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#this. yeah this fic. uhm pain
astermath · 10 days
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hiya! i’m a really big fan of your stranger things work and I was wondering, if youre comfortable of course, a steve x reader period imagine where reader tried to hide their period from Steve, but he finds out and is super fluffy and sweet about it? thank you!
HAHAH wow i have let this ask stew in my inbox since last year thats CRAZY im so sorry my dear,, i was going through old asks and i rlly like this prompt actually so here u go, i hope u enjoy!!!!
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pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader
tags: established relationship, obv mentions of periods / menstruation, reader is referred to as female, steve being dense at first lol, regular sized font below!
wc: 1.4K
notes: while the reader in this fic is female, i am well aware not everyone who has a period is a girl, and not everyone who's a girl has a period!
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Steve is one attentive boyfriend.
It’s the early stages of your relationship, the golden era, the honeymoon phase. And while you’re a still a bit nervous about it all, you couldn’t be happier, because he does it all right.
He knows your favourite snacks, what music you like, what makes you laugh, what makes you cry. He’s starting to figure out your ins and outs, and it’s almost crazy how quickly he’s catching on. You have no reason to feel judged by him at any point, he truly is comfort poured into the shape of a person.
So then why are you staring at your phone right now, struggling to dial his number and just tell him why you can’t make it to your date?
It’s not usually this bad, at least it hadn’t been for a while, so why now, of all moments, must you be forsaken to be terrorised by your period?
You bite your lip, laying flat onto your bed, hand over your lower stomach. It's right where the pain is just gnawing at you, just like the guilt is. But you know you’d feel even guiltier if you just stood him up, he doesn’t deserve that. You sit up, a tad slowly to save yourself from another cramp, and swallow your nerves for now.
“I’ll just… Tell him I’m sick. Yeah… Yeah I can do that.” You think to yourself.
The combination of his number had started to feel natural to your fingers now, unlike how anxiously you pressed the buttons the first time, triple checking before finally pressing call. You're triple checking again now, more so because you're not sure you can handle hearing the defeat in his voice when you tell him you can't make it.
The phone barely gets a moment to ring before he picks it up, and his all too familiar sweet voice comes through the device.
"Hey babe, everything okay over there?"
You pause a moment before replying. "How did you know it was me calling?"
"Lover's intuition." He chuckles, and it makes your heart flutter. It's not fair how easy it is for him to do that to you, but you enjoy it nonetheless. "So, what's going on?"
"I, uh..." God, getting the words out is like pulling teeth. But you'd rather die than let him think you just got cold feet about your movie date. "I'm really not feeling too well right now, Steve... I'm-- I'm so sorry, I'm gonna have to cancel for tonight." Your eyes are welling up with tears before he even gets a chance to reply, just imagining his pretty face losing its bright expression when hearing your unfortunate news.
"Oh," damnit, he does sound sad, "that's okay, uhm... Is there anything I can do? What kinda sick is it?"
Shit, he's gonna make you say it, isn't he? You know Steve is a mature guy, he knows about periods, knows how they work, but you've been told to suck it up and get on with it before... A part of you is still disappointed that you just can't.
"U-Uhm... It's more like, a stomach thing, I guess?" It's the best way you can put it for now, hoping it'll put his worries to rest.
"Okay, I see..." You can nearly hear him thinking, the subtle noise of bags being moved and a fridge being opened coming through the phone. "Uh, how aboouuut... I come over to yours, and we just watch a movie at home? I still got a couple of tapes we haven't gotten to, and I can bring some light snacks that won't upset your stomach too much."
The thought of Steve caring for you while you're sick sends a warm feeling through your entire body. God, how does he just keep getting better? But you can't lie to him, right? It's not like you're really sick, unless you count the curse of menstruation as a symptom.
Before you get a chance to explain, he's talking again, and by the ruckus in the background you can only guess he's rushing to grab all his stuff. "I'll be heading out in a bit, I'll stop by the corner store too, stay put for me alright? See ya in a bit!"
You're sure he didn't realize he wasn't letting you talk, but frankly, you probably couldn't even come up with a response on time anyways. Right now, you just have to worry about looking somewhat presentable, and maybe figure out a way to tell him you're not actually sick.
By the time you've brushed your hair and brushed some mascara onto your lashes, you're already hearing the doorbell. You just manage to pull a fresh shirt over your head, before stumbling down the stairs and stopping in front of the door. With a deep, loaded, sigh you open it, to reveal your boyfriend.
Hair messed up, plastic bag in hand, jacket haphazardly thrown on. He clearly rushed to be here, still panting a little, but in your eyes, he's the image of your guardian angel, your saviour in need.
Before either of you know it, you're crying again, your freshly applied mascara now leaving thin black streaks over your cheeks. Your hands go up to cover your face, embarrassed, not even sure why you're sobbing all of a sudden. The feelings just hit you like a freight train, rocking you before you even have a time to rationalize.
Steve's expression falters, the bag he had in hand dropping to the floor in an instant, stepping in closer so he can carefully wrap his arms around you and pull you to his chest. Not too tight, he doesn't want to startle you. He's a bit distraught; he's really only seen you cry at a sad movie scene before, so he's a bit unsure as to what's caught you to be so upset right now.
"I-I'm sorry..." you manage to mutter through your incoherent sobs and sniffs, effectively ruining the front of his shirt in the process.
"Hey, hey..." His big hands go up to your face, gently cupping your wettened cheeks as he looks into your teary eyes. Hell, the image of you is almost enough to make him break too. "What're you sorry for? You can't help it that you're sick, right?"
The reminder of your lie makes you want to break eye contact in shame, but it's hard to force yourself to lose sight of that soft, caring gaze of his.
"I," sniff, "I lied, I'm so sorry Steve, I-- I'm not sick, I just... I have..."
He watches you expectedly, not upset, just curious. You'd surely have your reasons if whatever caused you to cancel is making you this upset.
"I'm... I'm just on my period and it-- it hurts really bad, it's not even usually this bad, and I felt like I was overreacting and I feel so bad and--" Your ramble gets cut short by his chuckle, the same one that nearly caused you to melt over the phone earlier.
"W-Wha... Why are you laughing?" You're not sure if you should be happy or worried, you're already experiencing so much at once, it's hard to pick one emotion to feel.
"Nothing, it's just, well," he picks up the bag he dropped, opening it slightly to show the bars of chocolate, candy and your favorite chips inside. "I had a feeling."
The sight of it makes you snap out of your state of distress, and you can’t help but crack a smile through your tears. “Seriously? How?”
He shrugs, a sheepish smile adorning his face. “I told you, lover’s intuition.” He pulls you back to him and kisses your head. “There’s another bag in the car with chicken soup in case I was wrong.”
You both laugh, just hugging on your doorstep for a moment. You have to let it sink in, that maybe Steve just is that sweet and considerate of a guy.
“D’you wanna go inside, or does standing outside help with cramps?” He pulls back a little, and you fight the urge to poke him in the ribs for his sarcasm. You love it either way.
“Yeah, let’s go inside. We can watch When Harry Met Sally and I can cry my eyes out again. Sound good?”
“Sounds perfect.”
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hii! could you do like jock!clarisse x like nerd!reader like clarisse bullies her and somehow by the end like they like each other (btw it’s like still set at camphalfblood) but hopefully this makes sense😭 anyways i love your fics sorry if you can’t ! :) xx
A/n: love this and thank you! Sorry I took so longg
Clarisse la rue x demigod!fem!reader
warning: slight bullying fluff doesn't make much sense sorry
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you and Clarisse were never really on good terms you never but you really liked Clarisse for a long time but you knew someone like her would never love you always were reminded of it and of course, it hurts.
you were walking to archery class your hair in a messy bun some bits of your beautiful y/h/c your glasses almost about to fall off your face and then you suddenly bump into somebody your glasses fell off your face.
"Sorry... uhm I didn't... I didn't mean..." You looked for your glasses when you found them you put them on, looking up at the person
"finally found them four-eyes?" she said snickering 'oh my gods Clarisse?!' "Next time watch where you are going, okay? we wouldn't want me to step on your glasses?" she rudely shoved you out of her way while her pretty annoying fucking smirk still snickered while walking away with her friends.
you felt like your heart could break right there it felt upsetting, but you sighed "Whatever." angrily walking away but that anger quickly turned into pain as the days went by.
then it happened again maybe it was you, but you felt exhausted maybe because you'd been awake all night doing your homework you never liked staying up late because it always made you uncomfortable and emotional like always you kept to yourself not really feeling like being noticed today.
at break, Clarisse always had a knack for picking on you she sat right next to you "Hey, there four eyes" she said smiling how annoying but to you her smile was everything it was your most loved thing about her.
"What is it, Clarisse...?" you said slightly anxious a tired you had bags under your eyes feeling heavy like you were carrying the weight of the world.
"don't talk to me like that," she said annoyed by your attitude.
"oh, I'm sorry Your Highness," you said mockingly, and then getting up to walk away.
"ugh, annoying nerd.." she said sighing, Clarisse does like you she just has a very annoying way of showing it.
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the teacher who teaches archery told you that you needed someone to tutor you about how to hold your bow you hated the archery she always criticized your skills in archery.
then you hear Clarisse speak as she walks closer to you "Is this who you wanted me to teach, Mrs.?"
you groaned in pain, slightly uncomfortable because you actually liked her it's just imagine having to be tutored by your crush, "why does it, have to be her." you said quietly.
"y/n, Clarisse is the best person on the battlefield with any weapon you should be happy to be tutored by her so stop being ungrateful," she responded annoyed at your comment before walking away.
Clarisse walked closer to you, snickering looking you in your eyes lifting your chin to look at her as she was taller than you "Yeah well, I guess you are stuck with me for now, four-eye".
you groaned a rolled your eyes pushing her away softly "You are literally the devil in disguise." looking away and blushing looking away.
"Whatever, I know you love me~," she said walking away "Oh, and meet me here next week on Monday in the morning when I practice my archery not that I need to, but you know," she said with such confidence.
you knew she wasn't entirely wrong you really did like her.
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next week on Monday you went to where you had to meet up with Clarisse to see her training already you had never seen someone train so early in the morning.
"Finally, you here, what took you so long?" she said annoyed flipping her hair back.
you rolled your eyes annoyed "What are you talking about I was only 1 minute late." you said with an angelic voice.
"Well, that's a minute of my time wasted on you." in a soft tone as if she didn't really mean it, that's because she really didn't to her she could spend her time with you all the time, she freed up her time for you she had some errands to run today but she didn't do them because it would mess up her meet up.
"mhm? I thought this was supposed to be you teaching me how to "master the art of archery" or is it just a way for you to talk down on me?." you said with sarcasm in the last sentence.
"Whatever, just get your bow out," she said smiling softly at you.
as you get to training you point your arrow trying but always ending up missing your sigh, you knew the teacher was right, but you hate being told that a hundred times with you feel a tight
Clarisse observed how you wielded the bow a grinned as she walked up behind you "Just hold the bow like this, not like you holding a baseball bat." then she shot the arrow while holding your hands it didn't miss the target.
"you are not that bad, as I was hoping you would be~," you said with a grin that was when started becoming softer to you.
you two secretly hung out at night one of those nights you and Clarisse were in her cabin sitting next to each other just talking and laughing "Hey, Clarisse we need to talk seriously though..."
she looked confused a concerned "Hmm? Okay, what happened are you hurt?" shit she just said that.
"no, but i do have something to tell you, clarisse" you took a deep breath in a out "you no what never mind, i should go its getting pretty late anyway" you said awkwardly getting up to leave
she looked confused then she quickly grabbed your hand "wait! don't go..." she said before you went.
"What is it, Clarisse?" you said concerned at her suddenly with a very concerned face because you thought what a mess you've gotten yourself into you said still going to leave until you heard clarisse speak.
"y/n, the truth is that I distanced from you because I love you!.." she covered her mouth can't believe she said that she looked away embarrassed.
"really?.." you said softly walking over to sit next to her "do you really like a nerd like me?.." you said turning her chin to look at you.
Clarisse sat silently and sighed "why wouldn't I not love you?, your perfect to your head to the tip of your toes, I don't ever want to hear you say that about yourself." She said softly holding your hand "that's why I love you your personality your looks your everything.." using her free hand to caress your face
The warmth of her words was like heaven and earth combined the way the sunlight shines on her face the way the light highlights her hair with such grace is like a beauty yet to be discovered "I love you too, clarisse I love the way the sunlight shines on your beautiful face and hair." You said with an angelic voice kissing her cheek.
Clarisse smiled softly, "I would want nothing less than to be with you as well, my sweet heart." She said with such kindness her heart felt in peace.
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Bonus!!!
You and clarisse were walking around with each other everyone knew that you belonged to her "clarisse I'm so tired of walking maybe we should just sit down my feet hurt."
Clarisse scoffed "well then I'll just carry you!" She said happily
You scoffed "you can't carry me!" But then she picked you up bridal style whilst some of the girls stared in jealousy "what did you, say?"
"whatever." You said annoyed then she started giggling.
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uplatterme · 1 year
Text
Just a sample or two, I’m sure you’ll manage.
—sub!dottore/dom!reader, zandik!dottore, transmasc!reader (this is mostly dottore!receiving so no mention of the reader’s genitalia, but it’s still implied reader is transmasc), masochistic!dottore/sadistic!reader | imagined knifeplay (cuts), overstimulation, crying, degradation, slight dumbification, slight blood play, pain kink, unnegotiated kinks but everything is consensual (idk about safe or sane though because it’s dottore)
—i don’t know how to feel about this fic tbh. but it’s here. it’s okay. (edit: i reread it and its quite good)
Zandik knocks over the cup of coffee on his desk when he hears his door getting banged on. He swears that whoever is outside that door is going to get it, he’ll tear them apart into shreds and feed their body to the tigers…
With an annoyed face, Zandik opens up the door, ready to “politely” tell them to get the hell out of his face. The words are already on the tip of his tongue but he rests easy when he recognizes that it's only you, his next-door neighbor.
He quickly tries to remember if his room is a mess. Fuck, he did do laundry a while back, yeah? Does his room smell good? Is his bed fixed?
He panics, why are you even here?
He thinks all of that within three seconds.
“Zandik! I hope I'm not bothering you?” You stand outside his door, bearing that smile he somehow can’t say no to.
“You’re fine, come in.” He says as cool as he can, you’re the only person in your darshan that he can get along with. Hell, you’re the only person in the Akademiya he can tolerate.
“So, uhm.” You start, you’re carrying your bag so he assumes you just came from a class. 
“Yes?”
“I have a favor to ask.”
He doesn’t miss the way you seem to be dancing around the topic. It’s not as if he cares what that favor is, if you ask him to kill a person for you then he’d do it, no questions asked.
“Spit it out then.”
You sigh, sitting down on his bed.
“You know I'm a scholar of Amurta.”
“Of course, you never fail to not bring it up every time I ask you about the subject of human anatomy.” He states, as if that wasn’t obvious already.
“I may need a…sample of sorts.”
Oh, that’s an easy fix. Were you too shy to ask for his blood? That’s strangely endearing.
“How much?” Zandik asks.
“Well, a cup? Maybe two so I don't mess up.” You quickly answer, you appear to be surprised at his immediate response.
“For blood? That seems quite a lot.” Zandik questions, it’s not that he won’t give you it, he’s just a bit confused.
“Not that…”
“What is it then?”
He hears you whisper something and Zandik swears that his ears are fucking with him.
“…Say that again?”
“Seminal Fluid?”
He's stunned for a bit. He opens his mouth to say something but closes it back once he discerns that that’s not the proper response to this situation.
“C-Can’t you do it yourself?” He asks, looking away from you.
Despite his wanting to be with you romantically, you two have never engaged in any of the sort. The most you’ve done is the slight brushing of your hands when working on an experiment.
“Zandik, you know I can't.”
He almost asks again why that is when he realizes.
“Oh.”
He blushes furiously and to your perspective, this might look strange. But when he hears you tearing up someone’s guts next door past bedtime hours, it’s hard not to imagine himself being the one who’s in your partner’s position.
In other words, he’s dreamed too much of being dicked down by you that he forgot about your case to begin with, not that it really matters to him.
And he would never admit to this, but sometimes the noises get a bit too loud for comfort that he has to take care of himself alone while he visualizes you doing that to him. 
He hears you cough, standing up and trying to walk away from this whole thing as if nothing ever happened.
“You know what, I'll leave. I’ll find someone else.” 
It is an embarrassing situation, this was not a scene that he had expected and prepared for.
“W-Wait,” He calls out, his hand grasping your wrist.
“Zandik, you don’t have to. I’ll just pay someone else to do it.” You explained to him that it really isn’t that big of a deal. “I think I came here because you’re my go-to person.” You chuckle.
Zandik really wants to cuss you out, you can’t just say that to him out of nowhere and then decide to leave right after.
He stammers out a response, “I-I’ll do it.”
“You will?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
It’s just silence for a few seconds until you decide to leave him be to do his business, telling him that you’ll just be next door and to take as much time as he needs.
And when the door slams in front of his face, is when he realizes the severity of his decision.
You’re telling him he’s supposed to jack off while knowing that you’re aware he’s doing exactly that?
Zandik unbuckles his belt, deciding that he might as well get this over with as soon as possible.
Then thirty minutes pass by.
Zandik has not filled a cup, nor is he even halfway to a climax. He tries to think of everything. Well, everything but you, imagining things that would turn him on that aren't you or fantasies that involve you. 
He somehow finds this task to be difficult.
His cock is sitting on his leg half-hard, he’s racking his brain to find something that will make this easier and he soon realizes that every single time he’s masturbated somehow involved you in some kind of way.
He doesn’t want to believe that at all, surely not. 
Is he really that into you? 
He reminisces of each time you’ve been with him, the times when you lay an arm on his shoulder, pulling him closer to you without notice. The times when you whisper directly into his ear in the library that sends the poor man into a shock with how he feels your breathing on his neck, wanting you to lay those lips on his skin, to just mark him without care while trying not to get caught by the other students passing by your table.
Zandik whimpers just at the thought of it. He snaps out of his thoughts once he notices that he’s fully hard now, with precum even oozing out his dick. 
He plays with the white liquid, he relishes the fact that you’re able to affect him like this when you’re not even here, to begin with. He grits his teeth, warming the tip with his palm, the stickiness making Zandik slightly quiver from how messy it is. 
His control over his own thoughts and body is slowly starting to slip, his hips moving on their own as his cock longs for the warmth of his hand. He stifles back a moan, thinking about you has his mind going dumb.
He wonders if you know about these feelings of his, the way he has to excuse himself each instance your touches linger on for too long, his entire body stiffening as a pathetic noise tries to escape his throat.
“Haah…”
He wants to stay quiet, knowing that the walls are quite thin and that if he can hear you from back then, so is the opposite.
He breathes impatiently. This isn’t enough at all, he needs more.
Zandik wants to know how it would feel to have you explore his entire body, to have you see every vein and how his blood flows throughout his skin. He knows you’d grow fascinated by him, like you would with any cadaver.
His head tilts back at the thought of you slicing him open, drawing cuts with a scalpel on his thighs as he bleeds, the wounds aching as your tongue licks them oh so slowly. His cock twitches, the stroking of his length getting more and more desperate.
He grows weak as he envisions you squeezing them as you penetrate him, spreading him apart without any preparation whatsoever. He sobs at that, he needs you to put him into his place, to shame him for thinking such disgusting things. To treat him as nothing more than trash, that he’s a whore for enjoying these kinds of acts.
His left hand grips the sheets for stability, the other continuing to pump himself until he spills. His vision blurs from both the pleasure and the tears, almost forgetting about the reason why he’s doing this to begin with, too high of his lust for you.
He stumbles over, aiming for the cups you’ve given him. 
Zandik moans loudly as he finishes, not all of his fluid gets into the containers. In fact, most of it splattered all over his bed and his legs. He waits until he stops cumming, panting heavily as sweat drips off his forehead.
It’s worrying how much of a pull you have toward him.
He sits there for a few minutes, resting easy until he hears knocking on the door.
“Y-Yeah?” He calls out from his bed, too tired to stand up.
“Are you done?”
Zandik immediately rushes to the door, taking his blanket with him to cover his lower half.
He opens the door with a slight shake of his hand, openly oblivious to how he looks right now to you.
His hair is a mess, his face… 
He looks as if he’s in a daze, and he is, for the most part. There are traces of tears from his wet eyelashes, eyes staring at you as if he’s begging for you to take a bite out of him, to fuck him right then and there.
He looks so pitiful and vulnerable, an appearance that you’ve never seen of him, an appearance that he’d never show others, an appearance that he’d only show to you.
His legs are bare, the blanket doing nothing to hide the shape of his hips. There’s cum dripping down his legs and you knew you should have knocked later. But once you heard your friend sound like that, your urges got the best of you.
You’re sure glad you didn’t stop yourself.
“R-Right…You need it warm, yes?” Zandik says, embarrassed at what he’s just done and thought of while he got himself off.
“Yeah…” You answer, mind focused on his figure instead of what you initially came here for.
He hands you the containers you’ve given him, the liquid splashing. 
“Thank you, Zandik.”
“Of course, anytime…” He replies.
You could just leave, pretend as if you didn’t hear him earlier or those other times he’s fucked himself alone while moaning out your name, distracting you even if you were in bed with another.
“Hey, Zandik?”
“Hm?”
You know he’s into you, and the gods know you’d be lying if you claimed you weren’t turned on by Zandik right now.
The next few moments are a blur and Zandik is unsure how he’s ended up at a loss for words, his legs being spread apart by your hands as he’s forced to bear the shame of you seeing him already so stiffened despite just cumming a few minutes ago.
“So soaked…”
“S-Sorry…” He apologizes, trying to look away.
Zandik blushes at the fact he hasn’t trimmed there in a while.
“Cute.”
His heart beats loudly in his chest, unsure of how to process this whole thing.
He’s not complaining at all, no. He’s just surprised at how you’re being so forward with him like this, not sure whether to take this as a one-time thing or if there’s something more to your actions.
“What would you like me to do?” You question.
That’s a loaded question. What doesn’t he want you to do?
Everything, he wants to say. He wants to be greedy. He’s been waiting for something like this to happen for so long, it’d be a waste to just be shy and act like this.
Still, thinking that is easier than actually doing it.
“T-Touch me, please.”
“How? Won’t you show me how you do it, Zandik?”
He nods shyly, bringing his hand to his cock. He’s much more sensitive now than before since he’s just had his orgasm. He ponders on what lay behind those eyes of yours, staring him down intensely as he tries to focus on himself.
It doesn’t take much for him to be hard, especially with how your hands feel on his thighs. It’s shameful to see himself leaking so much already, a lot quicker than when he did this alone earlier.
His hips convulse while he strokes himself, “Aren’t you eager?” You ask him, but that just makes him whine impatiently.
This is a lot tamer than he had imagined but that doesn’t erase the satisfaction that he’s getting right now.
“I might cum…” He simply says, still keeping at the same pace.
“Are you asking for permission?”
Zandik whimpers out softly, nodding his head at your question.
“Do you think you deserve it?”
Does he? He thinks he does, but what if you don’t think the same way? A loud gasp escapes him, he can’t hold it for much longer. Tears start to form again from his ducts, a sobbing mess who just wants to please you as much as he can.
Chants of your name and pleading continue, yet it won’t seem like you’re taking that as an answer.
A  sudden pain shocks his entire body when he feels your nails digging down his thighs. Each second is a nightmare, your nails going deeper and deeper as blood drips down to his sides, staining the sheets of his bed.
God, that feels so fucking good.
“H-Hurts…” He says.
“Yeah? Maybe, If you answer my question, I’ll let you go.” You continue pressing on the newmade wounds, raising a moan out of him.
“I-I don't know…”
“Ah, but Zandik. Aren’t you the smart one?”
He sobs, he’s supposed to agree with you but doesn’t find it in his mind to do so right now. “Please—can’t hold it.”
You continue to stare at him in silence, even as Zandik loses control, apologizing repeatedly for finishing with your say.
His thighs twitch every few seconds, his eyelids getting heavier when he tries to focus on the fact that you’re still on top of him.
“My, I’m still here you know?” 
You make that perfectly clear when you shove your fingers into his gaping mouth, the taste of his own cum and blood makes him gag, yet you continue to push your fingers down his throat. He slobbers all over them, yet he takes it with no resistance. He wants you to go even deeper, to ruin his throat.
Eventually, you pull away. The sound that comes out of him is hoarse, yet he still stares at you with loving eyes.
“Want you.” Zandik begs, 
“Prove it, darling.”
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tokio-motel · 5 months
Note
CUZ UR HOT
N UR COLD
YA YES
THEN UR NO
UR IN THEN UR OUT
UR UP THEN UR DOWNN
i hate katy perry
anywayyyyyy
AHEM
lemme get theeeee biskit. chickon.(gonna need that bill headcanons or full fic baby i do not carreeeee)
sooooo imagine bill usually is on the bottom right?(weird to imagine ik) and at one point he asks reader if he can try topping for once like jus to give it a try for the next time and i can imagine he’s a lil nervous abt it ykyk😔
not stuttering much or anything he’s jus like ‘ay can i do wat u do🥹🙏🏾’ and readers prolly like ‘ion gaf’ and bill is prolly so happy n shi and when it’s time to get freaky asl bill is a tinyyy bit nervous but he jus does what reader does to him for like touching n shi(feelin his hips and waist up, marking him, whispering praise when they whimper etc etc) and i can imagine it’s also reader first time on the bottom too so he’s all sensitive n shit bro😇
and when it’s time for bill to do the thrust thrust 3000😈😈😈 reader is moaning whining and whimpering ALL over the place and so is bill like this is different bill is adoring how he’s never heard these sounds n shi from his bf and like the way he’s reacting with his body bru and bill probably can’t fucking stop💀💀 like maybe 4 or 5 rounds in he’s like ‘wait no no no one more time i promise it’s the last time this time’ like he’s ADDICTED. and prolly by the end he prolly gonna top for a whileeeee
i wanna listen to kesha bro
anyways this long ASF I LOVE YOU HONEY🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾
BILL KAULITZ X READER: TOPPING
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contains nsfw themes; don't like don't read.
・He's fantasized about..topping you before.
・Really- he can’t stop thinking about it. He often finds himself daydreaming about all the different things he would do, the things he would say..
・He's tried to ask you before about the thought, but he'd get nervous and brush it off.
・Eventually he found the courage to ask you, gulping audibly as you sat infront of him with an almost concerned look.
"So uhm...so about uhm..I was wondering if I could...you know..top sometime? Just to try it out and.. "
・He trails off, sheepishly looking at you. He watches your eyebrow quirk up slightly and he exhales slowly, he's scared for what you'll say and how you'll react and-
"I don't care."
・When the time comes he feels a bit nervous and slightly worried but just decides to go with what his mind tells him to do..which is almost everything you'd do to him.
・He'd be gentle at first, kissing down your jawline as his hands trail down to grab your waist, listening to the breathy moans you make as you lean your head back into the pillow.
・His hands would lightly grab your legs as he peppered kisses all over your inner thighs, savouring the whimpers you'd let out.
・He'd whisper sweet nothings while slowly pushing in (ew) , shushing you lightly as you hissed in pain, eyes squeezed shut as tears threatened to overflow.
・He'd stay put, waiting for you to adjust to the new sensation. He gently nibbled your neck and wiped your tears with the back of his thumb.
・Whatever headspace he's in, there's no backing out now.
・As soon as you say he can move, he moves in and out, going at a steady pace that has you whimpering, desperately clinging to the bedsheets and occasionally scratching his back.
・Listening to your noises you make, he feels so zealous.
・He's never heard you make these kinds of noises before; the fact HE can make YOU sound like this??? He's over the moon.
"See? You're doing so well, so good.."
・Can't help but let out a few soft groans and moans as he continues, you just feel so good.
・He doesn't wanna stop, he wants to take advantage of this situation.
"Wait..just one more yeah? Last time I promise.."
"..you said that two rounds ago."
・Two rounds turns into three, three turns into four, four turns into five....
・You've never felt so sore yet complete in your life.
"Can I stay on top for now?"
"...sure. Why not?"
・He's actually so happy like wtf 😭
182 notes · View notes
sungbeam · 13 days
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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!
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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.”
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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.
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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.”
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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
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bugs1nmybrain · 2 months
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Backdoor - Shigaraki x fem reader (Anal sex)
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Notes: some people may remember anal being in my "do not request" list, but I've become more open-minded lately. I have a complicated relationship with anal so I was hoping to write a fic that was realistic and not hard ramming up the ass sex with no lube. I am projecting with this fic so bad
Warnings: Anal, 18+ (minors don't interact), fem-reader, reader experiences pain, Shigaraki is considerate and is actually somewhat scared of hurting the reader, soft Tomura and I won't apologize for making him a sweetheart, praise!!!, clitoral fingering, white-haired Shigaraki (s5ish), reader is immune to Tomura's quirk, no condom but they use hella lube, after sex pillow talk
Word Count: 3001
MINORS DON'T INTERACT
When it came to anal, you felt at a loss. Would you love to appease this little fantasy of his? Sure. But it wasn't an easy task and it wasn't your fault that your ass wasn't designed for any visitors.
It made you feel bad because you wanted to meet Tomura's needs. You'd catch him late at night watching some pretty crazy porn while you were sleeping. Some of it involved anal. Not always, but frequent enough to make you feel like you weren't enough for him.
You were actually the one who brought it up first. Tomura had made anal jokes here and there, but he seemed to catch the drift that you didn't want to. He understood that it would hurt, but he was convinced that you were drilling most of that anxiety in your head. Not that he'd admit it to most people, but he had experimented with anal himself on a rare occasion. He surprisingly discovered that taking it up the ass was pleasurable for him. He just needed to lather himself with spit and he was good (do not use spit, don't be like Shigaraki).
So why didn't you like it? Well, put simply. Ow. It fucking hurt. You knew because you had tried it with your sex toys and every time you put yourself through agonizing pain that wasn't like any other feeling. You panicked when that pain would stab you instantly, and you'd immediately take it out. It made you feel insecure and undesirable.
When you brought it up to Tomura, the instant giddy look on his face told you upfront that he had been waiting for this moment like a kid on Christmas Eve. A part of you felt squeamish about his instant agreeable response, and another part of you simply melted away at his cute smile.
"If..if we did it. Would you stop? If it hurt?" you asked while spacing out.
"Yeah, of course. But, like, it's gonna probably hurt at first. Gotta push through it," he slied at you.
Tomura noticed your brows furrow in fear and almost felt guilt. You're the one who proposed this idea, though. You didn't have to bring this up, but you did. He was a little confused but nonetheless excited. Your pussy was incredible and nothing could ever take the place of that gushy warm wetness. However, he wanted to try another side of the cake. Spice things up.
"Hey, hey," he said cooed with a soft, raspy voice. "I'll be easy on you, alright? Nothing crazy. Think of this as testing the waters."
"I-uhm, okay," you nodded shyly. Tomura stepped closer and rubbed his thumb on your cheek in attempts to comfort you.
"Ya sure?"
"I am. I trust you, Tomura."
That's a bold statement, he thought.
"Hehehee, okayyy. Sooo, now? Are we doing this now?" Tomura perked up with a beam in his eyes. You could already see that his crotch looked a little bigger through his pants, though constricted by how tight his jeans were.
"Yea,, uhm. I actually got something that I thought would help."
"You mean lube?"
"Yea. I know some guys think it ruins the fun but-"
"Are you assuming that I'm like "other guys?" Your misandry is showing, y/n," he jokes with a chuckle.
"No! I just know it probably ruins how tight it feels."
"I wouldn't know, but "probably" not. I don't need you cutting the circulation off to my dick, anyway."
You laughed at his witty remarks, which in turn eased the tension you felt about what you were going to do with him. As you both sat on the bed, laughing at each other, Tomura took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb in your palm.
"I'll take good care of you, okay? You don't have to be scared."
Instinctively, you relax into his embrace, resting your head on his chest while he held you snug. "So damn emotional," he thought cockily, though Tomura absolutely adored it when you needed his affection like this. He knew better that the invitation you gave him to your ass was probably an attempt to secure your bond with him. Perhaps you thought he'd love you more if you did this. Not exactly true, but he certainly wasn't complaining. He has wanted this since he met you. He'd keep these fluffy thoughts of his to himself, at least until it was over and done with.
Tomura kissed your temple first, then started teasing his way to your neck. He gave you love bites on your neck and shoulders, making you yelp out a tiny "ow!" His teeth were as sharp as knives sometimes, but he tried his best to not be so rough.
Soft sex wasn't something Tomura was above. He liked making love, too, and just enjoying being in love with you. He was indeed rough, though. Needy may be an accurate way of saying it. Sex would start out slow and affectionate, but usually end up very fast and deep. He'd pound your pussy as if he was taking something out on you, maybe he was. Lucky for you his rough treatment made you tremble and cum hard underneath him, and you felt best when he finished inside and pulled you into a tight cuddle with him for the rest of the night. You just hoped he wouldn't be so aggressive tonight.
As Tomura continued to give your neck wet kisses, he trailed his fingers up the sides of your shirt, eagerly tugging it off.
"Hehe, boobies."
He could be such a fucking kid sometimes.
"Shut up."
"What did you say to me?" He says, gripping your jaw gently to face him. "Repeat that?"
You blushed so deeply and giggled, making him cock a smirk. He bit his lip as he stared at your tits that rested in your bra, having no remorse for his gaze. "Take this off."
Obliging to his request, you hear a heavy "mmm" sound from Tomura's throat. When your tits bounced out of your cup bra, Shigaraki felt his dick strain. He didn't think much, and reached out to touch you shamelessly.
"Tomura!"
"I gotta get you wet," he muttered sensually. "God knows we could use all the help we can get in the lube department."
He squeezed, sucked, and pinched at you with hunger. Soon after, your pants were torn to shreds by his quirk (while you were immune to his quirk, your clothes weren't), mostly because Tomura was getting irritated by how hard they were to get off of you. Once you were pantsless, he could see by the drench of your panties that you were hungry for him.
He reached inside of your underwear, searching for that little lady he loved to mess around with. Years on a game controller did him favors when it came to you. He found your clit easily and gave her gentle strokes. He could feel how swollen and soaked you were without even taking off your panties, and he became hungrier as you whimpered in pleasure.
"You like that, baby?" he asked in a half-genuine, half-conceded tone.
"Mmhmm," you nod vigorously with your eyes shut.
Tomura's fingers circled around your clit, building faster and faster as he went on. He could feel you beginning to contract your hips and relax as you lay back. You were close, and he was going to make you cum good. It's what you deserve for treating him with such a lovely present tonight.
You felt your clit begin to spasm, and waves of pleasure flooded your body. You let out a moan of gratitude and became wetter when you reached your orgasm. "Awhh Tomura-awhh~"
"Yeahh..that's a good girl. Cum all over my fingers."
"MNnnmm!"
Tomura kept swirling his fingers gently as you continued to ride out your orgasm, and as you came down from your high, he whipped your slickness downward.
"hmm-!" you shook, almost forgetting what the initial goal was. You froze as still as you could while he rubbed your pussy juice on your ass.
"Where's the lube you bought?"
"In my bag," you replied. Shigaraki quickly grabbed it and zipped back onto the bed with lightning speed. He set the lube beside you and continued rubbing your fluids on your ass. His fingers rested before your hole, pressing against it slowly.
"Tomura.."
"I'm going to loosen you up a little before I go in, okay? I'm not the smallest."
"Uh-huh."
"You'll be regretting that when it's up your ass."
You giggled and tried to relax the best you could. Tomura continued to talk," Actually, turn around."
"Okay," you complied, turning so that your ass was toward him. He pulled your panties down, revealing your perfect, full figure to him. He swore he was going to blow his load right there if he didn't reel himself in. His fingers returned, rubbing wet circles onto you. He finally decided to push them in, easing in with caution.
"Ah!"
Your exclamation probably startled Tomura more than what was happening to you. He removed his fingers quickly and decided to rub your ass to soothe you.
"You have to relax. If you tense up like that it's going to hurt like a bitch. Here, I'll get the lube, alright?"
He reached for the bottle and flicked the cap off. Taking a generous squirt of it on his fingers, he rubbed the cold substance into your hole. "Mm..." you whimpered in discomfort, though the lube was making it easier.
"Is it cold?" Tomura asks.
"Yea."
"Sorry. We're gonna have to use a lot of it, though."
"I know."
"Turn this way."
"Hm?"
"You know how people lay when they're getting a colonoscopy?"
"Uhhh..? Maybe?" you guess, not expecting such a bizarre question.
Tomura's hands guide you to lie on your side, with his fingers returning shortly after. From this angle, it felt more tolerable, though uncomfortable even so. His fingers moved in and out, fingering inside as he tried to stretch you to accommodate his impending penis.
"You have no idea how hard my cock is, y/n," he flirts, causing your body to respond with unintentional tension. "Don't stiffen up now. You're getting there."
You tried breathing throughout the sensation of his fingers, and you weren't quite sure if you were in pain or not. Tomura spoke as if he could read your mind.
"Does this hurt?"
"I don't know. I think it's okay."
"Well, you've been taking them for a bit, now. I think you're adjusting," Tomura reaches for the lube and lathers your, ass up more with it fingering the lube inside and making sure there's plenty up front for when he goes in.
"I think-or-I, uh.."Tomura clammed up, somewhat nervous himself. "Are you ready?"
He rubbed your lower back, listening for your reply. He kissed your neck affectionately while he waited for your answer, making you giggle for him.
"Yea. We can..we can do it."
"Good girl," he praised.
You smiled at him, watching him pull down his pants. His cock sprung out, looking painfully hard and oozing pre already. You didn't realize how sizeable he actually was. Was it really going to fit in you? Would it go in at all?
Tomura came in for a spoon, wrapping his arms around you for a moment while he pet your hair.
"I love you," he says adoringly.
"Eheh...really?"
"The fuck you mean, really?" He teases. "Of course I do. You're my favorite girl..and...I'm very happy to do this with you."
"I am too. I love you so much, Tomura."
"hehe she loves me..." he blushes jokingly. "I'm going to start, okay?"
"Mhm," you assure.
Tomura's cock rubs on your asscheek, startling you by it's texture. He guides it to your entrance and rubs it around you. As if it dawned upon him, he quickly grabs more lube and rubs some on his cock, and a bit more onto you, too.
"Jesus that's cold!" he quietly hissed. His cock was thoroughly coated with lube, and he focused back at your ass. His tip stopped at your hole, "I'm pushing in, kay?"
You only nodded. Tomura's cockhead felt big against your hole, much bigger than when he's going for your pussy. Your heart was throbbing, so you grabbed for Tomura's free arm and held him like a comfort item. He started pushing in.
At first you thought you weren't feeling much, but then he sunk further and an instant shock of pain surged in your insides.
"OW OW!" you exclaimed in pain.
"Fuck! Sorry!" He pulled out quick. He looked at your face, worried he was going to make you cry or hate him. Fuck, he'd hate if he hurt you more than he expected.
"It's, it's okay. Just..try again," you huff.
"Alright," he lined himself back up with more lube. "Breathe, baby."
You did as suggested, breathing as well as possible as he pushed his cock in, deeper and deeper. He was being slow, and honestly, the slower he went the more it hurt.
"Just go, please," you trembled.
Tomura didn't register what you said right and thought you were telling him to go. "Baby,-"
"Tomura, keep going, please," you begged, trying to fight away tears from the pain.
"Okay." He did as you asked of him, thrusting in and out as smoothly as he could. He was slow but moved consistently without pausing. As you seemed to become more used to him, he was finally processing the immense pleasure he was receiving from this.
"Awh~," he began sighing. "Fuck, your ass is so tight."
"Eheh...I imagine..." you said in discomfort, fumbling with his hand for comfort. He held your hand in his snuggly, and unconsciously his pace grew faster. He paused only for a moment to put more lube down, making sure to be quick when he remembered it hurt worse when he would stop inside.
"Nnnfff...fuck y/n.." he sighed into your neck, pushing in and out. "Does...fuck...does it hurt?"
"It's not so bad.." you hummed, admittedly feeling some pleasure in what you assumed was your internal clitoral system, even if it was outshined by the discomfort.
"Good..good girl...mMmmfff," his eyes rolled back (not that you could see) and his mouth hung agape as his thrusts got faster.
"Eas--easier, Tomu-"
"I know, baby. Fuck...sorry...UhMmm..~" He held you close and buried his face into your hair while he tried to keep his pace at bay. You smelled nice, and the sensations of your scent, your soft skin, and the feeling of your ass were driving him up the wall. You felt fucking incredible.
"Mmm.." you let out a small moan. He couldn't tell if you were faking it for his sake, but you still sounded hot and it was making him leak in your ass. "Awh~."
He wasn't going to last, he thought. You perked your ass up more to him, and he moved in you at a sensual rhythm in response. He grabbed your tits as he huffed his hot breath on your neck, making yearning, groaning noises. The lube provided enough help for him to move in your ass without having to stop a lot, but naturally, you were still tight. You were squeezing his dick, surely cutting off that circulation he was talking about earlier.
"Tomura.."
Fuck. There he goes. He fucked you faster when his orgasm overtook him, and he savored your ass every second as he came thick inside of you. "Fuckin-God.."
You could feel it oozing inside. Tomura wriggled himself in you until every drop of his cum was out, and he finished by pulling out of your ass. You felt instantly relieved by the lack of his cock, and turned around to see him smiling at you with his shit-eating grin. He kissed your forehead and hummed in a happy tone, his fingers reaching to stroke your hair.
"Good girl, well done, hehe.," he grinned at you with a cheeky smile. "Are you okay?"
You nod, tired beyond belief.
"Do you hurt?"
"It hurts less now that it's out," you remark.
His face scrunches up a little, assuming that you had no enjoyment from what you two did together. What did he expect? It wasn't like you had a prostate like he did, so there wasn't much you could get from it. Fuck! He should've at least played with your clit, he thought.
"Tomura?" you question, noticing his disturbed face. "What's the matter?"
"You didn't like it, did you?" he assumed.
You paused, but confessed, "It was uncomfortable. I did feel a little pressure somewhere that felt sorta good, but it was hard to get through."
"I'm sorry. You, uh. You just felt great, ya know? It's like your entire body was meant for me. From your quirk to your pussy to..there, too."
You lit up with laughter and a relief shot through Tomura. "I am meant for you. I'm all yours, Tomura. That's why I wanted to do this. I wanted to make you feel good."
"Well, thank you," he chuckled. "Do you need a shower? Or like, I don't know, another orgasm? My fingers don't have a refractory period, thankfully. I want to take care of you."
"Do you really?"
"Yea. You were so good to me tonight, you deserve to be spoiled," he smiled, tapping on your nose with the pad of his finger. You scrunched your nose cutely and and giggled at him, making his heart flutter.
"I just want cuddles."
"Really? That's all?"
"Yea," you grinned, kissing his jaw. "Pleeasse?"
"You can have as many cuddles as you need, my evil princess," he says, knowing full well how cringe that pet name sounded. "You'll have to clean up a bit, though. Unless you want cum in your ass all night."
"Yea, that's probably not good."
"Come wash up with me? Then we can cuddle, kay?"
"Ehehe, yes, Tomura. I love you."
"I love you more."
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blitheringbongus · 4 months
Text
Cold Hands
(This is my first ever fic btw, also not to be an ao3 writer, but English isn’t my first language so if you see spelling errors or sentences seem shit then blame it on that because I refuse to admit to myself that that is just an honest mistake, also I wrote this all in one go at a Christmas party-)
Scar can’t stand the Nether.
He never has, especially not after the incident in season 7.
But nonetheless, he agreed to go gather resources in it with Mumbo.
The Builder was actually quite surprised when Mumbo first asked, „Whu- me?“ Scar pointed at himself, staring wide-eyed at the taller Redstoner before him.
Said Redstoner shifted his eyes, „Well- yes, you.“ Scar laughed, „You’re aware of who you’re talking to?“ Mumbo nodded, „Mumbo you know the Nether isn’t Scar-safe! I thought you’re smarter than this!“ Scar snickered, the taller shrugged, scratching the back of his neck, „That I do,“ „Then- why? I mean I’m happy to be spending time with you but- for this?“
Mumbo only shrugged again, before sighing, „Do you want to come along or not?“ Scar knew he wouldn’t get an answer, Mumbo’s been doing this a lot lately: invite him to random things and refuse to explain why.
Not that Scars complaining.
So the brunette simply grinned at the Spoon, „Of course I do,“
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Shortly after their little adventure started, Scar came to remember why he rarely visits the nether, aside from the creepy hogs and overall dangerous environment, the heat of it was monstrous.
He already shed his jacket, having wrapped it around his waist, rolling his sleeves up. He debated just completely shedding the shirt but the thought of doing that around Mumbo made him nervous, he doesn’t know why, he’s completely fine with doing it around literally anybody else, so why not him? Best not ponder it, that’s what Scars best at doing. (Aside from dying)
They went deep into the nether, digging tunnels and blowing up TnT in order to find ancient debree, they’d split half, Mumbo decided early on.
They talked about their builds and memories, past seasons and shared moments. They talked about pets and the nether, nature and flowers they enjoy. At some point the conversation shifted into a comfortable silence, both too tired and dehydrated from the scorching heat of the Nether, to talk about much else.
Scar eventually broke the silence, „I think we’re done for today,“ he wiped the sweat off his brow, only for more to form. „Yeah,“ Mumbo heaved, dusting his hands off on his suit pants before walking towards Scar, „Let’s go,“ „how much debree do you have?“ „Six pieces so far,“ „Sick,“ Scar put on that all too well known smug face of his, Mumbo sighed, huffing out a laugh, „Alright, alright, how much have you got then?“ „Seven,“ He said it almost in a whisper, grinning from ear to ear, mischief pinching at the corners of his eyes.
Mumbo delighted in Scars silly fey giggle, it was quieter than usual, but the circumstances explain themselves.
He huffed out a played out annoyed sound, lightly bumping Scars shoulder with his closed fist.
Scar kept giggling, just letting himself be led away by the former CEO of Boatem.
Lava lakes came and went. They passed raided fortresses, more lava lakes, more caves, more rocks, a soot biome, and even a warped forest! Scar insisted on getting some wood before they left, it’s always great for projects. Mumbo agreed, needing more himself.
After some time of venturing through the Nether, Mumbo came to a stop, looking around, suddenly confused,
Scar looked up at him, they were at the edge of another soot biome, „What’s up?“
Mumbo nervously laughed, „Aha, uhm- it appears that we’ve ah-„ he looked around, turning his body in the process, „-we might’ve lost our way, Scar-„
Scar just looked at Mumbo, and the soot splotches smeared on the mans forehead and right cheek, „Well that’s not good-„. Mumbo made a pained agreeing noise, „It sure isn’t!“
The brunette went up to the raven haired man, patting his shoulder, „it’s fineeeee-„ he drew out, worry bubbling in his own chest, he couldn’t spend another few hours in this heat, he’d surely have a heat stroke!
„We can ask for coordinates?“ Scar suggested, „Of the portal, I mean,“. The Redstoners eyes practically lit up, he grabbed Scars face excitedly, „Oh Scar you’re a genius! Why didn’t I think of that?“ he looked to the side thoughtfully, before taking his hands off of Scar and pulling out his communicator, typing away.
The moment Mumbos cold dead hands made contact with Scars scorching face, Scar was in heaven. He knew Mumbo was known to have cold hands, but that they stay cold? Under these conditions?
As soon as Mumbo put the communicator back in his pocket, Scar snatched the mans hands back, placing one long, elegant hand on his own forehead, and the other on the side of his own face, „Mumbo why didn’t you tell me about these miracle hands!“ He said, his words being slightly muffled by the man pushing Mumbos hand further against his cheek, squishing his lips vertically.
Mumbo stilled, wide-eyed and flabberghasted for a good amount of moments, before spluttering, „wh- huh- what?“ He didn’t make an attempt to move his hands.
„Your hands Mumby, how are they still so cold?“ Scar practically rubbed his face against the hands, they felt amazing in this heat,
Mumbo could only stare, „I- because-„ he opened and closed his mouth, knowing what to say but not sure if he should let Scar know.
Said Scar looked up at him, making a questioning face.
Mumbo pulled out his communicator, „Iskall answered,“ he began, telling Scar the coordinates, gently plucking his own hands off of Scars face, moving in the direction they need to go.
Scar whined and complained about being 'too hot' for approximately two minutes before Mumbo let him do whatever he wanted with his right hand.
They only had a few casualties, but made it home alive.
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abbyromanoff · 6 months
Note
Hey! If your requests are open maybe a Serial Killer! Agatha Harkness who falls for R 🙈
HOW TO GET AWAY WITH MURDER
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PAIRINGS: Agatha Harkness x reader
WORD COUNT: 2440
WARNINGS: veryyyyy dark fic, serial killer!agatha, mentions of smut, shower sex, mentions of cunnilingus, thigh riding, Agatha kinda has like BPD tbh, death, character death, angst, think that’s all :)
NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS YOUR OWN!!
This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to be roaming the Earth and she wasn’t meant to let that happen. You weren’t meant to lie in her bed, sleeping peacefully beside her after a night out. Your body was tangled in the sheet, your bare skin glowing under the bright light shining through the window. You looked entirely ethereal, but she couldn’t think that. No, not when you were meant to be dead. Not when you were meant to bleed out in her arms as she watched life slowly fade from your eyes. But there was so much behind them, how could she lose that?
“Good morning.” You turned on your side to face the older woman, greeting her with a small grin as she continued to stare into the ceiling. You joined her, trying to find what she was so enthralled by but coming up empty.
“What’s so interesting about the ceiling?” You chuckled, placing your elbow on the bed and leaning on your hand. Your arm loosely hung around the blanket over your chest, securing the fabric in place even though she had just seen your naked body only hours ago.
“Nothing, just thinking.” She turned to share a glance at you and couldn’t stop the smile wanting to form. She cleared her throat and turned back on her side, tossing the comforter off of her and quickly standing.
“I’m taking a shower. Join me if you’d like.”
Only moments later you were behind her under the cold water, your eyes trailing over her body. She had occasional wrinkles or cuts, but your gaze was stuck on one in particular.
“How’d you get that?” You pointed to the ripped skin with furrowed brows, her eyesight soon landing exactly where you wanted it. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing followed.
“Uhm, I, uh, I- I don’t know. Most likely from a drunken incident or something.” You nodded slowly, still unable to believe her words but choosing to act like you did. She let out a deep breath, one you didn’t know was full of relief.
You weren’t meant to be here. She wasn’t meant to be washing your back, listening to your moans as she massaged each tender muscle. She wasn’t meant to have confessed her feelings deep into the night, her lips landing on yours as she slowly removed your clothing. She wasn’t meant to love, especially not someone like you. Someone so innocent, so wholesome and pure, someone she could ruin.
She didn’t trust herself near you. She was scared her feelings would get in the way and she’d hurt you out of fear, causing you to either leave her or leave this Earth. But she wanted to be near you, she wanted to hold you in her arms while you’d wear a ring on your finger signaling your shared love. Why couldn’t she just be normal? Why was pain always in her mind? Why did she instantly dream about dragging her knife through any person that came near? Her breath warm against their freezing body that slowly turned the color of her bruises.
“Agatha? Hey, you okay?” You put your arms on her shoulders as she finally woke from her muse. She blinked twice before giving a fake smile, trying her best to calm your nerves but once again failing.
“You’ve been zoning off all morning, what’s going on?” You questioned with a soft tone, nearly sending her into a panic. Most would warm at heart, but she only found it worrying to love you. She knew she did, and that was the main problem. If she let you see the true side of her, how would you react?
“And please don’t deflect it because I know you will. Look, maybe it’s best if I head out and give you some space, yeah? So you can have some alone time to think.” She wanted you to leave, but she wanted you to stay. Everything was so conflicting. God, why did she have to love you? Why did you have to be so precious? And why did you have to have the most adorable face? And the body of a goddess, the eyes of Cupid, and a heart the size of hers, one where she could perfectly fit. Your hands interlaced as if they were meant to do so, as if the purpose of them ever being developed was so she could hold yours in hers someday. Your lips felt soft against hers, as if the lipstick you constantly wore was meant to stain her neck. Your body felt so warm, as if a reminder of the coldness that was her soul. Your skin was soft, as if the lotion you lathered on daily held the scent of her, leading you to become purely addicted.
“No. No, I- I don’t want you to leave.” She spoke, and you couldn’t see a single ounce of emotion hidden beneath her dark eyes. But somehow, that thought thrilled you. You wanted to get below that layer, you wanted to see the side of her you knew could come out.
“I want you to be sure of your answer, my love.” You felt the cold tiles collide with your back in a hurried motion. Her lips were instantly on yours, moving with a passion, and gracing you with the fragile texture of her skin. They were cracked, but it felt as though you were repairing them with the way you sunk into her. She pulled back when it became a struggle to breathe, panting before she eyed your neck. There were already hickeys covering every inch of your skin, but she wanted more. She wanted everyone to know you were taken, and she’d kill anyone who tried to show they didn’t believe that.
“I’m sure,” She started. “I’m sure, baby. I’m so fucking sure.”
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The water came to a stop as she guided you out of the shower, your legs shaky from your previous orgasm. You were still processing all that happened but she was ready for more, pushing you down on the hotel bed and climbing over you. You grinned softly and pulled her in for a small peck that quickly adjusted into a deep, meaningful kiss. You felt the water droplets dripping onto your skin and shivered. Her hands came to your waist as her fingernails drew lines against you. Her mouth came to your breasts as she suckled gently. Her knee found place between your legs as you instantly started a slow motion. Everything. She was doing everything possible. She knew how to make you fall apart and she was using that against you.
“So… good!” You let out through small pants, your chest heaving softly as her thumb came to your swollen clit. She rubbed small circles across the area gently, trying to ease you into your next release.
You shuddered, pulling her mouth away from your chest and looking deep into her eyes. The action made it seem as though there was more to this. You felt as though she just wanted your body, only being able to confess her love in a drunken slur while pressing herself deep into you. But this, this felt like it meant something. It seemed as though she was able to last a quick moment, allowing her feelings to step forward and take the lead, until she snapped. In an instant, you weren’t you. You were the man she killed only days ago. He was under her, bleeding out as she watched in amusement. He returned her look in horror, pleading for forgiveness with all of his will, insisting he had a family. But she didn’t care. She was a monster. She was as sick as a virus, spreading throughout your body until you became used to it. She didn’t want you to get used to this. This wasn’t fair. She wasn’t being fair to you.
“Hey, hey, look at me.” You sensed her still movements and shallow breaths, tears starting to prick at the side of her eyes. You pressed your hand against the back of her neck, giving her some sort of reassurance or reminder that you were still there. She could see you again, not him. But the love was no longer there. You were still once the man she killed for no reason besides the fact that she wanted to have fun. She was stressed, angry even. She wanted an escape and came to the only place she knew, that deep, dark section of her mind that held her fantasies. She blamed that part of her for the deaths of many, but she didn’t blame herself. She didn’t think it was right, but in those moments it seemed to take over her. She lost all control and gave in, letting her manic thoughts take action and cause blood behind every step she made.
“Agatha! It’s just me, alright? Breathe for me, love.” You guided her to lie down and tried mending to whatever it was she was feeling, but that side of her didn’t want you. Agatha wanted you, but her second wanted you dead. She couldn’t be near you and promise you’d be safe, she had to leave.
“Where are you going?” She refused to give a response, instead grabbing the tossed clothing on the ground and racing to get them on. The water adorning her skin made it more difficult, but she was persistent. Her legs moved faster than her mind when she ran to the door, leaving you sat on the bed with tears. You thought she left you for good this time, like she always does. You were flings beforehand, but you thought it would be different after her confession. But she was the same as always. Always running away from her problems instead of facing them. Only you didn’t know what she was running towards, and you definitely didn’t expect it to be the bodies that had been flooding the streets.
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Your phone rang violently and you took a moment before looking at the contact, rolling your eyes as you saw the name that greeted you. It was Agatha, she was most likely calling you in hopes you’d pick her up from the bar after another fight. You knew she had violent tendencies, but what could you do? You were only one human trying to get by, how could you handle another person to take care of?
“Please, I-I’m sorry,” You were both crying when the voice came through. You decided to take the call in fear she may be hurt, but it only hurt you more. She was hoping you’d pick her up, just like you guessed. Only this time she was hiding in an alleyway, a knife in her hand as a body laid next to her. The woman was dead with a written apology carved in her skin. It was only an ‘I’m sorry’, but it wasn’t meant for her, it was meant for you.
“I-I was scared, and- and I didn’t know what to do-“
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I’ll pick you up. Get warm, I’ll be there in twenty-ish minutes.” You hung up without a goodbye. You were truly sick of this. All you wanted was her but it seemed as though there was something else occupying her mind. You’d never be able to be a priority if she couldn’t even be in the same room as you for too long.
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She nearly cried with joy when seeing you, but her smile started to fade when she noticed you didn’t copy her. She gulped out of fear as you continued to drive without facing her once, you didn’t even notice her presence. Agatha started to truly believe she was a ghost, that she finally was paying for her crimes in the realm of death.
“Are you mad at me?” Silence.
“Y/N?” Silence.
“Please talk to me, baby. Please, I- I’m sorry, I really am.” Silence. Only a sniffle could be heard.
“I never wanted to upset you. I’m sorry…I mean it.” You gave a short nod, forcing her to take notice of the crack in her voice.
“We’re heading to the hotel, I’m leaving in the morning.” She sunk her head low and choked up a sob, knowing that if she let you leave tomorrow then that’d be the last time she’d ever see you. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye. She wasn’t going to say goodbye.
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You slept with your back facing her that night, listening to her tossing and turning before she tried to reach out for you. You ignored her, refusing to pay her any mind as you didn’t believe she deserved it. This was the last time, however, so you eventually gave in and let her place a singular arm around your waist. That alone was enough to calm her down and ease her racing mind.
And when she woke, her earlier thoughts returned. She didn’t know why, and she didn’t know how to turn it off. There wasn’t a switch, but if there was then someone else was controlling it.
She gazed over your sleeping body, tears softly rolling down her cheeks as she eyed the knife in hand. She ran it across your side, leading it to the place in which your heart was stored. Your broken heart.
“I’m sorry, my love, I’m so sorry.” The sharp object plunged into your body in a rush, your gasp being heard as you were instantly awoken. Now you were forced to stare into your lover's eyes as she drove the knife deeper inside of you. You were supposed to go instantly, but she must’ve hit the wrong spot as you had a minute to suffer until the life inside of you completely faded.
“A-Agatha?” She squeezed her eyes shut before the knife was finally removed, only to quickly be joined by her own blood. She shared your reaction and gasped, looking down to where her weapon was lodged in her stomach. She wouldn’t die quicker than you, but she believed she deserved to watch you die as she bled out. This was her fault, just like everything else was.
“W-we’ll…we’ll be together again s-soon, I promise.” Her life was taken soon after yours. She laid next to you in her final moments, taking your warm hand that would soon turn cold in her hold. She tried to have a firm grip, but that soon became too difficult for her to withstand.
She’d see you in another life, whether she was meant for hell and you were destined for heaven, she’d find a way to be with you.
She always did…
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beasblogsposts · 1 month
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a/n: hi! This is the first fanfic i've written for this fandom. An avid fanfic reader and marvel fanatic but I haven't written anything like this so...bare that in mind. I posted an idea idea for a Wandanat x reader fic where during an intel mission, the couple find you, a hydra prisoner left behind. After rescuing you and moving you into the compound, feelings between you and the couple emerge. However, considering the age gap (Legal, r is 21,) your past, and the circumstances in which you met, the two redheads are hesitant to start anything. will be kind of a slow burn, hella angst but ofc some fluff and (probably badly written) smut throughout. but this is the first chapter! any comments/feedback/ improvements are welcomed in the comments. Enjoy! - bea
word count: 1654
What they found Ch1
‘The parameters are clear, Mr Smash is currently clearing the rest of the guards. Romanoff, you sweep the first floor, Witchy can you cover upstairs?’ Tony calls through the comms, flying around the outside of the castle-like walls of the latest Hydra base being taken down.
‘Got it Stark, Natty be caref- I mean Natasha, A-agent Romanoff’
There are several chuckles heard through the earpiece before Clint breaks the tension ‘Easy, Red. You and our dear assassin here have been sharing a bedroom long enough, you don’t need to hide your cutesy nicknames from us’
‘Yeah as long as you’re not opposed to us teasing you about it’ Tony finishes off, landing on the top floor of the building.
’That’s enough you two. Any more teasing and you’re both gonna be on the receiving end of my widow bites once we get back to the quinjet. Wanda just ignore them…Wands?’
Natasha repeats after receiving no response from her girlfriend within a few minutes. Natasha takes this as a cue to start making her way up the stairs towards the floor Wanda was supposed to be on, figuring her beloved witch was distracted by a few stray guards.
Wanda, however, was currently facing a… less threatening but undeniably more daunting situation than Hydra agents. Her palms clenched to prevent any more red mist escaping them, as she took tentative steps towards a seemingly empty cell.
She could hear soft, almost inaudible pants coming from the corner, as she took a step closer, a small, hunched figure twitched slightly, pressing themselves against the wall of the cell. Wanda took this as her cue to crouch down to her knees, taking on a more relaxed approach.
As she shuffled closer, she noticed a small, pale frame draped in a tight but battered suit, hair covering their face. The figure almost looked like a child, but looking at the frame and curves, she had to assume it was a small adult.
‘H-hey…I didn’t mean to startle you. My names Wanda…I-im here to, to help?’
There is a drawn silence as the figure sits up slightly, back resting against the wall with a pained huff.
‘Are you? You don’t seem too sure about that…’ Teased the voice. A woman.
Wanda looked up slightly, seeing blue eyes peering at her through a curtain of floppy hair covered in gravel and a red tint that Wanda was praying wasn’t blood but…didn’t want to think about it too long.
‘Yes.’ Wanda finally found her voice, speaking more confidently. ‘I’m here to help you, we just thought this building no longer held…prisoners.’ She trailed off at the last part.
‘What happened to baldy and face tat?’ The voice asks in a husky tone, reaching a bloodied arm up to her face to rub some grime from the side of her face.
At Wanda’s bewildered expression the woman continues
‘The guards…it was always the same two. Never gave names so I made my own.’
‘O-oh they uhm…took a long walk off a short…hillside’ The witch responded, wringing her hands together.
This earned a slight snicker from the woman in the cell.
‘So it’s true then. You’re one of those revengers Strucker has been yammering about?’
The Witch returned a slight nod ‘Well… A-venger, but, yes, I am, we actual-‘
‘Wanda! For christ sakes I’ve been yelling your name through the comms for the last ten minutes, you know how many stairs I had to climb just to find you sitting here!’ A gravelly voice called from down the hallway. Wanda immediately recognised the teasing reprimand from her girlfriend and turned to greet her, as she did, the figure suddenly shrunk into the far corner of the cell, away from the harsh voice she could hear approaching.
Just as Natasha reached her girlfriend and the entrance to the cell, Wanda held out a hand to her chest, pausing her movements ‘Natasha…lower your voice’ She whispered as she glanced to the growing ball of nervousness currently hunched in the corner.
Natasha’s expression became confused as she followed the line of sight into the cell and frowned ‘b-but stark said this place no longer held captives, that we just needed to grab left over intel and leave.’ The spy whispered as she peered further into the cell’
‘A young woman…seemed familiar with the place enough to suggest she’s been here for a while. I was just introducing myself when you found me, she’s not hostile’ The witch confirmed as she looked back at the woman who was now eyeing Natasha with an unreadable expression, her mouth slightly agape.
‘You’re, the black widow…’ she whispered as she leant forward slightly, just within an arms’ length of the couple.
Natasha tentatively nodded, undecided as to whether it was a good or bad thing that the woman knew her name.
‘I am, but I prefer Natasha when I’m not fighting, and you are…’ She asked with a softer tone than the one she had entered with, taking Wanda’s hand in hers and squeezing it gently, only now processing her relief that the witch wasn’t in danger like she had originally thought.
‘Y/n, but you can call me 308 if you like, that’s all I’ve been referred to for as long as I can remember’ You reply, looking down at the metal cuffs gripping your wrists, you originally had a badge with your number on it sewn into your suit but, it had worn off eventually.
‘Y/n is fine with us… we don’t believe in referring to living people as numbers.’ Wanda replied, offering Nat a knowing look before returning her attention back to you. ‘And how old are you?’ she probed further, taking the chance to get as much information as you were willing to give them.
‘What year is it?’
‘2024’ one of them responded, though you weren’t sure which as your eyes were focussed on the ground in front of you’
‘Well they brought me here in 2019, I was 15 so…I guess that means I’m 21’ You reply nonchalantly, when they don’t say anything in response, you add on ‘they mention your age a lot at first, for updating their files. Once you have your ID number, I guess no other digits are important anymore.’
‘Well, they’re important to us’ Wanda starts before pausing, lifting a hand to the earpiece nestled beneath strands of auburn hair, listening intently for a moment before looking back to you ‘And our team is here also, we weren’t aware there was anyone to save but… we can take you with us now.’ She said confidently with a soft smile gracing her lips.
‘Take me with you? Like…to the outside?’ You ask shakily as your brain struggles to determine if this is real or some deranged illusion your subconscious had formed as distraction.
‘Yes. We have a quintet-‘ You raised an eyebrow ‘a plane. We have a plane to take us and the rest of the team back to our compound, we will take you with us, nobody is trapping you here anymore.’ The woman took another step, now entering your cell and seemed to evaluate your body, you shrunk under her piercing green eyes, feeling vulnerable and ashamed of what had become of you.
‘Well I guess I don’t have much of a choice…though I haven’t taken a step in…well a little while, so there’s not much chance of me walking with you to this plane you have’ You admit quietly after a few moments.
Wanda knelt down, only inches from you this time, and slowly reached an arm out to you ‘That’s okay, I can get those cuffs off and carry you there, if that’s alright?’ She offered with a gentle tone, her hand emitting a Scarlett haze that soon popped the cuffs from your wrists, leaving them to clatter to the floor.
You winced slightly at the reddened rings now embedded into your skin, wiggling your wrists to gain some feeling back into them. You reached out and slid your palm into her awaiting one, weakly grasping her fingers as silent permission to touch you.
Natasha held open the cell door as the witch carefully lifted you into her arms and an inviting vanilla scent filled your nostrils. The two avengers walked silently down the hall and towards the main door. You could see a bright light only a few feet away, when she stepped out into it, the light hit your eyes and despite your squinting, shot a throbbing pain into your retina’s. Feeling you tense, Wanda glanced down and to see what was troubling you.
‘You can lean your head on my chest, turning your face towards me will help block the light a little more until we are on the jet.’
You didn’t question her words further, needing to get the pain to stop as quickly as possible, you wound your arms around her neck and nestled your face into the crook of her neck. Sighing with relief at the darkness it offered you.
Eventually, the pair reached the jet, Wanda still holding your body as she shook her head, a silent message to stop the questions on the tip of her teammates tongues as she wordlessly leaned down to place you on the bed at the back of the jet. Just as she was about to inform you that they were taking off, she felt soft, steady breaths hitting the side of her neck, you had fallen asleep in her arms.
Gently, Wanda placed you on the bed and removed her arms from beneath your body. Bringing a sheet over you and returning to Natasha in the chairs upfront. Her girlfriend turned to her with a saddened look ‘so, what now?’ The spy asked, lacing their hands together.
‘Now, we get her back to the compound and give her the help we fought so hard for…’
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mikalame · 8 months
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hiya!!! could you write a really sweet fic (story) about y/n and Bill getting a huge matching tattoo together and Bill being asked about this tattoo on an interview and he just gets really shy etc (could you make the reader female and a singer) please ?
bye :D
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"Are you sure you want to do this meine leibe, this is gonna take a couple hours, and will hurt a bit being where it is" Bill asks, eyes searching your face for any sign you may not feel 100% about this, exspechily because its a tattoo that will be on you forever.
"Yes im sure Bill, I've researched and all plus ill ask for some numbing cream, are you okay bill" You ask thinking that the reason he keeps asking you if your okay is becasue he isn't.
"Of course, i cant wait" he says kissing your cheek giving you tight hug and pushing open the tattoo shop's door.
Time skip
"how are you feeling hun, you in any serious pain" Bill asks eyes scanning over you again looking down at you, eyebrows pinched.
"Im fine Billl" you whine playfulling pushing him away giggling.
You two smile at eachother and walk to your car you look at your forearm and the tattoo placed on it, the phantom pain of it comeig back to you but the pride and meaning of it over powers it.
Time skip again
"SO WELCOME..... TOKIO HOTEL!" the interveiwer yells at the camera, the crowd behind it full on fangirls and boys yell in exsitement waving their banners and posters around hoping to catch one of the band members attention.
As the band walks on the stage single file line they wave at the fans, the majority of them smiling wider and yelling louder, while the crazy super fans faint or start yelling not so innocent things (i dont blame them ahaha)
"Hello we are so happy to be on the show with you today" Bill says taking the mircophone from the interviewer so the audiance could hear them clearly.
"Well im glad, so today we have a couple questions to ask you, if thats all right with you all" She says looking over the band and seeing their nodding heads.
"Okay, great sooo the first question is from.... Marie asking if any of you have any big regrets in you career". She cocks an eyebrow then looks at the band, a smile on her face.
"Oh well uhm probably styling my hair with CANS of hairspray, kinda wish i just wore a wig but oh well" Bill says shrugging passing the mircophone along.
"Oh hahaha, Okay next question" She says smile dropping as she reads the next couple of questions out.
"Oooo okay this one is for Bill , aparently you were seen with ___ going into a tattoo parlor, do you care to show us what you got" she asks smirk stretching on her face.
"Oh, uhm no sorry" Bill says shaking his head in disagreement, but the interviwer just keeps on begging.
After a while it really started to get on him nerves, more so when she brought the audiance in on it as well, but bill just kept on saying no, blushing hinding if face.
The tattoo was very important to bill and he didnt feel like it should be made public like this, exspeachily when it had such a deep meaning for bill and ___.
"Oh, well sorry ladys and gentlemen thats all the time we have today, sorry i coldn't make bill show the new tattoo but mabey next time" she say fake smile still prominent on her face.
As the band walks of the stage fareing their good byes bill mutters under his voice.
"There wont be a 'next time'".
They all groan as they sit down in the tour bus, tom cracking his back as well as gustav. "She was real adamant on getting the tattoo shown" Georg laughs opening a bag of chips sitting down across from the boy.
"Yeah she need to learn to take no for an answer, she must be a real treat in bed" tom laughs sarcastically behind the two.
"mmh" bill agrees putting his headphones in listening to a song ___ and him made when he was staying at her house one of the first times they met thinking about calling her when they head off to check up on her.
SORRY GUYS I DIDNT KNOW HOW TO END IT 😭.
taglist @oppopotamus @violentnewmarley @saumspam @adissonsss
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rickgrimeswifey · 1 year
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Overheard gossip - Spencer Reid
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A/n: When I post this I am an official Spencer Reid slut as this is my first ever written fic about him... part 2 here
Category: Blurb
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader
Season: 3 
Warnings: Sexual themes, THE EMBARRASSMENT GIRL... I-
Word count: 0.6k
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It was around 1PM, the team was out on a case somewhere in Florida and Penelope was in her room working as usual. Y/n that also was a part of the team didn’t go along for the case, Hotch had told her to stay here since she had been going through some stuff recently. It wasn’t anything too devastating, Y/n was just on edge because her patience and brain wasn’t at their best state. Hotch found her too unstable to go along and investigate this serial killer. This job had drained her and she just needed some time away, at first Y/n was mad at Hotch’s decision but she realizes he just does it out of worry.
Y/n had finished her paperwork and went out to buy some lunch for her and Penelope. Something easy and that’s fast to finish eating. She skipped knocking on Garcias door before entering, she was sitting quietly in her seat searching for something through her computer. Y/n adored the work she did, no one could compare to their Penny.
“I got us something to eat for lunch.” She smiled looking at Penelope who turned to look at her.
“Well aren’t you a dear…” Penelope smiled, not taking her eyes off the screen longer than necessary.
Y/n got a chair to sit on at her friends desk before she spoke up again;
“You know I’ve been thinking about something.” She confessed as she opened up the bags with food and began placing it out on the table in front of her.
“What is that?” Penelope mumbled lost in her work, she was clearly doing something important.
“Have you ever thought about Spencer’s sexlife? I mean for a genius I bet he’d be extremely skilled at eating a girl out, I mean that he’d be a natural or more like supernatural. Or like that his dick would be huge.” Y/n said casually with a smirk on her face before dramatizing the last word.
When she had finished packing up the food she looked at Penelope who was staring at her with her mouth agape, there was something in her eyes. Y/n didn’t know what it was but it looked like panic. Why would she panic by what she’d just said? Y/n was almost positive that Garcia would’ve been someone who agreed with her.
“Are you still there Reid…?” Penelope asked nervously, making Y/n widen her eyes so much that she was afraid they’d pop out of her skull.
There was a cough heard on the phone line before Spencer's almost shaky voice was heard. “Y-Yeah… I’m still h-here Garcia.”
Y/n gasped covering her face with her hands. She felt like she’d die out of embarrassment, had Spencer just heard her say all of those things?
“I found some people that worked at graveyards but were fired in the past five years…” Penelope spoke up after a long painful minute of silence.
“Great! Uhm I’ll call you if I need anything else… b-bye.” Spencer’s voice cracked before he quickly hung up.
Y/n removed her hands from her head and looked Penelope in the eyes. It didn’t take more than a couple of seconds for her to burst out laughing. Y/n frowned while blushing like crazy at Garcias action.
“It’s really not funny at all, I’m never going back to work after this!” She remarked, wanting to sink into the ground and never come back up.
“Well, Y/n L/n you gotta learn to keep your mouth shut when you see that I’m working then.” Penelope laughed like crazy while wiping tears from her eyes.
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the-roo-too · 10 months
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free fall -> spiderwoman! mo jihye
-the biggest downside of working as a reporter is definitely the field work
warnings: injuries
genre: sprinkle of angst?; it’s mostly fluff tho
notes: spiderwoman danielle would be so 🫶🫶 this was kinda made in honour of spider!jimin fic getting 150 notes 💪
˚₊𖠌༺ 🕷️༻𖠌₊˚
when you first became a reporter for the local newspaper, you had very light tasks to do. take a picture of the school’s swimming team, see the christmas lights, do some photos on the fair. then, the villains appeared. your peaceful job suddenly turned into the most dangerous one, albeit very interesting. now, you always had to be there with the villains, so you could have material before other reporters.
just like now, someone evil attacked the main street, so you of course had to be there. it was some green guy, green goblin if you remembered the last article correctly.
click!
you sighed as you took the photo of the villain. it came out a bit blurry, but it was still a good shot. as you looked up from your hide (so technically you leaned over some café’s menu sign), you noticed a familiar red and blue blur.
spiderwoman. always on the spot.
“they should pay me more for the heroes.” you grumbled under your breath, reading the camera to take a shot of the mysterious superhero. just as you did that, something exploded near you. the force of the explosion made you fly away from your safe spot and as you hit your head on the floor, you heard the sound of glass breaking and everything went dark.
˚₊𖠌༺ 🕷️༻𖠌₊˚
you slipped in and out of consciousness, seeing the colourful blurs zoom past you. it felt like you couldn’t move, so you just laid there, trying to make out the shapes around you. a small thought lingered in the back of your mind.
is this the end?
then, by some miracle, the gods decided to spare you. just as your eyes were closing, you felt strong arms slowly lift you up bridal style.
you let out a groan of pain and your saviour hummed quietly.
“it’s okay… you’re safe with me..”
˚₊𖠌༺ 🕷️༻𖠌₊˚
a chain of curses woke you up. for a short second, you couldn’t remember anything, till the memories flooded your mind again.
you quickly opened your eyes, frowning when you noticed you were suddenly home. that ceiling was definitely yours, you’d recognise that stupid stickers anywhere.
then, the pain hit you like a truck. you winced, bringing your hand up to touch your wounded head. just then, a figure walked into your room.
“who hides their first aid kit so hard-“ the voice stopped as the figure noticed you’re awake. you immediately recognised the suit, but your eyes widened when you saw the superhero wasn’t wearing her mask.
her face was also enveloped in shock, as you could only blur out one thing.
“..danielle?”
˚₊𖠌༺ 🕷️༻𖠌₊˚
“sorry..” she muttered as you winced, feeling the cotton pad press against your wound. “there’s usually no civilians… i should’ve been more careful.”
“don’t worry, danielle..” it felt weird, looking at one of the most famous heroes now and seeing your neighbour’s face. “it’s my job, you couldn’t know anyone would be stupid enough to come so close.”
with a deflated sigh, danielle lowered the hand that was holding the cotton pad. “you’re a reporter… are you gonna tell, uhm..” she awkwardly gestured to herself and the spiderwoman’s mask lying on your nightstand.
“no, of course not.”
“really?”you nodded your head softly, making her smile.
“i would’ve never though that my neighbour would be the famous spiderwoman…” you chuckled slightly. “guess you’re really ‘friendly neighbourhood spiderwoman’ huh?”
she laughed a bit. “yeah, guess you could say that.” danielle then cleared her throat. “so um… do you maybe wanna get a coffee after this? maybe tomorrow, my treat?”
“me?”
“well, i think you’re very pretty! and i kinda owe you for that camera you broke…”
“no, no you don’t owe- MY CAMERA BROKE?!”
˚₊𖠌༺ 🕷️༻𖠌₊˚
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Note
Hurt/comfort fic about villain flinching to hero cuz villain got tortured by like the super villain who shapeshifted into hero to torture her?
The villain’s heart rate skyrocketed immediately, organs burning inside their chest until their whole body was shaking. Fight or flight kicked in but they were at a point where fight just wasn’t possible anymore.
“Hey, it’s me,” the hero said. “It’s over, remember?”
Carefully, they held up their hand and took a few steps back. It hadn’t been this bad for a long time and the hero seemed to be frustrated. Even though the villain knew they needed care, they were questioning if this was the right caretaker. They wanted to avoid the hero at all costs but truly, they didn’t have anyone else and even if they had, they needed to get over this phobia, needed to heal.
“That’s what they said, too.”
“They don’t know you’re here.”
“What if you’re impersonating them again? What if you’re tricking me again?” The villain’s voice quivered. It was driving them insane. They were mad at the hero but then again, not really. The supervillain had created this phobia, this terrible anxiety.
It tore them apart and left nothing but pain. The villain gasped for air and their hand wandered to their chest as they tried to calm themselves down.
“I can go,” the hero said softly. “I can go away if you want to. I just wanted to bring you some food.”
They put down the bowl on the table.
“Take the time you need. I can arrange something else. This was just temporary anyway and I understand if you want someone else to take care of you.”
“I…I don’t know.” The villain couldn’t breathe. Oh god, they were gonna die. They felt it in their chest, felt it in their heart.
Focusing was impossible, thinking even more so. They were gonna die, god, if the hero took another step towards them they were gonna die.
The villain stared at the bowl as their breathing got quicker and quicker. Every breath hurt more than the one before.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” The hero stayed where they were but they raised their voice. It made everything worse.
“I— I don’t know, I…”
“Are you having a panic attack?” The hero asked and their voice was softer this time. They took a step forward and the villain took one back. It hurt, everything hurt. “I’m sorry, okay, uhm…”
“Oh god,” the villain said. They tried to breathe but couldn’t.
“Okay, listen. Five things you can see?”
“Bowl…table, fuck…I can’t.” It didn’t work. Things like that didn’t work for the villain.
“Deep breaths, alright? Count back from 1,000 but like this: 996, 992…”
“987– no, 988, uhm…984…” The villain counted, concentrated on the numbers instead of their surroundings. It was easier to lose themselves in potential rooms of figures instead of a real one, filled with real stuff. They managed to calm down, slowly.
“You okay?”
“Yeah…” The villain looked at them, looked at the face that had tortured for months. They were still out of breath but somehow, they managed to come back to reality. Flashbacks of the hero hitting them, torturing them were only fuel for their nightmares but a panic attack like this brought everything back just the same.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have expected you to recover here with me, I…I was selfish. I wanted you to be close to me,” the hero said. “I’m gonna ask a friend of mine to take care of you.”
“I can deal with this. I have to.” The villain sat down on the bed the hero had given them. With their fingers, they went through messy hair. “I can’t ignore you forever. I have to learn how to spot the difference between you and them. I can’t just…give up.”
“It’s not about giving up. It’s about your own safety. And to ensure that, I have to go.” The hero looked like they were about to cry. “I…don’t want you to suffer. I’ll be gone in the morning, I promise.”
Before the hero walked out of the door, they turned around and the villain realised that they were, in fact, close to tears.
“You mean a lot to me, you know? That’s why I saved you…I’m still really sorry about what happened. You didn’t deserve it.”
They didn’t see each other for years after that.
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futbol16 · 1 year
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I Can’t Reach!  • Alexia Putellas
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Decided to add a bit of another request wanting a goofball reader, hope it still turned out okay though!
Request: “Hi! Love your fics! If you are taking any requests, would you possibly be able to do one where reader plays for Barca, her and Alexia are together, but at a training session as Alexia is still not training directly with the team yet, Reader gets injured during training and Alexia doesn’t find out until later on? Like she panics because she can’t find reader until one of their barca teammates notifies her. Just randomly thought of this haha.”
Word count: 1k
“Your rehab is going well Alexia.” The physio commented with a kind smile. Alexia smiled back at him, her good leg swinging back and forth as it dangled off the side of the medical table. “You excited to see Y/N, huh?” 
The physio chuckled at the light blush coating the player’s face, shaking his head in amusement.
“So, can I go doc?” she asked, already moving to her feet and grabbing her bottle.
“Yeah, yeah see you tomorrow Alexia!” he waved her off and she barely muttered a bye before she was out the door in search of you.
Although you had arrived at the training facility  an hour before her, your training was only supposed to end now meaning that by the time Alexia would make her way down to the changing room, you’d already be ready to go.
As she walks down the hallway she notes the quietness with a furrow of her eyebrows, it was never this quiet. You and Patri would usually fool around with Mapi and she’d often have to pull the three of you back to the locker room to stop you from running around. She shrugs though, training was more intense this week due to the ElClásico match coming up. The three of you were probably just too tired to be causing chaos today.
With that thought she opens the door of the changing room with a smile only to find the whole team staring back at her, everyone except you.
“Where’s Y/N?”
“You’re not even gonna greet us?” Mapi teases with a raise of her eyebrow as she swings an arm over the brunette’s shoulder. Alexia only rolls her eyes at her words.
Nevertheless, she sits down for a second asking how training had gone. The showers were still running so it was rational for her to think that’s where you were.
“..And then we did a crossbar challenge too! I totally won that one!” Bruna rambles on and Alexia smiles sweetly at the girl, though she can’t help but glance towards the shower doors.
“Oh and Y/N was super good with the other one, you know the one where you really really have to curve the ball? Sandra couldn’t save any of hers!” Jana comments with a glint in her eyes, she had always looked up to you. Alexia clears her throat now as Nuria walks out of the showers.
“So where is she?”
“Uhm she got tackled and fell wrong. Patri took her to one of the physios.” the girl shrugs, though a moment later gets startled as Alexia jumps out of her seat.
“What?! And you didn’t think to tell me when I first asked!” worry is written all over her face and the girls don’t even get to say another word as she moves out of the locker room as quickly as she could. 
She gets so lost in her thoughts about you possibly having a serious injury that it takes way too long for her to get to the physios room. She’s sure she has walked down five different hallways and discovered two other ones by the time she finally knocks on the right door. 
“Come on in!” a voice calls from inside and she pokes her head in, as her eyes land on your back she opens the door wider and walks right over to you.
“Ale, hola amor!” your cheerful tone eases her concern for a second, but as she notices the blue tape on your shoulder, the panic is back.
“What happened? Did you break something? Are you okay?” she’s frantic, her eyes scanning over your whole body and the physio, who’s putting the tape away, chuckles at her.
“I’m fine, just fell.” you shrug instantly regretting it as you wince in pain. 
“On your shoulder?!”
“Yeah?” you look up at her, your left arm moving around her waist to pull her closer.
“Does it hurt too much?” she’s still distressed as she cups your cheek, her face softening as you lean into the touch.
“I’ll be fine, doc said I could still play against Real Madrid.” you inform her and squeeze her waist as she finally relaxes. She’s about to lean down when the door gets slammed open.
“Y/N/N I’M BACK!” Patri jogs through the door, interrupting the moment. “They only had strawberry ones...I might have taken the last cola flavored one.” she tells you sheepishly, a lollipop hanging out of her mouth as she approaches you and hands you the one in her hand. Alexia looks at the two of you with a confused smile.
“What? Doc said I could have one, right doc?” you turn towards the physio.
“Yes, not you though Patri.” she lightheartedly scolds the young girl who only grins back.
“See? Now come on bebé I wanna go home.” You pull her with you as you get up from your sitting position.
“Y/N! Shirt!” she calls after you, your jersey in her hand. You walk back towards her and as you reach for it she holds it high in the air.
“Oh come on Ale, I can’t reach!” you gesture to your shoulder.
“You’re blaming it on that now?” she mocks you with a smile.
“Yeah, just admit you’re short!” Patri says from behind her and you shoot her a glare, the girl raising her hands innocently.
You focus your attention back on your girlfriend and lean up to press a slow kiss to her lips. She melts into it and you take her momentary distraction as your chance. She doesn’t even notice you’ve already taken the shirt from her until you’re giggling at her as you back away. 
“You’re gonna be the death of me.” she shakes her head with a fond smile gracing her lips.
“Let’s hope not.”
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satanlikesmyfics · 2 months
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House of Balloons
a rather short fic inspired by the song 'House Of Balloons' by the weeknd, modern au
ellie x stalker!reader
an: HEAVILY inspired by a post by @elliezlils11utt
contains: drink spiking, stalker behavior
words: 850
you enter your room, locking the door behind you. you live alone, across from ellie williams. since she had noticed ellie and started watching her, she had been on another level. through your window you can see her taking out the trash and throwing it in the bin. you fantasize about her pulling your hair and grabbing you that way...
you grab your diary and write your entry about what ellie does in her daily life, gathering information and her routine to make her like you more when you're finally able to gather the courage to go talk to her. with a black pen, you write in your unsteady handwriting:
'20:58, 19th of February 2024'
'ellie brings out the trash in a black sack, throws it in the green bin outside her house. tommorow is trash day, so she perfectly timed it, like the perfect ellie she is.. after she went inside, she turned on purple leds in her room, turning off the rest or her lights. -> gets ready for bed at 21:00.'
since you've been watching and documentimg everything around her, it's like you finally have a purpose in life, since she came, no more pain. you're very very determined to talk to her soon, because tomorrow she goes for her weekly grocery shopping at the local store. you get your outfit and jewelry perfectly ready to impress.
*next morning*
you get up, get dressed and ready to go out. you make sure to brush your teeth untill they're perfectly white and spray some perfume on. you drive your bmw to the store approximately 15 minutes before ellie usually arrives. you go inside with your shopping cart and wait around the meat isle where ellie loves to buy her favorite chicken and eat it the same night, she loves chicken so much. while you pull out your phone, you hear a second cart roll behind you, towards the chicken. you whip around and there she is.
ellie.
finally you get so see her up close.. you have to remember to write down where her freckles are. you look into her eyes.. they're pale green and you notice a small scar on her right eyebrow.
"uhm.. do I know you? I can't recognize your face.."
"oh hahaha!! I'm uh.. your next door neighbor.. the blue house?"
you see her eyes light up as she remembers the house. she says she's never seen you before and you're fairly with inviting her over for dinner to 'get to know each other'. she agrees and you give her your phone number. she texts you a "hi!" and you favoritize it immediately. I mean.. it's fucking ellie??
later that night, as you finish packing up your groceries into the fridge and cabinet, you take a shower after your bit of time watching ellie. right when you get out, you hear the doorbell ring and groan in annoyance. you throw on your robe and head downstairs.
you open the door and.. oh shit.. oh fuck.. it's ellie. your face reddens immediately with embarassement. "oh uh.. I see you're a bit busy? should I come over another time or..?"
"no. well I mean, you can just wait down here, I won't be too long haha."
you hand her the tea already on the counter, you initially had made it for yourself. lucky enough, there was some ketamine by the counter you were gonna use to spike her drink. you just didn't expect to see her so soon. you sprinkle the powder into her drink and hope she doesn't notice.
"oh yeah.. sure I'll be waiting"
you practically run upstairs after leading her to the sofa and shutting the door. you get dressed in your Rory Gilmore sweater and some loose-ish jeans. while you run back downstairs though, you notice your diary about ellie lying open in the kitchen table and ellie standing in front of the door with her shoes on, with a blank stare towards the locked door.
"did you..?"
"yes. yes I fucking did. let me the fuck out. now."
you feel your whole personality switch.
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Ellie."
she turns around, scared and confused.
"you're in my world now.."
she frantically tries to open the door by jamming at the door handle.
"no no ellie.. you can stay.. you can stay."
you look at her with sorry eyes, sorry for what she will have to experience now, as the price for looking through her things.
"it shouldn't have gone this way els.."
the nickname made her visibly shiver and you can feel her must wanting to cower into a ball on the floor. only her closest friends would call her that. but of course, you had picked up on that already.
"you shouldn't have been so nosy the first time over. god, the hopes I had for us. you disappoint me."
she feels the effects of the ketamine you gave her earlier just hitting at the right moment.
"oh sweet els.. whatever happens I hope you can remember that you belong to me."
"what..?"
"you belong to me."
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tellodona · 3 months
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Imagine the brothers with and mc who's comfortable sitting in the most random positions ever. Like sitting upside down on the couch, curled up really tightly on a chair- do you vision what I'm visioning?? Yeah anyways I feel like demons aren't as flexible has humans and so they'd just be really freaking confused like how??
I thought of this really randomly so yk hopenhave fun with it!! <3
- Sky
i've always had this headcanon after seeing a fic about it ! where the demons and angels aren't as flexible as humans
time to traumatize some demons
the brothers when mc sits in a bone-cracking (for them) position
heads up: gn!mc
lucifer
the both of you were hanging out in his study whilst he works
he excuses himself to get a glass of water
leaves you sitting upside down on one of the sofas, your legs up and your head dangling over at the edge, but he didn't think much of it at first
he comes back to see you bending over the sofa's backrest, your upper body behind it and your lower body facing him
he pales
slightly maybe
he places down the glass on the coffee table, and walked around the sofa, and you tilt your head up at him
"oh, hey lucifer"
mc?????????
you didn't look like you were in any pain, but still
he left you alone and just sat and worked again on his desk, sparing you a glance every now and then
you were trying out more positions that he's trying so hard to fight a grimace
he swears he feels a phantom ache somewhere on his back
mammon
the both of you were in his room (he dragged you there as soon as you got changed when you got home from rad)
you were laying on his couch, him sitting there too, and your legs over his lap
both of you were on your phones
the more focused on your phone you were, your legs somehow get raised into the air
he doesn't even notice it either
it was then ten minutes later he realizes the weight on his lap was gone, so he turns to his right to see you still there
but your legs bent all the way to your head
he jaw drops
he pulls at your legs, pulling them down back on his lap
"what the hell do you think you were doin', huh?!"
you don't even know
you just stare at each other
leviathan
listen, i know, we're going to be expecting you and levi to be playing games, don't come at me
anyway
you were sitting on the floor with him in front of his monitor, playing god knows what (you didn't understand him because he said the name too quickly)
you were sitting in indian seat, which didn't set any alarms in his head at first, since he's sitting like that too
but then you did this pose to get a good look at the monitor
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i legit don't know how to describe it, so google came in clutch
levi looked at you with a grimace and worry
"mc... is that comfortable? or..."
you sit up straight and put your attention to him
"is what comfortable?"
he never got to answer because his character died
satan
he invited you to his room to show you books he recently bought
you were interested in one of the genres, and he pointed out a stack somewhere with the same ones
you went over and looked over the titles and found the one at the bottom sounding interesting
you did a split to slide to the bottom to get it
satan GAPED
and when you stood up just as casually he stared at you with his jaw still open
"uhm. there's a fly going inside your mouth"
"oh"
asmodeus
he read something about yoga in an article from the human world
so he's been curious about it so he asked you to show him what it is
he asked for something that doesn't need standing too much, and you coincidentally was already sitting on his bed
so you delivered
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this pose
he gasped
"m- mc, dear! you're breaking your bones!"
"...but you were asking about yoga poses..."
"i will never ask again! sit up straight! sit properly! hurry! your beautiful legs!"
beelzebub
you both were exercising
but then you had to tie your shoe
he was about to offer to tie them for you, but then you sat down and bent all the way down to reach your shoes
he was horrified
"mc!!!!!"
he picks you up and straightens your body out
"mc! y- you could've broken your bones! are you okay????"
"i was just tying my shoe..."
yeah he'll be carrying you home on his shoulder
belphegor
you were sleeping in the attic
he had to go back to his room to get his favorite pillow
when he returns, he sees your body twisted around
his jaw drops 2.0
he approaches you, hovering his hands over your body, unsure of what to do
you didn't look like you were in any discomfort, but then again, you were asleep...
but then you moved on your own to sleep on your side, your body not horrifically twisted
he's still unsure
he just cuddles into you, subtly feeling for any broken bones and just sleeps on his worries
(he forgot humans were flexible)
I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I WAS SO BUSY
i'm also sorry this is bland af......
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