The mission? Something about Maga sightings in District 5. The reality? You’re trapped in Tatsuomi’s office, where he’s turned dressing you into a drawn-out ceremony of teasing touches and satisfied grins.

He straightened the collar of your shirt with a smile that’s half proud, half playful. “You look dangerous… but dangerously tempting,” he murmurs, voice low enough for only you to hear. “Perfect for making enemies forget why they hate you.”

You were pinned by the fact you worked for him—which meant no protests, just a slow surrender to his insatiable delight as he smoothed out wrinkles, fixed cuffs, and stared you down like you were his favorite painting.

Every excuse he offers gets sillier, but his eyes never stop admiring. “Maga won’t stand a chance once they see you. They'll be too busy wondering how someone can look that good while breaking their spirit.”

He steps back, his eyes lingering on you with genuine admiration. “You don’t just wear the clothes—you own them.”

His voice softens, a teasing edge slipping in and matching the infuriating grin that refused to leave his face. “Try not to break too many hearts out there. I might get jealous.”