#its tighter now come onnnn

[lucrativesoul]

Espionage

summary: working in an underground crime syndicate, your job gets risky, but, the more risk, the more reward. you jumped the gun on your thievery through an art museum, and come across one certain guard who is adamant on stopping you in your path.

pairing: guard!leon kennedy x female reader

word count: 11.5k

warnings: smut, fingering, choking, slight degradation, dom leon

a/n: yall know i had to do one with tactical gear leon i mean come onnnn look at him!!! (patrick voice) i went a little wild with this one LOL i really thought it was gonna be my shortest work yet and here we are. the plot of this was inspired by Death Prefers Blondes by Caleb Roehrig! if you guys liked the idea of our mc's job here, i suggest you check out that book, its a really great young adult read! i had so much fun with this one, i really hope i didn't keep you guys waiting. i hope you enjoy, thank you endlessly for the support, and I will see you soon :)

Taking a deep sigh, you reclined yourself back as far as you could in the stiff chair, which wasn’t much. The light above you was flickering, to your annoyance, but you kept quiet about it, focusing instead on the rapid typing on the keyboard from the man in front of you. The room was cold, and you pulled your sweatshirt tighter around you. You knew to come prepared this time.

You hoped you would get out of here before the traffic rush. You hated having to come all the way out here, but, after all, it was your job.

To explain how you came into this would take too long, as you tell everyone, so simply put: Some connections in your life led to other connections, and those connections allowed you to quit your two part time jobs and become a full time criminal. Literally.

You met this man, Carlos, at the gym where you liked to spar with some of the trainers when they weren’t in sessions. Simulating a fight was not something you had expected to find a lot of entertainment in, but when you got up there in front of someone and were forced to defend yourself with blocks and punches and kicks, it introduced a whole new adrenaline into your world. Keeping up with your physical shape had definitely aided in your ability to be nimble, and your history of (attempted) gym consistency helped build muscle. 

Carlos had pulled you aside after a sparring session with another trainer, impressed by your moves, and had told you he wants to see you put it to the real test. He offered you a spot in the gym he frequented (which was, to your horror at first, the sketchiest building you had ever seen in your life from the outside), paired you with a trainer who wasn’t afraid to throw real punches, and before you knew it, you could fight an array of builds and heights. 

From there, you kept talking to people who knew people who knew Carlos, and he weaseled you into his line of work where he trusted you to go on the scene of whatever was the target, and sold all of your loot. He was your fence, you were his robber. Quite simply.

A real threat of danger hung over your head on every job, and you knew this well enough. There was always the chance of getting caught, considering every location had guards 24/7. There was always a chance you could get hurt; fall from a high location, the failure of equipment, get shot for fucks sake, but you loved the adrenaline it gave you. You felt on top of the world, and in the back of your mind, you knew this would surely be considered an addiction, but you didn’t care. Every new job upped the ante, and you needed more.

The second deep breath you took expanded your lungs, the stretch feeling good after not moving for several minutes now. You rolled your head side to side, hearing the crack, and turned your attention back to Carlos, who finally started talking again.

“I have buyers in Europe lined up for these.” He looked down at the desk, an array of shiny stones and metals bent in intricate shapes and chains laid out in front of him. Courtesy of yours truly. “A few are interested in the same piece, but they can argue with themselves, I’m only going to sell it to them, I’m not the mediator.” He sighed and pushed back in his rolling chair, pulling open a file cabinet and a manila folder.

“Where in Europe? Can we hand deliver?” You couldn’t help but grin slightly, and Carlos didn’t have to look up from his papers to know you were.

He shrugged. “If you want to risk receiving a chest cavity the size of a gold ball, knock yourself out.” He knew you were joking, and you knew the rules well enough. Knowing who your buyers were, and going within any sort of vicinity of them while knowing their identity was strictly off limits. He turned his head towards his computer again. “Venice. Nice.” He turned towards you. “Budapest. The usual.”

You nodded. You were expecting some sort of answer along the lines of that, so it wasn't too much of a surprise to you. Oh, how it would be nice to be in Europe, though.

“Here’s the deal.” Carlos put the folder of papers down in front of you, and you lazily scanned it, knowing that most of it was going to look like gibberish anyways. Carlos was the man in between here, you simply stole things. You didn’t deal with the numbers and the logistics. “The man who is in the battle for our largest emerald is willing to step aside and let our Venetian buyer take the cake, because he reached out with another job that he and only he wants to be in the running for.”

You scoffed. “Dude must be loaded then. A solo job?”

Carlos cocked an eyebrow. “He gave me parameters for the job, and I almost turned him down without even running it by you, to be honest.”

You sat up straight. “The fuck, Carlos? Give it to me, I can take it.”

He sighed and slouched back in his chair. You were honestly surprised that Carlos was not the one in your spot. He was insanely built and could easily take down four armed guards at once, but you never found out why he chose to be behind the scenes. At least you knew he trusted you enough not to put you in anything that would be instant death.

“There’s apparently an heirloom to this guy’s lineage sitting in a chamber room of the gallery downtown. He’s been trying to find a means to reach it and claim it back for years, but, according to him, the museum won’t budge on letting him anywhere near a buying price.”

You let his words sink in. “What’s so bad about that?”

Carlos sighed again. “It’s an art gallery.” He stared at you, waiting for you to get the point. “They have armed guards posted day in and day out. Alarms at every possible entrance and cameras watching every square inch of the place. It’s just not feasible.”

You shook your head. “Carlos, come on. I know you have access to the technical means that we need to do our surveillance. We can watch their route. We can track who does what nights and who might be the easiest to take down. I did that at the villa two weeks ago.” 

“Yes, and you nearly lost your life. I was shooting myself in the foot for putting you out there.”

You shook your head again. Part of you was thankful that Carlos had the decency to regret his decision of accepting that job, and feeling remorse once you reported back that one of the bodyguards had you in a near death chokehold before you managed to, by luck, weasel free. Even you were still haunted by that. But you would never let it slow you down, and would never tell Carlos, as he would surely put you in safer locations. Which meant less fun.

“I’m just saying, now that it’s been done, I can do it again. And be careful about it this time. I want to do this Carlos, I believe I can.”

Carlos was silent for a moment, thinking over your words. He sighed.

“I want our people staking out on the perimeter the whole time. I don’t want to hear objections. There will be a team this time, this is not just somebody’s home. This is government and city property, if you don’t die, you and I are as good as dead in the prison system.”

You quirked a small smile. “Come on Carlos.” He lazily held eye contact. “You think I’d rat you out like that?”

He sighed and rolled his eyes, but you could tell he was fighting the urge to smile as well. “Be back here tomorrow at 12. We’ll start our prep.”

–

You, Carlos, and two other men were huddled around a plethora of screens deep in the trenches of Carlos’ office. One of the monitors had split screen CCTV surveillance, six cameras watching the main galleries and two hallways, one was a datamine of the encrypted content regarding the people employed to stand guard at the museum, and the others were floor plans of each floor and wing of the gallery.

The size of the place didn’t scare you, in fact, it only brought more excitement to your job. As soon as Carlos brought up the blueprints and started mapping escape routes and how to avoid camera sightings, you memorized it instantly. This would be a breeze.

“Here’s who we need to look out for.” He drew up a site that had profiles of each of the seven guards that do night duty. Their employee photos looked like mugshots. “These three guys guard the east wing, these two rotate between west wing and foyer since that is the smallest wing and closer to the entrance, and these two are usually staked out by the rear gallery.”

“You seem to already have this down, Carlos.” You mumbled.

He snickered from in front of you. “I’ve been watching already.”

You sighed through your nose. “Going to turn down this job my ass.”

“We’re expecting these two to be in the west wing the night of the heist. I’ve been watching, and they tend to rotate, but there’s a pattern. I’m sure it will be them.” You nodded, listening closely to his words. Carlos might be a pain in the ass sometimes, but you knew he didn’t mess around with ensuring the best possible route. “One stands in the wing while the other stands in the foyer. They rotate at the same time, so there is a small window when no one is watching the far end of the gallery.”

“How am I getting in there? Hanging out overnight?” It was a partial joke, but you never knew with this team. 

Carlos shook his head, and diverted everyone’s attention to an isolated map, similar to the layout of the floor plan. “This is the duct system.” You stifled a laugh. You should have expected this. “Big enough for a person like you. The duct room is locked whenever no one is accessing them, and the only people that do are the janitorial team, and Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday are the only times they are sweeping the building.”

“Literally, sweeping.” 

Carlos sighed heavily at your remark. “The system that is connected to the electronic lock is also connected to what controls the cameras and the lights. I can get you in there, but only in a very small window of time. It needs to be during the day.”

“The day.” You echoed. “So, I’ll be camped out in there for a while, then?”

Carlos nodded. You knew what you were about to get yourself into. It came with the job description, and before the job actually launched into action, you knew that familiar feeling of anxiety blossoming in your chest. You had been in the gym consistently, trying to find someone to mock a chokehold with you in the case that it happened all over again. If it did, you decided Carlos didn't need to find out.

You knew you were physically ready. The odds of going against a huge man didn't look great from the outside, but you were flexible, and fast, and if you could bounce around their sights, you could steer clear of any sort of altercations.

“Yes, you’ll be in there for a while. It’s the only way.” You nodded again. You knew there was no such thing as comfort in this line of work. If you get too comfortable, you might as well get ready to be comfortable in a jail cell, or in the afterlife. “We move in Thursday night. Just to be sure that the cleaning happens Wednesday and we won't get any surprises. You’ll enter at 4 PM. I’ll be watching all morning to decide what you should wear to make the least waves possible and so you can disappear when they close at 6. Regular day employees stay until 7:30, then the guards move in, but we can’t make our moves until well after sunset.” Carlos was looking mostly at you, as the other teammates he rounded up were just going to stake out the perimeter. “You know the prep. Make sure you last while you wait.”

–

You spent the next week in the office watching everyone’s moves. The guards followed a monotonous routine in which areas they patrolled. Odd, considering they might want to watch for corners where people could stay hidden. 

They all stuck to their schedules, no employee stayed later than an hour and a half after closing, guards immediately did a sweep of the whole building for the lame thieves who attempted to hide in bathrooms, before they stuck to their positions, and that’s where they stayed for the night, until 5 AM. You were positive you had this down now, there was no way you could be wrong.

There was, of course, but you preferred to pretend otherwise.

The guards rotated as predicted, and with every step they took every passing day you grew more confident in this job. That person who was commissioning this should be well willing to tip generously considering the amount of prep taking place.

You swallowed the lump of anxious nerves, pushing yourself into your work mindset as you sat outside the museum, the breeze cooling down your heated skin. Carlos had been keeping watch of the patrons since opening, and he concluded the appropriate outfit for you to don would be a tan hoodie, light wash jeans, and you didn’t have many options in the way for shoes, a simple pair of white sneakers having to do the trick. You knew they would be watching at the door, a metal detector as well as bag checks were mandatory, so you couldn’t risk a bag, but you had all you needed strapped underneath your clothes to your second skin layer– a skintight bodysuit, equipped with maximum breathability and flexibility– and all of your weapons holstered as close as they could get.

With nothing else except your phone (which was off) and wallet (with a fake ID), you walked up the steps, blending in with the bustle, but knowing well enough to not look too suspicious. You knew the rest of your team was around the perimeter, out of your view, and you were going to hear from Carlos for the first time when it was necessary for you to hide. He was never on location, he was seated safely in his office, every screen lit up with hacked CCTV footage and an in-ear device to communicate directly to you.

You took yet another deep breath in. You got this. You had to.

You knew you had time to kill while you waited to hear from Carlos. It couldn’t be right away, that would look too unnatural if you made a beeline past too many priceless works of art. So, not begrudgingly, you strolled through the galleries, admiring the timeless art, feeling inspired, excited, the sun streaming in through the glass ceilings of some of the halls.

It was mostly quiet, the murmur of people surrounding you, discussing what they were looking at, the occasional kid running by. As much of an admirer you were, you could feel the adrenaline coursing through your arms and hands, dying to get started. But, as Carlos taught you well, patience was a virtue, and if you rushed things, it could get bad, and fast.

After a lap, which lasted close to an hour, you sat on a bench in the west wing. You knew this was close to where you needed to be, and it would be easier to stay close in case the window of opportunity arose when you weren’t expecting it, which was typical. 

You toyed around with a pamphlet you had picked up near the entrance, still keeping an eye out for any employee, or any guard, which would be out of place at this time. It was nearing 5:30 now, and they were going to be closing in 30 minutes. Your heart rate quickened at that thought, knowing they were going to be sending employees to do loops and tell people their time was being cut short. You slowly straightened your posture, trying not to look too alert, trying to calm down–

“--in, come in. Connected to base, CCTV footage overrode, stations manned.” You heard Carlos’ crackly voice through your in-ear, and you slumped backward, relieved.

“Copy.” You kept your voice low and mouth movements to a minimum. “I assume you know where I’m at.”

“Bench in the back left of the west wing. The duct room is also being watched. It has been looking clear for the last ten minutes, give me another five to make sure, then I will give you instructions.”

You gave a slight nod, knowing he could see you. You kept up your previous charades, reading the same script for the fifth time on the pamphlet, people watching, and employee watching. The next five minutes took way too long.

“Get up slowly and walk along the wall to the left. Someone is coming down the hallway telling people there is 20 minutes to closing. Let him pass you, acknowledge what he said, and let him get about 20 feet ahead.” You shifted in your seat, pushing yourself up. Taking another look at the paintings hung on the walls, you realized as you approached– this was the one you were meant to take. You were so tempted to stand here and look at it, but you didn’t want to draw a suspicious coincidence in the mind of the employee who would see you standing in front of it. One glance later, and you moved on.

“Excuse me,” A soft voice spoke from behind you. You turned around, and acted surprised. A short man with dark hair had a friendly smile on. “The gallery will be closing in 20 minutes, just a heads up.” You nodded a thank you, and promised to move on swiftly.

“Ten seconds, then when you walk through the aisle in between the columns, there’s a hallway to the left. You’ll have a really small window to duck into the door on the left side and wait while I override the door code.”

“Code?!” You whisper-shouted, taking care to keep your voice low. “This should have been something you told me earlier.” 

“Don’t worry, I have access to it and can let you in. It will only take one more second, but you have to be quick with this door, you know that.” You sighed, knowing he was right. Your steps were quiet, but firm, and you caught sight of the small hallway he was talking about. “There’s no one behind you, but we can’t guarantee that’s permanent.” Oh, yes, you knew that was the truth. You wanted to turn around, but fought against it, not wanting to catch anyone’s eye.

Step, breath, step… “Go, now, hurry.” You careened quickly to the left into the hallway, knowing anyone would notice you if they walked by. “Two seconds…” Carlos configured the software to the door’s electronic lock as you approached and stood there, heart hammering. You pulled your sleeve over your hand. You heard the click. “You’re in, move.” You pushed down on the door handle with your sleeved hand and creeped into the room, wasting no time in shutting the door. You waited for the command before you moved. “You made it blindly. No one noticed you.” You sighed gently. “To your left, there's a switch. Flip the one in the middle. It’s the nightlight.”

You did as told, relaxing slightly now that you could see. The room looked exactly as expected. It was more of a closet, really. There was an electric panel on the wall opposite the door, a rack of cleaning supplies to the right, and in the left corner across from you, a large duct sock extending from a fixture that was taller than you. You had no idea where it led to, as it disappeared up into the ceiling, but you had a feeling that’s where you were destined to spend the next handful of hours.

You took your time inspecting the room, knowing there was going to be nothing quick about this next step. Behind the large fixture that filtered the air and sent it through the duct, there was a small passageway blocked by a vent grate. Carlos had told you vis in-ear to unscrew the large grate and tuck yourself in there. At least it was right next to the cooling system, and you could shed some layers. It would get hot, and quickly, in there.

Time ticked by slower than ever as you were stretched out in the vent, now loose from your jeans and sweatshirt. Your bodysuit was keeping you cool, and you managed your breathing whenever you remembered so you would be able to keep your core temperature as stable as possible. You ran over the plan once, twice, a thousand times, and maybe even drifted off once or twice, by the time you heard Carlos’ voice again, sounding angelic after all this time.

“Hey, you awake in there?” His soft, crackled voice sounded through your brain.

“As ever. What’s the time?” You whispered back, shocked at how far the smallest vocal sound carried through the metal tube.

“Close to 11PM. We have to get moving soon.” You nodded, knowing he couldn’t see you.

“Can I push this thing open? Can someone hear me from here?”

“Give me two seconds, I need to make sure I can disable central control of the cameras so no one else watching security can see. We don’t need any unnecessary backup here.” You let Carlos do his thing from base, and tried your best to stretch your limbs getting ready to move. “Okay, this will take a few minutes, but in thirty seconds, the rotation from west wing to foyer is going to start. Countdown, then crawl out as carefully as possible.”

Breathing steadily, countdown rapidly ticking in your head, you started at thirty, gripping the grate as much as you could once you hit one, and pushed outwards. You had managed to click the metal back in place behind you once you crawled in, but it wasn’t the most subtle sound. Now, it counted even more that it was timed right.

With a solid shove and a louder than you expected click (and a wince), and shimmied your way out of the vent, placing the metal onto the ground with the slowness of a turtle. You had no idea if anyone was going to open the door to this right now, so you just had to trust that the silence from Carlos meant that nothing was about to go wrong.

You stood up, sighing deeply when you could finally stretch out before getting to move for the first time in nearly 6 hours. The spandex of your bodysuit contoured with your body, and you felt unrestrained as you stretched out, ready to be as light on your feet as possible. There was a small holster on your thigh, where a retractable baton was strapped in tight, and one around your waist, holding onto three tiny knives– stainless steel– the closest thing that would get you through the detectors without being flagged. Fingers crossed they wouldn't need to be used.

“The rotation just finished, so in about ten more minutes, our window will open for you to come out and stay hidden. Remember where all the sculptures are layed out?”

“Yeah, I do.” You continued to stretch through Carlos’ words. “I’m ducking out of here at your command, softly shutting the door. I come quietly to the opening of the hallway and duck out to the right, hide behind a column and stay low.” You recited again, and heard Carlos give a hum of approval. 

“Just hang tight for now, I’ll let you know when you need to start moving. Security override is almost done. Remember, they’re gonna try and reboot the system immediately, which will take another minimum five minutes, max ten. Be light on your feet, move fast.”

You steadied your breathing once again, flexing everything in your body to make sure you were adequately stretched out and ready for action. You had never felt more so. 

“Exit the room in twenty seconds. Start counting.”

You pounced on your feet at the sound of Carlos’ voice after a few minutes, gloves on your hands (which had also been hidden in a pocket of the bodysuit), and gripped the handle, counting just to the pace you had been trained to.

“Move.”

You and Carlos reached the countdown at the same time, and you pressed the metal handle down and inched the door open, swiftly, but not enough to cause the hinges to make noise. You slithered out, and once you had the door shut again without a sound, you dropped down onto your knees, walking in a crouch to the entrance of the gallery.

You were hidden immediately by a column. You peeked out, knowing there wouldn’t be a guard in the aisle but checking anyway, and waddled over to the next column, feeling your heart rate increase with every step. Peeking around, you spotted the guard, who was walking slowly towards the middle of the west wing. He had his hands by his sides, gun holstered on his hip. Not much more than an average cop’s bulletproof vest on his body.

You waited for him to reach the center and do a lazy turn, back towards you, to run to the next column. Time was ticking, but as long as he stayed right where he was, you would be able to secure this artwork and disappear.

You reached the next column, and the next, all the while the guard was still turned, and you ducked back whenever he did a mandatory sweep of the area behind him. You could see the painting you needed from your current position. If Carlos had it under control, he could stifle the alarm system at the very second you used one of the knives to cut the cords and rip it from his ceiling holsters. You could tell on your first walk by this afternoon that it was nothing more than a heavy fishing wire, and it could be done soundlessly.

One more column, and you could see the guard from your hunched over position. You were pretty well hidden behind the column itself and a sculpture sat in front, and slightly to the left of it. You heard him sniffle, and shift his weight again before turning around, and crouch-running to the column that sat just to the right of the painting. This was it.

You had your head parked solidly right behind the column, watching the guard. He was still facing you, looking up at the ceiling, down all the obvious passageways, and then he turned. It was now or never.

You creeped forward, hand over the knife on your holster, ready to slice through the cord on the wall. You were waiting for Carlos’ sign that the alarms had been disabled. Nothing, but you had no time to wait. You had to try it.

You pulled the knife from the holster and pushed the blade out, gloved hand gripping the frame, and in two swift movements, the wires giving a slight shing with the cut, it was loose, no alarms, and you dropped back to the ground and ran.

Taking the same caution on the way back as you did on the way over, you stopped at columns to watch the guards, and by the tell-tale sign of him stalking forward once, you knew the rotation was about to happen.

You grew closer and closer back to the duct room; through the vents as your only way out. 

Taking the opportunity of no guard in the hall, you went as fast as you could in a crouch, seeing the opening for the hallway mere feet away. It was home free. Another job done.

Still in the clear, your heart hammering, you dove forward into the hallway, not wasting anymore time. You reached the hallway, turned the corner, and found yourself staring straight into the barrel of a gun.

Stopping short, nearly screaming out, you could only stare as you tried to identify the person behind it. You couldn’t move, your limbs were frozen in place. You could not hear Carlos, you didn’t even know if he saw you cut the line. He had the alarms disabled, clearly, but where was he? And who was this man?

You couldn’t see the bottom half of his face. Behind the large gun he had pointed at you, he had  a black neck gaiter covering from his nose down. His eyes were hard, eyebrows deeply furrowed, they looked blue in the dim light. His blonde hair was pushed off his forehead, stiff with gel. He was covered neck to feet in gear, a large, bulletproof vest and cargo pants, not another inch of skin showing. He was crouching to your height. Clearly, he knew you would be coming back here. What the fuck was going on?

He tilted his head in a mocking gesture at you, making fun of your momentary stupidity. You wanted to fight, but you knew better. If you drew attention now, you would be vastly overpowered very quickly. 

“Looking for an easy escape?” His voice was deep and husky, and for a moment you thought this was someone on your team. But no, they were told strictly to stay outside under all circumstances. This was not someone trying to help you. He was trying to capture you.

“Who are you?” You whispered, praying that Carlos was listening, feeling more panicked that you couldn’t hear him.

He shook his head. He was not in the mood to be courteous. “Go to the door behind me to my left. If you make noise, I’ll kill you. If you fight, I’ll kill you. Go,”

Your breath hitched, you could fight him with a knife, but with the barrel aimed straight for your brain, it was no use trying right now. You needed a plan, and quick. But for now, you had to obey.

Your legs felt like jelly as you stayed low and walked over to the door, the stranger backing up and keeping his gun trained on you the whole time. When you approached it, you stood up, looking back at him. He nudged his gun forward in a go in gesture, and with a deep breath, you quietly pushed the handle downwards and walked in.

This was not the duct room, which was the door on the other side of the hallway. Why had you not seen this door, why did Carlos also not seem to know about this door? When you walked in, you for real almost choked this time, it was the goddamn control room. The very one that Carlos had overridden to let you get into the museum after hours in the first place. Oh, you were fucked.

“You thought you had it all planned, huh? I’ve been sitting here this whole goddamn time watching you. I saw you walk in, I saw you sit down, I saw you go into the hallway, I was waiting for you.” Your stomach ran cold, not knowing what to do now. Carlos was MIA. He surely must be frantic. Was he going to send the team in?

You were staring straight ahead at the vast array of monitors, way more than Carlos had. Every inch of the museum was being watched. You saw the screen with the duct room hallway. It was in the rightmost corner. The control room door was hidden from this angle. This room had been scrubbed from blueprints. You would have seen it, you know it.

The chair in front of you was pushed out, most likely from this man standing up to meet you when you returned. A coat, issued with the museum’s logo, was draped over the chair. You could see a nametag pinned to the front. Leon S. Kennedy. That name did not sound familiar.

You squeaked out when the barrel of the gun hit you square in between the shoulder blades. “Your buddies can’t save you now, you know. Next time they try to do this, they’ll have to do more than just some book research.”

You took a steady breath, urging yourself to sound more collected than you felt. “Don’t act so high and mighty, Leon Kennedy.”

He scoffed. “Don’t act so fucking smart because you know how to read.” He used his gun once more to push your shoulder so you could spin around and face him. You could only stare as he maintained his composure. His eyes were not softening up. “Did you think you could be in and out with this one? Just like all the others?” You tried to fight it, but you felt your face scrunch in confusion. How does he know about the others? He made another sound, like a laugh, and you could almost see the outline of his cocky smile underneath his mask. “Don’t act like you stayed off of anyone’s radar. Your little fence isn’t exactly a low profile criminal in the underground market.” Your stomach sank. He knew about Carlos. He knew about the whole ring, he had been watching you! 

“This was… Is this even a real job?” You spat out, feeling more and more of a struggle to breathe. 

Finally, Leon put down his gun. He knew he had you under his fingers. He crossed one more step to get in your face, looking down at you. “Like I said… Your buddies need to be more careful with what they decide to take on.” He muttered at you.

Something clicked inside of you. It was a life or death situation, and there were no more good outcomes. With the swiftness of air, you shot your right hand up, connecting your fist with the side of Leon’s jaw. It caught him off guard, but it did no more than knock him back a couple of steps. That was a hard jaw.

You used those two seconds to your advantage as you sprung forward, using the chair behind you as leverage as you kicked into his chest with both feet, sending him flying backwards, knocking the gun loose from his grip. He almost fully lost his balance, and you rocketed forward, finishing him off and wanting to send him straight to the floor.

It seems, though, you underestimated how well trained this man might be. He never hit the floor, and from the second you sent him reeling backwards, he was already connecting the distance between you two again, and he ducked when you sent another leg flying at him. He hooked your other leg in his grip, turning you over and forcing you to fall to the floor on your back, effectively rendering your lungs useless.

You gasped for air, finding the strength to fight back, and before he could unlatch himself from the leg he had a grip on, you tightened your other around his throat, tucking his neck right under your knee, and you squeezed hard. 

Finding air again, and still keeping Leon in a chokehold, you pushed yourself up, and rolled the both of you over, so you were now essentially sitting on top of him, pushing his body into the ground as you kept him senseless. The dominance didn’t last long, as he pushed himself up, slamming you, once again, into the ground, loosening your leg, and escaping.

Your attempts at punches were meek, and he gripped both of your wrists in his hands and pinned them down; it was useless. It was over. During the altercation, most likely while he was being choked out, his gaiter slipped down, now wrapped around his neck. The rest of his features match the top half, and god dammit why did you have to make enemies with a man who looks like he should be on display in this very place?

“You should stop trying to fight me.” He grumbled from over you. You knew he had the upper hand now, definitely physically, but you weren’t going to stop.

“And just accept defeat? Accept whatever is going to happen next?” Despite knowing it would be useless, you attempted to break free from Leon’s grip anyway. It resulted in a tighter grasp around your wrists, and you winced. “What do you want from me? You set this up just to catch me. But you’re on the inside, too. You can’t nail us without incriminating yourself.”

If it was even possible, his face hardened further. He lowered his body to bring his face inches from yours, and you found yourself not turning away from his gaze. 

“Maybe that’s just not what I’m after.”

The sentence brought your mind to a complete blank. What else could he be after? If he was employed by the museum you were currently trying to steal a painting from and sell it for thousands, shouldn’t he want to take you down to protect the art? Wouldn’t he want to put you and your team in jail for the crimes you all have committed? 

“So, what? You just wanted to take me down? Try and make me fail? To prove something to yourself?” You were desperate at this point to hear something from Carlos, and the more time went by, you were sure Leon must have done something to the connection. Since he already knows… “Why can’t I hear my team?” You barked at him.

He quirked a cocky grin once again. “I don’t need you calling for unnecessary help. I’ve got it taken care of.” With one harsh movement, he adjusted both of your wrists so they were being held by his left hand. He then used his right to rip the in-ear out, making you cry out when the tape was torn from behind your ear. He kept tugging the cord until the tiny transmitter, which was clipped to the inside of your bodysuit, just below your shoulder, was out in the open, and tossed it aside. He was putting increasing pressure on your wrists, and you couldn't help but writhe.

“Let me go, I don’t get why you’re doing this.” You started a struggle again, but he shut it down swiftly. “Why me, Leon, why us? Surely we can’t be the only underground heist group within the vicinity, surely someone else must have tried to break in here.” 

Leon stared at you for a moment from his place above you. His expression gave nothing away about his thoughts, and it was aggravating you endlessly. He thought he was all that. You were pissed off, because you also felt like that was true. He did manage to fumble your route and tackle you and cut you off from comms. Asshole.

He lifted himself off of you slowly, and you felt the pressure around your wrists disappear. He was straddling you now, his large legs encapsulating you on both sides, his arms looked massive from this angle. His vest was littered with utility pouches, and you weren't sure you wanted to find out what was in them. The gaiter was slack around his neck, and you felt so tiny, submissive, and rapidly heating up under his half lidded gaze. You can’t believe you went over his employee profile. You would have remembered a face like his.

“You’re right. You are not alone in this ring of underground syndicates, frankly, not even the first to have been here. I took on a few of them. I’m not actively working to destroy the network that you work out of, I’m just doing my job. Why should I let thieves get away with it just because they’re good at what they do?” You stared at him as he spoke. You couldn't believe how much information he truly had, and how much more he would surely not reveal to you. “I didn’t care about the other bunch, they were all dirty criminals doing it for the money with no real talent and no morals, so, fuck them, I’ll bust them when they step into my territory.” He lowered himself again, and now he was holding himself above you, arms on either side of your head. He was staring straight down into your eyes. “But then you appeared on my radar. I was surprised to see a woman in this line of business. That’s not common. I had to watch you closely. Maybe my own ignorance made me think that you would be out of play quicker than you even started, but when I discovered you had taken down two men larger than me and turned around a chokehold that surely would have killed you, I couldn't help but be impressed.”

You couldn't stop the scoff that escaped your lips. “Fuck you. You don’t know what I’m capable of. I worked my way up to where I am now.” Your sentence was cut short when he placed a rough hand on your chin, holding it in his palm.

“Shut up.” You ground your jaw, holding back snarky comments that would put you in a worse position. His demeaning command twisted your stomach in an unfamiliar way. “When I noticed your skill, as you needed to throw in there before I finished, I saw a challenge. I couldn’t just let it go.”

No words came out of your mouth right away, still trying to process his. You shook your head in confusion. “Challenge?”

“I like a woman that can put up a fight.” Leon said nothing more, daring you to stay something in retaliation. You kept your mouth shut, unsure of what kind of response you should even give. You squinted your eyes at him, but he didn't falter.

“What kind of job even is this?” His grin grew. The anger and frustration mixed with something foreign in your stomach. You curled your toes instinctively at this feeling. “Setting me up for failure just to wrestle me so you can get a workout?”

He shook his head slightly, that glint in his eyes not fading. “It’s not all about me, you know. You’re my challenge right now, yes, but I see something in you. I want you on my side.”

“Your side? Are there sides to be had here?” 

“Sure there is,” His voice dropped to a low whisper now. You realized in that moment how quiet the room was. After the altercation the two of you had, you concluded it must be soundproof. There would have been a guard here by now. “You can fight. You're a spy. You’re practically invisible. That would be so useful to me. With me. I can give you that, you won’t have to worry about the inevitable end of this.”

You finally brought your hands down by your sides, and he didn’t move to stop you. “Here? You want to offer me the occasional chance of action from the museum?”

“You said it yourself.” His gaze hardened once more, and you suddenly remembered how harsh he was towards you five minutes ago. “I’m on the inside. I’m just as dirty as you guys are.” You stared, fighting the urge to gape your mouth. Someone on the inside, working right under everyone’s nose? “With me, I can make sure you’ll never face the threat of being shut down. Thrown in jail for years, for life. Carlos can’t do that.” You felt a twist at the mention of Carlos’ name, hoping he was alright.

You hated yourself for even letting that thought flick across your mind momentarily. You and Carlos were a team, he taught you everything, yes, but he had no other ‘ins’ in the world to protect you from the law. You were on your own in the field. He just directed you.

Leon had the connections. Leon worked with them. There was a chance that he really could keep you safe. 

“What’s…” You grit your teeth, and swallowed hard, hating this position. “What’s in it for me? I’d be losing what I worked for the last few years. Just to be under your belt now.”

He shook his head. “You’re not losing. You’re gaining.” He came dangerously close to your face, yet again, you didn't move away. “Trust me.” 

With nothing left to say to him, your body only had one way to react. You quickly hooked your left arm around Leon's neck, holding him in close, and using all the weight you could muster to flip positions with him. You could see in his face he was almost expecting this from you, yet he let it happen, and didn’t fight it. 

He let out a grunt as his back hit the ground, knowing his vest took most of the impact. You were now successfully above him, in between his spread legs, his arms splayed out on the sides. The arm that had been used as leverage around his neck was now holding you up, the other was poised threateningly at his collarbone, as if you were going to choke him at any second. 

But now, over him, though you felt triumph, you were at a loss for words again, still so muddled about the situation. Leon let the arrogant smile take over his features.

“We’d make a great pair, don’t you think?” 

A million emotions surged through your veins, making it even harder to focus, to find the right thing to say or do. The way he was looking up at you, those eyes, that face, you wanted to collapse and give it to what he was saying, but you would be damned if you gave in to any sort of manipulation from him. The job was already fucked. There was no money. It was a setup just to get you into his lair… for a lack of better word. He seemed to know the ins and outs of this building, yet, he was working underground for the same reasons, presumably, as you were. 

Fuck it, it doesn’t matter. There’s no job. You wouldn’t leave Carlos behind, but couldn’t you pretend?

Your hand gripped the collar of his shirt. “What’s the negotiation?” You mumbled. You tried your best to keep the intimidating look in your eye, but you were afraid Leon never even saw it in the first place.

He breathed out a small laugh. It infuriated you, but sent a chill down your spine. “Can’t we worry about the price later?”

You sighed, and pushed yourself off of him using his body to boost you. He grunted. On your knees now, you said, “You did all of this to get me to work with you and you won’t even tell me what your prices are?”

He followed your lead, and pushed himself off the floor with ease. He was now sitting up, staring you directly in the eye. “I’ve got a different asking price right now.” His voice became low, and you stiffened. It wasn’t every day on the field that you were met with a master tempter. Leon knew what he was doing now, and it all started to make sense to you. Regardless of if he really wanted you on his team or not, he kept an eye on you for weeks, months potentially, he brought you in here for one reason, and maybe one reason only. 

“What makes you so sure I’ll accept?” You whispered, not able to find the courage anymore to speak properly. 

“I think I just know. Am I wrong?” He stared deep into your eyes, yet another challenge. The challenges never seemed to end with him.

And, despite everything, you knew he wasn’t. You could feel it inside of you, he was right. You were about to accept his not-so-professional asking price, and you wanted to hate yourself for even giving in, but you couldn’t. You just couldn’t feel anything except eagerness. 

You breathed in shakily, frozen in your spot, wanting him to do something first, but he was just letting you fall apart slowly under his gaze, most likely enjoying watching your reaction to a simple stare. You ground your jaw together, resorting to only shaking your head. “Cocky bastard.” 

He laughed out loud once. “You got that right.” 

It seemed he had it now, not giving you time to start anything that you couldn’t move to do. With a solid palm, he pushed backwards onto your chest, sending you into the floor again. You caught yourself with your forearms and could only stare up at him as he towered over you on his knees, looking more intimidating than he did with a gun pointed at your face.

Leon brought one of his hands down to raid your holders strapped around your waist, pulling the knives free and flipping one open. Your breath caught for a second when he brought it to your neck, but then released even more unsteadily when he gripped your collar in the other hand and tore the blade through the spandex fabric of your bodysuit.

You gasped when the air hit your skin, shielded by the temperature regulating fabric, feeling more exposed than you ever had on a mission before. Of course, you figured, you decided a long time ago that the most comfortable way to don the bodysuit was with as little resistance as possible, so as soon as Leon tore the fabric apart from the middle, yourbare chest was on display for him. You felt heat run through your body, from embarrassment and the arousal that you couldn’t stop.

If it was even possible, his eyes grew darker with emotion previously undetected, and his grip on the bodysuit fragments that he was holding onto tightened endlessly, still tugging them off your body as far as they could go. 

He let go, your sleeves still intact, nipples hardening, before continuing to tear it apart lower, until you felt the crotch seams rip right under you, and as shocked by his actions as you were, you were doing nothing to stop it. You tried to tell yourself you wanted to stop him, but you knew yourself better than that by now. He would have been on the ground before he could have even held the knife to your throat.

If he was a mind reader, it wouldn’t have shocked you to find that out anymore. “Just gonna lay there and let me do this to you? Maybe I overestimated your skill.”

It was one thing to be flayed out by someone you didn’t know, another to be held at gunpoint during a mission, but an entirely different field to be insulted by the person who performed all said acts. 

“You don’t know anything about my skill. I guess saying you’ve been watching me was a lie.” You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, not even caring about your physical state anymore. Using your left arm, you sat further up, pushing Leon backwards with your right, and delivered him right onto his ass. “You think I can’t take charge of a situation?”

He looked up at you, not ready to physically retaliate. “I think you can, only when the person is letting you do so.”

You grabbed a hold of the gaiter still slung around his neck, and suddenly you were inches away from him. “I’m not letting you make me think that you’re allowing me to do anything. If watching me wasn’t a lie, you’d know I’m a lot more capable than what I’ve just let you do.”

He tilted his head sideways, clearly liking the new lack of distance between the two of you. “Then prove it.”

You decided to make a bold move. Repositioning your legs so you were now on top of him, you dropped yourself to sit right in his lap, feeling exactly what you were expecting. He groaned, finally not expecting something from you, and with a victorious smile, you fell lower, grinding into his erection with all your body weight. His hands instinctively went to claw at your thighs, the grip so tight it almost stopped you from moving, and his breathing became ragged.

“You give this treatment to every criminal that breaks into here?”

Leon laughed through the breaths. “I never get to them first to do this.” As you continued to gyrate on his lap, his eyes fell shut and his head rolled back, thumping on the wall behind him. His hands snaked up your legs, fingers toying the edges of the ripped fabric of his doing, and he pulled it further, trying to unsheath you as much as he could.

“Then allow me to make sure the rest of your criminals are forgettable.” You snaked your arms around his torso, letting him pull you loose from the sleeves of your bodysuit. Now free, you kept your grip firmly on his biceps, your own body weakening at the realization of how strong they felt. 

As badly as you wanted to free them, as badly as you wanted to see him underneath his armor, you wanted to see it when he took you. You needed to look up at his gear and see his hardened face, the strong bodyguard who made you submit.

He continued with his deep groans the more you ground down on his hard cock, and you could feel it yourself through his pants. Leon’s efforts made it so you had barely anything protecting you, and all that stood in the way were his thick pants. You wanted to free him from his constraints, but you wanted to be a tease about it.

“I hope you had a plan for this, because I’m not obeying someone who wanted to kill me.” You had yourself steady by gripping his knees with your hands, leaning back, his eyes never peeled away from your breasts, out in the open.

He took a hand and placed it over your hip, large and warm, and it sent a wave of heat straight to your core, sure you were wet through your panties now.

“So now you want me to take charge, after going on about your own strengths, huh…” He squeezed his hand over your hip, and it made you squirm.

You basically hopped up and slammed yourself down on his lap, just wanting to make him suffer. “You’ll do what I say, and we’ll see who's listening to orders.” Your motion had made him whine as predicted, and you carefully studied his face as it was scrunched up, mostly in pleasure, probably some in pain.

“Then what?” He half whispered out at you. “Tell me what to do, then.” His hands made their way up to your chest, squeezing delicately, but enough to arch your back into his touch. His other was seated on your thigh, the pressure of his fingertips increasing by the second.

You leaned in close to him, inches away, enough to taste him if you so pleased, but you waited. “Why don’t you treat me like the criminal I am?”

A shudder visibly flowed through his body at your words, the back of his head hit the wall again. The hand on your thigh was now on your throat, not tightening just yet, but with enough sturdiness to keep you in your place. Your whole body was on the move now as Leon shifted his weight, and once again, you found yourself with your back on the floor, staring up at him towering over you. Though you had already been aware of it, your nakedness became prominent in this moment, realizing Leon’s neck and face were all you could see of his skin.

“Don’t think I’ll be gentle then,” He barked out at you, having shaken off the pleasure from you grinding down on him.

You smirked, watching him finally take his gloves off, having nothing to say, but only (oddly) excited about the new course of action. He stopped bothering with trying to get the rest of your clothes off, having opened up enough room for him to work in. You thought he was most definitely either going to push your panties aside for access or cut them off, and as turned on as you knew you would be if he did the latter, you still had to leave this place after this.

“Take my belt off.” He was rigid after flinging his gloves aside, giving you orders to obey. Keeping your back square on the ground, raising only your arms, your fingers worked swiftly to undo the belt buckle, pulling the leather through the metal and setting it free. You looked up into his eyes, which were boring holes into you, and when he made no other movement, you continued to his button and zipper.

When your hand made contact with the fabric you saw the jump his cock made at the friction, even barely there. He let out a soft, shaky breath at you working it open, never losing his composure. The rigid tent right in front of your face was long and thick, and you had to get your hands on it faster than yours could work themselves.

Finally undone, you pushed the opening aside and pulled down the elastic band of his underwear, his facial expression never changing, up until you wrapped your hand around the base of his dick, now out in the open, and he groaned. He wrapped one of his own hands around your wrist, a plea not to move it, but you ignored it, and brought yourself to a sitting position so his head was lined up with the tip of your tongue.

“You want to suck it too, like a whore?” Leon’s other hand found solace in the back of your head, fingers tangling up your hair to get a steady grip. The pull made you wince, but you silenced the feeling by running your flat tongue along the underside of his dick, swiping along the head and letting the precum sit in your mouth.

A deep sigh was the result of your actions, and everything he did only egged you on. You felt him adding force to your head to move, but again, moved at your own pace, letting your tongue trace the indents and veins, letting your hand massage the base while your other was on the floor, holding you upright.

The anticipation alone of this moment could have filled your mouth with saliva, and the throbbing cock in front of you only added to help it. You opened your wet mouth and seated your lips around the tip, feeling that push on the back of your head again. Your tongue swirled endlessly, dragging up and down the slit, pushing more of the precum to the back of your throat, and finally, when you decided you had had enough, you slid his length as far back as you could go, a heavy breath coming from above you when you bottomed out. 

His grip on your hair became shaky, and his breathing never righted again the more you took him into your mouth, bringing him closer to orgasm. The friction lightened up with your saliva around the base, your hand becoming covered in it, the sickening sucking noises sending sparks straight down to your pussy, which was begging to be touched, but you had to push Leon to the edge first. 

You could feel his legs starting to buckle, but you pushed on, knowing he would stop you before he could cum in your mouth. As much as you wanted to bring him to that, you wanted to be pleasured by him first.

With one more deepthroat, stifling a gag and feeling his hand lift from your hair, he pulled himself out of your mouth, strings of saliva connecting his head to your lips. 

He took a deep breath in, looking down at you, almost spent but so much more to give.

With no warning, his hand was back on your throat, pushing you backwards into the floor once more. This time, the pressure was enough to constrict your breathing slightly, and you wrapped a hand around his thick forearm. 

“You weren’t getting off the hook that easily,” Even with the breathiness he was speaking through, his face still showed all the authoritative attitude that he had in the first five minutes of your encounter. At this angle, the shadows on his face made him even scarier, but you felt nothing except turned on by him. Strands of gelled hair fell forward onto his forehead, a glisten of sweat decorated his skin.

“Maybe this was your plan the whole time,” He continued, the hand on your throat not allowing you to speak, but giving you enough air to be satisfied. Your breath hitched when you felt him pull your panties to the side, and deliver a rough sensation to your sensitive clit. “You knew the treatment you’d get by crossing me.”

One finger, then two, and surely your slick was in a pool on the floor by now. His appendages had no resistance as they slid in and out of you, hitting your soft walls, arching your hips to get more and more, but he had you at bay, and he knew it.

“You like this, huh?” Leon brought himself closer to your face, lips just a hair away from yours, but he wouldn’t kiss you. “You like being treated like a slut?” You took another restricted breath in when he returned to your clit, massaging it in circles, making your pussy ache even more. “Answer me.” 

A choked out sob came out of you before, “Yes, I do…” and you felt your face heating up at the force of making you degrade yourself. 

“Yeah, I can tell, you’re so wet I should’ve just fucked you the moment I caught you.” He was growling at you now, and it did nothing but send you into pure bliss at his treatment. “Maybe you’ll learn another lesson or two, one they could never teach you.”

Between the stimulation on your clit and the hand on your throat, a tear slipped out of your eye, but you were anything but dissatisfied. He raised himself, removed his hand (much to your displeasure), and readjusted himself, cock lined up square with your heat.

“Open your mouth.” You did as you were told, and he spit directly into your open mouth, and at the distraction of that, he slid into you.

Your jaw hung slack as he made his way in, you could feel the way his cock was stretching your walls wide, your pussy was so wet it made it easier than you were expecting it to be. Your eyes rolled back, not being able to help the way your eyelids fluttered closed, eyebrows furrowing, fingernails surely cutting Leon’s skin through his sleeves where you gripped him hard.

The stretch was immaculate, it burned and it felt like you were on fire, but none of it made you want to tell him to stop. Skin to skin contact was made on your clit when he was all the way in, you felt so full you could barely breathe, and your clit was sending rocket fire signals to your brain, it made you writhe with the sensations.

You gasped, the drag out feeling just as good as the shove in, and you cried out through the constriction around your throat, “Leon… fuck,”

Leon grunted at your appraisal, you felt the fingers over your neck twitch, knowing he was holding himself back from using all the strength he had in his one hand. You tried your hardest to pry your eyes open, you needed to see him.

“You’re such a slut, letting yourself get fucked to get out of trouble,” He spit out at you in between hard thrusts and heavy breathing. You practically felt the tip of his dick hit your stomach every time he thrust in, and from the sounds alone, you knew it had you soaked. You already knew he was a big man, but watching him in his bulletproof gear had you even weaker than you were before, this big heavy guard taking advantage of you, using you, and you loved it.

Your legs wrapped around his torso, hoisting your hips up to feel more, get him deeper, if it was even possible. 

You could barely even breathe, every move that Leon made inside of you made your head spin, every noise he made turned you to jelly, every thrust had you whining so hard you were sure you were going to lose your voice. 

The pressure on your throat lifted, and the sharp intake of cold air down your windpipes made you dizzy. Opening your eyes, Leon was now back to his position on his knees, still fully sheathed inside of you, and with a slick motion, and the wettest sounds you had ever heard from yourself, he slid out, leaving you empty.

You didn’t even have time to process the movement before Leon had his hand on your arms and was turning you over, bare chest to the cold floor, and you unintentionally shuddered. Using your arms to the best of your ability to hold yourself up, you felt them shake violently, and knew they would give out any time soon. 

Looking up, you saw Leon reach forward and pull his discarded jacket down from the back of the chair, sliding it under your head, and pressing you back down by the nape of your neck. You couldn’t help but moan.

Strong hands settled on your hips, and you had to bite the material under you to muffle the scream as Leon pushed himself back into you, every nerve on fire as he hit the deepest spots you didn’t know existed. This time, he was relentless, like he promised.

You could barely hear him through your own screaming and whining.

“Take it like a whore, I know you can…” A slap to your ass, more tears from your eyes. “Fuck, so good, you’ll learn now…” Hands in your hair, pulling your head up. “I’m gonna fill you up, like a fucking slut,” 

Barely processing anymore, your head a mess and eyes full of tears, you only registered the small change when you felt his arm around your waist, fingers teasing circles into your clit while still pounding into your pussy, still getting wetter by the second. The new feeling had your legs spreading wider for him, further weakening you, your thighs shaking with a strong timber you know no man had ever given you before.

“L-Leon…” It didn’t even sound like words anymore at this point, but Leon got the idea. He pressed harder into the soft nub, making you bite back into his jacket and moan loudly. 

“Come on, I know you can cum for me,” Two more thrusts had him in, and you felt the shaft of his cock pulsing erratically inside of you as he released his seed in you, not waiting for you to say he could or not, but knowing he was going to anyway. 

The feeling of being filled to the brink was what send you over the edge, his fingers still making work and his dick milking itself dry inside of your tight walls had you clenching around it, ragged breaths taking your body hostage as white flashed before your eyelids, and Leon knew he had made you finish, especially in the way your body crumpled underneath him.

Swallowing hard, your throat dry, you slowly came back to reality, and your vision cleared. You felt hands on your waist, slowly rolling you over to lay on your back.

Leon was positioned over you, edge in his eyes long gone, face shiny and slick from sweating, all his hair nearly limp over his face. He looked like a completely different person.

“Are you alright?” Still not knowing if you can speak, you nodded, letting your mouth re-salivate. He pinched your chin delicately between his forefinger and thumb, moving your head to the side to expose your neck. “If I bruised you, I didn’t mean to.”

You shook your head. “It will give me something to cover my disappearance with.” You had no idea how long it had been, but with no contact to Carlos back at base, you wouldn’t be surprised if your entire team flanked the building at this very second to rescue you. Now how to get out with an entirely ripped bodysuit…

“Consider my offer.” Leon mumbled, clear enough to hear, but low enough to hear his exertion. “I was serious.”

You blinked slowly at him, not seeing his expression change at his offer. “If I accept, I’m not a criminal you’ll have to put in place anymore.”

At this, he smiled, and dipped his head down to kiss you again, possibly one of the only times he had that night.

“Honey,” He pulled away. “You’ll always be a criminal.”

[that-one-fandom-vore-blog]

The whole sky was spinning (I might have been drunk)

Written for @that-gt-and-vore-stuffs from the prompt: “Oh come onnnn! Do you really want me to starve?” Thanks, bud!

Going to a party with Kelly was one thing. Sam knew what to expect from her friend when the world seemed so far away and all that mattered was the thumping of music in the air-- a good amount of drunken laughter, sitting on the roof of her car, singing loudly along to whatever song was playing from inside-- they were things Sam had grown used to. 

But being with Adam at a party like this one wasn’t something she was used to. Not in the slightest. 

Truth be told, she hadn’t wanted to go. It was some thing for one of his friends, a football player, if Sam remembered correctly— which she’d found a little odd. Adam didn’t exactly fit into the jock category— a little too lanky, not to mention, he didn’t care all that much about sports— but he’d wanted to go.

He’d said it would just be a small get together— nothing fancy. He’d also offered to drive, and with a small flash of those puppy-dog eyes... Sam was all but helpless to sigh and agree to go. It had been worth it for his smile alone.

So there they were.

Sam was perched on his shoulder as they came up to the outside of the house. She could already smell what was happening— that party smell, one of sweat and booze, along with something burning. That last one caused concern to rise in her chest, though it was quickly combated by the sight of smoke rising from the backyard.

Bonfire.

The tension drained from her near instantly. Leaning up against Adam’s neck with a sigh, Sam grabbed the fabric of his shirt. “Are you sure it’s okay that I’m—“

“Babe, relax,” he soothed, “we talked on the way here, remember? They won’t mind.” There was a gentle tone in his words that made Sam feel a little more at ease. It wasn’t that he spoke poetry or anything like that— not even close— but his honest way of just saying what he wanted was something that had grown on her. She leaned a little closer to his neck.

“Okay...” She murmured, smiling softly.

“And,” he added, “I’ll have you back by your curfew. Eleven, right?”

Sam winced.

“...ten thirty?” He tried to amend, looking down at his watch. Sam didn’t bother looking with him.

It wasn’t too dark out yet— the sky a deep, navy color above their heads that held her attention. She couldn’t see any stars, not yet, but they’d come out eventually. Hopefully before her curfew. The party wouldn’t run all that long... right? Just long enough that she’d be able to lay on Adam’s chest and stare up at the stars for a few minutes before they headed back would be the ideal timeframe, and if she had to push her curfew a little later... she wouldn’t mind doing it.

“Yeah,” she responded, “what time is it, anyway?”

“Quarter to eight. Got dark fast tonight, huh?”

Sam nodded in response as Adam brought them both forward. She could hear music. Faint. Pulsing through the air and embedding itself in her chest, and with every step he took, it only grew louder in the air. It was a smallish house-- for a giant neighborhood, anyway. One story, for one, which probably explained why Adam didn’t bother knocking, instead, he simply waltzed his way around to the backyard and swung open the gate. 

Sam nuzzled a little closer to his neck, wary. It wasn’t as though she didn’t trust his friends, no, but... giants didn’t exactly have great track records when it came to drinking moderately, and although that was fine, the fact that they were so big compared to herself was... a little unnerving. She was fine with Adam, but a bunch of strangers? Not so much.

Eyes nervously scanning over the shapes of the others sitting around the roaring fire, Sam felt her little heart sink upon realizing that nobody her height was there. Not that she’d expected any other tinies to be there, but... she clung a little tighter to Adam’s shirt. 

“Hey!” 

The greeting that rose up was a little sluggish-- they’d already been drinking-- but it lacked no enthusiasm, and from the look on his face... Sam knew that they’d stay at the fire awhile. 

Getting introduced was awkward. She couldn’t remember any names— not that she’d be faulted for it— and she knew she wouldn’t be remembering any faces, either. Still, she’d smiled politely and nodded along to their words from where she sat on Adam’s shoulder. The only good part of the introductions was the fact that Adam had called her his girlfriend. It had made her cheeks light up pink.

It shouldn’t have— they’d been dating for three months— but... the tender, gentle tone in his voice when he said it was enough to make her heart flutter in her chest. Girlfriend. Like it was some precious thing. She’d caught him trying to sneak a glance, too, which had only made her blush deepen and caused her to bite back a grin. The other giants at the party had noticed and drunkenly teased their approval as Adam pulled up a chair and sat, cracking open a cold one.

It was going to be a long night. The portable speaker blared tirelessly on as the sky above grew darker. Sam had tried to be a part of the conversations for awhile— and they’d even included her, which had been an unexpected change— but once the topic shifted to sports... she’d given up on listening, leaning up against Adam’s neck instead and drinking in his warmth. It was intoxicating in a way. The only downside was the fucking noise.

Every time he brought his can to his lips, she could easily hear— and even feel him swallow enough liquid to fill up a bath for someone her size. There’d be a slight fizz as he gulped, too, growing faint quickly before disappearing entirely. It was a little hard to listen to, if she was being entirely honest. So instead, Sam focused on the lazy baseline filtering from the speaker as Adam began to down yet another can.

Isn’t he my ride home?

The thought made her heart sink a little, though she was quick to brush it off. She could just call Kelly to come get her, and Adam had only driven to pick her up— he could walk home.

She relaxed a little further, focusing on the fire that was slowly winding its way down. The coals were glimmering as one of the giants lightly nudged at it with a poker, causing one of the more burned logs to roll onto its side. The conversation had died down a little. It was nice, the words exchanged a bit nonsensical, sure, but Sam wasn’t paying them much attention. She was more focused on the soft sound of Adam breathing. More focused on the heat radiating from him. More focused on the smell of smoke in the air and the sounds of the small crowd starting to dwindle in number.

It was peaceful. Adam had been right. The gales of somewhat drunken laughter had been something she’d be able to do without, but... all in all, it was panning out to be a good night.

Until Adam hiccuped.

Sam squeaked at the sudden, sharp noise, and when his body jolted, she felt herself slipping forward and off his shoulder. Unable to grab ahold of anything, Sam knew it wasn’t a far fall to his lap, but—

Before she could properly panic about her loss of balance, the familiar surface of his hands were beneath her. It was a clumsy catch. She couldn’t complain— a catch was a catch, after all— and she exhaled a soft laugh. “I— s-sorry, I lost my balance...” Looking up, she couldn’t help but laugh softly at the somewhat confused look on his face, though... it quickly melted to a look of fondness.

“Oh... you’re—“ he broke into a hiccup, and Sam bit her lip hard to hide a laugh when she was lifted closer, “—cute.”

He’s so out of it.

She knew he couldn’t hold his alcohol well in the slightest, but seeing him like this was nothing short of hilarious. Despite the fact that he looked hazy and unfocused, the genuine affection that was showing on his face was downright adorable. Grinning, she tapped on the end of his nose. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she teased back, giving a giggle when his cheeks dusted with pink in the firelight.

Hiccuping, he mumbled something that she couldn’t quite make out, though from the way it caused his blush to turn darker, she knew right away she had to figure it out. She cocked her head innocently. “Say something?”

He sighed. Lifting his head, he opened his mouth to speak. A hiccup interrupted him, causing his hands to jolt slightly. Sam nearly lost her balance— and her struggle to regain it, she almost missed his words.

“I have a girlfriend...” He mumbled, sheepishly, “so I shouldn’t have... shouldn’t have told you...”

Now this was just adorable. Sitting down on his palm, putting her back up against his fingers, Sam tried to keep her composure and nodded. “Ah, that makes sense. You’re definitely the sort of guy who deserves a pretty girl.”

His smile was normally crooked, but now? It was nothing short of completely goofy. “Oh... yeah, she’s... she’s beautiful...” Hands jolting with another hiccup, Adam glance over at the other partygoers with a wistful look that made it clear he was seeing right through them. “She’s... shes real smart, too... head’s all...” He broke off to wave one of his hands dismissively in the air before sipping at his drink, “full. Of facts. Buncha big... numbers.”

Sam covered her mouth and took a deep breath. She was not going to laugh at him. Not yet, at least, lest he realize— this was fun. “She sounds nice.”

“She IS! She’s the nicest... always... full of nice-ness—“ a hiccup jolted from his throat, though he was quick to bounce back. “—an’ she’s real... real good at words... like poetry sometimes, a-a-and she’s always... so nervous... it’s really cute...”

It was Sam’s turn to be bashful. “Oh?”

“Yeah...” he breathed, a warm blast of air from his maw enough to remind her of how close she was to his face. “She’s... she looks a lot like you... ‘cept she doesn’t always... doesn’t always wear glasses like yours... but she has a real pretty... f-face... and pretty thoughts...”

Sam snickered.

Adam’s expression turned a little offended. “She does!” He insisted, drawing himself closer, nearly bumping his nose against her. “All those... pretty thoughts in her pretty head...”

“Adam,” Sam prompted, causing him to trail off and settle his lovestruck eyes on her. She’d had her fun. Laughing, she stood up on tiptoe and leaned close to him. “Can I tell you a secret?”

He leaned closer as well. She could not only feel his breath but smell it, too, more than evidence of the fact that he’d been drinking. “Sure...” He slurred out, holding onto the “S” sound a little too long.

Sam pressed her hands against his cheek. “I am Samantha Brown.”

He blinked. He looked almost like a befuddled little puppy as he cocked his head, brow furrowing confusedly. “...who?”

The laughter that overtook Sam was nothing short of spontaneous. Her whole body shook from the force. She was glad to be laying against Adam’s fingers— otherwise, she would’ve fallen straight off his hand. “Your girlfriend, goof.”

The look of bewilderment that crossed his face only made her laugh harder, closing her eyes until something brushed against her— Adam, nuzzling up to her. “You should’ve told me!” There was a genuine sort of irritation in his voice, the words coming out all together in a moan. “’Cos then I could’ve...”

His lips pressed up against her face, a pleased little noise pulling from his throat. It vibrated through her. Laughing softly, she returned the gentle contact as well as she could, small lips pressing against his own. It was a little clumsy, but... he was pretty sloshed. One of her hands found his jawline, fingers running along his chin. When he pulled away, leaving her laying across his palm, she tilted her head with a small smile. 

“Babe...” She murmured, “how many did you--”

He hiccuped. “Th...ree... I think...”

Lightweight.

Snickering softly, she carefully sat upright and sighed. “So you’re not going to be my ride home, huh?” 

The party had all but died out-- though to be fair, it hadn’t been much of a full party to begin with. It had been mellow from the start, different than the full ragers that she frequented Kelly. Maybe it was because they’d stayed outside the whole time-- maybe it was the calming night air, or the fire, but... it had a different atmosphere. It was sort of nice. 

Most of the other partygoers had either coupled off or left. The music had been switched off some time ago, leaving them with the low hum of conversations happening around the backyard and the sound of the fire burning itself out. Sam barely heard it. She was more focused on the soft sound of Adam breathing, along with her own heart thumping in her chest. 

His eyes were full of genuine adoration, and in a way, it was almost disorienting. True, he looked at her all the time-- but never... quite like this. It was making butterflies flutter lightly in her stomach. 

“Have I told you... I really love you... l-like... a lot...” 

His voice made her chest vibrate, ribs buzzing with the sheer magnitude it held compared to her own. She felt small, sure, but... not unsafe. Not in the slightest. Her face was brilliantly red, now, damn near scarlet. She coughed.

Adam’s lips brushed against her side, not in a kiss, but in a clumsy attempt to nuzzle up to her. “I mean it! I love you, like... a whole lot!” 

Pushing him away, Sam looked up into those gentle blue eyes he had. A warm feeling rose across her body. “I love you, too,” she admitted through a soft giggle. 

His whole face lit up like a Christmas tree. If time were to stop, allowing her only to view the way his grin was crooked and genuine, only to look at his eyes that were crinkled around the corners, Sam wouldn’t mind it. Not at all. 

“Really?” His eyebrows raised, and although he was still grinning, still blushing warmly, Sam could tell from his voice alone that he was seriously asking. It was enough to make her giggle at him again. 

“’Course,” she promised. Would he remember this in the morning? It was hard to tell. Judging by his... everything, Sam was pretty certain that a hard “no” was probably the best answer. When he moved closer again, Sam pressed one of her hands up against the end of his nose. “Hang on a sec, babe,” she murmured, reaching into her pocket to fish out her phone. The plastic bag holding it crinkled. It was something she’d learned to keep over the device— after all, with her history of ending up in... somewhat damp places, Sam had learned from experience. The bag stayed.

A little whine pulled from Adam. Again, he tried to nuzzle against her.

As much as she felt a little bad for making him wait... she needed a ride home, and soon. 

Nearly eleven. Shit.

It looked like she wouldn’t be making her curfew... though... her mother hadn’t texted yet. Maybe she was working late. Maybe she wouldn’t notice that her daughter wasn’t home. It was a long shot, sure, but maybe--

“Sam...” Adam whined out, setting his chin on the end of his hand, nose lightly brushing against her. “What’re you--”

“Lemme ask Kelly for a ride, okay? Then I’m all yours for... however long I can stall for.” 

Thumbing quickly, she opened up Kelly’s contact and shot off a quick request for a ride. She’d be awake, and if not... she’d just stay the night at Adam’s. No big deal-- she’d done it before, and while it wasn’t something her mother had enjoyed, having her daughter spending more time with “that giant”, it hadn’t gone over too poorly, all things considered. 

Sam: hey, can u come pick me up? I’ll be at Adam’s p quick, but he’s sorta out of it.

She hit send just before Adam butted her with his nose again and made a low noise in the back of his throat. A laugh pulled from her, and with a quick peck to his cheek, she shook her head. “Somebody’s clingy, hm?” She teased, lightly. Pulling away with a soft smile, she patted his cheek. “C’mon. Time to go.”  

Adam frowned. “S’it... ten thirty... already?” He asked, jostling Sam when he stood. His legs seemed a little wobbly under him, though he seemed to be trying his best to keep Sam from being in any sort of discomfort. “Shit... I wasn’t payin’... attention...” 

“It’s okay,” Sam reassured him with a pat to his hand, “I... It’s just about eleven, though, so we should... really get going.” Being so far above the ground in the grasp of a drunken giant certainly wasn’t something Sam could say she was comfortable with, but he only lived a few blocks down the street, so... she wasn’t all that concerned. He’d make it, and if he didn’t, her and Kelly could probably get him the help he needed. 

Probably.

Bracing herself heavily on his thumb and smiling softly as he took a step forward, Sam internally readied herself to be his navigator. She didn’t pay much attention to the goodbyes hollered his way, nor did she pay much attention to the direction Adam picked to walk. At least his instinct as to which way he needed to walk was right-- she only had to steer him in the right direction a few times, and he listened well enough when she did.He was fairly easy to coax back toward his house, though to be fair, it wasn’t all that far. 

The only difficulty was the fact that he wouldn’t stop nuzzling up against her, which made it had to navigate. He was making contented noises, too, humming happily and murmuring words that were too slurred together to make out properly. 

“Is this why you don’t drink?” She asked him as he stumbled, holding her up to his face. 

“...I do drink. Hydration.”

Sam stifled a laugh as well as she could manage. “Right, yeah, but... are you always like this at parties?” 

He had to think about that one. His walking slowed for a moment before stopping entirely, allowing him to shake his head without falling too far off balance. “I... don’t know,” he admitted, slowly, before breaking into a giggle that was absolutely a new thing for him. 

Sam loved it. Her own laughter joined his own in the night, and when he began walking again, she clambered her way up his sleeve to sit on his shoulder. He didn’t seem to mind, now focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Sam leaned against his neck. They weren’t too far from his place, and already, she’d mentally resigned herself to the notion of staying the night. After all, her mother already didn’t like him, so... what was the harm in it? It wasn’t like she could hate him any more than she already did. 

That in her mind, Sam stayed mostly quiet as Adam hummed and mumbled his way up to the front of his house, where he spent a good few minutes fumbling with the keys. When he finally got the door open, Sam allowed herself to be lifted in his gentle grip and brought up to his face. He looked proud of himself, and after a moment-- he was kissing her again. Sam didn’t resist. 

She didn’t resist as he stepped inside, and she even didn’t resist as she heard the door swing closed behind them both-- but what threw her for a loop was when she felt something wet and faintly warm on her body, dragging easily across her front. 

“Adam!” She squealed, earning a soft noise of protest when she pulled away, falling against his palm. 

His tongue was still hanging out from between his lips when he looked down at her, visibly confused. Withdrawing it, he cocked his head. “What?”

Bringing a hand up to wipe at her hair, feeling it come away spit-soaked, she gave an incredulous scoff. “You licked me!” It had happened before, sure, but now? He clearly wasn’t in his right mind. 

He furrowed his brow. “Oh.”

The way he said it alone was enough to make Sam have to hold in a laugh. Swatting a glob of drool off her cheek, she tried to find some words, but--

His tongue pressed against her again. Harder this time. It lingered longer, too, coating her entirely in strings of drool before he pulled away, shooting her a needy glance. His eyes were half-lidded, blearily focused on her face. “Sam... c’mon...” He murmured, gently. His breath seemed muggier than normal as it washed over her, ruffling her hair and smelling of cheap beer.  “It’ll be fine...”

Shifting a little on his palm, feeling spit soaking through the thin fabric of her shirt, Sam crossed her arms. “I really don’t want to have to explain to my mom in the morning why I’m covered in spit-- and you were drinking! It’ll be like a bath!”

A little whine tugged up from his throat. “But I didn’t eat anything... and it won’t be that bad...” As if on cue, his stomach gurgled lowly, more than proving its emptiness. He coupled it with a pout, sticking out his lower lip and creasing his brow. 

“Babe,” Sam started in a warning tone of voice, “I like this shirt.”

“It... s’not gonna stain...” 

When he opened his mouth again, she was ready, and managed to step just out of his range, teetering on the ends of his fingers. The look that crossed his face was nothing short of priceless. When he spoke, he sounded more exasperated than anything else. “Oh come onnnn! Do you really want me to starve?”

“You’re not gonna starve,” Sam said through a laugh, “and you’re not going to get anything by whining...” 

Maybe the party had rubbed off on her. Maybe it was the way that he seemed so loosened up that caused her to stand a little taller and grin at him. “At least... not unless you ask nicely.”

His demeanor changed in a snap. No longer moping, Adam stood a little straighter and all but pranced over to the couch, which he was quick to sit himself down on, still balancing Sam gently on his palm. She could practically feel the excitement coming off him in waves, and while if he’d done this a month ago, she’d be terrified, now? It was sort of endearing. 

She crossed her arms. “Well?” She prompted. 

Adam swallowed heavily. “...please?” He tried, voice wobbling a little.

“...please what?” Struggling not to laugh at the way he chewed on his lip, Sam kept one brow quirked as her boyfriend struggled to find his words for a moment. 

“Can...can I please.. can I please eat you?” He asked in a voice so small that Sam would never have guessed it belonged to the gentle giant holding her. It was quiet, and laced with a genuine sort of gentleness that made her feel a little less like she was only a meager three inches tall. 

More than a little aware of the fact that his eyes were trained on her like those of a hawk hunting a mouse, Sam tapped a finger against her chin in mock thought. “Mm... since you did ask so nicely...” Turning her eyes to meet his, the tiny girl sighed and brought her hands down to her sides. “Alright.” 

It happened faster than normal. 

One minute, she’d been standing on his palm, and the next, her surroundings were warm, wet, and oh so alive. A tongue curled around her, drawing her further into the damp heat of his jaws, and although her legs did clip up against his teeth... she didn’t feel any fear. None. Instead, she relaxed, allowing herself to be toyed with a little. 

My mom’s going to kill me.

She smirked a little at the thought. Maybe this was why Kelly was always so adamant that she should try being her own person for a change. After all, she never would’ve tried anything like what she was doing now had she allowed her mother’s own fears to manifest in her head. 

Feeling herself get squished up against the roof of Adam’s mouth,Sam gave a small laugh, one hand patting the surface of his tongue somewhat gently. She knew she was being tasted. She probably tasted like campfire, and judging by the sheer amount of saliva puddling in the dark around her, she could safely guess that he enjoyed it. A hum vibrated her surroundings. 

He sounded genuinely happy. 

Sam stayed completely limp as she felt her surroundings all tilt back, though she did flinch a little at the feeling of her shoes touching the back of his throat, slipping a little into the dark tunnel before--

A small gulp pulled her downward. His tongue rose, arching slightly to angle her toward his throat, and with another loud swallow that echoed wetly around her, Sam felt herself get pulled down and fully into the slick tunnel of his throat. She stayed still, feeling the muscles greedily pushing her tiny form down press and tug at her. She could hear his heartbeat increasing in volume as she slid further and further into his chest, hear the gentle noise of his breathing, coupled with waiting, hungry gurgles from the chamber below her. 

It didn’t take her long to spill into the darkness. 

The first thing Sam was made aware of as her little body hit the dark chamber of Adam’s belly was the liquid that splashed up around her upon her arrival. It wasn’t cold— not shockingly so, anyway, having been warmed up by his body— but it was still a little disorienting to end up mostly submerged in lukewarm beer. She struggled to get a little ways out of the warm liquid, pressing her back flush against one of Adam’s stomach walls.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Sam huffed up at him, raising her voice in order to be heard.

A noise that sounded almost like a full, contented purr rolled up around her, vibrating the walls that encased her. “Thank you...” He murmured in response.

Sam stretched out as the chamber shifted, the walls around her contracting for a moment as Adam stretched, clearly settling down. Everything in his gut sloshed as he laid on his back, and although Sam would normally protest... he was clearly out of it. Instead, she sighed and reached for the wall now sagging above her to lightly run her hands along his stomach lining, palms sinking into the fleshy surface.

The contented little growl that shook her to her core was more than a bit of an indicator that her movement was well received. The tension around her drained even further if that was possible. Smiling in the dark, listening to the noises of his inner workings along with his steady breathing and heartbeat, Sam shook her head fondly.

“Anytime, babe.”

The silence that fell between them wasn’t really a silence at all. It was punctuated by low rumbles and gurgles that rang in the air around Sam, and although his stomach was actively churning, she didn’t find it all that hard to get comfortable. It was warm. Soft. Safe in a way that made her smile just thinking about it. After all— what could harm her in here?

Her feelings of being at ease only grew as Adam gently pressed his hands against her from the outside, tracing circles lightly over the same spots that she pressed at his stomach lining. No words were exchanged, though both could feel the other shivering at the movements.

Sam could feel her heart syncing up with his own, the gentle, pulsing vibrations in the walls lining up with the thumping from her own chest. Her internal massage slowed a tad, eventually transitioning to her lying still on her back, listening to the clear sounds of his contentment.

Until it was interrupted by a buzz from her back pocket.

All at once, it came flooding back. Kelly. It was easy to forget the outside world even existed when she was tucked away in Adam’s stomach, and in truth, she already had forgotten it was there, but as she fished out her phone in the darkness, she was reminded of the fact that the clock did continue to tick steadily forward, no matter where she was.

When the light of her phone illuminated her surroundings, highlighting the pinkish walls around her, Sam had to squint until her eyes adjusted to the lighting. It was hard to read through the plastic bag’s folds, but after a moment, she managed. A string of messages from the past half hour stared back at her.

Kelly: I feel the need to inform you that it’s almost midnight

Kelly: is this about that party thing?

Kelly: did he get fuckin wasted?

Kelly: took what? 2 sips?

Kelly: ur dating a lightweight

Skimming though a couple more like those, Sam’s gaze finally settled on the last message.

——————

Kelly: I’ll rescue u tho u owe me,,, be there in 5

——————

Kelly: u kno what? Fuck u. I’m going to sleep.

[mymelonerboner]

It’s Pink Season! - Chapter 1 - A JoJo OC fanfic

(i should preface this by giving this fic some context -- this fic took four OCs of four different people (one of them is me!) from a JoJo discord server that i hold especially dear to my heart. i set myself the challenge of taking these characters from wildly different imaginations and trying to piece together a cohesive story where they all interact with each other. to the owners of these OCs, i hope i’ll do them justice. this fic is estimated to last 4/5 chapters, and depending on my free time, maybe i’ll do something like this again with more OCs from other people, who knows :) anyways hope you guys enjoy what i’ve got so far!)

Rémi - belongs to Quality Queen

Kyra - belongs to Kyrare

Claudia - belongs to Sweet Kurage

Unknown Figure - belongs to meee!

Chapter 1 Word Count: 1,923

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

Rémi sighed as he stared out the faintly fogged windshield of the SPW-assigned black sedan, quietly eyeing the suburban road ahead and its enveloping morning mist, delivering a sense of eerie tranquility. Despite its unimpressive, mundane exterior, the sedan's interior had been fitted with a number of luxurious modifications, though all Rémi really cared about were the body-heat-sensitive automatic air conditioner and the fruit juice dispenser.

He wasn't particularly fond of driving, especially considering it was somewhat illegal for him to (of course, the foundation had some strings pulled just for him, to his obligation), but Kyra was too lazy, and God forbid anyone tries to argue with her. As for Claudia…he didn't really want to trouble her. It's been about two weeks since he and Kyra were assigned to be her bodyguards. She always kept somewhat of a distance, but lately she seemed to be steadily warming up to them. He knew very little about the intentions of the Speedwagon Foundation, and whatever this girl meant to them was nothing short of an enigma to him.

What piqued his curiosity more, however, was the mysterious briefcase, currently sitting in the backseat next to Claudia. He and Kyra were instructed yesterday to deliver it to a safehouse uptown from Brooklyn, and that's as far as he knows about it. One thing he knew for sure, however, was that if the foundation had to contact stand users like him for a simple job like this, it meant two things: One, whatever it was in that briefcase was incredibly important, and two, there were very dangerous people who want it.

"I'm huuuuunnnnggrrryyyyyyy. Can we take a pit stop?" Kyra purred from her passenger seat in half-hearted irritance. Rémi felt his left eye twitch a little.

"We just left the hotel two hours ago. Tell me you're joking."

"Well the food was pretty shit so I kind of just ate one egg." Kyra idly tapped at the condensed window by her right ear. The tapping made Rémi's grip on the wheel tighten. 

But it wasn't because he was annoyed. Moreso, he was worried. He really wanted to get this job over and done with as soon as possible, with as few breaks as possible.

"Well that's your fault, Kyra."

"What am I supposed to do now? Survive off some fuckin' fruit juice until we reach Brooklyn? Come onnn Rémi, show some pity won't ya."

Rémi's eyes darted around the environment before him. Quiet morning, quiet road. Not many pedestrians. He knew that an attack could arrive anytime. But it wasn't that he was worried about his safety. He had full confidence in his stand to protect him. 

The ability to copy attributes. With just a touch, his stand could replicate the attribute of an object. It could be its material, its flexibility, its strength, even its intelligence or speed if it was alive. He knew that this ability, coupled with the ability to wear his own stand like a suit of armor, would serve as a decent defense against a whole variety of attacks.

"Can't you just hold tight for another three hours or so?" Rémi retorted dismissively. "We'll have lunch then. Also, don't fucking insult the fruit juice dispenser."

"I'll insult what I want, kid," Kyra snapped back with an accented hiss. "And look, what if we get attacked? How am I supposed to kick ass on an empty stomach? I gotta get my energy somewhere."

Rémi pursed his lips. He knew she wasn't exactly joking. 

The ability to redirect and transfer energy. Kyra's stand allowed her to manipulate any energy that comes within contact of it. Heat, electricity, kinetic energy, her stand could control its flow however it wanted. Ever had Rémi witnessed her manipulating the energy of life itself, sending her own life force into allies to speed up their recovery. Couple this with her additional ability to form a metallic cat-like defensive suit around parts of her body, and she made for a lethal, well-rounded ally. Dare Rémi say, she could probably easily floor him in a matter of seconds.

If only she wasn't such a bitch to work with.

Rémi wasn't worried about her safety one bit either. What really kept his knuckles white against the steering wheel was the quiet girl sitting in the back of the sedan. 

As he pulled the car to a stop at a traffic junction, he shot a glance at Claudia through the rearview mirror. He didn't want to bring her along with them for the delivery, but both he and Kyra were given strict orders not to let her leave either of their sights for any extended period of time.

"Rém… Rém, are you ignoring me? Rémiiiiiiii, come onnnn. Okay, I'm sorry for calling you a kid, alright kid? Come on, you know I get a little cranky when I'm peckish." Kyra pulled a cartoonish pouty face. "Can't we just, iunno, fuckin' grab a sandwich from a gas station nearby or something? Just one. I'll be quick. You know I'm quick on my feet. Oh come on, back me up here Dia."

"..."

"Dia?"

The young Spanish girl stayed silent, palms pressed against the door window, eyes fixated on something along the pavement. Rémi followed her gaze and found himself staring at a neatly dressed gentleman sitting on a bench. He looked middle-aged and worryingly tired.

Claudia was a stand user, that much Rémi knew. He also knew it was a rather low-power stand type. The thought of her getting stuck in the thick of a stand battle made Rémi furrow his brow in concern. Especially with that stand of hers…

That stand of hers, hovering right behind the gentleman on the bench. Intricate black and gold details shimmered, lit by the dawn light, all along the leathery texture of the lean, hunched humanoid, from its sullen black-net-veiled face, down to its smoke-like ankles that surrounded its legs in a despairing shroud of gray. It held one leathery hand, embroidered with dull gold gear patterns, against the right shoulder of the man, shuddering and trembling, of which the man took no heed of. Not that he would, he was no stand user, plus he had much more urgent things to be focused on, like the shallowing of his breaths and the tightness in his chest.

He couldn't even hear how much the ghostly figure behind him was crying.

The man gripped his shirt above his heart in excruciating pain, his gasping growing more and more rapid and desperate, attracting the attention of some pedestrians. Panic was starting to spread along the sidewalk as people rushed to his side, some screaming to call for an ambulance.

But Rémi knew better than to interfere, and so did Kyra. He shot a glance at Claudia's mortified face, one that he's gotten much more used to now, and knew that there was nothing they could do anyway.

The light turned green.

"Try not to focus on it too much, Dia." Rémi murmured in a low voice as he pressed down on the pedal and drove away from the scene.

The ability to sense fated death.

*     *     *     *     *

It was coming to noon now, and the three had been driving for hours.

"Shit… Kyra, pass me the map. I think I already passed the right junction." Rémi pursed his lips in frustration.

"No you haven't, we haven't even passed the Five Guys yet." Kyra said. "Speaking which, whatcha say about a quick drive-thru lunch? I could kill for some Five Guys right now."

"That can't be right. I've been driving way too long. Hold up, let me take a U-turn."

"Oh come on, are you really gonna drag this out? We're gonna have lunch in fucking Christmas at this point."

"I checked the surrounding vicinity of this car… there is no Five Guys within fifty meters ahead of us."

A cold, despondent voice suddenly cut through the comfortably body-heat-sensitive-automatically chilled air of the sedan. Claudia's stand had its head partially phased through the windshield, weary eyes piercing through Rémi's own. Kyra let out a curt screech in surprise.

"God fucking- DIA! Can you at least warn us before you pull up your Gloom-boy like that next time?" She hissed.

Claudia kept her gaze somewhat absentmindedly out the door window, her voice held timid. "Gloomy Sunday has his own sentience. I let him do what he wants."

Rémi cursed quietly under his breath. "That can't be right. So we did pass it. I'm turning back." He gave the wheel a sharp twist, swerving the sedan to the left side of the surprisingly empty road and began backtracking.

Except he didn't feel like he was backtracking at all.

"C’est quoi ce bordel...?" Rémi muttered as he scanned the buildings around him in astonishment. The whole environment that was just behind him moments ago suddenly felt unsettlingly unfamiliar to him. He wasn't even sure he had ever passed by this area before. But that wasn't possible… was it?

He glanced at Kyra. He could tell it wasn't just him. This wasn't some Jamais vu.

"Yo… this doesn't look right. Since when did we pass by here?" Kyra squinted her eyes as she peered around.

"...Is something wrong?" Claudia looked up at Rémi through the rearview mirror, seemingly gripping the handle of the car door a little tighter.

Rémi drew a short breath. "I'm not sure. I'll backtrack a little further…" The environment only seemed to grow more and more foreign, yet with an uncanny sense of familiarity, like everything was unrecognizable, yet perfectly normal at the same time. Rémi soon found himself unsure of which junctions and turns he took, and it was not long before he found himself completely lost, and nothing short of confused.

"Kyra, I need you to check the map."

"Dude, I have no fucking clue where we are on the map."

"Shit, none of this feels right. I swear, we couldn't have gotten lost so quickly like that…"

Suddenly, Claudia made an audible gasp. Her stand floated out from behind her, and spoke with a melancholy tone teased with an undertone of alarm.

"Rémi, Kyra, be careful. Someone is following us."

Fuck. An enemy? So soon?

Kyra already had a metallic paw forming over her right hand, tipped at the fingertips to resemble claws. "This is a fucking stand attack!? Book it, Rémi. We need to get the hell away from these buildings right now!"

"I know what I'm supposed to do!" And with that, Rémi slammed the pedal and started darting straight through the unsettlingly empty road. So long as they can get out of this complex maze of buildings, they'll stand a better chance. He needed to find the edge of the town.

Claudia suddenly gave a shriek. "Wait, Rémi! In front of you! Watch out!"

In front of the car, no further than ten meters away, what looked like the basic silhouette of a human figure started to form seemingly from nowhere, atop the silhouette of a motorcycle. As the sedan drew closer, the details of the figure gradually grew more and more distinct, almost as though it was melting into existence out of thin air. The sedan was approaching it fast. Dangerously fast.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!" Kyra screeched, reaching for the steering wheel from her passenger seat. "SWERVE, RÉMI! FUCKING SWERVE!"

"LA VACHE! SHUT UP! I'M TRYING!" Rémi swung the wheel hard to the right. "I'M TRY-"

The sedan narrowly missed the figure, only to crash headfirst into absolutely nothing.

*     *     *      END OF CHAPTER 1      *     *     *

[esselley]

Kinktober #12: Tentacles

Space AU is back, but this can be read stand alone! There is no justification for Kageyama and Hinata going on a first contact mission because they’d both be terrible at it, so this AU is now 100% comedy. Oikawa is fucking off and cackling in the background somewhere At All Times

“So, let me get this straight,” Second Officer Kageyama says, arms folded across his chest.

Behind him, Second Second Officer Hinata heroically clutches Kageyama’s sleeve, scooting as close to him as he can get. They are standing in the middle of a room that appears to have no walls, ceiling, or floor—the space around them is brilliantly white, glowing. The only way Kageyama knows it’s a room, and not an endless void, is that they came through a door to get inside. But as soon as the door closed, it blended seamlessly into the wall, leaving them in this odd space that makes him feel as though he is floating, despite feeling solid ground beneath his feet.

Their mission was to make first contact with the dominant sentient species on the planet, to see if a relationship between humankind and these aliens could be fostered. They are a strange, hivemind-like species, their thoughts and emotions all interconnected. Kageyama believes it to be possible, based on his first interactions. They haven’t seen one of the aliens yet—apparently, physical movement is hard for them, and so everything on the planet is automated (or perhaps controlled telepathically—Kageyama isn’t sure). But the aliens are intelligent, hospitable, and polite.

They are also very curious—and after providing the earthlings with food and refreshment, appear to have a few requests.

“You’re asking us to have sex with each other?” Kageyama asks. Just to clarify.

Yes!

The voice wobbles out from seemingly nowhere and everywhere. Kageyama knows it must be the voice of one of their hosts. It sounds very excited, or as excited as a species that is used to inflecting all of its meaning through thought can sound. Quickly, however, it backtracks.

That is only—of course—if you would be willing. I do not wish to impose! We merely are very interested in the mechanics of human coupling.

Kageyama massages his temples. He doesn’t want to offend the aliens during their very first contact, but this type of request…

“Sure!” pipes up a voice from behind him. “We don’t mind!”

Kageyama turns, slowly, to face Hinata. Hinata looks at him blankly.

“What?” he asks. “We don’t mind, right?”

Under his breath, Kageyama hisses, “Are you stupid? Yes, of course we mind!”

“What?!” Hinata yelps. “Why?! We do it all the time!”

“Not in front of—” Kageyama looks around the room, and then hopelessly waves his hands in the air. “And we’re on a mission—”

“What about that time when we were sent to collect samples from that underwater forest—”

“That’s different,” Kageyama grits out.

“Or the time we were like, bees, on that planet with the pollen and all the pink—”

“That was—unintentional!” Kageyama snaps. “Anyways, the point is—”

Our newest friends, please, we do not wish to sow discord—

“No discord!” Hinata says, holding up his hands placatingly. He turns back to Kageyama. “Tobio, come onnnn.”

“I can’t believe—how is this even something you are fine with?” Kageyama asks him, at a loss. “Why is it something you are contemplating?”

Hinata shuffles his feet. He bites his lip and looks up at Kageyama. “It sounds kinda kinky?”

Roughly four minutes later, Kageyama finds himself wondering how and why such a large portion of his job has become finding himself in naked, slippery situations with Hinata.

He only wonders briefly, because it’s hard to think much about anything beyond how good it feels when Hinata deepthroats him.

Fascinating… the larger human has moved beyond the realm of verbal communication…

Hinata pinches Kageyama’s thigh and Kageyama jerks, his hips jumping. Hinata chokes good-naturedly. When he pulls off, his lips are pink and swollen.

“Kageyama, did you hear that?” he asks, grinning. “I’ve moved you beyond the realm of—”

“I’m going to taser you,” Kageyama tells him. Anyone would be unable to talk with their dick that far down Hinata’s throat. It’s not like he’s the only one. “I’m ready, hurry up—”

Hinata has been making himself useful in more ways than one, fingering Kageyama while he sucked him off. The aliens had provided lube, a small container of it that had risen up next to them from the floor of the room. Hinata had been less than cautious about slathering it all over his fingers, and inside Kageyama’s butt, but they’re both still alive, so Kageyama figures it’s fine.

“Jeez, Kageyama,” Hinata says, “it’s not fun if you’re rushing me!” But he’s still quite eager, shoving off his own pants to reveal he’s already hard. Even though everything happening is weird, Kageyama still can’t stop himself from licking his lips, hips wriggling. Hinata is… the stuff he does with Hinata is good.

Hinata crawls over top of him, grinning down in that stupid… attractive way that he has, the I’m so excited we’re fucking each other grin he gets whenever Kageyama gives in to his whims. Kageyama glares up at him, even as he reaches up to encircle Hinata with his arms.

He groans when Hinata pushes into him, clinging to him tighter. Initially, he had skittered around the idea of Hinata fucking him, because Hinata’s ego inflated in tandem with his sex drive, and Kageyama had absolutely not wanted to deal with that. He’d had to cave, eventually, because Hinata turns out to be actually incredible at fucking him. Unfortunately.

Kageyama drags his fingers down Hinata’s back, gasping every time Hinata drives his cock home. Being observed by an indeterminate amount of aliens does absolutely nothing to slow his building orgasm.

This is most unexpected. Even though one of the humans is clearly larger, he appears to be the receptacle for the other human’s sexual apparatus. In this instance, the larger human fulfills the role of the “uke”.

Kageyama blinks. What?

Incredible! Even though the smaller one seemed more timid earlier. I do not want to make any radical claims, but it is possible our assumptions about the humans sexual functions were incorrect, or at least unclear…

“W-wait,” Kageyama pants, and Hinata stops, expression questioning. “No, not you—”

“Okay!” Hinata says happily, and resumes plowing him. Kageyama arches his back and swallows a moan.

“H-hang on—no, I’m still talking to them, Hinata—w-what did you just say?”

Regarding what?

“What did you call me?” Kageyama asks. He feels like he must have misheard, because there’s no way… “You said I fulfill the role of…”

The uke!

Kageyama screws up his face in confusion. “What?!”

It is true, is it not? You are the one being penetrated—I believe colloquially: receiving a dicking.

Hinata has noticed the conversation now. He sputters. “How—”

The small orange penetrates you—therefore, he is the “seme”.

“How do you even know—” Kageyama wheezes. “Okay, no! No.”

He is not the seme?

“Yeah, I am!” Hinata huffs immediately. His face is pink with exertion.

“You wish you were—” Kageyama growls.

Are you both the seme?

“No one—” Kageyama starts to say forcefully, and then forces himself to calm down. Captain Oikawa’s voice is like a siren in his head. Do not yell at the aliens we are trying to befriend for the good of humanity. “No one is the seme.”

Long silence.

…Are you both the uke—

“NO,” Kageyama bellows. “No one is either of those things! They’re not—where are you getting this from? Why are you asking us this?!”

It is the topic of my research assignment on human behavioral habits! I am focusing primarily on the mating patterns of humans. I have gathered my knowledge from your most valuable cultural annals.

“Oh my gosh,” Hinata says, both winded and excited. “Kageyama! They already knew about us!”

Kageyama experiences a profound and sinking feeling of dread. “What cultural annals are those?”

Your people’s history! The hentai.

“They already knew about us because of porn!” Hinata says, sounding impossibly more delighted. “I need to say something more seme-like. Uhhh—”

“Don’t.” Kageyama attempts to head him off.

“Kageyama, you need to take responsibility,” Hinata says, his voice falsely deep. “For being so cute.”

“God dammit, Hinata,” Kageyama says, exhaling heavily through his nose. “Also, you’re already in me, so I am taking responsibility. You suck at this. You suck at being a seme.”

“I do not—”

Humans, we have another request!

Kageyama is not inclined to listen to the aliens’ newest request, having just found out that he is little more than Figure A in somebody’s book report. Hinata, of course, feels differently.

“What can we do to help?” he asks brightly. He circles his hips slowly inside of Kageyama at the same time, which effectively destroys Kageyama’s ability to argue. Little shit.

We wish to engage with you in a more direct manner. But we understand it is important to acquire permission!

Hinata looks down at Kageyama and wiggles his eyebrows. “Kinkier.”

Kageyama sighs. “Sure. Why not?”

Of course, this is what leads to tentacles.

Kageyama doesn’t know if they actually belong to the aliens. He doesn’t know if they’re possibly engineered to be pleasant to humans, or if it’s just a fortunate happenstance. The point (the problem) is: it feels amazing.

“Ohhhh my god,” Hinata moans. “Oh, god, that—that’s really—ahh—nnnh—”

One of the tentacles has slicked him up and entered him from behind. He’s still inside Kageyama, but his thrusting has turned languid and slow as he rocks forward into Kageyama, then backwards to fuck himself on the thick, purple appendage.

Kageyama is again past words. Strictly speaking, this should not be how this particular mission went—but, fuck, if he can’t find it in himself to be upset about it anymore. He rolls his hips helplessly, sucks at one of the little tentacles that has curiously quested into his mouth—whatever secretion it oozes is faintly fruity and sweet. Another tentacle has found his cock and wrapped around it, squeezing and stroking in time with Hinata’s thrusts. It tingles a little bit, a barely-there pulse that feels amazing on his tongue and the hot skin of his dick.

My research in this area has been more than adequate! It seems true that “consentacles” are, for humans, indeed quite pleasurable.

“Quite pleasurable” is putting it mildly. When Hinata comes, he can’t hold back a cry—his fingers scrabble and then grip tight against Kageyama’s hips as he fills him up, and Kageyama can’t help but follow shortly after. It’s an orgasm that shakes him to his very core, makes him just a little hazier than usual. Not quite hazy enough that he doesn’t notice one of the tentacles discreetly scooping up some of the cum off his stomach to deposit into a conveniently appearing container of some sort.

But, he lets it slide. It was a good orgasm, after all. And they’re trying to work with the aliens, here.

The aliens give them time to collect themselves, and little bowls of water and towels (pre-heated… considerate) to clean and dry themselves with. Hinata is practically glowing afterwards, as they say their goodbyes. It won’t be a permanent farewell—this has been, somehow, a successful liaison for earth.

They arrive back on the ship looking quite pleased with themselves and no worse for wear. Iwaizumi, the ship’s first officer, is there to greet them.

“Ah, Kageyama, Hinata,” he says, “status report?”

“The miss—” Kageyama begins, but Hinata sidesteps in front of him like an overexcited pigeon.

“The mission went well!” he says brightly. Kageyama puts a hand on his face and shoves him back out of the way.

“Quite—well,” he says. “I’m sure we can proceed to further encounters with the planet natives. They were really… welcoming.”

“Fantastic,” Iwaizumi says. “I’ll notify Oikawa.” 

“Understood,” Kageyama says. “Although, uh—”

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t question him. Yet. “A full report by 0900 hours tomorrow would be great.”

“Understood,” Kageyama says again. They watch Iwaizumi make his way out of the rendezvous room.

“Are you gonna put it in your report that you’re the uke, Kagyama?” Hinata asks.

Without blinking, Kageyama puts him in a headlock. “I’m going to put you in a trash compactor.” 

He has got to figure out a way to keep Oikawa from seeing this report.

More Kinktober? Here’s some more close encounters of the sexy kind!