in your boss’ hotel room. Don’t be late.”

---

“Velvet 1, report in.”

“Overwatch, Velvet 1. Nothing to report, over.” Irene responds into the radio, her tone straightforward and no-nonsense.

“Same shit, different hour - as I’m sure you can tell from the video feed,” Momo chirps from somewhere off-camera. There is a sound on the radio that sounded a bit like a sigh from Jihyo, who was sitting in the driver’s seat.

The surveillance camera that Jihyo, Irene and Momo are operating from inside the van parked opposite Blackpink’s safehouse doesn’t show it, but you could tell that Momo and Jihyo were as bored as you were, even if Irene seemed alert, professional, and businesslike.

“Velvet 1, Overwatch. Understood. Out,” Nayeon says, clicking a button on the radio console and turning off the connection to the surveillance van. Two days of surveillance on the Blackpink house, in a nondescript middle-class neighborhood of Tokyo, were fruitless thus far - not a single person had been spotted entering or leaving, despite your team maintaining a 24 hour watch on it in rotating shifts. The surveillance camera feed being streamed from Irene’s camera may as well have been a still picture.

The rear of the command and control van, parked two blocks away from the surveillance van, was starting to feel a little cramped. You would’ve given anything to step out of it, even for a few minutes, to stretch your legs. Nayeon and Jihyo, however, had been adamant that you stay inside for security purposes.

You were thankful, at least, that Choa had volunteered for this shift. The session with her and Dahyun had been quite a memorable one, lasting most of the afternoon and almost making you both late for the start of the shift with Nayeon. The image of Choa on all fours as she crawled atop Dahyun’s body was still fresh on your mind - as was the feeling of both of their tight, dripping pussies as you took turns fucking both of them in that position before spilling your cum on Dahyun’s milky, creamy stomach at Choa’s behest. 

It was thus understandable, given her recent expenditure of energy, that Choa was the first to fall asleep, dozing away with her head leaning against the passenger seat of the van. You found yourself smiling to yourself as you listened to her snore softly, thankful that she was back in your life. The past couple of months without her had been taxing, to say the least, but they were made even more so by Choa’s absence. She had long been a stabilizing, reliable force in your life and without her steady support you found yourself a little less ready to deal with the constant twists and turns of your line of work.

You stretch your arms and legs as best you could given the van’s cramped cabin before a small yawn escapes your lips.

“You can take a nap, it’s fine,” Nayeon says, as if reading your mind. “We’ll wake you up if anything happens. Choa has the next watch, anyway. Just pass me one of those bananas before you doze off,” she says, motioning with her chin towards the grocery store bag of packaged food and drink that was meant to last the three of you for the entirety of your eight hour shift.

You smile back as you grab one of the fruits from the corner store grocery bag and hand it to her.

“This shit is bananas! B-A-N-A-N-A-S!” she sings softly to herself as she returns her attention back to the monitors, humming the tune to the song as she peels the banana.

“Don’t take advantage of me when I’m asleep,” you say jokingly as you try to make yourself as comfortable as possible on the van floor.

“Don’t worry, you wouldn’t even know it if I did. I’m a ninja. N-I-N-J-J-A!” she sings to the tune of the song.

“There’s only one-”

Nayeon looks quizzically at you, legitimately puzzled as to what you were about to say.

“...Nothing. Good night, Nayeon.”

“Sweet dreams,” she says with a soft smile as she takes a bite of her banana.

---

You awaken to the sound of raised voices.

“Are you sure? Jihyo, does he match any descriptions we have of Blackpink associates?”

“No,” Jihyo replies over the radio. “Negative ID.”

“We should fucking grab him,” Nayeon hisses under her breath.

“What? No, we’re here for surveillance, not kicking down doors,” says Momo over the radio. “Let’s step back and watch what he does. We should contact Officer Miyawaki - she’s escorting Rose to the airport and she should be informed before-”

“I’m not gonna sit in this van for another two days twiddling my thumbs,” Nayeon snaps. “The sooner we track down Blackpink the sooner we track down Seulgi and Yeri. Jihyo, are you with me?”

There is a moment of hesitation that is palpable even over the radio as Jihyo considers the situation.

“Yes,” Jihyo states. “Time is of the essence here. The house is clearly empty, and has been for a while. We might never get this chance again.”

“Wait, what the fuck is going on?” you say, wiping the sleep from your eyes. You crawl on the floor of the van to where Nayeon and Choa are hunched over the radio and video feeds.

“Irene spotted a male walking into the safehouse while I was on watch,” Choa explains. “He’s alone and approached the building on foot.”

Nayeon retrieves her kevlar vest from the storage racks opposite the monitor, strapping it on quickly before turning back to the radio. “Jihyo, let’s move-”

“That’s crazy,” Momo snaps over the radio. “Let’s think about this. This could be a trap. Or it could just be that Rose was lying to us all along and this house has nothing to do with Blackpink. Let’s get Officer Miyawaki here to ID this guy - maybe he’s on the Tokyo PD database or something. Then we can-”

“They know where Seulgi and Yeri are,” Nayeon interrupts, her tone sharp. “Or haven’t you been paying attention? Seulgi fucking shot me, and it’s only dumb fucking luck that Yeri didn’t kill Jeongyeon. Isn’t that our goal? To track down Seulgi and Yeri? ”

“No, our goal is to bring down Blackpink,” Momo replies, her voice raised. “It’s them that manipulated Irene into everything she did. Or is it you that hasn’t been paying attention, Officer Im?”

The use of Nayeon’s last name and title must have been the tipping point for the older woman.

“You know what, I don’t fucking take orders from you, Miss Hirai. Jihyo, meet me on the corner. We’re moving on the house.”

“Nayeon, wait,” you say quickly, grabbing the heated young officer by her upper arm as she makes to exit the van. “Let’s slow down and think about this.”

“What is there to think about? We’ve been sitting here for two days waiting for an opportunity. Here it is, right in front of us.”

You shake your head, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Are you sure this is the best course of action? Something doesn’t feel right.”

“Of course I do,” Nayeon replies. The confidence in her eyes is unmistakable - it was a look you were familiar with. “The fact that there’s no one in the house means that this isn’t Blackpink’s primary safehouse. We need to move on this guy - if he’s there on Blackpink’s orders he probably knows where they actually are. If he slips away, he might never come back.”

Your grip loosens on Nayeon’s arm, but doesn’t leave it.

“Let me go,” she says, her voice unexpectedly soft. “Please.”

You sit there in silence for a few moments - the moment seemed to drag on as you slowly, finally let go of Nayeon’s arm.

“Okay,” you finally say.

Nayeon gives you a final nod, before swinging open the rear door of the van, drawing her pistol and racking the slide to chamber a round, and then running towards the safehouse.

---

The streaming feed from Nayeon’s vest camera was surprisingly clear - with her pistol held out in front of her it seemed almost like a screenshot from a frighteningly realistic video game. Except this was far from a game, and the consequences and danger were very real.

“Police! Come out with your hands up!” Nayeon shouts into the doorway. Opposite her, on the other side of the door, is Jihyo.

“Police! Come out now!” Nayeon repeats.

When there is no answer, Nayeon turns to Jihyo, who nods in understanding. The younger officer reaches for the doorknob, finding it unlocked. Hand still on the knob, she nods towards Nayeon, who seems to give her the go-ahead.

A second later Jihyo pushes the door open, and Nayeon steps into the house.

“Police! Come out with your hands up!” Nayeon shouts, her pistol held in front of her as she scans the entrance foyer. Jihyo follows her into the home. On the small genkan area next to the door are a single pair of shoes - indicating that the male suspect was the only person in the house.

“Room right,” Nayeon states, her eyes not moving from the hallway as she identifies the presence of a large living room space to the right of the entrance. As soon as Jihyo enters the foyer she enters the living room, Nayeon following soon after, pistol sweeping up and following her line of sight.

With well-practiced precision the two officers clear the bottom floor of the house, always covering each others’ backs, relying on quick, prompt verbal communications and commands to swiftly and efficiently sweep the rooms and confirm that there were no threats on the ground floor.

“Moving to the second deck,” Nayeon says into the radio. It’s when she is halfway up the stairs that they hear a bedroom door slam shut upstairs.

“Hands up! Police! Hands up!” Nayeon and Jihyo shout, “Come out with your hands up!  Do it now!”

When the upstairs individual makes no move to open the door, Nayeon and Jihyo quickly scramble up the stairs, each taking up position on either side of the door. Just as with the front door, Jihyo tests the doorknob, finding it unlocked, before nodding towards Nayeon. The older officer takes a moment to compose herself before nodding back.

For a moment, two blocks away in the surveillance van, time seemed to slow for you. You’d witnessed that sensation only once before - during the shooting in Seoul. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, and you were suddenly aware of every little detail in the feed of Nayeon’s vest camera - the way two strands of Jihyo’s hair fell into her eyes, the wood grain design on the bedroom door, the dark purple nail polish on Nayeon’s fingernails, wrapped around the grip of her Glock. You could almost feel that something important was waiting for her behind that door, and a small part of you wanted to freeze time long enough for you to run over to the house and stop her from opening it.

Jihyo opens the door, and Nayeon bursts into the room, pistol up and ready.

In the centre of the empty bedroom is a young teenager, dressed in all black. In his hands is what looked like a tablet of some sort.

“Put your fucking hands in the air! Do it now!” Nayeon shouts.

“Put your hands in the air or you will be shot!” Jihyo exclaims. The two officers take up positions in the room, both of their handguns aimed squarely at the terrified teen’s head.

The teenager, looking utterly terrified, begins to speak quickly in Japanese. He gestures towards the tablet in his hands, but his words come out garbled and slurred as the fear of being shot overtakes his ability to speak clearly. Jihyo nods to Nayeon, who nods back - the older woman keeps her pistol trained on the young man’s  head as Jihyo approaches him, retrieves the tablet, and then proceeds to handcuff him.

“Blue 1 to Overwatch, we need a translator,” Nayeon says into the radio.

Two blocks away, you finally release the breath you were holding. 

---

“He was paid to come to this house and leave this tablet here,” Momo says as she turns away from the sobbing, handcuffed teenager to face you and your team. “He says he was hired by some random user on a forum who told him the combination to a public storage locker in a nearby subway station. In the locker were his cash payment and the tablet. That’s all he knows.”

“Turn the tablet on,” you say, eager to see get to the bottom of what the hell was going on.

Nayeon holds the tablet’s power button down, and the screen comes to life as your team gathers around it.

---

The video was clearly shot on a handheld camera, if the jittery swaying was any indication. The camera is pointed at a dirty, dusty floor. There are nondescript cardboard boxes piled around with piles of clothing thrown atop them, along with several silhouettes that you eventually realize are mannequins.

There are murmurs in the background, barely audible. The video swings up, and a young woman of Asian descent, clearly the bearer of the camera itself, appears. She is cute, but there is a glint of instability in her wild eyes.

“Why hello there, my friends!” she begins, her tone equal parts playfulness and sarcasm. She is dressed in a punk-inspired rocker fit, with wildly dyed hair, loose black pants, webbed t-shirt and a sports bra. “If you’re watching this you’ve just missed me! Too bad!”

There is a murmur off-camera, and the young woman lets a look of faux embarrassment appear on her face. 

“Oh, how rude of me! I’m Lisa, of a little group called Blackpink. We’re finally in your area! Annyeonghaseyo! Konnichiwa!”

Next to you, your team members shuffle anxiously. Nayeon clenches her fists. Momo lets an angry exhalation of breath escape her flared nostrils.

“I bet you’re wondering what this video is about, so I’m not gonna waste your time. We have a present for you! But first, let me introduce my good friend and teammate - Jisoo!”

She swings the camera around, pointing it at a similarly aged young woman who, judging by her name, was Korean. She seemed a stark contrast to her friend, with her more subdued clothing - and the blank, unreadable look on her face. Was it nervousness, anxiety, or something else?

Lisa turns the camera so she is facing it again.

“Time for our present! Ta-da!!”

The camera swings back to Jisoo - except this time it is panned more downward, to reveal two figures on their knees next to the Korean girl. Both have their hands bound behind their backs, and what appeared to be burlap bags thrown over their heads. From the muffled sounds leaving the masks, they both appeared to have their mouths gagged.

“Why don’t you unwrap their presents for them, Jisoo?”

Jisoo hesitates for a moment as an unreadable look flashes over her features. Regret? Disgust? Whatever it was, it was there only for a moment - and she removes the burlap sacks from their captives to reveal Seulgi and Yeri, their mouths bound by cloth gags. Both struggle in their bonds, but Seulgi especially had a fire in her eyes that told you she’d be happy to tear the heads off of her captors if she could.

In the room Irene lets an audible gasp escape her lips - she had been stoic and emotionless since she had joined the team, but the sight of her closest friends bound and at the mercy of her enemies was finally enough to break her stony faced facade.

“I’m going to kill her,” Irene hisses, barely audible, but with unmistakable conviction.

Lisa pans the camera back to Jisoo. “Aren’t our presents great, Jisoo? Do you think they’ll like them?”

Jisoo’s face remains unreadable - although for a moment she looks directly into the camera. She blinks rapidly, eyes shutting and opening at random intervals, as though she had dust in her eyes.

“Anyway------,” Lisa says, awkwardly, as her teammate doesn’t give her the reaction she was looking for. She turns the camera back to herself, the expression on her face leading you to believe she was uncomfortable with her teammate’s behaviour. “We have one last surprise for our friends... but I think Officer Miyawaki might be better positioned to tell you what it is. By the time you watch this, her surprise should be ready, so go give her a call and find out what it is! That does it for me.Toodles! Say bye, Jisoo!”

Lisa turns the camera to Jisoo, but the sullen girl has already looked away, her sad eyes on Seulgi and Yeri as the video cuts to black. A few moments of silence pass as your teammates digest what they had just witnessed.

“I know where they are,” Irene states.

---

The ringing dial tone of Sakura’s phone seemed to last forever as you wait for her to pick up. You were more than a little terrified at what her part of the “gift” was, and already your mind was beginning to fear the worst.

When Sakura finally answers, the first thing you hear is a wet, coughing sound.

“What the- Sakura, Sakura! Are you alright?” you say into your phone.

For a few moments there is no reply. Sakura’s coughing fit continues. In the background another woman is similarly coughing heavily. The other woman attempts to spit in a vain attempt to clear her mouth and throat of whatever was ailing her, before releasing a string of profanities in English and one other vaguely European language.

“Sakura! Sakura, are you okay? Where are you?” you repeat.

“I-I’m fine,” she says, finally. In the background, police sirens wail. The other woman begins to speak into a radio, every word sounding as though it was painful to speak.

“Th-this is Officer Douma. We- we…”

“Somi!” Sakura snaps. “Somi, are you broken?”

“I-I’m okay. Are you good?”

“I-I’m good. The- the prisoner!”

“Shit!”

There is the sound of heavy footsteps on broken glass and a few painful sounding profanities as one or both of the women attempt to stand.

“Fuck, fuck! She’s fucking gone!” Somi exclaims.

“What!?” you half-shout into your phone, “Sakura, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

Another wet cough. Sakura spits, trying to clear her throat.

“Our ride to the airport got hit by something,” she manages to say. “And Rose - she’s gone.”

---

Author’s Note: :O 

Thanks as always for your support!

Shout out to @thelastdrop​ lol.

[whitleyschn33]

Color in RWBY’s Designs

I’ve been trying to reblog this post for a good 10 minutes, and Tumblr just refuses to let me, and I don’t think I’m blocked, so @strqyr​ , have a reply

...

Okay, ignoring the out-of-left-field (hah) pivot to politics that cropped up in the comments -

I’m not an artist, but I do follow a few that discuss character design and have attempted some recolors myself, and when it comes to the various designs and colors of the RWBY girls, it’s not so much about the in-universe importance of color, it’s about the more meta principles of character design. Once again, I’m not the most qualified person to talk about this, so excuse me if I get something wrong or ramble.

In visual mediums, a character’s design, more specifically their silhouette and their colors, is what makes them stand out and memorable to an audience; in a lot of cartoons and anime, you’ll likely be able to recognize characters by their designs long before you remember their names, and even if you don’t know their names, seeing the silhouette or even color palette of that character can bring their image to your mind. For example, I haven’t seen an episode of Sailor Moon in my life, but show me Usagi’s silhouette, and I can tell you exactly who that is. I can show you this, and I would bet that 99% of you can tell me what character this is meant to represent despite it literally just being 5 rectangles.

(On a slight tangent, in action shows, colors and the smart placement there-of are doubly important, as they help with keeping track of a character as they move through a cluttered environment and interact with other characters, and keep track of how they move their bodies in that space. To use a specific example from RWBY itself, check out the Nevermore fight from Volume 1 - despite all the debris flying around the screen and the amount of wide shots, it’s easy to keep track of how the characters move around the screen. Yang’s gauntlets help direct your eyes to her punches, and the splash of red in Weiss’s collar makes sure she doesn’t turn into a white blob moving around the screen.)

RWBY specifically is a show that quite literally advertised itself and its character on the premise of color. The show is named not just after the main characters, but the main characters’ colors. The first trailers were the Red, White, Black, and Yellow trailers. Their original designs, while of course using other colors in the palettes, give an overall impression of red, white, black, and yellow, making the characters pop against the stark black, red, and white backgrounds of the trailers, as well as stand out against the background characters that were literally empty black voids of silhouettes. Their initial character designs are tied completely to them representing a specific color, and this color gimmick also makes the girls stand out as characters. Ruby’s red cloak and ruffles, Weiss’s white side ponytail and dress, Blake’s black bow and tuxedo vest, and Yang’s fiery yellow hair and gauntlets are instantly recognizable from a glance, and that’s a sign of good design that makes them distinct.

So, when you get to the later volumes and suddenly the characters are wearing less and less of their original, iconic colors on top of getting new silhouettes, it makes them start looking less and less recognizable as the characters they were originally designed to be, and more like completely different characters. Lets look at Blake and Weiss as an example. If you’d never seen RWBY, could you tell me if these were the same characters?

Alright, let’s fill in the details.

They look like two completely different pairs of characters. It’s not even the clothes themselves, but the colors and shapes of their clothes combined with the radically different hairstyles make the V7 designs look very much unlike the original designs. The girls got alternate outfits in V2, but they all fit the general silhouettes and color schemes of their typical outfits, and were still very much recognizable as the main team, just with new clothes. Such a drastic shift in what types of clothes and the colors they wear in V7, on the other hand, makes them look like different character designs. If you’re going to change what a character is wearing to something very different, keeping the colors consistent helps with keeping them recognizable as the character they are.

Now, changing the design of your character beyond the specific clothes they wear isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Characters change as they progress through a story, and in visual media, changes to character design can be used to signify how they’re changing or how they’re reacting to their environment and new situations. For example, in the S2 premire of Avatar, Zuko cuts off his distinguishing topknot to represent his fall from a Fire Nation prince to an outlaw on the run, and in season 3, the GAang don red Fire Nation clothes as a disguise, ditching their usual blue, orange, and green clothing. In the Owl House, Amity dyes her hair purple to represent her making her own choices rather than letting her family control her life (and I picked this up from gif sets, without having even seen the show). Design changes, even to hair and color, can be used to represent change - and RWBY has managed to do this fairly well in the past! For example, Weiss’s V4 design is very different from her original design - her sleeves and collar are tight rather than poofy, her colors are muted and overrun with greys and blues, her whites are mostly hidden and her red is nowhere to be seen. This works, though, because it represents Weiss’s current situation - she’s being controlled by her father, her individuality represented by her whites and reds being driven out, and her dress is mostly tight against her wrists and neck, like shackles and being chocked. It’s a good way of showing a character’s changed situation, while keeping her recognizable from her side ponytail and poofy skirt remaining the same.

The latest redesigns of Team RWBY, however, don’t do this. They change radically, in color, hair, and clothing shape, and there’s no clear reason why. Why do they change how they look so drastically? What prompted them to style their hair so differently, to cut it so short? Why have they decided to choose different colors to wear? To circle back to the initial post, what part of their character development has changed them from the color they were representing to the color they’re now representing?

For more specific question/examples - what prompted Blake to cover herself in a heavy white coat in V4, when she was heading to a tropical island to recover? Why does she wear a bright white coat for official Huntress business when she’s meant to be a ninja? Why does she cut her hair so short? Why does Weiss cover herself in blues and greys in V7 when blues and greys were used to show her unhappiness and imprisonment by Jacques, rather than returning to lots of whites? Why does she go from a sleek ponytail to a thick heavy braid? Why does Ruby replace her cape and start styling her hair differently? Why does she go from a poofy skirt with ruffles to a very sleek, low volume skirt? Why does Yang not wear any yellow anymore? Why do none of them seem to wear anything suited for the cold? None of these questions have real answers. We can speculate all day, but at the end, that would still just be speculation.

Why does Lillie in Pokemon change her hair and clothes? To prove that she’s not just something for her mother to control and dress up to her ideal of beauty; that Lillie can make her own choices and is ready to stand on her own two feet and do what needs to be done, rather than relying on Repels and the player character.

Why does Blake cut her hair and start wearing so much white? ....

Why does Persona 5′s Akechi’s palette switch from bright white, reds, and golds to dark blacks and purples? To show the tearing down of the Detective Prince façade to the true darkness underneath.

Why does Weiss start wearing so many dark blues and greys? ....

I could go on, but I think I’ve made my point. Things just change on RWBY, key aspects of their designs like their hair and colors, and for the most part, there just seems to be no reason given to change. I’m not saying things like colors can never change, clearly they can, but for character design, especially in a show so heavily focused on colors and how characters are represented by their colors, it’s not a thing that should be taken lightly; if a character has grown so dramatically that the manner in which they express themselves as a character has changed, like the original poster is implying it can, it should be clear to see why this character has changed in this manner.

Without a good reason for it to change, it feels unnatural, like the character isn’t the same character - so when RWBY’s colors seem to be changing without good reason, creating designs that don’t look right for the character they’re meant to be in the situations they’re meant to be in, it causes people to want to revert back to the original palettes. Not because they’re denying individuality of the characters, but because the characters are no longer designed like the individuals they once were, and artists want to bring that individuality and striking design back through the use of the colors these characters use to define themselves.

[pianostarinwonderland]

Hi! What are your thoughts/opinions on the second years AND the third years? If compare them too? 👀

My my, anon, you’re rather eager to know what feelings I hold. What do you intend to do with this information, I wonder?

DHHSBDSJJDNS okay but I’ll start with the third years because they’re my second favorite group.

It’s clear that the third years have an air of maturity and/or enhanced experience. Vil and Trey are two of the most mature in the group, acting as parent-like figures to their respective first years. Rook is rather eccentric but it’s clear that he’s very knowledgable on people and their behaviors. People like Leona, Cater, and Idia seem knowledgable in many things but are tired from all the crap that they have gone through. Malleus and Lilia are… ancient, yet one is pretty inexperienced with the world and the other has seen everything.

This group makes me feel a lot of things because I really like some of them such as Vil but three of my least favorites are there (Leona, Idia, and Malleus). I’ve gotten a bit softer over time with my least favorites, though, but still, they’re just hanging around there. 😂

In general, I like the third years because they have this maturity and experience that juxtaposes greatly with the inexperience of their freshmen. For example, Vil’s views on gender compared to Epel’s (past) toxic masculinity is a juxtaposition that was given great focus in the first half of chapter 5. Trey’s passiveness juxtaposes Ace’s frankness and need for setting things right (and in fact, Ace scolds him for this in chapter 1). Leona’s lack of motivation and willingness to use underhanded means of winning opposes Jack’s determination to win by his own hands in the fairest way possible. Malleus and Sebek… admittedly, I’m not sure yet since chapter 7 isn’t out yet. And in those kinds of relationships, each person can learn a lot from each other: the third years can impart the wisdom they have to their younger students, and the first years can provide them a fresher perspective on many other aspects of life. And Great Seven knows that the third years need that fresher perspective because soon, they’ll be doing internships in their last year in NRC, and they’ll go from being the oldest batch of students in school to the youngest batch of people in the workplace. It’s such a great dynamic that I wish the story can explore deeper into.

But aside from the fact that three of the third years are my least favorites, the third years aren’t my exact favorites because there’s a certain bittersweetness of knowing that they’re going to be the first ones to leave NRC. Coming of age and growing up narratives always leave me sad, so this sort of thing definitely affects my view on them 😭😭😭 and well, Twst is pretty slow on the main story updates, so we won’t see them go anytime soon (if Twst is even going to make the story a growing up kind of narrative, which seems to be the direction they’re taking). But still… it’s bittersweet for me.

Last but definitely not least, second years 👁👄👁

Okay, I like second years for three reasons, one being because of heavy bias. 😂 I won’t deny it. Obviously, we have Azul, but three others of my top 5 are there (Riddle, Silver, and Jade), and I don’t dislike anybody in that group. Frankly, second years are the most appealing looks-wise for me.

Secondly, if we’re going to group the students by their year levels, second years have the most appealing colors to me. They have the most saturated colors: teal blues, light and dark reds, nearly pale and vibrant yellows, lavenders, silvers… They’re such a colorful group of people, and they really appeal to me. And when you look at the classmates, their colors (in their school uniforms) juxtapose each others:

Silver’s colors are generally lighter silvers with blue hues and black with some greens. He has a cooler more mild color palette that matches his mild personality. Kalim, on the other hand, boasts brighter pale colors in his uniform, and he generally has a warmer color palette. Where Silver’s eyes are an aurora silver, Kalim’s are a bright red. Silver’s skin is also pale while Kalim’s is dark, again playing with the cooler vs warmer palette.

Jade and Riddle both wear the school uniform properly, but the differences lie in the color of their hair. Riddle’s is red, telling of a more fiery personality, while Jade’s is a cooler shade of blue, matching his more composed attitude.

Azul and Jamil… dear God, I can talk about this all day. Like Silver and Kalim, there’s the whole cooler palette vs warmer palette with these two. Azul has cooler shades of silvery blues and lavenders and a pale complexion while Jamil possesses darker reds and blacks with a darker complexion. Between the two, Azul stands out more due to his brighter color palette (I mean, you’d notice silver hair more than black hair) and properly done uniform, while Jamil can camouflage in the crowd thanks to the darker colors of his clothes and the fact that he wears a hoodie (which is a clothing item many students normally wear).

Thirdly, there’s this perfect balance of youthfulness and maturity that this group has. There’s a certain playfulness and mischievousness in their group, especially coming from people like Kalim, Ruggie, and Floyd, but it’s balanced out by more mature people like Jamil, Azul, and Riddle. Aside from that, it’s clear that they all have a lot to learn, but they also hold a lot of experience in life because most of them have gone through hard times (Riddle with his mother’s abuse, Azul with the bullying, Jamil with the forced servitude, Ruggie with poverty, Kalim with continuous threats on his life, Silver with the duty to protect Malleus (and all that training from Lilia), the twins with possible encounters that they faced coming from a supposedly sketchy family).

[notnctu]

sugar | s.j ❀

━ listen to: sugar by brockhampton 

❀ johnny suh x fem!reader ❀ genre - smut, angst, fluff? ❀ details - fwb!au, kinda unrequited love? who knows lol, sweet love makin ❀ word count - 2k ❀ synopsis - he’s always a call away, ready to love you when you think no one else will. and this will be the one time you ask him to spend the night because johnny suh is the only sweetener you need in your bitterness. 

❀ a/n: hello its author doie❀! its based off of the song sugar which is one of my favs ever so i hope u enjoy this smut, rlly this was just me avoiding explicit words lol ps i have never laughed harder in my life when @legendnct​​ (ily hannah) asked me if i was J O R N Y when i told her i was writing this at 4am 

The honey dripping, rush of candy goodness, and sugar high of a man --- Johnny Suh. He’s like walking on sunshine, no other cares in the world can harm him, and with a bright happiness that promises anything worth fighting for.

He stands six feet tall of sunflowers that turn up to the clear blue skies and soak up the positive energy needed for growth. Johnny Suh, the man that has sugar addicts craving for a slice of his attention; Johnny Suh is the epitome of goodness and virtue.

And the puzzling, estranged question of why you are his subject of sweetness is beyond any galaxy and he’d never tell a soul his reason behind his many dazed gazes, or if they even had much meaning to them. Johnny Suh is the one boy that wears his heart on his sleeve, but holds your’s at his fingertips.

There have been many countless encounters of long and, some unfortunately short, nights of sleeping with bodies that only add to the list of people you’ve kissed. But to have consistency in that aspect? Quite hesitant, to say the least.

While you are able to tolerate a random one night stand with no necessary remembrance of the individual’s name, to give your vulnerability and consistent attention to one person is asking for too much. A flawed characteristic of yours is falling in love too easily.

The hookups are meaningless, quick fucks to fill the evening and rid the irritable desire of lust. The muscles involved exclude the heart because there is no opportunity to fall for someone if you are only going to part ways right afterwards.

Yet, the one remarkable night with Johnny turned into several nights which led into your current relationship with the glowing sun. The one thing you had wished to steer away from --- a friend with benefits.

There was no metaphorical gun to your head, you weren’t forced to sign a contract, there were no ridiculously restrictive rules. No boundaries to hold you back.

When there is no fencing around the edge of a cliff, is that grounds for people to free fall? Regardless, your lack of self control and demising loneliness had you jumping and falling into Johnny’s comfort. The golden boy is someone hard to come by, and you’re not foolish enough to turn down this once in a lifetime chance to be intimately acquainted.

But as you continued to see him, there was an unconscious decision to stop your other random flings. It felt like you already had someone to fulfill the ache, someone to spend your nights with. If you needed him, he’d be there. So, unknowingly by choice, you made yourself exclusive to him, even though Johnny did not decide to do the same.

That shouldn’t bother you, right? But it does. The worst part is that it’s no one’s fault but your own. Johnny’s harmless actions affect you because your feelings allow them to. As much as you ignore the fact you two are nothing more than friends with benefits, the annoying drumming of your foolish heart reminds you of your denial.

While you’ve always had a bitter palette, the dash of sweetener never hurt anyone. He never hurts anyone, with his best efforts. And the intent should have been made clear, that your nightly hookups are an unhealthy coping mechanism. Too much sugar has your glucose levels derailing and seeking out the one person that lights up your endorphins.

The love for Johnny stems from his warmhearted character. His bubbly, goodwill nature that has him overextending himself for people who take him for granted. An extroverted, head-turning personality that you can’t despise and look away, instead are easily attracted to.

Johnny is kind, he’s thoughtful, yet entirely complex as a human being with a fair share of cloudy days. He is simply someone you want to get to know because he makes the atmosphere a safe space and he reads like an open hardback book.

Everyone has a small crush on him, it would be a complete tyranny of your feelings to deny it. Some infatuations are bigger than others and you’ll shamefully admit that you fit under this group of individuals.

On another lonely night, you wonder if he’d be at your will and call, if he would drop the world to come make you feel better. One moment, you are staring at his contact name and imaging the deep voice answering with his signature greeting. The next, you’re actually hearing his voice on the other end of the receiver and panic settles as it’s too late to cancel the call.

“Hey baby, what’s up?” The nickname sends a crown of hearts swirling around your temples. However, he sounds rushed, like he had been in the middle of a strenuous activity.

A nervousness has stammered words falling from your lips, and you’re too incoherent for even your own mind to understand. Johnny chuckles lovingly, and the slight rustling that distorts the background has you imagining that the phone is pressed between his cheek and shoulder. “Collect your thoughts, babe. I’m ready whenever you are.”

A heavy notable sigh erupts into Johnny’s ear, but he doesn’t pull away from the device. He’s all ears, attentive and patiently waiting for you to speak, despite having company on his bed.

“I need you. Can you come over?” If only pride wasn’t so hard to swallow, the question would have flowed much smoother. As if your heart grew hands, it chokes your throat from the inside and you’re preparing yourself for the rejection.

Truthfully, he isn’t obligated to come and there have been rare nights where he declines your offer. But your hope holds onto the slipping strands and the tension of your nerves have fists forming and eyes squeeze shut.

Johnny takes a fast peek at the girl already in his sheets, mindlessly and effortlessly scrolling through her social media. There is a hint of sadness in your voice that he can’t let go and while that’s usually not entirely uncommon, he can tell it took a lot for you to call tonight. So, he finds himself pulling up his sweats and a clean shirt over his head.

“Be there before you know it.” And the clench in your throat relaxes, along with the other parts that had your nails digging moon crescents into your palm and wrinkles forming at your tight creases.

And with a sweet goodbye, he hangs up the call and politely offers to take the girl home as he makes his way over to your place. And you’re dosing yourself in puffs of fruity scents and cleaning up the runny mascara around your under eyes.

With no words exchanged, Johnny knows every way to heal you and dawn a warmth that coats your darkest corners. All you have to do is open the door and let him in. His strength has you lifted from the ground, lips hungry to devour your softness.

A few fumble steps, he reaches your room at ease and gently lays you on your neatly made sheets. Johnny is consistent, no missed beats when it comes to loving you, and without a fail, he always takes a moment to himself to step back and admire your beauty. And your priceless shyness is also an added delight to the scene.

Each article of clothing is discarded and left at different areas of your small room, kisses lining your worst parts to you, but the best parts to him. When you can’t love parts of yourself, Johnny loves them for you and makes you whole.

“Were you in the middle of something?” It did not become aware to you of the possibility that you had interrupted something else, or someone else. And even if Johnny did choose to see you over spending time with them, you have the decent courtesy to make sure he is okay with his decision.

“Nothing important.” You’ll never be able to read him or notice any lies he tells. His smile is enough reassurance, and your question is quickly forgotten when his fingers dive into your wet flower. He uses his thumb to soothe circles around your growing bud, making your whole lower half blossom with trembling ecstasy.

His lips leave soft reminders to love your thighs, your legs, to not overlook their importance: they carry your graciousness into new ventures. Then, he pushes them wide open as he bends your left knee and your right dangles over his sturdy shoulder. The tight grip on your hip is bound to leave marks the next morning, along with the dark love bites he leaves across your canvas.

But his thoughts are focused on the meal ahead, your sugary juices coat the plush of his tongue. He remembers exactly how you like it, where melodic sounds hit the silence in gasps or groans. He suckles, he licks, he kisses your bead in a speed that has his brown locks tangled in between your fingers.

He drinks up more than your wetness, but also the pure image of your fucked out expression and the twists of your reacting body. He wants to surpass your limits, max you out until there isn’t a hint of melancholy in your tone anymore. To remember, to remind, to recall your happiness through heightened pleasure.

At the announcement of your high, he enters your spasming hole with rubber already on and groans at your walls squeezing around him, which halts him in place. However, the dragged movement of his length hits your sweet spot, your orgasm prolongs into a rapturous euphoria and you’re no longer in control of your body.

Johnny’s toned arms hold you close to him. The chemistry in your gazes has your heart pounding faster than his hips. As ruthless as each thrust is and each push moves you an inch upward on the bed, Johnny’s eyes are still kind and loving.

His fluttering kisses are delicate and nurturing. The marks resemble a healing touch that will settle you enough for the next day. For the night, he rids any angst that corrupts your mood by loving you when you think no one else will.

Together, your bodies fall into one another with a bite of elation as he finishes into the protection and your walls hug around him for the last time tonight. Even when your bodies disconnect, the feeling of fullness lingers and you wish to keep this for as long as you can. No more emptiness, not right now.

Perhaps it's the daze of your orgasm, but your hand reaches for his wrist to stop him from making his exit so soon. Selfishly, carelessly, honestly, this will be the one time you ask for him to spend the night. You can’t stand seeing him go, not at this instant. You refuse to spend one more night alone when your heart longs for him to be by your side when you fall asleep.

While the big heart of his beats speechlessly at your request, he lays down to draw you into his toned chest and pampers your forehead with honeyed pecks. Like many times before, no words need to be exchanged for him to know the remedy to your somber.

Possibly, the scene with Johnny caressing your chin and tracing your smile lines is all too perfect for your imperfect reality. And him whispering and wishing a happier narrative for you is more than what you had asked for. Nonetheless, he’s very good at it, mentally noting the fact that he’s probably done the same to other hookups or broken friends.

While you can get used to this form of aftercare, the guards you put up tell you that this is a one time thing. So, you’ll take and indulge all of Johnny’s affection and false love for the next few hours you had left of the night.

Nevertheless, even sweetness can be an overpowering flavor when consumed in tremendous amounts. And you wonder when you’d grow sick of his candied sugar or if you’d just forfeit your health to keep indulging more into your addiction. A sickly saccharine question of your own will be the pit of your downfall: do you love me?

[babbushka]

The Shape of You (3/12)

Supreme Leader Kylo Ren x Reader

You do a good job of it, staying out of the way. You’re quiet, you’re unsuspecting, you’re practically invisible; just the way you like it. Until one sunny summer day in 1962, the government base where you work acquires an unusual asset, and everything you know is about to change. In the race to save this lonely, desperate, beautiful man, loyalties are shaken on all sides – and the bonds of true love are tested.

7.4k ; CW: mentions of injury, mentions of past torture, angst

Tumblr Masterlist | Available on AO3

----------------------------

When you wake, it is dark once again.

For a moment, you blink and stare at the ceiling, the phantom image of his face swimming in the inky black of night. Holding on to that face, you tentatively reach a hand out into the air, hoping to touch him, hoping to feel something.

In the end, it is nothing but empty air, and your hand drops.

“The only station for when you’re on the go, tune in to AM W-6-Z-O!” The swingin’ dancers on the radio blare once again, an official signal that the time for dreaming is over.

With this new encounter, this new…you don’t even know what it is, you can’t help but feel your pulse quicken. Everything is the same – you will get up to brew your coffee, Armitage will pound against the wall, you will share your breakfast and take three buses to work – but simultaneously, nothing will ever be the same again. Because possibly for the first time in many years, you do not dread the thought of going to work.

Not that you dreaded it, work, not really. It was a good job, an important job, a job that was part of something bigger, much bigger than yourself. But you could not deny the excitement that simmers just below your skin at the thought of it.

The thought of seeing him again.

“You’re chipper this morning.” Armitage scowls as he opens the door for you, a bright cheerful smile on your face.

“Haven’t the foggiest idea what you mean.” You breeze right past him, placing the percolator down on his pot-holder that he keeps on the counter just for this very occasion. Immediately going to his cupboards, you begin to remove the flour and sugar, giving him a knowing glance and asking even though you know the answer, “Pancakes?”

“Please, god knows I’m going to need something sweet today.” He groans, moves to sit at the table.

Sometimes, you can’t help but think how domestic this is. How your friendship had blossomed into a bond so much stronger than you had ever expected. You wonder if Armitage thinks it too, if he ever is reminded of a lifetime ago, when he was married to a beautiful woman and had a house in the suburbs, if when you pour his coffee and flip pancakes on the stove, his heart aches for that long gone time.

If he does, he says nothing about it, so you don’t bring it up.

“What have they done now?” You ask instead, knowing that this is a topic of conversation in which Armitage will always have something to say, always have something to complain about.

“It’s just these essays. Half the class it would seem, completely missed the point of the extra credit film.” He sighs, gesturing to a stack of papers once again sitting on the kitchen table.

“Oh that’s alright, at least Boris is happy.” Sliding pancakes off of the pan and onto a plate, you douse them in a generous helping of syrup and powdered sugar for the both of you, before moving to sit opposite him at the table.

Just then, the lights flicker on and off, making you both frown. The power had never had much of an issue before, what with the movie theater just downstairs needing those extra generators. You glance out the window, it wasn’t raining, and it wasn’t windy – both telltale signs of potential power failure.

“Do you ever worry about what will happen when he has to shut down the building?” Armitage grumbles, carefully and very specifically cutting his stack of pancakes into wedge pieces.

“No, because he won’t.” You shut that train of thought down at once within him, knowing that while he likes to pretend otherwise, your Professor has a proclivity for the dramatics unlike anyone else you’ve ever met. “He has renters for a reason after all, and the summer tourists bring in enough to make ends meet.”

Armitage thinks about that for a moment or two, before accepting the answer.

“You’re right.” He concedes, sounding resigned.

“I’m always right.” You wink, and the two of you finish your breakfast in companionable silence.

                                                  ------------------

When you leave Armitage’s apartment and go back to your own, you cannot deny the rush that is the thought of seeing him again. It seems so silly, and of course it is silly, but something in you wants to look nice for him.

You fix your hair and pick out your cleanest most nicely ironed uniform, concerned for the first time about how it fits you, how it forms to your body. It is a modest uniform – you are a cleaning woman after all – but you find that despite the drab color palette and utilitarian shape, you look good. The clock chimes, and you realize that there isn’t much time to fuss, so instead of standing in front of the mirror, you pick a pair of heels off your grand shoe display, and hope that he finds the bright blue color appealing.

Dawdling had never been a trait of yours before, and now you understand why.

The bus is sitting and waiting at the stop when you exit your apartment building, and you run in those bright blue heels as fast as your legs can take you to make it just in time. The click-clack of your steps on the pavement alert everyone nearby, as you bolt towards the bus. Water on the ground from the night’s dew reflects the colors of the neon signs all around you, and when your foot splashes in one of the light puddles, a rainbow scatters around your ankles.

You make a beeline straight for the doors, which are open and welcoming you like a warm embrace, and only once the momentum of your body has thrown you into your seat, do you let out a long exhale.

“Thank you, I’m so sorry!” You could bury your face into your hands with how embarrassed you are, but your hands are shaking from the adrenaline of nearly missing the bus.

Missing this bus would have been bad, very very bad. It would have meant that you’d be late to work, and you have never once, not in the entire ten years on the job, have you been late for work. Such an irregularity would have raised suspicion, would have called attention to you – more attention than there already was. They wouldn’t like that, it would compromise your larger job, your more important mission -- you could not afford to be late. So, you sigh with relief and will your heart to stop pounding in your chest; all was well, you are on the bus, it did not pull away from the stop without you on it, you will be there on time.

“Good morning Miss (Y/N), no need to apologize, you know I’ll always wait for you.” Mr. Henry’s kind eyes glance at you with amusement through the rearview mirror, and you once again thank your lucky stars to have a friend like him.

Much like Armitage, you had never expected to befriend the bus driver. You had of course planned on being friendly and polite, but the extent to which you enjoyed the elderly man’s company had surprised you. And what’s more, you were constantly surprised by his willingness to be friendly with you in return. It reminded you that perhaps, there was a solidarity at the bottom – when there is no one to look out for the people like you and him, you look out for one another.

Could Mr. Henry have gotten in trouble by waiting for you? Would he be late to his other stops now? These were questions that you couldn’t help but think, but you have to wonder if they were questions he considered. Surely it would have been easier to simply leave you behind, but he hadn’t done such a thing, and you cannot express how grateful you are for that.

You resolve to thank him somehow, some way more meaningful than simply the words. It strikes you then, that despite speaking to one another every day, you still know very little about the man. You know he has a beautiful wife and a blossoming garden, you know he picks up a cup of coffee from the donut shop before starting his route, and you know which music stations he prefers to listen to. But beyond that, you have both remained relatively private.

He was not so different from you in that regard, you suppose.

Most people are not so different from one another, you suppose.

“For absolutely no reason at all, what is your favorite type of baked good, Mr. Henry?” You ask after a few moments, when the bus has left the stop and has continued its route, the Las Vegas strip a myriad of lights and colors, blinking and twirling in the night.

“Oh you don’t have to go doing all that – ”

“But I want to.” You insist, “Please let me?”

He looks up at you once again through the rearview window, and you see the sparkle of a smile in his eye. You wonder when the last time someone did something kind for him was, someone doing it just out of the want to see him happy.

“I may or may not be fond of those caramel brownies you make.” Sheepishly, almost as if he will be scolded for revealing such information, he confesses this to you.

You recall a time when you had to bring something to the company party, a holiday get together many years ago. You had been charged with bringing a dessert, and as a thank you to Mr. Henry’s continual kindness and hard work, you offered him one.

It makes you strangely emotional, to know that he had enjoyed it enough to remember it, after all these years.

“How very interesting to know.” You smile, and he smiles back, before he turns his attention to the next bus stop, and your window for conversation comes to a close.

 She is waiting for you at the bus exchange today, standing and huddled in the large group of other passengers. It is chilly out in the desert tonight, and she has a beautiful black and white checkerboard coat wrapped around her body. In moments like these, watching the steam and fog of the bus exchange plume around her feet, Gwendoline reminds you of a movie star.

Perhaps in another life, her face would light up the screen, her silvery blonde hair and striking cheekbones commanding every man in the theater to fall head over heels in love with her. Sometimes she talks about it, about moving away from this city, about quitting her job.

Perhaps in another life, you might go with her.

Armitage would surely come too, wouldn’t he? He could get a job as a professor anywhere, he could pack up his apartment and join you and Gwen on a trip to Los Angeles, or New York City, or perhaps somewhere abroad – but you can’t, can you. You can’t leave.

And so, as selfish as it is, you hope that Gwen never leaves either, because you’re not so sure what you would do, were she to go.

This is especially true, as she catches sight of you politely making your way to where she is standing, and she smiles and throws a hand up to wave to you, as if you didn’t already see her. Gwen was, in so many ways, a beacon of color in the world of black and grey.

“(Y/N)!” She hollers happily to you, competing with the noise of the bus exchange.

The hiss and hydraulics of brakes and doors opening and closing, the sound of engines revving and radios humming, of the news playing on black and white screens behind a window of glass, of people talking and smoking and eating and laughing even though it’s too early for it all, still through this noise Gwen’s voice cuts through.

“Morning,” You smile back at her, offering a thermos as is your tradition every morning. “Coffee?”

“You’re a saint,” Gwen responds, accepting it as is her tradition. “Oh I love when you wear the blue shoes!”

She takes a step back for you to point your toe and extend your leg ever so slightly, the dazzling satin shining like sapphires in the artificial light of the fluorescent overheads. One of the men waiting in the crowd with you lets out a whistle when your skirt rides up just enough to show a little thigh, and you have to physically restrain Gwendoline from snapping her teeth at him.

“I really like this pair, I don’t know why I don’t wear them more often.” Chuckling just a little at your friend’s fierce protective nature, you draw her attention back to the shoes. It wouldn’t do to get into a fight just minutes before being in an enclosed crowded space together.

“Maybe because they’re the least practical thing for a janitor?” Gwendoline mutters, still shooting the man dirty looks. He has, thankfully, backed off – probably for his own safety. Rarely do men ever expect women to snap back, and oh how Gwendoline’s bite is worse than her bark.

“Maybe, but they are so beautiful.” You shrug, and this at the very least, Gwen can understand.

“Come, I think that’s our bus now.” She whispers to you so as to not draw the attention of the crowd around you, knowing how the rush of everyone wanting to get onto the bus and secure a seat can often lead to a mob.

Sure enough, as she pushes her way to the front and you follow her diligently, when the bus rounds the corner and the pushing and shoving begins, you two are already on your way to the back of the bus, coats and purses in your laps, a deck of cards ready to be shuffled.

 In the back of the bus, you and Gwen hide your faces behind a hand of cards each, a game of Go Fish that you are sorely losing. You almost wish that the bus would hit a bump in the road, so that the cards could go scattering all over the floor and you wouldn’t be shamed with the loss, but then the thought of having to clean it all up makes you reconsider.

Gwen, for her part, doesn’t ease up on you one bit, a great big grin on her face as she claims yet another of your cards for her own little pile.

“I dreamt of him again.” You bring up, as nonchalantly as you can.

The bus has greatly reduced down its number of passengers, thankfully. No longer packed like sardines, you and Gwen have enough room to spread out, your belongings no longer piled up on your lap. Instead, they rest on the seat just across the little aisle, as you normally do. Still, it’s not entirely empty, there are quite a few stops to go before the bus pulls over into the dark of the desert and identification is requested.

All this means, is that while you can speak, it has to still be in hushed tones, lest someone from outside the building’s personnel overhear. Gwen hears you perfectly well despite your near whisper, and her face practically alights in the same way those flood lights search the sky.

“Please tell me there’s a face this time!” She abandons the cards to grasp at your hands.

For someone who prides herself on practicality, Gwendoline was incredibly invested in these dreams that you have. Every time you bring it up, she is genuinely and completely interested in hearing more, and you’re more than happy to indulge her.

“There is, and you won’t believe it, but it was, well, it was the Asset.” The last word is whispered so quietly that you might as well just be mouthing the words.

Upon hearing this, her eyes widen, mouth falling open ever so slightly.

“You’ve seen him?” Her shocked whisper makes you cast a glance around.

Good, you think, no one is paying any attention to you, everyone who is left has seated themselves at the front of the bus, knowing that they will be getting off soon and not wanting to have to shuffle through the narrow aisle.

“I – ”

“(Y/N) you didn’t sneak into the lab after all that, did you?” Gwendoline suddenly turns frustrated, exasperated with you. She hisses through clenched teeth, “After that creep Tarkin warned us specifically not to do that very thing?”

“I couldn’t help it Gwen, you can’t tell me that you’re not so curious to know what’s going on in there!” You explain, and she only scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“Of course I’m curious! But I also have some sense of self-preservation.” She looks down at where her hands are clutching yours, turns your palms over in hers. You look down, see how calloused and rough the both of your hands are from a decade of harsh chemicals and hard work. “What if that man is dangerous? What if he hurts you?”

“He can’t, he’s behind bulletproof glass, I don’t think he can even hurt himself with how secure they’ve got him.” You try reassuring her, and it seems that at least for the moment, she is convinced.

Chewing on her lip for a moment or two, eventually she relents to your assurances, and a great big smile spreads over her face once more. You have half a mind to ask her what lipstick she’s wearing, and there you go again, daydreaming about looking nice for this man…

“What does he look like?” Gwen snaps you out of your reverie, and you duck your head, bashful.

You’ve been thinking about him and the way he looks ever since you laid your eyes on him, on his incredibly impressive frame.

“He’s huge. Built like a refrigerator, tall and wide. His face was hard to see, he wears a mask that covers nearly half of it, but his hair is long and dark, and his eyes…” You can see it so clearly, there in your mind’s eye; can see his flexing biceps, the abs, the thick trail of hair that disappears behind those swim trunks they have him in.

With a knowing smile and a shake of her head, Gwendoline sighs.

“You’re going to see him again, aren’t you.” It’s not so much a question, as it is a resignation. She knew you well enough to know that once you’ve decided something, once you’ve put your mind to something, there was very little that could stop you.

If only she knew how deep that sentiment ran.

“I have to, I promised him that I would.” You say, that giddy excitement returning to you once more.

You know that the lab is going to be on your list, you and Gwen are the only ones with high enough clearance for it, you know that at some point in the day, you’ll be face to face with him once again. And that thought thrills you, it has your leg bouncing, your pulse quickening.

Gwen can feel it in your palms, and she lets go of your hands so that you can fiddle with something to keep those busy fingers satisfied.  

“Just…just be safe, okay?” She whispers, “You know I’ll cover for you, but I need you to promise me that you’ll be safe.”

Much like Armitage, and even like Boris, or Mr. Henry, you find yourself once again wondering how you got so lucky to have friends so willing to look out for you. You would do the same for any of them in a heartbeat, of course, but something about the knowledge that Gwen would lie to Mrs. Parker, or even Robert – something that could risk her job – made your heart clench.

“I promise.” You whisper.

She looks at you hard, trying to see what thoughts are going on inside your head, before letting the conversation go entirely, picking up her cards once again, determined to beat you at a few more hands before pulling up to the shuttle stop.

                                                   ------------------

The morning passes uneventfully, as the mornings typically do. Today though, there’s an undeniable pep in your step, a glow about you that the other janitors notice. It’s not that they hadn’t noticed you before, they had of course – but with Gwendoline around, usually she absorbed all the attention. It was flustering to be on the receiving end of it, listening as the boys in the halls got a little too chummy with you, thinking your smiles were for them. Things like:

“Lookin’ good (Y/N)!”

“Where are you off to with a smile that big?”

“Fancy a smoke with me and the boys?”

Are whistled and shot your way, much to your amusement -- funny what a little confidence and a pair of heels could do!

You politely reject everyone’s advances, diligent about getting your work done and doing it well. The sooner you finish everything on your clipboard, the sooner you can get to the lab. It’s on your list, as you knew it would be, but it’s so far down and comes after so many other tasks, that you feel as though Mrs. Parker knew you were eager to return to the tank and the man inside of it.

Thoughts of the man consume you, as you go about your list. Nothing was too strenuous today which you were grateful for, it wouldn’t do to be too exhausted to spend time with him. So, as you empty all the little trashcans and ashtrays, as you clean windows and glass panes in offices, as you take the great dust broom to the floors, you let yourself wonder about him.

What were they doing to him today? Were they going to hurt him again? Would he kill someone again?

The last time you saw him, he was wounded, and that bacta shit had healed him. Would they be wounding him further, or did they have what they needed? You wondered if the scientists in the lab would be so careless as to leave their notes out again. The boys back home would be more than interested in reading further developments, you were sure.

Reminded of the boys, you feel more determined than ever to figure out what’s going on with this man, why he’s there in the first place. Surely he must be Russian, why else would the government be so keen on keeping him as contained as he is? Although, you don’t recall ever seeing a plane like the one that was being dissected in that warehouse, so maybe he wasn’t.

Maybe he wasn’t human at all…the thought pops into your head, and you blink it away.

The stories of alien life in Area 51 were just that – stories. No matter how often you liked to joke about them with Gwen, that’s all that it was, just jokes. Still, that ion engine, the strange shape of the wings, the strange gel that seems to have otherworldly healing properties…it raised so many questions that you simply didn’t have any answers to.

As you sweep the floors, back and forth and back and forth with your big dust broom, you wonder if perhaps you’ll be able to speak to the man. Perhaps he could give you some answers, perhaps you could help him.

You have no idea how you could, but maybe if the two of you worked together, you could figure out a way. One thing was for certain, you felt something for this mystery man. A sense of protection, a bond of some sort. It didn’t have a name, didn’t have much to define it at all – but it was there. Much like the dream, that reoccurring dream, it was indefinite and blurred around the edges, but it was there all the same.

For a brief moment, you wonder what the man dreams about.

You wonder if he dreams at all, in the tank.  

                                                   ------------------

Time passes strangely, in the building. You’re certain that you’ve just gotten there, had just hopped off the shuttle with Gwen – but in the blink of an eye, it’s lunch time. Gwendoline very shyly lets you know that she’s going to be having lunch with Mary, and true to your word the other day, you’re nothing but encouraging.

Besides, it means that you could spend your lunch in the lab, it was the next place on your list anyway, no one could be angry with you for being there, no one could accuse you of being out of place. In the locker room though, you find yourself frozen, standing in front of the little metal locker that you call yours. There’s a compact in your purse, and you pull it out, look at yourself, really look at yourself.

You feel so foolish for all this, especially when you open Gwen’s locker and find one of her tubes of lipstick. She always keeps a couple in her locker for emergencies, something you found silly, but now are eternally grateful for. Picking out a shade that best compliments your skin tone, you apply it carefully. The damn thing is likely going to smudge anyway while you eat your lunch, but at the very least you’ll look put together when you first arrive at the lab.

He better be appreciative of all this, you think to yourself with a nervous chuckle, he better care about all the effort you’re going through. Gwen would tell you that men never care, but she’s not here right now, off playing footsie in the courtyard with Mary.

 As you walk the halls down in the bowels of the building, you realize how utterly alone you are in here. Everyone is on lunch, all the scientists, the janitors, the management. Not a single soul is in these halls, the greenish bluish light no competition for the sunshine that waits them near the picnic tables outside. You don’t mind, not one bit, and in fact it thrills you, the thought that you might be with him all alone.

Swiping your keycard through the little number pad, the doors beep and slowly open. Three layers of bulletproof steel slide open, one set horizontally, one set vertically, and one set diagonally. This lab would likely be perfectly impenetrable, in case of an attack, but you recognize that as well designed as it is to keep things out, it is also designed to keep things in.

Things like the man, who finally, after what seems like a lifetime, you will get to see again.

The lab is, much like the rest of this wing of the building, empty.

Once again you are faced with the mechanical nature of it all, the dark grey metal walls and floor, the tables with all sorts of piles stacked high atop them. The lighting is dark, kept dim, even dimmer than the halls outside. You hold your breath as the doors shut behind you, as they lock time and time again, sealing the lab away from the rest of the world.

You park your janitorial cart against the wall, your brown paper bag lunch clutched in your hands, just for something to hold, something to keep your hands occupied so that they don’t shake.

"Hello?" You call out gently, hopefully.

The tank is on the far end of the lab, and you take care to approach it cautiously. There are a million bubbles filling the tank, the bacta gel having been disturbed, and recently. Those bubbles trap the air and make the gel look nearly white with all the foam. You have to get closer, have to approach the glass, straining to see inside it.

“It’s just me, I’ve come back to visit you.” You try again, this time speaking a little louder. Maybe he just couldn’t hear you, through the glass and the gel.

Bracing yourself for him to scare the shit out of you with a startling appearance, you nearly press your nose to the tank. But seconds go by, and there is no activity. A deep deep sense of disappointment and fear spike through your body – if he was not here, where was he? What had they done to him? Where had they taken him? Was he alright -- ?

The immediate string of questions is interrupted by a splashing sound coming from your left, and you whirl around, clutching the brown paper bag to your chest.

He is out of the tank, but he is still here, still in the room with you. For whatever reason, he has been moved from the tank to the pool, and you know this because as you watch with wide eyes, he rises up out of the water, standing up to his full height on his two legs, strong legs, powerful thighs that flex and carry his body towards you.

Remaining perfectly still, you do your best not to gasp. You had thought perhaps, the glass from the tank had distorted his proportions, maybe he wasn’t nearly as big as you had thought. But you’re wrong, he’s even bigger somehow, in the flesh, in front of you. He must be over six feet tall, and twice as wide as the normal man, or at least, twice as wide as any man you had ever seen.

But the most unexpected thing of all, is that he is not wearing the mask.

You have a clear, unobstructed view of his face for the first time, and it takes your breath away. He is utterly, completely, totally handsome. Your imagination could have never come up with the configuration of his features, never in a million years. His nose, so strong and proud looks slightly broken from the front, but when he shakes the water away from his hair and you catch sight of his profile, it is beautifully sloped and triangular. His lips have to be the most full and plush that you’ve ever seen, his ears are large as they poke out from the dark drenched blackness of his hair.

You’re staring, you know you are, but he doesn’t seem deterred. In fact, he’s staring right back at you, looking at you with soulful brown eyes that seem to be sharper than anything you’ve ever seen, eyes that seem to be taking you in with the same level of intensity that you do him.  

“Oh!” You realize that he can hear you now, you realize that this is the chance you’ve been hoping for, so you reach out your hand for him to shake, and offer him a friendly, “Hello.”

The man’s eyes track the movement in a way that can only be described as predatory, as an apex creature focusing all their energy on their prey. Strangely though, you don’t feel like prey. Keeping your hand extended, you take slow even breaths, showing him that you mean no harm, showing him that you won’t hurt him.

You’re not like those men, those scientists, you won’t hurt him.

“My name is (Y/N). It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You introduce yourself, speaking as carefully and clearly as you can. “What’s your name? Can you understand me?”

The man simply looks at you, as if in a trance of some kind. You look around, check over your shoulder to make sure, absolutely sure, that no one is around.

Once you’re determined that the coast is clear, and this man continues to take in the sight of you, you move one step forward, closer to the edge of the pool.

“Can you understand me now?” These words come in another language, a switch of your tongue that would have you arrested on site if anyone had heard.

He frowns, confused, and you wonder if this is the first time anyone has tried being polite to him since his capture. You’re about to retract your hand, when suddenly, he lifts his own, his arm tensing as he reaches for you – only to be stopped by long chains that are attached to cuffs on each of his wrists, and to the metal collar he wears around his throat.

The man looks at his bindings, and strains against them with a strangled shout of frustration. His muscles bulge, but it’s to no avail, whatever he has been shackled in, is too strong for him to break through. You have to sit, your legs unable to support you for the moment as you take him all in. Settling on a step near the edge of the pool, you lean in enough for this man to do the same. He too sits, just on the other side of the edge, as close to you as the chains will allow.

Reaching your hand further, further, further still, the man freezes as you place a palm to his cheek. The skin of his scar is smooth, and you find that surprising, as you stroke his face. Eyes closing, the man lets out a shaky shuddering exhale, nuzzling into your palm. He reminds you of a bear trapped in spiked teeth out in the forest, or a lion in the cage of a circus.

“Why do they have you chained and collared like this, why are you here?” The Russian flows freely now, you no longer hold it back the way that you might have in front of anyone else.

Then, suddenly, the strangest noises come out of his mouth. You think that he might be in pain for a minute, but then you realize no, he is speaking to you, impassioned and desperate, his voice is deep, rumbling, coming from the depths of his chest, a baritone that vibrates down inside your bones.

This is the voice that you heard in your dream, you realize. The voice parroting your words back to you, now you know why it had sounded so strange, so off. This man didn’t speak English, and he had only been mimicking the sounds, not knowing what it meant. You’re not sure what this man speaks, and it pains you, it pains you to not share this with him.

“I – I’m sorry I don’t understand.” You have to cut him off, putting your hand over his mouth to interrupt him, to get him to stop. You’re not sure if he even knows what you’re saying, if he can understand but not translate it out of his own mouth, you don’t know. “I’m familiar with ten different languages but yours isn’t one of them, I’m sorry.”

The man looks so sad, devastated, and that at least feels like maybe he can understand you. All at once, you recognize that if he can understand you, there may be hope. Perhaps if you both learn to communicate in a way that doesn’t rely on words, perhaps if you can find a way, you can help him.

That will require some planning, great planning, careful planning.

The man is watching you, he rests his head on the ledge of the pool, his black hair slinking and sliding down the strong muscles of his back. It is as if he is telling you to not be afraid of him, the very same way you were trying to tell him not to be afraid of you.

It strikes you, for a moment, how human he is. Even if by some cosmic improbability he is an alien, he is human. His stomach growls then, loudly, so loudly that it makes you laugh, and you shut yourself up immediately, afraid of scaring him with the noise. He doesn’t go anywhere though, his eyes only widen, making you smile.

The man mimics the motion, smiling back at you, a small laugh of his own.

He has dimples, you think, as you only grow more and more attached to him, and his teeth are so crooked.

“Here, I don’t know what kind of shit they feed you, but you must be hungry.” You rifle through the little brown paper bag that you’ve been holding in a death grip this entire time, pulling out the first thing you see. The clementine fills your palm, you offer it to him cautiously, encouraging, “Go ahead, you can have it, I promise it’s okay.”

The man, wherever he has come from, must not have seen one of these before, because he takes it in his hand and immediately goes to bite through the rind. Your hand flies out and grabs his before he can do so, and despite it all, you laugh again.

He scowls, thinking you’re making fun of him, so you simply shake your head and demonstrate how to peel the hard outer flesh of the fruit away.

“Don’t make fun of me for the way I peel it, I can never get it to come off in one go.” You mutter, wondering wondering wondering if he can understand you.

Watching diligently and carefully, he sits patiently at the edge of the pool, his palm extended, resting near your hands. Piece by piece you peel the clementine, always trying to get it in one spiral but failing, as usual. Eventually, once the floor has been littered with peel and the clementine is bare, you pry the citrus into segments, and place one in his hand.

It looks so small, comically small in the man’s palm, even smaller as he raises the piece to his mouth and pops it in between his teeth, the juice squirting into your face, making you laugh once again. The man’s face lights up immediately, already asking with those strangled sounding words that you cannot understand, a language foreign to even your ears.

“It’s good right?” You hope that that’s what he’s saying, you hope that he likes it. Giving him the whole thing, you watch as he delicately pulls the segments apart. “Bright and sweet. It’s just about the only thing bright in this whole place, hm?”

Instead of eating the entire thing as you would have expected him to do, the man thoughtfully gives you half of the segments. You notice that they are the larger pieces, the ones that must be more flavorful, juicier. He is kind, you decide, kind enough to offer you the better of the halves at the very least.

“Why are you here?” You whisper, knowing he cannot answer. “Why do they torture you so?”

There are no fresh wounds this time, you are glad to see. Nothing healing or inflicted, just the smoothed over scars. You long to touch them, the pink lines that mar his flesh, but he is a person of agency, and you will not disrespect him the way that these scientists do.

So instead, you offer your hand out to him once more, and after careful consideration, the man presses his cheek against your palm. Your thumb rubs soothing circles against the little beauty marks and freckles that pepper his skin, and you sigh.

“I’m going to figure out a way for us to communicate. I don’t know how, but I will.” You tell him, tell yourself, “You won’t be alone, I’ll help you, I just need to figure out how.”

Out in the hall beyond the sealed off lab, a bell chimes, signaling that lunch is over. Regret and disappointment rise up in your throat like acid, you don’t want to leave him, you don’t want to go away from him. He has been in your dreams, all this time, it has been him, of this you’re now sure. But you have a job, you have a responsibility, and you cannot lose it now.

Pulling away, he makes a noise of protest, and this is a noise you can understand.

“I have to clean. You can watch me, if you’d like, but I can’t just sit here all day, or else they’ll be very angry with me.” You explain to him, willing him to understand, “And if they’re angry, then I can’t visit again.”

The man sighs, chews on the segmented clementine.

With that, you move to the other side of the lab where you’ve parked your cart. The only thing on the list is to mop the floors, and you find that you hate that, you wish there were more, wish that you could have more time. You never thought you’d think this, but you hate how efficient you’ve become, how they’ve entrusted you with the jobs they know you are quick at. It is a double edged sword, because if you weren’t good at it, then maybe they wouldn’t have assigned this lab to you in the first place.

Dunking your mop in the solution that you make yourself – vinegar and baking soda, and a little dish soap – you begin to work, the thing you’re actually there for. It is very obvious that he’s watching you, from his spot in the pool. He walks back and forth, almost stalking you, his hulking frame tethered to you by an invisible string. When you go to the right, so does he. When you double back to the left, he goes as well. You smile, hoping that he finds the incredible mundanity of it all not so mundane.

“You’re very handsome. I’m only saying this because I know you’ve got no idea what it is that I’m saying, otherwise I’d be dying of embarrassment. But you’re handsome.” You admit when your back is turned to him, swishing the mop this way and that, picking up the little stains and debris that have stuck to the floor in the time since it was last mopped. “I was wondering what your face looked like, without the mask.”

You continue to mop, and he continues to watch you.

In a strange sense, it is almost like a dance. The sound of the water splashing as he moves back and forth, as he creates little waves and currents, acts as a rhythm, a steady beat to which you mop. His breathing is calm, and he seems to be in a relaxed mood. Maybe he has been hypnotized by the repetitive motions that you make, or maybe, a hopeful part of you thinks, maybe he feels completely at ease with you.

The thought sours in the back of your throat, because you know that once you have finished this, you will have to leave.

You prolong it, you try your best, you really do. But eventually there comes a point in which you cannot procrastinate any longer, you cannot draw it out. The floor is mopped, your clipboard is checked.

Carefully, walking over the freshly mopped tiles slowly and deliberately so that you don’t slip, you sit on the edge of the pool once again, something painful like sorrow making your head hurt.

“I’m done.” You whisper, “I have to go now.”

He’s alarmed by this, the man. He seizes forward, rushes to reach for you with wide panicked eyes, but the chains around his neck yank him back, and he stumbles for a moment, nearly loses his footing in the water. You could cry, with the desperation in the words that he speaks, with the way he reaches for you with bound hands.

You lean as far into the pool as you can, your arms wrapping around him, nearly toppling over into the water with how far forward you are. You don’t care, so what if you should fall? You cannot bear to see him so sad, and so you pull him into an embrace. He holds you tightly, hands curling in your hair, breathing in your smell.

“I know, I know I’m sorry – I don’t want to leave you. But I’ve got more work to do.” Your voice wobbles, hating this, hating how he’s chained, hating how he’s going to be all alone, how he’s going to be tortured and harmed in your absence. You hate it, and he doesn’t want to let you go, you can tell by how strong of a grip he has on you as he talks and talks and talks in a language you don’t know.

There is nothing you can do today though, to help him. For the first time in your life, you feel overwhelmingly insignificant, in the way that you can’t do anything to help him.

“I’ll come back tomorrow, even if it’s not on the list, okay? I’ll come back, I promise.” Your hands cup his cheeks, looking at one another, your eyes boring into his. “I’ll always come back.”

You let go of him now though, and you turn your back to him, mopping up your steps so that the footprints do not give you away.

Swiping your keycard through the number pad once more, the doors open for you, and you do your best not to cry when you hear his pained shout muffled behind the steel.

[tsuisou-no-despair]

Higurashi TEN (Role Swap AU) - 34 Random Facts

Well, I'm slightly stuck with the question arcs, so instead I'm just going to write up and throw out a whole bundle of random facts about the world, its characters, and things that have or could happen. Hopefully this will lead to something clicking into place for me, and hopefully you'll like it, too.

Kei, Reina, and Mion still use a bat, nata, and taser, respectively, as their main weapons, though Mion's been forbidden from using the taser by Oryou. Hanyuu uses the ritual hoe and swords in about equal measure. Miyoko uses whatever's on hand to frightening effect.

Shion thrives at St. Lucia; however, she is pulled out of the school by her family after Oryou decides that Mion's twin would be better utilized if she was right on hand...

Miyoko does the Joseph Joestar "your next line is..." thing, which almost always works like a charm. (It doesn't work on Satoko or Bernkastel, but the former plays along when she's not in the black outfit)

Hanyuu's horns aren't initially broken, but by the end of the series, they have their signature crack.

Tomitake is a much more common sight in Hinamizawa than he was in the original universe, being a resident of Okinomiya who frequently visits. He's also quite well-liked, mostly because he's there to fix just about anything that breaks.

Rumiko was the original user of Rena's signature nata, as well as the person who first converted the van in the dump into a hiding place.

Satoko finds the contents of the Saiguiden fascinating but ultimately disappointing; she expected something more directly tied to Hinamizawa Syndrome's origins.

Irie almost always manages to get clear of Hinamizawa before Emergency Procedure #3105 is executed; however, he's usually dead in under 24 hours due to his escape catching Tokyo's attention.

Both Ooishi and Akasaka are hated by the Sonozaki family but the former much more so, to the point where Ooishi schedules his visits to Okinomiya when the Sonozakis will be looking elsewhere, such as on festival nights.

Rina targets Kei's dad in the loops where she doesn't die. Kei's mom does not take it well - to the point where she goes L5, in some cases.

Mion's "feelings" for Satoshi are primarily a result of Satoshi being just that nice and caring and good-hearted. It helps that she's enamored with a saintly image of him that's only grown more pure since his absence.

When Miyoko bothers to start telling people about how she's lost in time loops, their reactions are mostly in the vein of "oh, that explains so much".

Bernkastel can be heard by people who are deep in the throes of Hinamizawa Syndrome; naturally, she uses this to fuck with people for kicks.

Okonogi takes the role of the clinic's head after Satoko dies/disappears. He's regarded exclusively with suspicion - if he wasn't only filling the role until the GHD triggers, he'd probably get run out of town within a month.

Rumiko regularly made Miyoko curry after learning that Teppei and Tamae were denying her food; this led to Rumiko taking her curry very seriously because it represented the only "acceptable" way for her to help Miyoko.

Officially, Tatsuyoshi Sonozaki and his wife (Naeko) are Mion and Shion's parents. In reality, Akane is their mother, and whether or not Tatsuyoshi is the father is strictly a matter between him and Akane.

All of the locations from the original universe are present and more or less unchanged, along with a few new "sets" such as Akasaka's apartment.

Satoko has an alternate version of her "Tokyo" outfit that includes a mask that resembles an inverted Eye of Providence. She wears this when acting in Hinamizawa after her death, claiming that she needs to hide her identity due to being known in the village. (Okonogi thinks that doesn't matter in the slightest and that Satoko is trying too hard to be "cool", and he isn't wrong... except that it's managed to keep Miyoko from realizing who it is throughout the loops)

Beyond mahjong, Akasaka, Satoshi, Irie and Tomitake were fast friends. Their name for the quartet is the "Soul Brothers" - thankfully, it's a more serious (and infinitely less horny-focused) group than in arcs like (ugh) Batsukowashi-hen. (Kei still becomes an honorary Soul Brother in some arcs, though)

While she's reasonably familiar with a gun and a bow, Shion's real weapon is her contacts: her stay at St. Lucia (and Rika-in-Gou levels of popularity while there) means she has a slew of St. Lucia-ites (with powerful fathers) who would bend over backward for her.

Akane and Satoko are the two most skilled individual fighters in Higurashi TEN - who wins in a fight between the two is generally decided by who screws up first, but this is usually Akane getting blindsided by a trap unless she's warned. (They fight in more fragments than you'd expect - Akane Kasai is the most dangerous person in Hinamizawa and Satoko knows it.)

Miyoko starts her loops at the same point every time - the morning after the festival in 1982. This is mostly to dodge the abuse from Tamae - the fact that people assume her changed personality is because she's escaped an abusive home is icing on the cake.

The official reason for the Clinic "studying" Hanyuu was that they were researching the effects of her horns' growth pressing on her brain and monitoring the brain tumor-like symptoms (hearing voices, delusions of being Oyashiro-sama reborn, etc.) that it caused; this was all a fabrication hiding the research done on Hanyuu as Queen Carrier. Satoshi was disgusted by this facade and eventually told the Furudes that Hanyuu's brain was fine, leading to them pulling Hanyuu out (and Satoko murdering them as a result).

Irie occasionally mediates the Games Club's punishment games, sometimes getting dragged into it himself. He's a stalwart protector defender of the young club members' honor, making whatever sacrifices he has to in order to make sure that they're not forced into perverted situations or outfits.

Rumiko may or may not have had feelings for Mion, which Mion subconsciously returned; Mion's quietly put two and two together in the months following her disappearance, and it's had a palpable effect on her relationship with Reina.

Ooishi lives in Kakiuchi City and is a part of its police department, and he's not the only former Hinamizawa resident on its force - there's a bright young detective named Natsumi Kimiyoshi who I've heard interesting stories about, though I don't know much about her...

While he's still capable of being the "Magician of Words", Kei's charisma is heavily tempered by the restrained, somewhat cold wall he's put up around his emotions for "everyone's own good".

After all that looping, Miyoko's trauma response to Teppei moving back in and forcing himself to be her caretaker is anger moreso than shutting down. More than a few loops have ended with Teppei killing her after she was too insolent (or too creepy) for him to put up with.

Yukie was a reporter who was extremely critical of the anti-dam protests, especially after the kidnapping occurred. At least some of the antipathy towards Akasaka is due to being Yukie's husband.

When the seeds of distrust aren't sown, Reina's empathy is one of her most powerful tools, making her able to stand up to just about anyone in Hinamizawa and reach out a hand to them. (Sometimes this leads to getting a baseball bat to the head, but hey, she tried.)

Hanyuu can hear Bernkastel at lower levels of Hinamizawa Syndrome than anyone else in the village, and seems to be cognizant of her presence even when she's at L1/L2. The exact details of Hanyuu and Bern's rapport are known only to them.

Miyoko and Hanyuu are closer to each other than they are to anyone else, but there's still a big ugly wall between them due to Hanyuu's quasi-divinity butting up against Miyoko's hatred of any and all gods. Tearing that wall down is an important part of Miyoko's character development.

Irie had (has?) Satoshi's blessing to try and win Satoko's heart; according to Satoshi, Satoko's not entirely against the idea of a relationship. Satoshi also made sure that Irie didn't cross any lines when going after her; after Satoshi disappeared, Irie ceased his attempts until Satoko herself encouraged him.

Everyone is wearing different outfits - the new ones are more or less the same pieces of clothing as the original "position" but with the color palette and general feel of the character filling the slot. For example, Reina's casual outfit starts as Keiichi's - a vest, undershirt, and shorts (and no hat) - but then is adjusted to fit Rena's style and is given a white, light blue, and purple palette. My attempts at mocking up Reina and Mion's designs are below.