#top rated agent

[inspector-montoya-fox]

What is your ideal breakfast meal?

excellent question thank you for asking! honestly i am very much a pastry h0Ǝ. yeap no doubt about it. give me a pain au chocolat, give me a croissant with mascarpone filling, give me a nice flaky tiropita with some feta. pair it with coffee and we're good to go

[crown-funding-mortgage-broker]

Top-Rated Mortgage Brokers: Crown Funding Leads the Way in Surrey and Beyond

For anyone seeking a reliable mortgage broker, finding a top-rated professional is essential to navigating competitive rates and favorable terms. Crown Funding has emerged as a trusted name in this industry, connecting clients with the best mortgage brokers in Surrey and beyond. Here, we'll explore what makes a mortgage broker top-rated, including essential qualities, types of services, and why Crown Funding stands out as a private mortgage broker in Surrey, BC, and across Canada.

Understanding the Role of a Mortgage Broker

A top-rated mortgage broker is more than just an intermediary between lenders and borrowers. They offer invaluable market insights, negotiate favorable rates, and simplify complex financial decisions.

Why Choose a Mortgage Broker?

Choosing a mortgage broker instead of going directly to a lender can give you access to a broader range of options. For those specifically looking for a mortgage broker in Surrey, BC, Crown Funding offers tailored solutions that meet diverse needs.

What Sets the Best Mortgage Brokers Apart?

Not all mortgage brokers are created equal. Crown Funding, for example, prides itself on a client-centered approach.

Client-Focused Guidance: Brokers like Crown Funding prioritize individual needs over rigid lending criteria.

Extensive Lender Network: Access to a wide array of lenders, including private options.

Transparency: A hallmark of the best mortgage broker in Surrey and nationwide, transparency builds trust and ensures clients understand their mortgage terms.

Types of Mortgage Brokers – Finding the Right Fit

Top-rated mortgage brokers come in different specialties, from traditional to private lending services.

Traditional vs. Private Mortgage Brokers

In Canada, private mortgage brokers offer distinct advantages for clients who may not qualify for traditional loans. Crown Funding provides a reliable option for those searching for a private mortgage broker near me, ensuring flexible solutions tailored to unique circumstances.

Crown Funding – A Top Choice for Mortgage Broker Services in Surrey, BC

Located in Surrey, BC, Crown Funding has earned its reputation as a top choice for mortgage brokerage services. Here’s how they stand out:

Personalized Financial Planning: Each client receives an individualized approach.

Knowledge of Surrey’s Market: Their team has an intimate understanding of the local market, making them the best mortgage broker in Surrey for competitive rates and practical solutions.

Accessible Solutions: For those seeking a private mortgage broker Canada can rely on, Crown Funding offers both accessibility and transparency.

Advantages of Choosing a Private Mortgage Broker

A private mortgage broker in Canada provides alternative solutions outside traditional banking limits. Crown Funding caters to clients with various financial backgrounds, offering:

Greater Flexibility: Less stringent approval requirements.

Speedy Processing: Private brokers often process applications more quickly.

Adaptable Terms: Ideal for those who may have complex financial situations.

Conclusion

Selecting a top-rated mortgage broker like Crown Funding can make a significant difference in achieving your property goals. For anyone seeking the best mortgage broker in Surrey or a private mortgage broker near me in Canada, Crown Funding offers the expertise, accessibility, and dedication needed for a seamless mortgage experience. Whether you’re a first-time buyer or refinancing, Crown Funding provides unmatched service to help clients secure the best terms.

[wealthifyme]

What Are the Benefits of NFO as per a Mutual Fund Distributor in Faridabad?

Most people are not aware that new fund offerings (NFOs) can be a great way to start their mutual fund investment journey. This is where a mutual fund distributor in Faridabad steps in, helping investors understand why NFOs can be a valuable option. NFOs give investors a chance to invest in a new mutual fund at its initial offer price, typically ₹10 per unit, which can be a compelling entry point.

What is an NFO?

An NFO (New Fund Offer) is the first-time sale of units in a new mutual fund scheme by an asset management company (AMC). During the NFO period, the fund is offered to investors at a fixed price. After this initial period, the fund units can be bought or sold at the market-determined Net Asset Value (NAV).

Benefits of Investing in an NFO

Low Initial Investment Price: NFOs offer units at a fixed price, usually ₹10 per unit, allowing investors to buy more units initially. If the fund performs well, this can lead to higher returns over time. If you wish to know more, reach out to an AMFI registered mutual fund distributor in Faridabad, like WealthifyMe.

Potential for Growth: NFOs often focus on emerging sectors, giving investors a chance to participate in early-stage growth, which can lead to significant returns in the long run.

Portfolio Diversification: NFOs introduce unique strategies or sectors not available in existing funds, helping investors diversify their portfolios across different market segments.

Innovative Strategies: Many NFOs focus on trending sectors like technology or renewable energy, offering fresh opportunities that traditional funds may not.

Tailored Investment Solutions: NFOs are often designed to meet specific investor needs, and mutual fund distributors can help match the right NFOs to individual financial goals.

Professional Management: NFOs are managed by experienced fund managers who use their expertise to make the most of market opportunities.

Exposure to Untapped Markets: NFOs can target sectors or regions not covered by existing funds, offering investors new opportunities for growth.

Tax Benefits: Certain NFOs, such as ELSS, provide tax deductions under Section 80C, offering both investment growth and tax savings.

Conclusion

NFOs are a great investment option for people who wish to make the most of new opportunities in the market. While NFOs may not always guarantee immediate returns, they provide the potential for long-term growth, especially when aligned with emerging trends or niche sectors.

[handyhubb2]

The Ultimate Guide to Choosing the Best Commercial Real Estate Agent

When it comes to commercial real estate, whether you’re buying, selling, or leasing, having the right real estate agent by your side can make all the difference. Commercial transactions are often complex, involving larger sums of money and intricate legal requirements. The stakes are high, and that’s why it’s crucial to find the best commercial real estate agent who can navigate these challenges with expertise.

What Makes a Great Commercial Real Estate Agent?

1. Deep Market Knowledge

A top-rated commercial real estate agent possesses extensive knowledge of the local market. They understand the trends, property values, and emerging opportunities within the area. Whether you’re looking for office space, retail locations, or industrial properties, they should be able to provide insights that will help you make an informed decision.

2. Strong Network and Connections

In commercial real estate, relationships matter. The best agents have a vast network of contacts, including property owners, developers, investors, and other real estate professionals. This network can give you access to off-market deals and opportunities that aren’t available to the general public.

3. Negotiation Skills

Commercial real estate deals often involve complex negotiations. From securing the best lease terms to closing a multimillion-dollar sale, your agent’s negotiation skills can significantly impact the outcome. Look for an agent who has a proven track record of successfully negotiating on behalf of their clients.

4. Specialization in Commercial Real Estate

While some agents handle both residential and commercial properties, it’s advantageous to work with someone who specializes in commercial real estate. These agents are more likely to have the specific expertise needed to address the unique challenges and opportunities of commercial transactions.

5. Client-Centric Approach

The best commercial real estate agents put their clients’ needs first. They take the time to understand your business goals and work diligently to find properties that align with your objectives. Whether you’re a small business owner or a large corporation, your agent should be committed to helping you achieve the best possible outcome.

How to Find Top-Rated Realtors Near You

Finding a top-rated commercial real estate agent near you involves a bit of research. Here are some steps to help you identify the right professional for your needs:

1. Ask for Referrals

Start by asking for recommendations from other business owners, colleagues, or industry contacts. Referrals can provide valuable insights into an agent’s performance and reliability.

2. Check Online Reviews

Online platforms such as Google, Yelp, and specialized real estate websites often feature reviews and ratings for realtors. Look for agents with consistently high ratings and positive feedback from their clients.

3. Evaluate Their Experience

When researching agents, pay close attention to their experience, particularly in the commercial sector. An agent who has successfully closed multiple commercial deals in your area is likely to have the expertise you need.

4. Interview Multiple Agents

Don’t settle for the first agent you come across. Interview several candidates to gauge their knowledge, communication skills, and overall compatibility with your goals. Ask them about their experience with similar properties, their approach to negotiations, and how they plan to meet your specific needs.

5. Verify Credentials

Ensure that the agent you choose is licensed and in good standing with the relevant real estate board. You can also check if they have any additional certifications or designations that indicate a higher level of expertise in commercial real estate.

Why Hiring the Best Matters

In the world of commercial real estate, hiring the best agent isn’t just about convenience; it’s about ensuring the success of your transaction. A skilled agent can save you time, reduce risks, and help you secure the best possible deal, whether you’re buying, selling, or leasing property. They act as your advocate, using their market knowledge, network, and negotiation skills to deliver results that align with your business goals.

If you’re looking for top-rated realtors near you, take the time to do your research and choose a commercial real estate agent who has the expertise, experience, and client-centric approach to guide you through the process. With the right professional by your side, you can navigate the complexities of commercial real estate with confidence and achieve your business objectives.

[ulkaralakbarova]

In a last-ditch effort to save his career, sports agent JB Bernstein dreams up a wild game plan to find Major League Baseball’s next great pitcher from a pool of cricket players in India. He soon discovers two young men who can throw a fastball but know nothing about the game of baseball. Or America. It’s an incredible and touching journey that will change them all — especially JB, who learns valuable lessons about teamwork, commitment and family. Credits: TheMovieDb. Film Cast: J. B. Bernstein: Jon Hamm Tom House: Bill Paxton Brenda Paauwe: Lake Bell Rinku: Suraj Sharma Ash Vasudevan: Aasif Mandvi Dinesh: Madhur Mittal Amit: Pitobash Ray Arkin: Alan Arkin Lisette: Bar Paly Pete: Al Sapienza Chang: Tzi Ma Theresa: Allyn Rachel Indian Reporter: Ravi Naidu Hot Girl: Gabriela Lopez Basketball Player (uncredited): Tanner Anderson Scout: Tom Verducci Mark: Brett Zimmerman Film Crew: Editor: Tatiana S. Riegel Music: A. R. Rahman Casting Director: Sheila Jaffe Supervising Sound Editor: Mark P. Stoeckinger First Assistant Director: Mike Topoozian Screenplay: Tom McCarthy Production Design: Barry Robison Producer: Joe Roth Director of Photography: Gyula Pados Director: Craig Gillespie Costume Designer: Kirston Leigh Mann Set Decoration: Jeanette Scott Producer: Mark Ciardi Producer: Gordon Gray Co-Producer: Tabrez Noorani Unit Production Manager: Kevin Halloran Co-Producer: Neil Mandt Executive Producer: Palak Patel Executive Producer: Connor Schell Art Direction: Jeremy Woolsey Executive Producer: Bill Simmons Casting Director: Seher Aly Latif Sound Designer: Alan Rankin Music Supervisor: Jon Mooney Hair Department Head: Theraesa Rivers Key Hair Stylist: Arturo Rojas Key Makeup Artist: Ron Pipes Second Assistant Director: Michael McCue Co-Producer: Michael Mandt Makeup Department Head: Lana Horochowski Visual Effects Supervisor: Sean Thigpen Movie Reviews: r96sk: I can’t say there is anything overly noteworthy about ‘Million Dollar Arm’. but it’s well paced and features a great (true) story – it makes for a very enjoyable 124 minutes. Jon Hamm is a good choice to play lead character JB, he does carry the film with his performance. There are other pleasant performances though, Pitobash Tripathy (Amit) stands out most from those behind Hamm. Bill Paxton (Tom), Lake Bell (Brenda), Suraj Sharma (Rinku) and Madhur Mittal (Dinesh) merit props too. It’s a feel-good premise, one that is rather nice to see play out. The score is solid, as is the cinematography. It’s a positive that they spend a decent chunk of the film actually in India, I had a inkling they might’ve skipped it but thankfully they do not – they tell the story well. It’s probably Disneyfied in ways, but who cares. It isn’t anything necessarily special, but I certainly thoroughly enjoyed this. Recommended.

[dubaiapartments]

SAMANA BARARI TWIN TOWERS

DUBAI REAL ESTATE

Live in harmony with nature. SAMANA Barari Twin Towers offers nature-infused living combined with cutting-edge technology, modern design, and exclusive amenities. Surrounded by lush vegetation, this green haven reflects a commitment to an environmentally friendly way of life.

Imagine stepping out your door and into a world of vibrant greens. Picture your children playing amidst cascading plants and towering trees, the sounds of nature a calming melody in the background. This isn't just a dream; it's the reality at SAMANA Barari Twin Towers.

These luxurious residences go beyond stunning architecture and unparalleled comfort. They offer a lifestyle philosophy centered on well-being and a deep connection with the natural world. Breathe in the fresh air, awaken your senses to the symphony of birdsong, and find peace in the gentle sway of leaves.

But SAMANA Barari Twin Towers isn't just about nature. It's about a seamless blend of the organic and the innovative. State-of-the-art technology seamlessly integrates into your living space, while modern design complements the natural beauty that surrounds you. Imagine relaxing in your living room, bathed in sunlight filtering through floor-to-ceiling windows, while you control your smart home features with a simple voice command.

This isn't just a place to live; it's a place to thrive. Enjoy exclusive amenities that cater to your every need, from a sparkling pool overlooking the verdant landscape to a state-of-the-art fitness center. Unwind in a community designed for relaxation and connection, where families can create lasting memories.

Join GoGold Real Estate in creating a better future. By choosing SAMANA Barari Twin Towers, you're not just investing in a luxurious home, you're investing in a sustainable lifestyle for yourself and your family. Here, in "The City of Gold," discover your own piece of paradise, a haven of tranquility amidst the urban bustle. Don't just dream of a life infused with nature – live it at SAMANA Barari Twin Towers.

REAL ESTATE SEO STRATEGIST EMEA Predrag Petrovic

[teamhilson]

Team Hilson: Your Source for the Top Real Estate Agents in Milton, Ontario 

Discover the cream of the crop in Milton, Ontario's real estate market with Team Hilson. Our top real estate agents in Milton Ontario are dedicated to helping you find your dream home or sell your property for the best possible price. Trust Team Hilson for unparalleled local expertise and exceptional service. 

[lilgynt]

champion really smacked my shit around today

[spencerreidenjoyer]

guess | spencer reid x reader

wc: 2.3k, rating: explicit/18+

tags/warnings: slight exhibitionism/voyeurism, alcohol consumption (reader is not drunk during sex), lingerie, munch!spencer, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

a/n: heavily inspired by guess by charli xcx ft. billie eilish, specifically billie's verse. yes the song dropped yesterday. yes i listened to the song once and decided to write a fic about it. i'm insane about s7/8 reid rn so :) (also posted on ao3!)

You swear you don’t mean to show off, but the miniskirt you’re in doesn’t help your case in the slightest.

Spencer had told you to join him at the bar for drinks with his coworkers, the bar just a couple blocks down from the club you were at with your friends. Your boyfriend had been away for most of this week and you really wanted to see him, so you don’t think twice about popping by to see Spencer. Besides, you hadn’t seen Penelope, JJ and Emily in a while either, and those girls treat you too kindly.

You realise how skimpily dressed you are when you walk into the bar, though, when you approach the very properly-dressed group of FBI agents at a booth in the corner. Your top is cropped and low-cut, revealing your cleavage, and you were wearing a little black miniskirt, the hem of which barely skirted the tops of your thighs.

Spencer has never commented on your fashion choices, often being the very satisfied recipient of your sometimes revealing outfits. But as you greet the BAU, his eyes are dark and hungry as they roam your figure. You smile at him with a whispered “Hi, baby,” before you kiss him chastely. The look on Spencer’s face is unreadable, other than the fact that you know he appreciates the view.

His gaze darts up at Derek from across the booth when he whistles at you.

“Looking good, mama.” Derek waggles his eyebrows at you, earning him a smack to the chest from Penelope and a hearty chuckle from Emily.

You lean over to hug JJ, Penelope and Emily in that order on the other side of the table, and you feel Spencer’s hand quickly snake across your waist, pulling you back to sit down. You glance over at him briefly, but he only keeps his gaze straight ahead.

“You are one lucky guy, Reid,” Emily laughs, and you feel Spencer’s arm curl around you tighter, pulling you in closer.

The rest of the night is pretty fun, cracking jokes and talking with Spencer’s team, but with the alcohol in your system from earlier, it only takes a few more drinks for you to get drunk. You’re extra giggly, half-sitting in Spencer’s lap, his hand not leaving your side. You feel the rumble in his chest when he speaks, saying, “I think we’re going to head home first. This one here seems a little drunk already.”

“I’m not drunk,” you lilt, rolling your eyes. You lay your head on Spencer’s shoulder, blinking hard before you meet Penelope’s gaze. You hear Emily defending you about how you aren’t drunk, but Penelope smiles at you and says, “I think boy genius is right.”

You frown deeply, almost comically so. “Penny! You’re supposed to back me up here!”

Penelope laughs, always so kind to you. “Come on, honey. Let Reid take you home.”

You huff, crossing your arms like a petulant child. You don’t notice the way Spencer’s gaze darts down to your chest shamelessly. Derek whistles, and you assume Spencer must glare at him because Derek is raising his hands in surrender, telling Spencer he doesn’t mean anything. What were they even talking about? You don’t know, but Spencer is murmuring in your ear about getting a taxi home, and after you say goodbye to all of his friends, you’re letting him guide you out of the bar and into the cool night.

You shiver, the very little fabric you have on not doing you any favours when the temperature drops. Spencer is quick to shrug off his jacket and help you put it on. His jacket is long enough on you, considering Spencer’s height, to cover your skirt.

“I swear alcohol’s supposed to warm you up,” you grumble, holding your arms close to your chest as you try to stay warm. “I’m fucking freezing.”

“You feel warmer for a bit because the alcohol is a vasodilator – it causes the blood vessels under your skin to dilate, increasing blood flow, which makes you feel warmer. If you drink more, the higher levels of alcohol actually work to shrink your blood vessels instead and make you feel cold. Do you have a headache?”

You shake your head, but take the chance to snuggle up to Spencer now. “You feel nice and warm.”

“Good,” Spencer says, holding you close. In no time, he flags down a taxi, and you two pile in and drive towards his apartment.

Spencer’s hand is drawing circles into the side of your thigh, mindless, but the touch is incredibly distracting. You ask him softly, “You’ve been touching me all night, Spence. Something on your mind?”

“You,” he whispers back. “Can’t stop thinking about your underwear.”

You squeak at his brazenness, smacking his chest. “You– Spencer!”

“I got a good look when you were practically bent over the table just now,” Spencer continues, his voice a low rumble in his throat. “Didn’t even give me a chance to guess.”

You gape at him like a fish, but Spencer smiles and murmurs in your ear, “You know how much I love when you wear that lacy black pair.”

You bite down on your lip, trying not to moan like a whore in the back of this taxi. You just look at him, silently wishing he’d do something. Spencer presses a kiss to your jaw, and you feel your cheeks heat.

Thankfully, the driver is quick to announce that you’re at your destination, and you and Spencer stumble out of the cab quicker than you’d like to admit. Spencer doesn’t even wait for his change before he slams the car door shut.

Spencer crowds you against the back of the elevator, an old, rickety thing with no camera, so you feel less bad when Spencer slips his hand under your skirt and past your panties, his finger sliding between your wet folds. “Spencer!”

“You’re so wet for me already,” Spencer groans, kissing down your neck desperately. His fingers are so tantalising, rubbing up against your clit, your hole. “You’re so sexy.”

“Spencer,” you whine. “Hurry up and fuck me.”

The elevator doors creak open on Spencer’s floor. “Let’s go, then.”

Spencer barely locks the door behind you before he’s kissing you, eager and sloppy and desperate. It’s so hot, his large hands on your waist pulling you closer to him, and you feel the growing problem in the front of his pants.

“Spencer,” you moan. You feel his hands push up your skirt, feel him wedge his leg between your thighs. You must be soaked through your underwear by now, and you shamelessly rut your hips forward to grind against his leg.

“You know I love your fashion sense, my love, but this is slutty even for you.” Spencer’s voice is dark when he says it, and you whimper. “You’re dressed like you want somebody else’s attention.”

Your eyes widen and you look up at him. “No!”

“Derek was eyeing you like a piece of meat earlier. Emily, too.” Spencer frowns.

“I only want you, baby,” you insist, holding onto Spencer’s arms. “Only want you to notice me.”

“I am the only one who knows the colour of your underwear,” Spencer hums, his fingers skirting the waistband of your panties. “And fuck, you look good in them.”

“Please, Spence,” you whine, your plea lilting off into a gasp as Spencer lifts you, getting you to wrap his legs around him. You’d seen how he looked when he was younger, so scrawny he looked like he’d get swept away if the wind blew too hard, but now, he’s got more meat on his bones. His body is a pleasure to look at, let alone feel under your hands, which you’re happy to do now.

You touch the firm lines of his body through his shirt, as Spencer carries you to his bedroom. You mumble, hands frisky, “You’re so hot.”

“Says you,” Spencer smiles. “I’m going to make you feel so good, baby.”

You grin as he lays you on his bed, gasping when he slides his palm over your wet cunt through your underwear. His thumb flicks over your clit through the lace, the material dulling the electrifying sensation. you whine, “Spencer, please.”

Spencer tsks, looking down at you. “Let me take my time with you, darling. You’ve been teasing me all evening.”

He presses his thumb against your clit a little harder, making you moan loudly. While he tends to tower over you in bed, you also deeply appreciate the view of him getting on his knees so he can make a home between your thighs. His hair is wild, unruly, and you run your hand through it, admiring it. Keeping your gaze, Spencer leans down to kiss your pussy.

You feel his warm breath on you, the scratch of his stubble on your skin, pinned down simply by his gaze as his tongue darts out to lick you over your underwear. You whimper, as Spencer wraps his arms around each of your thighs, using you as an anchor as he presses his face between your legs.

You sob, because what Spencer’s giving you just isn’t enough, not when you need to feel his tongue on your cunt. He thumbs at your hole through the fabric, dipping into your wetness in a cruel approximation of the pleasure he usually gives you.

“Fuck me,” you groan. “Take my panties off already.”

“Not yet,” Spencer hums. Instead, he pushes your panties to the side, lets his fingers slide over your cunt. You gasp at the sensation, his rough, calloused fingers sliding over your wetness, and then you feel the warmth of his tongue.

The sounds his mouth makes as he eats you out are filthy, obscene. His tongue flicks over your cunt with a practised precision, familiar with what makes you tick, the wet, slick sounds too overwhelming. Your toes are curling with how good Spencer makes you feel – legs trembling, breathing heavy. You can’t stop the whimpers that leave your lips, almost helpless in the way you moan for him.

“Please,” your voice is shaky as you cry out for Spencer. “I need you so bad, baby."

Spencer hums against your cunt, the vibrations sending shocks up your spine in your pleasure. “Okay, my darling.”

Finally, finally, he’s sitting up and pulling your panties down, your little skirt still pushed up to expose your cunt. You look up at him, silently wondering why he hasn’t taken it off. He plays with the soft fabric in his hands almost absentmindedly and says, “I think we should keep it on.”

You blink up at him, not coherent enough to say anything about it. Instead, you watch him take his shirt off – you whistle at the sight, while he just rolls his eyes. He unbuckles his belt and push his pants down, his cock bobbing up, hard and red and leaky. You bite your lip, thinking about how he’ll feel inside of you.

“Kiss me,” you whine, and Spencer smiles at you. He tastes of you when his lips press against yours, and he’s quick to deepen it, his tongue in your mouth, like he's close to devouring you whole.

While he kisses you hungrily, you feel his hand between your legs, moving to line himself up with your entrance. You moan as the blunt head of his cock presses up against your hole, the sensation you’ve been craving all evening. Cruelly, he rubs up against you just like that, sliding between your folds but not giving you the satisfaction you need. You’re close to biting his head off.

“Spencer–” you start, but Spencer decides to press his cock into you right at that moment, and you sob with the way his thick length splits you open. Every time he fucks you, you feel like he was made for you, filling you up in all the right ways, feeling so perfect on top of you, inside of you.

You meet his lips and kiss him lazily as he starts to thrust into you, at the perfect pace, just deep enough to hit all the right spots. It’s too good, Spencer knowing you and your pleasure like the back of his hand.

“Fuck,” Spencer groans against your mouth, finally showing some sign of his unravelling. “You’re so tight, darling.”

You gasp, groaning his name, legs wrapped around his waist to pull him closer, feeling like you could fuse into one person with how much you’re clinging onto him. You press your forehead to his shoulder, moans punched out of you with every one of Spencer’s thrusts.

“Feels– Feels so good, Spence, love you,” you cry.

“I love you too,” Spencer groans, voice low and rumbly in his chest. “You’re so perfect, my love.”

You sob as your orgasm hits you, crashing into you like a tidal wave. You shake as you come, feeling so positively overwhelmed with the way Spencer fucks you, the way he holds you, the way he kisses you. You can’t feel your legs as you come down from your high, head spinning with all the pleasure. “Spence…”

“I’m– Fuck–” Spencer’s tripping over his own words as he comes right alongside you, your clenched pussy sending him over the edge too. He blows his load deep inside you, sticky and hot and so satisfying. You can feel how hard he’s breathing as your mind clears, his arms trembling as he holds himself up so he doesn’t end up collapsing onto you.

“You’re perfect,” you hum in Spencer’s ear, soft and gentle as you kiss the side of his head. You pull him in close, letting him rest his weight onto you, and your hand goes to stroke his hair softly. “So good. I love you.”

“Thank you. I love you more,” Spencer groans, his voice a little raspy already. “I’m sorry if I was too possessive over you in front of my friends tonight."

“All is forgiven, especially since you were sexy as fuck,” you grin up at him. “You’re always sexy.”

“Says the girl in a miniskirt and black lace panties.” Spencer smiles.

“All the more I know what I’m talking about, then,” you giggle, before kissing him slow.

[shivgarunproperties]

Top Rated Property Dealer in Palam, New Delhi | Best Property Dealer in Palam, New Delhi | Shiv Garun Properties & Finance

[gittavanbennekom]

Hunt Your New Property Flawlessly – Hire Real Estate Agent

Invest in the property that fits your interests and take the help of top-rated real estate agents for it. Spot your dream home at ease with the assistance of local agents with an effective database. The top-rated real estate agent understands the requirements of the buyer and presents the local options within budget. 

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[fratboykate]

I'm totally in support of the writers in theory but I'm trying to understand more of what you're fighting for because I've seen some people on twitter claim writers make more money a week than most of us make in a month so I'm trying to understand what the issue is. Also if that info is accurate. This is a genuine question. Not trying to have a "gotcha moment". I really want to hear from a writer.

people have always had wild misconceptions about how much a writer earns because of their lack of understanding of how the industry actually works. there's so many posts about how "you guys make 5k a week. what more do you want?!" yeah...let's do some math on that.

5k a week for 14 weeks (and that's a long room. a lot of rooms these days are 8-10 weeks. those are the dreaded mini-rooms we're trying to kill) is $70,000. for roughly three months of work. you'd think we're cooking with gas...BUT HOLD UP. that's gross! let's see everything that has to come out of that check:

10% to our agent

10% to our manager

5% to our entertainment attorney

5% to our business manager (not everyone has one but a lot of us do. i do, so that's literally 30% immediately off the top of every check)

most of these breakdowns ive seen downplay taxes severely. someone made one that says writers pay 5% in taxes and i would like to ask them "in what universe?". that doesn't even cover state taxes. the way taxes work in the industry is really complicated, but the short of it is most of us have companies for tax reasons so we aren't taxed like people on w2s/1099. if we did we'd be even more fucked. basically every production hires a writer's company instead of the writer as an individual. so they engage our companies for our services and then at the end of the year we (the company) pay taxes as corporations or llcs (depending on what the writer chose to go with). my company is registered as a "corporation" so let's go with those rates. california's corporate rate is 9% and the federal corporate tax rate is 21%. there's other expenses with running a business like fees and other shit so my business managers/accountants/bookkeepers have recommended i save between 35-40% of everything i make for when tax season comes.

you see where the math is at already??? 25-30% in commissions and then 35-40% in taxes. on the lower end you're at THE VERY LEAST looking at 60% of that check gone. 70% worst case scenario. suddenly those $70,000 people claim we make are actually down to $28,000 as the take home pay. and that's if you're only losing 60%. it goes down to $21,000 if it's 70%.

lets pretend you worked a long 14 week room (that's the longest room ive ever worked btw) and let's also be generous and say you only have 60% in expenses so the take home is $28,000. average rent in los angeles is around $2,800-$3,000. if you're paying $2,800 in rent that means you need AT LEAST $4,000 a month to have a semi decent life since you need to also cover groceries, gas, medical expenses, toiletries, phone, internet, utilities, rental and car insurances, car payments, student loan payments, etc etc etc. and again, this is los angeles. everything is more expensive so you're living BARE BONES on 4k. and these are numbers as a single person. im not even taking having children into account. so those $28,000 you take home might cover your life for 6-7 months. 3 of which you're in the room working. the reality is that once that room ends, you might not work in a room again for 6-9-12 months (i have friends whose last jobs were over 18 months ago) and you now only have about 3 months left of savings to hold you over. we have to make that money stretch while we do all the endless free development we do for studios and until we get our next paying job. so...3 months left of enough money to cover your expenses -> possible 9 months of not having a job. this is how writers end up on food stamps or applying to work at target.

this is why we're fighting for better rates and better residuals. residuals were a thing writers used to rely on to get them through the unemployment periods. residual checks have gone down from 20k to $0.03 cents. im not joking.

they've decimated our regular pay and then destroyed residuals. we have nothing left. so don't believe it when they tell you writers are being greedy. writers are simply fighting to be able to make a middle class living. we're not asking them to become poor for our sake. we're asking for raises that amount to 2% of their profit. TWO PERCENT. this is a fight for writing even being a career in five years instead of something you do on the side while you work retail to pay your bills. if you think shows are bad now imagine when your writer has to do it as a hobby because they need a real job to pay their bills and support a family. (which none of us can currently afford to have btw)

support writers. stop being bootlickers for billion dollar corporations. stop caring about fictional people more than you care about the real people that write them. if we don't win this fight it truly is game over. the industry as you know it is gone.

[ulkaralakbarova]

A gangster, Nino, is in the Cash Money Brothers, making a million dollars every week selling crack. A cop, Scotty, discovers that the only way to infiltrate the gang is to become a dealer himself. Credits: TheMovieDb. Film Cast: Nino Brown: Wesley Snipes Scotty Appleton: Ice-T Garald “Gee Money” Welles: Allen Payne Pookie: Chris Rock Stone: Mario Van Peebles Selina: Michael Michele Duh Duh Duh Man: Bill Nunn Park: Russell Wong Old Man: Bill Cobbs Kareem Akbar: Christopher Williams Nick Peretti: Judd Nelson Keisha: Vanessa Williams Uniqua: Tracy Camilla Johns Frankie Needles: Anthony DeSando Reverend Oates: Nick Ashford Prosecuting Attorney Hawkins: Phyllis Yvonne Stickney Police Commissioner: Thalmus Rasulala Don Armeteo: John Aprea Master of Ceremonies: Fab 5 Freddy D.J.: Flavor Flav Frazier: Clebert Ford Prom Queen: Laverne Hart Fat Smitty: Eek-A-Mouse Biff: Gregg Smrz Teacher: Erica McFarquhar Singer at Wedding: Keith Sweat Gigantor: Max Rabinowitz Woman in Hallway: Marcella Lowery Judge: Manuel E. Santiago Prosecuting Attorney: Ben Gotlieb Reporter: Thelma Louise Carter Reporter: Linda Froehlich Bailiff: Christopher Michael Recovering Addict: Kelly Jo Minter Recovering Addict: Tina Lifford Recovering Addict: Erik Kilpatrick Assistant DA: Ron Millkie Kid on Stoop: Harold Baines Kid on Stoop: Sekou Campbell Kid on Stoop: Garvin Holder New Year’s Eve Band – (Guy): Teddy Riley New Year’s Eve Band – (Guy): Aaron Hall New Year’s Eve Band – (Guy): Damion Hall Singers – Spring – (Troop): Rodney Benford Singers – Spring – (Troop): John Harrell Singers – Winter – (Levert): Gerald Levert Singers – Winter – (Levert): Sean Levert Butchie The Doorman: Jimmy Cummings Courtroom Spectator (uncredited): Akosua Busia Prostitute in The Pool (uncredited): Lia Chang Gangster Standing at Bar (uncredited): Jake LaMotta Barber (uncredited): Larry M. Cherry Brides Maid (uncredited): Cynthia Elane Girl in the Window (uncredited): Toni Ann Johnson Connie The Waitress (uncredited): Candece Tarpley C.M.B. Member (uncredited): Chris Thornton Film Crew: Director: Mario Van Peebles Story: Thomas Lee Wright Music Supervisor: Doug McHenry Screenplay: Barry Michael Cooper Casting: Pat Golden Production Design: Charles C. Bennett Director of Photography: Francis Kenny Casting: John McCabe Editor: Steven Kemper Unit Production Manager: Preston L. Holmes Costume Design: Bernard Johnson Original Music Composer: Michel Colombier Music Supervisor: George Jackson Associate Producer: Fab 5 Freddy Associate Producer: Suzanne Broderick Associate Producer: James Bigwood First Assistant Director: Dwight Williams Stunt Coordinator: Jery Hewitt Stunts: Danny Aiello III Stunts: G. A. Aguilar Second Assistant Director: Joseph Ray Production Supervisor: Brent Owens First Assistant Editor: Kevin Stitt Camera Operator: John Newby First Assistant Camera: Gregory Irwin Second Assistant Camera: Myra-Lee Cohen Additional Camera: Ed Hershberger Steadicam Operator: Ted Churchill Production Sound Mixer: Frank Stettner Boom Operator: Keith Gardner Cableman: Rosa Howell-Thornhill Art Direction: Barbra Matis Art Direction: Laura Brock Art Department Coordinator: Roberta J. Holinko Set Decoration: Elaine O’Donnell Script Supervisor: Cornelia ‘Nini’ Rogan Makeup Artist: Diane Hammond Assistant Makeup Artist: Ellie Winslow Hairstylist: Larry M. Cherry Hairstylist: Aaron F. Quarles Wardrobe Supervisor: Barbara Hause Wardrobe Supervisor: Jane E. Myers Wardrobe Assistant: Jill E. Anderson Gaffer: Charles Houston Rigging Gaffer: Martin Andrews Best Boy Electric: Val DeSalvo Key Grip: Robert M. Andres Best Boy Grip: Paul Wachter Dolly Grip: Tom Kudlek Property Master: Octavio Molina Assistant Property Master: Laura Jean West Assistant Property Master: Kevin Ladson Charge Scenic Artist: Jeffrey L. Glave Construction Coordinator: Raymond M. Samitz Special Effects Supervisor: Steven Kirshoff Special Effects Coordinator: Wilfred Caban Second Unit Director: Jeff Lengyel Second Unit Director of Photography: Jacek Laskus Second Unit First Assistant D...

[thewidowsledger]

Who Do I Look Out For?

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Word count: 5.7k

Pairings: Avenger Natasha Romanoff x Agent Female Reader

Tags | Warnings: +18, fluff & angst combo but mostly angst, Natasha has a penis, pregnant reader, traumatized Natty, smut, mutual masturbation, top!Natasha, bottom!reader, soft sex (yes please), grief...not gonna tell you everything sorry…

Author's Note: Finally! First series done! Thank you for keeping up with this one y'all, I hope y'all will still keep up with my next fics after what I did here...this is actually not the plot I originally planned but I liked how this one turned out, I love y'all hehe don't hate me👉👈

MINI SERIES: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

⧗

“Natasha I am here, baby’s here.” Gently, you pulled away. You took her hand and placed it on your swollen belly.

Her hand on your stomach trembled as she felt the warmth of your skin and the life growing inside you. Slowly, her other hand reached up to cradle your face, her fingers gently stroking your cheek. You leaned your forehead against her.

“Feel me, I’m here.”

⧗

You both made your way through the grocery store, Natasha was behind you making sure she could see you but there was a noticeable distance between you and her, as always Natasha thought. You stayed a few steps behind her when she dragged a cart near the counter and hardly spoke. But Natasha made sure to check on you, she glanced over her shoulder at you a few times, but you were lost in your thoughts, seemingly oblivious to her concerned gazes.

As you continued to follow Natasha through the aisles, your eyes were uncontrollably drawn to anything related to strawberries. You began gathering every strawberry product you laid eyes on, strawberry yogurt, strawberry jam, dried strawberries, even a strawberry candle–and placed them in the cart.

“At this rate, we'll need an entire fridge just for strawberry products,” she joked, nervous if you're going to respond or not but to her surprise, you did.

“Mhm,” came your brief, yet music to Natasha's ears. Even that simple sound of response was enough to bring a smile to her face, just a monosyllabic response felt like a small victory for her. It’s been getting hard for her to read you, one second you’ll talk to her and then in a snap you won’t. What’s worse is that most of the time you really won’t.

Natasha watched you from a small distance as you searched for any strawberry related product, her smile widening each time you found a new item to add to the cart. Though you had been distant lately, this moment felt like a return to normal, if only for a brief while. She enjoyed seeing you so animated and distracted, even if it was only over something as piffling as strawberries. Natasha found herself secretly hoping this mood would last a little longer.

Your eyes locked onto a carton of strawberry juice box that seemed to taunt you from the top shelf, just out of your reach. With a determined look on your face, you rose on your tiptoes, attempting to stretch as far as possible to grab it. But as you did, your protruding baby bump proved to be stopping you, preventing you from reaching it.

You were about to call for Natasha when you noticed a woman talking to her—a striking beautiful woman.

As you observed the lady speaking to Natasha, a wave of insecurity washed over you. Her beauty and poise were undeniable and involuntarily, you found yourself comparing yourself to her in your mind.

You noticed her flawless skin, blonde long silky hair not like Thor though and she was wearing a tight dress that flexed the curve of her body. Against your own form–heavy with the weight of pregnancy and marked by the effects of hormones–and the overall feeling of being less physically attractive.

You couldn't help but be conscious of what you're wearing, you were just wearing a spaghetti strap, a long cotton cardigan jacket on top of it and a boho ruffled skirt. But you don't actually feel like it's about what you're wearing, you feel ugly.

As you continued to observe, your mind now focused on the interaction, it became clear that the woman was not just making casual conversation or maybe asking your girlfriend. Her body language was unmistakably flirty, leaning in, touching Natasha's arm and giving her a coy smile.

Your girlfriend, however, seemed oblivious to the woman's advances or chose to dismiss them. Her responses were polite but short and she subtly distanced herself whenever the woman tried to get too close. You actually hated your girlfriend for being like this, it happened many times already. When someone is trying to hit on her, she would either ignore or wait for you to come around to rescue her.

Natasha was trying to finish the conversation with the woman that she didn't even start, but when she sees you, it feels like being saved. She smiled, anticipating that you would add another strawberry item to the cart. However, her smile faded as she watched you place the kitchen knife in the cart instead. She shot a nervous glance at you as you pretended to fix the items you placed in the cart. Her heart rate slightly picked up in concern and fear.

The woman looked at you with a slightly stunned expression, as she saw the bump in your stomach. “Oh…” she muttered, the realization finally setting in. She turned back to Natasha, her tone apologetic.

“I didn't realize,” she offered awkwardly.

Oh, how you wish she realized that it was a knife that you put in the cart.

Meanwhile, Natasha, still somewhat oblivious to the woman's previous attempts to flirt, “I gotta go, that's my wife.”

“Oh…”

You were stunned in place as you heard Natasha speak those words. That’s my wife, each word rolling off her tongue effortlessly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to say. Despite your current status as girlfriends, hearing her declare you as her wife sent a rush of emotions through you. The insecurities that had been weighing heavily on your mind earlier seemed to melt away. You immediately walked out while your girlfriend quickly pushed the cart and hurried after you.

As you walked silently through the store, Natasha could sense that something was off with you, well, it has always been like this, nothing new. She still stayed a few steps behind you, giving you the space you needed, like she always does but she couldn't shake the feeling that she had done something wrong. She then stared at the knife you put on the cart and immediately fished it out and put it in the chip aisle before you could even catch her.

Natasha’s eyes pretended to wander around when you walked back at her only to be drawn to a baby section. She followed your every move as you walked through the aisle with a big smile. She was utterly smitten by you, her heart swelling with affection with every glance. Her gaze kept returning to your stomach, to the tiny bump that she noticed grew more prominent each day. Seeing the bump, the evidence of the life growing inside you, etched an even deeper love in her heart. You were carrying her child and it only made you more beautiful in her eyes.

You were perfect.

Natasha then felt a heatwave of longing as she watched you, the cardigan slipping from your shoulder, revealing the soft skin that she had once traced with her fingers and lips. And she coughed as she tried to avoid the thoughts.

It had been too long since she had touched you, too long that she could only recall in her mind the memories and images of you as she struggled to take care of herself alone. She yearned to feel you quiver beneath her once again, to hear the soft gasps that escaped your lips as she brought you to new heights. The way you would melt into her touch like warm wax, you letting her use you without hesitation. The way you would part your lips, your legs…

“Need help?”

Natasha was abruptly brought back to reality when she heard a man’s voice talking to you. She quickly made her way over to you and the stranger who had approached you.

“She's fine,” She then pointed to the item you were trying to reach and asked, “this one, baby? ”

You blinked and gave her a small nod before she reached up and grabbed the item you were trying to get, she placed it on the cart hand and immediately took your hand, pulling you away from the stranger. She finally let go of you when you turned from another aisle but her hand moved to the small of your back, guiding you gently possessively as she looked around the sign of the man.

She doesn't care now, she never made a bold move to touch you, the only time she can be close to you is when she gets to kiss your forehead every morning, she is done being subtle and holding back. She didn't care if she just invaded your space or her act seconds ago would irritate you like how you get irritated by her when she tries to come near your shared bed, because she wouldn't watch any man or anyone get too close with you.

As you turned a corner, you suddenly saw a group of young women who looked like they were still in college. They were all giggling and chatting with each other, and you couldn't help but feel self-conscious, again.

You immediately fidgeted, and pulled your cardigan wishing it would cover your upper body. Being overwhelmed at the situation, you decide that you're done for this day and you immediately head towards the checkout counter.

Natasha trailed behind you, pushing the shopping cart. When she notices your direction, she pipes up, “You're not gonna get anything more, baby?”

You pause for a moment before shaking your head, still feeling a bit insecure and not really in the mood to shop anymore. Natasha picks up on your body language, she notices that you're fidgeting with your cardigan, pulling it tightly around your body. It's a familiar gesture to her, one that you always do when you're feeling insecure.

After you finish paying for your items and the cashier bids you good day, Natasha turns to you with a concerned look on her face. She notices that you're still not quite yourself.

The drive back to the compound was mostly quiet. You sat in the passenger seat of the car, staring out the window, lost in your own thoughts. Natasha glanced over at you occasionally, but she could tell that you weren't quite ready to talk yet—as always.

As she drove, she put on the song “Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You” on the car stereo. The song was special for you because you both always danced together to it in the mornings or after missions when it’s just the two of you. As the song continued to play and your hormones were all over the place due to your pregnancy, making it difficult for you to control your emotions. You could feel your emotions getting the best of you, and you couldn't help but sniffle as tears streamed down your face. And you turned to look at the window to hide your ugly cry face as if your partner hadn't seen it for how long you have been together.

Natasha glanced over at you, noticing you sniffle every now and then but trying to keep her focus on the road. Without thinking, she reached over and took your hand in hers, bringing it to her lips and kissing it tenderly.

As she continued to kiss your hand, Natasha was surprised when you didn't pull it away. Normally, you would have pushed her away when she tried to touch you when you weren't in the mood to be touched, which is most of the time you weren't. However, this time, you let her keep your hand in her lips as she hummed along with the song.

As the song came to an end, a comfortable silence fell over the car. Natasha finally broke the silence by speaking up, her voice soft and gentle.

“You know you're beautiful, right?”

The lump in your throat grew larger, and you could feel tears stinging the corners of your eyes. It was harder than you thought to hold them back, to keep them from spilling out. Stupid hormones.

Natasha squeezed your hand gently, her eyes never leaving the road as she spoke. She needed you to know how she truly felt.

“You know that I could never look at any woman the same way I look at you, right? You’re the absolute most beautiful person in the world to me. Every inch of your skin, every curve and every imperfection, it drives me mad how perfect I find you, baby. I could never take my eyes off you…”

“My beautiful girlfriend, my wife…the beautiful mother of my child.”

You bit your lip, trying to keep yourself from falling apart completely, but it was a losing battle. The tears were building up, threatening to overflow, and you could feel your heart twisting inside your chest but her words? Oh, Natasha’s words…

Every time Natasha spoke, it was like a balm to your soul. Whether she was showering you with praise and affection or offering reassurance when you needed it most, her words always managed to touch you in a way that nothing else could. The way she expressed her love and devotion through her words and actions even though at times you weren’t making things easy for her. No matter how many times you heard her sweet words, they still had the power to make you feel adored and loved, reminding you of the deep love you have for the woman despite your hormones making you hate her.

As the tidal wave of emotions overwhelmed you, you couldn't hold back anymore. With a shaky breath, you finally looked over at Natasha with your ugly ass cry face—your face was a mess of tears and snot.

“Hi mama.”

Natasha held your hand in her lips and you laughed at her nickname, it was as though all your insecurities were briefly forgotten. The weight of your negative thoughts and doubts evaporated for a moment, as if a wave had come and washed the shoreline clean. Despite the emotional storm that had just occurred, Natasha’s ability to bring levity to the situation was one of the many things you adored about her.

You bite your lip as you look at her driving, “Baby wants some ice-cream.” You said in a soft murmur and Natasha couldn’t help but melt right then and there, finally hearing your beautiful voice.

“Oh really? I think baby is making mama want some ice-cream.” Natasha accused as she pointed to your tummy, your hand still in her hand.

And that earned another point from Natasha when you giggled again, much longer and louder this time.

⧗

You finally arrived at the compound and you entered your shared bedroom with Natasha, ice cream still in hand, and settled onto the bed. As you took bites of the sweet treat, Natasha busied herself with arranging the groceries in the mini fridge she brought for you since she knew you were pregnant.

The room was quiet, save for your soft sounds of satisfaction as you continued to enjoy your ice cream. There was a sense of comfort and domesticity in the air, a normalcy that was somehow both strange and familiar after all that had happened.

As Natasha finished putting all the strawberry items you hoarded in the grocery store, she removed her leather jacket, revealing the tank top underneath. Then, she shimmied out of her pants, revealing a pair of black boxers that did little to hide the bulge straining against the fabric. You paused, ice cream mid-lick, as you openly gawked at her. The cold treat dripped onto your hand, but you barely noticed, too preoccupied with the sight before you.

You instinctively ate the ice cream in the same way you sucked her. The motion reminded you of the way you had kneel in front of her, face between her thighs, eager to taste her, to please her as she guided you through it.

Spike in sex drive, check.

“I’m gonna shower,” she said, she did not look at you as she immediately went to grab her towel. You on the other hand are all sticky, fingers…and down there. You licked your fingers as you took the final bite of the ice-cream cone.

Only if you knew how much she needed you inside the shower.

Natasha stepped into the shower, the cold water spraying against her flushed skin. She turned the knob all the way to the left, seeking relief from the heat she felt. But it was no use. Her body ached for release, for your touch. The cold water did nothing to cool the fire burning within her.

Two months had passed since what happened and Natasha still struggled to cope. She felt lost, alone, and unheard. The distance between you two only made things worse. She found herself unable to take care of herself, her daily routines a constant reminder of her loneliness. The shame and frustration built up inside her, manifesting in these secret moments of self-relief in the bathroom and shower. She longed for your touch, your comfort, your presence.

“Oh, Y/N…” she moaned, her voice barely audible over the shower. “Y/N…” She pictured you on your knees before her, taking her entire cock into your mouth, your hands caressing her thighs, her hips.

As the water continued to cascade down her body, Natasha's hand picked up pace, stroking her length with desperate need. Her other hand pressed against the shower wall, fingers digging into the tile as she rode out the waves of pleasure. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,”

Natasha's breath hitched as her fantasy took over. She imagined your fingers trailing up her back, drawing her closer, urging her to thrust deeper into your mouth. Her hand mirrored her fantasy, tightening around her base and pumping faster, deeper.

“Y/N,” she gasped, her voice barely a whisper as she called out for you. Her body convulsed, her knees buckling as she found her release. Her forehead resting at the cold tile of the bathroom.

While you were slumped and laying in bed. The cold ice-cream did nothing to ease the heat your body is feeling now. Your hands slipped beneath the hem of your skirt, slowly sliding upwards.

Your fingers brushed against your damp panties, you couldn't hold back a soft gasp. You could feel how wet you were. With a trembling hand, you pushed your panties aside, your fingertips grazing your slick folds.

You closed your eyes, imagining Natasha's touch instead of your own. Her gentle caress, her loving touch, her passion. Your breathing hitched as you slowly parted your wet folds, your fingers sliding along your crease. You bit your lip to muffle a moan, your hips rising to meet your hand. You curled your finger, rubbing against your sensitive wall, and your other hand reached up to pinch your nipple through your top.

The dual stimulation was almost too much to bear. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you imagined Natasha's face, her lips, her touch. You then focused on your clit, rubbing it in circles and your free hand fumbled with your shirt, finally freeing your breast.

“Natasha…” you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper. Your finger rubbing your clit fast, this is the only way you could make yourself come, not the same way Natasha does. Her ways were much, oh so much better. She has different ways on how to make you come and beg for more.

Your breath coming in short pants. “Natasha, please…” you moaned louder, arching your back, your body tensing as the pressure built inside you.

And finally, your body shook violently as your orgasm hit, you buried your fingers deep inside you and you spasmed whenever it hit your clit. You feel your eyes droop and in just a few moments you’re already asleep.

Natasha emerged from the bathroom, a towel on her shoulders. Her face pale and her eyes guilty. And when she approached the bed, she saw you already deep in sleep beneath the covers, your breathing slow and even.

Only if she knew that your fingers were still knuckle-deep in your pussy behind the thick covers of the duvet.

⧗

“Can you go with me? I have a check-up with Dr. Cho.”

Natasha’s heart raced as she processed your words. You never asked for her to accompany you with Dr. Cho appointments before, usually you would go with Wanda or Yelena, literally anyone but not her. So the sudden request caught her off guard. But, she quickly nodded, afraid that you might take it back.

“Of course, I’ll come with you. Thank you, baby. Thank you for asking me to come with you.”

You just nodded along, your mind preoccupied with thoughts of your upcoming appointment or rather with the thought of Natasha going with you for the first time. Your hand absently rubbed your stomach, caressing it. And the redhead watched you, her eyes lingering on the gentle movement of your hand, she longed to touch your belly and talk to the mini me that is growing inside you.

“Do we go now? Or later?”

“I wanna go now.”

As you both walked to the medical bay, you found yourself not lagging behind Natasha like you usually did. Instead, you were walking beside her, close enough that your arms brushed against each other. Without thinking, you reached out and grabbed onto her arm, your fingers wrapping around her strong bicep.

The redhead couldn't help but smile, “I got you, Y/N.”

“Hi mama.” Dr. Cho greeted you, you offered the doctor a smile and then Natasha appeared at the frame of the door, “...and mommy.”

“Well then, let’s get started mommies?” Dr. Cho said excitedly. The doctor tried to talk you out of it, giving you advice not just for your relationship but for the future of your child. And by seeing you and Natasha now, she is very happy with the progress.

Dr. Cho ushered you to lie down on the bed. Natasha moved to help you, her strong hands gently supporting you as you climbed up. She adjusted the pillow behind your head.

“You can sit there, Romanoff.” Cho motioned on a chair beside the bed.

Once you and Natasha were settled comfortably on your own, Dr. Cho began preparing the ultrasound equipment. She moved your shirt upward and squirted a generous amount of gel on your exposed belly, the cool liquid making you shiver slightly.

“So, how many weeks are you now, Y/N?” Dr. Cho asked, her eyes focused on the screen. The doctor wants to make sure you are counting and aware about your weeks and the progress of your pregnancy. Before you could reply Natasha spoke up, “21 weeks,” she said confidently, reaching out to your hand.

You weren't mad at all that Natasha answered for you. In fact, you felt a warmth spreading through your chest at her words. She had been keeping track, even though all this time you had pushed her away. The realization shocked you—her dedication and care for you hadn't wavered, despite your coldness, despite your not making it easy on her.

“Good, it's good you're keeping up with Y/N's pregnancy,” Dr. Cho said, nodding approvingly.

“Of course.”

“Let's see if your little one wants to cooperate today,” Dr. Cho said, moving the transducer around your belly. She pointed at the screen. “Alright, there's the head, and that's the spine. Those are the limbs... Ah, now we can see the profile. And…”

Natasha's eyes were fixed on the screen, taking in every word Dr. Cho said—she tried. Suddenly, her gaze flickered down your belly seeing the scar she was very familiar with, and for a moment, she was transported back to that dreadful day. You were pale, unconscious and the doctor beside you was not Dr. Cho.

“Romanoff, your baby is healthy and developing just like it should. All the organs, muscles, limbs and bones are in place.”

Her body stiffened, and without a thought, she snatched her hand away from yours, breaking the connection she has been trying to fix for months. Her breath hitched, and she blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the sudden, unwanted memory. The room fell silent and Dr. Cho paused, looking concerned.

“Natasha?” you called out for her. Already missing the warmth of her hand to yours.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Natasha muttered, apologizing over and over. She stepped backwards and that's when your heart dropped, you didn't want to see her backing up. Not now, you were rebuilding what you both lost.

“Natasha, what’s wrong? Come back here.” You asked worriedly as you tried to sit up.

She shook her head, swallowing a lump on her throat, “Sorry, I’m…sorry.”

“Natasha!” you bawled, trying to heave yourself out of bed as the redhead turned and fled the medbay. You screamed her name again, your heart racing, but she didn't come back. Dr. Cho rushed to catch you, fearing you’d fall.

Defeated, you crumpled back onto the bed, tears spilling over. You clutched at Dr. Cho, burying your face in her scrubs.

“She left again...she promised she’d stay…”

Eventually, Dr. Cho and Bruce managed to calm you down enough to return you to your room. Wanda immediately rushed to the medbay when she heard about you, and once again you heard her cursing your girlfriend’s name as she walked you to your room.

“I am going to kill her, I swear.”

Your bestfriend insisted on staying with you but you wanted to be alone.

And here you are, alone once more, curled up on your shared bed, staring blankly at the wall. You refused to continue the check-up without Natasha by your side. Without her, everything felt pointless.

Hours more passed, and you remained unmoved on the bed, staring blankly at the wall. You'd barely blinked, save for the occasional tear that would slide down your cheek. The pain in your chest grew sharper, intensifying with each passing moment. You hugged your belly protectively, as if shielding the baby from the emotional turmoil.

“She should be here…mommy should be here…” you murmured, tears sliding down your cheeks. You felt abandoned, alone.

“Mommy will never leave us, she promised.”

⧗

Natasha finally returned, her hands shaking as she opened the door to your shared room. She froze when she found you on the bed, looking so small and vulnerable. She didn't want to look at you anymore, because all she could feel was guilt so she immediately made her way to the bathroom.

“Are you drunk?” you asked plainly, making the redhead stop in her tracks. She breathed as she turned, she couldn't respond, her voice stuck in her throat as she saw you sit up on the bed. The room was dark, but her eyes adjusted enough to see your tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes.

You could smell the alcohol on her from across the room, the acrid scent burning your nostrils. It mingled with the lingering perfume she always wore, creating a sickening combination.

“You left me there alone, you know that right?” you said, your voice cracking with emotion. “Not just me, but our baby. You left us there, I called for you but you didn’t even look back.”

Natasha’s face paled as you spoke, her eyes welling up with tears. “I-I’m so sorry,” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m so, so sorry. I never meant to... I didn’t think... I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I just…”

You watched her breathe hard, her chest heaving with sobs as she paced back and forth across the room. She trembled as she brushed her hairs out her face, she then buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with quiet, desperate tears. She was a mess, her usually composed self crumbling before your eyes.

“I feel like... I feel like I have no right to be like this,” Natasha finally spoke, her voice hoarse from crying. “But I paid for it, Y/N. What I did to you, I paid for it. Every night... every night, I always dream of losing you.”

Seeing her in such a state, you couldn't just stand there anymore. You moved towards the bed, your body tensing as you tried to stand straight despite the baby bump.

“I…I saw you there, you were laying in bed. At…at first I thought you were dead,” Natasha looked up at you with red, swollen eyes, her face contorting with fresh grief as she relived the memory.

“He...he threatened to kill you,” Natasha continued, “In front of me. He would wave the knife in front of me, he would laugh and then he would get mad, saying that if I dare to move an inch, he would do bad things to you.”

“And every night, Y/N, every night, I would dream about that. I would dream about not being able to save you…a knife on your…”

You immediately rushed to her and you both ended up on the ground, you gently pulling Natasha into a tight embrace. Her head rested on your shoulder as she continued to cry, her body shaking against yours.

“B-but I killed him, baby. I did, you’re safe now. Our baby…we…we are safe…you are safe…” she pulled you closer to her, “I killed him, I killed him…no one will ever hurt you anymore, I killed him. You’re safe.”

Feeling her cling to you desperately, her words coming out in a panicked, disjointed rush, she was still trapped in that nightmare and you didn’t know. You pulled her even closer, wrapping her in a protective embrace.

“Natasha I am here, baby’s here.” Gently, you pulled away. You took her hand and placed it on your swollen belly.

Her hand on your stomach trembled as she felt the warmth of your skin and the life growing inside you. Slowly, her other hand reached up to cradle your face, her fingers gently stroking your cheek. You leaned your forehead against her.

“Feel me, I’m here.”

“I need to feel you, Y/N. I need to feel you, all of you.”

Understanding her unspoken request, you captured her lips with yours, you poured all of your love and reassurance into the kiss. Your tongue delved into her mouth, tangling with hers as you deepened the kiss, wanting to chase away the last vestiges of her nightmare and replace them with the comfort of your presence.

Natasha stood guiding you both to your feet. She led you backward toward the bed, still not letting go of your lips.

In the blink of an eye, your clothes vanished, leaving your naked bodies pressed together, skin against skin. The sudden lack of barriers between you sent a shiver of desire through you both. Natasha's breasts flattened against your chest as she leaned down, her lips finding yours once more in a searing kiss.

As Natasha settled between your thighs, you could feel her hardness pressed against your lower belly, hot and heavy. The sensation sent a thrill through you, and you wrapped your legs around her waist, pulling her even closer.

“Natasha…feel me…”

Her fingers gently caressing your folds, finding you already wet and ready. She coated her length with your slickness, positioning herself at your entrance. She looked into your eyes, her own filled with raw, unbridled desire.

With a slow, gentle thrust, Natasha entered you, her eyes locked onto yours. She was so gentle, so tender, as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

“My angel,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion.

Natasha began to move, her hips rolling in a slow, sensual rhythm. Each thrust was careful and measured, allowing you to adjust to her size. She peppered your face with soft kisses as she made love to you, murmuring sweet words of devotion. “My love, my heart, my everything…”

You wrapped your legs tightly around her waist, pulling her even deeper. The new angle made her touch that spot inside you that drove you wild.

“N-Natasha…” you moaned, your fingers digging into her back as you clung to her.

She could feel all of you now—your heat, your wetness, your pulsating walls, the warmth of your skin and your beating heart, “Oh, Y/N…” she breathed, her body trembling as she held herself deep.

With a final, powerful thrust, Natasha buried her face in your neck and shattered. Her hot seed spilled into you, her whole body convulsing with the force of her release. You clung to her, your own completion washing over you like a wave as you called out her name. “N-Natasha...Natasha…”

You gently unwrapped your legs from around her waist and brought your hands up to hold her face, your thumbs brushing away the tears that had escaped her eyes.

“Forgive yourself, Natasha…”

She shook her head violently, “N-no…you’re here!”

But none of it had been real.

Natasha looked around the room, there was never a grocery, her eyes taking in the clothes strewn across the floor, some still bearing the scent of you that she couldn't bear to wash away especially the strawberry products she reminded of you. Your pregnancy tests, empty bottles and wrappers littered the nightstand, evidence of her neglect of herself. And the lifeless bunch of flowers Clint had given her months ago that was for your funeral. The wilted, dried-out blooms lay scattered on the floor, petals falling like tears, a harsh reminder of reality.

You would always tell Natasha how you liked Thor's hair and Thor, had vanished from Earth and hasn't come back yet since your death. Morgan had stopped playing salon because she would only play it with you.

Your bestfriend, Wanda, had to moved out, her powers were growing unstable and you are the only one who could calm her down. Also, the threat of harming your girlfriend had forced her to leave.

She never had to deal with your mood swings or food cravings, because all she had to deal with is that fact that she wasn't really able to save you and now you are gone forever.

Tears spilled down Natasha's cheeks as she stared at the pregnancy result she had found after the funeral, the cruel irony of it all crashing down on her. She hadn't just failed to save you, but also the innocent life growing inside you. The knife that took your life had also claimed the tiny, fragile being you both had created with love.

The ghostly visions, the heart-wrenching conversations, the passionate embraces...they were all figments of her grief-stricken mind. A desperate attempt to cope with the reality of your loss.

“I was here. You need to let me go, you need to let us go.”

[dreaming-medium]

Watch Your Six

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Sensory Deprivation - Han Jisung

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Word Count: 14.8k

Summary: After training for years, you finally become a full fledged agent for KDOI, the Korean Division of Intelligence. Over time, each and every agent becomes something like a family member, including the high-tech nerd who has managed to put a smile on your face since day one. What happens when he's sent with you on his first field mission?

Warnings: Violence, smut (18+) MDNI

A/N: Kinktober is a state of mind. I know its January idc lol I will finish the list of prompts even if it kills me

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

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. 

The sound your sneakers make on the treadmill reverberates through the gym. The expensive, high tech plastic mask strapped to your face fogs up with each exhale and clears with each inhale. 

To your right, a man holds a clipboard, glasses covered eyes watching your vitals displayed on the monitor hooked up to the mask and other various wires clipped to your body. 

You’ve been running for about an hour straight, but your breathing is still even; and just by glancing down at the screen, your heart rate looks the same. 

For months, you’ve been training with the federal agency to be one of their field agents. Countless nights were spent pushing yourself to the limit, physically and mentally. 

Today was your final evaluation before becoming a full-fledged agent. You were selected out of the hundreds of trainees to test to move on. 

It was a great honor, all your hard work was finally paying off. 

Maybe you’ll get your first mission after this! 

If you pass. 

A small bead of sweat drops down the side of your face. 

Bored, your eyes wander over to the man studying your every heartbeat. 

The thick rimmed glasses that sat on his face have slid down his nose a bit. His lips seem to sit in a constant pout thanks to those pudgy cheeks of his. 

Choppy, fluffy brown hair sits on his head like a mop. You can tell he’s run his fingers through it more than a handful of times to get it out of his eyes. 

A crisp white lab coat rests over a hoodie and khaki pants. A few different pens and instruments sit in the pocket under an embroidered ‘J’ .

You’ve seen him around the trainees once or twice in the years you’ve been here. From what you’ve gathered, he was one of the technical experts, providing countless gadgets and gizmos for the field agents to use. 

The guy that would give the secret agent a lipstick taser before embarking on their world class espionage mission. 

He’s pretty and smart— what a lethal combination. 

When the man looks back up at the treadmill, your eyes flick back to dead ahead of you. 

Reaching forward, he hits the stop button on the treadmill and jots down a few notes on his clipboard, a tiny smile pulls at his handsome face. 

The treadmill comes to a gradual stop and so do your legs. One hour exactly sits on the clock. 

Nervously, you look down at the screens, to his monitor, looking at anything you can. 

“You did extremely well, 586.” There’s a happy tilt to his tone while he scribbles down some more notes, flipping the page, then writing some more. “You can take the mask off now.”

Nodding, you gently take the mask off your face and drape it over the top of the treadmill. 

“I have one more examination for you.” He clicks a few buttons on the computer to the side.

Patiently, you stand there waiting for instruction. 

He looks up at you with amusement glinting in his big, brown eyes. “You don’t need to be so stiff with me, 586, that’s not part of the tests.”

Your shoulders relax and sag forward a bit. “Sorry, I’m just a bit nervous.”

“Understandable.” He grabs a hold of the cart with the machines on it and rolls it to the side. “Most, if not all, trainees are during their examination. I can’t remember a trainee that wasn’t nervous— well, maybe M, but he’s a special case.”

“Are you J?” you ask, looking down at his lab coat. 

“I am,” he answers and steps closer to the treadmill.

He reaches forward and unsnaps the wires hooked onto the leads on your chest. The sticker part stays on, but the wires are removed. Which means you’ll probably be hooked up to another machine soon. 

“I’ve seen you around before,” you say to him, studying his face up close. 

“I’m always around everywhere,” he jokes, unhooking more wires. “I don’t think there’s a square inch of this agency I haven’t seen.”

“Are you a field agent?”

He scoffs. “No, not me. I could never handle that.”

“But you’re an agent.”

He moves his head side to side. “Of sorts, yeah. B needed a tech guy, so technically I’m an agent. But if you were to send me on a mission, I might cry. I leave those sorts of things up to C or S, or any one of the other agents. Just not me.”

You nod with a small smile of your own. 

“Follow me.”

Following his orders, you step off the treadmill and follow after him out of the gym. 

“Is there only one of each letter?” you ask.

J laughs. “Actually, yeah.” He leads you towards a side room, it looks like an interrogation room with a large contraption on the center of the table. “It’s easier that way.”

He motions for you to take a seat across the table. 

“And unless you fail this psych evaluation, I believe we’re going to be back to 26 again.” J starts fiddling with the machine, pulling wires and leads off the top. 

A happy pang goes through your heart. Thank god he hasn’t hooked up the heart monitor yet, he would’ve seen it skyrocket. 

“You think?” Nervously, you shift around in the chair. 

J chuckles. “I do. I haven’t seen a perfect exam like this in a while. Plus, we saw all the extra training you were putting in.”

Your mouth opens a bit in shock. J looks over at you, holding the wires ready to snap to the leads on your chest. 

“We have eyes everywhere, 586. Did you really think we didn’t see that?”

An embarrassed flush crawls on your neck and turns your ears red. “Of course, I know that.” 

Again, he chuckles and snaps all the wires to the leads. His fingers are warm in contrast with the cold air of the exam room. Each time his knuckles brush against your skin the feeling lingers. 

He places a strap around your head that has two metal leads pressing into your forehead. Even more wires from that strap lead down to the detector. 

J looks down at the wires and then turns on the machine. It whirrs to life and a needle starts scribbling out your heart rate on the top. 

It’s a lie detector. Of sorts. It looks like more than that. 

You’re not going to pretend to understand anything, though. That’s his job. 

His eyes watch the needle, he then reaches forward and clips a small cuff on your finger— a steady beeping follows it. 

“There we go,” he mutters to himself and takes a seat across from you. 

J shuffles papers around on the clipboard to rearrange them. 

A large mirror sat on the wall behind him. There’s no way that’s not one way glass. Is there anyone on the other side watching your evaluation? Or is it just the two of you? Is there another higherup keeping track of your answers? Maybe it’s B? Or maybe other agents are spectating to see how you are. 

You would be working closely with them, after all. If the roles were reversed, you’re sure you would watch. 

“Ready?” J’s voice interrupts your thoughts. 

Your eyes snap to him and you nod. 

“Is your name Y/N L/N?” he asks, looking down at the clipboard. 

It’s been so long since you’ve heard your real name. Two years? Yeah, two years. You’ve only been referred to as 586 since you joined. 

“Yes.” 

J looks at the contraption for a few seconds, taking note of the way it moves. He makes a small tick on the paper. 

“Can you verify your date of birth for me?”

You do as he says, saying it like second nature. Again, he repeats the same motion of watching your heart rate and making a small tick. 

The questions start out simple. Where were you born? What are your parent’s names? Do you have any siblings? All questions that you would make a security question for your bank. 

“Now, let’s get to the real questions. Just answer honestly and you have nothing to worry about, okay, 586?” J’s voice is calm and smooth. 

Something about this guy makes you want to tell him everything regardless of if you’re hooked up to several machines. 

“Have you ever been contacted by an external government agency prior to enlisting in KDOI?”

KDOI: The Korean Division of Intelligence. Your dream job since you were a young girl. 

“No.”

After your answer, J watches your heart rate for even longer than before. He makes a tick on the clipboard. 

“Have you ever been contacted by an external government agency after enlisting in KDOI?”

“No.”

Another tick. 

“Have you ever participated in an organized event that openly opposed KDOI?”

“No.”

Tick. 

“Have you ever had malicious thoughts about KDOI or the agents working within it?”

“No, quite the opposite. I admire KDOI.” You add the last part with a sheepish smile. 

J grins when he makes the next tick on the paper. 

“Next section…” he murmurs. “Have you recently had thoughts of suicide?”

“No.”

Tick. 

Question after question comes from his mouth. You answer honestly to each of them, not even hesitating to let the reply leave your lips. 

“Did you have thoughts of suicide prior to enlisting in KDOI?”

“No.”

Tick. 

“Do you ever have thoughts of harming others?”

“No.”

Tick. 

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“N- what?” Your eyes widen and you stare at him incredulously. There’s no way that’s on the evaluation. 

J feigns ignorance and points down to the clipboard. In exaggerated movements, he motions down to it and shrugs, puffing air in his cheeks and just making a meal out of this fake performance. 

“I can’t believe it either but there it is. ‘Do you have a boyfriend?’” 

You tongue your cheek and smirk a bit. “No, J, I do not.”

J nods and scribbles down more than just a tick while looking at the heart monitor. “Interesting…” 

He makes a few last notes before his eyes widen and he looks up at you, pointing his pen in your direction. “No girlfriend either, right?”

You roll your eyes, “No, no girlfriend either.”

Isn’t this an official evaluation? For a government official secret organization that grants people a license to kill? 

He asked you if you were single immediately after asking if you’ve had thoughts of suicide. Is this guy for real?

You slow blink at him while he finishes up the form on his end. 

“Well!” he exclaims happily, hitting the clipboard on the metal table. You don’t even flinch. “I believe we’re all finished here.”

Your heart squeezes with nerves. 

J stands up from the table and rounds the table towards you. 

So badly you want to ask for the results of your exam. Are you in? Did you pass? Are you an agent?

“B needs to sign off on all the paperwork,” J trails off, his hands reaching forward to unhook all the wires from the leads stuck to your skin. “But… I don’t think there’s any issue with me welcoming you to the agency. Officially.”

Since the heart monitor was still hooked up, you can hear the needle suddenly spike and scribble large peaks on the paper. 

J turns his head to look at it. An amused smirk crosses his face and a chuckle huffs through his chest. “Funny,” he says to himself and then turns back to you. 

Sheepishly, you look away from him. 

“That’s what gets your heart rate to spike?” J sits on the corner of the table and folds his arms across his chest. 

You bite your cheek and avoid his eyes. “Well, this has been my dream job since I was a young girl; so, yes, you alluding to me becoming an official agent would raise my heart rate.”

J scoffs. His warm fingers suddenly grab your face, thumb on one cheek and his middle and pointer finger on the other. He turns your head to face him.

When your gaze snaps to his face, you see that there’s a cocky smirk on his face but his eyes are focused down on the heart monitor. The needle stays steady much to his obvious distaste. 

He sucks teeth in disbelief. “Really?”

“Is this another test?” your voice comes out muffled due to him holding your cheeks. 

J rolls his eyes with a frown. “Yeah, let’s go with that.” He releases your face and slides the strap off your head.

The leads on your chest are soon to come off after that. J is careful not to rip the sticky pads off your skin too fast so that it doesn’t sting. He rubs the site with a bit of rubbing alcohol afterwards to get rid of the residue. 

“How long have you been at the agency?” you ask. You’re curious about him. 

He defeats all the ‘Secret Agent’ stereotypes. He’s personable and warm— and a bit flirtatious. He’s not at all the cold, all-business type you were used to. That’s how more than half the trainees were. 

It’s not that you were cold, no. You just kept to yourself and worked hard. 

And you made sure your personality didn’t fade during that time either. 

J’s nose crinkles up while he thinks. His hands slow down in the process. “Hmm,” he hums. “Maybe four years now? Yeah, sounds about right.”

Your eyes widen. “Four years? How old are you?”

He smirks. “Don’t you know never to ask a young man his age.”

“I guess if you’re not going to tell me…” you trail off. “I’ll just say twenty eight then.”

“Twenty ei—!” he stammers and takes the last lead off your chest. “I’m twenty two!”

“Wasn’t so hard was it?”

J grumbles and turns around to finish putting the machine away. But there’s an amused tilt to the corner of his puffy lips and a playful glint in his eye. 

“So you started when you were eighteen?”

“Yep.”

“Child prodigy?”

“Taken right from high school.”

“Impressive.”

J laughs under his breath. “Everyone seems to think so.”

“You don’t?”

“Eh.” He shrugs. “Everyone here is a prodigy of some sort. It’s easy to blend in and somehow appear mediocre when surrounded by Korea’s most elite minds and bodies.”

“I don’t think you’re mediocre.”

“You haven’t met everyone else yet.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer again. J grabs your clipboard and takes the papers off it, handing them to you. 

“Bring these to B, he has to sign off on the final enlistment.” You take the stack from him. “The guard outside the door will bring you up to his office.”

You look down at the papers, your heart rate picking up faster and faster the more you think about it.

J puts his hand on your lower back and ushers you towards the door. It tingles at the base of your spine. He reaches in front of you and opens the door, motioning for you to exit first. The hand on your lower back twitches and it feels like he almost scratches it twice before urging you forward and dropping it. 

It’s weirdly comforting. 

It doesn’t feel weird at all. 

You turn back to look at him, “Thank you, J.”

He smiles. Those round cheeks get even bigger when it happens. 

“Welcome to KDOI, X .”

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

Two years goes by in the blink of an eye when working with a government agency. Especially when a majority of your assignments can take anywhere from a week to two months at a time. 

The agents you work with are the only constant in your life. Other faces flitter in and out of your life like leaves falling off trees. You don’t grow attached to anyone outside of this organization, you can’t afford to. 

You’re not complaining, not at all. You love the life you have now. It’s everything you ever wanted. 

Everyone at KDOI is a family, you’re all each other has. It’s an unspoken, special bond. 

When you first started, you were welcomed in with open arms. Obviously, some agents were warmer than others at first— or maybe it’s just that some were better at first impressions than others. 

Maybe other people would have been upset with M’s standoffishness when you first introduced yourself. But, after a hot coffee appeared on your desk not even five minutes after complaining about being cold to him and only him, you knew he wasn’t detached and icy at all. 

Other agents, like F, have been nothing but a ball of sunshine. He was the one you ate lunch with every single day while you were at the agency. Whilst sitting by yourself in the cafeteria on day one, he took it upon himself to plop himself in the seat right across from you. 

H is your favorite agent to go on long assignments with. He never fails to be a constant source of entertainment and intelligent conversation— with the occasional stupid ass comment that makes you question where the man you were just talking to went. 

Slowly but surely, you’ve also started learning their real names. Learning someone’s real name was apparently the equivalent of leaving you in their will around here. 

There was a time and place to refer to them as their real name. It was a line you tiptoed constantly. 

Surprisingly, it was M who told you his name first: Minho. It was completely unprompted too. It was in the jet returning from a three week mission where you had saved him from at least five different gunshot wounds by tackling him to the ground. 

The others trickled in afterwards. 

Y, or Jeongin, was shocked when you didn’t know his name. And immediately told you afterwards with a cute, wide smile on his face. 

Even though every single agent has become a part of you, one particular agent seems to have captured a larger part of your soul than the others. 

“J,” you say casually, slipping behind him to stand on the other side of his cluttered workbench. 

Jisung. He had told you his name when you had lingered in his workshop late one night, not wanting to go back to your dorm quite yet. 

“Hello, X,” he grins without looking up at you. The glasses on his nose have fallen forward.

His laptop is his primary focus, several wires are running from the computer to a tiny little gadget that looks no bigger than a cell phone. It has a small LED screen with different colored pixels bouncing around it. 

Jisung’s workshop was one of your favorite places in the agency. There was always music playing, a computer always had some sort of TV on silent with the subtitles on, and there were always snacks everywhere. 

You consider it a second dorm, really. As soon as you’re done training for the day, you usually find yourself here.

“When did you get back?” he asks, clicking a few keys and looking over at the gadget, then back to his computer. 

“Maybe two hours ago?”

“And it took you this long to come say hi?”

“I had to shower.”

“ And you didn’t invite me?” his cheeky smile gets bigger. 

You smack the back of his head, the glasses fall even more. You’re surprised they don’t tumble off his face.

If one thing has remained constant since your exam day, it’s the relentless flirting. The guy can’t go more than five minutes without saying some sort of teasing comment. 

It should bother you. 

But it doesn’t. 

At this point, you’ve gotten quite used to it. If he ever stopped, then you might be a bit concerned. You might even miss it. 

But you would never tell him that. 

Jisung makes a tiny ‘gah’ noise and rubs the back of his head in fake pain. He pushes his glasses up his nose and looks over at you. 

“I missed you so much and the first thing you do is hurt me,” he whines. 

“I wasn’t gone that long.”

“Two long months without my girlfriend.”

“ Not your girlfriend.”

He clutched his chest through his baggy black hoodie. “Another wound.”

You cross your arms and giggle a bit. “Well get used to me not being here. B is sending me on another assignment tomorrow.”

Jisung frowns. “I know, he asked me to be at your debrief tomorrow morning.” He lets out a whine. “You just got back! Usually you’re around for at least two weeks in between missions.”

Shrugging, you look around the room. The digital clock on the wall read 10:29 PM. He’s usually the only one in here past 5:30, he tends to lose track of time easily when working on projects. 

“It’s part of the job,” you say casually. 

Jisung grumbles again, looking down at his laptop once more. “Yeah, well it sucks. Everyone’s always coming and going. Meanwhile I’m stuck here all day every day.”

“I thought you didn’t do field work.”

“I don’t . I just also hate that I’m trapped here while everyone gets to travel with one another.”

You narrow your eyes. “You do know we’re not sightseeing, right?”

Jisung balks. “Of course I know that.” He pauses. “But I did see that picture that you and Changbin took at Buckingham Palace.”

You bite your lip to stop the smile. “Not my fault it just so happened to be by our hotel.”

“Bang said if we had a Christmas card he would use that picture.”

The smile you’re fighting gets even bigger. You hesitate before speaking up again. “It’s a good picture.”

Jisung’s head drops and he places both of his hands on the table. “See what I mean?” he groans. 

“Just tell Bang that you want field work.”

Jisung’s head shoots up and he stares at you with wide eyes. “I would die in the field!”

“You would not. One of us would be there to save your hide. You really think Minho would let you die?”

“I think he would load the gun himself.”

A laugh bubbles up in your chest. Uncrossing your arms, you turn around and lean against the table. 

“Ji, we would make sure you were safe if you were to come out in the field with us. It’s our job.”

“Your job is to carry out the mission.”

“I wouldn’t give a damn about the mission if your life was on the line.”

Jisung’s mouth snaps shut. His eyebrows fly up his forehead. 

The two of you stare at each other for a long moment. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his knuckles turn white from gripping the counter so hard. 

His Adam’s Apple bobs with a gulp. 

You shouldn’t have said something like that, shouldn’t you? Your job is to carry out government missions. Personal feelings should never be put first, you know that. 

So why did you say that?

Fuck, you shouldn’t have said that. 

The shock on Jisung’s face quickly morphs into a cocky smirk. It’s a mask. You can see in his eyes he’s still a bit shocked. 

“I knew you were in love with me.”

Groaning, you roll your eyes and push off the table. “I’m going back to my dorm to sleep. Goodnight, J.”

Your hand slides to his lower back and you scratch twice over his lab coat and hoodie. 

Ever since your exam day, the two of you do this small gesture to each other all the time. It could be when he passes behind you in the cafe line or comes up behind you in the training room. It’s such a tiny, personal gesture. 

Sometimes on the coldest nights in the field, you’ll find yourself aching for that small touch.

“You’re so head over heels in love with me, X!” he calls after you, again, clutching at his heart and overacting like he’s swooning. 

“I’m leaving!”

“You just got here!” he whines. 

“Bye.”

“I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you walk away, X!”

“Night!” you repeat, letting the door shut after you. 

You walk down the hallway of the agency with a goofy smile on your face. 

“Idiot,” you mumble to yourself. 

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

B’s office was at the very top of the large building, the windows overlooked the entirety of Seoul. Everything inside the office exuded money and power. The wood of the bookshelves was black and sleek and always dust free. 

Inside the office was so large there was an entire sitting area with two sofas and two loveseats around a coffee table. 

There was always a bergamot candle burning on a side table there. 

It was just about 10 AM when you stepped inside. 

“Ah, X, thank you so much for coming in.” B stands up from his large desk chair to welcome you in. 

Bang Chan, the leader of KDOI, and the most unassuming man you’ve ever met. When you brought him your final exam paperwork that fateful day you thought you were in the wrong office. 

This whole time you were expecting a wrinkly old man, not a twenty-something with dimples. 

But, at this point, you’ve learned to not be surprised by anything anymore. 

Maybe you were surprised at the fact that the other man in the room made no move to even look at you. 

Jisung sat in the other chair in front of the desk, his face sheet white. Both of his hands are gripped in tight fists on top of his pants. 

Your warm smile fades from your face as you take in his ghastly expression. 

“What’s going on?” you ask. 

Chan’s lips form a tight line as he motions to the chair for you to sit in. “I was going over your next assignment with J before you got here.”

“Apologies, am I late?”

“No, not at all. I had J come in a little early to talk to him one on one.”

You glance over at Jisung who looks like he hasn’t even blinked. Alarm bells are going off inside your head. Not even a nod in your direction?

“What’s this assignment about, B?” You look back to your boss. 

He slides a manilla envelope across the desk to you, you take it without a second thought. Chan picks up a tiny remote off his desk and presses a button. Shades slowly come down over the window, bathing the room in darkness. Another beep on the remote and a holographic screen projects from the floor next to the desk. 

Both you and Chan turn your chairs to go over the debrief, Jisung stays still. Part of you wants to snap your fingers in front of his face to see if he’s still alive or not. 

Instead, you focus on your job. 

“I know you’re used to more recoup time, but I’m afraid this assignment is pretty urgent.” Chan clicks the remote. A grainy CCTV picture is displayed on the screen. “The international gang you’ve been dealing with lately, the Ice Crows, have shown their face again.”

Chan zooms in on the image. Several higher ups of the gang are getting out of a black SUV. They’re all dressed in fancy suits smoking cigars. 

The last time you dealt with them was about five months ago when their trail had gone cold over in Canada. 

“When and where was this taken?” you ask. 

“Yesterday. Paris. Where you and J will be headed after this.”

Your head snaps over to look at Chan. 

With Jisung? No wonder the guy looked like he was eight inches from death!

Your eyes slide to the engineer, he’s still staring forward. A cold sweat on his brow. 

“J is coming with me?”

Chan points your attention back to the debrief. “Allow me to continue.”

You spare one last look Jisung. The poor guy is shaking in his boots. Your hands itch to reach out and comfort him, but you have to remain professional. 

That’s for after the debrief. 

“There’s an auction being held at the Palais des Congrès. Several large and important pieces are being shown there. Including…” Bang switches the slides and displays an expensive painting. “The Refuge, which was stolen no more than two months ago by the Ice Crows. They’re putting it up for auction when it belongs back in Korea.”

Your eyes narrow. “This seems like a pretty rookie cut and dry assignment, B. You need me to get the painting back. I don’t understand why J has to come with me, he doesn’t do field work.”

The conversation the two of you had the previous night echoes in your mind. 

B nods. “I know. Let me get there, X.” He switches the slide to display the floor plan of the museum. “This convention center is rather high tech, as you can see. It’s equipped with blockers that don’t allow any outside waves to make it past their walls. Any and all technical communication has to come within the building.”

“So, you’re sending J with me because he’s the only one that can operate field equipment? S can operate simple transmitters and trackers.”

“It’s more than that, X. The painting will be behind several different firewalls and security systems that not even S can hack through. J needs to be with you and he needs to be in that building.”

You take a deep breath and look over at Jisung. His hundred yard stare has moved from the window and is now focused down on his lap. 

“He’ll be in your hotel room the entire time. You’ll be doing the recon and walking through the convention center to get where you need to be.”

Jisung pulls his lips between his teeth. His body finally came back to life. “I won’t need to leave the room?” His voice is hoarse. 

“No,” Chan answers quickly. “Not until you’re leaving to come back home.”

Jisung shifts on his chair, unfurling his fists and swallowing thickly. 

“I understand your apprehension, J, I do. But I need you on this.”

Jisung watches him closely and then offers a weak nod. He glanced over at you. 

“I wouldn’t put you with X unless I was sure that she would watch your six.”

You nod and steel your expression. “I won’t let anything happen to you, J.”

Color returns to J’s cheeks at your words. He gulps and takes a deep breath, his shoulders rolling back and remaining stiff.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Okay, I’ll do it.” He’s more confident the second time. 

“Good.” Chan clasps his hands together. “Stay safe, agents. Amusez vouis bien!”

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

You and Jisung were the only ones inside the cabin of the agency’s private jet. It took off the runway only about four minutes ago. 

The brunette sat across from you, his eyes focused out the window at the clouds below. His posture is anything but relaxed. He’s sitting ramrod straight in the large cushioned chair. 

You don’t think his muscles have released since you both were in Chan’s office. Even through the thick layers of his comfortable traveling clothes you can clearly read his uneasy body language. 

“You okay?” you ask gently.

“No,” he mutters back. Duh.

You bite the inside of your cheek, completely unsure of what to do or say. This was never a part of your training. Maybe you should’ve picked up a copy of ‘ Comforting Friends for Dummies ’ when you had the chance. 

Killing targets? Easy! 

Provide detailed surveillance on a suspicious person? Done! 

Soothe an anxious friend? Not so simple. 

Jisung’s cheeks seem even puffier than usual, lips pursed in a pout. There’s no sparkle to his eyes like you’re used to. 

Taking a deep breath, you lean back in your seat and look around the plane. You crack your knuckles, displaying your own nerves. 

“Do you know the best part of staying at hotels during missions?” you ask him to break the silence.

Jisung hums in acknowledgement, he continues to watch the clouds below. 

“You get to order all the room service you want— it comes out of the agency’s card.” You smirk. 

He shifts around in his seat. His hands that were tightly gripping the armrests relax a bit. 

“Last assignment I was on with Hyunjin, we were in a seaport town, the hotel made these bacon wrapped scallops… man… I ate so many I thought I was going to explode.” You pat your stomach. 

Jisung finally looks at you. “Bacon wrapped scallops?”

You nod and smile at him. “You’ll be in the room the entire time. Think of all the room service you’ll get to order.”

“I’ve never had bacon wrapped scallops.”

“It’s Paris, who knows what they’ll offer there. And it all goes on Bang’s card.”

Jisung finally smiles. It wavers for a second, like he’s sheepish to do it. It’s paired with a breathy chuckle. He looks down at his lap and lets his body fall forward a bit, elbows resting on his knees. 

His knee bounces anxiously and the exhales he lets out are shaky. 

“God, Y/N,” he sighs, rubbing his face. “I can’t help but freak out.”

“Understandable.”

“It’s my first time out in the field.” 

“I know.”

“What if something happens?”

You roll your eyes. “I would be more surprised if something didn’t happen, Jisung.”

His head shoots up. The color drains from his face. His pouty lips part a few times like he’s trying to find the right words to say. 

“But I’m prepared for it, Jisung.” You lean forward, mirroring his posture and take his hands between yours. “I’m prepared to take care of whatever pops up to keep you safe, okay?”

His jaw clenches and he stares deeply into his eyes. The hands in yours are so warm in stark contrast to your always-cold ones. 

“And if anything terrible happens then I’ll do whatever it takes to get you out of it. Trust in me, okay? I have to take care of KDOI’s resident nerd, after all.”

“Resident nerd…” he scoffs.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Did I ever tell you what happened on my first mission with Minho?”

Jisung shakes his head. 

“It was supposed to be easy! The intel that KDOI had gotten was that there was going to be a large drug exchange somewhere in the States, Minho was sent with me. And my lord, our intel was off.”

Thinking about the memory makes you giggle to this day. 

“It was an international, high profile cartel that Bang has been trying to nail down for years. Well, during a small scout, I got my ass captured. I wasn’t watching my six like I should’ve.”

Jisung’s eyes widen. Obviously, he wasn’t told about this. It’s not like you enjoy flaunting the story around. 

“I had a gun to the back of my head, the leader of the cartel was screaming for Minho to come out from where he was hiding or he’d kill me. God, I’ve never been so afraid in my life. My first assignment and I already had a gun to my skull.

“Minho, being the amazing agent he is, found the right vantage point and took the guy out. I was able to evade the crossfire after that, but honestly those bullets weren’t what scared me, it was the idea that Minho was disappointed in me.”

He was the agent you looked up to the most after all. He was the one that all these great stories and tales were all about. Minho was the harrowing hero of KDOI who was able to ace every mission handed to him. 

“But he didn’t even say anything about it. Even when I apologized over and over again, he just shrugged and said it was part of the job. And I get it now. It is just part of the job. So don’t worry, okay?”

Jisung swallows once, chin dipping down with a stiff nod. He turns his hands around in yours to grasp your fingers. 

A playful smirk creeps up on his face. “I can’t believe it…”

Your head cocks to the side and you watch him closely. He’s studying your manicured nails, his thumbs swipe over the digits softly. It’s a tender movement. 

“What?” you ask. 

“I can’t believe how in love with me you are.”

You rip your hands out of his and swat forward just as fast. 

With a barking laugh, he moves out of the way of your slap. You swing again and again, each time his laughter gets louder and louder. 

“First last night, now this? Are you going to propose to me next?”

You know this is just his way of evading thinking about how scared he is, but if that’s what it takes to make him feel better, you’ll allow it. If a distraction is what he needs, then you’ll give it to him. 

“Love hurts!” he cries out when you land a solid smack on his arm. “They were right!”

“It’s going to kill you, that’s what it’s going to do.”

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

By the time you and Jisung get to the convention center and check into the hotel it’s nearing seven at night. The gala isn’t being held until tomorrow, so you both have some time to relax and settle in. 

It leaves Jisung plenty of time to set up everything he needs inside your hotel room.

You both checked in without a hitch, getting your keys and practically falling into the room. Jet Lag is pulling your eyelids shut and weighing down on your chest like an elephant.

Flicking the lights on, you blink your bleary eyes a few times, staring down at the large bed sitting in the middle of your hotel room. 

One king sized bed.

You’d love to say this hasn’t happened before but you never know what to expect on missions. There have been places where there’s been one bed, two beds, bunk beds , and even separate bedrooms once or twice. 

On one occasion Hyunjin slept on the floor since you were only given one twin sized bed and you were not about to share that tiny space with the man who likes to spread out all of his limbs and hog the blanket at the same time.

So, at this point, you don’t even care if there’s only one bed.

You shrug it off and plop your bag next to the dresser and let your body fall back onto the plush mattress with an ‘oof!’

Jisung, on the other hand, hovers around the doorway, both hands still gripping the two rolling suitcases full of his equipment. “I can sleep on the pull out couch,” he says thickly.

“Ji, it’s fine, we can share a bed, we’re both adults here,” you tease him. “As long as you don’t put your cold feet on me, I don’t care.”

“I don’t have cold feet,” he grumbles and wheels his suitcases towards the small table on the other side of the room. 

You let your eyes slide shut on the bed. The gentle hum of the air conditioner already lulling your brain to sleep. With how exhausted you are, it wouldn’t take much for you to give into the pull anyway. 

Jisung opens up the suitcases and starts unloading every piece of technology that he has brought with him. Various wires and computer parts thud against the wood of the table. 

He stops for a second.

“And how would you know if I did have cold feet?”

A laugh is punched from your chest at the abrupt question. It’s a deep belly laugh. “Let’s just say there is a loose lipped agent among us.”

Jisung pauses. “Minho said he wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“He wasn’t going to until I started teasing him about his purchase of fuzzy socks.”

“You were with him when he bought those?”

“I helped him choose between two different pairs.” You crack one eye open to look at him. “The purple pair was my idea.”

Jisung groans and slides his laptop open, the typing on his keys is a lot more aggressive. You giggle again at his outward display of frustration.  

You let your eyes close again, listening to him shuffle his things around the wooden table muttering in between movements about how his feet aren’t that cold, they’re just colder than the rest of his body. 

An easy smile finds its way on your face and you listen to his quiet ramblings until sleep finally washes over your tired mind. 

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

“You were right,” Jisungs voice says in your earpiece. “Room service is fucking awesome.”

A waiter with a tray full of champagne flutes passes by, you grab one as he strides by your side. 

“I told you,” you say quietly while bringing the glass up to your lips to take a sip. “What did you order?”

“I think the better question is what didn’t I order.” His mouth sounds full when he answers you. 

He’s up on the 14th floor of the convention hall while you’re downstairs at the gala in a sleek, red silk dress. Your hair and makeup done exquisitely well, beautiful silver heels match the diamond jewelry adorning your skin. 

You blend right in to everyone around you. 

“I heard that their oysters are fantastic.”

“I think that’s part of what I ordered.” You can hear several dishes being pushed around. “Yep, right here. Although, they don’t look as appetizing as I thought.”

“They’re not really a lounge snack.”

“For rich people they are.”

The mission started about an hour ago when you made your way into the main event hall. The auction for the painting is going to begin in about another hour. 

Your first task of the night is to locate the painting before the auction and place a minuscule tracking device on it to locate later once it’s sold. 

There was only one way you knew to get close enough to The Refuge. 

“Oh. Three tables back to your 8 is your first target of the night, X.”

Paternino ‘Pink Panther’ Cardi. One of the Ice Crows inner circle members. He can’t resist swiping whatever paintings he can get his grimy fingers on; but, he also can’t resist bragging to an attractive woman. 

You turn nonchalantly to find him already eyeing you up with dark eyes. 

He’s your typical mafia member. In fact, if you had to draw a cartoon of a mobster, it would look like Paternino. 

You hold his searing eye contact while taking another sip from your champagne. The mobster lowers his chin and lets his tongue dart out to lick his lips. 

At first, seduction wasn’t a part of the job you particularly excelled at. But after doing it for so long, it comes naturally. 

Batting your lashes, you smirk at him and then turn to walk towards his table, your hips swaying in the process. Maybe you exaggerate your movements a bit, but it has the exact effect you need on Paternino. 

He’s sitting at a large round booth all by himself, legs spread wide in a show-of-power manner. A large swig of whiskey is taken out of his glass before you get to him. 

“Don’t you know that a beautiful woman such as yourself deserves a better drink than the venue provided champagne?” He motions to the booth seat next to him. 

You place your glass on the table and slide gracefully next to him. The effort you put into this is going to need to be quick, you don’t have long to locate the painting. 

“And I suppose a handsome man like yourself knows just what to order a woman like me?” Your voice is coy and seductively low. 

In your ear, you hear Jisung take a tiny, shaky breath. Does he know the intercom is still activated on his end?

Paternino slides towards you a bit more so now you can smell the expensive cologne wafting off him. It’s almost too overpowering. 

“A woman like you, hm?” He rests his arm on the booth behind your shoulders, lifting one hand to signal a waiter to come by. “Look into my eyes, let me see if I can guess your drink of choice.”

You rest your chin on top of your folded hands, your elbows resting on the table. His eye contact is intense and vivid, it makes your skin crawl. 

Paternino hums again. “A sapphire martini.”

“Nope,” Jisung says with a chuckle. 

You give a tiny, fake gasp. “How did you know?”

“I know a woman with taste when I see her.” He takes another swig of his whiskey while staring at you. “A sapphire martini for the lady.”

There must have been a waiter next to the table. You fight the urge to turn and look, instead opting to look at Paternino through your lashes. 

“Your turn, Beautiful. Why don’t you make an assumption about me?”

“I assume you’re an asshole with a tiny dick.”

Humming, you scoot even closer to Paternino, your fingers come up and walk up his chest to come around his tie. 

“I think,” you whisper lowly, coming closer to his own face, forcing your eyes to look down at his lips for a split second then back up at his eyes. “That you’re a powerful man around here, and that you don’t take no for an answer.”

His lips curl up in a cocky smirk. The arm that was previously on the booth, comes around your shoulders. His fingers feel clammy on your exposed skin. 

“Very observant, my lady. Anything else?”

The sound of a glass being delicately placed reaches your ears. You reach out and grab the martini glass without looking, bringing it closer to you.

“No, no, it’s your turn.”

He smiles. You’re so close to his face you can hear his exhales, smell the whiskey on his breath. 

You sip your own martini. God, it’s awful. You hate martinis. 

Paternino slides a finger underneath the spaghetti strap of your dress. “I think you would look gorgeous without this in the way.” He tugs on the strap. 

“Zero out of ten. Horrible pick up line. Try again.”

Jisung’s snarky words in your ear are oddly calming to your racing heart. He keeps bringing you down to Earth.

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing about your clothes.” You tug his tie. “The auction doesn’t start for some time. How about you show me somewhere private we can go and we can see if both of us are right.”

“Uuuuggghhhhhhh…”  

“I like that idea, I know just the place, Beautiful.” Paternino slides out of the booth and holds out his hand, which you grab a hold of gingerly to stand up and be led away from the main gala floor. 

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

It takes five minutes for Paternino to lead you to the room where The Refuge is being stored. It only takes you ten seconds to knock him out cold with one solid hit to the back of the head. 

His body hits the ground like a sack of potatoes in the dark storage room. 

“Fucking finally,” Jisung groans in your ear. 

“Sorry, it was the only way I knew to get back here.”

“That was torture, X. I’m never doing this again.”

You roll your eyes and pick up Paternino’s ragdolling body under the arms, dragging him across the room and stuffing him inside a storage closet with his arms and legs tied together and duct tape over his mouth. 

“Now, which one is The Refuge?” you mutter looking around at all the art around the room. There’s sculptures, painting, glass blown pieces, everything you would see in a museum. 

“I wonder if The Refuge is the only stolen thing in here?” 

Sighing, you walk around the room, trying to recognize anything. “Probably not. But it’s the only one we know about.”

You find the painting eventually sitting at the very back of the room covered by a large sheet. When you walk up to it, you take your earring out of your ear and slide the back off— which is where you were keeping the tracker. 

You tuck the tracker in the back of the painting between the canvas in the wood. It wouldn’t slip out nor would anyone notice. 

“Perfect.”

“I can see it on the map still, you’re all good. Now get out of there.”

“Anyone coming on the cams?”

“No, you’re clear.”

You take your other earring out and throw it in the garbage can by the door. They were fake anyway and you don’t feel like looking like a freak with one in. 

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

When you returned to the event hall, people were taking their seats for the auction, so you followed suit. Grabbing another drink from the bar before you sat down. 

“Vodka tonic?”

“Always,” you say under your breath. 

You watch the bartender make your drink with close eyes. 

Now you just needed to wait until the auction was over to get the painting back. Your job was half over. 

Through the earpiece, you can hear knocks on Jisung’s hotel room door. 

“More room service?”

“I… I didn’t order anything.”

Alarm bells go off in your mind. “Don’t answer it.”

Jisung stays silent for a few moments. You’re no longer watching the bartender, you’re focusing intently on what you can hear in your ear. 

“J.” You state, trying to get an update from him. 

“I think they’re gone.”

Before you can even think about being relaxed there’s a loud bang on the other side of the intercom and Jisung shrieks from surprise. 

“X! X, they’re in the room! X!” His voice shouts into your ear. 

You’re already running out of the event hall, your dress hiked up in your hands.

“J, there’s a gun strapped to the bottom of the table, use it!”

You can hear gruff voices screaming at Jisung not to move, that they’d kill him if he even twitched a muscle. 

“X, there’s five of them.” He whispers quietly. 

“J, listen to me, stay calm, I’ll be there in five minutes.” You burst through the stairwell and start climbing two at a time, even in your heels. The elevator would’ve taken too long. “Do what you need to stay alive, fuck the assignment. Stay alive.”

“X.” It’s a whimper and it stabs you through the heart. The yelling gets louder and louder. 

Jisung begs for mercy. You can hear the desperation in his voice, it pushes your legs to move faster and faster up the stairs. 

“Si—“

The earpiece goes dead after a gunshot. 

Your knees wobble and you lose your momentum. 

Oh my god, no, fuck, please. 

Reaching out, you grab the railing to keep your balance on one of the landings. 

“J?” you scream. “J, can you hear me?”

Nothing. Not a single voice comes through. Not even static.

Maybe they just shot the equipment. That has to be it. They didn’t shoot him. They wouldn’t. Right?

You steel your nerves and launch yourself up the remaining steps. By the time you reach the 14th floor, you’re not even winded. 

The long hallway is colder than the stairwell. You take off sprinting towards your room, sharply rounding the few corners that you come across. Right before your own stretch of hallway, you slow down to a walk. It kills you but you have to do it. 

In the distance, right in front of your room, you see two large men in black suits standing guard. They take notice of you immediately. 

“What are you doing up here, ma’am?” One asks as you walk closer. 

“My room is up here, honey.” 

He looks to his partner and then back at you. “Turn around and walk the other way.”

“Why?” you ask, only about ten feet away. 

“Just do it, sweet cheeks.”

Your eyebrow cocks and before he can react, you walk up and throw a sharp right hook into his jaw. The bone in his face cracks and he stumbles down onto the ground. 

His partner yells in surprise and starts fumbling for his gun. When his hand raises to shoot you, you grab his arm and aim his weapon down so when he discharges it, it shoots right into his partner. 

Then, you pull his arm so he falls forward into you. You swing the heel of your palm upwards right into his nose. With your free hand, you reach down and grab the tiny pistol that was strapped to your thigh. 

Before the second goon could recover, you shoot him right in the head. 

The sound of gunshots obviously alerted the remaining three gang members in the room. Two of them come barreling out into the hallway with their weapons drawn. 

Immediately, you shoot the first one in the head, he hits the ground before he even knows what hit him. The other gang member yelps in shock before you shoot him too. 

Within two minutes there are four bodies in the hallway.

Carefully, you walk into your hotel room, keeping your back against the wall and your gun cocked.

“Shut the fuck up,” a gruff voice says roughly. 

Jisung said there were five of them. The fifth must be the one holding him hostage.

Quietly, you inch closer and closer to the corner of the wall. Once you turn around, he’ll be right in front of you. 

You gulp and take one deep breath before coming around the corner, gun pointed forward. 

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” That same deep voice calls out. 

Your heart drops. 

Another typical looking crook is pointing his gun at the closed wardrobe doors in the corner of the room. 

Where is Jisung? Where is he? Is he in the wardrobe? He has to be inside the wardrobe. 

“Why don’t you drop the gun, sweetie.” The mobster says darkly. 

You stay still with the gun pointed at him despite his words. The trigger seems to burn your finger. It's aching to be pulled. 

Is Jisung in the wardrobe? Is he in there and you can’t see him?

Or is this guy trying to pull a fast one on you to get you to drop your weapon? 

Fuck, is Jisung in the wardrobe?

“I said drop the fucking gun.” He moves to pull the hammer back of his own pistol and you don’t hesitate even for a second. 

You pull your own trigger. 

He drops to the ground with a bullet wound directly in his head. 

You sprint across the room and rip open the wardrobe doors. 

Empty. 

It’s empty. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you repeat under your breath frantically. You blink your eyes over and over again hoping that he would suddenly appear. 

You even go so far as to open and close the wardrobe door three more times, each time more frantic. 

“Fuck!”

Where the fuck is he if he’s not inside this room? 

The equipment on the table has a bullet hole through Jisung’s main laptop but no blood anywhere near it. But his glasses are. They’re lying on the floor with a crack through one of the lenses. 

Did they move him to another location? He doesn’t have a tracker on him like you do.

With a yell of anguish, you turn and kick the dead mobster at your feet. His limp body rolls over and his jacket pocket falls open. 

A hotel room key tucked inside the pocket catches your attention. You crouch down and pick it up.

‘1833’ is written on the back of the key.

It’s not a great lead, but your legs are running out of your hotel room before you even think twice. Obviously they moved him somewhere else to lead you into their trap and it didn’t work. Not with how well you were trained. 

You burst through the door leading to the 18th floor, heeled shoes sprinting down the hallway towards where room 1833 would be.

As soon as you’re in front of the door, you click the hammer back of your gun and hold it out in front of you, swiping the key in the handle with your free hand.

The lock clicks open and you push the handle down slowly, trying to cause the least amount of noise as possible. All of the lights are off inside of the hotel room, save for one lamp. The yellow glow radiates on the wall.

There’s no noise.

Everything is completely silent save for the quiet hum of the air conditioning pumping through the room.

Until you hear a sniffle, a huff, and then another sniffle. 

Inching across the floor, you slide your back against the wall like you did previously, listening for any more key sounds that would alert you that there are more people inside the room.

Taking one last deep breath, you round the corner and point your gun forward.

Even in the dark you know exactly what you’re seeing. 

In the middle of the room stood Han Jisung; his hands tied together with a rope coming from the ceiling, a blindfold around his eyes and earplugs shoved into his ears. From here you can see the wetness from his tears being absorbed by the blindfold. There’s a gag tied around his mouth muffling tiny sobs.

You don’t allow yourself to fall victim to false security, you look around the room closely, making sure no one else is lying in wait for you to fall into yet another trap. 

No other soul is inside this hotel room with you.

Dropping the gun onto the bed, you cross the room towards Jisung as quickly as possible.

He must sense another presence in front of him, his entire body stiffens and another louder sob is swallowed by the gag. He backs up away from you as much as his restraints allowed– which was next to nothing.

“Jisung,” you say in relief. “Oh god.”

Without thinking twice about it, you reach around and brush your hand on his lower back, scratching twice. 

Jisung’s chest heaves with another sob, even through the gag in his mouth, you can hear him whimper your name. His entire body relaxes and he falls towards you, the ties on his hands tugging even more. 

You reach up and yank the gag out of his mouth. 

“X,” he rasps with a dry tongue. “Oh my god please say it’s you. I-I can’t hear anything— fuck, Jesus. Thank god you’re alive, oh god.”

You scratch his lower back again, looking at the restraints. How the fuck were you going to untie that knot? 

Jisung’s tongue darts out to lick at his dry lips. His weight leans into you as much as he can. It must’ve been horrifying to be tied up like this, he couldn't hear or see or scream for help. 

Gingerly, you reach up and cup both of his cheeks so as not to startle him. Even with how gentle you were, he still jumps in shock. 

“Everything happened so fast,” he rambled. “They shot out the laptop so the communicator was fried. Next thing I knew I had a bag over my head and I was being tied up.”

Using your fingers, you push the blindfold up his face to rest around his forehead. 

Jisung’s big, brown eyes blink and squint a bit before focusing on you. He searches all over your face, taking in every detail as if you’re a glass of water and he’s been crawling through the desert. 

His eyebrows pinch together and he gulps. 

“God, I’m always glad to see you, but now I’m really glad.”

You laugh under your breath, the stress from just the last thirty minutes alone lifting off your shoulders. 

He’s okay. 

Jisung is okay. 

Using your hands, you wipe the tear tracks off his puffy cheeks. God, he must’ve been horrified. 

He’s probably never going to go out into the field again. You look up at the restraints, analyzing the knot closely. You’re going to have to cut him down, there’s no way you’re untying that. He’s secured to a pipe that runs across the entirety of the ceiling. 

“You know,” Jisung starts. His voice already has that teasing tilt to it. “If you wanted me tied up this badly, all you had to do was ask, baby.”

Your eyebrows twitches. Mr. Humor-Is-My-Coping-Mechanism decides to show his face now of all times, huh? 

Slowly, you look down from his restrained wrists to his dark eyes. A smirk is already plastered on his face, his lips still wet from licking them.

“You must want me so bad, hm?”

With your own crooked smile, you tongue your cheek and make a ‘huh’ noise, it puffs through your chest. That’s how he wants to be, huh?

He can stay tied up for a little longer then. It’s not like anyone’s coming into this room nor do you have anything to do until after the auction. 

Really, you have nothing but time to kill!

You take a step backwards away from him and cross your arms over your chest.

His eyes widen when you distance yourself from him. “Wh…” His cheeks puff a bit as his lips purse in confusion. Jisung tugs on the rope still around his wrists. 

You cock your head to the side and stare at him with one lifted brow. 

The bed behind you dips down under your weight as you sit down on the edge. It gives you a perfect vantage point to watch Jisung grow more and more confused as to why you’re not cutting him down yet. 

Slowly, his ears start turning red, the flush crawls across his face and down his neck, disappearing into his black hoodie. 

“X,” he says hoarsely. “Aren’t you going to cut me down?”

You shrug, knowing no matter what you say, he’s not going to hear you. If he wants to tease you, you can tease right back. 

The gun on the bed beside you is picked up in your hand. You nonchalantly click the safety on and toss it to the side again.

He tugs even harder, the ropes chafing his wrists a bit. You watch as JIsung’s Adam’s Apple bobs with a gulp. The blindfold is pushing his bangs up in wild directions.

The helpless look on his face shouldn’t be making your blood pump this way. Excitement shouldn’t be tingling at the base of your spine from the power trip you’re getting from this. This is only teasing between two best friends, nothing more. 

It’s just teasing, right?

Right?

You cross one leg over the other, leaning back on your hands. The plush blanket underneath your fingertips feels cool and soft. It’s a complete contrast to the way your skin is heating up under Jisung’s desperate gaze.

“Aren’t you going to…” he trails off. Several times his eyes flick from yours down to your exposed leg. When you had crossed them, due to the slit up your dress, the entirety of your leg was exposed to the cool hotel room air.

“Going to what?” you ask him, exaggerating the movements of your mouth for him to understand. 

Jisung gulps again while watching your lips. He squints his eyes closed and tries to take a steadying breath in through his nose, his chin tilts back a bit.

You allow your gaze to wander down his body a bit. He’s always in relaxed clothing, including now. An oversized black hoodie draped over his shoulders with gray sweatpants on his bottom half.

Gray sweatpants that you now notice seem a little… tight .

Oh.

It seems as though you’re not the only one whose thoughts seem to be a bit… derailed. 

When you look back up at Jisung, he’s staring at you with slightly glassy eyes and a heaving chest. Nervously, his tongue comes out to lick his drying lips again. 

A tight band of tension stretches between the two of you; you can practically feel it connecting your bodies together. The hair on the back of your neck stands up.

Is he thinking the same thing you are? Is he allowing his mind to wander the way that yours is?

Slowly, you uncross your legs and stand up from the edge of the bed. 

Big brown eyes flick down to watch the movement absentmindedly, his lips part and a shaky exhale leaves them. 

Your hips sway from side to side with each slow step you take towards Jisung. 

The eye contact he makes with you is sharp; his thoughts being conveyed through them. He wants you, and he wants you bad. It’s like he’s practically begging for it with those brown puppy dog eyes. 

And you’ll be damned because you want it just as bad. 

There’s only so much of his teasing that you can take. Only so much desire the dam within your heart can take before it bursts. And right now, with how high your adrenaline has spiked, nothing is stopping you.

The last two years of nonstop flirting is taking its toll on your self control.

Licking your own lips, you look up at Jisung, a shaky breath coming out afterwards.

Your fingers come up and grab the blindfold that’s still around his forehead and tug it back down over his eyes.

“ Fuck, ” Jisung murmurs. Your face is so close to his you can physically feel the words splay out onto your own lips. 

With the gentleness of a butterfly landing on a flower, you brush your lips against his. Jisung immediately brings his face closer to yours, smashing your mouths together even more. 

A sensation you can’t quite describe washes over you. It has the same level of completeness that you had felt when you became a full-fledged agent; like you just did something that the universe has been waiting for you to do.

His pouty lips start moving against yours faster and faster with more urgency, like he can’t get enough of you, like he’s experiencing the same emotions that you are. Were you the piece he always needed too?

Both of your hands begin to explore. You cup his cheek with one while the other grabs at the front of his hoodie. He’s leaning into you so much that the ropes holding his wrists squeak as they tighten and rub.

With a teasing smirk against his mouth, you take a tiny step back. This way he wasn’t able to reach your lips but could still feel the heat from your body in front of him. 

A tiny whine leaves his throat as soon as you pull away. You watch as his lips chase after you just to be stopped by the ropes.

“Y/N,” he whispers, pleading. You lightly tap his cheek twice.

Pulling the collar of his hoodie to the side, you let your mouth hover over his neck. 

Since he doesn’t have sight or hearing, all of his other senses are on high alert. Jisung feels your warm exhales so close to his skin and squirms around, little noises leaving the back of his throat. 

You tease him more and more by letting your deep breaths fan over his flushed skin but never actually letting your lips actually meet with his neck.

Jisung pulls and pulls on the restraints, each exhale driving him insane. 

When your lips finally meet his neck, a long mewl exits his own wet mouth. His head tilts to the side to give you more access. Greedily, you let your mouth explore his soft skin. 

His hips buck forward into yours, his hard length grinding into your hip to bring himself some relief. Jisung whines again at the sensation.

At the same time, you open your mouth and suck down where his shoulder meets his neck. His body tenses up and his head tilts back in pleasure.

“Jesus, fuck,” he curses, grinding into your hip once again. “Oh, god. Shit– please, fuck, Y/N.” His incoherent babbling only increases in pitch and frequency the more you run your tongue up and down his neck, never going lower than the collar of his hoodie would pull or higher than his jawline. 

You let your free hand travel up to thread in his soft, chocolate brown locks of hair. You scratch at his scalp a few times, letting your nails drag along his head. A low moan emanates deep within Jisung’s chest, it almost sounds like a purr. His head leans back into your touch. 

“Oh my god,” he murmurs. Every noise that comes out of his mouth is louder than you expect thanks to the earplugs. “Y/N, please– oh fuck , kiss me again, please, oh my god, please, Y/N.”

Pulling away from his neck, you capture his lips in the middle of his babbling. The rest of his words are swallowed by your own mouth. His tongue darts out from his mouth to lick at your lips and coax yours forward.

Your own moans slip between kisses, Jisung can feel the vibrations against his mouth and they drive him absolutely wild. His hands ball up into fists; he wants to touch you so bad. 

“Y/N,” he says your name in between kisses. “Please, c-cut me down.” Your kisses travel down to his jawline. “I want to– Fu-huh-huck! ” You bite down on his neck harshly, sucking a bright purple hickey underneath it. 

Jisung rolls his hips into yours. You can feel how absolutely rock hard his cock is through his sweats. 

“N-Need to touch you. Hah! I’m going insane, Y/N.”

Begs sound so good coming from his lips. 

You run your hands down his chest to tease at the hem of his hoodie before sliding them underneath the fabric and up his bare chest. The muscle that greets you underneath it is a pleasant surprise.

The hard lines of his abs and chest run along the pads of your fingertips. He flexes and tenses under your touch.

Jisung throws his head back with a groan, his weight shifts around on his feet. It feels so fucking good . Every single touch to his body is heaven sent. 

At the top of his chest, you curl your fingers and rake your nails down his skin.

The wail that tears from his throat makes your heart rate pick up ten fold. It sends a lightning bolt of pleasure through your body. 

“Oh my god, please do that again! ” Jisung begs, his mouth hanging open as he pants over and over again. It seems like he can’t catch his breath. 

Who were you to deny him?

With a featherlight touch, you let your fingers trail up, up, up his body. The closer you got to the top, the faster Jisung’s breathing picks up. 

Right before you curled your fingers again, you smash your lips together in another searing kiss. When you claw down his quickly reddening skin, his cry is swallowed up by your own mouth.

You don’t stop your fingers on their downward descent, you tease the waistband of his sweats, letting your fingers curl around the top of the band and touching the taut skin underneath.

“Ah, hah.” Jisung pants into your mouth. He leans forward and sucks on your bottom lip, pulling it back for it to snap against your teeth. “I want to touch you so bad, Y/N, please .”

“Be patient,” you say against his lips. He doesn’t hear it, but he feels it. A pathetic whine responds to your words. 

You kiss his lips a few more times before dropping down to your knees in front of him. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes out. “Oh god, oh my god.”

You grab his legs with both of your hands starting at the knees and run them up his thighs, taking your time on your ascent. 

“Fuck, fuck , this is really happening.” Jisung gulps. He pulls harder and harder on the ropes. 

When your hands reach the top of his thighs, you run one closer and palm his erection over the top of his sweats. A deep, guttural moan is Jisung’s only response. Even through his sweats you can feel how his cock twitches in your grasp.

His hips buck into your hand when you squeeze him. “F-Fuck, I– Oh god– This is really happening and I can’t even fucking see it .”

You smirk. Maybe you should show him a small bit of mercy. Just a small amount. 

Leaning forward, you kiss his cock over his sweatpants. Jisung gasps and twitches again.

You stand up quickly, coming nose to nose with him. Your hands come up to cup his cheeks, they’re so warm from his flushed face.

“Y-Y/N,” he gasps. You peck his lips, letting them linger on his while your hands come up to his ears to take the plugs out. “Y/N,” he repeats on your lips.

“Hi, Jisung,” you breathe against his mouth before kissing him again, letting the earplugs drop to the ground.

You don’t linger for too long, you kiss down his face, down his neck, and then you fall to your knees once more.

“Jesus, Y/N.” 

You don’t tease him too much this time, you grab the waistband of his pants and tug them down, his rock hard cock finally coming out. His tip is red and angry. God, how can a dick look so pretty? 

Just as quickly as you got his cock out of his pants, you wrap your hand around him, pumping your hand up and down slowly. 

“Ohhhh my goood,” Jisung mewls. His thighs tense up and flex each time you stroke up and down. “Fuck yeah, Y/N. God, your hands are so fucking soft.”

You tighten your grip and Jisung whines. 

“Yeah? Does that feel good, baby?”

His cock twitches in your hand at the nickname at the same time a tiny whine escapes his throat.

“Does it?”

“Y-Yes,” he answers shyly.

“Louder, Jisung.”

“Yes, it feels good!”

“Good boy.” Without warning, you lean forward and take the entirety of him inside your mouth.

You can feel his knees buckle and if it wasn’t for the restraints keeping him suspended from the ceiling, he probably would’ve fallen to the ground. 

“Oh, oh m-my, f-fuck, Y/N!”

You’re relentless. You bob your head back and forth on his dick, letting your tongue swirl around the tip when you come up just to go back down and swallow him completely. Jisung’s hands are balled into such tight fists that his knuckles are turning white.

So many different pitches of whines, moans, and groans fall so easily from his lips. Compliments come out in between each one. 

“So good,” he cries. “I can’t fucking– holy shit.”

In some part of your mind, you always knew he would be vocal during sex– but never this vocal. He hasn’t shut up once. Not that you’re complaining, quite the opposite really. You fucking love every single noise that he makes. Each one sends a shock down between your legs. 

Too often you’ve been with partners that conceal how you’re making them feel, but not anymore. Jisung is making sure you know exactly how well you’re doing. 

“Such a perfect mouth, oh god. So fucking warm.”

You let your hand travel up his hoodie again, his abs are clenching and releasing over and over again with how hard he’s panting, you can feel each one under your hands. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” he pants as your hand goes up. “Fucking hurt me, yeah, please, scratch me, Y/N.”

God, the way he’s talking to you is fucking sinful. It’s perfect .

You scratch down his chest just as harshly as you did twice previously. 

Again, Jisung lets out a wail, his hips bucking and fucking his cock down your throat. You gag around him but keep him down your throat regardless.

“I-I-I’m gunna, holy shit, Y/N, I’m g’na– g’na—”

Now, you can’t have that yet, can you?

Quickly, you pull off his cock, letting yourself take a gulp of air. 

Jisung cries out from his ruined orgasm. “No! Shit! Fuck! Why?”

You look around the room while he throws his mini temper tantrum. There’s a small kitchen off to the side of the suite. 

As if you have nothing better to do, you meander over to it, looking around. 

“Y/N?” Jisung asks, hearing you walk away.

“Hm?” you respond.

“W-Where did you go?”

“Still here, baby, why?”

He shifts around, pulling on the ropes. The red color on his ears is getting deeper and deeper. “Just um– Why did you leave?”

You giggle. “Looking for something.”

You open one of the drawers, close it, then open another until you find what you’re looking for. It glints and catches your eye in the third drawer you check. You pick up the knife that was inside the drawer.

You’re walking back in his direction with the knife in your hand.

“D-Did you find what you needed?”

“Yep.”

With frightening grace, you reach up and slice the ropes holding his wrists in the air.

He almost drops to the ground, but you grab a hold of him before he has a chance to fall into the carpet. 

Jisung wastes no time, he grabs at your waist with both of his hands. Through the silk fabric of your dress, you feel the heat of his touch. It scorches into your skin and you wish he would brand his very handprints there.

His lips are already on yours again, feverishly kissing you as if you would disappear if he stopped even for a moment. He takes one second to rip the blindfold off his eyes and then he’s back on your mouth.

The hands on your waist don’t stay there long. They run all along your figure, up in your hair, over your neck, grabbing your ass, gripping your hips, he’s everywhere. 

You back up a bit, pulling Jisung with you until the back of your legs are about to hit the bed. Quickly, you spin the two of you around, pushing his chest so that he falls back onto the bed. 

When Jisung finally blinks the confusion from his eyes, his breath catches in his throat at the sight of you at the foot of the bed. 

You’re looking at him like you’re about to devour his very soul. Your hair is frizzy and tousled, the straps of your dress falling off your shoulders, your lipstick smudged over your puffy, kiss swollen lips.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he murmurs. His fingers curl into the blanket.

You straddle his legs and crawl onto the bed, hiking the skirt of your dress up enough for Jisung to see the strong muscle of your thighs. 

“There’s no way I’m awake right now,” he whispers, hands grabbing at your bare legs and running them up to push your dress further up your body. “I must have been shot. I’m in Heaven right now.”

With a sultry chuckle, you cup his cheek and let your thumb swipe over his lips. “I’m real, baby.”

“Oh my god.”

You reach down and take a hold of his cock, pumping him up and down a few more times. Jisung moans and fights for his eyes to stay open, he can’t get enough of the sight of your hand wrapped around him.

With your other hand, you reach down and pull your panties to the side, revealing your dripping cunt. 

“Holy fuck, you’re so wet,” Jisung whines. His fingers run up your folds, collecting your wetness on his digits and bringing them up to his mouth. He moans around his own fingers at your taste, his eyes rolling back in his skull. “Please, I need to–”

You cut him off by squeezing his cock. “Next time. I need you now .”

“Yes, ma’am,” he squeaks out. 

As if he would ever complain.

You line his cock up with your entrance, Jisung grabs your hips with both of his hands, his thumbs pressing against the bone so hard. His breathing is getting faster and faster with each passing second.

Slowly, you sink down on his cock.

Both of you moan out in unison. The stretch feels fucking marvelous inside of you. Jisung’s eyes roll back in his head once more. 

His moans dissolve into silence as his mouth stretches open in an ‘O’. He throbs inside you right before you lift your hips just to drop them again. 

“Oh god,” you moan. “Jisung, you feel so fucking good.”

“Move, please ,” he begs and you bounce up and down again and again. Each time you drop down, it shoots pleasure down through your thighs and into your toes.

You grab his face and smash his lips with yours once more. His tongue immediately finds yours. 

Jisung’s hands wander from your hips all the way around your body to grip your ass while you ride him, his fingers dig into the flesh, kneading it with each bounce. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he murmurs into your mouth. “Pussy so fucking tight.”

“Just for you.”

“O-Oh, fuck yeah . Just like that, baby.”

Jisung pulls away from your lips to kiss down your neck the way you did to him earlier. He takes his hands off your ass to pull the straps of your dress down your arms for your breasts to fall out of the top.

“Shit, baby,” he whines before taking a nipple in his mouth.

Moaning, you pull his hair tighter, keeping his face buried in your chest– not that he seems to mind. His eyebrows pinch together, moans vibrating against your chest as he licks and sucks at your nipple.

His other hand comes up to pinch and pull at the other. Each tweak and flick of his tongue makes your walls clamp down on his cock.

“Your cock feels so good, Jisung,” you moan, clenching on him again. “Stretching me so good, so fucking big.”

He moans, sucking a hickey on the underside of one of your tits. 

The pitch of both of your moans begin to get higher and higher the closer you get to your peaks. Jisung’s heels dig into the carpet and he starts fucking up into you.

“Fuck!” you cry out, holding him tighter. His thrusts are so much wilder than your bounces were. Each one fucks right into your g-spot. “Ji– Jisung, oh god!”

“Yeah?” He pulls away from your chest and looks up at you with half lidded eyes. “Does that feel good? Am I making you feel good?”

“Yes, yes! Keep going, Ji!”

Every single thrust is driving you wild. Everything about him makes you feel crazy, everything down to the sweat beading on his forehead.

He reaches down and presses his thumb against your clit, making you cry out. He rubs circles in the same tempo as his thrusts. 

Closer and closer you approach your own climax, his touch feels too good.

Jisung looks down, watching where his cock disappears inside you over and over again. The very sight of it makes his mouth go dry. 

He groans and falls into your chest. 

“Say it for me, Y/N, say it,” he pants into your neck. “Say you’re close. I-I’m going to fucking bust, say you’re close, I need you to cum on my cock. Need it s-so bad.”

“I am, I am,” you repeat like a mantra. Your own pleasure is making you feel inside, his cock is abusing your walls just right, his thumb on your clit adding an extra level of insanity. 

You pull more at his hair.

Close, close, close. It’s all you can think of. Jisung is enveloping all of your senses. He’s everything in your mind and body and even your soul.

“Gunna cum!” you cry out. “Cumming, cu– cumming!”

With just three more thrusts, your walls clamp down on Jisung’s cock, triggering his own release.

“Jisung, fuck!”

He bites down on your neck, crying out and grabbing you tightly with his free hand. He clings onto you like he would die if he let go.

Hot, sticky cum drips over your walls, leaking out around his cock.

Both of you are panting heavily, unable to move and detangle yourselves from one another. 

Slowly, you release your death grip on his hair, letting your nails drag along his scalp like you did earlier. He hums against your neck, his hands finding your hips again, thumbs massaging you over your dress.

The gentleness of his touch makes you clench around him, your cunt still going through the aftershock of your orgasm.

“Jeeesus…” Jisung moans out, a bit overstimulated. You giggle and pull back to look down at your best friend. He looks up at you with a delighted smile across his face.

You giggle and continue to comb through his hair. 

His eyes fall closed happily and he leans into your touch.

This should feel awkward. You should be having some sort of ‘post-nut clarity’ where you freak out for sleeping with your best friend, but you’re not. 

Right here, right now, you feel safe and content. And your relationship with Jisung feels the same– if not better.

“I knew it,” he hums.

You cock your head to the side. “Knew what?”

“You’re obsessed with me.”

Laughing, you lean forward and press a long kiss to his lips. “Yeah.” You kiss him again. “Maybe I am.”

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

“So J was captured and tied up in another room in the convention center?” Chan asks.

You and Jisung had safely returned to Korea with The Refuge about two hours ago. And, per protocol, you both immediately went to Chan’s office for a debrief.

“Affirmative,” you answer. 

“And you got him back, obviously. No problems after that?”

“No, sir.”

Jisung shifts on his chair next to you.

“Uneventful beyond that one hiccup?”

You tongue your cheek. “Yes, sir.”

Chan eyes the two of you curiously from the other side of his desk. But, the mission was complete and everything was done. There was nothing he needed to be wary of. For now.

“Understood. I’ll read about the mission more in your reports. You’re both dismissed.”

The two of you are leaving Chan’s office with thinly veiled smirks on your faces. Just as you’re about to close the door behind you, he calls out.

“Might want to cover the hickeys next time!”