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gabrielleragusi · 9 months ago

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For Artists: My Experience with Commission Platforms and Illustration Agencies

Hi there! I’ve been wanting to compile a list of commission platforms that I’ve personally used for the longest time, and I finally did it! I’ve highlighted the still-active commission platforms in bold and struck those that don't exist anymore so you can jump to the sections that interest you without needing to read my entire story.

Let me start by briefly introducing myself.

I’m Gabrielle, a fantasy illustrator. Since 2014, I’ve been working on book covers and illustrations for publishers, authors, and book subscription boxes. Early on, work wasn’t as frequent as it is now. I had to search for opportunities myself, and even small private commissions were important for building my portfolio and earning some money, which I’d spend on materials, books, and online courses. Like many other artists, I started out by trying my luck with the biggest art community available at the time.

DeviantArt

2009-2018

Once upon a time, there was a virtual haven called DeviantArt. To my teenage self, it was a magical place. I signed up in 2009 and thought I’d never leave!

At first, I created an account just to share my work and learn. I didn’t even think about commissions for four or five years. But when that first inquiry finally landed in my inbox, things took off! My mum swears she remembers my excitement when I got my first commission, but for some reason, I’ve completely forgotten about it. I can't remember what it was or how much it paid. It might have been a portrait of a fantasy character.

Commissions on DeviantArt were fairly frequent, especially considering my cheap prices at the time. I used to offer discounts and post my rates in my DeviantArt journal, or in Commission groups that featured artists either monthly or weekly. After checking out my profile, a client could simply send me a private message and from there, we’d discuss payment, deadlines, and other details, and the platform didn’t take any fees, much like how ArtStation works today. Everything happened through private messages or email, with direct contact between artist and client.

The downside of this process was that there was no dispute resolution system on the platform. I had to handle all issues myself, and unfortunately, problems did arise sometimes: there were clients changing their minds about commissions, asking for refunds after work was delivered, refusing to pay, or just ghosting me. These issues didn’t happen because clients were evil, but rather because I was inexperienced and allowed some to take advantage of my naivety.

However, all that frustration helped me develop my commission process through trial and error (mostly error). And despite the challenges, I can say with satisfaction that most of the commissions I received through my DeviantArt profile were positive experiences.

DeviantArt eventually introduced a commission feature for Core (Premium) users, which came with a platform fee, but I didn’t use it much, and I’m not sure if it still exists.

The real beauty of dA, though, was the connections I made. I was able to meet people, both artists and clients, that I’m still in contact with today, and some of whom I still collaborate with.

I closed my account in 2018 or 2019, but by that time, I hadn’t really used it for a couple of years. The new user interface was a bit of a turn-off for me. I had always loved the geeky, and dare I say cozy, look of the old green and grey aesthetic, with its customisable panels that you could move around and personalise with HTML code... But I digress.

Artists and Clients

2013-2016

While taking small commissions on DeviantArt, I discovered Artists & Clients. It was a nice platform for clients to get things like their D&D characters or groups illustrated for relatively cheap. I think my highest price was $50 for a single character portrait, with the platform taking a 15% cut. I used it for about two or three years before the platform started to change.

As more artists with hentai art styles flooded in, the homepage shifted, and so did the clientele. There’s nothing wrong with drawing naked anime girls, of course, but you can understand that if a client is looking for a fantasy, semi-realistic painting of their female orc character, or a realistic portrait of their spouse, it's more than likely that they won't bother sifting through a sea of anime girls to find the style they want, imagining it isn't here. Let's just say that, at the time, the website took a definite direction that wasn't in line with my genre, but this direction didn't make the different, more realistic art styles stand out either.

Soon, commissions slowed down for me, so I closed my account, but by then I was already working elsewhere.

That said, this platform could still be a useful tool if you’re looking to take on smaller commissions.

DreamUp

2014-2015

DreamUp wasn’t an AI generator back then. It was actually a subsidiary of DeviantArt, where clients could post projects and artists could apply. It was a competitive platform that offered well-paid work–very well-paid. I remember seeing jobs posted that ranged from $300 to $1,200. DreamUp was a very professional platform for clients with a mid to high budget.

I believe I landed my very first book cover commission through this website when I was in my last year of high school. I remember getting the job and going to school the next morning, excited to share the news with my classmates. Everyone was super thrilled for me (we were a really close-knit class!), and I felt like I was walking on air.

Unfortunately, as far as I know, that book was never released, but it didn’t matter because I was moving forward, and fast.

I’m not sure when DreamUp was shut down, but I do know that DeviantArt held onto the copyrighted name, assigning it to something so anti-old DreamUp that it still boggles my mind.

ArtCorgi

Now Artistree

2014-2019

When I received an invitation to join ArtCorgi from its founder, I already had a somewhat consistent portfolio. I was painting portraits and fantasy illustrations, and the clients on this platform were looking for both–your typical wedding and pet portraits, as well as book covers, which were what really interested me. To get to the latter, I had to do the former. Over the years, I’ve painted so many realistic portraits that now I have a strict rule for my own sanity not to do them any more. I have great respect for portrait artists, but it’s just not me.

When I first submitted my prices to the person I was in contact with, she kindly suggested that I raise them... a lot. That was a major step forward in my professional career. I went from charging $50 to $100/$200 overnight. And to my surprise, people actually wanted to commission me at those prices!

From 2014 to 2019, I took nearly every commission that came my way. I never spoke directly with the clients; all instructions and feedback went through my point of contact, which helped maintain a level of professionalism, although now that I’m used to working directly with clients, I’m not sure I’d want to go back to having an intermediary.

Sadly, as with all good things, this chapter came to an end. My point of contact eventually left communication in the hands of someone else, and shortly after, the commission fee changed to, I believe, 30%.

Simply put, 30% is an unrealistic cut for a website like this. For an agent that gets you all kinds of big work in the publishing industry, sure, but since this was not the case I had to stop taking commissions. Despite that, my overall experience with ArtCorgi was very positive.

Today, ArtCorgi joined another platform, Artistree. As far as I can tell, Artistree doesn’t take any fees from artists, with clients covering a small cost instead.

Sketchmob (?)

2016-2020

This was probably the platform I used the most. I’ve lost count of how many commissions I received through Sketchmob. Many. Enough to generate a steady income at the time. With reasonable fees and a variety of art styles available, clients contacted me almost daily. Communication was direct between artists and clients, and payments could be split. The review system also worked very well… for a while.

Once I raised my prices, requests became fewer and farther apart. But by then, I was already working with my own clients.

Is this platform still active? Who knows. The website is still up and the chat feature works, but I’ve seen users complain that money available for withdrawal never arrived via PayPal (the only payment method the platform accepted, if I remember correctly). Personally, I wouldn’t risk completing a job through Sketchmob right now, at least not until they release an update.

If you’ve used the platform recently and successfully received payment within the last six months, please let me know, and I’d be happy to update this section!

Upwork

2017-2019

In 2017, I was determined to break into the book publishing industry. After trying out Fiverr and Freelancer.com with no success (the competition was too fierce for someone just starting out), I decided to give Upwork a shot. The platform looked very professional, and while the process sounded a bit complicated, I wanted to land the interesting projects I saw featured in my category. I really wanted to work with a big client… but big clients didn’t seem to want me, despite having the Rising Talent badge.

In two years of bidding for jobs and submitting proposals, I only landed two projects: a small commission from a private client who actually reached out to me, and another project that I bid on.

Don’t get me wrong, I was ecstatic at the time and truly appreciated every opportunity that came my way. But looking back, I can see why Upwork didn’t work out for me. The platform just wasn’t the right fit for my style and niche, which is fantasy illustration. Graphic design, however, was (and still is) in much higher demand.

The commission process on Upwork wasn’t as simple as on other platforms. For instance, at the time, costs were calculated hourly, which was a challenge for someone like me who prefers working with flat fees (having already calculated my average hours spent on an illustration). From what I’ve seen, this has since changed.

One positive aspect of Upwork is its current 10% cut on what artists earn. I don’t recall if this has changed over the years, but 10% is quite reasonable in my experience. Of course, 0% would be even better, but for a platform as large as Upwork, 10% is fair.

Illustration Agency

2019-2021

By 2019, I had built a solid, consistent portfolio thanks to my personal work and commissions. I had a simple website in place, my Instagram following was growing… I was steadily working toward my goal of illustrating covers for big publishers (which didn't happen until two years ago).

So, when an illustration agency reached out to me one day, I was over the moon. I had always heard that artists were the ones who had to approach agencies, not the other way around.

Well, that should have been my first red flag.

I won’t name this agency because, unfortunately, I have nothing positive to say about it. In fact, the word “nothing” perfectly describes my involvement with them. Nothing came of this barely there experience.

The agency invited me to sign up, not on an exclusive basis, but they assured me they’d get me work. That work never came. Once in a while, I’d receive messages saying they were trying to pitch my portfolio to a French publisher or another client, but... nothing.

Please understand that meanwhile I was already working directly with shops and authors, so I don’t believe my portfolio was the problem. The real issue was something I didn’t realise at the time: some agencies do this. They feature talented artists in their catalogue without having actual clients lined up, just to appear more professional and credible to potential clients. Did this strategy work for them? Maybe. I’ll never know.

In 2021, I politely asked them to remove my portfolio from their website, and that was the end of it.

After that, I never actively sought out an agent again. By the time my portfolio was strong enough to approach a serious agency, I just didn’t need representation anymore.

Hireillo

2019-2022

My experience with Hire an Illustrator, or Hireillo, is mixed. At the time, Hireillo was a platform that hosted artists' portfolios, featured artist-submitted news, provided useful articles, resources, and directories of artists and agents. I joined the site hoping to catch the eye of publishers, but I was mostly contacted by authors and one fellow artist for a graphic novel.

Unfortunately, most inquiries didn’t go beyond the first couple of messages due to budget constraints. I did, however, have fun sharing news about my painting process and projects I landed on my own, which were often featured by the website. Additionally, if I had questions about 'complicated' things like copyright, or just needed advice, I could ask the website’s owner and that was incredibly helpful.

Despite these benefits, I didn’t see any real results, which was a little disappointing. The subscription fee was also... odd, for lack of a better word. $5 per week. In the end I just couldn’t justify the cost, so I stopped using the website altogether.

Reedsy

2019-2022

Finally, we come to the turning point.

I remember stumbling upon Reedsy randomly. It wasn’t very well known at the time, and I think it still isn’t. I was nervous when I submitted my portfolio because their catalogue features the best of the best: designers who’ve created covers for bestsellers, THE bestsellers, people who’ve worked on Stephen King covers, or George R.R. Martin's. Designers, editors, and marketers who are veterans. I didn’t have high hopes for my application. So, I was in shock when it got accepted.

I had an introductory Skype call with a representative from Reedsy, who explained how everything worked. Before the call ended, I remember asking if there was a good chance I’d get work through the platform. The rep laughed and said, “Yes.”

A few weeks in, I understood that laugh.

Reedsy has an overwhelming demand for book covers and commercial projects. For every designer there are many more clients. In peak seasons, I was getting requests almost every day. I’m not exaggerating.

Reedsy transformed my portfolio and my pricing structure. Thanks to the income I earned through the platform, I was finally able not to take everything that came my way but be selective and choose only the projects that really interested me.

The commission process is simple: artists pretty much decide how to split payments, what to include in agreements, and the best part, the most beautiful and helpful feature of all, they can request and adjust deadlines. For someone like me who's terrible with deadlines, this feature was a lifesaver. The admins are also very kind and responsive, available via email or chat.

Unfortunately (this is my last 'unfortunately', I promise), my time on Reedsy came to an end for personal reasons. I’ll explain since it’s no secret.

All my images on Reedsy were watermarked with my signature (my full name), which apparently violated the platform’s rules. Why? Because if a client saw my last name, they could contact me directly and bypass Reedsy, which meant the platform lost potential fees. I’ll admit this did happen a few times, but I had the good sense to redirect the client back to Reedsy.

After three years, an admin finally noticed and asked me to remove my full name from the watermark and any text on my profile. It was a simple and reasonable request, but here’s where the problem started. Profiles on Reedsy are public, and images appear in search engines like Google Images, meaning anyone could download my work and use it without permission. Sure, watermarks can be removed, but uploading my work without one in the first place felt like a bad idea. Btw, not only do I use watermarks, but I also use Glaze to protect my illustrations before sharing them online.

Anyway, for this reason, and also because I couldn’t get over the fact that full names were public at the time, something I won’t get into because, believe me, I tried over email, and my reasons went into the void (now, last names are just initialised, like Gabrielle R. Okay. Sure.), I had to close my account–they would have done it anyway because it was already 'flagged'.

Overall, if you’re willing to overlook the last name conundrum, I can’t recommend Reedsy enough. If you have a killer, solid portfolio and a love for books and editorial projects, go for it!

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I hope you'll find this useful! If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask (: Oh, and here's an old article I wrote in 2020, titled:

Tips to freelance illustrators to avoid being screwed over

Who knows, maybe I'll write another 'article' post in four years!

Instagram - ArtStation - Website - Inprnt - Etsy - TikTok

#art #artists on tumblr #Article #For Artists: My Experience with Commission Platforms and Illustration Agencies #Commissions #Illustration #Design #freelancer #gabrielle ragusi

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its-luna-noel · 19 days ago

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sun & shadow | gojo x reader

01. SUN: six-eyed dragons

summary: satoru gojo is one of the most powerful and prolific mafia bosses in tokyo. he's ruthless, murderous, and absolutely insufferable. you've been his personal assistant for the past year, perfectly content with your current dynamic. but there's change on the horizon and shadows lurking in every corner. being a mafia boss's assistant comes with its perks... and its challenges.

contents: 18+, MDNI, f!reader, mafia au, crime boss!gojo, smut, fluff, mafia dynamics, blood & violence, implied torture, guns, drinking, dangerous but infuriating gojo x capable and baddie reader, it's giving tony stark/pepper pots from iron man 1

word count: 7.5k

chapter: 1/2 next chapter

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: hi there! i've been reading jade city by fonda lee, so i've been wanting to write a mob/gang au since! i'm really happy with how this turned out, so i hope you enjoy! xx additional warnings for this chapter: eventual smut, oral (f! receiving), squirting, pulling out, cum eating, reader is bossy

Timid footsteps pad across wooden floors of Satoru Gojo’s lavish penthouse. Unfamiliar eyes searching, prying into corners, examining the modern art on walls and abstract sculptures on shelves.

Finding…you.

You’re standing in the living room, dressed in loose-fitting slacks and a sweater with a leather portfolio folder held in the crook of your elbow as you watch her freeze, caught snooping. You smile professionally at the young woman in front of you, who blinks at you in surprise. She’s pretty, exactly Satoru’s type, with her striking features and model-like legs that go on for days. But, unfortunately for her, she’s outstayed her welcome for the night.

“Good morning,” you say, keeping that respectful, almost clinical smile on your face. You hand her a garment bag, keeping your eyes respectfully off her body as she leans forward and grabs it. She’s dressed in Satoru’s button-down shirt, rumpled and wine-stained, and nothing else. She, in turn, averts her eyes, fidgeting and looking slightly embarrassed to be standing there with you. “I had your clothes dry cleaned overnight; your belongings and shoes are by the door when you’re dressed and ready to go.”

Her eyes stay averted. “You his girlfriend or something?” she asks.

You let out a little laugh; it’s not the first time you’ve been asked, but it never fails to amuse you, the idea of dating that obnoxious man. “No,” you say, smiling kindly. “I’m just the help.”

She nods and seemingly relaxes, now that she knows she wasn’t just caught being the other woman. She turns over her shoulder and looks back towards the bedroom. “Can I… say goodbye?”

“That won’t be necessary. Mr. Gojo is very busy this morning.”

She looks strangely disappointed, and you feel a little bad for her. Every girl comes in here, even knowing Satoru’s history, and hopes she’ll be the one to change him, to make him want to see them again.

It never turns out their way.

You gesture to a guest bathroom near the entryway to the penthouse. “Please, take anything you need from the bathroom. There’s toiletries there for your use. There’s a car waiting for you outside to take you wherever you’d like.”

She just nods and turns away to get dressed. She shuts the bathroom door behind her, and you leave her to it.

As you make your way towards the dining room, the surrounding bodyguards make sure the girl leaves through the front door and gets into the car.

Satoru’s head pokes out from around the corner. “Is she gone?”

You turn to him and sigh, putting your hands on your hips. “You’ve gotta start taking care of your own problems, Satoru. I can’t keep kicking them out for you.”

He grins and finally fully emerges from the hallway, coming towards you dressed in only his form-fitting boxer briefs, his hair tousled with sleep and sex. You avert your eyes as he comes to join you in the kitchen. “You can do whatever I want you to. You’re my assistant, my little shadow; you’re supposed to do all the shit I don’t feel like doing.”

You grumble under your breath as you sit at the breakfast table, “Wasn’t in the job description.”

He just laughs and sits across from you, stretching his long legs under the table. He leans back against his chair and watches you for a moment with a slight smirk on his face. He nudges your leg with his foot. “You’re not really mad, are you?”

You sigh and look up at him, examining his insincere expression, and still finding that you can’t be angry at all, because this is, indeed, what you signed up for. So you just huff and look back down at your breakfast, and Satoru grins, taking it as a no.

You eat your breakfast in companionable silence, like you have ever since you were hired and moved into his penthouse.

When you first started as personal assistant to Satoru Gojo, you tried to keep your old apartment, citing that it was only a twenty minute commute by train so why would you relocate your entire life to revolve around him? It was even nice to get your mandated time away from him. But one month into your new job, you realized how the odd hours were affecting you; you weren’t leaving until late into the night, and rising to be at his place before his morning alarm woke him up was exhausting.

So, you took his offer to move in, getting your very own ensuite and walk-in closet. It was a pretty good deal in return for dealing with his aggravating ass all day, every day.

“What’s the plan for today?” Satoru asks when he’s done eating, fingers interlocked behind his head, showing off his carved chest and biceps.

You keep your eyes firmly on the binder in front of you; you are all too aware of what kind of teasing one moment of staring could get you. “You have a meeting with the elders this morning about safety for local business owners. The higher ups are concerned that, with the rising tensions between us and the Hellhounds, businesses will take a hit.”

Satoru grumbles and grits his teeth. “This is a clan war; of course numbers will be down. At least we promise them safety and don’t throw them out on their asses to defend themselves.”

You give him a stern look. “Their loyalty and tributes pay our bills, Satoru. You need to respect their wishes.”

It’s a conversation you’ve had several times. Satoru, part of the recent movement that believes businessmen should honor the clan’s wishes and not the other way around, has never been soft on the wealthy populace like his father and grandfather once were, which frustrates those businessmen who feel they’re not being represented. Which, in turn, frustrates the leaders whose pockets they line.

He huffs and pushes away from the table. “I’ll go to the stupid meeting and put their minds at ease. Like I’ve done fifty fucking times.”

Despite his attitude, you relax into your chair. “Thank you.”

He nods, walking back to his bedroom to get dressed. You take the opportunity to watch him go, watch how his back and thighs move as he leaves��

“Stop staring!” he calls over his shoulder, and you curse under your breath as he laughs.

When Satoru returns, he’s dressed in his typical crisp suit, trying to cinch a silver watch on his wrist.

You set down your folder and come over, taking his watch and helping him buckle it. Your fingers brush against the warm skin of his wrist. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he grumbles, pulling away to fix his cuffs. “Is Suguru here?”

You shake your head. “He’ll meet us at the office, he said.”

You hear Satoru swear under his breath. “Can’t even meet him to brief on what we’re supposed to say?” he asks rhetorically, sounding more frustrated than he actually is.

“You know what to say,” you tell him. “Assure them that their profits will be protected while you and the Hellhounds battle, and everything will be fine.”

“I can’t guarantee that!” he argues, not for the first time. “I’m not a medium; I can’t see the future.”

“Neither can mediums, technically. Mediums only talk to the dead.”

He waves his hand. “Whatever. You know what I mean. I can’t tell them I’ll make sure they keep making money, not when there’s so much hostility from the Hellhounds. What I can guarantee is I won’t let them be slaughtered in the crossfire.”

You sigh and follow him down to the private garage, where his favorite cars are parked and free from threat of damage from tenants of the condos below his. He walks over to the black Bugatti and climbs in, the engine rumbling sensually as he turns the key.

You get in the passenger seat and sigh, clutching your portfolio to your chest as he rolls out of the garage. You stare out the window at the passing city. Abruptly, you ask, “Why do you hate them so much?”

“Hate who?”

“The businessmen, Gakuganji and the others. Even Senator Yaga.”

He takes a deep breath, eyes on the road. He says, “I don’t hate them. I hate what they stand for. I hate that they get to live in their pretty estates and watch my men put their lives on the line, and yet complain about inflation rising and profits falling. I hate that I have to bury some of my best fighters, and they get to dictate which rulings pass, which bills are signed. It’s not fair. They’re not out here dying for the clan. Why do they get to be the ones making the final calls?”

You can see the storm in the ocean of his eyes, the turmoil in their blue depths. It’s clear what the problem is; if he’s inherited all this power as clan leader and crime boss, why is he still beholden to everyone else’s wants?

Why isn’t he the god of his own destiny?

You don’t have an answer for him.

Satoru continues the drive to the office building silently, the only sound between you the music playing through the speakers. Finally, when you reach the Six-eyed Dragons headquarters, a three-story office space above local government offices, Satoru kills the engine and looks at you.

“You must think me childish,” he says softly, “whining about fairness and justice in a world like ours.”

You slowly shake your head, meeting his gaze. “I don’t,” you admit, just as softly. “I don’t think you’re a child. I think… you have an ideal of what you wish this world was. There’s no harm in that.”

He huffs, a smile curling his lips as he grabs the keys. He glances back at you ruefully. “Let’s get inside before Yaga throws a fit and comes to find us.”

You smile back and follow him inside.

Suguru is there, dressed in similar finery to Satoru. Where Satoru wears a button-down beneath his gray suit coat, top two buttons undone to show off his white gold chains, Suguru wears a black turtleneck, form-fitting across his chest. You try not to ogle as you make your way over.

Satoru glances over and rolls his eyes. “Get it out of your system,” he sighs dramatically, nudging you playfully with his elbow before he walks over to his underboss. Suguru just gives you a friendly wink, and you roll your eyes at both of them before they duck their heads together and speak in hushed tones all the way to the board room.

You follow after them, stopping right before the threshold of the meeting room. Then, as always, Satoru holds up a hand to you and shakes his head. “Not today,” he tells you, and you simply nod before retreating and taking your seat at one of the desks outside.

He wasn’t telling you that you were incapable of listening or understanding. Instead, he was protecting both you and the clan; you weren’t trained to sustain torture like other clan members were in the face of questioning. If he allowed you inside these meetings, you could be a weakness to the Dragons, and you could get yourself killed.

So you sit, and you wait, like a good little assistant as Satoru and Suguru attend their meeting.

“Sir,” Satoru says, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I’m saying–”

“I understand what you’re saying, young man!” Gakuganji snaps, pointing one gnarled finger at him from across the board room table. “You’re saying you can’t protect us in our time of need!”

The rest of the higher ups sit there, watching the argument unfold. Senator Yaga seems uncomfortable with the display.

Satoru tries again. “If I may–”

“This is the thanks you give us, those who push your legislation on drug control and violence?” Gakuganji continued. “Those who have paid tribute to your father, and to your grandfather before him? Those who–?”

Satoru stands abruptly and slams his hands against the table, shaking the wood with a low creak. This, finally, is what stuns the old man into silence. “It seems,” he says, his voice dangerously low, “that you and the others have forgotten why you pay tribute in the first place. It is not to garner favor from us, or to convince us to let you run free. It is in return for our protection during war time. It is to keep you safe, to save your lives. Not your profits, nor your businesses. That is why you pay tribute to the Dragons.”

He can feel the unrest in the room, the disapproving glances thrown towards him. He knows they don’t like him as clan leader; they wish he was still a simple underboss, a man under the rule of another, simply a weapon with no direct say over what violence he committed.

They’d rather answer to his father, but unfortunately for them, he was dead.

Satoru takes a deep breath and continues, calming himself once more. “Ryomen Sukuna and the Tokyo Hellhounds killed my father. It would call down his wrath to not retaliate. But wartimes will not treat us kindly; civilian foot traffic will decrease, as will spending at large. I am sorry to admit that. But we cannot let that be what stops us from taking revenge for my father’s death.”

The table remains quiet, but instead of frustration and indignation, Satoru sees begrudging acceptance in their gazes. Even Gakuganji nods, grimacing.

Glancing at Suguru out of the corner of his eye, Satoru sees that he’s smiling.

Then he returns his gaze to the men in front of him. “If you have any questions, please direct them to my assistant, and she will get you in contact with either Suguru or me. Thank you all for coming.” And with that he excuses himself from the meeting room, breathing a sigh of relief.

Suguru claps him on the shoulder, grinning. “Well done. You had Yaga shitting bricks in there.”

Satoru lets out a huff of a laugh, but he doesn’t respond as you stand from your desk and gather your paperwork. His eyes are fond as he watches you approach. “What do you have for me?”

You dutifully hand over a stack of papers. “I need you to approve these for me, and Senator Yaga already called; he wants a private meeting with you about the charity auction he’s having this weekend. He wants you to attend.”

“Damn,” Satoru sighs, “that’s right. That hardly gives me enough time to find a date.” He looks quizzically between you and Suguru, like he can’t decide which one of you he’d rather see dolled up as his date for a charity gala. Finally, with a shake of his head, he turns back to you. “Guess you’re coming with me.”

You give him an unimpressed look. “I have better things to do on a weekend than be your unwilling guest. Find somebody else.”

“It’s your job!” he replies indignantly.

“Dressing up like your date instead of your assistant is not in the job description!” you insist, equally disgruntled.

“Like we already established, your job description is to do whatever I need from you.” Satoru crosses his arms across his broad chest. “And this weekend, I need a date.”

You huff, throwing your hands up. “I don’t even have a dress to wear!”

So Satoru reaches into his pocket for his wallet and takes out a platinum card. He brandishes it towards you. “Get whatever you like. Just be ready for the auction.”

You growl under your breath and throw a look at Suguru, searching for sympathy. He just watches the exchange with an amused curl to his mouth. You sigh in response and snatch the credit card from Satoru. “Fine.”

Satoru flashes a dazzling smile, all teeth. “Great.”

“But I’m taking Shoko.”

Satoru rolls his eyes but concedes. “Fine.”

You smile back at him brightly. “Great. Am I relieved of my duties for the rest of the day?”

He sighs, but takes the folder from your hands and starts flipping through the pages. “I guess we can hold down the fort for a while without you for a few hours.”

Suguru chimes in, “Which means I’ll–” he grabs the portfolio, “–take care of this.” He winks at you. “I’ve got it, little shadow. Go have fun.”

You thank him, tossing one last questioning look to Satoru: Will you be okay? He waves you off. “Go have fun,” he repeats Suguru’s words.

And so, because you’re not one to disobey your boss, you turn and head out of the building, digging through your purse for your phone.

You hit Shoko’s number, calling the gang’s medical doctor. She answers on the third ring. “Something happen?” she asks, her usual greeting for you.

“Yes,” you say. “Satoru gave me his card. We’re going shopping.”

Immediately her attitude changes; you can hear her voice brighten up considerably. “Oh. Great. Come pick me up from the clinic; I’m treating a few of the kids.

You sigh. You hate it when the gang’s soldiers – the young members on the front lines day to day – get hurt. “I’ll be there.”

She hangs up without saying goodbye. As is her typical routine on a busy day.

You walk downtown to the clinic, and you tell the receptionist that you’re there to pick up Shoko. She smiles at you and nods, letting you know she’ll go tell Shoko you’re here.

So you sit in the waiting room, scrolling through your phone as you wait. A text from Satoru pops up.

|| Satoru Gojo: Miss you~ :( Suguru’s a terrible personal assistant

|| You: it’s been fifteen minutes

He doesn’t respond. You just shake your head fondly before slipping your phone back into your bag.

When Shoko appears, her face is drawn. “Ready to go?” she asks.

“Yeah.” You stand, examining the dark bags under her eyes. Your brows crease in concern. “You doing okay?”

She waves you off. “Just need a smoke. Let’s get out of here.”

You follow her out, watching her shake free a cigarette from the box. “Rough day?” you ask.

She chuckles quietly. “You could say that.” She puts the cig between her teeth and pulls out her lighter. “Itadori, Fushiguro, and Kugisaki were all injured by Hellhound soldiers. I’ve had to stitch all three of them up.” She sighs, letting out a breath of smoke. “I’m just tired.”

You look at her sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Sho.”

She waves her hand, dismissing your apologies. You’re the only one who’s not actually involved in the crime organization, having no say or action to do with the Six-eyed Dragons besides doing the paperwork and scheduling meetings.

You're not the one to be angry with.

“Anway,” she sighs, starting to walk down the street towards the shopping center. “What are we shopping for?”

You make a disgusted noise in the back of your throat. “A dress. Satoru’s making me go to a gala with him this weekend.”

“Why haven’t you two just fucked already?” she asks dryly.

You choke on your own spit.

As you cough and splutter, drawing attention from the passing people on the street, Shoko just smirks at you. Finally you croak, “What?”

“You heard me,” she says. “Why haven’t you–?”

“Don’t say it again!”

She laughs, glee written in her brown eyes for the first time since you picked her up. “I’m serious, though!”

“Shut up, Sho!”

She just shakes her head. “Aren’t you even a little curious?”

“Curious about what?”

“What he’s like in bed! Christ, you guys even live together, don’t you ever hear him with someone else and wish it was you?”

“No!” you cry.

She laughs again. “Fine,” she says, waving off the topic, “I’ll drop it. For now.”

You groan and lead her into the dress shop, listening to her chuckle under her breath the whole way in.

“Satoru!” you call from your bedroom.

“What?” comes his muffled reply.

“I need help with my zipper!”

There comes a begrudging sigh from the other room, and then you hear Satoru’s dress shoes on the hardwood floor as he comes down the hall. When he walks in, he’s adjusting his cuffs, looking at them instead of you. “You know, for my personal assistant, you sure are–” And then he looks up, and the words die in his throat.

You’re dressed in a mauve dress, with your hair down and makeup expertly applied. The sleeves of the dress are off the shoulder, accentuating the expanse of your throat to the top of your chest. The bodice fits you perfectly, and at the waist the fabric spills over, running off of you like a waterfall. You’re reaching backwards to try and tug the zipper further up, but it’s caught around the bottom of your rib cage.

You huff. “Can you stop ogling and just help me?”

He shakes his head free of the thoughts swirling there and steps up behind you. He wiggles the zipper a little. “Damn, you really got this stuck.”

“Don’t force it, you’ll rip the dress.” You try to ignore the sensation of his warm hands at your back, his skin brushing against yours.

Now it’s his turn to scoff. “You think I’m stupid or something?”

“Sometimes,” you tell him.

“I should punish you for that, you know.”

“Please, spare me,” you say dryly.

You can’t see him smile behind you, but you can hear it in his voice when he says, “That’s more like it.” Finally, with one last little wiggle, he gets the zipper free, and he slowly slides it up, his fingers tracing up your spine as he does.

You shiver.

He likes that, it seems; he leans a little closer, his warm breath tickling the hair at the back of your neck. “Shadow–” he says, using his little nickname for you.

You step away, trying to catch your breath. “We should go.”

His hands, frozen in air where they had once been resting on you, slowly fall to his sides. He nods and clears his throat. “Let’s go, then,” he says, and he gestures for you to lead out the door.

You do, grabbing your clutch on your way out. Your heels make an impressive sound on the hardwood. “Is Ijichi driving us?”

“Yes.” Satoru, who would usually be chattering about god knows what, is unusually quiet.

You don’t have much to say, either. So your ride in the backseat of the sleek black sedan is silent. You watch the city as it passes by.

When you pull up to the charity auction, it feels like a red carpet event. There’s journalists and photographers lined up along the entrance, and suddenly you feel a swarm of nerves in the pit of your stomach. But Satoru puts his hand on yours, and when you look at him, his ocean eyes are soft and encouraging. “It’ll be okay,” he says. “I got you.”

Then he comes around and opens the door for you like a gentleman, and you can’t help but think of what Shoko said.

“Why haven’t you two just fucked already? Aren’t you even a little curious?”

Well, now you are.

He holds your hand tightly as he leads you past the photographers, a dashing smile on his face as you head into the venue.

The entranceway leads right into a grand ballroom.

Satoru leads you to the front of the room, where a table is reserved for him and other notable members of society, including Senator Yaga and Gakuganji. Satoru pointedly ignores them in favor of speaking to you instead.

The dinner goes by quickly, with Satoru slowly learning more about you than he ever has, about your family and your childhood and your friends outside of work.

You find that, despite the fact he likes to run his mouth, he’s actually an attentive listener.

Then, once the dinner is completed, the auction starts. Satoru himself bids on a couple art pieces for the penthouse and his office, and once the last piece is sold, the ballroom starts to fill with dancing people.

Satoru looks at you. “You wanna dance?”

You shrug, holding your wine glass. “Not really a dancing person.”

He grins. “Liar. I’ve seen you at the club.”

You scoff, smirking. “That’s different. I’m not drunk.”

“I can change that.” And without another word, Satoru grabs your hand and tugs you up from your seat.

“Satoru–”

“Shh. Just trust me.”

And so, because you do, you follow him. And he buys you both a round of shots, letting you slowly sink into a tipsy stupor.

Once you’re happy and swaying to the music, he smiles and takes your hand, leading you to the dance floor. “I don’t think those moves of yours from the club would really match the vibe here, shadow,” he says, smirking at you as he wraps you up for a slow dance.

You smile and let him, resting your hand on his shoulder. “Yeah, I’d probably give Gakuganji a heart attack.”

“Actually, on second thought, I think you should.”

You giggle and rest your head on his chest as the two of you sway back and forth. He tightens his arms around you. “Thanks for bringing me tonight. I was a little pessimistic but…I had fun.”

“You’re welcome. Thanks for being my date on such short notice.” He bends down to put his lips near your ear. “And for looking so beautiful doing it.”

You let out another giggle, not moving from his chest. “You don’t look so bad yourself,” you tell him.

He huffs a small laugh, and he rests his cheek on your head. “I know.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Ever the humble one.”

“You know it,” he teases warmly. And as you continue to dance, you feel yourself sinking into him further.

It’s over too quickly.

He nudges you lightly, breaking you out of your thoughtless dancing. “C’mon, my pretty girl,” he says, and your heart flutters with the compliment, and the ownership of what he said. “Let’s go home.”

As he does, his words wrap round and round your drunken, fuzzy brain.

My pretty girl.

It’s quiet between you as you walk back into the penthouse.

Satoru quickly sheds his shoes, and you reach down to do the same, but he stops you with a hand on your arm. “I’ll do it,” he murmurs, his voice hushed in the darkness of the penthouse.

He kneels down and starts unstrapping your heels, his fingers warm and gentle on your ankles. You hold his shoulder as you step out of your shoes, finally letting your aching feet rest bare on the hardwood.

Satoru looks up at you, blue eyes shadowed. His hand trails up your ankle, up your leg, feeling the muscles of your calf. His touch is warm, like a blaze of fire up your leg, burning into your core. Looking at him down there, on his knee for you, if he wanted to he could just lean in and–

“Satoru,” you breathe, hand moving from his shoulder to his hair.

His breath catches, and he removes his hand from your leg and stands, rising to his full height in front of you. He pulls you close, his hands on your waist. “Little shadow,” he whispers, his lips pressed against your ear, “I need–”

You’re breathless. “Satoru–”

He groans at the sound of his name on your lips. “Please.”

“We shouldn’t–”

His hands come to cup your cheeks, and your breath catches as he leans in, his eyes fervent on yours. “I don’t care. I don’t fucking care. I need to touch you, to feel you, I need–” His words break off, his shoulders heaving with each breath, pupils blown wide.

You stare at him for a long moment, long enough that he’s starting to look desperate, aching. Finally, you whisper, “Okay.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

His lips crash against yours, claiming and totalitarian. It’s like he’s trying to merge the two of you into one entity, to crush you so hard into his chest that he swallows you whole. He moves his lips so deliciously against yours, so dextrous, so demanding, that it makes you weak in the knees. His arm wraps around your waist, holding you up as your legs threaten to give out. His tongue brushes against your lower lip, and you open up for him readily, breathing a soft moan into his mouth.

He grins at the sound. At the proof that you want this as much as he does. He threads his fingers into your hair and holds you there, opening your mouth further for his exploration. You sigh softly, letting him hold you right where he wants you.

His other hand roams your body, gripping at your hips, your waist, your thighs. Gathering up your long skirt and inching beneath it. Then both his hands move back to your zipper, slowly inching it down and opening the back of the dress.

“Satoru,” you whisper, pulling back slightly to look at him.

“I never should’ve even zipped this dress up,” he says, letting the fabric fall down your shoulders, off your body, pooling at your feet. He helps you step out of it, right back into his arms. “I should’ve laid you down and fucked you when you called me in, shouldn’t have gone to the stupid fucking auction in the first place.”

You huff a laugh, tilting your head back as he starts kissing down your neck again. “You had to go,” you say, eyes falling shut.

He grumbles, “I don’t have to do anything. I’m the leader of this fucking clan; I can do what I want.”

You smile at how petulant he sounds. You don’t say anything, you just let him believe he has his own free will as boss, and let him lick down your neck, sucking little marks into your flesh. He takes a step forward, forcing you to take a step back, then another, until he’s guiding you down the hall to the bedrooms. He shrugs off his suit jacket and drops it in a heap on the floor, then moves his hands to cup your tits, kneading them and thumbing over your nipples.

He steers you into his bedroom, nudging you backwards onto the bed.

You crawl backwards up the bed, watching as he undoes his tie and tosses it aside, before climbing up after you. He returns his lips to yours in a mess of tongue and teeth, and you both laugh when your teeth catch in your fervor.

“Sorry,” you whisper, head falling back as he starts kissing down your throat again.

He shakes his head. “Nothing to be sorry for, pretty girl.” He pushes you down against the mattress and kisses down your chest, starting to suck on your nipples.

You hum, fingers dipping into his hair. You tug softly. “Kiss me.”

“I am kissing you,” he mumbles around your nipple.

You shiver at the vibrations of his words. “You know what I mean.”

He hums and lets go with a pop, before looking up at you. “I don’t know what you mean,” he teases. “Can’t know if you don’t use your words.”

You groan and tug on his hair. “Kiss me on the mouth.”

He moans as you pull his hair and willingly comes up your body to kiss you. His mouth is fervent on yours.

He kisses you for a while longer, tongue tangling with yours, before he pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your mouths as he breathes heavily. “Can I go down on you?” he asks.

Your pupils dilate. “Are you sure?”

He chuckles, leaning in to quickly kiss your mouth one last time. “Yeah, baby. I’m sure.” And then he slowly inches his way down your body. “Can I?”

You nod, watching him as he kisses his way down your stomach, towards your pelvis. He slowly drags your lace panties down your legs, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. Then he tosses them aside, and he’s kissing up your thigh, throwing your legs over his shoulder as he mouths his way closer and closer…

Then he slowly licks a line up your pussy, stopping when his tongue gently nudges your clit.

“Fuck,” he groans, his tongue flicking over your clit again, “your cunt tastes even better than I imagined.”

You’re starstruck, barely able to comprehend what he’s saying. And yet, “Y-you imagined this?”

“All the time, pretty girl,” he says, sucking at your clit, gazing up at you through thick white lashes. “All the fucking time.”

Your head falls back, a soft cry escaping. Your hand tightens in his hair. “Oh, fuck, Satoru.”

“Oh, you like that, huh?” he teases. “Like when I suck on your clit like that?”

“Y-yes!”

“Such a good fucking girl.” He wraps his lips around your swollen clit and sucks again, repeating the same amount of pressure as before. He continues to babble between slowly working you up, eating you out like he’s savoring you. “Fuck, so goddamn pretty like this.”

“You really are, you know?” he asks after a moment.

You stutter, “A-are what?”

“A good girl. Such a good girl. You always do exactly what I need, when I need it, don’t even have to fucking ask you twice. And you take my attitude and throw it right back at me – fuck that’s so hot. You’re perfect, little shadow, just perfect.”

“Satoru?” you say, gripping his hair.

“Yeah, pretty?”

“Shut up and eat me already.” And with that you shove his face further between your legs.

He groans loudly, lapping animatedly at your cunt. “Oh, fuck,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “So fucking bossy all the goddamn time, so fucking sexy.”

“Satoru, stop talking.”

He glances up at you, showing off a shit-eating grin. “I’m talking to her, not you,” he says, and then he presses a kiss to your outer lips, and it’s clear he means he’s talking to your pussy.

You go to roll your eyes, but then he moves one of his hands and slowly pushes a finger inside you.

You yelp, not expecting the intrusion. His finger is long, and it’s immediately searching, trying to find a spot that’ll make you see stars, to make you cry out his name over and over…

When he finds it, curling his finger up against the top wall of your pussy against the spongy tissue there, you gasp. Your hips jump at the sensation. He chuckles quietly. “There it is,” he whispers, diving back in to start flicking his tongue against your clit again. He adds a second finger and starts gently stroking your g-spot as you writhe and cry out, hips bucking. His free hand comes to steady your hips. “Now, now,” he teases, eyes glinting as they gaze up at you again, “behave, pretty girl, or I’ll have to put you over my knee.”

You scoff and say, “Like to see you try– ah!” Your words cut off when he starts fingerfucking you with fervor, moving his hand hard and fast against your g-spot until your body is writhing beneath his. He keeps you pinned to the bed, grinning at you as he laps at your clit, riding each wave of pleasure with you.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he says, “cum for me.”

His fingers don’t stop working, and neither does his tongue, and all of a sudden you gasp, head flying up to look at him in panic. “Satoru, stop, I-I–”

He shakes his head. “Not happening.”

“Satoru, I’m gonna–”

“Give it to me, pretty.”

And as his fingers hit your g-spot again, and again, your back arches off the bed, and you’re shaking so fucking hard, and he’s wearing that same grin, and then–

A rush of white-hot pleasure, and then your thighs feel hot and wet.

“Oh, fuck,” he whispers in surprise.

“S-Satoru, I tried to warn you,” you pant, body still locked in ecstasy, eyes rolled back.

“Warn me? Baby, that was so fucking hot.” He licks his lips. “Let me see it again.”

So he starts slamming his fingers, the same way he did before, into your g-spot, until your walls are fluttering and you squirt again, orgasming so hard your vision goes black for a moment.

He groans, and he looks like he might cum right there in his pants. “Fuck, baby, so fucking good.” He pulls out his fingers and licks them clean, keeping his ocean eyes locked on yours.

Your gaze is hazy, pleasure-ridden. Dazed.

He grins again and crawls up your body, kissing you deeply so you can taste yourself on his tongue. You moan and kiss him back enthusiastically, sucking on his tongue.

He groans back before pulling away, panting. “You think you can take my dick now, pretty?” he asks.

You nod, already reaching for his belt.

He huffs a laugh and lets you unbuckle the belt, one hand coming up to gently stroke your jaw. “Such an eager thing, huh? You want my cock that bad?”

You growl under your breath. “You’re getting a big head.”

He winks. “I’m big everywhere else; it’s only fair.”

And when you finally get his pants down his thighs, you realize he’s not lying.

He is big, long and girthy and beautifully imprinted against his tight boxer briefs. You’re practically salivating at the sight of it, and your fingers dip into the elastic band of his underwear and slowly push those down, too.

His cock springs free, hard and blushing a pretty shade of pink.

You moan at the sight, eyes flickering from the pink tip to his face, where he’s still smiling down at you. “Ready for it?” he asks.

You nod again.

So he grabs your hips and puts you where he wants you, on your back with your legs hitched around his hips. He takes his dick in hand and slaps your clit with the tip, watching your body jolt at the stimulation. Then he gathers your wetness and slowly pushes in.

Both of you moan in time with each other, heads bent together as you both watch the intrusion. He pushes past the first ring of resistance slowly, gently, and then the rest of his thrust is effortless until he bottoms out.

You feel like he’s about to come out of your mouth with how deep he is.

Then he starts moving his hips, and it’s like he’s ravaging you.

He’s moving so fast it’s nearly blinding, drawing cries from your lips as he fucking demolishes you. Pleasure arcs up your spine as he thrusts into your dripping pussy, pornographic sounds filling the bedroom as he pulls out and slowly pushes back inside, groaning and praising you the entire time.

“Good girl,” he grunts, hands roaming your body. “Good fucking girl.”

Satoru grabs one of your legs and throws it over his shoulder, stretching you out until your hips are perfectly aligned. At this angle he hits something fucking devastating inside you, thrusting his beautiful cock up against your g-spot with every thrust. Each roll of his hips draws another cry from between your lips, another “Oh yes! Fuck, Satoru!”

He’s wearing a cocky grin as he fucks you into the bed.

He turns his head, licking a line up the side of your calf before leaving a quick kiss to your ankle. “That feel good, pretty girl?” he asks, as if the answer isn’t obvious.

You can’t even reply at this point, fucked so good on his dick that you’re seeing stars. You just reach down and grip his muscular forearms, nails digging into flesh as you gaze at him, eyes hazy and lips parted.

He grins a little wider, clearly pleased with himself.

“F-fuck, Toru,” you whine, eyes rolling back, “I’m gonna cum. I-I’m gonna cum again!”

He’s never heard you call him that before. He can’t deny that he likes it. “That’s it, pretty girl, cum for me. Cum for your Toru.”

Your Toru.

At his words, your body convulses and shudders as you orgasm again.

He groans as you grip him so fucking hard it almost milks him dry. “You’re so fucking tight,” he grits through his teeth. “Feels so goddamn good.”

You whimper, eyes still rolled back. “Oh please.”

“Please what, baby?” He kisses your ankle again.

“Want you to cum.”

He laughs softly, his hand coming down to rub at your clit again. “Give me one more and I will, okay?”

You sob, head falling back. “I-I can’t,” you cry.

“Yes, you can,” he says, his voice low and soothing instead of mocking. “You want me to cum, you’re gonna have to work for it. Now, give me another.”

As if he commanded it, you climax, your thighs shaking around him as you squeeze him once more. He throws his head back, the rhythm of his thrusts finally starting to falter.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, eyes screwed shut. “Gonna cum. Where you want it, pretty? Can I cum on your gorgeous face like a good girl?”

You just nod, eager to give him whatever he wants in return for him fucking you so goddamn well. And so he shuffles up your body until his knees are by your shoulders, and you watch him jerk himself off as he moans over you.

“So fucking pretty,” he whines, and he pumps his hand up and down his length over your face. “Close your eyes, pretty girl, close your eyes and open your fucking mouth. Open it, please open it–”

You do, letting your eyes fall closed and dropping your jaw to stick out your tongue. You hear him moan again, high and pathetic, before he cums, spurting heat over your cheeks and mouth. “Fuck, good girl, good girl, baby,” he chants as he fucks his fist over your face, squeezing out the last few drops of cum onto your lips.

You can hear him panting, and you open your eyes slowly to see him staring down at you. He groans. “Close your eyes, baby, I can’t take looking at you; I’ll cum again.”

You giggle softly before reaching up and dipping your fingers into one of the strings of cum. You gather the sticky warmth from your cheeks and dip your fingers into your mouth, sucking them clean.

He whimpers again. “Fuck, that’s so hot.”

You smile up at him around your fingers.

He slowly lowers himself down beside you. His arm wraps around your shoulders, and he tugs you towards his chest until your head rests on his shoulder. Both of you are breathing heavily.

“Satoru,” you whisper. “I have to clean my face off.”

He hums, closing his eyes. “Just give me a second; I’ll get you a washcloth. Need a second to recover.”

You huff a laugh, but let him take his breather. Finally, after a moment, he pats your hip. “Lemme up,” he says.

You roll over onto your back, letting him stand from the bed. He walks to the ensuite bathroom, gone for only a few moments before he comes back with a warm washcloth. He sits on the end of the bed and leans over you, gently cleaning off your face, quiet and thoughtful as he washes you off.

You watch him the entire time.

Then he tosses the washcloth into the hamper and climbs back into bed, tucking you against his chest once more. He takes a long, deep breath, closing his eyes once more.

“Satoru,” you whisper.

He opens one eye and looks down at you. “What, baby?”

“We’re not gonna…wake up in the morning and regret this…right?”

He lifts his head, suddenly realizing your question is serious. “Of course not,” he says, sounding a little stung. “Is that really what you think?”

You examine the look in his eyes. “I-I don’t know. It’s just…you’re my boss, you know? I’m just your assistant, I–”

He takes your jaw in his hand and tugs your face towards his. You blink in surprise. His eyes are hard and emphatic. “You’re not ‘just’ anything. Get that thought out of your mind now. You’re special, and I already told you I thought of doing this for ages. I should’ve done it before, but I was too chicken shit to do anything about it.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Why?”

He throws up his other hand, laughing. “Cause you’re you! You’re perfect and beautiful and give me shit all the time, and I didn’t want to ruin what we had. But you, in that dress tonight… I couldn’t not.”

You giggle.

He smiles at the sound and pets your hair, tucking a lock behind your ear. “I want you, baby,” he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Trust me on that.”

And so you do, and he holds you for the rest of the night, crushed against his chest. And every time you start to doubt his feelings, he tightens his arms around you, holding you a little bit closer.

You suppose you can trust him, just this time.

thanks for reading! -luna link to ao3 | next

(taglist: @heyl820)

#banners by cafekitsune #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #gojo fluff #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo #fanfiction #angst with a happy ending #angst

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buryhny · 1 year ago

Text

One Night Stand ; 03

➥ rundown ; as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.

→ genre ; enemies to lovers | CEO au | pregnancy trope | slowburn

→ Jungkook x y/n → contains smut, fluff and angst → Chapter Three ; wc | 6.5k

primarily on Wattpad

index ⇢ next chapter

"Okay now this is so fucking amazing! he really decided to choose me of all, this was unbelievable but- also what the heck?" You speak to yourself, walking side by side in your living room while you bite your nails and look at the damn email that you received.

Congratulations on Your New Role as Graphic Designer

Dear Ms Lee Y/L/N,

I hope this email finds you well. I am writing to extend my heartfelt congratulations on being selected for the Graphic Designer position at Jeon Industries.

We are thrilled to welcome someone of your talent to our team. Your portfolio speaks volumes about your ability to bring fresh and innovative ideas to our projects. We are confident that your expertise will significantly contribute to the success of our design team and elevate the visual appeal of our brand.

As you prepare to embark on this new journey with us, please feel free to reach out if you have any questions or if there's anything you need to facilitate a smooth transition. We believe that your unique perspective and skills will be invaluable to our ongoing projects, and we look forward to seeing the positive impact you will undoubtedly make.

Once again, congratulations on this well-deserved achievement. We are excited to have you on board and are confident that you will thrive in your role as a key member of our creative team. If there are any preliminary tasks or preparations required before your start date, please let us know, and we'll be happy to assist

Best regards,

Lee Y/L/N

Graphic designer

Jeon industries

See, the mail looks inviting, warm, exciting, and a mix of emotions rush inside your system. It's happiness as well as nervousness and anxiety. Like you're unsure of this yet. It doesn't sound very accepting yet, especially after you've seen the CEO himself. "they really did not have any choice?" You ask yourself and sit on the couch. As you give it thought, it also sounds funny. Remembering your now CEO, Mr. Jeon. You think that he probably has had many nightstands in his life.

It isn't surprising, as he's like every other man who has his needs, besides he's also good-looking and very rich. chuckling, you mentally slap yourself at the though of him fucking other women. "Sounds so fun!" You tell out loud, planning to hook up with someone sooner again. But with work now, you don't think you'll find the time especially after the phone call you received by an unknown number that was from Jeon Industries,

informing you that they need you present tomorrow to sign the contract and immediately begin work as the recruitment process had taken way too much longer than planned and the new project coming up needs you to be a part of the innovations too. That definitely scares you, thinking about how you're gonna work tomorrow and it being your first day sounds so hectic but now you've got nothing to care about except the job. You've finally been recruited after working at multiple cafés for a small salary. saying goodbye to the few friends you made at the cafe wasn't too bad considering how the friendship lasted for just about 3 months. you changed jobs a number of time so it wasn't a big deal neither was it too sad.

But working your passion, graphic designing is all that you've been wanting, and when the opportunity grabs your hand, all you've got to do is hold it back and tighten it to your palms. Leaving your phone on the couch you moved to your bedroom, grabbing the outfit that you're gonna wear tomorrow so you could iron it with no creases since you must look presentable on your first day.

You're gonna meet the other employees, see everyone there so you must look amazing too. Considering how elegantly the women looked when you first entered the Jeon building for your interview they walk around with files in their hands, their identification card around their necks and their heels clicking on the tiles, carrying them confidently.

You picked out a black turtleneck and wide leg pants that were grey to match with your top. It was classy and simple enough for your 8 hour shift. Dinner was down too, you weren't very good at cooking even though your mother passed down her old recipes to you in her cookbook that's probably somewhere inside a drawer, dusty and torn papers. You're not the cleanest person you know and you are also not one to treasure stuff, the cook book was your moms precious item but it's hidden under tools and you're the least bothered about it. So you stuck to eating food from the convenience stores down the street as it's open 24/7. It's one of the best parts about Korea, having stores open every hour and having a wide range of food to choose from.

It's amazing and there's always something new to try, it's fresh too and keeps you healthy or that's what you think. You missed out on it while you were at college because even though you were born in Daegu and your parents are from Daegu and Ilsan, you three moved to Canada at a very young age due to most of your family migrating there and also for financial purposes since your dad worked there for years and basically lived in Canada all his life even after marriage until he decided to move his family there so he wouldn't have to transfer money and was also welcomed home to his wife's and daughter's presence.

Preparing for bed, you picked up your favourite book 'shatter me' that you've been hooked on the past few days, it's a better way to fall asleep than viewing social media at night. The words blurred a bit while you read, until your eyes completely shut so you placed your book at the night stand and turned to hug your plushy so you could sleep well.

You are glad that the loud sound of your alarm broke your sleep and hurried you to dress up. you're glad that your apartment has a close distance to the building you are now working at. It's just a few kilometers and that allows you to be calm. When you stepped into the building, you were guided by the staff member to the CEO's cabin. You take a deep breath before you step inside the room to see the man seated on his chair, in his tailored black coat that was put around his chair leaving him with his shirt and inner waist coat. He was typing into his mac book and when you walked in, his eyes flicked to your figure then back to his screen.

The man who guided you here, whispers over to you to take a seat and pay attention to Mr. Jeon's words. Jungkook looks at you when you've finally settled on the chair, he pushes his mac book down and looks at you with his dark hooded eyes that look empty. Before his eyes could meet yours, he saw the fumbling of your fingers, that portrayed your nervousness to him even though your face showed no sign of anxiousness. He looks into your eyes as yours bore to him. One thing he now knows is that alcohol does shit to people but he doesn't think it affects you much because even though your breath reeked of champagne and your movements assured him that you're so fucking drunk, he can still see the same person seated in front of him. Only a bit more contained and disciplined and who speaks with respect.

"How have you been, Ms Lee?" He questioned you with an intimidating voice, he now places his arms on the table as his palms join together while he glares at you. His stares do make you flush but you avoid thinking about it so the effect doesn't show itself on your face. "Very well, Mr Jeon, how have you been?" You replied to him, keeping up an affirm tone, to hide back your anxiousness that slowly creeps up in between seconds. "Likewise." He responded confidently while his fingers drummed on his table that definitely didn't go unnoticed by you, his slim fingers looked gorgeous and were so beautifully molded.

The man tossed a file in front of you after questioning your wellbeing. "Read this carefully, and sign it if you agree on the terms and conditions and are fully aware of the employment contract." nodding at his words, you open up the document and progress to read each page not missing out on a single word. You don't want to make any mistakes so you go slow and steady with this, as it's the first step.

You signed the papers when you found everything okay, it was all fine and you agreed on all rules and information listed. "If you have any questions, proceed to ask Mr. Jung. He will give you a tour around here. You may leave." He muttered as he got back to his work, opening his mac and typing what he left incomplete. His tone was not something you were a huge fan of, it was arrogant, you could see it but he was also so full of attitude and full of himself. He spoke a handful of words and they were already too painful for your ears. You stood from your chair, bowed at the man before leaving the room.

You left out a loud exhale and walked out of the room. Mr Jung, the man with parted hair, full suit and a long face stood beside you after you walked out, he chuckled when he heard you sigh. "We all feel that when we meet Mr. Jeon. Let me give you a tour of the building" He guided you to the elevator, taking to you on level 31, just one floor below Mr Jeon's office. As the elevator opened up, you could see how well focused and quiet this department was. You walked along with Mr Jung, and he led you to your area.

"So this is the most important department, the graphic designing department, since our company Jeon Industries prioritizes our employees needs and wants, we have a very comfortable and convenient area for you, as you're the graphic director. There's some important features you must know. Before that, let me introduce myself. I'm Jung Hoseok, the manager of this department, you can call me Hoseok."

He reached his hand out to you, which you gladly shook with a smile on your face. The man had a beautiful smile that expressed his kindness and softness in his voice. "So, as you are aware, Jeon Industries specialises in advertising and selling of brands, brands that we own, as well as supporting the biggest companies out there. How does graphic designing work out? Well, we do adverts for the biggest and the best companies in a variety of industries, makeup industry, fashion industry, and even the food industry. And to mention Mr Jeon also has his own brand of clothing. Hence, this falls quite heavy on the graphic director, you."

Hoseok said, this made you exhale a quick breath, which you soon covered with a smile when you hear the man speak about his serious business. "It's not too bad, you'll do it. And The campaigns that you've obviously seen on TV, social media of Dior makeup, Kylie cosmetics, Balenciaga, Calvin Klein, Celine, Gucci, Louis Vuttion, Veneta Bottega and more were done by us, thus increasing their sales like shooo."

He gestured with his hands, showing the increase of sales and exaggerating it. "We've been doing well in the business world and have very high recognition for our amazing advertising team and creativity, so you've got to work a bit harder. We've got a project in two days and that's the reason why I'm explaining things fast and detailed. You must be prepared for anything and please don't hesitate to ask anything from me.

Treat me as your friend." He placed his hand on his chest and bowed. You already liked this man a lot. "So I will leave yo -" "Well, well, look, who's here?" A raspy honey-like voice spoke, you turned around to face it, and there you saw a beautiful man walking towards you with his palms inside his pants pocket. His beauty was out of this world, his expressive eyes that looked into your soul, and his walk? He doesn't walk, he models.

You noticed how Hoseok was sighing deeply when he saw the arrival of this man, he scratched his forehead and looked away, without meeting your curious eyes. "So this is our new graphic director? Ms. Lee Y/n! The one who replaced me in this position with zero work experience." You frown when you hear the words that come out of his mouth. Replaced him? Was he supposed to be taking this job? "Jimin, there's no need to -"

"Ah, ah, there is a need to let her know the damage she's done." The man pushed his silky blonde hair back and smirked. you noticed how plump his lips are, looking at you with a fake smile. "I was supposed to be the creative director, but you, Ms. No work experience replaced me! So you'll have to pay for it. You've got to survive in this job before you fly high." He speaks, gritting his words from his teeth before he walks away, knocking Hoseok with his shoulder. You looked over at Mr Jung, who clicks his tongue and heaves a sigh. You needed an explanation, if that man is gonna bully you at work for something you hadn't done and have no idea about, then you're gonna have to let the CEO know about this, you're not here to tolerate shit.

"Mr Park didn't-" "What did he mean by I replaced his position?" You asked, curious as to why the man was blaming you with hatred. "Since all the applicants weren't to the standard, Mr Jeon acknowledged Mr. Park and considered handing over the position to Jimin but that was not promised, the shortlist of applicants were not up to mark until you turned up so Mr Jeon decided to fill the vacancy with you."

"Why did Mr Jeon not give the position to Jimin? Hasn't he been working here before?" Hoseok looked at the ground, contemplating if he should go into more detail with this, but he decided it would be best if you know what the problem is since it concerns you.

"You see filling the vacancy with internal recruitment is a good idea, Jimin is well aware of how things work but filling the vacancy from external recruitment brings new ideas to the business and that's exactly what Jeon Industries needs you know-" Hoseok spoke, obviously hiding something because his eyes looked everywhere except yours which was quite obvious since he spoke to you making eye contact before. "Is there anything more?" He bit his lower lip, caught.

Is he really an open book with his expressions, he thought. "Well- Mr Jeon does not like Jimin very much, it's due to Jimin's behavior towards work but anyways I'm gonna let you look around your work space, remember if you need me I'm just by the corner of the right corridor."

Hoseok said, and you nodded, thanking him and letting him continue his work. You walked inside your corner, taking a seat on the office chair,looking around your personal office. You've now got a desktop, a laptop, and an ipad of your own to work with. There's some files and papers lying around and expensive stationery too, but overall what you liked the best was the privacy that you obtained here, your own working space.

"Wow, this is very different from a cafe." you speak to yourself and laughed quietly about it, Sighing, you leaned back on the chair and closed your eyes. You finally got a job that can show your abilities. Applying the years of hard work is gonna pay off now, and that makes you feel so happy.

waking up at 7 in the morning is difficult considering how you usually work part-time at the cafe so you had your own shifts but full time working is new to you, though it's exciting it is also nerve-wrecking to wake up so early and it's still your second day at work.

You didn't have much to do today, but you were informed to be prepared for a meeting tomorrow that will test your abilities. It's a meeting with Han Paris, and he's said to be the largest alcohol manufacturer and wants to advertise his latest alcohol flavor to the market. No lie but you're definitely feeling anxious about it but nevertheless you were ready to take up the challenge to showcase the best idea out of all now that you've got the position, you must show justice to it and not disappoint the CEO himself. When you got home, you finally felt relieved, like a burden was removed from your shoulders.

You've been living off with a pretty okay number of won that you earned from the café that you worked part time in. Finally, you're earning a salary that serves the right amount to live off with. To pay your rent, your monthly rations, and even have a very fair percentage to save or get yourself anything you want. Getting into your pj's, you prepared dinner for yourself, just a light salad, nothing too heavy, because Hoseok treated you with an evening snack as a welcome gift from him . That was a very sweet act. You didn't have to think about tomorrow's breakfast because the cafeteria is always open and the food tastes amazing!

You decided to check out some of the advertisements done by Jeon Industries just to get an idea of what they've been doing for years. So you pulled out your work laptop, Hoseok said you could take it home for any preparations, so this was the opportunity to use it. Everything was already saved in the folders. What blew your mind was that each ad campaign was very different from one another. That makes you think how innovative the ideas of the designers are, and that also scares you because tomorrow you will be seated with them and they'll be your competitors, though you all aim to just get the deal for Mr. Jeon.

You've got to present your idea and hear them out but it's not that easy, you want yours to stand out because it's not just about the idea, it's also a test that Mr Jeon has put you to, Hoseok mentioned that if Mr Jeon says you to be prepared he means it. Everything should be perfect, as he's a perfectionist, you can't afford to make a mistake. You're gonna work hard to achieve it. Moreover, it's his reputation and money that's at stake. Anyone would want it to be perfect. Once you've grasped the amazing and unique ideas of the past campaigns, you decided to research Han Paris and his business.

Since apparently, the latest wine has never been in the market before, the target audience is adults that drink and if that's not enough the prices of the wine are premium, that explains enough to you. You really took time to read every detail mentioned in the document that was sent by Hoseok, and then you took some time to think. The alcohol flavour is not just any berry, It's a vanilla mulberry flavour. When you think of berries, you remember the beautiful nature, but also, you remember how you grew up with your grandmother, spending your holidays with her at her lovely cottage where she planted a variety of vegetables and fruits. You smiled, remembering those tiny moments in life. You looked at the bottle and the packaging of the wine, it's very classy and expensive. Nevertheless, you decided to stick to your own vision of creativity. Maybe something new and out of the box could make it? We don't know unless we try.

You did a little presentation, wrote down details and points regarding it, and prepared yourself for what's coming tomorrow.

it's meeting day and you're nervous, your face shows and your fumbling with the fingers give it away too. but you're so glad that Hoseok was there by your side to give your company so you don't feel alone. for the betterment of your meeting, Hoseok advised you about how things work here during meetings. He'd also give you more closure to the CEO's working attitudes. How Mr Jeon, has direct communication, he'd give feedback only when he wants to, if he doesn't. Don't expect. Decisions made by the CEO are tough and final, he prioritizes the efficiency for his business and has high standards that he expects his employees to achieve and exceed, as a matter of fact, Mr Jeon has limited social interactions and he avoids making conversations to anyone in the building. "He may also raise his tone, if he's unsatisfied with your job, so don't freak out." Hoseok says at which you roll your eyes. Of course, he's got the money. And the right to do so.

Lucky for you, you haven't seen much of him after signing the contract, but since he'll be here for the meeting, you wont lie that you feel slightly more than just nervous now, knowing more about him. Its funny how he was a totally different human when he fucked you.

At 2 p.m., you walked into the board room along with a handful of other staff members that included Jimin. You took your seat, and Jimin sat in front of you. You didn't miss how his eyes looked right through you or how his eyebrows moved a lot while he smirks. He looked confident, very confident that his idea will be selected, and it's only making you feel anxious but you keep your face as blank as an empty canvas so no one sees what you feel inside. In about 10 minutes, the CEO of Paris Aliénor, Han Paris and three of his staff members walked inside. Everyone in the room stood to greet him. The man had minimal facial action, that means he had no smile. But he did have his chin raised, like he belongs here and holds superiority.

"Where's Mr Jeon?" He questioned and the staff looked at each other's faces, including you. "Uh, Mr. Jeon will be-" "call him now. You -" he pointed at you with his index finger. "Call Mr Jeon right now. My time is precious." You looked at him and pointed your finger at yourself because you weren't certain if he gave the instruction to you, the staff seated beside you elbowed you and gestured you to do as he said as you nodded and stood from your chair to get Mr Jeon.

"Shit, why did he tell me?" You murmured to yourself while walking towards the CEO's cabin. "Fuck, Just knock, poke your head in, and tell him to come, that's it." You exhaled and then pushed the door open only for it to be fully opened by Mr Jeon himself. You stumbled a bit and then looked up at him, and he looked down at you. "Uh- Mr. Han asked for y- "I know, you may leave."

He spoke without glancing over you even once, the tone he uses to speak has a hint of arrogance. It was rude. You nodded your head and walked forward while he followed you. Jungkook looked at your back while you walked, that same back;

"Fuck- let me go! Horny." You speak as the man tried to put his dick back inside you but you're worn out and cant take anymore, its almost 3 am and you've both been fucking each other like animals. It seems like it wasn't just you that was desperate for sex, he was too. Much more than you. "Fuck- one more round." He whispers to your ear in his raspy voice but you pushed him away and stood from the bed that was wet from all that white slime.

"No, i don't think i could walk-" your feet wobbled a bit when you stood, you didn't walk until you balanced well. The man admired your naked back, he loved how you had the perfect proportions. He could not take his eyes off you. "Seems like your ex hadn't fucked you right." This made you chuckle. "He didn't." You picked up your dress and lingerie, hooking it before slipping into the black dress. "Quickie, i'll be fast-" "get your ass home!" You both bickered, he looked up at the ceiling and laughed quietly. "Zip it up for me."

He turns his gaze on you, sees your back out open. Smirking as he grows closer to you, the elbow helps him lift himself higher so he can zip the dress up, he did, slowly as he took the time to kiss. "Fuck! you're one fucking woman!" "Of course I am." He places his palm on your hair, gripping it and pulling you down to kiss your neck. "I'll mark you for the last time, darling. Then leave and don't ever come back."

He shook his head to forget what he did and all that he told you. He had to permanently delete it off his brain, god he was so done with this. He could sense the tension, but he didn't want to act obvious. You both walked into the board room, and everyone greeted each other before the meeting started. Everything was going okay until the staff were asked to present their ideas. Jimin started off first, and his idea was a classy club advertisement. Han Paris seemed to really like it because you noticed how he kept nodding his head while Jimin spoke the details out and explained his vision. Mr. Jeon had no expressions on his face, like a clear palette. No emotions.

"Thank you so much for your attention." He spoke before taking his seat. He looked at you with a smirk like as if he had already won, and that only made things more difficult for you. Jimin mouthed, 'I win' with his plump lips and you sighed in nervousness, Jungkook noticed the interaction between the two of you, glancing at Jimin then you and he understood immediately, this was Jimin's trick to always out on his opponent even if they both work for the same company. "Ms. Lee, anything prepared for us today?"

Jungkook spoke, and you soon looked at him and then nodded. You've always been confident. Just go for it, don't let anyone make you feel nervous, come on. You thought to yourself and stood from the chair, walking towards the center, you plugged the wire to the laptop and the screen showed everyone your presentation.

You cleared your throat and then spoke about your idea. Everyone had their eyes on you, and that somehow made you feel comfortable talking more about your idea as they seemed interested. "When I first read the description of the product, It immediately took me back to my old days where I would spend my vacation with my aunt and grandmother in the countryside. We had a beautiful mulberry tree, that is the main feature of you-" "can we move on to the other details."

Han Paris interrupted your speech, wanting you to skip the part of your opinion on alcohol. He found it unnecessary and a waste of time. "Uh, s-sure." although you were understanding, it somehow broke your confidence and your flow of speech. suddenly you don't know what exactly to say so you just conclude the speech as fast as you can, so you don't feel anymore anxious

"I think a 90s colourful theme of an advertisement would attract more adults to try out the new flavour, in my opinion, that brings us to an end, thank you for hearing me out." Everyone nodded and gave a slow round of applause while you walked towards your chair to take a seat. Jungkook looked at you from the corner of his eyes and sighed. "What do you think, Mr Jeon?"

Han Paris questioned him, and then Jungkook turned to face him with a fake smile. "I think all my employees' ideas are very unique in their own ways. It's best if you decide along with your team." Han contemplated a little, speaking to his secretary and a few other businessmen from his side, and then he nodded when everyone agreed to him.

"I find Park Jimin's idea suitable. I appreciate everyone's efforts, but I'm going with Park Jimin's." Jimin looked at you and scoffed in arrogance, his actions made you feel worse about yourself. Jungkook nodded and then spoke, "we will begin with the preparations of shooting the advertisement." He swiftly looked at you as you're the creative director now and have to engage in the entire creature process.

"That sounds good to me." Han spoke and then shook hands with Jungkook as they both stood from their seats and then Han walked out of the room, Jungkook fixed his tie in place and looked around the room, he could see how upset you looked behind that fake smile you put on. "Everyone did their best, and all ideas were great in their own way. Don't feel down because you weren't chosen today. There's always a next time."

He spoke still coldly, it's what he always says once a meeting is done. you appreciated his words that he said before he walked away, after everyone stood from their seats to pay respect. "Oh, Ms. Lee, maybe next time, mm?" Jimin spoke and chuckled as he left with the rest of the staff, leaving you alone. You're not being dramatic. You're just embarrassed, and that's obvious. In front of your boss? And stupid Park Jimin, who now has something to laugh and mock about. You stood from your seat and took your belongings as you walked towards your desk. As soon as you placed your stuff and sat on the chair, Hoseok ran towards you.

"Hey, I heard the meeting went well. How was it for you?" You looked up at him and gave him a soft smile that he didn't mirror because he could see that it was fake. "What's wrong?" You sighed deeply and said, "it was okay, Jimin's idea was chosen." Hoseok rolled his eyes. He knew Jimin was already too arrogant and proud of his idea. Now that his idea was chosen, he's surely gonna make it a huge deal. "You did your best, and this was your first meeting. Come on. Cheer up"

You nodded and then chuckled sarcastically under your breath as you whispered, "Han Paris literally embarrassed me in front of everyone." Hoseok squinted his eyes and looked at you with concern. "What did he do?" "He shut me when I gave my own opinion and a story about my family relating to his wine." Hoseok groaned loudly and then looked at you, "you know what, screw him. Let's go get you a treat." You frowned and looked up at him.

"Treat?" "In celebration of your first meeting in Jeon Industries. Come on!" He gave you a wide smile, his white smile and oh boy, does that smile look lovely. You nodded, standing from your seat. You followed him to the elevator to get to the cafeteria. Hoseok is the only one who's being nice to you so far. Everyone else seems to have not noticed your presence yet.

"Did you have your lunch?" "Uh not yet, but-" "I need two cheeseburgers, two sprites, and a blueberry cheesecake, please." He ordered lunch for you even though it was not necessary. Maybe you should treat him with lunch next time. In a few minutes, he walked towards the table with the food in his hands, giving you a wide smile as he handed over your share of the lunch.

"Thanks, Hoseok." "No mention." He said as you both took a bite of the oozing cheese burger. He then took out the little box from the brown paper bag and placed it in front of you, "Here's your treat, the best cheesecake in town for your first ever meeting here at Jeon Industries, congratulations! More to come." You began to laugh, and so did he, laughing out really loud.

Like really loud. "You didn't have to." You say, and he waved with his hand, gesturing to you that it's fine. "I wanted to do this, and we can also take it as the beginning of our friendship." "Sure." The both of you giggled and high five. Hoseok took this time to speak a little more about himself and he even mentioned that his family and friends called him 'Hobi,' so you decided to tease him with the name Hobi too, he shrugged and said he doesn't mind it.

You didn't want to speak a lot about yourself, but you're surely excited to hear more about him. Like this, the working day ended and you didn't really feel bad about the meeting after all, it's a part of learning and now you know you should limit your speech when it comes to your opinion, people like Han Paris just don't care.

You learnt quite a lot for the day, and when you thought this was gonna be the worst day, it turned out better than you imagined. Except meeting Park Jimin in the basement. You walked towards your car, humming to yourself in your own world. Jimin rested his back in your car with folded arms and a smirk on his face. He's the last person you wanted to see.

He's getting on your nerves now. "Well, Ms. Lee, I came here to congratulate you." 'How you embarrassed yourself!' He could clearly see the frustration in your eyes and frown lines. Deeply exhaling, you continued to walk to the driver's side, opening the door, but he closed it with his hand and leaned towards it. "Oh, come on."

"What do you want, Jimin?" You murmured exhaustedly, still holding onto your car door not meeting his eyes because you just want to go home and sleep, you laughed too much today, ate too much, Hoseok treated you with his hidden snacks and you spoke for hours. You need some rest to get charged for tomorrow, and Jimin is certainly not helping. He sniggered cockily, not making any eye contact he looked up at the other cars that were leaving the car park.

"What do I want? Mmm, I love that question- I want your position, and I can only get that once you're out of here." Lord, it's been just your second day, and the man here is trying his best to get you out of your job. Why? Like he's already been paid well. "Jimin, not today, please -" "nuh uh, you stay here."

He pouted his index finger at the ground, showing his dominance with them and how he made his eye contact, his eyes so dark that you couldn't even see any light in them. "Jimin, I'm not in a mood to argu-" "So hear me out!" He spoke louder, making you flinch. He smirked at it and chuckled evil, looking up at the cement wall.

"Oh, Ms. Lee, you don't know what I'll do for the position. I'll do anything and everything to get it. And I mean it." The words came out of his mouth, teeth gritting at each letter, and he was dead serious about it. He's trying to scare you, and it's working. You got into the car without any hesitation, you can't stand him any longer, he looked like he would kill you alive. You, now officially, are a closer step to hating Park Jimin to death.

Day two, and it was fucked up.

when you got back to your apartment you removed those heels, threw your bag on your couch and immediately walked to the washroom. You removed your makeup and took a nice warm shower, still hearing Jimin's words in your head. He surely is crazy, crazy for this position, but there's no way you're giving up on it.

you weren't just given this job from the sky. You worked your ass off with part-time messy jobs, and now, finally, you got a full-time job that shines your inner talent. Fuck Jimin. You had no energy to watch TV or eat. God, Hoseok can eat so much! He forced you to eat with him. But he's a lovely guy, made you feel welcomed and all. You drifted off to sleep, and damn was that a good sleep.

You felt motivated to work today, and indeed, the day was going well. Rosè, the receptionist greeted you warmly, and of course Park Jimin had to bless your day on the first floor of the building. You discreetly ran away. His presence can literally ruin a good going day. You pressed level 31, the elevator stopping at a few levels, and employees walked in, greeting you with a bow, and you did too.

The elevator stopped at level 17, the door opening only to make eye contact with the CEO himself. Jeon Jungkook. His eyes met yours, and he immediately looked down at the floor, walking inside. You both could feel the tension building up, and it was suffocating because that night's visions always manage to pop up when he's around.

He gets them, too.

The lift began to get full, and he had to make more space for the employees to enter. He unintentionally grew closer to you, his arm rubbing against yours, and he sighed. You gulped and clutched your bag tighter. You've got no reason to feel this way, but you're more afraid. Afraid that people will notice this because that's the worst scenario you could imagine. As the elevator stopped at 24, a few employees left, leaving you with Jungkook and a handful of people. "Lee y/n, right?" A man with glasses who didn't look older than 22 spoke, holding a stack of papers in his hands.

You nodded, and then his smile widened. "I heard about your idea from a few employees. Guess what? it reminded me of my parents, too. My dad loves mulberry, and when I heard about your nature idea, I was surprised they didn't choose you." His words made your heart warm. People really spoke about your idea? For real?

"Thank you, um - there's always a next time." The boy nodded, and you smiled, bowing when he left at level 27. You couldn't hide that smile that kept getting wider and wider. You had to bite on your lower lip to refrain yourself from giving that extremely huge white smile.

Jungkook looked at you from the corner of his eyes, he obviously had distanced himself from you, leaving a meter gap. Seeing you hiding your smile had him scoff. The door opened, and Hoseok passed by. You immediately ran to him, forgetting that your CEO is just standing there watching you.

"Hoseok! Guess what?! "Woah woah, what is it cheesecake?" He joked, and you hit his arm. "What the hell is-" "cheesecake?" Jungkook whispered under his breath as the elevator door closed and had him all confused. Since when did Mr Jung call people by nicknames?

next chapter ⇢

#ask #bts #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook fic recs #jungkook fiction #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #btswritersclub #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #wattpad #one night stand

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ceyanabbiolo · 8 days ago

Text

PHOTOGRAPH // M.S [04]

Summary: Daphne Denoire, a 21-year-old, returns to Boston to after 3 years—but working for her brother’s best friend, Matthew Sturniolo, wasn’t part of the plan. He’s a 26-year-old multimillionaire. She’s the girl he was never supposed to feel this way about. With secrets between them and boundaries set, how far will they go for a love they never saw coming?

Warnings: none.

wc: 4657

Chapter 4: Sweetheart

“I don’t know, Daph,” Noah’s voice was hesitant on the other end of the line.

“What do you mean? It’s a great opportunity—you know how hard it’s been for me to find work.”

“I know,” he said. “But Matt? He’s basically family.”

“Exactly. Shouldn’t that make him more trustworthy?”

Noah clearly wasn’t thrilled about the idea of me working with Matt. I really didn’t understand why.

"Why?" I asked quietly.

Noah didn’t answer right away, but I heard the frustrated sigh that slipped through the phone.

“Did you already agree to it?” he asked.

“Technically… yeah.”

He let out another sigh. “You don’t need my permission to take the job, Daph. I just— I worry about mixing work and personal relationships. It gets messy.”

“Well, Matt isn’t my friend,” I said, sharper than I intended. “He’s yours.”

That shut him up for a moment. The silence on the line felt heavier than before, like I’d said something I wasn’t supposed to. It was true, though—Matt had always been Noah’s best friend, not mine. I had barely known the guy, well…outside my childhood delusional fantasies.

“Plus,” I added, trying to ease the tension, “it’s only a one-year contract. It’s a chance to get experience, build my portfolio.”

Noah’s line went quiet again. I waited, fingers twisting the edge of the blanket draped over my lap.

Then, finally, he spoke.

“I’m proud of you, Daph. Seriously.” He let out a breath. “I want you to do what makes you happy.”

His words were sincere, but there was still something heavy in his tone—like he was trying to convince himself it would all be fine.

“I’m excited to finally be out of the house,” I said, my voice a little softer now.

“Yeah,” he replied. “That’ll be good for you.”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. The silence that followed felt a little awkward, like neither of us knew what to say next.

“So… you’re good though, right, Daph?” he asked after a pause, his voice quieter, almost hesitant. “You’re not… sad or anything?”

He always did this—asked if I was okay like it made him uncomfortable, like he wanted to know but didn’t really want to hear the answer.

I just hummed in response. I wasn’t comfortable opening up—not when he’d never really made me feel like it was safe to do so.

Don’t get me wrong, after I told Noah what happened, he was furious. The kind of quiet, burning rage that sat just beneath the surface. He didn’t need many details either—just the mention of a dragon tattoo on the guy’s left arm, and he knew.

He called the police that same night. By morning, a guy named Carter was in handcuffs.

But after that, Noah never wanted to talk about it. He never asked if I needed anything or if I wanted to talk. All he said was that I should forget it ever happened and try to move on.

No one else knew—not our aunts, uncles, or anyone in the family.

The case moved quietly, and it ended just as quietly. Noah said it was best to keep it that way, that the news didn’t need to spread.

I didn’t disagree. I didn’t want people knowing either.

Still, that year changed me—in ways I don’t think anyone fully understands.

Junior year was awful after what happened. I lost all my friends that year. I stopped hanging out, stopped responding. I was distant, moody, and always tired. No one really asked why—they just slowly drifted away.

My grades tanked, too. Everything felt heavy and pointless.

It wasn’t until senior year that things started to shift. A counselor pulled me aside one day and asked what was going on. She didn’t press, but she told me I needed to get my grades up if I wanted to graduate on time.

So I tried. Not for anyone else—just to prove to myself I still could.

I tell myself it doesn’t haunt me, not four years later. I remind myself that so much has changed since then. New city. New apartment. New goals. A version of me that’s stronger, more guarded, more in control.

But no matter how much I try to forget, my mind always drags me back—to that house, that night, my old room. The sound of the door creaking. The weight of silence. The way the blanket was yanked off me like I didn’t matter.

Even now, it follows me in small, quiet ways. I lock my bedroom door even when I’m home alone. Loud knocks make my chest tighten. I can’t fall asleep without triple-checking the locks.

I still can’t stand the smell of his cologne—sandalwood and something sharp. I can’t wear soft fleece blankets anymore. I sleep under quilts now, because they feel less like then.

I freeze up when someone touches me unexpectedly, even if it’s innocent. My body tenses before my mind catches up.

People think I’m shy, or just private. Maybe I am. More than that, I’m protecting what’s left of me. The parts I managed to piece back together.

MATTHEW

I was lounging around in bed when Noah’s FaceTime call popped up on my screen.

“What’s good?” I answered, adjusting the phone so he didn’t see the mess of blankets around me.

Noah’s face appeared, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“What’s good, bro,” he echoed, leaning back in his chair like he had all the time in the world.

I raised a brow. “You callin’ just to copy my greeting or…?”

He let out a low chuckle. “Nah, I heard you offered my sister a job.”

Ah. There it was.

I rolled my eyes, staring at him through the screen. “So?”

“So?” he echoed, mocking me. “You can’t just go around offering my little sister a job without telling me.”

I leaned back against the headboard, unbothered. “Didn’t realize I needed your permission to hire someone qualified.”

He scoffed. “It’s not about permission. It’s about boundaries. She’s—she’s not just anyone, bro.”

“I know that,” I said, my tone steady. “That’s exactly why I offered it. She’s talented. She needs the experience, and I trust her.”

“You trust her?” Noah raised an eyebrow, giving me a look. “Or are you just too lazy to go through the whole hiring process?”

I smirked. “Maybe a little of both.”

He didn’t look amused. “Why do you even need a personal photographer anyway?”

“Been looking for one, to be honest, and the opportunity just… presented itself.”

I watched as Noah slowly nodded, like he was chewing on his thoughts, holding something back.

“Alright, man,” he finally said with a sigh. “Just… don’t be a rude boss or anything. She’s a sensitive person.”

I tilted my head, a small smile tugging at my lips. “You saying I’m usually a rude boss?”

“I’m saying you have a tone,” he said flatly. “And Daphne’s not like other people. She takes things to heart. Just… be decent.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” I said, holding up a hand in surrender.

Noah gave me one last pointed look before leaning back in his chair. “Alright then. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Later,” I said, and the call ended with a soft beep.

I set my phone down on the nightstand and stared at the ceiling for a second, thinking.

Daphne.

This was going to be interesting.

I swung my legs off the bed, grabbed my keys and helmet from the dresser, then headed downstairs to the garage.

I lifted my helmet, swung my leg over the motorcycle, and fired up the engine.

The cool morning air rushed past as I made my way to Daphne’s apartment. My mind wandered for a moment, thinking about how much she’d changed—still that quiet, guarded look in her eyes, but sharper now, stronger. I wasn’t sure if she knew just how much I was counting on her.

When I arrived, I parked in my usual spot and headed up to the 11th floor. I took a deep breath before knocking twice on her door, steadying myself.

The door swung open, and there she was—Daphne, looking just a little surprised to see me. Her eyes scanned my face like she wasn’t quite sure what to expect.

“Matt? What are you doing here?” Her voice was cautious, a hint of confusion in it.

I caught myself studying the way the morning light hit her hair, how her expression softened when she realized it was me.

“I’m taking you to the company,” I said, keeping my tone calm but firm.

“What?” she blinked, eyes wide. “Why?”

I let out a soft chuckle. “Because you’ll be working for me. So, I need you to sign a bunch of paperwork.”

The realization slowly dawned on her face.

“Oh, yeah. Right.”

“Yeah, right,” I teased with a smirk. “Let’s go.”

She suddenly froze, a hint of panic in her eyes.

“Wait—hold up. I can’t go out like this. I need to change,” she said, before darting back into her room.

I leaned against the doorframe, watching her disappear, shaking my head with a small smile. Thats cute.

After five minutes, she reappeared, looking a bit more put together.

“Alright,” I said,. “Let’s go now.”

We stepped outside into the bright morning, and I headed straight for the motorcycle parked near the building.

I walked slightly in front of her, leading her to where it was parked.

She stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide as she stared at the bike.

“You ride that?” she asked, her voice unsure.

I smiled, leaning casually against the handlebars. “Yeah. Best way around.”

Her face paled, and she took a hesitant step back. “I…I don’t know Matt”

I raised an eyebrow, cocky as ever. “Scared? It’s not that bad.”

She shook her head, hands fidgeting nervously. “I don’t think I can do that.”

I straightened up, flashing a confident grin. “Look, I promise you won’t die. I’ve been riding this thing for a while. Just hold onto me, okay?”

She glanced up, a hesitant smile tugging at her lips. “Okay… but don’t go too fast.”

I reached into my bag and pulled out the extra helmet, holding it out to her.

She took it awkwardly, and when I gently placed it on her head, her cheeks flushed a soft pink. It was a quiet, almost sweet moment — the way her eyes flickered to mine, a little shy, a little unsure.

I swung my leg over the bike and started the engine, the low rumble vibrating beneath us. “Alright, hop on.”

She hesitated for a second, then had to jump up to settle behind me, her feet barely reaching the footrests.

“Hold on to me,” I said, turning slightly so she could hear the calm in my voice.

She hesitated, then placed her hands on my shoulders. I chuckled softly.

“On my waist, sweetheart”

I heard her mumble, “My bad,” before sliding her hands down to wrap around my waist.

I didn’t know why I got this feeling in my stomach at that.

I kept my pace steady, slow enough for her to get used to the feeling but fast enough that the rush of air made her hair lift gently behind her.

“You good back there?” I asked with a smirk.

“Yeah, just… it’s a little bumpy,” she admitted quietly.

I glanced back, catching the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

“That’s normal,” I said. “ I’ve got you.”

At one point, I had to accelerate a bit, and I felt her instinctively lean forward, gripping me tighter around the waist.

The sudden closeness sent a jolt through me—her heartbeat quickening against my back, her hands firm but tentative.

I glanced over my shoulder and caught her eyes, wide with a mix of fear and trust.

“See? Not so bad,” I said softly, easing off the throttle to slow us down again.

She let out a breath she’d been holding and relaxed just a little, though her hands didn’t loosen their hold.

After a few more minutes, I guided the bike smoothly to the entrance of my company building.

I cut the engine, and the sudden silence was almost startling after the roar of the ride.

Daphne carefully lifted her feet down, steadying herself as we dismounted.

She glanced up at the sleek glass doors, still holding onto her helmet, her cheeks flushed from the ride and nerves.

I led Daphne through the gleaming lobby, the quiet hum of the building a sharp contrast to the morning ride.

When we reached the elevator, I pressed the button, and the doors slid open smoothly.

“Floor 15,” I said, stepping inside and gesturing for her to follow.

Once the doors closed, I glanced over at her—still a little nervous but trying to keep it together.

As we stepped out, I headed straight to my team’s workspace.

“Everyone, this is Daphne,” I announced as we entered the open-plan office buzzing with activity.

Heads looked up, some curious, some welcoming.

I pulled out a chair for her. “She’ll be working with us as our new photographer.”

One of my colleagues smiled and handed her a tablet loaded with the initial paperwork.

“Here’s your contract and some forms to get started,” one of my assistants said kindly.

I stayed nearby, watching as Daphne read through the documents.

“Any questions, just ask,” I said.

She looked up at me, a hint of gratitude in her eyes.

“Thanks, Matt.”

“Welcome to the team, Daphne,” I replied with a small smile.

When we finished all the paperwork, which took like a whole hour to finish, I turned to her with a smile. “How do you feel?” I asked as we started walking out.

She glanced up at me, a genuine smile softening her features. “Good, actually. I feel good.”

I nodded, pleased to hear it.

“Hey, look,” I started, glancing her way. “You hungry? I was thinking about grabbing some food.”

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, I guess I could eat.”

I grinned. “Alright, i’ll find somewhere good nearby.”

I watched her nod slowly, then pulled out my phone and started scrolling for food spots nearby.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Daphne staring down at her feet, unusually quiet. It wasn’t like the shy silence from earlier—this felt more like she was lost in thought.

“Alright, got one,” I said, looking up. “Let’s go.”

I handed her the helmet and turned toward the bike, ready to hop on—until I heard a soft, uncertain, “Help?”

I turned back and couldn’t help but chuckle. She was fumbling with the chin strap, brows furrowed in frustration.

“Here,” I said, stepping in. “Let me.”

Her hands dropped as I carefully fastened the helmet for her, my fingers brushing against her skin for just a second.

“There,” I murmured, our eyes meeting for a brief, oddly quiet moment. She looked away quickly, and I stepped back, grinning a little to break the tension.

Back on the road, I could feel Daphne settling in behind me—less tense, more used to the rhythm and speed of the bike now. Her grip around my waist wasn’t as tight as before, and she didn’t flinch every time I leaned into a turn.

We rode for another ten minutes before pulling up to a small café tucked between two buildings on a quiet street. It wasn’t anything fancy, but the food was solid, and I figured she’d appreciate something lowkey.

I parked the bike and cut the engine.

“You good?” I asked, glancing back at her.

She slowly took off the helmet, pushing her hair out of her face. “Yeah,” she breathed. “That actually wasn’t as terrifying as I thought it’d be.”

I smirked. “Told you I’d get you here alive.”

The bell above the café door chimed softly as we stepped inside. The place had a warm, cozy vibe—dim lights, wood-paneled walls, soft jazz playing in the background. A few people sat scattered at tables, either working on laptops or sipping coffee with pastries.

Daphne looked around, her eyes taking everything in. I motioned toward a table by the window.

“Let’s sit there,” I said, leading the way.

She followed, her steps light but still carrying that quiet hesitation she always seemed to have in new places. I pulled out the chair for her without really thinking, and she blinked up at me in surprise before mumbling a soft, “Thanks.”

I watched her from across the table as she scanned the menu. She still seemed a little quiet, but calmer now. Settled. Maybe even a little more herself.

The waitress came by with a polite smile. “Are you both ready to order?”

We both said out orders and handed the menus back.

As she walked away, Daphne quietly shifted in her seat, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. I leaned my elbows on the table, watching her.

“You settling in okay?” I asked.

She nodded, not looking up right away. “Yeah. I think so.”

There was a small pause before she glanced up at me. “Everyone on your team was really nice.”

I smirked. “Told you they would be.”

She gave a tiny smile, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. “It’s just… new, that’s all. I haven’t done anything like this in a while.”

“You’re doing great already,” I said, and meant it. “You’ll fit in faster than you think.”

She gave a shy nod. “Thanks. I just… don’t wanna mess anything up.”

“You won’t,” I said, firm and certain. “You’re a London art school graduate—no way you’re messing this up.”

Daphne let out a breathy laugh, ducking her head a little. “That doesn’t mean I know everything.”

“Doesn’t have to,” I replied. “You’ve got good instincts. That’s half the work.”

She looked up at me, almost surprised by the compliment, then gave a small smile. “You really think so?”

I shrugged, but the corner of my mouth curved up. “Wouldn’t have offered you the job if I didn’t.”

Her eyes softened, the tension in her posture loosening just a little more. She didn’t say anything after that, just looked at me for a second before glancing out the window. But the quiet between us this time wasn’t awkward—it was kind of nice.

When the food came around, and we start eating, and I tried to not break the conversation.

When the food arrived, the smell alone was enough to make both of us forget about the nerves. We unwrapped our meals, and I watched her carefully pick at her sandwich before taking a small bite.

I didn’t want the quiet to stretch too long, so I kept the conversation going between bites.

“So, Daphne,” I said, nudging her attention back to me. “Tell me about London. What was like… your favorite part?”

She paused, chewing slowly as she thought. Her eyes drifted upward for a second like she was pulling the memory from somewhere far away. “Mmm… I think the parks,” she said softly. “There were these huge ones everywhere. Green and quiet. Even when the city was loud, the parks made it feel… calm.”

I nodded, intrigued. “Did you go there a lot?”

She gave a small smile, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Pretty much every week. Sometimes with my camera, sometimes just to walk. I liked watching people. Couples, families, random tourists trying to take artsy pictures and falling over pigeons…”

I laughed. “So basically, people-watching was your hobby.”

“Pretty much,” she said with a tiny shrug. “That and coffee shops. There was one just down the street from my flat. I practically lived there.”

I watched her for a moment, the softness in her voice, the way her eyes flickered with a quiet kind of longing.

“Seems like you miss it,” I said.

She exhaled, slow and honest. “Yeah… I do. But I couldn’t stay, even if I wanted to.”

I tilted my head slightly, curiosity tugging at my brow. “Why not?”

She glanced down at her drink, running her finger lightly around the rim of the cup.

“My program ended, and... London isn’t exactly cheap. Especially not for someone trying to figure out what’s next. Rent was insane, and I didn’t want to keep relying on Noah for help.”

I nodded slowly, understanding settling in. “So coming back felt like the better option.”

She gave a small nod. “Yeah. Familiar faces. Familiar streets. Even if it wasn’t what I really wanted.”

I leaned back in my chair, watching her quietly. I wasn’t oblivious to what her family had gone through. Noah and Daphne losing their parents that young—it was something that never really left you. I remember when it happened. Everyone around them looked shocked, broken even. Noah barely spoke for weeks, and Daphne... she was just a kid.

Noah’s family had been through a lot after the accident. It shook the entire neighborhood. It was a shock for sure.

My family—yeah, we were well off. Grew up in a different kind of chaos. But that didn’t mean I was blind to what real pain looked like. I knew grief when I saw it. I knew how it could shape people. Turn quiet girls into guarded ones.

When I lost my father a couple of years ago, it was different. Chris stepped up and took over the company, while Nick and I inherited more than enough estates to keep us set for life.

“Still,” I said after a beat, “I think it’s brave. Coming back here. Starting over.”

She nodded slowly.

I smirked, shifting my gaze back to Daphne.

“So, with all that ‘big girl money’ coming your way, what’s your first purchase going to be?” I teased.

She blinked, looking down for a moment, cheeks flushing a soft pink.

“Uh… probably… to pay off my student loans,” she said quietly, barely meeting my eyes.

I nodded, impressed despite myself. “Responsible. I like that.”

I grinned and leaned in a little. “Okay, but what about something just for you? A little treat?”

Daphne hesitated, biting her lip. “Maybe… a car,” she said softly, still a bit shy.

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “A car, huh? So what’s your dream car? Don’t hold back.”

She glanced away, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “It’s pretty unlikely… but I’ve always wanted a Porsche.”

I didn’t even need to ask — I could almost picture it: that sleek Porsche with a baby pink-and-white interior, soft and stylish just like her.

After a quiet moment, Daphne glanced up at me shyly, her voice soft and hesitant.

“So… um, how are you doing, Matt?”

I gave a small nod. “I’m alright. Just been busy lately—there’s some stuff going on with Chris right now, but we’re trying to fix it.”

Her brow furrowed, concern creasing her forehead. “What kind of problems? Isn’t he happy? I mean, he’s getting married...”

I hesitated for a moment, choosing my words carefully. “Yeah, he is. It’s just… complicated.” She didn’t press further, simply nodding. “Got it.” I shifted the topic, trying to lighten the mood. “Other than that, I’ll be heading to L.A. for a shoot soon — in about a week. And you’re coming with me.”

Her eyes went wide. “Wait… I’m coming?”

I gave her a smug grin. “You signed up for this, sweetheart. It’s part of the job.”

She looked at me, confused.

“You clearly didn’t read the paperwork too closely,” I teased. “There was a whole section — ‘agree to accompany Matthew Sturniolo on all business-related travel as his assigned photographer.’ Ring any bells?”

Daphne blinked, clearly trying to replay the documents in her head. “I mean… I skimmed. But I didn’t think you meant like—actual traveling.”

“Oh, it’s very real,” I said, leaning back in my chair, arms crossed with a smug smile. “Welcome to the company life, Miss London Graduate.”

She shook her head, half-laughing, half-panicking. “I’ve never even been to L.A.”

“Well, now you will. Pack light—actually, no, pack everything. You’ll probably overthink every outfit anyway,” I teased.

Her cheeks flushed. “I will not.”

“You already are,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re thinking about it right now.”

She tried to hide her smile, her eyes dropping to her food. “Okay… maybe.”

I smiled, pushing down the warmth creeping up my neck. There was just something about Daphne—soft-spoken, wide-eyed, and a little too easy to be around. It was... different.

“You know,” I said casually, leaning back in my chair, “for someone who said she was nervous about the job, you’re doing a pretty good job of surviving your first day.”

Her gaze lifted to mine, and she gave a small, shy smile. “That’s because you’ve been nice. Surprisingly.”

I smirked. “Surprisingly? So you expected me to be a tyrant?”

“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “Just... intimidating. You kind of have that face.”

I raised a brow. “That face?”

“You know,” she said, fiddling with her straw, “the I-don’t-smile-often kind of face.”

I laughed, genuinely amused. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She blushed a little and looked down again, a smile tugging at her lips. I watched her for a second longer than I probably should’ve, something about her just… pulling me in. I cleared my throat and looked away.

“You’re easy to talk to,” I said, not really thinking.

She blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Me?”

I nodded. “Yeah. It’s…nice.”

Her cheeks turned pink again, and she tucked her hair behind her ear, eyes dropping to her lap.

“Thanks,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

The sky had shifted to deep navy by the time we stepped outside, the streetlights flickering on one by one. The city buzz had quieted, trading chaos for something softer—more calm. I pulled the helmet off the bike and handed it to her.

“Here,” I said, my voice low as I passed it to her. “Let’s get you home.”

Daphne took it with both hands, careful as always, and slipped it over her head—though not without a little hesitation. Her hair got caught on the strap again, and I watched her fumble for a second before stepping in to help.

“Hold still,” I murmured, brushing her hair gently out of the way to fasten the buckle under her chin. She looked up at me through the helmet, and even in the dim light, I caught the faintest blush warming her cheeks.

“Thanks,” she said softly.

I climbed onto the bike first, turning it on as the engine purred beneath us. She climbed up behind me a little more confidently this time—still cautious, but not as unsure.

The ride back was quiet. She didn’t say anything, and I didn’t mind. Her grip stayed steady, her cheek occasionally brushing against my back when we turned. It was peaceful—almost too peaceful for me, but with her, it didn’t feel empty. Just quiet in a good way.

By the time we pulled up in front of her apartment building, the streets were mostly deserted. I killed the engine and waited for her to hop off. She did, a little clumsily, pulling the helmet off and shaking out her hair.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said, eyes a little sleepy now, voice soft.

“Anytime,” I said with a shy grin. “How else would you get back home?”

She let out a quiet breath, the helmet still tucked awkwardly under her arm, and bit her lip like something else was on the tip of her tongue. Though she didn’t say it.

“I’ll see you in a week,” I added, shifting slightly on the bike. “I’ll text you the details—probably last minute, knowing me. I’m kind of slammed until the trip.”

She nodded, giving a small smile. “Alright. I’ll wait for it.”

The streetlight above her cast a warm glow on her face, softening the way her eyes lingered on me for a second longer than usual.

“Goodnight, Matt.” she said, giving me the extra helmet.

“Night, sweetheart”

READ ALL RELEASED CHAPTERS NOW!

[a/n: i'm so excited for this, I love brothers bsf tropes. like and reblog! mwah] –ceyana

Tags: @oopsiedaisydeer @ribbonlovergirl @mattsfrenchtoast @lm-a-mirrorball @cholejhunter @urlocallera @kingofeverythingmb @idkwhatimdoinghereeeeeee @malox12 @sturnslux3 @carrielovesmatt @vanillakissesxx @sagesturns @enviedparty101 @kiarasmaybank @mattscore @fmg05 @ed1tssturnn @kenah-sturniolo @tropicfessed @courta13 @meatballlover10 @ellssturn @idkwhatthisis2009

#ceyanabbiolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #fanfic #sturniolo #nick sturniolo #brothers best friend

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ssavaart · 1 year ago

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Happy Friday All!

In early 2020 (before Covid), I was painting larger paintings like this with Acryla-Gouache. I was really enjoying the medium.

I was inspired by a couple of photos by Annie Bertram on Deviant Art and asked permission to use them for reference.

Since I was just doing these for myself... I had NO plan. No test drawings. No layouts. I just started drawing on a large piece of paper and figured it out as I went.

Because of this... I never really figured out what to do with the hand on the left.

So... it just kind of disappeared.

I may go back and add it in later, I think.

But, for now... it's always a reminder of a time where I just broke out the paints and... played.

A couple months later... Covid hit and it was 3 years until I did my next large painting (the Gothic Vampire).

(Note: I can't find a reply from the photographer regarding permission or not. My memory is I heard back. But I can't find it.)

I DID hear from the model Theresa Fractale, a couple of years later, who was VERY upset that I had sold some postcards of the painting without her permission.

I was mortified. I hadn't even considered reaching out to the model. I offered her and Annie Bertram all of the profits I made from the sales, but she wasn't satisfied... and we left it at that.

These things DO happen with artists. Sometimes people claim you've "stolen" their art or style or likeness. And sometimes they have legitimate reason to do so.

Me, personally... I believe that artists should use ALL of the world around them for inspiration and if it is HEAVILY influenced by one artist or work of art... CREDIT them.

But change it. Don't directly copy it (unless you're studying someone's work... in which case... copy away).

But always credit.

I believe I REFERENCED the photos above, but didn't copy them.

But, I DID heavily reference them and, honestly, had NO intention of selling it (I still own the painting) or prints (I had only sold a few postcards before being contacted by the model... then stopped).

In any case... if the model or the photographer is unhappy with me selling prints... I don't sell prints. It's that simple.

Their work directly inspired MY work and while I feel that I've changed it enough to be unique... I don't want to cause another artist harm in any way.

Every artist is different. Some are open to sharing their art (like me) and others are very protective of their art.

But, there are no RULES to art. There is no such thing as "cheating" in art. There IS copyright LAW. And that is theft.

But that law ONLY (as far as I know) works if you are SELLING a copy of someone else's work. Profiting from it.

Not for learning. Not for practice. And not for posting online.

Just please... PLEASE credit the artist you're copying. Tell people why you are copying.

Nowadays, if I'm going to do a painting I plan on making prints of, I either use stock photography I've paid for or I get permission and pay the rights holder.

But, this is ONLY for pieces I want to sell prints of.

You do NOT need permission to use photo reference or even copy another artist's work for your portfolio or to post online.

Credit them. Share your inspiration with others. Tell them why you copied the works

But you don't need permission simply to make art. Ever.

Art should be shared. Copied. Studied. And most of all... enjoyed.

Sending Big Hugs from the Hobbit Hole. ♥♥♥

Scott

#art #traditional art #artists on tumblr #drawing #art nouveau #fantasy art #gouache painting #acryla gouache #annie bertram

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pennyellee · 1 year ago

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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰

title: champagne confetti pairings: heartthrob!jk, yandere!jk x fashion employee f!reader genre: dark romance, smut, porn with plot, 90s word count: 14K beta read by @chaoticpuff17 release date: 24.1.2024 23:00/11 PM CEST - 17:00/5 PM EDT

summary: You, a determined fashion designer, find yourself entangled in a collaboration with the irresistibly charming and egotistic heartthrob, Jeon Jungkook. Will this partnership remain strictly professional, or will he make the lines blur?

warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, emotional distress, teasing, unprotected sex, jk is selfish af, jk is delulu, oral (fem and m receiving), spanking, implied cum swallowing, creampie, soft yandere behaviour, obsessive behaviour, choking, rough sex, pussy pounding, bruises, manipulation, gaslighting, strong language disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, oppressiveness, which we do not condone.

author's note: so, ehm, this story got way outta my hands, it was supposed to be a goddamn rom-com with enemies to lovers trope - i wanted to build around the character trope of Rachel Green from Friends because she is my favourite character of all times, what i wanted to build around was how Rachel was offered a job at Louis Vuitton but it was in Paris - that was supposed to be the whole plot (with slight changes ofc), well and somehow it went in a different direction. Nonetheless I really enjoyed writing this fic and i hope you'll enjoy reading it as much. See you on the 24th chummers, love you! 🩵

“I know you took it,” you said, crossing your arms on your breasts. The heels of your black leather boots echoed in the apartment when you turned to face him.

“Took your breath away by that heated kiss, sexy, certainly. Otherwise I did not take anything.” Jungkook scoffed, crossing his arms defensively. The tension in the room was palpable as you square your shoulders, refusing to back down. You blinked twice at his cheesiness. The tip of your tongue moved to rest on the bottom of your upper teeth, your smile spreading on your face. The chuckle came out of you so naturally, laughing at his ridiculously ridiculous behaviour.

“Don’t play dumb, I know it was all you. You malicious sabotaging petty boy—” You retorted, articulation perfectly clear while the words laced with underlying frustration and anger.

He sighed, weariness settling over him. “You think I stole your portfolio to sabotage your career? You’re giving me too much credit, love.” Here he comes.

“I said nothing about my portfolio, Jungkook.” You said playing with his name on your tongue. A tense silence hung in the air as he considered your words, clicking his tongue, clearly annoyed and you were just getting started.

“I managed to figure that out. A drink?—” He offered, shrugging her statements of like snow in summer whilst he moved to the small bar that was a part of his spacious living room.

“I don’t want a drink, Jungkook. I want it back now,” you replied, your tone cutting through the casual offer. The anger in your gaze intensified, fuelled by the frustration of dealing with his nonchalant attitude.

“Let’s talk, baby.” He gestured towards the living room, as if trying to usher you into a more comfortable setting for the impending confrontation. He knew this was just a little shower, the real storm was still far away, giving him space to prepare.

As you moved, you couldn't help but notice the contrast between your demeanour and his. While your arms were still crossed defensively, his posture exuded a calm confidence that irked you further.

You took a seat on the edge of the sofa, not willing to fully settle into the illusion of camaraderie. Jungkook, on the other hand, sprawled onto a nearby chair, the picture of nonchalance.

“I need that portfolio to get a job because a certain someone has to be bitchy and sabotage my whole career because his big ass ego cannot take rejection. Give it to me,” you fired off, your words sharp and accusatory. He leaned back in the chair, smirking.

“Those are very bold words, Y/N. I would prefer to think of it as a wake-up call for you, not sabotage.” Your incredulous glare only intensified.

“Are you fucking serious Jungkook? A wake up call? You’ve just jeopardised everything I’ve worked for, and you’re calling this a wake up call?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze locked onto yours.

“I can get you a better job.”

You scoffed. The audacity of his response fuelled the simmering anger within you.

“You can’t get a shit, so give it back to me, and I’ll be on my way,” you requested.

Jungkook’s smirk remained, an infuriating mix of arrogance and nonchalance.

“No,” he said, smiling. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, the frustration reaching a boiling point. He leaned back, seemingly unperturbed by your rising anger.

“What do you mean no?!” you shot back, your voice sharp.

“You were about to make a decision that would have consequences beyond your imagination. I had to intervene.”

“What the fuck are you on again?” Jungkook’s gaze remained fixed on you, the intensity of his stare almost unnerving while your voice went an octave higher. Your frustration reached its peak, and you stood up, pacing the room as you ranted. You were breathing heavily, trying to calm yourself.

You needed that portfolio, it was a collection of years of a work and your best work to be specific. The lousy new version won’t get you a job at no high-profile fashion brand and you cannot afford to go lower than your last position.

“Alright—” You said defeated, turning yourself to face him again, you put off your black leather jacket and fixed your low ponytail, slumping back to his sofa. Spreading your arms on the backrest and cross your legs.

Jungkook took a moment to breathe in the sight before him; he was throbbing for you.

“—what do you want?” you asked. He leaned back further into the chair, putting his masculine tattooed arms to rest on the back of his head, showing his abs from under the white tank top he is wearing.

“What do I want?” he mused, as if contemplating the question but he already knew.

“Spill it out.” You barked and he chuckled at your eagerness. He got up from his seat and dangerously slowly walked towards you.

When he reached you, both of his arms pressed to the leather of the sofa inches from you, caging your body. Your breath stammered as you looked at him towering over you, the golden chain around his neck hanging.

“Firstly, I want you to be my good girl, apologise for being a brat the other day and admit there is an “us”. Secondly—” he whispered seductively, closing the approximate distance while doing so. He was right in your face, looking over at your lips evidently he was controlling himself to not attack them. He invaded your personal space. The sudden shift in atmosphere left you breathless, and you could feel the heat radiating between you.

You squared your shoulders, refusing to succumb to the intoxicating energy he exuded. “I won’t apologise for any shit, now secondly?” You said while trying to hold your horses. You hate to admit your pussy was clenching and leaking under his gaze. He was attractive, and no one could deny that.

His fingers grazed your cheek gently, a teasing touch that sent a jolt of electricity through your body. You swallowed hard, trying to maintain a semblance of composure.

“I want these feisty little plump lips wrapped around my thick cock—”

read here

tag list: @pamzn - @jaedayy - @mylyus-blog - @vanillacupcakefrosting - @jjeonjjk7 - @darkuni63 - @jeonaraathedreamer - @urlovelily - @kissyfacekoo - @looneybleus - @btspurplesky - @seokseokjinkim

ps: lemme know if you want to be additionally tagged! 🩵

lots of love, 𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

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lazuilis · 7 months ago

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[PLEASE REBLOG] ‼️EMERGENCY ART COMMISSIONS OPEN NOW‼️

my father passed away very suddenly a few days ago, and along with the emotional distress, this has put a huge financial strain on my family. in addition, my laptop just broke which i really need for work. i'm opening these commissions hoping to purchase a new laptop as soon as possible along with dealing with these sudden life changes.

you can fill out the commission request form here: https://forms.gle/6aAZRr3ej1y99tpMA

here is my portfolio if you would like to see more examples of my work: https://lazuilis.carrd.co/#portfolio

if you are not interested in a commission, i have a kofi as well: https://ko-fi.com/lazuilis

anything helps, thank you from the bottom of my heart

please message me or send me an email if you had any questions, thank you.

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cameronspecial · 1 year ago

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Let Me Write About You, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Writing About Their Sex Life

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Summary: Rafe and Y/N finally get to take a class together, but maybe she didn't choose the right class to share with him.

Masterlist

Y/N knew she shouldn’t have let Rafe take an elective with her. She should’ve called it fate when they didn’t get into the same class during the fall semester, but Rafe was very determined to be in the same class as her. She honestly does love being able to spend time with him during class; it’s just that maybe a creative writing class isn’t the best for both of them. Rafe respects her boundaries during class, letting her focus on taking notes and listening to the professor, so that isn’t the problem. No, the problem is that Rafe hates creative writing as a whole. He isn’t great with words and the only topic he wants to write about is his angel. So far he is skating by with his assignments; however, he needs to do decent on his final portfolio to pass the class. Y/N makes it her mission to make sure her boyfriend passes and she is starting to regret it. For the past assignments, she didn’t have time to go over his work before he submitted it, so she was unaware of the recurring theme in all of his work.

Rafe’s eyes bore into her as she read over his work, anxious for what she had to say. He doesn’t care about passing. If he doesn’t pass, he can always let his dad’s money pass hands to change that F into a B. Except this is a little different, Y/N wants him to do well so he wants to do well. Y/N glances over each word and heat starts to build inside of her heart.

I don’t believe in religion,

yet I do believe in Angels.

Because I found mine,

And she is absolutely divine.

I live for her smile.

She makes my life worthwhile.

She stole my heart

Because she is a work of art.

His poem has no structure and isn’t long enough per the assignment requirements. It does rhyme, yet she has to admit it isn’t very good. She is sweetened up by the fact that he chose her as his subject. As she reads the rest of his pieces, she notices how she is his only subject. She finally reads the last piece and looks up at him with a soft smile. “You wrote about me,” she states, flipping through the pages. He nods, “Yeah, you are my muse, Angel. Do you like it?” “It’s really sweet, Rafe. I just don’t know how I feel knowing that you wrote about our sex life for your short story and that our professor is going to mark this,” she explains. He flashes a proud smile, “Yeah, I think I really captured your beauty in that one. I was thinking about reading that one during our last class when we can share our work. Show that guy, who sits in front of us who keeps looking back at you, just how satisfied you are with me.” Y/N’s eyes widen to saucers and she shakes her head. “Rafe, please don’t read this in class. In fact, I think we need to work on some of these pieces because you can’t only write about me,” she begs, turning the stack of papers so he can read her feedback. He frowns, “Come on let me write about you, Angel.”

“You can, but if you want to pass, you have to choose three other topics to talk about. You can choose one piece to keep about me.”

“But I only want to write about you. Plus, I can’t choose because they all have to do with you so I love them all.”

“I know. Maybe we can alter the topic so it is still about me but not as obvious. My favourite is this sudden fiction. Your stream of consciousness is really good and you bring the scene to life with the senses. So let's see what you can write about for your other pieces.”

Rafe nods at his girlfriend’s suggestion. His heart flutters at the thought that she likes one of his works. He takes a second to seriously consider what she says and a light bulb goes off. “How about for the poem, I write about the future family that we can have?” he considers, already writing down the lines he is thinking of. She reads over what he writes and a smile blooms across her face. “That is a great idea. Now, we just need to look at two other topics.”

———

Y/N is studying in the library when Rafe comes rushing to her with his phone in his hand. “Angel, Angel. Look what I got on my portfolio,” he announces. His phone shoots before her eyes and she has to hold his hand to keep it steady. Y/N looks at the screen, reading the B- on display. She claps her hand in celebration and then wraps her arms around his neck. “This is amazing, Rafe. I am so proud of you,” she kisses his cheek. He revels in her pride, “It wasn’t all me, Angel. I have you and your brilliant brain to thank for the help. You make me smarter every single day.” Rafe couldn’t feel more lucky to have such an amazing girlfriend, who helps him grow as a person and succeed.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @queen-shadow22 @victory-in-the-llama @drewsmusee @starkowswife

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juvenillia · 2 years ago

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~ under my skin ~ John 'Soap' MacTavish x fem!reader [fluff/smut oneshot]

Summary: Johnny never wanted any more tattoos. Memories and people were more important to him than a little sketch on his skin. He didn't need those to be reminded of what he hold dear, because he kept all that in his heart. This opinion somehow changed when he met you and suddenly he found himself with five fresh tattoos that meant the world to him. Because these five tattoos reminded him of something he wanted to stay for eternity. The ink holding a meaning deeper than the bare eye could ever see.

a/n: this one was supposed to be a sweet short oneshot about Johnny falling for his tattoo artist but somehow it escalated very quickly and it could've been even longer but I stopped right there (for now)

tw/cw: tattooartist!reader, needles (ofc), tooth rotting fluff, smut, suggestive content, petnames, mentions of a past toxic relationship, flirting, mentions of angst, violence (but only the slightest, this is pure fluff), bestfriend!simon, comfort, love at first sight, pinning

wordcount: 10.4k [upps]

》 Read on AO3 《》 Masterpost 《

„C’mon Lt. Tell me,” Johnny bragged him for the millionth time today. They just arrived back at base after a draining operation, but as soon as Soap could turn his work brain off, he only had one thought on his mind. For three weeks there was one thing circling his thoughts and he had to pay a lot of effort to shove this one aside during the mission. Therefor he had no intentions in holding back anymore now. Three weeks ago, that was the actual day his world took a sudden turn.

Simon and he had to go undercover through London. Following a trace of a Russian insider who would lead them to their actual target. Nothing unusual. Something the 141 was used to it. Also, it wasn’t that uncommon that their trace led them to a well crowded area, where they needed to observe and find the target person. Usually, it would’ve been Gaz and Price going undercover, or some more rarely even Soap and Gaz, because they were simply the most unobtrusive, but this place literally screamed for Simon and Johnny to go. It was a tattoo convention. A place where numerous of eager artist presented their skills and works. A place where you found the most eccentrical looks. No one would bat an eye about the behemoth of a man Simon was, plus he already had numerous of tattoos covering his body. While Johnny on the other hand seemed to be just the guy looking for some new ones, next to his quite discreet one. They just blended in perfectly in between the many kinds of humans strolling through these halls.

That way they walked through the halls, keeping their eyes open to find their target. Price and Gaz stayed in touch with them over the comms, observing everything from afar, watching their six for just in case. They looked through all the booths, looked at every artist they could find. They didn’t know much about their actual target, only that he frequented a specific tattoo artist with a unique style. “Find the artist, find the man,” Laswell’s words echoed through Johnny’s head as he scanned through a portfolio of the booth he just stopped by. The works looked all perfectly made, with an amazing eye to details and such fine lines. Some medals and trophies placed next to their winning projects decorating the desk. If he ever would get another tattoo, he’d be sure to find an artist with that level of skill. Still, he really wasn’t into getting another one. Never found something with enough meaning to stay with him forever. In his job most of things were just temporally and those who weren’t, those were kept in his heart. No need to ink them into his skin. He absently browsed through the pictures of various body parts decorated with stunning grey and black artworks. His mind keeping track on the conversation Price and Ghost just shared when Johnny’s eyes just locked onto a picture of a back piece with which he was somehow familiar with.

“Something caught your interest?” a soft female voice dragged him out of his haze, but Soap only shook his head no. Closing the booklet in front of him as his eyes wandered slowly upwards to be met with a pair of bright eyes. Some of the prettiest he had ever seen sparkled into his own. Usually, he’d bring out a cheeky comment, a bold smile on his lips. But as his clear azure eyes stared into yours, no words left his throat. He was frozen in place, completely smitten. You gifted him one of your sweetest smiles, which just grew wider when you noticed another man behind the speechless Scot. “Simon!” you cried out, eagerly rounding the desk to give the man a quick hug, which he returned, somehow a bit tense. Johnny only blinked in disbelief at the two of you.

“Hey…” Simon gave your shoulder a quick pat before his eyes met Johnny’s. A warning hidden in his glare, something the Scot haven’t seen so often aimed at himself. Mostly at enemies while interrogation, but nearly never at himself. It made him swallow, before he calmed himself.

“I hope you aren’t looking for a replacement,” you teased while taking his beefy arm into your hand. Inspecting his tattoo sleeve, or better said your work from a few weeks ago. Letting your delicate fingers follow the black lines down to his wrist. Perfectly healed before he had to leave for deployment again. You always made sure he came as early as possible so that your art wouldn’t get destroyed.

“Why should I leave ‘e best?” he nudged you with his elbow, only the slightest, before you let go of his wrist. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. His eyes pinned at your figure. Softer than Johnny was used to it.

“Well, won’t argue with that.” You laughed, while pushing your hands into your hips. You wore a simple pair of black cargo pants. Pockets stuffed full of necessities for the day. Your phone, your vape, some little snacks, some business cards, a pocket mirror and your favorite lipstick, a small ring light for your phone, and stuff you could need at a convention. Headphones loosely hanging around your neck connected to your phone, and the crew tag hanging loose from your belt around your hips, where your shirt was neatly tugged into your pants. The simple shirt revealing your own tattoos on your arms. “Besides…” your voice got that teasing, nearly mocking tone again. “I’d kick your ass for cheating on me.” You punched his upper arm playfully. Knowing that you could never even cause him pain. That’s why he was one of your favorite customers, you could just pull through an eight-hour session without him growing tired or whiney. He would just sit it out, listening to your tea, sharing a quick smoke in between.

“’m sure ya do, sweetheart.” He smiled softly beneath the casual black mask. He just got dragged out of this private comfort as Johnny cleared his throat a bit too dramatic for Simon’s liking. “That’s John by the way.” A sigh left his throat as he pointed at his teammate who eagerly stepped forward to you.

“Friends call me Johnny though.” His smile reached his eyes as he reached his hand out to you and you took it, shaking it with a smile. Eventually his thumb brushed over your knuckles during the process.

“Pleasure to meet you. Heard already a lot,” you cooed, squeezing your eyes shut while crossing your arms in front of your chest. Johnny’s smile faltered for a second, thinking about the things his Lieutenant could’ve told you already. Hopefully nothing too embarrassing he thought. Just then you told him your name before he repeated it quietly. Letting its sound roll over his tongue, the same smile from earlier on his lips.

“Would love to chat with ya more, y’know, but...” Simon interrupted the scenery in front of him. His glance searching for the blue ones of his teammate, sending him a knowing glance. “work…,” he said in his usual stern manner but still calm. You only nodded your head.

“And I thought you would drop by to say hi. I’m violated, Riley.” You faked a shocked face before a chuckle left your throat. Simon’s glance softened at your statement. “My work’s also waiting.” You pointed to a guy with a naked upper body half and half-finished chest piece. “Some awards to bring home you know.” You smiled smug patting your flat palm against his chest. Simon only nodded; his brows relaxed.

Johnny couldn’t suppress his bright smile the whole time, his eyes watching every move you made. It amazed him how much at ease you were with Ghost, because Soap knew it took a lot for him to be comfortable around people. Especially civilians. But Johnny couldn’t blame him, you already got him hooked as well. That’s when something clicked in his head. “Wait a sec.” He pulled a picture out of his jacket. Simon tensed, as the Scot moved to show you said image. “Yer recognizing that style?” his voice was serious but somehow, he couldn’t suppress the adoration beneath it.

“Johnny…” Simon instantly had a scolding tone lingering in his voice. He knew from the beginning that he could’ve asked you about that specific artist. He knew you were quite known in the scene, having contacts everywhere, but he didn’t want you to get involved in all that his life was. Yes, he told you a few things about it. Especially when getting his own dog tags inked under his skin. You knew about some things he didn’t like to talk about. Especially when you decided to grab some dinner after a session, and he grew more comfortable around you. And with that he grew to become one of your closest friends. You knew many things about the ghost he was. You knew that his job was bone crushing and bloody. Still, he didn’t want you to get corrupted by it.

You ignored Simon and took the picture out of the Scot hands. Your eyes lingering on his forearm for a while - you called it occupational disease – before you investigated the work in the picture. It was nothing special for the unknown eye, but you saw anything that wasn’t traditional made. You saw every line that had a personal note in it. “Check out Mad Hatters studio, Misha I suppose. Could also be Sasha, he did learn from Misha though,” you stated while still looking at the picture.

“Thanks, bonnie.” Johnny’s tongue was faster than his mind as he once more caught himself starring at you. You looked at him, your face relaxed again. Your features were like a flame, warming him up from the inside as himself became a moth pulled to it all the way.

“Don’t even wanna know what you need from them. Good luck,” you said looking at Simon, who’s brows were ached in concern. You then turned back to Johnny. Your eyes once more clinging to the small piece on his arm. “I could do better.” You winked at him, the smug grin playing on your lips as you gave the picture back to the Scot. It caused Johnny to really start considering getting another one. He was that impulsive, and if there wasn’t that dumb job to get done, he would immediately jump onto your chair. Just to see how you would do it, just to see you more, feeling your delicate fingers running over his skin. Simon watched the scenery with an unsettled rumble in his stomach, as you walked back behind your booth and pulled some black rubber gloves out of the box. Smiling once more at the men in front of you and with a little wave you turned around to get to your model.

“Boys… focus,” Price cleared his throat and scolded them after watching the whole situation a bit longer than he should have in the first place. But still you gave them the needed evidence. You led them to the person they needed. So, the operation could process any further until they found their actual target three weeks later.

All those incidents leading us back to the day when Johnny didn’t stop to ask his Lieutenant about his tattoo artist. “Why’d ya want to know anyways?” Simon’s Manchester accent was thick as he rolled his eyes. He already knew why the Scot wanted to know. Simon knew that his teammate didn’t want any more tattoos. They had plenty of talks about it. Always when he came with a new one back from leave, Soap told him ‘not up to that Lt’. And suddenly he wanted to know your name and the studio you worked in, or better said own.

“I really want to get that one tattoo…alright. Made up ma mind.” Johnny’s nearly whiney voice pulled at the little strings that made his bag of nerves up. Simon was a patient man, especially when it came to his team. Still, he didn’t want to get you involved with more of his life. Knowing that Johnny would tell you so many stories that wouldn’t be meant for your ears. Knowing you too well, fearing that this could become more. “C’mon Lt. Please. Dinnea let me down!” Simon only rolled his eyes at him and wrote an address down. You could see his hesitation in his handwriting, but Johnny would find out this way or another.

And a few days later Johnny found himself in London, in front of a cozy looking studio. Warm lights inviting him in. A bell jingled sweet as he pushed through the door. The place lovely decorated with plants, fairy lights and some candles. Framed pictures of stunning works along the wall as he walked up to the counter. “One moment.” A familiar voice clung from the back to his ear and made him instantly smile. It was ridiculous how your voice was already imprinted in his brain from such a small encounter. “What a pleasant surprise. How can I help you, Johnny?” you cooed smiling at him. Relaxing your arms on the counter and your body weight on it.

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” his voice was calm as he leaned against the counter, closer to where you placed yourself. “Gonna show me how ye can do better, bonnie.” The smug grin facing your figure. The first time you caught him off guard. This time he prepared himself.

You exhaled sharp, followed by a chuckle. “That’s not how it works, darling.” You reached to your side and pulled a book in front of him. “I have a tightly filled schedule. Didn’t Si told you how I work?” You raised a brow at him. Johnny only shook his head no, while the smile started to falter. Seeing the gloss in his eyes slowly fading made your stomach turn. Why did he affect you so much? “Damn idiot…” you pinched the bridge of your nose. You opened the book and went through the appointments of the next days. “How big you’re planning?” Your eyes scanning through the upcoming projects.

His eyes instantly lighting up again. He was like a puppy that just got told they were going to the park. It was adorable. “Well, as big as it need to be. But upper arm.” He pulled the sleeve of his shirt up to reveal his perfect toned arm and presented the area he thought of as placement. A veiny hand circling around the spot. Your eyes were pinned onto the flexing muscles as you felt a certain warmth creeping up your stomach. It’s not like you didn’t saw well shaped men rarely, but something about John MacTavish was different to say the least.

“Alright.” You slid your phone over. “Put your number in. I’ll see if I can fit you in the next days.” He eagerly took the phone and put his number in. Before you could say something or even snatch it back, he even dialed it to give himself yours. It made you chuckle as you took your phone back. You looked at the contact, there was only ‘johnny’ written with his number of course. “Lastname?”

“Already wanna take it, lass? I like straightforward.” There was that coquettish smile back on his face. His azure eyes staring into yours. “MacTavish, would suit ye though.” He slowly licked over his lips, as his eyes didn’t dare to avert from yours.

“You’d wish.” You typed his last name in. “Johnny is just a really common name, and you don’t want me to call the wrong one. Don’t you?” you teased, still a slight blush on your face. He shook his head no, while straighten himself up.

“Aye, would be a shame.” He placed his hand quickly onto yours which laid on the counter. Giving it a quick squeeze, before leaving again. “Waitin’ for yer call, bonnie.”

That call came like two days later. You managed to rearrange some appointments to clear a day for the Scot. Telling yourself that it was only because he was a friend of Simon. Not because you found quite a liking in the man and his flirtatious manner. So, two days later he was seated in your shop again. Upper half of his body completely stripped. He told you he was more comfortable with wearing no shirt at all, then pushing the sleeve up again and again. Yes, he could’ve just worn a tank-top but who were you to judge? He was quite a treat for the eyes. You just prepped his upper arm with the stencil as he told you a story how he tried to sneak into the military while he wasn’t even old enough.

“Simon was right, you’re unbelievable.” You smiled while smoothing the stencil paper over his arm. He stayed completely still, while his inside was trembling as he felt your delicate touch on his skin. Even with you wearing those gloves it gave him so much to enjoy. Desperate for more already.

“Hope he only told yer good things. Dinnea want ye to think bad of me.” He smiled sincere. His face turned to you, as you slowly removed the paper. It was close to yours, as your glance found his once more. The smile he wore reached his eyes and again you found yourself with the same warmth on your cheeks, your own lips tugged up in a genuine smile.

“Don’t worry. Only the best.” You chuckled while rolling with your stool a bit away to look at the outline of the work. “Take a look, if we can start or if you want to change a thing.” You took a mirror to let him get a proper look at the piece. “Speak now, or forever hold your peace. Because this is going to stay with you for eternity.” You were used to customers completely smitten by the stencil itself, but with Johnny it was different. His eyes were shining bright, as bright as his smile. But his eyes were more pinned on you, and not onto the future piece of art decorating his skin.

“Dinnea think of anything to change. Dae yer thing, bonnie,” he cooed, and it gave you that feeling in your guts again. Somehow you believed he didn’t even care about the tattoo itself. Still, he used something that fitted him perfectly. Well, as perfect as you could assume from Simon’s stories. And the following hours reassured you. With that you started to let the needles sink into his skin for the next seven hours. Black and white ink forming a masterpiece just after your liking while you listened to all the stories Johnny shared eagerly with you. Asking you many questions about your life beside the studio and customers. Asking about your family. You learned that he had two sisters and was really close to them as well to his mum. He shared openly so much information about himself, that you yourself kept talking about everything under the sun.

Sometimes he had to reposition his arm that you could reach a spot better. What led to a half hour of his calloused palm resting on your thigh. He couldn’t help but let his thumb stroke over the fabric of your pants. You’d lie if you said you didn’t enjoy it. With your job it came naturally to be close and kind of touchy-feely with your customers. But it wasn’t so common for you, that it affected you personally. Especially when it came so casually by him. He kept talking about that one time when his teammate, Gaz, fell out of a helicopter. Even if Johnny wasn’t there himself, he told the story so passionately that you believed you were there yourself while his thumb still caressed your thigh. His gently touch making your stomach tingle as you tried to stay focused.

Soon seven hours came to an end and a boar’s head was now engraved onto his upper right arm. Not like the usual animal portrait you so often had to do. No, it was indeed something more meaningful to him. Connecting the pride for his home country to his family, mixed with your personal note to give the tattoo a specific spice. Johnny loved it as he stood proudly in front of the mirror, investigating every line you made.

“It’s fuckin’ perfect. Bonnie, yer the best,” he exhaled while placing a quick peck onto the crown of your head while turning back to the mirror. His gesture left you breathless for only a second. Emotional outbursts after a finished session weren’t something you were unfamiliar with, but Johnny always added another note to his actions and words. A subtle undertone that gave you butterflies.

“Glad you like it.” You smiled putting on another pair of gloves on to clean the piece and wrap it up properly. “You know how to take care of it?” you said calm while placing the second skin onto the fresh wound. Johnny shook his head slightly and it earned him a chuckle. “Alright, the second skin stays on for like five days. If it loosens before, don’t break your pretty head about it. Then you wash it with usual water and cream it with special lotion. I’ll give you some. No gym, nothing to make you sweat more. No sunbathing and no swimming for the next two weeks,” you said reaching to your supplies to get a tube of tattoo med out. “You should drop by then to let me have a look. If we need to improve…redo some things, or if everything heals perfectly fine.”

“Lass could simply ask me out if ye wanna see me again.” He winked while pulling his shirt back on. His eyes never leaving your figure and finding a liking in seeing you all flustered. He was good looking; indeed, he knew the effect he held against woman. But with you it was different. He just wanted you to like him, to look at him like he thought he looked at you. Smitten.

“Not my kinda style.” You shrugged it off. What somehow demotivated the Scot. The whole time you were flirting back and forth with him, and when he discreetly asked you out, you turned so distant. He wouldn’t give up so easily though. Therefore, he was way too eager, but he called it a day. Paying you your loan and with that you somehow parted ways. The job was done, and you both went after your business.

Unfortunately, Johnny couldn’t stop by after the two weeks mark was passed. He got suddenly drafted in again, he just shot you a quick text.

Johnny MacTavish [09:03] Sry, bonnie. Works callin. Gonna make it up to ye ;)

You [10:36] Don’t ruin my masterpiece.

You [10:39] Come back alive.

Johnny chuckled silently after your second message arrived. Those three words gave him an unbearable urge to see you again. Already sitting on the truck next to Simon. “Ye couldn’t keep her away forever, Lt.,” he snickered, shoving his phone into the pocket that would stay off the fields.

“At least I tried…” Simon sighed half annoyed, but half amused. He knew both of you well enough to know, that you’d fit each other’s liking way too good. It was hard to keep up with one of you, but having both combined would bring him the death of his peace. But he was sure, that it wouldn’t become something more. At least he hoped. You had rules, and on top of the list stood: No flings with customers. Especially not after what happened with your ex. So, Simon was sure that Johnny would become at furthest a good friend to you, just like Simon did. He was as sure as he was that this operation would be easy and that nothing would keep them occupied for too long. But Simon was so very wrong about both.

The mission went south faster than Price could smoke his cigar. Kyle was the worst injured, while Johnny didn’t sustain any injuries. It made it clear again. Clear how dangerous the path was they were following. He loved his job; he wouldn’t change a thing. But to know that he almost lost his teammates, it made something to him. So, while sitting at the train station, that should bring him back to Scotland to spend some time to recover, he pulled his phone out.

Johnny MacTavish [12:29] Yer havin a free spot for yer fave Scot?<3

You [12:39] Drop by the studio tomorrow noon.

You [12:41] Sacrificing my days off for you. Make it worthy.

Johnny MacTavish [12:42] Aye!

And Johnny made sure to make it worthy. Instantly jumping on a train to London, instead of home. Booking a hotel nearby on the way and making sure to collect some stuff on the way. He picked up some good lunch on the way to the studio. Making sure to treat you right. He even thought about buying some flowers, but he didn’t want to make you somehow uncomfortable.

When he wanted to push the door once more open, it didn’t move an inch. Just then you walked up from the inside, unlocking the door and letting him in. “Hello there. C’mon in.” You held the door open for him to slide in. Locking the door once more after him, avoiding passing customers. “So, what’s the idea Mr. I don’t want any more tattoos?” you asked him mockingly, while he placed his stuff at the couch in the waiting area and unzipped his hoodie. You were used that customer often came back after the first one. Literally nobody stayed with only one of your pieces. For Johnny you were overly glad that he came back though.

“It’s even more special than before,” he said calm while pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to you. You took it in, and a little smile played on your lips. “I trust ye with it,” he added before his eyes met yours. You knew that look. It wasn’t the cheeky and playful smile. It was genuine, meaningful and he entrusted you with this, it made your heart flutter. So, you took your graphic tablet and get it to work out. Just as perfect as it needed to be.

You were seated on the couch in your waiting area next to him, while he kept telling your stories of operation and after-operation celebrations. He didn’t talk about the most recent one. You kept listening to his voice as you drew the outline for his next piece. He leaned a bit closer into your side, his head resting on your shoulder as he looked at the tablet. His talk paused. A smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You didn’t move, let him rest against you as you inhaled his scent. He smelled nothing like you’d imagine a soldier. Nothing like Simon when he came to the studio. He smelled just fresh. His mohawk holding a scent of balsam in, but also like a tone of green apple. “Something to fault it?” you asked calm.

“Yer dae even better.” Johnny let his head linger on your shoulder while his eyes scanned over the screen. There was shown a hat, a cap and a skull in your original style. Something so insignificant to others, but something so important to him. You sketched it out and prepared the stencil as he stripped his shirt once more. You stood in front of him as you looked at the piece from the last time. Checking if anything was damaged, a satisfied smile on your lips. Just then you prepared his left chest for the three symbols. His hands twitched as you stroke over his chest, and he just wished for you to ditch those damn gloves. His eyes pinned down to your figure, as you wore a little smile, while your fingers worked over his chest.

It took another good amount of time to get this piece done. You took more breaks this time. Sharing some of the food he brought, and many laughs, while he laid on the flat bed and your next to him. Carefully going after the lines of the stencil, while his arm slipped around you and his hand lingered on your waist so often during the process. You didn’t mind. Neither of you said something about it, just enjoyed the company, the closeness as you shared some more chats. But sooner than later this session come to an end. That way you found yourself standing next to him, observing his face as he looked at the latest addition in the mirror. A smile playing on his lips. It wasn’t like the bright and toothy ones; it was heart melting and genuine. Something so meaningful. “Tapadh leat,” he said a bit absently. It made you raise your brows. His eyes finding yours, while his hands finding your waist. “Thank ye,” he repeated for you to understand, and you smiled, while he didn’t dare to pull you closer. His huge palms only squeezing your side a bit as you stood in front of each other.

“It’s my job, Johnny,” you said calm. And he shook his head no, while he once more squeezed your waist what made you tilt your head in confusion slightly. But you didn’t give it another thought. You wrapped his tattoo up; he pulled his clothes on again and you went to the front desk for the check out. You broke down the skin routine once more with him, but he interrupted you.

“Go out with me,” he said abruptly before you could even say something more. His voice was desperate, but at the same time so gentle.

“MacTavish…” you sighed while your own heart ached. You had your rules. A rule you broke once, and it was the worst decision you ever made. Simon had to help you back then to free you from the stalker your ex-customer and ex-boyfriend was. And with his leaving you lost many regular customers and friends. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it again, even if you knew that Johnny would be different. Even when your heart screamed to just say yes to him.

“Otherwise, I need to come back every time on leave to get another one.” His voice gave you some hints of a joke, still you weren’t so sure about it if he really was joking. His eyes were filled with a certainty, a determination. You averted your eyes.

“I am sorry…” you said calm. But he only declined it. His face a bit defeated, but still something told you he wasn’t done with the thought. Simon told you once how stubborn this man could be, so you steeled yourself, hoping that you wouldn’t give in. Even if it would be hard when those azure eyes literal begged for you to do so.

“Gonna stay ‘n London for three weeks. If ye make up yer mind. Ye ken how to find me,” he said while leaving your studio.

You exhaled deeply after closing the door after him. Waving after him as he crossed the street. His eyes still bright as always. You cleaned up the studio and went to the front desk for a last time today. As you flipped you through the bills to put them away something different caught your interest. A little paper neatly folded between the notes. You took it and unfolding it. It revealed a sketch of your own face. It was a unique art style, and it made your heart ache even more. Under the sketch was something written in a sloppy handwriting. ‘nae stunning as the original’ You pressed the paper to your chest, while a desperate chuckle left your throat. “John MacTavish…you’re gonna be the death of mine,” you said calm to yourself as you put the drawing into your personal journal.

“He came for ‘nother one?” It was a few days after your gripping encounter with the Scot when Simon was seated in your studio again. Working to add a new part to his back piece. You only nodded, even if he couldn’t see it. “Ya like him, don’t ya?” The Brit said calm. You paused your work for a second. Not answering him was answer enough for Simon, what made him chuckle deeply.

“Si…” you exhaled while continuing your work. You wanted to say so much about that topic because he was right. You liked him. He already reserved a place in your heart for himself and the last days were only filled with that god damn genuine smile of the Scot. You found yourself often at night looking at the portrait he gifted you. Asking yourself how long you’d be able to turn him down.

“Tomorrow, drinks at yer place.” It wasn’t an offer, more like an order and you sighed. Not like you and Simon didn’t spend some time of sessions together. You were close after all. Drinking and talking or just watching some stupid shows together at your apartment. Even if the thought of you meeting his teammate still annoyed Simon, he couldn’t bring himself to watch two idiots pinning for each other when it was way too obvious. And even if he wouldn’t admit it for anyone to hear, seeing two of the people he liked the most falling for each other, it made the coldness of his own heart melt. You only needed a little excuse to ditch your rules. Even if Simon hated to break those. If it meant that you could finally be happy again after your ex, he was willing to help.

Lt💀 [17:09] 1900 at the studio

John MacTavish [17:11] What yer up to Lt?

Lt💀 [17:15] Don’t ask stupid questions.

Johnny knew better than asking more questions, so he got ready and made sure to be punctual. It was Sunday, so the studio was indeed closed as he stood in front of it at 18:56. As Simon walked around the corner, wearing all casual sweatpants and a hoodie, Johnny was even more confused. The Brit had a plastic bag from a nearby grocery store in one hand. “C’mon Johnny.” He punched his shoulder playfully while walking around the studio, aiming for a door in the side alley.

“Mind fillin’ me in, Lt?” he arched his brow at him while trailing close after him. Hands pushed into the pockets of his denim pants. Somehow, he felt overdressed next to the way too casual look of his Lieutenant.

Simon looked at his watch, waiting for another minute to pass. So, it was actual 7 p.m. and he pressed the button of an intercom. “It’s Simon for tonight,” he said, shooting Johnny a glare who only looked more confused but raising his hands in defense. The door started to buzz, and Simon pushed it open, signaling Johnny to follow him. Climbing some stairs before they found themselves in front of another door, which already stood a gap open. So, Simon naturally walked in, kicked his shoes of and Johnny followed his lead.

“Hello there,” you chimed while walking up to give Simon a quick hug, which he returned before ditching his mask. Your eyes switching to Johnny who just wore a stunned smile. He had thought of many things to happen tonight, but not to find himself in your apartment together with his Lieutenant and a various beers and whiskeys.

You all shared some good laughs, some amazing and catching stories. You told them about some cringe customers and very hilarious stories they shared with you. Johnny and Simon entertained you with sharing stories of their daily events. Johnny didn’t know what excited him more, the way he saw his stoic superior so at ease around you. Joking, laughing and even open so much. Or the fact that you were seated next to him, somehow always having one of his limbs touching any part of you as his eyes were glued to your lips.

It was an easy-going evening when you all had way too many drinks. You were just on the way to bring some empty bottles over to the kitchen when you could hear the teasing voice of Simon once more. “For a lad, that didn’t want any more tattoos, ya fast with getting’ new ones,” he joked, and Johnny only scratched his neck. His cheeks tainted red, mostly from the alcohol running through his system you supposed. “Ya know, Kyle even bet ya’d get a trump stamp if necessary.”

Johnny let out a wholehearted laugh. To be honest, if his whole body was already covered in tattoos and this would be the only way to see you again. He’d do it without hesitation. Hesitation was something you didn’t know today either. Just like that you walked over to the Scot. “Real talk now.” Without a warning you sat down, straddling his lap as your arms found his shoulders. Johnny only swallowed, sobered up so suddenly as you pushed your body weight onto him. “If you ever get a tramp stamp and I am not the person to do it… we won’t have a shared future darling,” you said mockingly, while your hands found some loose strains of his hair. Simon only laughed as he leaned back in the armchair, sipping on the beer in his hand. Watching the scenery in front of him in amusement.

“Bonnie, yer the only one for me. Ya ken,” he said while his beefy hands found your waist, helping to stabilize you on top of him. His words held much more meaning in it than you’d realize in your drunken state. His heartbeat quickened up as your fingers played with his hair. The redness of his cheeks rose, just like a certain tightness in his pants. He just hoped to not scare you away. But he was sure he wouldn’t be able to hide it, you simply had to feel it the way you were seated just above the bulge.

You only laughed. Eventually you felt his arousal, eventually you just chose to not pay any attention to it. “Then let’s do it,” you joked, leaning a bit back to look at him properly. He looked flabbergasted back at you.

“Sweetheart, yer drunk,” Simon cooed, and Johnny literally forgot that the Brit was there until this very moment. At this point, he felt somehow embarrassed but also thrilled at the same time.

“Darling. You’d be able to kill a man when drunk. Aren’t ya?” you tilted your head to the Brit with a devilish smile. Simon only sighed, and your smile grew. “See! And I can tattoo then.” You laughed, turning your attention back to the Scot, who by now started to let his thumbs stroke over your waist, drawing lazy circles into the fabric of your top. “What you’re saying, love?” your mischievous smile aimed at him as your eyes pierced into his.

“Fuck it. Let’s dae it,” he said. The alcohol running through his veins was the main reason he agreed, but how could he deny you, when you were so beautifully seated above him. Hands stroking a long his neck and hairline what sent shivers down his spine. His mind was hazy, and he didn’t care for any consequences.

“That’s my boy!” You laughed while slowly standing up. “Benefits of living just above the studio.” You reached for the keys to the studio and signaled the men to follow you. Just a few minutes later you found yourself in the studio downstairs, everything prepared for this very spontaneous and somehow dumb idea. If you’d be sober, you’d never agreed on it. Giving a tattoo to a drunken person is indeed very unreasonable. The body tend to bleed way more with alcohol rushing through it. Quite apart from being drunk yourself. But who said that you made wise decisions in the whole process?

Johnny was positioned on his stomach on the flat bad. His shirt gone once more, and his pants awkwardly pulled down to reveal the required spot. Simon was seated next to you, as you started to draw a tramp stamp freehand on his lower back. For this part you ditched the glove and Johnny couldn’t be happier about it. At the same time, he found himself in quite the misery. This tattoo session giving him a literal hard time, while Simon talked with you the whole time and Johnny only felt your delicate skin onto him. Simon laughed from time to time about the design or the muffled groans the Scot let out. Johnny was certain that Simon did fairly well know about his misery.

In your current state the tattoo took way longer than it would usually have been. But you didn’t mind. The delicious view in front of you made it easier to pull through. And now while your mind was flooded with those inappropriate thoughts, you couldn’t suppress the longing the Scot caused deep in your heart.

“What’d you think, Si?” you placed the tattoo gun down and looked at the artwork, wiping the excess ink away. It wasn’t your masterpiece, but you were more than satisfied.

“Bloody ‘ell. ‘s perfect.” Simon laughed, while looking at the lower back of the Scot.

“Lemme see.” Johnny carefully stood up and walked over the mirror. You haven’t talked about a design, he trusted you to just do your thing and the face he just wore made it so worthy. Even if he would’ve been pissed seeing it. “Haud yer wheesht!” Johnny stood in front of the mirror and looked over his shoulder to see a squiggly tribal leading to the center of nothing else than a unicorn.

“You don’t like it?” you walked up to him, standing just in front of him as he faced you again. There was no regret in his face, only a smile on his lips before he started to laugh wholeheartedly. He pulled you close to his chest as he kept laughing and you just joined him. Placing your hand gentle on his bare back as you started to giggle yourself. It felt way too comfortable.

“Wait a damn minute.” It was Simon who interrupted the scenery. Pulling you a bit away from him. Not forcefully, not to cause any harm. He looked stunned at the chest of the Scot, while his hand was still placed on your shoulder from his earlier action. “Ya fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” he said with disbelief in his voice staring at the three familiar icons on the bare chest in front of him.

Johnny only smiled at him. “Surprise.” His hands stayed at your hips, as all of you three started to laugh at the situation. One of your hands pulling at Simon’s shirt what led to a tight hug shared between the three of you.

Time passed and you haven’t heard of one of them in the next months. You were used to it through your friendship with Simon. But now it was different. It bugged you more than before. Of course, you always did kind of worry for the man, but now there were two men you struggled about. You needed to fight the internal urge to shoot him a message. Asking if he’d be fine and safe, but you didn’t. Not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of him.

It already turned fall when and you started to decorate the studio. The whole place screamed Halloween now, but it wasn’t enough. One of your favorite seasons and it needed to be celebrated right. It was already quite late as you received a text that your appointment for tomorrow cancelled due to sickness. You hated last minute cancellations because you wouldn’t find any replacement. But this time it was somehow fine. The last days were so stuffed full that you could actually look forward to a day off. So, you made plans to go shopping for even more decorations. Enjoying a day off just for yourself. Well, that was your actual plan. A plan that got thrown over as soon as you noticed a familiar face walking through the front door. You turned around and greeted him with a bright smile. Relieve settling in your bones to see him again. He walked strictly up to you and only stopped a few centimeters away. “Johnny.” Before you could even say anything more, he pulled you close to his chest, and you completely engulfed in his embrace. He buried his head into the crook of your neck, as your hands found his back. Drawing lazy circles on his back.

You didn’t know how long you stood there. You didn't know how long until you spoke again. “I can make you some tea and we can talk. If you want to,” you offered with a soft voice, your hand still caressing his back through the thick layers of his jacket.

“Need something stronger.” Was his only response. So, you closed the store and brought him upstairs. He instantly sank down on your couch as you grabbed the bottle of whiskey and purred him a glass. “Thanks, bonnie,” he said calm while taking the glass. You sat next to him; your eyes filled with concern. The usual smile washed away from his face.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Johnny,” you literally begged him. Your hands finding his thigh, what made him look at you. His eyes were still the same azure ones you fell for, but somehow, they looked pale. He looked drained and tired.

He leaned closer to you, until his forehead was resting against yours. Eyes closed, while his hand found the back of your head. “I was scared…” His voice just above a whisper. A quiet confession. “so fuckin’ scared…that I wouldn’t be able to see you again.” His fingers stroked through your hair as you closed your eyes. Trying to suppress the sudden burn you felt in your eyes. His honesty broke your mind and the sheer thought of not being able to reunite with him anymore, it broke your heart. But he was here with you. He was safe with you. Still, you were only friends. You shouldn’t feel those things for your friend.

“I am here, Johnny.” Your voice was soft as your palms found his chest. “I am not going anywhere.” You added a little reassuring tone before he pulled his head only a centimeter away from yours. His blue eyes somewhat brighter than before, staring in yours. You melted right there as his other hand discarded the glass to reach out to your cheek. Your eyes were glued onto the gaze he gifted you. His eyes filled with adoration as the corner of his lips slightly tugged up again.

“Please…” His thumb stroked over your cheek before it took a gentle grip of your jawline. “Let me kiss you.” His glance darted between your lips and your eyes, waiting for your response with anticipation. The slight movement of your head giving him permission was the only thing he needed. Instantly closing the gap between you, as his lips brushed over yours. Gentle and soft, and still you could feel how he held back. The hand on the back of your head pulling you closer. Your hands found his neck as your melted into his touch. You broke away for a second looking into his eyes once more. They were blown with lust and endearment. No way you could retreat anymore.

“Johnny…” Your voice was soft as you pulled him back. You slowly leaned down on the couch and he immediately followed you, hovering just above you. “I am not a person for a one-night stand.” Your voice cracked a bit, but the smile on the Scots face reassured you instantly.

“Who said I’d leave ye.” He connected your lips once more. More eagerly, more lust filled, and you followed his lead. Taking a tight grip onto his neck. If you thought he was hard in the drunken state a few months ago, you were wrong. Nothing compared to the need he felt right now, growing every second as his kisses grew sloppier. Openmouthed wandering down to your neck. A moan left your throat as his teeth gently sank into the soft flesh of your neck. You could feel how everything in you screamed to take him. To feel him.

He leaned back to pull his shirt over his head, revealing his perfect shaped body. A body you had seen so many times before during his appointments, but now everything felt different. He played with the hem of your shirt before he helped you strip out of it. “Like a goddess,” he praised while his calloused hands roamed down your body. Followed by passionate kisses and gently nibbles down to the waistband of your pants. “Let me taste ye hen,” he plead while toying with the hem of your pants.

“Go on, love.” Your voice was filled with so much adoration, it sent electric jolts through his body. He started to fidget with your trousers to free you. Just as your pants landed on the floor, you could feel the cold breeze brushing against the hot spot between your legs. His finger carefully brushing over it. Your panties already soaked, what made him groan with anticipation.

“’st tell me when something feels wrong,” he said soft before pushing the black lace aside to let his mouth take care of your cunt. As soon as he let his tongue slid through your folds you already arched your back. Another groan was heard as his hand took grip of your hips. He ate like a man starved, while you cried out his name. Johnny had to pull himself together not to cum right there as he tasted you. Everything in him screamed to let go. He couldn’t wait any longer. Not when you were so pretty spread only for him. He stood up, liking over his lips as you looked at him. Your chest heaving. “Cannae wait any longer. ‘m sorry, pet.” He unbuckled his belt and discarded his trousers, followed by his briefs. It made his hardened member jump against his stomach. You parted your lips at the sight. He was an average man, but still shaped like an image out of your wildest dreams. He climbed back on the couch to hover over you. Leaning on one arm, the free one was between your bodies. His hand guiding his cock along your folds. Your hand found his back as your eyes locked again.

“The impatient man you are, John MacTavish.” Your smile enlightened the passion within him even more, as he let the tip slid through your entry. Teasing you with a mischievous smile. Your nails digging into his back as your breath got caught in your throat. “Johnny…” You whined into his mouth while he kept it occupied with his heated kisses.

“Who’s the one impatient now, mo ghraidh?” His smug grin only grew as his lips caught yours in another kiss as he pushed himself inside. You cried out while he gave you some time to adjust. He ditched everything, the prep, the foreplay, he needed you right now and for the loving woman you’re, you couldn’t even try to protest, as it already made you feel that good. You wanted to be good for him, and only him.

“Takin’ me so good,” he praised while pushing deeper in. Feeling your plushy walls around his length already sent him into an abyss. It took him a bit longer to fully button out, letting you adjust to his seize. Showering you with more praise and kisses. As your body started to relax more he started to move. Rolling his hips against yours, letting him slip out and in again. “Hells bells…,” he cried out as he thrusted into your tight hole. His hands holding you tight against him. His forehead pressed to your temple.

Both of you knew you wouldn’t last long. The longing, the desire that grew over the time so huge that it became unbearable anymore. But he promised you that it wouldn’t be just a casual fling. He promised to stay. All the pent-up emotions leading you to the edge so soon. “I’m so close.” He didn’t slow down at your words. Rather pushing his pace up as he felt your walls pulsating.

“I ken.” He kissed your forehead, as your nails dig deeper into the skin of his back. “’st let go, for me.” He assured you while he pulled himself together. Your hands forcing him impossible closer to you as you felt your walls clenching around him as he rocked against that spongy spot inside you. You nodded fast as you buried your head into the crook of his neck, while he pushed his body weight onto you. Kissing your temple as he went deeper and slower. Rolling his hips to keep pushing at that same spot.

The heat building up as it felt unbearable anymore. He pushed you over the edge and you could feel how his length started to twitch inside. You only nodded before he could even ask, while your head stayed pressed against his shoulder. Your orgasm washing over you so hard, that tears started to form in the corner of your eyes. Completely clouding your mind. Somehow, you had to compensate the overwhelming sensation, so your teeth found his neck and you bit in his flesh as he painted your walls white. A deep groan leaving his throat as he rode out his high. You only loosened your jaw as your tongue could sense the taste of iron. You fell back as he collapsed on top of you. He placed another kiss onto your temple. “Dae so good for me, mo ghraidh,” he cooed while your hands clung to his back.

“Will you stay?” your voice was low, brushing over his skin. Somehow scared that this wasn’t real. That his promise wasn’t real. That he wasn’t serious. Even if you knew deep down that those eyes couldn’t lie. And even if they did, you were too addicted of him, you would just accept it that way.

“Inside ye?” The smug grin that reached his eyes was finally back on his lips as he propped himself up a bit. You punched him playfully.

“No, you idiot. In general.” You looked into his now softened eyes. He placed another kiss onto your lips. He slowly pulled out and gently stroked some damp hair from your forehead away. He didn’t need to answer that. Actions were louder than words. He made sure you took a relaxing bath together and afterwards just cuddled up in your bed.

“I’m nae goin’ anywhere.” He kissed your temple while pulling you in his chest. Spooning you and you just curled yourself up, clinging to the strong arm around you. Already on the way to drift away with him being all around you. You couldn’t even wish him sweet dreams anymore.

The next morning felt unreal. As you woke up you found the side next to you already empty. A sigh left your throat as you walked into the living room. After your actions of last night, you slept in nothing more than a fresh pair of panties and his shirt. You stopped in front of the mirror in the hallway to your living room. It looked hilarious how big his shirt was on you. A smile crept on your face as you noticed a low humming.

“Mornin’ bonnie.” Johnny came out of the bathroom, instantly pulling you close to him again. He only wore his briefs. A sight you never wanted to miss anymore. His tattoos by now perfectly healed.

Suddenly something different caught your interest. “I am sorry.” Your eyes wandered to the mark you left on his neck. It was slightly bruised, and you could clearly see an imprint of your teeth. Johnny looked at you and then at himself in the mirror. Examining the spot on his neck and a smile crept on his lips.

“Dinnea need to.” He turned to you, pulling you close to him once more. “Tattoo it.” His words rolled so easily over his lips. You blinked at him in confusion. “’m nae jokin’.”

“Johnny… that’s…a confession…quite possessive”. You tried to find the right words which was hard. You didn’t even know what you actually were, and he wanted you to tattoo your bite mark onto him. Maybe it was like a kink to him? Maybe he was just that cocky. But he didn’t give you space to let your mind wander any more.

“That’s the whole fuckin’ point.” He placed a kiss onto your forehead. “I want the whole world to see who I belong to.” Your heart skipped a beat at his words. It was his way to show you, that this indeed wasn’t just a one-night stand. A love drunken smile crept on your face.

“You’ll regret it sooner or later.” You stated while your fingers brushed over the mark.

“But what if…” He placed a kiss onto your head. “…what if I dinnea.” He smiled at you, watching how your eyes scanned the spot.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I am yer eejit.” He corrected you without hesitation. “If ye let me though.”

You pushed your face into his chest, and he wrapped his beefy arms around you. “Let’s get some breakfast first.” Your voice nothing more than a mumble against his chest, which vibrated due to his laugh, nodding before following you into the kitchen.

Did Johnny spend his whole time on leave at your place in London? Eventually. Just as he got a text from his Captain he left with a sad look in his face, but he promised to return safe. He now had a reason to return. Was the time on operations harder? Not really. You worried as much as before, but now you were officially allowed to text him or Simon to look after each other. Did he get teased by Gaz for the new tattoo found at his neck more than the tramp stamp? Equally Simon would say. But Johnny didn’t mind because both held a unique and deep meaning in his heart. Just like his love for his home country shown through the boar on his upper arm, with what he also had the connection to his family on him. Just like the tattoo symbolizing his teammates, his second family, just above the spot where his heart pumped in his chest. And for every man that would mock him for the tamp stramp he’d flash them in the gym, he only smiled wide, giving them a wink. Knowing that this tattoo marked the start of one of the best things happening in his life. An evening with two of the most important people to him. An evening that he’d forever cherish.

At this point John MacTavish was sure that he was done with getting tattoos. He had the things that were most important to him now immortalized onto his skin. But sometimes this man was in the very wrong. Because about two years later, he found himself once more surrounded by the buzzing of a tattoo gun. Two years that were spent in the fields with his team to make the world a better place. Just to return into your arms at the end of the day. In those two years he never regretted any line you placed onto his body. And he never would regret the fifths tattoo he was just about to get. It was different than the times before.

He was surrounded by his teammates, and your closest friends. Really just the closest of the inner circle. Keeping it as discreet as possible. The big day with everyone would be postponed to another date. But as always, Johnny wasn’t a patient man, so he wanted to have something beforehand. Something just for both of you before he had to go save the world again. That way he wore a casual decent but still traditional fit. The red and blue of his family’s tartan painted his kilt. The same tartan the scarf had you wore around your shoulders. A decent dress below, as you let the needles sink into his skin once more. His hand in yours as you tattooed a simple line around his ring finger. A similar one you already had on your hand. The first and only tattoo the Scot would ever give someone was now around your finger.

Just as you finished you kissed once more, while smiling at each other like the love drunken birds you were, as everyone around you clapped and cheered at you. Your studio filled with so much love and joy like never before. A moment you will always look back to in awe.

“I told ye, MacTavish would suit ye.” He teased while holding you close. His words nearly drowning between the noises of your friends and family.

You punched him playfully against his chest. “I love you too, eejit.”

“Don’t they have to say like I do or anything like that,” Kyle mumbled over to Simon, who just shrugged but smiled at the couple, now husband and wife, in front of him.

Even if you were glad that all the important ones were here around you, in the end only on person mattered to you. And that was the man holding you close in his embrace as he leaned his forehead against yours like he did millions of times before. Every night wondering if he’s alright. Every day waiting for his return. Every nightmare you endured. Everything was so worthy, just to have him close next to you and see him smile down at you. And everything started with a tattoo he never even wanted in the first place. A tattoo that led to four more. A tattoo that gave him a life with you by his side, because from the moment he met you, you went under his skin and there was no way he could ever escape it. Not that he even wanted to.

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