#Experimenting with collar folding at the moment

[the-busy-ghost]

I love my old Scotland rugby top, but there's no denying that this shirt was designed to be worn with a certain amount of late 1970s chest hair and maybe some sideburns, and that's just not a look I'm capable of pulling off

[suguann]

tags. fem!reader, boss/employee relationship, stupidly domestic, little wife kink in there somewhere, nanny reader, single dad gojo, breeding kink [18+ only]

You sometimes find yourself wistfully imagining having a family of your own—a soft and sweet little bundle to cuddle and someone strong and capable (competent) at your side. But you can’t think of the last time you’ve been on a date where that person had the same interest in something more serious than casually sleeping around. 

Nannying seemed like the natural conclusion, especially when you’re still settling in a new city and barely scraping by for rent and student loans for a degree you don’t use. 

You pick up a few jobs just to get a feel for it: parents going away for a honeymoon, a last-minute call-in, a weekend business trip. Then a friend of a friend says she makes enough to afford one of those picturesque apartments that overlook tall high-rises and iridescent lights, the very ones you’ve dog-eared in real-estate magazines.

All it takes are a few phone calls and an interview until you’re packing up your apartment and taking the freeway outside of the city to somewhere remote and expensive, your car looking almost out of place parked beside the shiny new one in the long driveway.

You rap on the front door before you lose your nerve, and a few moments later, it opens, and you’re unsure who looks more out of place: this man with a smile too big, dressed for work, immaculate suit dampened by the baby rag slung over his shoulder and what looks like drool on his crisp collar, or you in your scuffed shoes and second-hand store clothes, standing in front of the nicest house you’ve ever seen.

“The nanny?”

“Yes,” you mutter, licking your lips. “That’s me.”

“Good, Ren just woke up from his nap,” he says, opening the door a little wider with a creak. The darkness behind him is almost comforting.

You take a deep breath and pass over the threshold into his home.

The entire time, his hand stays on the small of your back to steer you toward the nursery, and a shiver threatens up the length of your spine.

Three months. That’s how long it takes before your employer poses a problem.

It’s not that he’s a terrible boss; in fact, he’s quite the opposite. He lets you take over one of the many spare rooms in his massive house, pays you double the regular rate, and gives you time off when you ask for it.

It also helps that Ren is cute, only a year old, and still so sweet and tiny. 

Perfect.

The problem lies in that you know what he sounds like first thing in the morning, that he knows how you like your coffee, that he helps you fold laundry in the living room while the baby naps, how you catch him staring anytime you hold his son—his expression shuttered, a foreign thing that you can’t read. It’s all so terribly domestic. 

Terrible in that you think it’s a horrible idea to develop a crush on your boss, that you can’t help but get flustered anytime he so much as looks your way, even if it’s fleeting. How a sleepy smile before he retires to his room for the night can turn your thoughts into a scattered, ill-defined mess of what they used to be until all that’s left are words like spun sugar melting on your tongue.

But also, it’s not normal, at least not from your experience. 

You were lucky in the past if your employer even wanted to know about their kid’s day. Barely saying hello once they walk through the front door before sending money to your bank account.

Satoru—because that’s what he asked you to call him one afternoon while you were in the middle of feeding Ren mashed banana, a lazy smile curling the edges of his lips after you say it for the first time—wants to know everything: what Ren ate, if he laughed, how your day was, if you finally got your hands on that book you’ve been meaning to buy. 

“You don’t have to ask about my day,” you tell him shyly, accepting the glass of wine he proffers you after spending the past hour trying to put a teething baby to bed. “To make me feel better, that is.”

“Would it be so bad if I said I want to? You live here, too.”

You try to separate the two: that he cares as your employer and not for any other reason, and how you sometimes catch the soft look in his eye whenever he looks at you could make you believe otherwise.

Cool fingers cup your chin gently, thumb caressing the top of your cheek, now close enough that you catch a few of the warm notes of his cologne, a move that’s probably very inappropriate between a boss and an employee.

“I never say anything I don’t mean.”

You swallow, nodding, slightly shaky, breath caught in your chest. “Okay.”

“Good girl.” He retreats to his office before witnessing how those two words knock the wind out of you.

He starts saying things like our shopping list, our car—because he gave you the keys to the SUV parked beside his car and hasn’t touched it since; for you and the baby, he said, plus it’s terrible on gas when I drive it to work—our house, our baby. You don’t think he means to do it; it's more of an easy slip in conversation.

But then, one morning, he’s rushing around the kitchen, hair still damp and smelling like his shampoo, as he grabs his coffee and briefcase from the counter, kissing Ren’s forehead first…and then yours.

You’re half convinced that you imagined it—that his lips hadn’t stayed there for a second longer than necessary—until he straightens his tie and heads out for the day with a ‘be good’ tossed over his shoulder, and you’re left wondering if he meant to say that to you or Ren.

It sets off a chain reaction of thoughts whirling away in your head, leaves you wanting and wondering—only ever allowing yourself to fantasize a little when the house is quiet and dark, the baby monitor humming on your nightstand, and images of your boss flit behind closed eyelids as you fit your hand underneath your soft sleep shorts.

In the morning, you worry he can tell what you did, his smile almost too sharp, too something—more teasing than what you’re used to—his hand resting on your lower back as he leans down to kiss Ren’s chubby cheek while you make breakfast.

“I have a meeting this afternoon, so I’ll be late. Want me to pick up some food on the way home?”

No, you think, there’s no way he knows.

You spend most of the morning cleaning and folding the array of graphic onesies Satoru has a penchant for dressing Ren in, and the later half walking around the pool because it’s warm and Ren enjoys splashing around in the water. It’s enough to tucker him out for bed early, unable to keep his eyes open while eating a plate of mashed potatoes.

It’s also the first time in weeks that you have the night to yourself, no baby keeping you busy, no Satoru to—well.

After a long shower, you step out of the bathroom, moving into the hallway. And there are many reasons why you felt confident walking the few steps it took to reach your bedroom. Most revolve around what Satoru told you that morning, so you don’t expect him to be standing there, shirtsleeves rolled up, piercing gaze sliding down the length of you wrapped in a towel and little else.

“I brought home those drunken noodles you like,” he says when his eyes focus back on your face, his whole expression softening into a smile.

A beat. “Thank you,” you whisper, unable to look away.

He tucks the wet strands of hair clinging to your cheek behind your ear. “Why don’t you get dressed, and I’ll join you downstairs?”

The noise in your brain goes static.

You’re unsure what causes it, but everything changes when he comes home early one afternoon and finds you and the baby napping in the nursery. He has this soft look on his face and something else you can’t decipher with his piercing blue eyes settled firmly on you.

Ren coos softly into your shoulder. 

When Satoru picks him up and settles him in the crib, then walks you to your room—here, let me help you—and when he hovers in your doorway, you let him in without question.

He doesn’t waste any time peeling off your clothes, eager to have you naked and splayed out underneath him. You cum on his tongue more times than you can count until you’re silently begging him to fuck you.

He laughs, large hands spread over your tummy. 

“Use your words, baby. I’m not a mind reader.”

You feel like you’re someone else watching you from somewhere else, another body rocking against the length of your boss’s cock, back arching every time you manage to find the friction you need. He’s hard against your back, thick in a way that makes you wonder if he did enough to stretch you out. 

“I-I want—”

All other thoughts are obliterated by the stretch and press of him against your cunt. 

“Think I’m going to keep you,” he rasps, lips dragging over your throat. “Keep this drippy little cunt spread open on my desk whenever I want while the baby naps. Would you like that? For me to fuck you full until you give me a baby.”

You clench, nerves shot.

“Gonna get all round with my baby, stay here forever,” he mumbles when he draws away, and you can’t tell if the words are meant for you to hear or slip out without him realizing. “Fuck—breed my little wife until it takes—”

Your eyes roll up, lost in the little promises he paints across your skin, body shivering over and over until you’re sobbing from it until he has to clamp a hand down over your mouth—shh, you’re going to wake the baby—going limp when he finally cums, pressing as deep as your body will allow, as if he can somehow imprint himself there. 

Wonders if maybe he’s been building up to this moment all along. 

It’s so easy to lay there after, blissed out while he litters kisses across your face and collarbones, letting him lift your hips up to slide a pillow underneath, even though the position is awkward when he tries to cuddle you afterward.

His fingers draw shapes on your stomach, giving you a wistful look, like he can’t believe he’s laying here with his cum still dripping between your thighs—no matter how many times he scoops it up and pushes it back inside you. “Do you think it’ll take?”

And you don’t have the heart to tell him about the little foil packet of pills tucked away in your nightstand.

[t-tomuras]

༺༻ ─── • 𝐌𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

Pairing: Jing Yuan x Foxian!reader

Warnings: Teasing, fingering, slight pussyjob, nipping, slight clawing, light marking, biting, creampie

Wordcount: 3.1k

Notes: Here I am tentatively trying to dip my toes into the fandom with the dozing general < 3

Even the general has his vices, requiring moments of reprieve as he sees fit, what with the stresses of his position of authority despite how effortlessly carefree he can always appear to be. 

As does your own position, operating in tandem with the general on assignment as the Realm Keeping Commissions liaison, always maintaining an air of detached professionalism while equally being hospitable to uphold the Xianzhou’s pristine reputation while dealing with various crises simultaneously. Spine always pin straight, seeming perpetually perfectly posed from the moment you stand next to your general to the second you’re finally within the sanctity of solitude. 

Save for one other, that is, as his fingers trace down the exposed skin of your back after unclasping the fasteners on the high collar of your ensemble. 

“How do you dress yourself alone in the morning?” Jing Yuan questions on a light chuckle after shedding the ornamentation of his uniform followed by the layered top until his torso is bare before you. “It seems as though you always require aid to remove it.” 

“Then who better to supply it than the protector of the Xianzhou himself?” Cooed coyly before you spin on the balls of your feet, perfectly manicured tail sweeping the ground as fabric pools around them after it slips from your body. Stark nude as you drape yourself against Jing Yuan, reaching to loop your arms around his shoulders as he presses you into him by the small of your back. The soft flesh of your full chest crushed to the hard planes of his own, wasting no time in increasing contact with him as your lips seal over his own with a barely subdued hunger.

A kiss that’s returned with fervor as you’re walked backwards to his elegantly decorated mattress, too big for one man to occupy. Adorned with all the comforts one could crave, only complete when he lays you in it; so it’s fortunate you’ve come to warm it more often as the man that holds you works to soothe your worn bodies and sate shared salacious needs.  

Between the satin sheets and crushed velvet comforter you can truly see how tense he typically is as it translates into the passion you like to believe transcends a ‘mutually beneficial’ exchange between the both of you. You could convince yourself of it with the way he devours you in private if you caught the lingering glances in public, but always with your back turned or caught in conversation with other political figures and offworld visitors alike. 

Even so he likes to take his time with you, generous with his foreplay and typically you relish it but it’s been a long day of nonstop interaction. 

Whining into starving kisses when your general takes your wrists in one broad palm to halt you in the process of undoing his belt and shedding away the final layers of clothing that separate you from carnal contact. 

Writhing beneath him in a vain attempt to free yourself before his free hand is pinning your hips to the plush pillowtop while slotting himself between your spread legs. Close enough to feel the heat of his body but not enough to truly experience it even as you arch into the kiss. 

Eager tongue breaching the seam of his lips with a mewl, goading Jing into indulging in you, if even slightly. One hand still holding fast to both of yours, keeping your arms above your head while the hand at your hip slides beneath your body. Aiding in your arch as he caresses the small of your back, sinking slightly as he trails kisses from your lips, over your jaw and along your throat. 

Open mouthed and wanting, urging your thighs to reflexively clench at his sides, groaning when the only contact to your quickly dampening folds is his lower abdomen. Slicking the tantalizing trail of hair from his navel to his pelvis before Jing Yuan finally affords you with some reprieve. 

Touch blazing when calloused pads from years of finely honed swordplay roll over your sensitive bud. Melting easily into Jing Yuan’s touch as your hips twitch upwards, jerking needily and it births a softened expression on handsome features, neglected cock tenting his trousers as your pretty voice grows in volume. 

Soft whimpers crescendoing into sweet mewls in time with the slick clicking of your cunt as he preps you. Giving you just enough to feel good, to loosen up in more ways than one, but not tip you over the edge, not yet. 

Fixing you with a relaxed gaze as he props himself up slightly, fingers gliding through steadily soaking folds for thick digits to tease at your entrance. Prodding lazily until a well timed buck of your hips paired with a frustrated noise from plush lips forces his fingers to fill you.

Sighing out in relief even as he chuckles at your impatience, momentarily conceding to you now as he curls his fingers perfectly into that spongy spot that has you seeing stars the infinite cosmos could never compare to. Well versed in your body by now as he pumps his fingers expertly but he keeps the friction to your clit from the heel of his palm to a minimum. 

Winding the coil in your lower belly gradually while you’re steadily consumed in an inferno from meager kindling. Taunting you with release and you know it the moment your lidded gaze flits to his. 

Years of working closely with the man has allowed an ease in understanding his motives, you could read him like a book by now. Rolling your hips up into his hand and you can feel Jing Yuan pull back slightly before you click your tongue at him. 

Grasping at his wrist tightly, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at the amused quirk to his brow before you force yourself to soften. Loosening the knit of your brows to look more pleading than frustrated as you cup the general's cheek, pad of your thumb swiping affectionately over the mark that decorates the outer corner of his eye. 

“Kiss me,” a suspire of a sound as you sit up slightly while letting your fingers caress along his jawline before tilting his chin up. Leaving him to chuckle under his breath before chasing your lips, caging you beneath him as you lay flat amongst his pillows once more. 

Knees falling further open as if to make more room for him before your fingers fiddle with the copious buckles securing the harness like belt to his pelvis. Fumbling to undo the final clasp as his tongue swipes over your own, supplying a whine of annoyance for him to swallow when his hand rests over your increasingly frustrated fingers. 

“Require assistance?” Voice bearing a teasing lilt as he, much to your relief, effortlessly undoes his belt and pushes down the layers of his bottoms before lowering himself to you. Flushed tip gliding through your folds to coat himself in your wetness, rutting slowly into you with shallow rolls. Each rock leaves you twitching with every sweet kiss to your clit until your thighs wrap around his hips and the movement finally has Jing Yuan catching on your entrance. 

Sighing at the feel of him, thighs tensing as if that alone could hold him in place as your fingers press insistently into his latissimus muscles. Mewling slightly as he dips for a kiss, uttering a low “so eager,” against your lips. 

“You tease,” it could almost be taken in admonishment if a pleasured purr didn’t taint the tone. 

“I savor,” exhaled on a stolen gasp as he finally sinks into you, stretching you slowly. Staying true to his comment as he fills you inch by inch, broad palms pushing down on your hips as you arch from the mattress up into him. 

Finally tipping you over the edge for the first time tonight as he buries himself to the hilt, velvet walls convulsing sinfully around his cock as he drags his hips backwards slowly. Glancing down at where your bodies are joined to admire how you take him, relish the creamy rings that coat the base of his cock before your ankles hook at the base of his spine. Digging your heels into the toned flesh insistently, silently pleading for more.

Wrapping your arms around him in an embrace as you cling to Jing Yuan, rolling your lower body in time with the slow strokes he gives you but it isn’t enough. Shuddering breath along the shell of his ear, panting and whining while you try to hasten the pace but Jing Yuan has always been one for leisure. 

Chuckling into your own ear as he uses one arm to stabilize himself on the mattress while the other holds you to him. Low coo’s of ‘I’ve got you, slow down’ in contrast to your breathless ‘faster Jing Yuan, more.’ 

Frustration mounting when you feel the general flex corded muscles and expend a modicum of strength to keep you from bucking haphazardly and hastily into him. 

Leaning back just enough for golden irises, alight in the night, to drink in the desperate furrow of your brow and needy pout to pretty features. Softening him with the display so easily as the pad of his thumb swipes over the apple of your cheek before leaning down for another kiss as his arms lips beneath your back to press you into him. 

There’s an inherent tenderness to the action, the slow meld of his lips to yours before his tongue breaches the seam to taste you once more. Every encounter from the very beginning with Jing Yuan has been the epitome of intimacy and typically you reveled in it but tonight you’re starving. 

Evident in how you nip at his lower lip, pulling it away playfully before releasing it only to chase the contact again. Amusing Jing Yuan in the process, softening him as your hands splay over his broad back and knees climb higher as they frame his tapered waist now. Pelvis angled to feel each stroke deeply enough to steal air from your lungs, rip gasps from kiss swollen lips that leaves your general curious of just how delectable you look for him now. Urging him to pull back and bask in your pleasure, momentarily distracted as he appreciates the view. 

It allows you the opening to thrust your weight into his, allowing you to roll your bodies and switch the position. Straddling Jing Yuan now and his surprise fans the flames of your hunger, chasing his lips as your palm pushes into his shoulder. Pinning him to the mattress as you inhale deeply, exhaling with a throaty groan of relief as you rise and fall on his cock in a pace you have easier control of. 

But even still, his hands find the natural curve of your body, resting them leisurely as his head falls back into the mound of pillows.

“You seem especially worked up today.”

“Why would you think that, General? Could it be that I already had a tight schedule before receiving more work thanks to your delegation?” Your usually sweet and placating tone takes on a slight hiss as your nails dig into his shoulder blades, threatening to break skin as his hips slow in the methodical rhythm. Leaving you to emit a noise of complaint when even your attempts at bouncing to maintain the build of pleasure proves fruitless, resorting to pouting with agitated flicks of your ear. 

“Oh so you’re angry with me, is that what this is?” Clicking your tongue over his glib tone before a much more vocal whine rips from your throat when broad palms force your own hips to still. 

“Yes, I am angry and you’re doing well to exacerbate the feeling,” finally fixing him with a glare he thinks is precious as your delicate digits uselessly pry at his calloused ones.  

He gives a haughty face, handsome features fixed with that placating gaze he uses to diffuse the Grand Diviner as if that’ll melt away the scowl that pinches at plush lips. Eyes rolling at how Jing Yuan only chuckles at you now, the sound growing more boisterously as you swat away the hand that grips at the base of your tail and runs down the expanse of it affectionately. 

Adding a teasing, ‘so fierce’ when your ears pin backwards and your lip snarls. Writhing in his hold for a moment and your lids flutter at the fleeting friction applied to your clit. Grinding slowly until a shallow breath shudders from your lips, a gasp broken by a moan following suit as the hands at your hips drag you along his pelvis. Aiding the movement for a moment before your general is adjusting to sit up, pressing at the small of your back to keep you close to him as he does so. 

“Forgive me, little fox,” husked against the apple of your cheek as he moves in languid strokes, methodically and pointedly to reach all the places that make you twitch involuntarily. 

Jing yuans forehead nudging against your own, nose brushing yours and his lips a hairsbreadth away from your own. Humid puffs of breath mingling in the minimal space but he pulls away when you mean to close the gap, interrupting you with a cooly insistent, “forgive me.” 

“Fine,” your reply tinged with the slightest bit of exasperation before he’s muffling your clipped ‘forgiven.’ Swallowing the sound to keep for himself as he cups the curve of your skull. Limbs now lax with no intention of inhibiting your pursuit of pleasure. 

Whatever he did now, save for holding you still completely, would give you stimulation regardless. Bouncing eagerly and earnestly on his lap as your head lolls back, palms splayed out on whatever sculpted surface of his skin you could reach as pitchy keens tumble from your lips so much more effortlessly now. 

Feeling the telltale coil of your impending climax wind tightly in your lower belly and you chase the feeling, pelvis jerking into Jing Yuans. Racing to rapture and he doesn’t stop you now, makes no move to slow you down at all and relishes in how much noisier you become. 

Airy moans and soft babbling of his name slip from your tongue before you’re lost in the euphoria. Gasping sharply as the coil gives way and the feeling is so intense you think your vision blurs, not realizing the pearly tears that have gathered in your lash line are the cause. 

Nails digging deeply into your generals back as he fucks you through the high, rutting up into you with equal fervor. Filling the room with a cacophony of lewd squelching, the wet slap of skin, low growls and sweet ‘ah ah ah’s’ punctuated by hurried bounces. 

Until you show no signs of stopping, sure to coast into overstimulation and he’s well aware of what that does to you in the afterglow of your coupling. Leading to strong hands gripping more insistently to hold you to his body; his own climax could wait for now. 

Using his strength to halt your movements and threatening to ruin your return to rapture but you voice your displeasure less petulantly than before. Usually rounded pupils now narrowed into slits as your head snaps back to Jing Yuan's face. Confusion marring his face, hand rising to push hair from your face and his lips parting to explain himself before your fingers knot into long ivory locks. Yanking with enough force to angle his head to the wide and expose porcelain skin to sink your teeth into the sensitive flesh of his trapezius muscle.

Surprising the both of you that births a harrowing moment of clarity from the craze. Not from the deep groan that rumbles in his chest and reverberates against your own or the way he grips you with a near bruising force.

But from the following warmth that fills you full and how Jing Yuan’s biceps flex and tighten around your body while his own suddenly seizes. Turning his face to tuck his nose into your throat as his hips jerk up into your own for sticky seed to paint your walls in pearly ropes. 

Pulling a pleased hum from you as the fingers knotted in his stylishly disheveled locks loosen to move higher and rake soothingly at his scalp. Grinding slowly, rolling your lower body in languid circles to work your general through his sudden climax. Milking him for all he’s worth as you nudge gently at him, thoroughly enjoying how, in moments like these, he’s the most pliant. 

“Oh? That’s new,” giggling softly, voice a sweet coo that bears no real tease to the man, considering you quite liked his reaction. 

Now moving to brush your lips against the charming mark that adorns the outer corner of his eye as you follow the sculpt of his skull. Smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as his thumbs dig into the spaces where your legs connect to your pelvis, kneading small circles as Jing Yuan works to steady his breathing. 

The heaving of his broad chest gradually slows to even draws by the time you reach his throat, tongue swiping to taste the saline of his tacky skin and feel his thrumming pulse beneath your wet muscle.  

Another tinkling giggling sounds in the space between you as your innocent lapping turns to teasing nips dotted between insistent suckles in order to marr pristine alabaster. Earning a groan from Jing Yuan as his jaw tilts upwards reflexively, lolling slightly as you cradle his jaw opposite of your affections. 

Only satisfied with your work when you can already see the beginnings of bursted blood vessels bloom in the shape of your lips. Sighing as your litter him with more loving kisses as your general adjusts your positions, finally laying down to bask in the post coital bliss. 

Only moderately lamenting the loss of that full feeling you only ever receive when you’re alone with him. 

Taking a moment of reprieve yourself as you stare up at the ceiling before you feel Jing Yuan flex to pull you closer to him. Leaning up yourself to lean against his torso, drumming your fingers along his chest before tucking stray strands of starlight locks behind his ear. 

“I wish you the best of luck explaining the budding bruise near your Adam's apple, General.” 

“I’m certain the Realm Keeping Commission wouldn’t mind loaning me their most competent and dutiful administrator for all my delegation needs.” 

Caressing his jaw lovingly, body now free of the day's tension as your mold into Jing Yuan’s side. Silent for a full moment before your nails poke gently into the soft flesh of his cheek as you press into his skin and angle his head to meet your gaze, “don’t push your luck.” 

[cottonlemonade]

Help Wanted

word count: 656 || avg. reading time: 3 mins.

pairing: University AU!Tendou x chubby!Reader

genre: smut

warnings: mdni, nsfw

Tendou would have liked to say that he was a gentleman. But when you showed up in his dorm room and announced that you were sick and tired of being labeled the campus virgin and begged your best friend to just have sex with you, Tendou didn’t actually hesitate for more than three seconds before shrugging and saying, “Alright.”, making room for you on his bed.

His roommate blinked at the two of you before packing up his laptop and mumbling something about “going to study at the library then”.

He knew he should have maybe talked you out of it but his mind was too busy screaming at the opportunity. He figured, he’d casually invite you for coffee afterwards in the cafeteria or maybe order a pizza and then confess to you over some melty cheese that he’s been in love with you since that time you used red hair spray to dye your hair, just so you could raise your hand for him at roll call while he was busy finishing up a paper in the library at the last minute. You had worn one of his hoodies (a new one he bought several sizes too big just so he could lend it to you without you commenting that his stuff wouldn’t fit you) and his roommate had walked in on him sniffing the collar with deep deep breaths.

And now he lay between your plush thighs, heart pounding, licking his lips in anticipation as he peeled your panties aside. You’re still wearing a shirt which he found unfortunate but there was no rush.

Before he began, he stressed how important it was to ease into it. He didn’t want to hurt you, of course, so he thought, good long foreplay and maybe making you cum first would be a good idea.

He leaned in and set a couple soft kisses on your soft pussy. You gasped and tried to close your legs with him still at work. He looked up at you, asking if you want to stop. Wordlessly, you just opened your legs again and he grinned, swiping his tongue through the folds.

“You taste sweet…”, he commented and you hid your face under your arms but moaned when he used his fingers to expose your clit.

Wanting to make it a more interactive learning experience he brought his right index to your lips, “Can you wet that for me?”

You hesitate for a moment, peaking out from under your chubby arms and then because you really needed to him to continue, sucked it into your mouth.

“Mmmh, I can only imagine what those lips would do to a cock. But we can do that next time.”

Bringing his slick finger down to him, he began ghosting it over your clit. The noises falling from your lips had him throb in his boxers. Tendou increased the pressure ever so slightly, pushing the little pink button to the left and right, watching happily now wet you already became. He slurped loudly, enjoying every drop of you like the first iced tea of the summer.

“I’m gonna put a finger into you now.”, he announced and your expression, already so deliciously dazed, changed to new excitement. You gave a small nod and he slowly pushed into you, stroking your gummy walls.

“You’re so cute… I’m gonna put a second finger in, okay?”

You nod again. This time, he decided to tease a bit.

“You gotta talk to me, gorgeous.”

“Yes, please put a second finger in.”, you replied breathily and moaned loudly when he started to move them in and out.

“Now, I wonder what would happen if I’d suck your little clit now, too. - What do you think would happen?”

“I’d…. You’d make me cum.”, you said quietly, a definite whine in your voice.

“That sounds like fun. Let’s do that, hm? Let’s make you cream on my fingers.”

[cherryo]

nsfw alphabet for Denji <3

Nsfw alphabet Denji!!!

this is entirely self indulgent!! ive been drooling over him for the past month

warnings: pregnancy, collars, creampie and fem genitalia

A- Aftercare (what theyre like afterwards)

At first I doubt he really knew what to do and would leave you with cum all over and in you while he would just roll over. As soon as he knew what it was hes like THE KING OF IT!!!! Hes bringing anything you need or want!! Water? He’s jumping off the bed to grab a cup and pitcher with water and ice. A nice bath? Hes got it running already and will happily wash you!! I really think he would do anything for the one he loves so this is easy for him.

B- Body (what their favorite body part is of themselves and their partner)

His favorite of himself I think would probably be his arms? Idk why he just screams arms guy? Hes proud of the muscle and how easily he can pick you up and fold you in half with them.

Boobs. Nah fr though its definitely titties, small, big, medium? It does not matter!!! Hes leaving hickies all over them and taking care of them <3 kneeding and massaging, grabbing to stabilize himself if hes on top! For sure sucking on them if hes on the  bottom!

C - Cum (anything to do with cum)

Okay,,,,I think he loves cumming on and in you, but LOVES LOVES LOVES cumming in you!!!cant handle it when you consent to him letting go inside of you, hes a freak. If he can come in you, you better be prepared cause to him that means hes gotta do it as many times as he can before pulling out!!!

I do think he loves cumming on you and seeing the visible evidence of what you guys did, he cleans it up when you ask but he really just wants it to be on you the entire time yall are fucking.

D- Dirty Secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

Hes obsessed with panty sniffing, or anything to do with panties, he wants to fuck you while theyre on, have a pair on his dick while he jerks off. The whole nine yards, when you two fuck and are too feral or lazy to fully undress he goes bonkers. Loves the idea and action of pushing your panties to the side so he can slide in!!!

He also wants you to sit on his face!!!

He has so many of these but he wants to wake up/wake you up to being given head!! Or being fucked ;)

E- Experience (how experienced they are)

None. I think he thinks hes like a sex god after reading and watching porn, but alas when he goes to do it he realizes just how difficult it is to pleasure a girl and maintain rhythm.

Hes a quick learner though

F- Favorite position

DOGGY OHML HE GOES FUCKING FERAL!!! He loves bending you over and gripping your hips to pound into you. The thought of being able to push your head into your pillows or whatever surface you’ve been bent onto.

He also likes a good ol’ mating press, he likes seeing the faces you make and seeing just how far you can be folded in half. He also loves the fact that he can reach a deeper spot in this position and how fast it makes you cum! The easy access to your clit is also a bonus.

G-Goofy (how serious or goofy they are during the moment)

I think hes extremely goofy, his personality doesnt change at all <3 he thinks its sweeter if he can make jokes and be himself rather than become serious and not be himself!

H-Hair (how groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes)

Not groomed at all, he feels more naked shaved and waxed. He really only trims it, I feel like he would have like a forest down there! He really loves when his hair down there is wet from the both of yalls juices <3

I think his pubes are darker than the hair on his head!

I- Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect of it)

Honestly, I think in general hes very romantic and strives to be intimate. However in this situation he has no room to be romantic, he’s pussy drunk and cannot think of anything else than your pussy and body and the fact hes fucking you

J-Jackoff (how often do they masturbate?)

This mans right arm is jacked. He does it like twice every day, he has so much cum that even if he does that he can easily fuck you for HOURS later. He usually does it in the morning to get rid of his morning wood <3 that’s really only if youre not in bed with him.

He enjoys it, he also really enjoys mutual masturbation, he thinks its really nice

K-Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding kink: highest kink I think he has, he doesn’t necessarily want kids now or later (I highly doubt he wants to bring kids into this life lol) but the thought of you being round with HIS kid makes him go crazyyyyyy!!! He also likes not using condoms or pulling out (he’ll do either if you ask him to!)

Praise: we know from the manga that he goes insane for praise, specifically from girls. When you tell him hes a good boy, he goes 10x faster just to hear you moan it out again and again. If you tell him hes making you feel good or doing a good job, he’ll moan and whine out thank yous

L-Location (their favorite place to do it)

Mostly his or your rooms, hes not comfortable with doing it in public or anywhere not in his apartment.

M-Motivation (what gets them going? What turns them on?)

Literally anything you do, like you could be folding laundry and hed pounce on you. If you were dresses or skirts just be aware of him lifting the back of it up and pounding you from behind.

Knee high socks, frilly socks, leg warmers, the whole thing. I feel he likes the look of those accessories, he just goes feral for them.

Hes already horny 24/7 so hes ready to go all the time.

N-No (something they wouldnt do)

Public sex. Hes very protective and slightly obsessive over you and wants no one but him to see you so vulnerable (and sexy)

Threesomes, I feel like a lot of people want him and aki to have a 3some with the reader but I don’t think hed want that? As hot as it is lol I love reading those fics but for the same reasons I doubt he actually would do that

O-Oral (do they like head? Giving or receiving more?)

YES YES YES!!! HE LOVES GETTING HEAD AND GIVING HEAD!!!

He feels so so so good every time you give him head, I think his dick is super super sensitive especially his tip!

He loves making you feel good and what other than eating you out and giving you orgasm over and over again would make you feel good lol also smth about eating you out whether hes on top of you or youre sitting on his face, he loves it. Like goes insane for it!!!

P-Pace (are they going rough and fast? Slow and sensual?)

Rough and fast!!! He feels so good like that! If you ask him to slow down he will but he’d rather go at a fast and bruising pace!

Q- Quickie (their opinions, how often)

None in public BUT AT YALLS HOUSE? YES YES YES!!!! This man has to work HARD not to come immediately after he slips in, so this is perfect for him! Especially if hes sleepy and wants to do it but also wants to sleep

R-Risk (are they game to experiment?do they take the risk?)

Yes and no? I think hed be against it in public, but if his friends are staying over and you/him are horny then YES!!! He loves the thought of people hearing how good he makes you feel but just not seeing you

S-Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

At first none, like literally two pump king. After a while though when hes built it up hed be able to go 10 rounds easily!

T-Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He has none for himself but hes got different vibrators for you, especially those panty vibrators with the controllers >:)

I think he would be open to cock rings though!

U-Unfair (how much they like to tease )

Oh my fucking god!!!!! He doesn’t mean to be but he just needs you to have the best orgasm every time, so if it doesn’t sound good to him then he’ll let you cool down and try again. No matter how many times it needs to be restarted. He also accidentally overstims the both of you by never pulling out and continuously fucking you.

V-Volume (how loud are they, what sounds do they make?)

Good lord, this man is so fucking loud!!!!!! Like holy shit hes moaning, groaning, whining, grunting, sounding like a fucking animal with growling theyre such intense and hot sounds that you just cant get enough of them.

W-Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

This is completely based on the first volumes cover and the fact hes referred as a dog/puppy throughout the series but I think he would love to have one of those giant clunky collars on. maybe not necessarily into the whole ‘leash and collar’ thing but more of just he pressure on his neck that your hands cant provide

X-X-ray (lets see whats going on under those clothes)

OKAY OKAY IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE!!!!

Big dick.

No but really, definitely 7 inches hard, I wanna say hes a show-er rather than a grower.

Curves slightly to the right and very veiny!! Its really pink, super sensitive and leaky.

Y-Yearning ( how high is their sex drive?)

Hes yearning 25/8!!!!!! He knows how to some what control himself,,,,,,but hes constantly wanting to be inside your warm pussy. He wants to go round after round, once he got a taste he just cant get enough. Z-ZZZ (how fast do they fall asleep after?) HES OUT ONCE YOU GUYS ARE DONE FOR SURE. Hes so so so so sleepy all the time, so when youre satisfied and hes satisfied and hes done his duty of aftercare, hes out.

[twstfanblog]

~Manhwa AU- A Fairytale Do-Over~

A/N: Holy shit look at this. the first chapter of the manhwa AU! Hope you guys enjoy! I'm gonna look into making a story title card for this series, to be added later! Word Count: 2.5K Pairings: Crewel/Crowley (They hate each other but they are married) Warnings: Mentions of blood Next

Yuu snaps awake, body thrown forward by the force of a scream that had refused to leave her throat finally ringing out into the air. She pants, eyes wide, blurry vision focusing over time as she calmed herself. Her hands traced along her surroundings, the soft covers of a bed, the fur of a stuffed animal…

Her breathing had finally slowed, allowing her to slump back into the overstuffed pillows that normally adorned her bed. She…survived? That was the most terrifying experience of her life. The echos of summer bugs buzzing in the garden, the harsh light of the sun in her eyes, the burning of the stone on her skin that slowly grew wet before she slipped away…

Looking out the window she noted how it was nighttime. A question of how long or how many days she had been out was barely pondered before she noticed her curtains. The color to be more precise. The soft, chiffon pink that ombred into a deeper shade with gold threaded stars scattered closer together near the bottom of the fabric. Lovely drapes, but not the ones in Yuu's room at that moment. She had a set of thick, light-blocking dark teal drapes, as she had her room redone years ago, they matched better.

But, she had owned this set of pink curtains since she was a child.

She blinked, staying down, her eyes started to roam around the room. Taking it all in just how soft and whimsical the design was. The dream room of a little girl on the edge of leaving social infancy and still not allowed to be called a young lady. Not at all the room of her twenty-year-old self.

Looking down, she didn't see her dark-colored long nails with delicate gold designs. Instead, she saw two tiny hands with short and neatly cared-for nails. Her eyes travel upward on her right arm, crisp white ruffles leading into light purple velvet sleeves. She scrambled out of bed, falling onto the plush carpet face first as her legs were tangled in the soft grey duvet. Recovering, Yuu made her way to the full-length tri-fold mirror stationed in the corner of her room. She stood before it, drinking in her appearance.

Small. She looked so small.

A round baby face stared back at her, large black eyes with perfect baby doll lashes. She was wearing a long-sleeved nightgown; cozy and warm, buttery soft and intricate lace almost bursting from every opening, small pearls used as buttons keeping her collar closed. 

She looked like a doll, an adorable little doll. Just the way her papa would dress her until she turned 13 and he allowed her to finally have more say in her wardrobe. Yuu slowly lifted her hands (So tiny), one to pat her soft cheeks and the other to run down a braided pigtail of two-toned hair. She breathed out in a shudder, her voice higher than she remembered, before she turned and ran out of her childhood bedroom.

Running down the hallway, Yuu Crowley realized she was eight years old, again, for some reason. But she couldn't complain. It was better than meeting her end by bleeding out at the bottom of the hot summer stairs of the royal garden…her feet were cold now that she thought about it. Looking out the grand windows of the manor as she ran, she realized they were frosted over. Bare trees seen in the distance through the ice in the chilly late hours of the night. She should have put her slippers on; Papa had made her a knitted pair that looked like his snow boots that she loved…

Soon she came to the double doors, or what she remembered, of her parents' room. Yuu reached a small hand to one of the levers and quickly shuffled her way inside. 

She doesn't remember entering her parents' room much, never had a need to. She scarcely remembers them even entering her own room, but maybe that could change; maybe she could spend more time with her parents and learn more about them this time. Yuu looked around, noting the room looked different from the most recent memory of the space. She did really like the look of the iridescent curtains covering the door to their large balcony. The sheer fabric casting the room into an almost eerily shifting color tone, making the area calm and dreamlike even in Yuu’s awake state. Catching her breath, Yuu Walked closer to the lavishly dressed bed, staring down at the rare uncovered face of her father.

Dire Crowley, Grand Duke of the Noctorn Empire, arguably one of the most powerful men in the land. And if you asked her papa, without a doubt one of the most frustrating. He snored, mouth hanging open with his star and moon printed button-up pajamas messy from his tossing and turning; a loveable embarrassment…

A gasp calls her eyes to look at the other side of the large bed at her papa. Divus Crowley nee Crewel, Grand Duchess of the Noctorn Empire. He had his hair wrapped up in a fine patterned scarf and a hand clutching his silk robe closed, his eyes wide as he stared at her before huffing.

Divus leaned into his hand, taking care to not smudge the cream spread under his eyes as his lips turned into a scowl, “What are you doing up, puppy? I know it's far past your bedtime…” To any other person, Divus looked as though he was annoyed to be dealing with his child, and he was. But after years of knowing, loving, and being loved by her papa, Yuu was aware he was annoyed that his method of putting her to bed seemingly needed to be worked on again, not that she was bothering them.

“...” Yuu looked at her papa, blinking before taking in a shaky breath and whispering out her question, “Can I sleep in bed with you?”

“...Oh, puppy…” Divus groans, an elegantly sharp nail tapping against his creased brow. His darling daughter was eight now. Close to the double digits and being expected to start behaving in a mature manner, yet still so painfully young. He had somehow managed to train his clingy toddler to sleep in her own bed years ago, a feat that was hard enough as is. But how was he to deny his puppy his comforting embrace when she was still so cute!?

Clasping his hands over his mouth, he breathed in. Raising an eyebrow at his strangely still daughter he asked, “Why do you want to sleep in our bed, puppy? You haven’t asked since you were four…”

Yuu blinks, taking in another quivering breath as it all seemed to be hitting her at once. The years of her friendship with the men she grew to love that meant nothing in the end, the years of cold eyes and harsh off-handed comments. The fall, the crack, the pain, the blood.

“...I died…”

“...” Divus sat up straighter in his bed, eyes gaining a new worried flicker as he stared at his daughter, “What?”

“I-I…I…” she hiccuped, the tears finally welling in her eyes as her hands clenched onto her nightgown. Words were lost as all she could do was take in shuddering gasps and let out pitiful chokes, unable to stop the grief fully settling into her body.

Divus slapped Dire's chest, each hit coming quicker and harder the more distressed Yuu's cries became, “Dire. Dire! Wake UP, you crow BASTARD!”

Dire blinked his eyes open, bewildered as to why he was being forcibly woken in the middle of the night. His remark quickly lost on his tongue as he noticed his crying child right beside him, “Oh, my darling! What's made you cry like this?”

“Stop asking stupid questions and pull her into bed!” Divus slapped Dire’s shoulder, nearly punching the other man in an effort to bully him into doing as he said.

“Ow! I am!”

Yuu started to sob as Dire gently pulled her into the bed, placing her between the two fretting adults. She could feel their arms wrap around her, trying to soothe her tears with soft words and gentle pets. Her father had rung his service bell like a madman, no doubt sending the servants into a panic and scrambling to heed his call. Soon a flustered servant ran into the room, Dire ordering them to bring a midnight snack selection of his daughter’s favorites, anything to ease his child's crying. Yuu didn't get the chance to eat any of the snacks, having slipped into a pitiful slumber locked in her papa's arms.

She had somehow traveled back in time over a decade, long before her death and the betrayals of her closest friends. And as she laid curled between her loving parents, she made the decision to not look this gift in its mouth. For whatever reason, she was given a second chance and Yuu didn’t plan on dying the same way twice. Her old life wasn't worth repeating a second time, she knew her heart couldn't take it again…

The morning wasn't much better. Dire and Divus had canceled all of their meetings, choosing to crowd and dote on their daughter. Yuu had been strangely quiet since she woke up. Even throughout Divus's daily outfit selection, she had remained silent, letting her papa hold up dress after dress to her body without complaint. They had moved to the family lounge of the home to spend time together after breakfast.

The family lounge had always been Yuu’s favorite room past her own bedroom. Dark wooded panels caging in forest-printed wallpaper that was so detailed it almost felt real. Artwork of dogs and crows littering one of the walls as though they were locked in a never-ending war as her fathers keep replacing portraits with their favored animal. Couches framing a large and elaborate bricked fireplace, the fire's flickering warmth in contrast to the bleakly white outside.

Dire and Divus were quiet, each almost afraid to speak to break the silence. It was concerning, the way things had progressed from the early morning hours. Dire looked at his family from his armchair, watching Divus fuss and pick at their child in an attempt to engage her in conversation. Yuu would only give weak answers, seeming content yet still so tired. She would give little sighs and nuzzle into the fur-lined collar of her papa's long-tailed vest whenever Divus pulled her into a hug. His sweet, rambunctious child had never been so reserved and passive. Not even as a baby…

Divus was barely keeping it together, emotional yet holding it in for the sake of his daughter. The fur-clad man moved to busy himself by brushing Yuu's hair into more styles he had been meaning to try. The fact she let him only made his nervous energy stay and slowly fester, “Hmmmm…half-up styles look more elegant for you right now. But you still look positively adorable with pigtails…which do you like best, puppy?”

“...I don't mind what you pick.”

The comb in Divus's hand snaps, the man holding back his growl and stomping away, muttering he was going to gather more hair accessories. He loved his daughter, he truly did. But she was possibly the most argumentative, wiggly child he had ever known and he knew it was from his blood. While any other day he would have been overjoyed at Yuu allowing him to dress her up to his heart’s content, knowing she had a breakdown no more than ten hours ago ruined whatever joy he could gain. A feeling that was only growing as she refused to explain herself.

Dire watched his husband stomp out of the room, standing from his seat and kneeling with a smile at Yuu, “My darling, do you want some cake? Or maybe a new doll? Tell your papas, we will acquire anything your heart desires…”

Yuu was quiet, unable to look at her father. As the seconds passed, she couldn’t stop the hiccup of her breathing as another wave of tears crashed over her. 

“Oh, my sweet girl…” Dire quickly gathered her into his arms, patting her back when she clung onto him. He shushed her cries, walking with her as he would have when she was younger to soothe her.

He and Divus share a worried glance across the room as the other man re-entered the lounge. Yuu had had nightmares before, that was simply a staple of childhood. But they were always told to them with a smile in the morning over breakfast. She'd describe them almost with a sense of pride at how hard her little mind had worked to terrify her. But this dream of her dying had truly terrified her. They were quickly reaching past the realm of simple concern and into the fields of trepidation; Crowley worried if it was a dream of foresight. If he needed to prepare for an unseen threat to his child.

A pair of servants announce their presence with a knock from the doorway, both wearing excited smiles. One of them stepped forward, almost giddy as she bowed and presented an ornate silver tray holding a few letters in a neat line, “The mail, my lords!”

Crewel and Crowley lock eyes, both of them smiling. New years had passed and the next major event of the empire was the young prince's birthday party. Malleus was one of the people Yuu adored most; without a doubt, the invite was the item needed to lift their child's mood.

Divus rushed to the servants, snatching the black letter from the tray and holding it up in excitement, “Oh, puppy! Look what's arrived!”

Dire beams, trying to pull Yuu from his shoulder to look at the elegant black and silver lined envelope sealed closed with the enchanted green wax of the royal family, “Darling~! The prince's birthday invite has arrived, now you and your papa can finish your dress! And the present you were so excited to give-”

“No.”

…

The servants looked at each other, the girl holding the tray quickly scurrying back out of the room with the other close behind. Excusing their presence, they closed the doors of the private family room and left the three in their silence.

Divus's hand was shaking, eyes looking toward Dire with a barely contained fury as though he were the one to cause this dramatic change in their child.

Dire nervously averted his eyes, his arms holding Yuu tighter to use as a shield against his husband's anger, “Dearest…what do you mean ‘No’? Do you not want your papa to pick out your dress-”

“I'm not going…I don't wanna see Malleus”

…

Divus felt the letter flutter to the ground from his slack grip, his face ashen at the shock, “...CROWLEY!”

Dire was already across the room, Yuu still in his hold as he fumbled with a telephone, “I'M CALLING! I'M CALLING!” He rang for a doctor, demanding they come to their home at once to give his daughter a check-up. 

Their worry had fully bubbled into a hysteria. Yuu Crowley, refusing the invite of the crown prince Malleus, his child had clearly fallen deathly ill…

[crystalrabbit246912]

First Year Shenanigans

A lot of this will be based off of my personal experiences altered slightly, so if this seems a little weird or OOC, I apologize.

Imagine the school (or maybe just the first-years or a single Dorm - Heartslabyul, probably) having a picnic and Ace or Deuce spill Gatorade or Twisted Wonderland's equivalent of it on their hot dog, but aren't allowed to get another one because each student's only allowed to have one, so they still eat the hot dog, and they're like "It's not bad." Cue the confused reactions.

Also imagine the first-year group trying to cram all of them onto a single blanket because Ace or Epel wanted to see if they could, but failing and just being very disappointed for a moment before shenanigans start again.

Away from the picnic idea, I like the idea of Yuu knowing how to fold origami, which isn't a thing or if it is, not very well known, and giving it to the others and when Yuu walks into their rooms months later, they see the origami and go "You still have that?" And the person whose room it is gets flustered.

Along with the origami idea, I can see Yuu making an origami cicada and throwing it at one of the others while yelling "Cicada!" This starts a game among the first-years where the one who has the cicada has to throw it at one of the others and yell "Cicada!" They even make a verb for it. "Who just cicaded me?" "I need to cicada someone soon." And so on.

This is a private thing for a while until Ace cicadas Riddle because he felt like it. Riddle gets very confused and collars Ace until he explains the game to him and removes the collar. From there, the upperclassmen slowly get included in the game because Riddle would get Trey, Trey would get Rook or Cater, Rook would get Vil, Cater would get Kalim or Lilia, and so on.

From there, the cicada thing becomes a school-wide game where the cicada circulates around everyone for a while and if it falls apart Yuu just makes another one for the cicaded person to hold. Making a new cicada is strictly forbidden unless the previous cicada breaks because they don't want a bunch of cicadas. One is enough.

At some point, Ortho writes up a bunch of rules and gets most people to sign off on it to agree, then hangs it up and gets everyone else participating to sign it. (Some people decided not to participate and there's a list of who you're not allowed to cicada)

The teachers don't know for a while (other than Sam, since his friends on the other side told him what was going on) until the cicada falls back to Ace and he cicadas Deuce by chucking it straight into his face and screaming "HA! CICADA!" right as Crewel walks in and get extremely confused.

The teachers are exasperated by this, but since there are actually rules to the game that are being followed, they let it go as long as the cicada isn't being thrown during classtime. Multiple cicadas have gotten confiscated like that, but they can always get Yuu to make a new one.

If Yuu ever leaves the school premises for a period of time for some reason (like Camp Vargas, Fireworks of the Land of Hot Sands, etc.) they just leave a box full of premade cicadas in Ramshackle with instructions for it to not be touched unless they need a new cicada lest Yuu stop making cicadas for them.

Of course, since no one wants that, they don't touch the box unless they need a new cicada because the old one got confiscated or destroyed (usually by magic because of reflexes. Not many people can cicada Rook or Lilia because of their keen senses.)

[sungbeam]

007!ji changmin x f!reader

you're sent to montenegro to infiltrate a high-stakes poker game, but with the world hanging in the balance, it's a good thing m's sending her best employee along with you—agent 007, ji changmin.

▷ genre, warnings. f2l, james bond/007/spy au, action, suspense, pining(?), minimal angst, humor bc i'm me, violence, blood, death, mentions of alcohol, mentions of weaponry, mentions of corruption, swearing, kissing, near-death experiences, mentions of terrorism but not explicitly discussed, the ending is kinda cheesy im sorry it's late and i like making him yearn, barely proofread (dudes it's so late when im writing this)

▷ word count. 11.1k

▷ based on. casino royale (2006)

a/n: this is for @winterchimez ally's 007 files collab! pls check out the other fics that have been posted 😎 also, this is way lighter than the actual movie, so uhm, yeah!

YOU KNEW FROM THE MOMENT you first stepped into your position as an agent of the Treasury, that Kenneth Kang would be a thorn in your side. Perhaps not even a thorn, but a massive pain in the neck, the back, the ass. He was a man with a helm of pomade for hair and an ego the size of Russia, who, for some odd reason, despised you.

It was funny… the last time you checked, an entity such as Russia wouldn't be so easily threatened by someone like yourself. But here was Kenneth Kang, continuing to email you passive aggressive correspondence as if he wasn't butthurt the director chose you for this task rather than him.

After all, only the best of the best were selected to assist MI6 with their assignments. The fate of the world hung in the balance.

You told Kenneth just that in your last (hopefully) email to him for the trip: The quarterly reports are still due on Monday, Kang. Remember that Director Song excused me from them because I'm off to go save the world—ta-ta! Or something to that effect.

It was unfortunate the government monitored everyone's emails or you would've signed off with something wildly hilarious like “Love (if pigs flew), Director Song's Favorite <3 (not you)”—that would stick it to him—

A clearing throat drew your attention away from your laptop so abruptly, you were glad you didn't get whiplash.

“This seat taken?” You didn't catch a clear glimpse of the man's face before he was already claiming the seat across from you. The voice was awfully familiar, and when you finally saw him, you understood why.

You nearly did a double take, but the surprise swiftly melted away like glaciers in the spring to something like warm amusement. “Ah, do I—uh—know you, sir?” You asked, gently folding your laptop closed so you can gesture to the teapot before you. “Tea?”

Ji Changmin leaned back in his chair, eyes darting from the view outside the train car window and back to you. He dragged his gaze up and down your form, the back of his knuckles pressed against his lips. It did nothing to hide his smile. “Tea would be lovely, thanks.”

You obliged, refilling your cup with the hot beverage and pouring a decent amount into the extra teacup and saucer on his half of the table.

The two of you were currently on a train to Montenegro. Less than 48 hours ago, you were summoned into your director's office, only for the head of MI6 (the elusive M) to join you. You were debriefed on a high stakes poker game being hosted by a man notoriously reputed for funding terrorist organizations around the globe. You were told that M would be sending her “best” along with you to be dealt into the game—you were never given the agent's name or identification number.

But now that you were nearly an hour's ride away from Montenegro, it seemed he finally decided to reveal himself.

“Are you sure you don't remember me, Miss?” He asked, eyebrows raised over the rim of his teacup. “I was so sure that I left a lasting impression on you the last time.”

You slowly raked your eyes over the sharp, dark blue suit he wore, the white dress shirt beneath opened up at the collar, his wrist fitted with a watch that glistened in the afternoon light filtering in through the window. He had cropped his hair since the last time you saw Agent 007, M's so-called “best.” That was about two years ago, when there was a joint-branch charity gala and the two of you shared a dance before he was called away. Before that, you reckoned it was likely your graduation from Cambridge.

Time flew, you supposed, and you'd both been busy.

The corner of your lips lifted as you took a ginger sip of your tea. “Well then, you'll have to do a better job this time. What brings you to Montenegro?”

“Ah, business. You know how it is.”

“A truly dull answer,” you remarked. He couldn't come up with better conversation? You expected more from the man who always prided himself on buttery smooth lines. Where was the fun in ‘business’? “No wonder you've got all of that on. You're dressed like you're about to go buy a company.”

“Could I buy your company?” He asked in jest, tilting his head to the side.

You set your teacup down and a smile flitted over your lips. “I don't think you'd ever have enough money in the world for that.”

He chuckled then and ran his tongue over his bottom lip, catching a droplet of tea clinging to it. “Challenge accepted.”

When the train pulled into the station at Montenegro, it was just about a quarter past two in the afternoon. You and Changmin stood up from your cozy two-seater table to prepare to disembark. You rifled through your laptop tote for your wallet, but before you could retrieve your money, Changmin was already dropping bills on the table.

“Is this yours?” He asked, placing a hand on the bag stowed above the seat. It was a duffle bag that ranged on the smaller size with enough room to store your toiletries, emergency items, and any other things you might have needed. You were informed that clothing and the like would be in your accommodations waiting for you—there must have been a strict dress code for this event.

You shouldered your purse. “Yes, I'm traveling light.”

“Same here.” He grabbed your bag for you, and the two of you were off, shuffling down the aisle toward the nearest exit. Light, indeed. He didn't seem to have any luggage on him, but you supposed an agent of his caliber was provided everything he needed at his accommodations.

The train station, at this hour, was rather busy. People bustled to and fro to get to their trains, the parking lot, the ticket booth, the works. Your instructions once you'd arrived in Montenegro were to get in touch with the agent who was assigned to this case, and that you already accomplished. Until now, that was about all you knew, barring the general mission at-hand.

“I assume you’ll be staying at the Hotel Splendide, as well?” You voiced to him as you walked by his side toward the valet at the front of the station. You never knew a train station to have a valet, but you supposed it made sense if there were luxury, long-haul train cars.

“Your assumption would be correct,” he said. “In fact, we’re sharing a room.” The reveal of this information nearly had you tripping over your own shoes, and you were sure you saw a ghost of a smile make it onto his lips. You narrowed your eyes at him as he carried onward—of course, the two of you were sharing a room. What cover did MI6 even come up with? Something incredibly original like a married couple, you’d bet. Or, god forbid, a man and his mistress. (The thought made you gag.)

Changmin made eye contact with the valet boy, his chin inclining toward him. “Afternoon. It should be under ‘Ji.’”

The boy traced his finger down the edge of his tablet screen and his eyes lit up in recognition. “Ah yes, Mr. Ji,” he said, grabbing a keychain from his station and tossing it over to Changmin, “your car was just delivered two minutes ago. Have a nice trip, sir.”

“Thank you.” A rolled up bill was exchanged so fast that you thought you’d imagined it, and Changmin was walking onward down the length of the curved curb toward a parked vehicle. You followed swiftly after him, and upon further inspection, realized that the vehicle he was striding towards was a sleek Aston Martin in a classy shade of silver. It looked like something straight out of Hollywood, the sight nearly making your knees buckle. It was enough to say that all thoughts of you sharing a room with Changmin flew out the Aston Martin’s window.

Changmin gave a laugh at your reaction, opening the passenger side door for you. “You look more excited to see this car than me, sweetheart.”

“Was I that obvious? She’s beautiful.” You couldn’t help but grin back as you slipped into the smooth, leather seat. The interior was just as beautiful and sleek, with dark colored leather and a shiny center console. While you buckled yourself in, you heard Changmin deposit your bag in the backseat before rounding the car to take his place in the driver’s side.

“I can’t say I disagree,” he said, the door slamming. He retrieved a pair of aviator sunglasses from a compartment above the rearview mirror, donning them, then flashing you a dimpled smile. “Shall we?”

Changmin revved up the engine and pulled out of the train station's front lot onto the scenic road that would wind down the mountains to reach the portside where Hotel Splendide was located.

“I haven't seen you in two years, have you been well?” You piped up, now that the two of you were alone.

He hummed. “Ah, for the most part, yes—I’ve been alright.”

“Trotting the globe, I bet?”

“You'd win that bet, for sure,” he mused. He passed you a brief glance, turning his eyes back to the road. “And you?”

You mimicked the humming sound he'd made earlier. “I've been decent. Just work most days; you know how it is.”

He nodded his understanding. “Social life just as dead as uni?”

An incredulous sound flew out of your mouth, your hand swatting his arm to coax an impish smile from him. “I have friends!”

“Significant others then,” he offered.

You bristled in your seat and met his grin with a stink eye. “There are more important things than finding romance.”

“Still the same Yn as I remember,” he teased. “Now I know you're not an imposter.” A beat of silence, and then, “M must have been very pleased with your performance records to have approved of your director's choice. Not that I'm surprised; you've always been exceptional in your field.”

You turned your head to face the window on your side, barely hiding the pleased smile on your face from his compliment. It had taken a lot of hard work to get where you were, and you should've been proud of yourself. “I appreciate that. Though, I'm sure the fact that we know each other might have something to do with it, too.”

“I think that's just an added bonus,” he remarked optimistically. “You'll know how to keep me in check.” That was, literally speaking, exactly what your role here was. While Changmin was dealt into the game, you controlled the amount of money he was able to use or bet with. Because you were the trusted agent of the Treasury, you would be privy to the amount of money appropriate to use from the government's coffers.

“Who knew one partner project would lead to us saving the world together?” He added offhandedly with almost a nostalgic sort of whimsy.

“Are you ready to be a team player this time, though?” You asked, eyebrow raised. “The rumors say you enjoy flying solo.”

“I fly solo when it's dangerous,” he corrected. Which, you guessed, was most of the time in his line of work.

“So you're saying this mission isn't dangerous?”

“A poker game?” He laughed. “The only dangerous thing about it is gonna be how fast I'm going to win.”

The Hotel Splendide was as splendid as its name suggested. The grand, white limestone facade was carved with arched windows and statues, sleek columns and balconies. This side faced out into the waterfront, giving all arriving patrons a beautiful view of the port.

Changmin directed his car into the cobblestone roundabout at the front of the hotel. When he brought the vehicle to a stop, a bellboy in a maroon colored uniform opened your car door for you and offered a hand to help you out.

“Thank you,” you murmured, rolling your neck and stretching your limbs from the hour-long car ride.

Changmin emerged from the driver's side with his keys in hand, speaking to another attendant about being careful with his vehicle. He rounded the car just as the bellboy grabbed your duffle from the backseat.

“Welcome to the Hotel Splendide. This way to the check-in counter please,” the bellboy said, gesturing toward the front door, framed by an amber-toned awning and crowned in a myriad of flags from around the world.

You felt Changmin's palm warm the small of your back as you clutched your laptop purse in your hands. “Of course, thank you.”

The hotel’s foyer was just as magnificent as its outside. A crystalline chandelier hung from the high-domed ceiling, painting the room in a luxurious champagne gold, while the marble floors were lined in a deep crimson velvet. The front desk was to your immediate left with a number of staff stationed behind it.

The woman you and Changmin went to greeted you both with a polite smile. “Welcome to the Hotel Splendide. May I have the name of your reservation, please?”

“Ji,” your friend answered, “James Ji.”

Your eyebrows flew to your hairline.

“Ah,” the woman said, “but of course, Mr. Ji. Yours and your assistant's suite has been prepared for your arrival.”

Assistant? While she readied the key cards for you, you met Changmin’s gaze with a number of questions in your eyes. He only answered with a helpless expression.

Assistant? As if.

For fear of jeopardizing the mission by correcting the cover MI6 so generously assigned you, you reluctantly kept your mouth shut.

The desk clerk pushed a pair of cards across the polished wood toward you and Changmin—key cards. “These are your keys for your stay in room 700. All amenities, such as room service and the spa, are included in the fees you paid while booking. Your luggage will be delivered to your room for you. Anything you might need may be addressed via the phone in your suite or here at the front desk.”

(Assistant? Did you look like a fucking assistant?)

Changmin collected the room keys and passed you one. “Excellent, thank you. Did any mail arrive for me?”

“Yes, sir. A small parcel was delivered directly to your suite, as well as several garment bags. You'll find them in your wardrobe. Is that all?”

With nothing else to be addressed, you and Changmin thanked the front desk attendant and you were shuttled toward the elevators at the end of the hall. It was a good thing the elevator carriage made a swift arrival, because as soon as the doors slid closed, you let your frustrations be known.

“Assistant?” You exclaimed, gesticulating frustratedly. “Out of all the cover options? That woman probably thinks I'm your mistress!”

“I didn't choose it,” Changmin said, raising his palms in surrender. Though, it was clear by his expression that he was at least amused by your reaction.

You rolled your eyes, then narrowed them and crossed your arms over your chest. “What if you were the assistant, hm? Why aren't I the rich lady with a handsome secretary I take on vacation with me?”

His grin was teasing as he leaned closer to you, your breath hitching for a split second. There was a brief moment where your senses were fully engulfed by the smell of his cologne and the way a lock of his hair curled over his forehead. “You think I'm handsome?”

As if the universe could feel the warmth rising to your cheeks, the elevator doors mercifully opened onto the seventh floor.

He leaned away, something self-satisfied playing on his mouth as he returned his hand to your back. “Okay,” he drawled, “say I'm your handsome assistant…”

“I'm never living that down, am I?” You groaned, already feeling the headache spike in your temples. Your eyes fluttered about the corridor you entered; it was just as beautiful as the lobby downstairs, but with a slightly moodier glow to the lights as if not to disturb any of the patrons on this floor should they wish for an escape from downstair's hustle and bustle.

“Imagine if Chanhee found out you'd said that.”

“Don't get me started on Chanhee.” Room 700 appeared in your sight, and you smacked your key card against the card reader before letting yourself into the room. As the lights flickered on, you asked Changmin from over your shoulder, “Have you heard from him recently, by the way?”

Chanhee was a mutual friend from your college days. While he was technically a closer friend to Changmin, you'd met Chanhee through Changmin after your partner project and grabbed dinner together every once in a while whenever Chanhee was in town.

You were already making a beeline to the bathroom when you heard the hotel room door close and lock behind Changmin. “Recently? Depends on your definition of ‘recently.’”

The sound of your sigh echoed as you absentmindedly fixed your hair in the reflection. Train hair wasn't as poor as airplane hair, that was for sure. “He misses you,” you said in a singsong tone.

“Is that right?” He chuckled. “I'll shoot him a text then.”

He appeared in the reflection behind you holding two black garment bags, one in each hand. He'd shed his suit jacket somewhere, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to expose his forearms. “These are ours for tonight,” he said to you, handing you the one with your name on it.

Ah, tonight. “Thanks,” you said, taking a peek inside to see what exactly was prepared for you. Your curiosity piqued at the sight of deep wine red fabric, but you didn't look any further for the time being.

“Are you ready for tonight?” He asked, stealing a glance at you as he brushed his hair back in the mirror.

At the proximity of tonight's events, you suddenly felt your heart rate climb. Before when this was only an assignment, the gravity of the situation hadn't fallen over you yet. But now that it was your current reality, it began to rush at you with the speed of an oncoming train.

You steeled your nerves. You were tapped to carry out this task for a reason. The only thing you had to do was be wary of Changmin's spending; he was doing the heavy lifting. Even if you were about to be in a room with a few dozen other dangerous people.

You swallowed, nodding. “Ready as I'll ever be.”

He pressed his lips together, his dimples appearing in his cheeks but not because of joy. There was a step forward, then another. “Hey,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone, “I won't let anything bad happen to you or to anybody; that's what I'm here for.”

He draped his garment over his arm and leaned against the bathroom counter beside you. “If we both do our jobs right, we'll be fine. Do you know who our target is? Just so you're aware of who to look out for.”

You nodded, “Le Chiffre.” That was the name of the host of tonight's poker game. He was high on the MI6's most wanted list, and tonight was a critical effort to put a stop to his movements, as well as the credibility he had with his clients. You'd seen pictures of this man—the cold of his eyes and the pale scar that disabled one of his pupils—you were well aware of what he looked like.

“Good,” he murmured. “Then you stay far away from him, got it, sweetheart?”

“Got it.”

Though the gravity of the situation hung heavy in the room after that conversation, Changmin ordered the two of you room service before you needed to prepare for the poker game. You figured food in your stomach would keep you grounded and lessen the nerves trilling through you and making your extremities feel cold to the touch.

Dinner shared in the privacy of your hotel room with an old friend was pleasant. You both sat on the couch sectional next to each other, his arm laid casually over the back of where you sat, as you caught up and dined. There was something oddly warm in his eyes… you didn't know what it was that made him seem so clued into what you were saying, as if he was spellbound. You figured it must be the training he underwent; after all, if he couldn't just muscle his way to an answer, then seduction was also a powerful tool at his disposal.

You just wondered why it was seeping into his interaction with you. Perhaps it became second nature for him to be this way—to lean into every word you said, to brighten at the sound of your laugh, to mirror every smile. To make you feel like you were the only person in his world and that you were all that mattered.

By the time nine o'clock rolled around and you were in the bathroom preparing for the game, your nerves had calmed considerably.

The dress that MI6 provided you was a deep wine evening gown that hugged your upper body and cascaded down the length of your legs before it hung just above your feet. The satin was gathered and left to create a cowl at the neckline, and somebody had thought it was a fabulous idea to leave a high slit in one side all the way up to mid-thigh height. (One wrong move and you were screwed.)

It was as if a river of wine physically wrapped around you as a garment for the night.

Though you appreciated the beauty of it, it only served to make you realize that perhaps controlling Changmin's spending wasn't your only job tonight; your other purpose was to distract everyone else. You weren't sure how you felt about that.

A knock sounded at the bathroom door just as you were fitting on a pair of matching ruby earrings. “Yn?”

“Just a second,” you said. You pushed the earring backing into place and hustled over to open the door. “I'm just finishing… hey.”

Changmin had changed into an all-black suit, a classic piece of uniform that was tailored perfectly to his proportions. His eyes were hooded and dark as he drank you in like a glass of Pinot Noir.

A low whistle drifted out from his lips. “If I'm being honest, you might be a liability in this dress.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you said, turning back to return to the bathroom counter.

Changmin trailed after you, almost dumbfounded, like he'd forgotten why he'd knocked on the door in the first place.

You tried to suppress your smile as you handed him his comb. “See something you like?”

His eyes met yours in the mirror, tongue swiping over his bottom lip. “I do.”

Your expression shuttered in the mirror having not expected that reply at all.

Changmin cleared his throat, stepping to your side to fix his hair with practiced grace. In no time, his appearance was complete, and he was heading out of the bathroom, his cologne lingering by you.

When you were satisfied, you turned off the bathroom light on your way out to meet Changmin in the main room. He was by the safe, fitting a fresh magazine into a silver pistol with skilled hands. He felt your gaze on the weapon and passed you a glance. “We can't carry weapons into the room,” he told you, “but it's a good idea to have one ready here.”

You bobbed your head in agreement, though you felt your shoulders tighten.

He locked up the safe before making his way toward you. “Do you know how to use one of these?” He asked.

You shook your head. “It was never in my job description,” you said quietly. “I hope you don't have to use it.”

There was a graveness to his gaze now. “I hope I don't have to either.” Because both of you knew, if it came down to it, he wouldn't hesitate.

The room where it happened was deep in the bowels of the hotel, somewhere below the casino floor and above the core of the earth. To get in, one was required an exclusive invitation, which was the item Changmin had received in the small parcel from earlier in the afternoon.

You and Changmin arrived on the scene arm in arm, your posture straight in an effort to come off as nonchalant. As you descended the velvet-lined stairs into the basement room, you were confronted by a pair of broad-shouldered bodyguards with body scanners in their hands. After retrieving Changmin's invitation, you were both scanned separately for security, before being granted entry.

The playing room was on the smaller side with a fully equipped bar on the furthest wall of the room. The centerpiece was an oval table, barred off with railings for spectators to lean on while the game was played. There were a sprinkling of others here, both players and their guests.

Your initial scan of the room, unsurprisingly, produced no familiar faces—but your arm tightened around Changmin's when you caught sight of the man of the hour. Le Chiffre stood on the opposite side of the room, nursing a coup glass of liquor as he spoke in low tones with another man. From this angle, you could see the cut of his one glassy eye and the angry scar that marred his face.

“Our four o'clock,” you muttered between your teeth to your counterpart.

Changmin glanced over out of his peripheral vision, nodding subtly. “How about a drink, sweetheart?” He asked you, his voice slightly louder than your own.

You gave a small smile, and he began to lead you over to the bar.

As the two of you moved, you couldn't shake the feeling of eyes trailing after you, something akin to spidersilk clinging to your limbs that you could never quite brush off. It was no secret that you were one of the few women in the room.

When you reached the bar, Changmin flagged the bartender down. “A vodka martini, please—shaken, not stirred—and a mint julep for the lady.”

“Right away, sir.”

You looked over at Changmin with an impressed purse of your lips. “You remembered,” you mused.

The corner of his lip tilted upward. “How could I forget?”

With your drinks served to you, you gently sipped on your mint julep. It wouldn't do you well to get drunk tonight; you just needed a little liquid courage.

From your side, Changmin stared out into the crowd, likely assessing his opponents in the room. He made a small noise of consideration that made you prompt him. He answered lowly, “You see the man to our nine o'clock?—”

You followed his instructions and casted a single glance that way. At the other end of the bar stood a man in a gray suit, nursing a rum and coke in his hands as he assessed the room for himself.

“—Lee Juyeon. CIA.”

Your eyebrows flicked upward. “Interesting. Are they after our man, too?”

“Good chance that they are,” he said and raised his glass to his lips. He swallowed the last of his drink and set the empty glass behind him, leaning the elbow closest to you against the bar behind him. “Know how to play poker?”

“I’m more of a Go Fish girl, actually.”

He sputtered a laugh, and you smiled into your glass. “You're kidding. Not even a little?”

“Go fish, Mr. Ji,” you said and gestured to him with your glass. “Do tell though, since your boss seems to have so much faith in you. What's the secret to winning poker?”

You hadn't even realized how close your faces were tilted toward each other until you registered the smell of his drink on his breath and the shine on his lips. For a plot second, you swore his eyes even dared a glance away from your own.

Neither of you backed away from the other and remained in the intimate gray space.

“The secret?” He parroted, cocking an eyebrow. He tugged at his bottom lip. “The secret is figuring out what everyone else's tells are. It's about bluffing and strategy. If you can figure out how to tell when a person is lying, then you're practically set.”

You hummed. “I see. So what's my tell?”

“Your tell?” His gaze on you was hot and heavy as his eyes devoured you slowly but surely for yet another instance tonight. You could no longer ignore the rapid hammering of your heart, its insistent palpitations threatening to expose you to the man you swore could already see right through you.

His lips pulled into a slow smile, the kind you couldn't decide if it really was a smile or a smirk. “That’s for me to know, and you to figure out.”

“You don't know then.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart.”

A hush fell over the room. You followed everyone's eyes up to the man who had summoned the room's attention. Le Chiffre stood atop the poker table's platform with a small laptop seated upon the table's edge.

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the game,” he greeted coolly. “We will begin this evening's festivities with an introduction to our security protocols. This device—” he gestured to the computer, “—is fully secured to store and activate all of the night's betting money. Each player will enter a six-character code, unique to them, that will grant them access to the winning sum—should they win.”

A small murmur of laughter amongst the crowd; you didn't find it funny.

“We will begin with Mrs. Takeuchi.”

One by one, each of the players present tonight came forward to input a six-charactered passcode of their choosing. When Changmin was summoned forward, you watched as his expression became a careful, unreadable slate. He strode up toward the poker table, eyes never leaving Le Chiffre and Le Chiffre's never leaving Changmin. You could feel the tension in the room tighten, and Changmin confidently input his desired password.

When he pressed ENTER, you swore you could feel the fifteen million dollars being locked into the pot. Fifteen million was a shit ton of cash. The amount you were not willing to go beyond was twenty million. As long as Changmin played safe and played well, it wouldn't be a problem.

Not before long, the players were all summoned to the table. You sent Changmin off with a reassuring squeeze of his shoulder, and followed behind him to find a space at the railing to watch.

Changmin settled in the chair directly across from Le Chiffre.

The dealer passed out two cards to every player, each of whom hoarded a stack of chips and rectangular plaques that valued up to fifteen million. As the dealer revealed the four cards before him—two jokers, a king, and an ace—the game was on.

You weren't even sure what you were looking for, but the sinking feeling in your gut would not fade the entire game. You held onto your mint julep until it was drained, eyes trained on the cards lying face down in Changmin's hands as he watched Le Chiffre across from him like a hawk.

He was looking for his tell, you realized.

The match was tense. You couldn't pull your gaze away, for fear of missing some minute detail, even if each move made was technically quite large. In the beginning, however, it felt as though everyone was playing it safer, for fear of getting out too early.

The night was young, and it would do none of them any good if they lucked out of a pot of at least one hundred million.

You watched Changmin, who watched Le Chiffre. You noted the way Le Chiffre would occasionally bring his left hand up to his scarred eye… was that his tell?

It was nearing one hour when it was only Changmin and Le Chiffre who had yet to fold. The dealer called for Changmin to make his move, and you looked over to your counterpart as the gears turned and twisted in his mind.

“I'm all in,” he decided, and shifted his entire pile into the center, mounting up to some amount close to twelve million.

You pressed the backs of your knuckles to your lips in anticipation of Le Chiffre's move. The man did not cower, but rather, called his bet. He moved his pile of fourteen million to the center. All in.

“Gentlemen,” the dealer gestured for their cards to be revealed.

They flipped their cards into view—you could feel the scandal rocket through the crowd.

“A pair of jacks. Monsieur Le Chiffre wins. This marks the halfway point of the match; we will return in one hour to resume, with the big blind set at two hundred thousand.”

Everyone around the table, both players and spectators, began to dissipate to find something to distract them for the hour-long break.

Changmin's posture was taut as a bowstring as Le Chiffre pulled his mouth into a sly smirk across from him. “Ah, Mr. Ji. You must have interpreted my tell wrong. Off your game tonight, don't you think?”

A muscle feathered in the agent's jaw. “I wouldn't be so quick to boast,” he drawled. “The game's not over yet.”

You didn't know what to say, but you knew one thing was for certain—no matter what, you and Changmin could not let Le Chiffre leave tonight with the jackpot. And as Changmin departed the table with a crease between his brows but his head held high, you knew what was on his mind, as well.

“Need a drink?” You asked, as he met you where you stood.

Changmin shook his head. “No, I'm alright,” he said, glancing about. He nudged the back of your shoulder with his fingers, guiding you toward the exit. “Let's get out of this room for a moment though.”

You weren't going to argue with that decision, and the two of you linked arms and made your departure.

When the cool air in the lobby swept over you and all the tension in your body left for a brief moment of paradise. It was so stifling down in that room; you were almost thankful to be wearing this dress.

You and Changmin lingered at the top of the railing that looked down into the lobby from the second flood, heads close together. “What now?” You asked him.

“I need more money.”

“I can give you five million, but that's my limit, Changmin,” you told him firmly.

His brows crossed together. “Five million isn't enough to go toe to toe with a guy who just ended round one with thirty—”

“That's not my fault; this is policy.” You knew the world hung in the balance, but while that was his job, this was yours. You sighed. “Maybe I can contact someone about approving more, but right now, five million is our only option. Do we not have a plan B?”

Changmin's lips pressed into a line. “Plan B is hoping he does something fucking illegal in front of my face, and praying that reinforcements come in fast enough to take him away.”

Now it was your turn for your brows to crease. “Why do we have to wait for him to do something illegal? Don't we know he's a criminal?”

“We're onto him, yes, but there has been no tangible proof that he's a corrupt banker,” Changmin admitted tersely. He absentmindedly rubbed his jaw with his palm. “If we could just—”

“Ji.”

Both you and Changmin straightened. Coming toward you from down the hall was Lee Juyeon, the CIA agent Changmin had pointed out to you earlier.

You didn't fail to notice the way Changmin blocked you from Juyeon's view with his body. “Lee,” Changmin greeted back.

Juyeon nodded to you in hello with a warm smile, and you lifted your hand to wave. He seemed decent enough.

Changmin’s eyes narrowed as he shifted so he stood next to you now, an obvious arm slung around your waist. “I didn't know the CIA was on this.”

“I didn't know the MI6 was on this,” Juyeon fired back. He let out a sigh that sounded about as stressed as you were. “I wanted to propose a deal with you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, well—” Juyeon cupped the back of his neck with one hand. “I'm not the most adept poker player,” he confessed. If you remembered correctly, he nearly lost half his money throughout round one—then again, Changmin lost all of his. According to Le Chiffre, it was because he had read his tell incorrectly; you must have interpreted the wrong one, too. “And I figured that I'm not going to be making enough right moves in the second round to even stand a chance against Le Chiffre. You've got the balls to go up against him, and I know you're down a few bucks, so I wanted to bow out of the round and stake you instead.”

Both you and Changmin glanced at one another in surprise.

Juyeon was backing out… and wanted to stake Changmin? Stake, meaning to invest or sponsor him; to give Changmin funds.

Changmin's eyes narrowed. “And what would I do for you in return?”

“You would give the CIA Le Chiffre.”

What other choice did you and Changmin have? Five million was not enough to make a winning comeback; at least being sponsored would give Changmin enough cushion to make some more mistakes. The allyship between your governments was enough to make the CIA taking Le Chiffre in the end seem like a victory.

Changmin exhaled and stuck out his hand. “Deal.”

The second round was no less tense than the first. Changmin entered with more determination and fury than before, and Le Chiffre was no short of amusement and arrogance.

After Juyeon made his official departure from the game, he came to stand by you to spectate and offer insights wherever he could. The game chugged on by for another half hour with bets being placed, drinks being sipped, and money being exchanged.

You watched Changmin reach for his glass again, only to pause. There was a moment where you didn't breathe, and you watched his hand retract up toward his shirt collar to loosen it.

“Something wrong, Mr. Ji?” Le Chiffre asked.

You squinted at him, disliking the sinking feeling that had returned to your gut.

“Break,” Changmin suddenly called out, as he stumbled out of his seat and pushed out of the room in a hurry.

Eyes widened, you bolted after him, leaving Juyeon to wonder what had happened to Changmin.

You called out to your partner as he stumbled into the elevator, and you crashed in after him. “Oh my—fuck. What the fuck happened?” You asked as Changmin toppled over into you, sweat dripping down his face and his skin growing more and more flushed.

You jammed the button for your floor in a hurry as you attempted to hold him upright. “God, you're heavy, man—”

“Poison,” he choked out, practically ripping his shirt collar open, as if it was constricting his breathing. He gasped for air and clung onto you like a lifeboat.

Panic seized you by the heart and squeezed hard. “Oh my god. Okay—uhm, okay. What do we do? Changmin, what do we do?”

The elevator arrived on the seventh floor, and you half dragged Changmin toward your room. “The—the antid—antidote—”

“The antidote! We have an antidote?” You didn't have time to question him as you retrieved your room card from within your dress and barged into the hotel suite.

You deposited Changmin onto the floor as quickly and carefully as you could, hands shaking as you helped to take his shirt off so he could breathe.

“Safe,” he gasped to you.

“The safe? Fuck, what's the code?” You asked, clambering to your feet and racing over to the black box in the wall.

You heard him choke out the four digits, and the safe swung open without ceremony. You rifled around the contents and retrieved an aluminum foil packet with a slim syringe inside. “Found it!” You cried and practically slid across the floor to get back to him.

You ripped the packet open as Changmin's breathing continued to shallow, his skin paling, and his body growing weaker. His left palm had landed somewhere on his thigh—inject here.

“Shit,” you swore, grimacing to yourself before stabbing the syringe into his leg.

As soon as the liquid was gone, all you could do was pray.

But the storm clouds were beginning to clear, and color slowly returned to Changmin's face. You sank back onto your heels, relief and adrenaline coursing through you.

“Fucking hell, that was a close—”

White hot pain flashed through you as something—someone—grabbed you by your hair and yanked. Your scream pierced through the silence, and it was nearly enough to wake the dead.

They were dragging you backward toward the door, and you reached up to claw at their hands, your skull feeling as if it was being pulled into a million directions while being set ablaze, all at once.

“Let—go!” You screeched, thrashing around. You couldn't see your captor, but they suddenly released their grip on you.

Relief was short-lived.

Your head whipped to the side as a shoe met your cheek. Stars danced in your vision, and you cried out in pain—and then you begged. You were certain Changmin was still recovering, hardly in a state to save you, and desperation began to claw itself into your heart.

Your body was hoisted up beneath your armpits and you squirmed, fighting for your life.

For a second, you were sure you heard Changmin call out your name.

You threw your elbow back into your attacker's face, then tried the back of your head—the sound of pain and bones cracking echoing in your eardrum.

“You bitch!” They roared, loosening their grip to feel their broken nose.

You were a mess as you landed on the ground. A gleam of silver caught your eye. The gun.

Adrenaline seized you and you made a mad dash for the table where the gun was stowed beneath.

Your opponent caught your ankle and dragged you back down to earth. There was no time to mourn over bruised knees and limbs, and you kicked your heels out behind you in a blind fury, desperate to get away.

“Yn—”

“Please,” you screamed, begged. Whoever that was—you just wanted this to end. Fear coursed through you as your body began moving backwards and was dragged back to the door.

You dug your fingers against the polished ground, unsuccessfully gaining purchase. You clutched at a chair leg and dragged it along with you, and felt the hand around your ankle tighten—

With all your strength, you took the chair and heaved it back toward your captor. He let out a garbled swear, only agitated by your continued resistance. The hand around your ankle disappeared and you took it as an opportunity to get away.

“Not so fast.”

Your body hit the ground, the back of your head making purchase against stone. This time, you saw your assailant—he was one of the guards from earlier, likely working under Le Chiffre's orders. Blood dribbled down his lower face, courtesy of your retaliation.

“I should just kill you here and now,” he growled and enclosed his meaty hands around your neck. “Won't make a difference.”

You struggled against him, but to no avail. Your windpipe was being crushed and your vision blurred.

You thrashed and scratched and kicked—this was the end. Oh god, was this the end?—

A shot rang out.

Air slowly began seeping into your airway and you hacked a cough around the hands that had fallen away from your throat.

The dead body above you was heavy and sticky, and the smell of iron permeated your nose like a nightmare. You didn't even realize your cheeks were damp until you blinked and tears filled your eyes.

You nearly died just then.

With a suppressed sob, you shoved the dead body off you with all of your remaining strength.

There, by the table, was Changmin and the smoking gun in his hand. He still looked only half conscious, but he'd managed to get himself to sit up with pure willpower, enough to reach the gun stashed beneath the table, and to aim and fire a shot.

The room was quiet for a few moments, other than the persistent ringing in your ears.

Then you let yourself cry—it shook through your body and shoulders in violent sobs.

Changmin's chest clenched painfully at the sound, and the gun clattered out of his hand so he could crawl his way over to you. His hair, his face, his clothes were all dampened in sweat and the empty syringe laid abandoned on the floor. He made it over to where you were, the red of your dress mixed with the blood of a dead man, and held your body close to his.

“I'm sorry,” he muttered against your hair, lips pressed against your crown. “You’re okay; we're okay now,” he promised.

With his strength slowly returning to him, Changmin sat himself upright and let your body lean against him. You grappled onto him so tightly, as if he might slip out of your grasp.

It was almost thirty minutes later that you and Changmin returned to the poker game. With some gentle coaxing, he got you into the shower to wash the blood away, but you couldn't get the icky feeling clinging to you. He'd been gentle, though, letting you sit beneath the stream in your dress as he got onto the shower floor with you to run the water and soap through your hair.

In his hold, he rocked you gently through the tremors. “No one's gonna hurt you anymore, sweetheart,” he rasped. Never again, not if he could help it.

You'd never seen him like that—all the tenderness in his gaze out in the open.

And you'd only seen it when you glanced up at him once; the rest of the time, you tucked your chin to your knees, staring at a tile.

Unnerved but still alive, you entered the room with another clean dress, and Changmin with another clean set of clothes. You returned to your place beside Juyeon, and Changmin went back to the table to face Le Chiffre.

Le Chiffre, however, looked as if he'd seen a ghost. His eyes had widened just a millimeter, but it was enough.

Changmin dragged up the sleeves of his dress shirt, a predatorial-like gleam in his eyes. You almost killed me. Even worse, you dared to lay a dirty hand on her. “Sorry about that,” he drawled, gaze lifting to meet Le Chiffre's, “seemed that last hand nearly killed me.”

His opponent swallowed.

The game resumed.

With the final phase in play, the dealer announced that there could be no more buy-ins. Juyeon had fetched you a drink, which you were most grateful for, and Changmin avoided all beverages for the remainder of the game.

“Everything alright?” Juyeon asked you quietly as you chugged your drink.

“Perfectly.” You handed the drink off to a waiter nearby and smiled tightly. “We were just strategizing on how to murder this game.” You hoped he didn't hear the tremor in your voice.

As the final round approached, each of the four finalists that were left alive were asked to make their bets. Each player slowly, but surely, slid all of their remaining chips into the center.

Everyone was all in.

“Reveal your cards, if you please.”

One by one, the cards in each player's hand was turned. The room held its collective breath as Le Chiffre revealed an ace and a six—a fuller house, with three aces and two sixes.

All that was left were Changmin's.

With little more than an arched brow, he slid his cards apart: a five and seven, both of which were spades. When joined together with the rest, they made—

“A straight flush,” announced the dealer. “Monsieur Ji wins the game.”

Cheers and applause rang out throughout the room as the game finally came to a close. Relief soared through you, and you shook hands with Juyeon at Changmin's success. Perhaps twenty million had been spent, but it all meant that you had won back that money in full.

From your standpoint, you couldn't see Le Chiffre's reaction, but he didn't look pleased. He stormed out of the room only moments later.

Changmin was swift to join the two of you, his hand coming to lie on your shoulder. “We should go after him,” he said.

Juyeon nodded, expression sobering. “You're right.”

“I'm going with you,” you told him. Already anticipating his refusal, you shut him down with a look. Though you might have been shaken from the night's near-death experience, it only seemed to steel over your resolve to catch this bastard. “I'm safer with you; don't try to argue with me.”

He knew you were right—you saw the reluctant agreement in his eyes. He grunted, “Okay, but you're staying behind me the entire time and when I say run, you better run.”

You patted his chest and followed after Juyeon. “Of course.”

The three of you raced after Le Chiffre in the direction he disappeared. He'd gone up to the second floor via the grand staircase in the lobby, but neither you nor the other boys knew which direction he went from there. The second floor was damn near close to a labyrinth.

“We split up,” Changmin declared. “Me and Yn go one way and Juyeon takes the other.”

“Wait, Juyeon goes alone?” You butted in. “Le Chiffre is dangerous and desperate; that combination isn't good for anybody.”

“None of us have any weapons either,” Juyeon pointed out.

Changmin gestured to you. From beneath the skirt of your new dress, you withdrew the pistol from earlier out into the light. After what happened in your suite, the both of you thought it best to let security measures be damned and holster a gun to your inner thigh. And now, it was proving to be the right decision.

Juyeon deadpanned, amending, “I don't have a weapon.”

“Then you should go get one,” Changmin said smartly. You rolled your eyes at him.

“I—shit.” Juyeon huffed in frustration. “Goddamn it. You better hold your promise, Ji.”

“My word is gold,” Changmin swore as you passed him the pistol. “We'll find Le Chiffre; you call for backup.”

With that matter settled, you grabbed Changmin's hand and set off in one direction.

His fingers tightened around you as you stuck close behind him. The corridor was hauntingly quiet with not a soul around. You and Changmin trudged onward and kept your eyes and ears open for anybody hiding behind a corner or waiting to enact revenge on your poker victory tonight.

The hair on your arms and the back of your neck stood erect, heart thundering loudly in your ears.

So loud, that you almost missed it.

You caught Changmin's eyes. Did you hear that?

There it was—it sounded like voices coming from a room further down the hall.

“—please, just a few more weeks, and I can get you your money back!”

A muffled response in return.

“NO! I swear, I'll do better! I have another i—”

You never heard the end of Le Chiffre's offer. There was only the sound of a metallic swish, followed by a dull weight hitting the ground. A body.

Your breath hitched as you and Changmin looked around wildly for a swift exit or cover. There was an emergency stairwell just a few doors down.

Changmin grabbed you and booked it.

Your breath caught in your throat as he pressed you against the open doorway, eyes flickering somewhere behind you to watch the door the voices had come from.

“Do you trust me?” He asked, eyes furiously searching your own.

You didn't have to think about it. “Yes.”

Just as a door opened in the hallway, Changmin cupped your jaw with his hand, braced himself against the doorway with the other, and kissed you.

Your eyes fluttered closed upon immediate impact and you felt your heart leap into your throat. His lips moved gently against your own, as if afraid of breaking you, and his hand moved down from your jaw to wrap around your waist to pull you flush against him.

One moment you were melting into his embrace, and the next, he was shoving you behind the other side of the doorway for cover.

A war cry rang out—not Changmin, you realized—as a body blurred past you and was thrown into the stairwell's metal railing. Your soul nearly left your body, head turning in time to throw yourself out of the way of the incoming bodies.

Changmin brawled and grappled on the floor with a second man, a silver machete glistening in the dim light, only a few centimeters from his throat. The first man was slowly beginning to stand up, and your eyes tracked where Changmin's gun had skidded to the floor.

You swiped the gun up just as Changmin wrestled his opponent off him.

With adrenaline powering through you, you smashed the butt of the gun against the back of the man's skull. He crumpled to the cement—unconscious.

“Here,” you breathed, helping Changmin to his feet and shoving the gun into his hand.

He shook his dizziness away, eyes widened on something behind you. “YN, DUCK!”

You swore, and dropped to the ground, narrowly missing the arc of the first man's machete attempting to remove the head from your shoulders.

You dove down the first set of stairs to get out of the way of the fight, your knees and hands scraping against the cement and bruising.

The man with the machete attacked Changmin with reckless abandon, swinging his blade and striking the railing to make sparks fly. Changmin had no opening to use his firearm and—oh shit. They were coming this way.

“Yn, you better be fucking running.”

He didn't need to tell you twice. You tumbled down more stairs, ditching your heels as you went. You would be useless in this fight, so your best action would be to get the fuck out of the way.

Changmin's breath flew out of his chest as he hit the wall hard, then stuck his hands out in time to stop the assassin from impaling his head on the sword. Changmin drove his knee into his stomach, then threw him across the stairs to the opposite landing.

The fight clambered on down the spiral stairwell, metal clashing against metal, and bone and flesh grinding against stone. Changmin gritted his teeth as he fumbled backwards down the stairs, hitting the opposing wall with even more momentum.

He ducked—and missed another swing; and another; and another.

There was a kick to his gut, and his body went flying. His assailant took a leaping start and charged. Changmin grabbed at his hands again, desperately attempting to wrestle the machete away.

The weapon went sailing; that was his opening.

With pure adrenaline, Changmin fisted the man's shirt and flung him over whatever railing was left. You cursed as his body hit the basement floor with a thump.

Changmin tackled him as he attempted to climb to his feet. With the violent thrashing, Changmin ended up beneath him, his arm wrapped tightly around his opponent's neck, and he squeezed.

The man's arm flopped about, desperately reaching for the gun that scattered onto the floor from all the ruckus. If he could just reach it—

You lunged for the gun, tripping as the man clawed at your ankle to throw you off. You shrieked, swinging the barrel at his hand to knock it away.

When you finally managed to scramble backward, you watched the light fade in the assassin's eyes.

As soon as the man slumped in death, Changmin loosened his grip and crawled out from beneath the body.

You clambered over to him and helped him to his feet, his joints and muscles screaming as he attempted to straighten. He groaned, white-knuckling the railing, “Fucking hell.”

“Are you okay? Holy shit, Changmin,” you said, wrapping your arms around him to hold him up. There had been too many close calls there.

You passed a glance over at the corpse lying on the floor about a meter away from you. A shudder rippled down your spine, and you felt Changmin's hand on your forearm, like he knew.

From up above, you heard the sound of the stairwell door opening. The two of you peered straight upwards as a familiar face peered over the landing.

“Le Chiffre's dead,” said Juyeon. In his hand was a pistol; it seemed he finally retrieved his firearm.

“No shit,” you and Changmin replied simultaneously, chests heaving up and down in laborious panting.

Juyeon blinked, squinting his eyes to take in your appearances. “What the fuck happened to you guys?”

“Careful,” you called up to him, “that guy isn't dead.”

Juyeon jolted and he considered the body at his feet with new awareness.

You threw one of Changmin's arms around you to begin the ascent back up. “Can you—fuck. Is that yours?” You swore for the thousandth time tonight as you peered over at the growing dark splotch of red seeping through Changmin's shirt.

He hung his head as strength rapidly bled out of him with his own life force, and you carefully laid Changmin down on the ground.

“Juyeon!” You called out. “Juyeon, help!”

You heard rapid footsteps in the distance, but it faded to background noise as you ripped open Changmin's shirt and came face to face with the vicious knife wound in his abdomen. “Oh my god,” you whispered. God, there was so much blood.

“Cover the wound, Yn,” Juyeon said to you as he leapt down the final steps. “Fuck, this looks bad.”

“He must not have begun to feel it until the adrenaline was over,” you reasoned in a desperate attempt to keep your head on straight. Per Juyeon's instructions, you pressed your palms over the wound, bile rising in your throat from all the blood. “Changmin—Changmin, come on. Stay with me.”

He murmured something you couldn't hear, and you leaned your ear down over his lips. “Come on, talk to me, love. Tell me something, anything.”

His voice came out, barely there. “I'm… I'm glad I got—I got to see you again.”

And he would see you again. That was a promise you made to yourself, and to him, as Juyeon called for his reinforcements and you clung onto Ji Changmin's life with your own.

When Changmin came to, it was bright enough to blind him. There was a fuckass beam of sunlight shining right into his eyes, and he blinked rapidly, wrinkling his face into a grimace. There was a violent throbbing in his abdominal area that ached when he attempted to roll over or sit up.

Was he dead?

“You're not dead.”

His body immediately relaxed into the sheets he was settled in. When his eyes grew accustomed to the god awful amount of light in the room, he was met by the sight of your face, silhouetted against the sun, and beautiful. “Are you sure? 'Cause I'm pretty sure you're an angel.”

Your palm came over to rest against his forehead, and his eyes fluttered shut. “You must still have that fever,” you teased.

When you both shared a laugh, he opened his eyes again.

It seemed he was in a hospital room—well, something akin to that. It looked more like a small bedroom was transformed into one, and he laid on the bed with a heart rate monitor hooked up to him on the side. You perched on the edge of his bed with a cardigan draped over your frame, and something soft in your eyes.

No, he was definitely in heaven. Maybe he didn't die, but he was in heaven.

Your expression sobered as your hand drifted down to caress the side of his face. “You lost a lot of blood,” you whispered. “I was really worried about you.”

Changmin brought his hand up to gently take your wrist and turn your palm inward, his lips meeting your hand in a butterfly kiss. “Hey, sweetheart. I'm alright now, see?” He intertwined your fingers, missing the feeling of how they felt interlocked in the hotel hallway.

The hotel hallway—the fight—Le Chiffre—the kiss. His lips seared at the memory, and he fought the urge to touch his lips at the phantom sensation.

“What happened?” He croaked out instead, gazing up at you. His heart tugged against its confines when he made out the shape of dark purple smudged against your cheekbone. It was the bruise forming from the guard who came after you, and it made Changmin ache to see.

Hurt, you'd been so hurt.

You shifted your body so you could tuck your feet onto the bed, too. “Juyeon came with reinforcements and we got you out of there as soon as possible. One of Le Chiffre's clients killed him—the guys you fought with in the stairwell. Apparently he'd used their money to buy into the game, and because he wasn't able to win, they killed him.”

Changmin stared up at the eggshell-colored ceiling. He supposed that would have been the tangible evidence needed to convict Le Chiffre, but his client was faster at acting as judge, jury, and executioner.

“M's on her way to meet with you,” you continued, your thumb gently tracing dizzying circles onto the back of his hand.

“To be expected,” he chuckled. He glanced back up at you. “How are you? Were you hurt at all?”

You shook your head. “No, nothing to your extent. There were a few scratches and bruises, but nothing time won't heal.”

“And everything else?” Your mental state, especially after all you went through, could not have been in a terrific place. If he could have prevented you from experiencing any of what happened, he would do it in a heartbeat.

The pure fear that speared through his chest when he thought you were about to die…

He had long since figured out that what he felt for you was not simply platonic. It was more—he yearned for more. Seeing you again after so long just made it worse.

You made a noncommittal noise. “I'll… I'll be alright.”

For a moment, the room filled with only silence and the white noise from the heart rate monitor. You suddenly perked up at something, and turned to reach over to grab an item from the side table. Changmin recognized the small laptop device from the poker game now seated on your lap.

“The money pit from the game was stored in escrow in a Swiss bank. A representative from the bank delivered this to us,” you explained, showing him the screen. It left room for a passcode to be filled in. “To the victor go the spoils, love.”

The nickname made him shudder and he forced himself into an upright position.

“Changmin—”

“I got it,” he countered and stubbornly gritted his teeth through the pain until he was seated against the headboard next to you. He clutched his injury, head knocked back against the wood. “Well? Wanna guess the password?”

You lifted your brows in amusement. “Do you know how many six letter combinations exist out there? For all I know, it was a random keyboard smash.”

He chuckled lowly, leaning his chin against your shoulder. “S.”

We're really doing this? You seemed to ask with the expression on your face. You humored him, though, pressing down on the S key.

“W.”

The letters that followed amounted to S-W-T-H-R-T. You were quiet for a second as you stared at the final combination; you didn't want to press the enter key just yet.

Changmin murmured against your shoulder. “I'm not one for corny messages, but that's a 'sweetheart’ if I've ever seen one.”

You were still quiet as you pressed enter and unlocked the winner's pot. There was no special celebration, no balloons or confetti—just a solid number with too many zeroes for your little heart to handle. Perhaps, in the end, there really was no amount of money in the world that could buy your company. Not if you freely gave it, at least.

Changmin felt his chest lurch. “Yn, sweetheart, say something.” He leaned off your shoulder so you could turn your body to face him, the laptop returning to its place on the side table.

“What should I say?” You asked, your fingers playing with his own in your two hands.

“I'm sorry if the kiss was too much.”

You faltered for a second. “It, uhm, it wasn't too much. I actually thought that it was nice.”

“You did?” He hated the way hope made him feel, how it made his heart sprout wings—maybe he was dead.

A small smile crawled onto your lips and you dug your teeth into your bottom lip. “Maybe I did.” You raised a hand to the side of your face, an embarrassed groan falling out of your mouth. “God, I feel like a teenager with a crush again.”

“Giddy?”

“Pathetic,” you teased. You leaned your head against the headboard again as you looked over at him with the most beautiful gleam in your eyes he had ever seen.

He never understood the romanticizing of someone's eyes—what else had he ever discerned but fear or boredom? But he could hear your laugh just by seeing your smile reach your eyes, and he could feel the warmth spreading in his chest and making electricity zip down his spine from the tenderness in your irises.

He swallowed hard. “If you feel pathetic, then I am literally chopped liver,” he said. A surge of courage, the kind that was a trademark of his reputation, propelled his next words: “I'd like to kiss you again.”

Your eyes darted to his lips and he clung onto that detail as if he were hanging by a thread. “Because you saved the world, Agent 007, you can kiss the girl,” you mused.

You leaned over him slightly and cupped the back of his head, mouth meeting his own in a familiar dance. Even with his injury, he pushed back to meet you, and ignored the throbbing in his stomach, so he could haul you closer, over, around him. Anything to get you pressed up against him.

Real—you were real, and you were alive, and so was he.

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed! omg that permanent taglist looks SCARY 😭😭😭

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @vernonburger @maessseongs @ericlvr @mars101 @moonyswolf @your-mirae @richasdiary @deobi0412 @sunramzi @honeyrecommends @synthwxve @dearly-somber @empire-x @kflixnet

[druizard]

Gale's Gift

Gale & F!Reader

Softly inspired by @daisyofwaterdeep 's post here!

Rating: EXPLICIT! N$FW MDNI!!!

Word Count: 1602

Summary: Gale creates a special new toy for his wife (you) to use one lonely nights while he's stuck at work.

Also posted on AO3!

“Ah!  There you are, my love!” Gale is pleased to see you return home for the day.  With an eager twinkle in his eyes, he takes you by the waist and pulls you flush against him, tilting your chin up with those slender but strong, experienced fingers, to kiss you so deeply.  “I have a surprise for you!”  

“Oh?” You wonder what your husband has been up to on his day off that has him so excited.  

He takes your hand and leads you to his study where he tells you to “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

Without (much) hesitation, you do as he says, closing your eyes and holding your hands out with your palms up, ready for whatever brilliant or terrifying surprise he has for you. 

Not a moment later, you feel him place a long object in your hand and he tells you to open your eyes.  In your hands is indeed a sex toy, shaped in the exaggerated image of a man's genitals.  “Darling,” you giggle, blushing as you look up at him, “another dildo?”

“Oh, but this isn't just any old dildo, my love!” He places a finger on the toy, his eyes and fingertips glowing bright fuchsia for a second before the toy begins vibrating in your hands.

“What the hells!?” You exclaim, surprised by the sudden movement.  Gale snatches it before it hits the ground and laughs.

“I know how much you loved our little experiment the other day with thunder magic,” he starts to explain, the vibrating toy in his hand.  He steps in front of you, kissing your forehead, your nose then your lips, and you feel a gentle, low vibration on your bicep.  “I thought to myself, ‘what would happen if I enchanted a small object with a thunder spell?’”  Gale traces the toy along your shoulder, the buzzing radiates through your chest and relaxes your muscles as he brings it between your breasts.  “Of course, I needed to calculate exactly how concentrated the spell has to be in order to keep you safe while I use it to…”  

The toy in his hand slowly makes its way down your stomach and to your waistline.  With his free hand, he undoes your pants and pushes them down, just enough so he can reach inside with the toy, slipping it between your soaking wet folds and pressing it against your swollen clit.  You gasp, your own hands coming up to grip his shirt sleeves lest you collapse. 

“That's it…” he whispers, wrapping his arm around you as you lose balance.  He only keeps you there long enough to give you a taste before removing the incredible new invention from your parts, a devious smile across his face.  “Wonderful to know it works!” He chuckles at the disappointment in your eyes.  “I thought this might come in handy on your days off when I'm not around.  A little gift of pleasure from your husband who adores you.  My little way of being here for you, even when I can't be.”

“I… I love it,” you whimper, your hips still shaking from the thunderous pleasure the toy had briefly provided.  “Are you going to finish what you started, wizard?”

“Hmm?” Hums Gale, “Oh, no my love,” he hands you the toy and kisses your cheek, “That is your job!  I want to see exactly how you intend to use my little gift… show me exactly how you'll pleasure yourself when you're here alone, how good you'll make yourself feel while thinking of me.”

“You… want me to do this in front of you?  As if you aren't actually here, staring at me while I'm touching myself?”

“If that's.. alright,” a sudden glimmer of embarrassment in his eyes and Gale's cheek flush a deep red with blush.  “I'm sorry if this is too bold of me to ask.  Please, you need only say no if I've made you uncomfortable.”

You pull him down by his collar for another deep kiss and tell him, “Of course it's alright, Gale… just let me get comfortable.”  You take his hand and lead him to the bedroom, where you climb into bed alone.  Gale lingers in the doorway, leaning against its frame with his eyes adhered to you.  “Uhm… how does it work?  If you are not here?”

“Oh!  Right…” He chuckles, “just touch the base where I did before to activate the spell again.  No incantations necessary!  I made it so that it would respond to your touch as well as my own.”

You press a finger against the very spot Gale had touched before and the toy springs to life again, buzzing and ready to be used for your pleasure.  You smile and bite your lip, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it to the ground.

“Gods, you're beautiful…” he sighs, as you undress.

“Hey!  How am I supposed to imagine myself alone if you don't keep quiet!”

“Sorry, sorry!!” He laughs, “I'll be quiet… close your eyes.”

You shake your head, rolling your eyes before closing them gently and moving the toy to your eager parts once more.  “Oh, fuck,” you moan, pressing it against your clit.  It was similar to the sensations Gale had shown you when he tried using thunder spells in the bedroom before, with only his hands as the tool, but now the control is in your own hands… and knowing he is right there watching you somehow makes it even more arousing.

“Mmm, perfect,” Gale groans, somehow sounding much closer than he was when you started.  “Keep going…”  

“Gale…”

“Y/N…” he pants, his voice becoming more desperate and ragged.  Your curiosity gets the better of you, not able to put yourself in any mindset where he wasn't there anymore, and you open your eyes.  “Naughty girl… I said ‘close your eyes’.”

Now standing at the foot of the bed in front of you, Gale makes it impossible not to recognize he is still there, watching you with hungry eyes, one hand holding his tunic up at his chest, the other rapidly stroking his cock.  

“Oh, Gale…” you moan, the sight before you only pushes you closer to the edge as you press the buzzing toy harder against your throbbing bud.

“I'm sorry, my love, I… couldn't help myself.  You're so irresistibly beautiful… so good for me…”  His eyes drift from yours, down to your breasts and finally your dripping cunt.  The sight makes his cock leak as he squeezes it a little tighter, wishing it was your sex around him instead of his own hand.  “Gods, I want you…”

“I thought you said you wanted to watch.”

“I think I may have changed my mind… may have overestimated my ability to resist your perfect body.” Gale kneels onto the mattress, walking towards you on his knees, still rubbing himself eagerly.  “Please, Y/N, may I?”  His cock is already lined up with your opening when he asks your permission, waiting only for your okay before sinking into you, groaning as his head reaches your cervix.  “F-fuck, you're so damn tight… so wet…”

You pull the toy away from your mound as he begins to fuck you, the sensations almost too much to bare with him filling you and hitting every point of pleasure within you.  Gale stops you, taking your wrist in his hand before you can discard the toy.  “No, keep it there… I want to see you come undone… with both my cock inside you and your new toy against your clit… I need to see you unravel, I ache to feel you climax around my cock, my love… please…”

How can you refuse such a sweet plea?  It takes all of your willpower to keep the buzzing object pressed against you as your husband drives himself into you over and over again.  Both of your heads reeling, never breaking eye contact as your world becomes nothing besides you and Gale. 

You and Gale.  You and your husband.  Together as one, together alone.  The love of your life who fills you so perfectly.  You could cry at how insane and incredible it feels to have him stretch you as your new toy overstimulates your pulsing clit, threatening to send you over the edge at any moment.

“Gale, I'm cl-close,” you whimper, your free hand reaching for his.

“Perfect,” he pants, his movements becoming erratic as he takes your hand in his, “As am I… my love… Y/N… my perfect, good girl… I..I love you… please, finish for me… with me…fuck…”  Gale squeezes your hand, never letting go as you both reach climax together.  He pulls his cock from within you just in time, letting his seed shoot across your stomach and onto your breasts.  As much as he adores the sight, he magically tidies up after himself, for your sake and out of respect.

He then hastily takes the toy from you and discards it so he may collapse next to you and pull you into a loving embrace.  “Are you alright?” He asks, pushing your hair out of your face.  “That wasn't too much, was it?”

“No, Gale,” you say, still panting and high from release.  “That was perfect.”

“You are perfect,” he kisses you tenderly on the lips, softly moaning into them, “Can I assume you'll be putting your new gift to good use the next time I'm stuck at work too late?”

“Oh, without a doubt!” You laugh, snuggling up close to your beloved wizard.  “But I will always prefer your cock, fingers or tongue alone over anything else.”

[velvetcloxds]

MUNDANE MORNINGS | C.S.

pairing: charlie swan x fem!reader

word count: 0.8k

warnings: the cheese is fresh, besties

summary: just some early morning domesticity before charlie goes to work

“I packed you something for lunch,” you noted before taking a large sip from your coffee, placing the cup down just loud enough for the sound to hum about the quiet little room, melting away amongst the soft singing of the birds outside as you went back to buttering your muffin.

“You didn’t need to do that,” Charlie breathed from behind his newspaper, peaking around the corner when he heard you scoff at him, a teasing sound, one that declared to him that you knew him too well for his own good.

“I also didn’t need to make you breakfast,” you informed him, taking a slow bite from the piece of cheese you’d cut for your muffin before smiling teasingly at the man across from you, who was now very much interested in what you’d say next. “But heaven knows what you’d eat if I didn’t,” you shrugged and he scoffed in reply, knowing you were right, of course, but he’d not dare admit that out loud.

“I’ll have you know that I ate perfectly fine before you came along,” he argued, taking a bite of his toast and crunching away, watching your soft eyes take in the little action, hoping he was enjoying the new jam you’d brought for him at the farmer’s market over the weekend, knowing he did.

“Good?” you prompted, and he nodded too eagerly to stay on point, smiling in defeat when you giggled lightly. “I put some on your muffin for lunch too.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he concurred and he could hardly believe how natural the whole exchange felt, seeing you in his dress shirt, sitting cross-legged on his dining room chair getting all excited over making him lunch and buying him special things you knew he loved but wouldn’t fuss to get- it was as if you were perfectly in place, his place, his home- he couldn’t even remember what mornings were like without you and he was ever grateful that he might not have to experience them again in the near future.

“You’re welcome, bear,” you shrugged again, allowing yourself to get lost in thought as you sipped at the last bit of your coffee, not knowing that Charlie was appreciating the little moments you spent together in the mornings just as much as you were.

“Can I help clean up before I go?” he asked, forcing you to pay attention with an almost shy smile, folding his newspaper into a crooked square and standing up to get his jacket when you shook your head. “How about we cook together tonight?”

“You’ll be home early?”

“I’m going to try my hardest,” he immediately picked up on the excitement you were trying your very hardest to hide, jumping up from the table to bring his lunch over to him, not even thinking before helping him with the collar of his jacket. “You going to stay here for the day?”

“Would that be okay?”

“More than okay,” he shrugged and before he knew it you were busy again, fingers moving quickly to fix his tie, and then his badge and you were just about to slip a hand into his hair when he caught you. “If you’re done fussing, can you give your old man a kiss?”

“I’m not fussing,” you argued, rolling your eyes as you pecked his lips, trying to pull away but not standing a chance as his grip on your waist held you in place, a few more kisses being stolen before he breathed out lowly.

“You’re fussing,” he confirmed with a little wink before letting you go, taking the brown bag from your fingers before walking to the door, turning back to get a glimpse of the dazed little stare he was sure to see. “See you tonight.”

“See you tonight,” you mimicked, and Charlie lingered, hand on the door but making no move to try and leave, in a daze of his own as he daringly looked you over once again, having to convince himself to leave when a sight so perfect was right there waiting for him. “Go,” you giggled, kissing his bicep in the process of gently shoving him out the door, watching from the doorway as he walked slowly to his car, mumbling to himself.

You stood there in a dreamlike state, swaying from your heels to your toes, holding your breath as he drove away and with one last wave you released a content sigh.

twilight taglist: @mirclealignr @saintlike78 @cupids-crystals @a-lil-bit-nuts @scarlet-prey @chaoticgirl04

[allfortzu]

hold me tight (i'm still lost)

-- mina / tzuyu. 2.1k, smut / fluff // MEN DNI.

mina, tzuyu, and maybe something more.

mina slumps back on her chair when a knock sounds on her door for the nth time, and she drags a heavy palm over her face. 

she’s this close to completely losing her sanity, and wonders whether starting a gang was worth the barrage of incompetent lackeys that came with. 

she takes a deep breath. tries her best to suppress the urge to punch someone. 

“i thought i said not to bother me."

the door opens anyway. someone letting themselves in.

mina looks up, the blatant disregard of her wishes enough to make her fume. she's about to stand from her seat to maybe throw a hand or two, until – 

ah. 

tzuyu peeks her head in, lips jutting out like she’d been wronged. “taking your anger out on me?”

the effect is instantaneous, the way butterflies flutter in mina's tummy and the tension in her shoulder dissipates. she feels a giddy smile on her lips, growing like wildflowers. 

“i meant everyone else but you.”

tzuyu grins, pleased, and fully steps in to join her at her table. 

when she comes close, it smells of fresh linen and sweet perfume, and mina wishes she would come closer.

tzuyu sits on the edge of her desk, sleek tie hanging loosely from her collar and white shirt unbuttoned, but mina thinks she pulls the roguish look off just right. 

“now, i leave for half a day and come back to see everyone dead silent and tied up in chairs,” tzuyu chides. “were you chewing people out?”

the words barely reach mina’s ears. all she hears is happy music in the background and sparkles all around, and everything is so bright and great when tzuyu’s this close. 

but tzuyu sends her another pointed look, frowning, so mina huffs reluctantly and folds her arms into herself. “they deserved it.”

“unnie.” 

“they were being stupid! i send them to politely threaten a man, and they come back with the guy kidnapped!" mina scoffs. "i figured, if they want to kidnap someone so bad, maybe they should experience it first, is all.” 

“so you fake-kidnapped them?” 

“i don't want to talk about it. just thinking about it makes me mad." 

tzuyu chuckles and rolls her eyes. "you're so childish." 

"hey, i'm technically your boss here!" 

"yeah?" tzuyu raises a cocky brow, leaning down close. "is boss myoui gonna tie me up and make me cry, too?" 

there's a teasing lilt in her voice, lips tugged up in an infuriating smirk. she obviously knows the connotations when those words come out her mouth, but doesn't care. 

mina, though, is easily embarrassed. 

"i- you-...!" she stammers. "tzuyu!" 

she pushes the younger's face away when her own starts flushing red, the mere thought of it making her ears hot. 

tzuyu giggles all cutely, a sharp contrast to her sultry voice from before, and mina equally adores and abhored it.

her and tzuyu weren't anything official, per say.

maybe they fooled around sometimes. and helped each other release some pent up anger… often.

they were close, they knew each other, it was convenient. their line of work didn’t exactly open doors to a lot of actual relationships. 

but that was it – 

they were partners in crime before anything, so mina always felt some type of responsibility to restrain herself for the sake of professionalism, even though she did get a little carried away sometimes. 

tzuyu, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy riling mina up relentlessly all the time. 

"what are you thinking about, unnie?" she says, reaching over to run a hand through mina's hair, fingers scratching lightly. mina almost purrs, craning her head forwards for more. 

"nothing," she replies distractedly, eyes fluttering close.

tzuyu hums, tone teasing. "thinking about me?" 

"maybe." 

there's a moment of deafening silence then, nothing but their soft sounds of breathing and mina's sighs. 

"is it weird," tzuyu whispers. "that i really want to kiss you right now?" 

no, not really. they've done it before, haven't they? 

"no." mina says. 

what's so different about it this time? 

nothing. nothing's different.

tzuyu tilts mina's chin upwards. she hesitates, or maybe mina simply imagines it, but it doesn't matter, because she still leans down to press a chaste kiss against mina's lips. 

it's gentle; more gentle than all the other times they've done it. different from the heat-of-the-moment type kisses that they usually find themselves in. a kiss charged with something other than lust. 

mina wonders what.

but then it grows hungry, as it always does, even if neither of them mean it to, and mina pushes the thought aside. 

their teeth clash and tzuyu bites and nips on her plump lips; breathing hard but not willing to pull away – like she can't possibly get enough. 

it's instinctual, at this point. a need more than a want. 

tzuyu pulls mina up until she’s standing, and mina has to hold herself up with two arms astride tzuyu's hips, but at least she's now at the perfect height for kisses. 

she doesn't even have to ask for more, because tzuyu slips a hand under her blazer the first chance she gets, and squeezes needily at mina's ass. 

mina's stomach churns. “did you come in here just to do this?”

tzuyu muses, licking her lips. “i always come in here just to do this.”

"and here i thought you were genuinely concerned for the guys."

"i can be concerned and wanna fuck, no?" tzuyu pouts. 

it catches mina off guard, just a bit, and she tilts her head sideways to look at tzuyu properly. 

they only fucked when one of them had to release some stress, or something along those lines. 

neither of them seemed to be on any of those lines today. or maybe mina just couldn’t tell.

"are you okay?" mina asks, double checking, in case something really was wrong. she didn’t want tzuyu to think this was how they dealt with feelings. it was how mina dealt with it, but tzuyu didn’t necessarily have to think the same. 

"why wouldn’t i be?" tzuyu says. "unless you don't want to, then i don't want to either."

it was a first, to say the least, for them to be doing this for no other reason than to…enjoy each other's presence. 

it’s different. 

mina doesn’t know how else to respond, not in a way that opened up to feelings she didn't want to think about yet, so she tugs on tzuyu’s tie roughly and hopes tzuyu doesn’t notice the fluster behind her voice. “better fuck me good, then.”

tzuyu grins, adorable, but sly all the same. 

“anything you want, unnie.” 

and they're back to the way they were before, just like that.

mina yelps when tzuyu slips her arms under her, suddenly lifting her up from the ground and spinning their positions around. she places mina on her desk, undoing her tie as she leans forward to capture mina’s lips with hers again. mina has only a second to react, fumbling to place a palm over tzuyu’s hands. 

“leave it on,” she murmurs. “the tie is hot.” 

tzuyu stops in her tracks. “...kinky.” but listens and leaves it, much to mina’s satisfaction. 

she refocuses her attention back on mina, hands languidly trailing down mina’s dress shirt, unbuttoning as she moves back up. mina’s stomach flips when tzuyu brushes her fingers over slowly exposed skin, pushing both her blazer and shirt off her shoulders.  

tzuyu visibly swallows, eyes fixed on mina’s abs.

  it’s mina’s turn to tease this time. “cat got your tongue?” 

tzuyu pretends she doesn’t hear, but mina sees the red flush before she’s shut up with a kiss. tzuyu’s hands instantly find purchase on her stomach, splaying torturously slow over each dip and curve and gripping harshly. 

her kisses pepper downwards, from mina's jaw to the nape of her neck, down to her pulse point and collarbones, and mina squirms at the sensation of tzuyu's sucking. she locks her thighs around tzuyu, desperate to grind into something, fingers clutching the edge of the table as tzuyu leaves her mark.

"stay still, unnie," tzuyu mutters, holding her hips still. 

"i'm sensitive there…" mina mewls.

"i know," tzuyu replies coyly, and bites another bruise into mina's skin. mina keens, her cunt becoming uncomfortably wet and sticky from the oversensitivity. 

tzuyu's kisses follow her marks, making their way lower, over the valley of mina's chest and down her abs, until tzuyu is fully kneeling on the floor. she makes a point to drag mina's hips forward, just to regain mina's attention, and the sinfully blown out look in her eyes makes mina even wetter. 

"can i?" tzuyu asks, hands waiting patiently at the hem of mina's pants. 

mina doesn't dare open her mouth, in fear of something embarrassing spilling out, so she offers a shy nod. 

tzuyu wastes no time getting rid of mina's clothes, tossing them haphazardly to some corner of the room, and it's like she's in a dream, having mina spread out and naked for her over the desk; god, she wonders what she did in her past life to deserve this. 

"you're too hot, unnie."

tzuyu finds her place in between mina's legs again, lifting them over her shoulders for easier access. her hair is ticklish, and mina digs her heels into tzuyu's shoulder blades when kisses are placed on each of her inner thighs, then another on her slit, then again, and again, and again. she let's out a low moan, gushing as tzuyu runs a warm tongue up her folds, hot and wet.

"fuck," mina groans, head thrown back and fingers threading into tzuyu's hair to keep her close. tzuyu chuckles, mouth still on mina's cunt, and the vibrations send a shiver up mina's spine that pulls her back taut. 

mina looks down, vision blurry from the overwhelming pleasure but still wanting to watch. the pleasure is only intensified at the sight of tzuyu still in her suit, tie half done from when mina stopped her before and white shirt damp with mina's slick from how she kept grinding before.

mina hasn't nearly took tzuyu in enough, but tzuyu rests her hands over her waist, hold firm, and she has two seconds to guess why before tzuyu suddenly dips her tongue into her center, and her hips buck abruptly. 

"fuck, tzu!" 

she tugs on tzuyu's hair, thighs clamping hard and toes curling. 

tzuyu doesn't stop, redoubling her efforts and pushing her tongue deeper into mina's aching pussy, nose bumping deliciously against her clit. she knew exactly what made mina scream, humming every now and then just to feel mina quiver and clench around her tongue. she pulls back slightly to leave quick, kitten licks on mina's clit, focusing on the throbbing nub that always had mina whining. 

mina screws her eyes shut, trying her best to muffle her cries but to no avail. tzuyu's tongue flicks rapidly in all the right spots and it's all so mind numbing she doesn't even notice herself begging incoherently, a cacophony of pleases and tzuyus and broken moans filling the room. no one fucks her like this, no one touches her as perfectly, no one knows her like tzuyu.

she never wants to do this with anyone else but tzuyu.

the pleasure hits like a dam breaking, mina's mind going completely hazy and thighs trembling as she comes from tzuyu's mouth alone, moaning while tzuyu guides her through the edge, sucking around her folds and lapping lightly. 

she licks up mina's juices when mina finally stops shaking, and mina nearly comes a second time at the sight of tzuyu's messily smeared lips.

"tastes so good, unnie," tzuyu coos, capturing mina lips in another kiss. 

mina hums, tired from the orgasm but still kissing tzuyu back lazily. she tastes herself on tzuyu, sweet and sticky. 

"sleepy?" tzuyu whispers. 

"mhm," mina mumbles, wrapping an arm around tzuyu's neck to pull her into a hug. she rests her head on tzuyu's shoulder, all sore and sweaty, and ready to fall asleep just like that. "stay over at my place tonight…i'll pay you back…" 

tzuyu smiles. "it's okay, unnie."

mina's sure tzuyu says something more, but it doesn't go through to her. she’s already nodding off, tzuyu holding her upright, the calm after a storm.

all she remembers is foggy memories of tzuyu cleaning her up, tender and careful, and the press of a kiss on her forehead.

tzuyu carries her in her arms, and she’s lulled to sleep by her heartbeat. 

somehow, mina wakes up in her own bed the next morning, feeling a little empty by herself.

tzuyu’s kiss lingers.

no one more starved than a mitzunator (me) yes the pic is edited i dont want to talk abt it.. this is based on their ttt characters so the characterisation might feel different here! maybe i'll make it a series :D and someone save me from parentheses titles

thank you for reading! interactions appreciated <3

MEN DNI.

[nichenarratives]

Frozen Hearts

An Obscure Miniseries

In an attempt to raise Viktor for a job without freezing his tail off, Mordecai decides to drive in the thick winter snow, only to have an accident. Irritated his young triggerman continues to be reckless, Atlas orders him out of the speakeasy and into Viktor's apartment to recover, leading to some awkward conversations, situations and a whole lot of bonding.

1. Bad Idea

Winter takes Missouri in its icy grip early in 1922, suffocating foliage and freezing pipes with extreme prejudice. Even the evergreens seem to struggle, the ground frozen and barren around their roots refusing nourishment or water. Firs lining the streets begin to brown beneath the weight of snow and frost, only the most resilient trees retaining their green pine needles as February approaches, the felines of St Louis all desperately awaiting the thaw and arrival of spring buds.

Being temperate, the natives would say Missouri benefits from milder seasons than neighbouring states, yet Mordecai Heller would call it unfortunate to experience both. A native of New York, known for harsher winters and mild summers, most assume he would suffer more in heat. Unfortunately, equally affected by minor deviations from innate comfortable temperature thresholds, the shorthaired tom finds both to be unbearable in their own specific ways, especially the cold.

In the winter, he can't seem to wear enough layers to keep warm, not when conforming to his own strict requirements for propriety. There's only so many long sleeve vests and long johns one can squeeze beneath a suit before it starts to look awful, and Mordecai won't sacrifice appearance for comfort. His three piece, fleeced undergarments and a coat are all he will permit, but even with a scarf and hat, he feels the chill permeate his bones as soon as he steps outside.

Given the choice, the tuxedo would hibernate through the winter; woolen pajamas, thick blankets and copious cups of tea all take the edge off, as does attending a roaring fire in the hearth. Mordecai would wile the months away, reading through texts and classic literature until the snow and frosts were replaced with spring grasses.. if only he could.

A cup of tea and a blanket sound like heaven, he thinks as, with his collar turned up against the cold, Mordecai trudges through an inch of snow to the car. Unfortunately, the world at large doesn't share his hibernation sentiments and with the Lackadaisy Speakeasy blossoming in the years since prohibition, its liquor stores constantly need resupplying. Tes would be far more warming than that awful liquor…

An often hours-long round trip to trusted importers in a cold, metal death trap, Mordecai isn't fond of resupply runs. He'd much rather be burning storehouses to the ground, covering Viktor in raids or even the god-awful task of interrogations. Excessively long, silent road trips aren't exactly enjoyable, especially when his partner is crime has made it obvious he prefers the silence; and now, to top it off, he's going to be teeth-chatteringly cold while they're at it. 

Jamming the key into the car door, Mordecai unlocks the driver's side and slides behind the wheel, before taking a moment to blow into his gloves palms. He'd normally walk to Viktor's apartment a few blocks from the speakeasy and let Viktor walk back to get the car, but it's too cold; even inside the vehicle, he can't stop shivering, ears folded back to his head in an attempt to warm their icy tips and shoulders hunched against the frigid air.

When his breath seems to do very little to warm his hands, Mordecai gives up and guns the engine, hoping running the thing will create some warmth in the cabin. 

A terrible driver - having only ever been shown the basics in an emergency by Viktor, when he was too injured to drive and needed medical assistance - he grits his teeth when the gears grind as he forces the car into drive. A quick pause to check his mirrors, he steps a little too heavy on the gas and gasps when the car lurches forwards in his unskilled hands, squealing tires throwing up filthy snow as he careens out into the icy street.

It takes minutes to get to three blocks at one in the morning. Mordecai somehow manages to avoid hitting anything right up until he tries to stop. With no experience driving on ice or snow, he jams on the brakes and exudes a strangled murr of concern as the wheels lock and the car continues skating down the road at thirty miles an hour. When another attempt to brake fails and he rapidly overshoots his intended mark, the tom makes a final mistake; he swiftly turns the wheel.

The rear of the car swings wildly forwards, dispelling much of the forward momentum but carrying the vehicle onto its two passenger side wheels. For a brief moment, Mordecai is flying; clinging to the wheel as his feet are carried off of the pedals, eyes wide and mouth open in a silent scream while both gravity and basic physics seem to tip the car in slow motion, hat and pince nez in flight within the cabin.

Gravity wins; the Cadillac overbalances and with a distinct crunch, the wing mirror crushes against the asphalt, the entire right hand side of the car impacting on the road a millisecond after. Mordecai is haplessly thrown to the other side of the cab, wrenching his arms off the wheel and slamming his face, shoulder and right arm into the somehow still intact passenger window so hard, it shatters on impact.

The contraption skids across the cobbles, ten entire seconds of screeching metal and crushed glass piercing in an otherwise silent road until finally, it comes to a halt thirty feet away when it hits a light pole. Silence falls again; the light pole flickers and dies as if the sound were swallowed by the same darkness enveloping the scratched up, overturned car. Snow continues to flutter down around it, filling the skid tracks anew, coating the tragedy in white.

Mordecai daren't move; his head hurts, his face stings like a raw wound and he's seeing double, hazy vision swaying as if rocked by a non-existent breeze exacerbating his inherited myopia. Bracing a gloved palm on the broken glass beneath his face, the tom tries to lever himself up, but with his lower body wedged between the gear stick and dashboard and a leg bent against the cracked windscreen, his attempts are a futile waste of rapidly draining energy.

An overwhelming exhaustion turns Mordedai's sight black at the edges, dragging him away from consciousness. His arm dives way and he falls back to his burning shoulder with a weak whimper. Vaguely aware he can't feel his fingers and a weak attempt to move them, warm blood drips into an eye from an open wound on his forehead, turning his world an unnerving red just a moment before it fades to black.

~.~.~

The bobcat is attempting to fix a leaky faucet when he hears it; skidding tires, an ear-splitting screech of metal on tarmac, and a final crunch as two metallic objects collide outside. He pauses his work and looks towards the window, cracked just a smidgen for the luxury of fresh air despite the oppressive chill, contemplating going outside. 

With a palm splayed on the underside of the sink and his other clutching the wrench still in place on the leaking nut, it would be easy to go back to work like nothing happened. Having the window cracked might be the only reason Viktor heard it though, which means he may be the only bystander aware of an accident taking place. Normally, he wouldn't be so bothered; with the speed limitation on public vehicles - a limitation he'd effectively removed from the company car for illicit purposes - most people walked away from a crash with minor wounds, making bystander intervention pointless.

Unfortunately, he's also aware of the sub zero temperatures outside. Even as a bobcat, fully fleeced with a thick double coat for optimal heat management, Viktor can feel the cold seeping into his apartment through the window. If knocked unconscious or trapped within the vehicle, it wouldn't matter if the driver's injuries were minor; he could freeze to death in a quarter of an hour in this kind of weather.

Viktor closes his eye and sighing heavily, abandons the still leaking faucet, using the nearby armchair to rise to his feet with a grunt when his stiff knee complains. The cold is bad for his old joint, no matter how warm he seems to dress; his long johns, vest and woolen pajamas keep him adequately warm alongside his fur indoors, even with the window open.

He grabs a sweater off the sofa, then pulls on an overcoat and thick, leather boots, picking up a lantern along the way for good measure before he steps outside his first floor apartment and heads out into the icy night. The falling snow, expanse of white and empty streets momentarily stop him on the step, a litany of nostalgic memories of home assaulting his senses, but he shakes them off and treads carefully into the snow, lantern raised as he searches for the accident.

If no one is dying, he's going to be so pissed.

It takes a few minutes and a short walk to find it; a divot in the snow already filling up with fresh powder flecks, roughly the length of a car and extending beyond the range of his lantern. With a frown, Viktor steps into the divot and follows it back to an extinguished light pole, a Cadillac bent around the base almost exactly at the halfway mark. With the roof dented in the vehicle is almost comically banana shaped.

"Hello?" The Slovak calls into the darkness, holding out the lantern and turning up the gas, the yellowish hue making it hard to discern the car's actual colour. There's no reply, but he steps closer, walking around the back of the car for any sign of a hasty exit - a busted window, open door, blood on the frame - but finds nothing; if someone was inside the car when it crashed, they're still there. 

He treds through the snow towards the front of the car and sees a dark shadow crumpled against the passenger side of the vehicle, unmoving and not unresponsive. "Anyvone hear me?" Viktor tries again, but with no response, a bad feeling begins to swirl on his stomach. He almost doesn't want to step closer, but he does so, resting a palm on the upturned hood to shine his light on the crumpled figure. "Van't hel-?"

The bobcat's question dies in his throat when he's met not with a stranger, but the twisted, bleeding body of a familiar face; he assigned partner and coworker, Mordecai Heller. The snow around the broken passenger window is turning pink, while his contorted body is jammed between the gear stick and mahogany console, foot awkwardly braced against the windshield and arms in disarray around his head.

Viktor drops the lanturn to the snow, unaware of it toppling over, glass case protecting the flame within. Of all the things he'd expected to find - of the tragedies he could have borne witness to, attending this accident - the unconscious body of someone he cares about wasn't one of them. The feeling in his gut swiftly evolves part fear, conflicting emotions masked by a military-drilled compulsion to act quickly.

It takes a single strike for the compromised glass to shatter under his heavy boot. Glistening shards scatter, invisible in the snow except for the lantern's dancing reflections. Viktor pays it no mind and crouching down, reaches into the car to extract the smaller tom with as much care as he can, while still moving swiftly, well aware that stronger men have died of exposure after less time in blizzards back home.

Despite being manhandled in ways that would usually make him squirm, Mordecai remains limp and unresponsive as the bobcat pulls him from the wreckage. Glass clinks and falls from the tuxedo in shimmering, sparkling flakes, more still glistening in dark facial fur as Viktor draws him close to a broad chest and presses two fingers to his throat, holding his breath without meaning to.

Ba-bum... Ba-bum.

It's sluggish beneath chill skin, but there's a pulse. Viktor isn't sure if he's relieved or afraid, looking up at the empty street shrouded in white, not another soul to be seen. With no clear idea what to do beyond warming the tuxedo up and finding medical assistance, the bobcat shrugs off his coat to bundle Mordecai up, disconcerted that he doesn't complain or even flinch when obvious injuries are manipulated.

His best friend on the verge of death and swaddled like a newborn, Viktor draws the tom close to us chest and begins the three block walk back to lackadaisy. The nearest place he knows who have a phone to call a doctor, or a car he can use to drive out to Elsa, because he's not sure blankets and a warm fire will be enough on a freezing February morning.

[porkcracker]

could you write a small fic about the reader spiking tfa sentinel (or optimus if you don’t feel like writing for sentinel)? hints of marking,,, overstim,,, a collar on him,,, a leash in the reader’s servos,,,

Hello hello, Sentinel is not my favourite, so I tend to get a little mean with him unless specifically requested otherwise, but I think it fits the theme as well. I hope you enjoy this and that it is what you had in mind. Thanks for requesting.

Sentinel Prime x Cyb!GN!Reader

High and mighty he may act when out on the field or really interacting with anyone, the moment the two of you were alone his behaviour changed completely. It was unfortunate no one else got to experience Sentinel like this, his submission truly something beautiful. But alas, a loss for them, a win for you, you mused as you watched your partner's bare equipment. It had been easy to sneak off with your lover and once in your berth room get him all dolled up for you.

Tugging at the leash in your servo, his helm was pulled backwards, so his gaze was directed forwards. "Come on, Sentinel, chin up. Be proud of your position.", you teased him, before striding the last steps forward, wrapping the leash around your servo as you went to keep it tight. Climbing on the berth behind him, you leaned over his back until your intake was right next to his audial, a smirk on your faceplate as you remind him. "Only good bots get to overload, and I don't feel like letting someone who isn't proud of his position overload.".

Grinding your closed panel into his bare valve, you note with amusement and delight that already the dark blue folds were growing wet. "It's so cute how you blush and act all shy, but your valve is already begging me to fill it.", you tell him with a grin, before pressing a kiss to his cheek as you straighten out again, sitting back on your heels. "You're so quiet, turbofox got your glossa?", you grin as he tries to shake his helm, inly to find the collar holding it in place. Between gritted denta Sentinel pressed out his reply. "I'm just waiting for you to get on with it already. I'm a Prime, I got other things to do!" His short bound of back talk is quickly shut down as you push your thumb without preamble into his valve. The blue folds pulled open to reveal his pulsing golden node and his surprised, frantic cycling callipers.

Opening your own panel, your spike is quick to pressurize at the sight before you and once fully extended there is little hesitation as you push the full length of your spike in your lover's valve. His moan is music in your audials, and it only gets better as a pleading whimper leaves the Prime as you pull out again. On the next push in, your name leaves his derma, and it motivates you only further to build up a hard quick pace, each thrust in pushing the Prime's hips forward even with his helm still pulled back by his collar. It is when Sentinel's valve starts to clench irregular that a smirk takes over your pleasure twisted faceplate again and just as the Prime was about to overload you stop, your spike buried deep inside him, but unmoving.

"No- ah please N/A let me overload.", a breathless plead, reaches your audials, and you pat his aft as you start to move again. "There there Sentinel, I'll give you what you need in due time." And with these words you start thrusting again quickly, building the same pace again. And stopping right as he was about to overload again. And starts thrusting again, only to stop once more. It's only when Sentinel is so far gone that he can't even plead for it any more and the most cohesive word out of his intake is your name that you finally relent.

Building a punishing pace of quick and hard, thrusts, you bring him right to the edge and over it. And then keep going. His pleading for an overload, having turned into relief, quickly turns into another kind of desperation. Another overload quickly follows and not long after another, his valve making a wet noise with each thrust and his callipers lose with the repeated overloads, tears gathering in his optics. When you finally overload yourself and bury your spike deep inside as you do so, you lean over his back and bury your denta in his neck cables, leaving visible dents in his cables that he will complain about once he is no longer a strutless pile of well-fragged Prime.

[brainrams]

TSAMS Smut Dynamic Headcanons

Ruin would be such a bitchy brat but also the biggest masochist and I think that's so fun. Just- the most sarcastic person in bed, but like if given a shock collar I seriously think he'd act out until he fried all of his circuits if you let him. Praise kink like all of them, but also a slight degradation kink? You'd have to be particular about it though... He'll take full offense and safeword out if you bring up something touchy (which he should). On the right side of the degradation though, it stokes the flames of his little sadistic heart, and he loves using it as an excuse to "correct your manners." Yeah, huge sadomasochist. He loves dishing it out just as much as he loves taking it. Put his Jigsaw mind to work on pain games, he'll come up with the most elaborate, tantalisingly painful-pleasurable things to do together. Also big into roleplay, obviously.

Bloodmoon I headcanon as aroace, but not at all sex repulsed. It just has no significance to them one way or the other. "Just fuck if/who you want to, we don't care," is the general vibe.

Sun... is a virgin. Definitely. I feel like he mostly doesn't know what he likes with other people. With himself, though, he likes to take his time. He sets up the area so clean up will be easy. He has a whole list of steps he goes through, and takes masturbation in stages. Towel down, lube/toy(s) on a little tray, clothes folded neatly at the edge of the bed—getting everything set up gives his mind space to unspool from its usual snarl of worries, and having everything where/how he wants it really helps centre him. During, he makes these breathy, whiny little noises as he pinches his rays and teases his nethers. He's a habit of keeping quiet from the time he shared a room (practically—the crawl space had no door), and despite having a room of his own now, automatically stifles moans into pants, or just full-on shoves his face into the pillow while he desperately humps his hand.

Solar... God does he have a praise kink. He's not good at accepting praise point-blank, but get him on his knees for you and tell him how good he's doing, how good he feels, how much you love being there with him? Oh he is gone gone. Big service top energy, just loves being appreciated and reciprocated.

Lunar is like... the squirmiest bottom imaginable. He gets overwhelmed super easily. Makes all these cute little noises, communicates in mostly "nnngggghhh mooorrreee"s and "ha-ah, mhmm, don'stop,"s, gets really fussy. He likes to reciprocate, but it's gotta be before or after, because in the moment you're pleasuring him? Oh he's just in another world entirely. On cloud fifteen. Gone. Huge size kink—if you're bigger he will take advantage, but still has a general preference for people his own size. Melts like putty in the sun if you tell him how much you love him, cherish him, can't get enough of him, etc. Loves being stuffed as full as possible. Get someone significantly bigger than him to lift him up and slowly force him down on a huge dildo and watch as his eyes cross, mouth hangs open, distant little "ngah-ahh!"s slipping from his mouth as he can't stop rolling his hips, feeling every. Last. Inch. Filling his belly. Just panting, mindlessly clinging onto his partner, completely incapable of anything other than bouncing on that glorious appendage until he comes so hard he sees galaxies.

New Moon/Nexus... this one's interesting. He doesn't know whether he's like Old Moon and aroace, or something else. To me that means he's never cared enough to explore it. I think, now that he's becoming more of his own person, he may branch out and try new things (*cough* Dusk *cough*). I can see him engaging in experimental hate sex at first, and slowly learning what he likes through that. At first it's an experiment, later something he enjoys for its own merits.

Earth's like... panromantic demisexual. If that makes sense. She likes the person, and needs to feel safe and loved with them before she moves on to more. Sex is a very intimate and emotional thing for her.

[stromuprisahat]

Never take your Sun Summoner into the Shadow Fold sans previous announcement

Siege and Storm- Chapter 8

Nichevo'ya's bite?

Or the second amplifier too?

Once in her life, Alina makes a decent deduction, and immediately brushes it aside...

Meanwhile Sasha: "Oh babe, you're touching me from the inside?!"

Yeah, there's the age-old question how does the Fold feel to Aleksander?

If nichevo'ya are torn away from his very being, and the Fold was made through the same force, but with different intent, how well is he aware of the thing? And how aware of it he was to begin with? Did he have to "die" also because when the Fold was fresh, it had been too overhelming to function? I have SO many questions only Sasha can answer!

Alina doesn't want to participate in Sturmhond's experiments, because she doesn't think it's a good idea.

Why?

Because doesn't ~like~ it, and last time Maaal got hurt...

Why not offer stronger arguments?

The first time she entered the Fold, it was swarming with volcra even though they're supposed to move in small flocks, the Darkling literally told her he's like a beacon to them and "Like calls to like" right?!

"Hey dickhead, I'm not supporting your hunting expedition, because you wouldn't have the firepower necessary even if they weren't fucking starving. Do you want a living Sun Summoner, or to stroke your ego over our corpses once we'll crash?"

For a person, who likes to mouth off, Alina can't stand up for herself even if it would be prudent.

I know I'm fucking annoying, but shouldn't this lead to some kind of awakening?

Isn't this a moment a heroine should realize war is a terrible business, turning living bodies into mincemeat, so it should be stopped?!

Shouldn't this be a turning point, after which peace becomes her priority?

Oh yeah, babe! Panic attack!

... triggered by the slaughter…

... and when we're at it:

... broken in half?!

I raised my hand and brought it down in a blazing arc, slashing through the air. An earth-shaking crack echoed through the Fold as the sandskiff split in half. Raw screams filled the air and the volcra shrieked in their frenzy.

One of its masts had snapped in two... ?

The one you'd Cut, Alina?!

I felt the weight of the collar around my neck, the steady rhythm of the stag’s ancient heart beating in time with mine. My power rose up in me, solid and without hesitation, a sword in my hand. I lifted my arm and slashed. With an ear-splitting crack, one of the skiff ’s masts split in two. People bleated in panic and scattered as the broken mast fell to the deck, the thick wood gleaming with burning light. Shock registered on the Darkling’s face.

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 22

It's nice Alina doesn't feel fine, even looks for the bodies, but it somehow falls flat after avoiding to voice (even to herself) this didn't just happen to the skiff. She DID it.

... and we're back at "Feeling ashamed for even thinking about the Darkling", aren't we?!

Alina and the Darkling's little mental rendezvous will get its own post.

[thepenultimateword]

Fright or Flight

CW: Blood, murder, death,

The air reeked of blood. A thick, metallic haze that hung over every centimeter of the gore splattered room.

Villain hid beneath a long, folding table, fist clenched tightly between his teeth to keep from gagging--or worse, whimpering--and exposing his hiding place. In his free hand, he clutched the bloodied end of his tattered half cape. In the chaos, he'd slipped in one of the pools of gore, a disturbingly warm and sticky experience, though the sopping cloth now left him shivering. From the fear or the cold, he wasn’t sure.

It had happened like that. One moment they were all bustling around HQ figuring out the logistics of Supervillain's newest scheme, the next moment, carnage.

This wasn't how Villain's first day was supposed to go.

"Don't. Don't." Supervillain choked around the hero's strangling grip. Villian peered far enough from his cover to see as she thrust the master criminal halfway out a window.

"And I should let you keep wreaking havoc because?" Her voice ran cold, as chilled as the ice water people claimed ran through her veins.

Superhero. Villain had heard about her. Horror stories for rookies he'd always assumed, but now...just looking at her...he wondered if those stories hadn't been understated.

"B-because I can get you information, keep you in the loop on other villains' schemes." Suddenly Supervillain grasped their pride again and broke into a loud snarl. "I'm an asset!"

Superhero scoffed, dropping one finger off Supervillain's collar to let him flail and sway. "You forget I know you. The moment I let you go, you'll either disappear and cause trouble somewhere else, or you'll scramble for your allies and attack me back tenfold. No. No loose ends. Aren't you the one who taught me that?"

"That wasn't-- Superhero, if you just listen!"

"Sorry, I don't make a habit of conversing with criminals."

And she dropped him.

The scream only lasted a couple seconds. As soon as he passed the top two floors, the wind lifted the shriek away as cleanly and crisply as if it'd never happened.

Villain's insides squeezed in on themselves, and he clutched hard at his gut as he slid further back against the wall. The last thing he needed was a shadow or a shoestring giving him away on Superhero's way out.

Or that had been the plan. Before his wet clothes decided to give a terrible squeak on the tile floor.

Villain froze. clenching either side of his half cape in both hands now and pulling it around him like a shield.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Superhero's red boots, stained darker from the blood, stopped right in front of his hiding spot. Now that Villain looked closer, it wasn't much of a hiding spot with the trail of blood leading right underneath.

Long auburn hair came into view first, the ends gathering together to tickle the floor, then a bloodied temple, and then those heart-stopping blue eyes. Like ice chips that somehow also burned.

Her gaze locked with his, and he flattened himself against the drywall. A fly in a web. A mouse on sticky trap. Prey backed into its hole.

"Who are you?" Superhero said. No real curiosity. Barely a speck of any feeling at all.

Villain swallowed, but that only served to paste the walls of his throat tighter together. "V-Villain..." he barely squeaked.

"Never heard of you."

"I-I'm...new. Today new."

"Unlucky day to start a job."

"Yeah."

Strong fingers seized him by the ankle and the next thing he knew, Superhero had dragged him on his back out into the open. The murderess stood over him, staring as if to peel him apart, and all he could do was stare back and pray the urge to kill didn't strike her.

She toed at his throat. "You're so fresh, I can practically smell the paint drying."

"I've done things!" Villain defended sharply. Idiotically. Why was he saying that? She didn't need to actually see him as a target and tear his head from his body! Just...for some reason the thought of her not taking him seriously was almost just as gut wrenching.

"Oh really? Such as?"

"Th-things. Bad things. I...I was hired by Supervillain."

Superhero raised her brow. "You want out alive, don't you?"

"Um...yes? If that's an option, I would very much like--"

"Then don't tempt me."

Another dry swallow, this time tagged with a sort of choking, dying animal sound. "Ok."

Superhero nodded. "My moral code doesn't allow mercy for a certain caliber of criminal. You seem mostly harmless. So I'll be going now."

Villain could only squeak in response.

Supervillain lifted the teasing-threatening pressure of her boot off his jugular and moved out of view, the light tap of her soles soon fading into nothingness.

For a long time, Villain couldn't move. His heart beat too rapidly and every muscle coiled so tightly that any attempt at getting up shot sharp cramps up his limbs.

In fact, it wasn't until Other Villain and her vultures came scrounging an hour later that he was able to--with some help--sit upright.

"How did you survive?" was the first thing out of Other Villain's mouth.

Villain shrugged. Even if he could get the words to come, he really couldn't say why the hero had chosen to question him out of everyone. Eventually, Other Villain had enough silence and pulled him against the wall to wait while her vultures went through stained shirts and pockets.

"Other Villain?" Villain called eventually, once they moved on to stealing larger items, like furniture and plans.

"Hm?" Other Villain said as she poured the contents of a desk drawer into her backpack.

"How does one get on Superhero's radar?"

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