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incognit0slut · 7 months

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MASTER OF PERSUASION

Part 4 of kinktober | main masterlist

meandom!Spencer/Hotch x fem!reader; Threesome, creampie, dumbification, degradation, brat taming, abuse of power, edging, dubcon

Your involvement in a heinous crime was questioned by the two FBI agents who were eager to do anything to get you to talk.

Words: 6802

a/n: This one is dedicated to my nasty, touch-starved btches who secretly wants to be manhandled by two older men. Enjoy this pure filth🫶

YOU WERE FAR FROM BEING A GOOD PERSON. From the surface, you seemed like a normal, typical woman, just one of the countless faces within the crowd. But when the doors shut behind you, you find yourself involved in endeavors you should never have pursued in the first place.

You knew too much. You were acutely aware of how many crimes happening in your vicinity. The number of deaths resulting from these heinous acts should be enough to terrify you, but it didn't, because unbeknownst to your peers, you were one of the reasons why they happened.

Although you never played the role of the perpetrator, you were the person these criminals came to for information. You were good with technology, you could hack into any secure system in the blink of an eye. It was almost as if you were a deity of the dark web, a mastermind whose mere presence served as a godsend to those carrying out these crimes.

It was easy money; you gave what they wanted, received what they paid you, and most importantly, you made sure to never look back. You always wiped everything out after each job was done, but somehow, after working on so many deals, your luck finally struck out.

Somebody hacked into your system—no, somebody good hacked into your system. This person knew what they were doing. They managed to hack through your firewall and retrieve a few of your data while also discovering your identity.

You honestly wanted to praise whoever was on the other side because you had never encountered someone who could match, if not surpass, your own skill. But it wasn't until you heard the loud banging on your front door, followed by people in uniformed vests rushing in and pointing their guns at you, that you finally realized who had breached your system.

It was the FBI.

So that was how you found yourself sitting inside an interrogation room hours later with two agents across from you. A very tall, intimidating man stood at the corner, his arms crossed as he watched you silently. Dr. Spencer Reid was how he introduced himself, and the way he emphasized the title in front of his name, you were certain he was the type of person who took extreme pride in his intelligence.

He seemed a little too cocky.

Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, on the other hand, was hard to decipher. The older man appeared somewhat guarded as if his job had forced him to put on a facade devoid of genuine emotions. Maybe it did. He was, after all, a federal agent. Both of them were. These men were probably taught to master the art of maintaining an inscrutable poker face.

Nevertheless, they were both intimidating, and you wondered to yourself, was good cop bad cop not a thing anymore? Because as far as this was going, none of them seemed inclined to make things easy for you.

The man in front of you cleared his throat, his voice was a well-practiced blend of authority and curiosity. "You've been quite elusive, haven't you, Miss Y/L/N?"

You leaned back, studying him through half-lidded eyes, your fingers tracing the edges of the table with a cool, almost casual detachment. "Elusiveness is a matter of perspective, Agent Hotchner. I prefer to think of it as adaptability."

"Adaptability?" He leaned in closer, his sharp gaze never wavering. "You've made quite a name for yourself. You've infiltrated government agencies, stolen classified data, and even orchestrated financial heists... Impressive, I must say."

A faint smile danced upon your lips, revealing just a glimmer of amusement. "I simply explore the hidden avenues of the World Wide Web. It's not about the thrill; it's about the knowledge."

His eyes narrowed. "But your actions have consequences. You've caused quite a chaos, don't you think?"

"Consequences are a part of every action, whether in the digital realm or the physical world. As for chaos..." You met his gaze with unwavering confidence. "Well, sometimes chaos is necessary for evolution."

He leaned back, his expression unyielding. "Evolution or anarchy?"

"As I said, everything is a matter of perspective, even anarchy," you replied, your voice smooth as silk. "In the grand scheme of things, I'm just a catalyst. Society's flaws were there long before I came along."

The man in the corner took a step forward. His eyes bore into you with resolve as if he had grown weary of the ongoing debate. "You've had your say," he interjected with a steely tone. "You know why you're here. Our victim's files were found on your computer, we need to know who requested them."

You met his gaze with a mixture of defiance and amusement, unfazed by his direct approach. "Doctor Reid," you said, your voice laced with a hint of mock surprise. "Always chasing ghosts in the machine, aren't you?"

His expression remained composed, his intellect undeniably sharp. "We're not here to discuss my pursuits. We're here to talk about the life you've disrupted."

"Disrupted? I'd say I've merely revealed the cracks in the system. Your victim, as you call them, was a casualty of a much larger game."

"Games have rules, Miss Y/L/N. You seem to operate outside of them."

"Rules are made to be broken, Spencer," you retorted, your tone cutting like a blade through the air. "I can call you that, right? I hate having to speak with such formalities."

"It's Doctor Reid," he corrected. "Tell us who you're working for."

His unwavering determination was met with a subtle, knowing smile from you. You leaned forward, your eyes locking onto his with a hint of intrigue.

"I don't know, Spencer," you began, your tone slightly softer, as if you were letting him in on a secret, "The digital world is a labyrinth of information. Files come and go, they disappear and reappear... It's like trying to catch a shadow in the dark. It's useless."

He addressed you with a cold stare. "You're playing a dangerous game here."

You raised an eyebrow, your voice honeyed with allure. "Oh, I'm well aware of the game we're playing. But don't mistake my refusal to cooperate for arrogance. It's just that some secrets are meant to stay hidden."

The room seemed to contract, the air thick with unresolved tension. Aaron cleared his throat and your eyes fell back on him. "Miss Y/L/N, give us a name and we can make things easier for you. But if you don't cooperate..." His eyes traveled down along your body, the goosebumps rose on your skin in response to the heat of his gaze. "I'm afraid we have to resort to extreme measures."

A brief pause hung in the room. There was something in the way he was staring at you. He was looking at you with a profound determination that seemed very different from the way he assessed you before. Under the weight of his scrutiny, you felt your body growing hot. Your breath hitched, and a flush of warmth crept up your neck and tingled in your cheeks.

You regarded him for a moment before you finally spoke, your voice calm but tinged with a hint of defiance.

"If you think you can break me, Aaron, you're gravely mistaken. But if you're interested in the name..." you leaned back, crossing your arms. "I guess you'll have to earn it."

The tension in the room escalated as your words hung in the air. His jaw clenched, and when you thought you had won the upper hand over this battle of wits, he surprised you by waving his hand in the air, and Spencer came forward.

It was as if they had planned this. The way Aaron instructed his partner to move seemed rehearsed and calculated. Spencer walked over to you and before you could register what was happening, he grabbed onto your arm and wrenched you out of your chair with a force you didn't know he possessed.

Your voice carried a mix of anger and frustration as you protested, "What the hell are you doing?"

You suddenly felt him run his hands along your arms. "Checking for weapons."

The scoff you gave him was loud. "Oh, now you're treating me like a criminal?"

"It's a mere precaution."

And then you felt it, the way his touch lingered on your body. It was far from any normal search. His hands felt warm on your skin, even over the material of your shirt, as he continued to pat down your arms. There was a certain roughness in his movements as he slid his arms around your backside and you couldn't mistake the way he gripped your ass more than he should probably have.

"This is ridiculous," you muttered under your breath. "You won't find anything."

"I'll be the judge of that." He slightly shoved your shoulders. "Put your hands on the table."

You reluctantly did as you were told, silently gritting your teeth. His hands moved with purpose, and as much as you wanted to stop this questionable act, your body was reacting in a way that had you questioning yourself instead.

Why was your heart beating so fast as he stood behind you? Why was it getting so hard to breathe when his hands slipped around your waist? And why did it seem you were anticipating more when his palms slightly hovered over your breasts?

"Is this really necessary?" You asked quietly, trying to act as if his rough hands on you weren't affecting you. "This feels more like an attempt for intimidation."

You could practically hear the smugness in his voice as he asked, "Are you intimidated, Miss Y/L/N?"

You liked to think that you weren't, but honestly, you didn't know anymore. You had tried your best to put on a mask to avoid appearing weak, but as he started to squeeze your breasts in the palm of his hands, it finally dawned on you what was happening—You were finally caught, there was a high chance of you ending up in jail, and now a federal agent was touching you inappropriately, groping you in a crude form of patting you down.

And to your dismay, you actually liked it.

But you had too much of a pride, that was why you found yourself lying through your teeth. "No."

Spencer hummed a reply as if he didn't believe you. He squeezed your breasts through your shirt again, palming at them as he slightly felt your nipples stiffen through the material, and he couldn't resist rolling them as his touch continued lower. Your breath hitched as he mapped out your curves, one of his hands delving between your thighs before he stopped right at the center of your heat.

You let out a gasp.

"I-Is this even legal?"

Your mind went blurry as you felt his fingers touching you through the thin fabric of your pants. "Are you questioning how the law enforcement works?"

You couldn't answer him. Not because you didn't want to, but because you weren't able to form any coherent words as he continued to palm your sex, his fingers continuing to rub you. You were suddenly so focused on the way he was touching you, your head hanging low as you felt the sensation throughout your body, that you didn't even hear Aaron calling out your name.

It wasn't until Spencer retrieved his hand from between your thighs, and yanked your hair from behind, that you were forced to meet Aaron's gaze. "He called you," Spencer mocked, tightening his grip.

Aaron leaned forward, assessing the way you were arching your back with both of your hands planted on the table. "You have two options. One, we can play nicely, you give us a name and we'll go easy on you." His voice dropped lower as he continued, "Or two, you keep with this attitude and we might have to coax the answer out of you."

You locked eyes with him, a silent challenge burning in your gaze. Despite being in this vulnerable position, there was an undeniable strength in your stare, a refusal to surrender to their intimidation. Aaron met your gaze with a profound understanding.

"The hard way it is then." You saw him lean back in his chair as he crossed his arms, the subtle movement actuating his broad chest. "You know what to do, Reid."

There was nothing remotely gentle about the way Spencer handled you after those words. He shoved you, knocking the air out of your lungs as you gasped, your body pressed against the cool surface of the table. Somehow between your struggles, he managed to slide his hands around your waist, unbuttoning your pants before pushing them down your legs.

The air hit your bare skin, and even when you felt the cool breeze, your body was seething with fire, burning through your veins. The warmth spread along your cheeks as you realized you were wearing your skimpiest underwear, a flimsy material of dark lace that barely covered your sex. He gripped your ass with the palm of his hands, fingertips digging into the plush skin as he spread you apart.

"Well, aren't you a pretty thing?" You felt him shift behind you and you imagined him kneeling right in front of your heat. The moment his knuckles brushed along your wet patch, your hips bucked involuntarily. "She's wet, Hotch, I think she's getting a little too excited."

"I'm not surprised," the older man said. "She does seem like a slut."

Your head snapped at him. "I am not a slut."

"Oh, you are a slut." He leaned forward and reached out his hand, holding your chin in a vice grip, forcing you to look at him. "And we'll prove you how much of a whore you actually are."

Right on queue, a surprised gasp left your lips when Spencer's large palm burned your skin, giving your ass a harsh slap. The sound echoed in the room and he repeated the motion, watching in satisfaction the way your ass rippled for him. You fell into a false sense of security as he began to soothe his hand against your burning skin before pulling back to give another loud smack, and your mouth fell apart in pleasure.

"Not a fucking slut?" Aaron taunted, his thumb brushing on your lower lip. "That's the most farfetched lie you told us ever since you walked through that door."

You glared at him, but your defiance slowly shattered when you felt Spencer pulling down your panties over the curve of your ass, slipping them down your legs. The evidence of your arousal stuck onto the fabric and you felt your cheeks going warm in embarrassment. Spencer sucked in a gasp as he took in the sight of your lower half completely naked for him.

"Barely even touched you and you're soaking wet," he murmured, letting his thumb brush over your pussy, gauging your reaction. Your nose scrunched as you tried to bite back a moan that threatened to slip out. He started with gentle strokes, keeping his fingers only on the outer side, yet you could still feel his touch everywhere.

Each downstroke he made gave a light pull against your clit without giving any direct contact, and each time his fingers came back up, he slowly spread your folds open for him, briefly allowing your slickness to come in contact with the cold breeze of air.

Your mind became hazy, and just when you thought your body couldn't react more to his touch, he slipped a finger between your folds, feeling your slick against the dainty flesh. The motion caused your hips to buck erratically and your hands immediately reached up to grip onto the edge of the table.

He slipped deep inside you as your arousal coated him, circling your tight entrance as he felt the way your walls fluttered around the tip of his finger. He let out a low grunt as he felt how tight you were around him, curling at the knuckle while he began to drag his calloused pad against the soft spot inside you, making your body shake just from the mere contact.

The subtle reaction didn't go unnoticed by Aaron and he watched as your eyes glazed over. He couldn't stop himself from smirking, his features revealing a hint of amusement.

"You're enjoying this too much. I'm starting to think you're keeping your silence for the sake of this." You moved your head away from his grasp, only for him to grip your jaw harder. "Don't fucking move. Keep your eyes on me while he fucks your tight little pussy."

You never thought you'd be hearing such crude words from him, not with his stoic demeanor and polished facade, nor did you expect your body to react the way it did when those words filled your ears. You couldn't help it, your body betrayed your mind as your cunt continued to throb between your thighs. You could feel the desire building inside you, threatening to burst as you felt your body shake, and Spencer was well aware of this as he felt your walls clenching around his finger.

The laugh coming through his lips rang in your ears, sending shivers down your spine. "She liked that."

Aaron raised his eyebrows at you. "You like it when I talk like this?" He taunted. "You like it when I tell you how much of a slut you are taking his fingers so deep inside you?"

Your eyelids dropped lower at his words, and right at that moment, a lewd squelch filled the room as Spencer slowly slipped another finger into your dripping cunt, stretching you out as he began to thrust them inside you at a steady pace. Your body quivered as your breath quickened, and you found yourself grinding against his touch, desperately trying to get him to press the same spot inside you.

"Look at you fucking yourself on my fingers," Spencer cooed, his free hand smacking your bare ass again, and you found yourself arching your back. "You really are filthy."

Aaron laughed. "Acting like you didn't want it a second ago." He gripped your jaw tighter, forcing a gasp out of you at the subtle pain. He took advantage of your opened mouth by slipping his thumb inside. "Suck on my finger, Sweetheart."

You didn't know which one surprised you the most, his sudden term of endearment, or the order he gave you. You hesitated, because the moment you willingly sucked on his finger, you knew you would lose. The moment you followed through to his demand, he would have the upper hand and you would simply be the pawn in this game.

Aaron, as you realized, wasn't a patient man. His other hand reached for your hair and then, with a sharp and sudden yank, he tore at your hair. "Don't make me use more force than I already am."

Your roots tingled, your scalp throbbing, and a few tears welled up in your eyes. You blinked them away, not wanting to show any sign of weakness, and leveled your gaze at him.

He pulled your hair again. "Suck."

The pain was so much for you that you found yourself wavering. You swirled your tongue around his thumb before closing your lips and sucking with an approving hum. A husky moan was pulled from deep within him, overwhelmed by the feeling of your mouth on him, and, especially, the sight of you. "That's it," he praised you. "Suck on it as if you're sucking my cock."

Your walls clenched again. A sound of pleasure erupted from Spencer as he felt your cunt sucking in his fingers, and without warning, he pumped them into you with so much force you couldn't stop yourself from moaning this time. He laughed, as did Aaron, and your body shook as you felt that familiar sensation tightening along your body.

The room around you seemed to blur and melt away at the pleasure coursing in your veins. It started in the pit of your stomach, a warm, liquid sensation that spread like a slow-burning fire, radiating outwards in waves. Your hushed moan was muffled by Aaron's thumb in your mouth, but the sound of your pathetic whining didn't go unnoticed by both men.

You were so fucking close you could feel every nerve in your body on high alert. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, and your body quivered with the intensity of the sensation. Your eyes fell shut as the lewd sound of your arousal filled the room, and just when you were about to let go, Spencer suddenly pulled his fingers out of you, wrenching away that peak of pleasure you were desperately chasing.

Your eyes shot open, dilated pupils now wide with shock and confusion. Aaron met your gaze with amusement, a sadistic smile dancing on his lips as he pulled his thumb out of your mouth with a pop. "Stupid girl, thinking we'd actually let you cum."

The abrupt contrast between the heights of your pleasure and the stark void that followed was jarring. But before you could comprehend your disappointment, you heard a shuffle behind you followed by footsteps circling you. Spencer finally came back into your line of vision and with no one standing behind you, you tried to push yourself from the table, only to be shoved back down by Aaron.

"Fucking stay where you are," he commanded, his sharp voice piercing right through you. Your eyes were fixed on him, gaze unwavering as he slowly rose from his seat. And then suddenly he was the one behind you, and now Spencer stood right in front of you, looking down at you with amusement.

"You know," he started, his fingers trailing the side of your face. You moved your head away from his touch, but unlike Aaron, he didn't force you to look at him. He merely chuckled as he continued, "You wouldn't be in this position if you had given us the name."

Hearing this, you finally glanced up at him. The self-confidence he carried was starting to annoy you and you couldn't stop yourself from spitting venom, especially when he had ripped away the pleasure thrumming in your body. "I told you to fucking earn it."

The remaining air was knocked from your lungs when the palm of his hand collided with your cheek, your head jolting to the right from the force of the impact. Bright white stars danced behind your closed eyelids, and for a second you thought that you were dizzy from the shock. But then you felt it, the pressure that had been building in your core giving way, a wave of pleasure washing over you.

"Dirty girl," he taunted. "Here I was trying to shut you up and you actually liked that? You like being slapped around?"

You remained quiet, looking away from him.

"And don't worry, you will tell us by the end of this." You faintly hear the sound of metal ringing in your ears. Your eyes fell back on him and your heart sank when his hands moved down to his belt, unbuckling it as he let it hang around his hips.

His fingers moved to unbutton his pants before tugging down the fly. The sight of his hard cock tenting beneath his briefs had your cunt clenching in anticipation, as much as you hated to admit it. Then his thumbs dipped into the hem of his boxers, tugging the fabric down, and you looked up at him with wide eyes. He was bigger than you'd expected. He was thick and solid, veins danced along his length and the droplet of wetness on his tip was too mesmerizing you couldn't look away.

He wrapped a fist around his length, hissing in relief as he made his way towards you. "Now let's put that filthy mouth of yours to good use." He pressed the head of his cock against your lips, half-lidded eyes gazing down at you as he leaned forward. "Open."

The musky scent of him overwhelmed you as you breathed in and you involuntarily opened your mouth wide to accommodate his girth. The flat of your tongue pressed against the underside of his cock as he gave soft, shallow thrusts inside your warm mouth. His fingers held onto your face as he watched his length disappear inside you.

"God, look at you—" Spencer rasped, his voice sounding strained. "Good fucking girl."

Each roll of his hips has more of his thick cock slipping inside your mouth. His palm moved to the back of your head, holding you steady as he forced his length further down your throat, watching as your cheeks darkened and your eyes watered. Your hands moved up to push at his thighs as you struggled against his grip, the desire to breathe overwhelming as you tried to push him away.

You suddenly felt lightheaded from the lack of oxygen and you began to cough and splutter around him, your throat constricting as the sensation flowed directly through his cock. The sensation made him groan out in pleasure as he finally eased his grip on your head and leaned back, allowing you to breathe as you continued to splutter, drool dripping down your chin as you gulped for much-needed air.

Your head felt delirious. You were too focused on catching your breath when you unexpectedly felt something thick pushing into your cunt in one swift motion, knocking you over as you let out a scream.

"Hotch," Spencer laughed, tightening his grip on your hair while he positioned his cock back onto your lips again. "You shocked her."

Aaron merely grunted a reply as he held onto your hips and started to thrust his cock into you. His thickness sent a ripple of pain between your legs. He was definitely bigger than anyone you'd been with before, your breath coming out in soft, shallow pants as he drove more of himself inside your tightness. Your teeth bit down on your lower lip as a dull ache filled your body, trying to ignore the pain as he continued to stretch your tight heat.

There were no words after that, the room was hazy with desire as the heat built within the small space. The two men focused their attention on your body as you took them at the same time. It was filthy, depraved, and something you'd never done before. You never thought you would be in this position, nor did you think you'd actually enjoy being used like this.

Because you did, you really fucking did. Your entire body felt hot, a scorching fire flowing through your veins as you embraced the sensation, an indescribable pleasure taking over as Aaron's cock curved towards that delicious spot inside you with precision.

Your body was pressed against the table, sweaty and exhausted. It was torture, the way he was slamming his cock inside of you at the pace that left you breathless, it hurt and burned with pleasure at the same time. Each thrust had you hanging on the edge of release, unable to think straight as your mouth continued to mindlessly babble around Spencer's cock.

Every so often he'd hold the back of your head securely so you couldn't move away as he continued to bury himself in your throat. A pleased sound escaped his lips as you started to choke around his girth. It felt like you were starting to drown yourself as he shoved into you ruthlessly. Your lungs cried out for air as you began to feel woozy from the lack of oxygen, desperately trying to breathe through your nose.

"Fuck," he hissed, finally easing his hips back to give you relief. You spluttered as you gasped for air, a mixture of his arousal and your spit dribbled down your chin. "So fucking messy."

You tried to calm your breathing, but it didn't take long for your brain to turn into mush again because Aaron snapped his hips, pulling a moan from your lips as he started a harsh pace. Fingertips dug into your hips as he buried more of himself inside your tightness, your inner walls pulsing around him.

His thrusts were hard and you were certain you'd have marks on your skin from the way he was rutting against you, a dull ache panging inside your lower half. Your mouth fell open in a constant moan as you tried to hold your body up against the table. A throb coursed through you as you tried to hold onto the edge, your breath coming out in harsh pants. You were so desperate for your release, your body so close to coming undone.

"Fuck, Sweetheart, are you going to cum?"

You mumbled out a garbled reply as he continued thrusting into you relentlessly, your fingertips digging into the table as you felt his cock dragging against your inner walls. Aaron grunted at the sensation of you clenching around him. His eyes drifted down to where your bodies were connected and watched the way his cock slid in and out of your tight cunt.

He was on the edge of his release, you could tell by the way he thrust into you desperately. You prepared yourself for your own pleasure, your hips moving involuntarily, meeting his erratic movement, as you seek more friction from him. You whimpered, feeling his fingertips dig into your skin almost painfully and you felt the familiar sensation traveling along your body. Fuck. Fuck yes. You were finally going to—

A drawn-out whine left your lips when he pulled his cock out from your tight heat. The sudden emptiness had your body shaking violently. It wasn't until you felt a streak of wetness spluttering on your back that you realized he had reached his own high without letting you reach your own.

"Shit," he gasped, slapping your ass as he watched his own liquid seeping down the curve of your back. "That was incredible."

You groaned. Fucking selfish man.

"What was that?"

It then dawned on you that you actually mumbled those words out loud. You shook your head and he groaned at your lack of words. "That didn't sound like nothing."

And suddenly, as if you weighed nothing, he grabbed onto your body and turned you over, pushing you onto your back. You were too weak to even fight him as he shoved your pants off your feet before spreading your legs apart. You watched as he leaned down and a long string of clear liquid fell from his lips toward your cunt, letting it trickle down between your folds.

"Knew you were a slut," he hissed, before straightening himself and tucking his cock back in his pants. Your eyes drifted toward him. He was big, just as big as you felt him inside you. But it wasn't his sheer size that surprised you, it was Spencer standing by your feet that had your heart peaking up its pace. Aaron smirked as he stepped back and Spencer quickly took his place between your legs.

"Look at you still holding back," Aaron taunted, genuine curiosity lacing in his voice as he paced around the room. "You're worn out. You're filthy. Aren't you tired of playing this game?"

You looked over at him tiredly. Amidst the pulsing waves of pleasure coursing through your veins, you fought to maintain your focus. "Y- You haven't done anything m-much to earn—"

His laughter sent a chill through the room. "Oh, Sweetheart, you think you're winning, but you're not." He then locked his gaze on you. "Trust me, we already have you in the palm of our hands."

You tried retorting back but the once-sharp edges of your concentration began to blur when you felt Spencer's throbbing cock right between your pussy. Each pulse of pleasure sent tremors through your resolve as he eased his hips back to drag the thick, swollen head through your outer lips. His eyes focused on the way you spread for him as though inviting him inside.

"You're already fucked out," Spencer murmured, dragging the tip of his cock through your wetness, feeling it catch against your tight entrance. "Yet look at you swallowing me."

He let the underside of his cock split your folds open, resting it between them snugly as he let out a low groan at the heat radiating from your core. The sinful noise that left your lips had his cock throbbing painfully, the thick veins protruding from his length. He angled your body against him, pushing more of his thick girth inside your trembling body, feeling the way you squeezed around him as he stretched you out.

Spencer pressed his fingers into the curve of your hips as his gaze flickered between your face and his cock splitting you apart. You gasped, your breaths growing more erratic as he managed to push all of his length inside you. He ran his hand over your abdomen as he tried to feel his cock inside you, pressing against your pelvis as he pulsed at the sensation.

"Fuck, baby," he growled, "Taking me so well."

And then he slowly dragged his cock away from you, keeping just the tip in your entrance before plunging back inside in a harsh, jarring movement, jolting you in surprise. You arched your back and tipped your head back in pleasure, just to find Aaron towering above you, looking down at you with an eerie smile.

His fingers trailed down your shoulder blades before they hovered at the buttons on your shirt, slowly unbuttoning them. "I think it's time that you give us a name."

Your body writhed in response to the waves of sensation as you tried to ground yourself. But it was hard to keep thinking straight when he grabbed onto the underlayer of your bra and lifted it over your chest. The way your perky breasts spilled out from beneath the fabric made both men hum in satisfaction.

Calloused palms grabbed onto your breasts and your eyes rolled at the back of your head at the sensation. His thumb brushed against your soft nipple, watching as it began to rise to a stiff peak as he mimicked the action on your other breast, all the while as Spencer began thrusting into your cunt at a painfully slow pace.

"Come on, Sweetheart, don't you want to cum on his cock?"

"Fuck," Spencer grunted, feeling you clench around him. "Keep talking to her."

Aaron chuckled as he continued playing with your breasts. "It's torture, isn't it?" He closed his index finger and thumb around your nipples, pinching ever so gently. You let out a soft sigh and closed your eyes as arousal flushed through you. "Give us a name and we'll give you what you want."

And then you felt Spencer rocking his hips at a steady rhythm, burying himself deeper and deeper before he slowly began increasing his speed. Your body jerked wildly each time he pushed deep into you. Noticing this, his thumb moved to your clit as he pressed messy circles against the sensitive nub, twisting it beneath his calloused pad. It felt too good, so good that you could no longer hold back from moaning out loud.

Your cries of pleasure snapped him into action and his hands moved down to your ass, holding you up to him as he started pounding harder into you. Your head fell back, chest heaving up and down, and that was when you felt Aaron closing his lips around one of your nipples. You writhed, your body thrashing underneath both men. Your senses reeling, the warmth of multiple hands on your skin sent jolts of electricity down your spine, igniting a wildfire of pleasure within you.

Aaron pulled away from you and your eyes flickered open at the loss, only to be met with Spencer hovering above you. Your eyes swept over him, and you looked down where you were joined, watching how his hips moved in constant thrusts. He was enjoying this, you could tell by the way his fingers burned your skin and the occasional grunt escaping his lips.

At the sound of his voice, you looked up at his face, glistening with a sheen of sweat while his messy hair tousling over it. The moment your gazes met each other, something inside you snapped. The muscles in your core began to coil, tightening and constricting around him right as your climax slowly pushed through the fog inside your head. Spencer felt it too, and he suddenly slowed his pace, throwing you a cunning smile.

You felt your resistance starting to crumble. The intensity of your pleasure grew almost unbearable, and you could no longer deny it. Your eyes welled with tears at the overwhelming sensation, and the thought of having your orgasm ripped again from you seemed like another torture you didn't want to endure.

You were going to regret this. You definitely would. But you couldn't dwell on the consequences of your actions when desperation coursed through you like a fever, an all-consuming hunger that you couldn't deny. Your body ached for release and craved it with an intensity that was maddening.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, and then your eyes, wide and filled with desperation, pleaded with him silently as you found yourself finally giving in, muttering a name you had tried to keep to yourself. A name involved in the crime these men had been pestering you for. A name that had Aaron smirking devilishly as he leaned over to you, brushing his knuckles on your cheek in a caress that was so foreign.

"Good girl," he mumbled, his voice lacing with satisfaction at the way you finally crumbled. He was right, you were already in the palms of their hands, it was simply a matter of time until you caved in. "Good fucking girl."

Once you surrendered, you couldn't stop the whine falling through your lips. Your desperate moan rang deeply in the room, snapping something primal inside Spencer, and he trusted his hips into you roughly. A gasp escaped your lips, legs falling open wider as he split you wider than you already were.

Your mind went absolutely numb with pleasure as he kept rutting up inside you, your body becoming nothing more than a mess, overtaken by a wave of sweat and erotic bliss. You felt yourself trembling, your breathing becoming more ragged as his thrusts became sloppier.

“Fucking hell,” he grunted, noticing the way your mouth fell open as pleasure engulfed you. "That's it, baby, let me fuck you dumb."

You cried out, babbling incoherent sentences as he thrust harder, grabbing your hips and tilting into you slightly, making him go even deeper as he moved with you.

"Go on, cum on my cock," he growled breathlessly through his rapid pounding. "Let me feel you."

“Fuck—” You cried out for him, your overstimulated body shaking beneath him. Wave after wave of pleasure came rushing through your body, erupting in the most intense way. He watched the way you convulsed beneath him in your release, watching the way a white, sticky liquid circled his cock every time his skin brushed your inner walls. His thumb was unrelenting against your clit and you tried to angle your body away from his touch, the pleasure too intense as your lower half throbbed around him.

You continued to clench around him between your bliss, your legs trembling from the position as he arched his back, focusing the power of his thrusts straight into your tightness. A shiver burst through you at the sensation. And with one final thrust, his whole body tensed. He pushed forward, burying his cock in your soft, warm cunt, spreading his warmth in much slower and shallow rolls of his hips.

You were breathing hard, trying to regain your composure, and a moan left your lips when he finally pulled out. Cringing at the fluid slowly leaking out of you, you tried to close your legs only to be stopped as he gripped the back of your thighs, spreading your legs apart to expose your body. You were so wonderfully disheveled, your cunt clenching around nothing, gleaming with your arousal and his own release.

“Look at the mess you made." Piercing eyes watched you as white liquid trickled down your ass. A feeble mewl left your lips as his thick fingers moved down to catch it, deliberately pressing against your folds as you wriggled in his grasp. A laugh left his lips as he dragged the string of wetness along your sex, pushing it back inside you.

"I think I ruined her."

Aaron's laughter filled the room, and just as you were about to push yourself off the table, you felt him grasping both of your hands, pushing them above your head. Your eyes widened in shock. "Wh-what are you doing?"

Then you felt it, the cool metal wrapped around your wrist, sinking into the flesh of your skin as you tried to move from his grip. An unexpected panic surged within you. "Sweetheart, we know you're involved in more than one crime." The soft click of the metal lock was loud in your ears. "You need to give us more names."

Your body, still tingling with the aftershocks of pleasure, now felt more exposed than ever. You looked up to find both men staring down at you, and at very moment, you realized, as you felt the handcuffs digging into your wrist, that you were going to be here for a very long time.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x reader smut #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds smut

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mydearzero · 9 months

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i need jealous spencer SO BAD if he sees a guy flirting with you it would drive him crazy, no thinking, he just has to have you and everyone needs to know that you're his and only his, smut pls with praise (“good girl” 🥰) THANK U SO MUCH ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for the request and for reading!! I got inspired to write this as a continuation of Prey, so that's what it'll be! I hope you enjoy ♡

Predator | Professor!Spencer Reid x Reader

This is a part 2 to Prey, but can be read as a standalone.

MASTERLIST

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: You apparently have a knack for picking up FBI agents. But if prison has taught Spencer one thing, it's that sharing is not his forté.

Contents: NO Y/N, fem!Reader, SMUT, professor/student relationship, age gap, dom/sub, dom!Spencer, sub!reader, public sex, penetrative sex, oral sex (f rec), unprotected sex, creampie, jealousy, possessiveness, praise kink, a lil bit of degradation, exhibitionism. If I missed any warnings please tell me!

3.9K words

You didn't know what you'd expected after finally getting what you wanted. Sure, you weren't going to date your professor. Yet, you had expected Reid to at least acknowledge what had happened between the two of you. Maybe tell you to keep it to yourself, bribe you to not tell a soul.

Nothing. Not a peep.

It didn't help he was only on campus sporadically. You tended to forget teaching was only his temporary side gig. He had to go back to catching bad guys. So much for your eye candy.

You couldn't let yourself dwell on Dr. Spencer Reid. It was a one-time thing, and he probably regretted it. He'd let his desires get the best of him.

You sighed as you applied some chapstick, checking your hair in the mirror before turning to put on your coat. It was just drinks with friends, but you were in no mood to be social. You hadn't told them about your stint with Spencer and weren't planning on telling them anytime soon. They just knew you were hung up on someone and would likely try to set you up to help you get over it.

It wasn't fair you were even hung up about it. You didn't have feelings for him. He was just so intriguing. It was hard to see him go. You sighed and locked the door behind you, greeting your friends and getting in the car towards O'Keeffe's.

Loud music, conversation and laughter met your ears as you entered the bar. You threw a quick glance around the crowded room, spotting an open spot at the bar. You got the attention of your friends, pointing to the free space.

Spencer chuckled at one of Penelope's jokes, but his smile quickly dropped as he saw you walk into the team's favourite bar. You obviously hadn't spotted him, engrossed in a conversation with a girl he'd previously seen in his class. He sighed, sipping his drink and trying to pull his attention away from you.

"What is it, Spence?" JJ inquired. He shook his head in dismissal.

"It's nothing, just a couple of students from my class," Spencer explained, letting his eyes wander over your body just this once.

"That doesn't look like nothing, boy wonder," Emily raised an eyebrow, following his gaze.

"Just some unfinished business, is all. Nothing interesting."

Nothing interesting. Spencer scoffed to himself. Even he didn't believe it. He was glad his break from the BAU was over, not having to force himself to ignore your inquiries any longer. He'd been reckless, and now he'd have to live with the consequences. The consequences haunted his mind every time he closed his eyes.

Please, Spencer. Please.

Your desperate words echoed around his head. He should've never given in.

"Do tell more, my inconspicuous sage," Penelope leaned her head on her crossed fingers, a big grin on her face.

"There's nothing to tell, Garcia. They're my students," Spencer shrugged. He had a superb poker face, but nothing could be hidden from his team.

JJ narrowed her eyes at him, trying to figure it out. Emily was way ahead of her, letting out a pleasantly surprised scoff. "You animal! You slept with one of them!"

"Will you keep it down?!" Spencer whisper-yelled. Realizing he hadn't denied it, he looked at the glass in his hands, refusing to meet the girls' eyes.

"I see you, Casanova. Wouldn't have pegged you the type," Penelope laughed. Spencer shook his head.

"Because I'm not! It was a mistake," it was more to convince himself than the others.

"So, which one is it?" JJ questioned, wanting to discuss his type with the girls.

Spencer refused to look in the direction of the bar, not wanting to give anything away. "Can we please just change the subject?"

"No can do, Spence. Now, is it the tall, leggy blonde? Oh! Is it the one talking to the newbie?" That caught Spencer's attention.

"What?" His head snapped up, turning to where you were leaning against the bar, Luke Alvez whispering in your ear. Spencer's grip on his glass tightened as he observed your pleasant smile. He squinted his eyes, trying to make out what Alvez possibly could've said to paint that smile on your face. The smile he'd wrongly presumed was reserved for him.

"Oh, that's the one, alright." Emily laughed. Spencer snapped out of his jealous tunnel vision, trying to appear unaffected by the situation. Damn you, Alvez. He was supposed to go and get drinks, not flirt with girls barely over the legal drinking age. He crossed his arms and tried to tune in on the girls' conversation.

"Look at him, definitely jealous. Crossed arms? Refusing to look in their direction? Chewing the inside of his mouth? Classic signs of jealousy." JJ spoke, gesturing to Spencer's body. He really regretted agreeing to go out.

He watched you throw back the last of your drink, laughing at a story Luke told.

"Do you have any pictures?" You asked. Luke had been telling you all about his Belgian Shepherd, Roxy. You couldn't even remember how the topic came up in the last ten minutes you'd been speaking with him.

Luke was classically handsome. Toned, too. You admired his features, but condemned yourself for comparing them to a certain professor's. You'd approached him as he waited for his drinks, asking if you'd previously met. He looked familiar. You just couldn't put your finger on why. Surely you would've remembered meeting someone as handsome as him.

The mystery man had told you that, no, you hadn't met, but introduced himself as Luke Alvez.

Luke showed you a few pictures of his adorable dog before continuing the conversation. "So, what do you do?"

"I'm a full-time student, currently. You?" You got comfy leaning against the bar, enjoying his company.

"I actually work for the FBI," Luke informed you. You nearly choked on your drink, instantly realizing why he'd been familiar. You'd done your research.

"You wouldn't happen to be a part of the BAU?" You winced.

"Yes, actually! How'd you kn-"

Luke was cut off by a harsh grip on your upper arm. Your head turned, only to find the hand to be attached to the source of your dread.

"Spencer? What are you doing here?" You tried to be casual, but you were panicking. Was he here with Luke? Or was it just a coincidence?

"I could ask you the same thing," Spencer dejected.

"I was actually talking to my new friend Luke here," you tugged your arm out of Spencer's grip, a challenging expression on your face. Luke looked uncomfortable, clearly already having figured out how you'd learned he was a part of the BAU.

"Why do you have to be so fucking diff- No, you know what? I'm not doing this. Let's go," Spencer motioned towards the door of the bar. You furrowed your brows in confusion. First, he wanted nothing to do with you, and now he expected you to just leave with him without question?

"What? No, I'm not leaving. I'm here with friends. Besides, why would I leave with you, Professor?" You questioned. Luke's expression changed to one of surprise. That definitely wouldn't have been his first guess, seeing as you'd called him 'Spencer.'

"Is that Professor Reid? Oh my god, hi!" One of your friends finally noticed what was going down. Spencer gave her a tight-lipped smile and half-hearted raise of his hand. Their attention quickly returned to their previous conversation.

Spencer looked agitated, taking a deep breath to recollect his bearings. "Please, just come with me," he pleaded quietly. You crossed your arms and huffed.

"You can't go making demands, Spencer! Not when you've been ignoring me!" You tried to keep your volume down, trying to not give away what had obviously happened.

Luke took that as his queue to leave, but not before earning a nasty look from Spencer. He raised his hands in defence. When Luke returned to the table, he was met with excited whispers from the girls.

"I've never seen him like this," JJ exclaimed. They were all observing as you were arguing with Spencer.

"I take it you know what's going on there?" Luke sat down, putting his beer next to Spencer's unfinished glass.

"Oh, newbie. It's a true scandal. Our resident genius was very jealous of your new lady friend," Penelope clapped her hands together in excitement.

"But she's his student, right?"

"Exactly why it's such a scandal!"

The team observed your body language as well as Spencer's. They noticed your defensive stance, a change from the relaxed one you'd had when talking to Luke. Spencer, too, exuded a different energy. He was clearly in charge of the conversation, domineering stance looking like his second nature. It was clear there was a side to him they hadn't seen, intentionally hidden away.

"Oh Ehm Gee, look!" Penelope clamoured.

Spencer had had enough, dragging you towards the bathroom instead of the door like he'd initially intended. He'd tried to hold back, but you made it so damn difficult.

"Where are we going? Let me go," you struggled in his grip, nearly tripping over your feet as he dragged you to the bathroom.

"You clearly need to be taught a lesson in respect," Spencer spat, pushing you into the women's bathroom and closing the door.

"Stop it, Spencer. You're acting childish," you scoffed, trying to push past him out the door.

"I'm being childish? What was that back there, then? Flirting with my coworker in front of me? That's a new low," Spencer mocked. His body language was hostile and distant. He was feeling worse about it than he was letting on. He clearly had unresolved feelings about your situation, just like you did.

"I didn't even know he was your coworker! Or that you were here! And you've ignored me every time I've tried to talk to you! You don't get to stake some sort of claim over me!" You defended. Did he really expect you to just wait around for him?

"I'm not staking a claim! I just assumed we had an understanding!" Spencer's voice was rising with every sentence he spoke. The small bathroom seemed to only get smaller as he towered over you.

"What understanding, Spencer? We only fucked once," you sneered, rolling your eyes.

"Did you just roll your eyes at me?" Spencer's tone shifted, simmering anger underlined with something you couldn't place. You searched his face for emotion but only found his tightened jaw and eyebrows raised in question.

"So what if I did?" You challenged, crossing your arms. He wasn't backing down, staring into your eyes. You felt your resolve crumble little by little.

"Bend over," Spencer demanded, motioning to the sink with his head.

"I'm not bending over some gross bar sink! Especially not for you," you tried pushing past him again, to no avail. His hands found your upper arms, turning you around and pushing you over the sink.

"You'll listen to me if you know what's good for you," Spencer whispered in your ear. The dampened bass thrumming through the closed bathroom door had nothing on your heartbeat.

You awaited his hands against your ass, but they didn't come. You stayed in the position he'd put you in, waiting. Spencer stepped back, and you didn't dare move a muscle.

"Hmm, good girl. See how easy it is to just listen?" He ran a hand over your back, stopping at the hem of your bottoms. You didn't reply, waiting with bated breath.

"Now, do you remember the rules?" Spencer made eye contact through the mirror. You felt yourself nod before correcting the behaviour.

"Yes, Sir," you were quick to stammer the words.

"Good girl..." Spencer trailed off, hooking his fingers into your waistband and pulling everything down to your ankles, leaving you exposed.

He admired your pussy, kicking your legs apart to give him a better view and access. He wasn't wasting any time this time around. He placed his hands on your ass, squatting down to be at face height with your nethers. You jumped and tried to contain your reaction as he licked a stripe between your folds. Your hand slapped over your mouth, begging nobody could hear what was going down.

"Wait, Spencer. Lock the door," you remembered.

"Shut up. Did I give you permission to speak?" Spencer spoke against the warmth between your legs.

"N-no, Sir," you answered. Your eyes darted to the unlocked door again, anxious someone might walk in. It was a public bar, after all. You wanted to question him. What if someone walked in? But you knew better, keeping your lips sealed.

Spencer resumed with his mouth on your cunt, slowly devouring and driving you crazy. Tremors built in your legs as he sped up his advances. The wet sounds of his tongue lapping at your clit reached your ears, sending blood rushing to your cheeks. You clenched your eyes shut and balled your fists, doing your best to withhold your reactions.

"Fuck..." The soft whimper left your mouth as Spencer sucked harshly on your clit. It was almost enough to send you over the edge. Almost. Spencer seemed to know as much, teasing endlessly. You wanted to beg, plead with him to make you cum, but you knew any words from your mouth would urge him to do the opposite.

The doorknob clicked, and you tried to kick Spencer away from you. His grip on your hips was unwavering as he maintained his eager actions.

The door flew open, and an unknown girl shrieked at the sight before her before quickly backing out the door. You'd hidden your face to the best of your ability, but there was no doubt what was going on. The least you could do to spare your dignity was hide your identity.

Your heart beat rapidly in your chest at the intrusion. Even though you hated that you'd gotten caught in such a compromising situation, you couldn't deny it was a little exhilarating to know anybody could walk in at any moment while Spencer had his way with you without a care in the world.

"You liked getting caught, didn't you? That's what little whores like you get off on," Spencer muttered against your pussy. You shook your head, denying his accusation.

Spencer got off the floor, and you met his gaze through the mirror. "No? You didn't like it? Then why'd you get so wet," his words were emphasized by the fingers running through your sensitive folds. You whined at the sensation, biting your lip.

"Fine, have it your way," Spencer sighed, leaning over and finally locking the door. The damage had been done, anyway.

"Get up and turn around," Spencer ordered. You quickly obeyed, spinning to face him. Your ass pressed into the sink as Spencer stepped closer. He observed you for a second, his right hand coming up to cup your cheek in a strangely intimate moment.

He quickly snapped out of it, bringing the hand down to your chin and gripping it tightly. You attempted to beg him to continue without words, but he was taking his sweet time. While his touch was no longer tender, the unexpected kiss he planted on your lips could only be described as delicate. A promise.

His lips quickly moved down your neck, sucking harshly in any open spot he could find. His hand went up to your hair as he put the other on your waist. He tugged strategically, intentionally messing up your put-together appearance. This, combined with the trail of bruises he was leaving on your neck, made one thing clear: He was marking his territory. A fond feeling you wanted to ignore, perhaps to preserve it for later, bloomed in your chest.

Spencer pushed you backwards onto the stone sink. You crossed your fingers it was a sturdy one, knowing what Spencer likely had in mind. He stepped between your opened legs, unbuckling his belt with one hand as the other remained on your thigh, rubbing the skin and driving you crazy.

He reached into his underwear, tugging his rock-hard cock out of its confines. He held it tightly in his fist, stroking it as he kept rubbing his fingers closer and closer to your heat. You would've easily been able to take his teasing if he hadn't left you hanging on the edge with his mouth. The seconds he spent stroking himself lazily as he watched you felt like torturous hours.

Finally, he made contact, tapping the head of his dick against your clit crudely. The sensation made you jerk backwards. He placed his length between your lips, lazily sliding yet never pushing inside. Every time the tip hit your clit with the upwards motion of his hips, a meek noise escaped you.

"What would Luke think if he saw you like this, huh? Think he'd still be all over you if he knew you were such a little slut for me?" He accentuated his words by finally thrusting inside, pulling a moan from your throat.

"Bet you'd like that, huh? Having him walk in here? Have him watch as I ruin your little pussy?" You cried out at his words. You couldn't help but imagine it.

"But you're my good girl, huh?" The slide of his cock against your walls felt phenomenal. You felt yourself tighten at his words. The ridge of his tip got stuck on your entrance, and Spencer chuckled.

"So tight for me. My pussy," he continued pushing inside, ignoring how you squeezed around him.

"Say it," he urged. "Tell me who this pussy belongs to."

"You! Belongs to you, Sir," you whined. You felt your body slowly slip off the sink with every push. You brought your hands to Spencer's shoulders as leverage to keep yourself upright.

"That's right, all mine," Spencer moaned. His voice was raspy. It was the sexiest thing you'd ever had the pleasure of hearing.

"Let me hear you," he coaxed. You took it as permission to finally speak.

"Please, Sir, more," you begged. You no longer had control over your body, throwing your head back and nearly crashing it into the mirror. Your throat was quickly becoming hoarse with the pleas and whines escaping it.

"More what, sweetheart?" The nickname sounded anything but sincere, just like the last time he'd used it in his office.

"Fuck- Spe- Sir, harder, please," you were gradually losing your sanity. Your nails dug into the skin of his neck in desperation.

He fulfilled your request, speeding up the momentum of his hips. You could only hope the music from the bar drowned out the sound of his balls slapping against your cunt with every harsh thrust. The wet squelches coming from where your bodies connected were vulgar.

"Fuck, baby. So good. Such a good girl for me," Spencer babbled as he leaned forward to plant a messy kiss on your lips. You kept him close with the hold on his neck.

You brought your hands up to his delectable locks, tugging harshly when he hit the magic spot inside of you.

"Spencer! Oh my god, please, don't stop," you exclaimed. He continued pounding into you roughly.

"Nobody can fuck you like I can, nobody will make you feel like I do," Spencer groaned. He was right. He'd ruined you for anybody else the second he'd set foot on campus.

"O-oh, shit..." Spencer whimpered. If his rough voice was sexy, then Professor Spencer Reid whimpering in your ear in desperation as he neared his climax was on another level. The filthy whispers and sounds falling from his lips were enough to bring you back to the brink.

"Fuck, Professor," you moaned. It snapped something in Spencer, whose hips stuttered. His pace turned brutal.

"Say that again," he commanded. Who knew his official title would've set him off?

"Please, Professor," you whined. The noises falling from your lips sounded foreign to your ears. Frenzied moans left you as Spencer brought his hand to your clit, rubbing circles in tandem with his thrusts.

"Good girl," Spencer moaned. "Such a good girl for me." You could tell he was about to cum, mirroring your own predicament.

"Fuck... Let them hear, baby. Tell them who's making you cum," Spencer's hips pressed hard against your own.

"Spencer, oh- shit," you were no longer holding back.

"That's right, cum for me."

His words sent you over the edge, vision momentarily going black as your toes curled. You felt your legs shake as Spencer pushed inside one last time, cock pulsing as he shot his cum deep inside. It was concerning how quickly you'd come to love that specific feeling.

He allowed you a second to catch your breath before he pulled out of you, tucking himself back into his pants and buckling his belt. He wasted no time, gathering some toilet paper from one of the stalls and carefully cleaning you up. He threw the paper in the toilet and flushed it, turning his attention back to you.

He bent down, placing a peck on your mound. "All mine."

You scoffed at the action, pushing him away. "You sap."

"Caught me," Spencer smiled softly, helping you off the sink. You pulled your bottoms back up, cringing at the wet feeling of his cum trickling down.

"Spencer, I can't go out there like this," you gestured to your exterior.

"You can and you will, c'mon," he placed a hand on the small of your back, ushering you to the exit. You did your best to rearrange your clothes to look somewhat presentable, but there was only so much you could do with your dishevelled appearance. The messy hair, ruined makeup and blotches splattered over your neck would be enough to give away what had happened.

Your eyes searched the bar for your friends, but they were nowhere to be seen. You grabbed your phone, and with all the notifications, your suspicions were confirmed. They'd left without you.

"Spencer, can you drive me home?" You tried turning to him, but he kept pushing you to the table where his team and Luke were still seated. Luke wolf-whistled at your appearance. You tried to shrink into yourself or to hide behind Spencer, but he wouldn't allow it. This clearly was some kind of dick-measuring contest to him.

Spencer sat down next to Emily, pulling you into his lap. "Knock it off already. They get it," you groaned.

"So, you're taking Spence's class? How's that working out for you?" The blonde next to Luke questioned. Spencer put a drink in front of you. You didn't question its contents, taking a sip before answering.

"Well, I guess we had some disagreements over some of my work, but it seems we've found a way to work that out," you joked. There was no use in being sheepish about it. Spencer had made very sure they understood exactly what your dynamic was.

"So it seems." Luke chuckled. You gave him an apologetic smile. He shrugged it off, raising his glass to clink it against yours.

Spencer's arm around you tightened. He'd 100% gotten his message across, but that didn't mean he liked you talking to Luke, or anybody, for that matter. If there's one thing Spencer learned from prison, it would be that sharing definitely wasn't his forté. Especially not you. No... You were all his.

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goldenphoenix4 · 3 months

Text

criminal minds convos that made me laugh

*bau trying to get into a poker game to catch the unsub*

jj: hey, hotch. any luck?

hotch: no. they still don't want to allocate funds for the buy-in. i'm still working on it.

rossi: well, i can't imagine why not. we're only asking for $50,000 of taxpayer money so fbi agents can play texas hold em'

emily: hey, what about you, rossi?

rossi: what about me?

emily: you could stake us the buy-in

spencer: yeah, you're a best-selling author!

rossi: no.

emily: why not?

rossi: one, it's against regulations, and i'd like to hold onto this job for a little while longer

jj, interrupting: it's a minor administrative violation

rossi, unphased: and two, i prefer to spend my money on actual things, like single-malt scotch, a fine cigar, beautiful artwork

emily: poker chips are things!

reid: maybe just think of it as like a new experience. i mean, at your age, how often does that happen?

rossi: at my what

#criminal minds memes #criminal minds #bau #bau team #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #david rossi #spencer reid #7x13 snake eyes

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fatuismooches · 1 year

Note

What are some habits that reader picks up from the Harbingers? Like what stuff do they begin to copy after being with them for so long :)

Imagine the Harbingers noticing that you picked up some of their quirks and habits.

Pierro notices how you start to stay up until abysmal hours of the night to complete whatever you have to. He does not approve of this at all and tries to get you to stop, even going as far as to have agents try to escort you to the bedroom. But there’s not much he can do when you say he does the exact same thing, and you won’t stop unless he goes to bed at the same time as you. So, Pierro has made somewhat of a compromise with you - the two of you work in the same office now. As much as he loves it, it is a bit of a distraction when you get bored with your work, and saunter over to him to drape your arms around him.

Capitano notices how you pick up his leadership skills. He is a well-respected Harbinger whom many look up to, and well, you’re just kind of there. You’re just his little lovely partner that the Fatui bow their heads to out of respect for your husband. After all, you’re nothing really special compared to Capitano’s exceptionality. But, The Captain is an observant man, and he does not fail to see your new quirks, that is suspiciously similar to his. The way you go around to the camps and just casually chat with the soldiers, always greeting them with a pleasant smile and story - it seems to greatly boost morale. Now, they’re bowing their heads out of respect for you.

Dottore notices how you copy the way he walks. Your hands are crossed professionally behind your back, a self-assured smirk present on your face. Your voice starts to build up with confidence and punctuated remarks. Your strides slowly start to become more confident and your quick wit starts to bring an impressed, maniacal grin to his face. He finds the way you copy him in this manner rather endearing - the idea of you being a mini him is quite entertaining to him. Dottore enjoys the possibility of people viewing you to be just as terrifying as him a great amount, so he definitely encourages it.

Columbina notices how you start to hum like her. Your voice pales in comparison to the lovely melody of hers, yet the way it comes so naturally to Columbina makes you want to try it as well. You don’t do it around her, of course, since you are far too embarrassed to ever show her. But it all goes out the window as she is adept at sneaking up on you, literally hovering over your shoulder as you have no idea she’s there. She hasn’t told you that she knows yet, she believes that if you know, you’ll stop, and she doesn’t want that to happen. If only you could do it around her someday, the crooning of your voice would surely send her into a deep sleep.

Arlecchino notices how you start to pick up on her poker face. She is a bit surprised at first when someone cracks a joke at you yet you just stare at them. At first, she thinks you’re maybe having a bad day, but you’re back to smiling quickly. When you explain to her you’ve been practicing her facial technique, she lets out a small chuckle. Secretly, she worries a bit - she doesn’t want to be the cause of somehow depleting your emotions. But you reassure her of course, in fact, the skill of keeping a straight face is quite useful, especially in situations where you’re trying your best not to burst out laughing.

Pulcinella (platonic!) notices how you start to copy some of his positive mentality. Your young age has cast a negative outlook on the world, rolling your eyes and scoffing at many things. His old age has allowed him to see everything - the good and the bad - making him have the aptitude to hold both happiness and sadness for the world. Pulcinella has seen many people like you, and always strives to change their point of view. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. So when you start to become even the slightest more optimistic, copying word for word his advice and sharing it with others, he couldn’t be prouder of you.

Scaramouche notices how you pick up his rude and snide comments. It’s not quite as frequent as he does it, but when you throw in a sarcastic remark or two, he can’t help but smirk and even laugh at the other person. Often times he joins in if the other person tries to snap back; his sharp tongue won’t anything hold back as he tells it how it is. He loves it - he’s the kind of person who roots for you in the background as you completely demolish someone, even if they don’t deserve it. He always thought you needed to bite back at people more instead of letting them walk all over you, so this is perfect for him.

Sandrone notices how to start to fix up stuff around her laboratory. She and her robots tend to keep the area tidy to avoid any accidents, especially after you entered the picture. Sandrone is a neat person in general and likes to keep her space organized, so you can often see her on her robot, dusting the higher-up places. You know she is a busy person, so you’d rather not see her spend her time cleaning. So you decided to take up the chore yourself. Certainly, your lover did not expect to see you nearly breaking your back to reach the lights, but she is definitely grateful and touched. She may or may not be flustered if you decide to wear an outfit fit for the task.

La Signora notices how you copy her fashion sense. You were never one to care much about fashion - you were rather a simple person who preferred simple clothes. But, it seems Signora, being the glamorous lady she is, has inspired you to put some more effort into your appearance. Surely, wearing some jewelry wouldn’t hurt, right? Adding some bling and extra lace here would look good too, maybe. Of course, Signora absolutely adores it - she has an entire wardrobe planned out and organized for you, filled with gorgeous and designer outfits that she even tailored to your tastes. She takes great pride in her appearance and would be happy to help you feel the same way.

Pantalone notices how you start to get more greedy of him. It is no surprise to anyone how possessive he is of his belongings, and that greed extends to you as well. He loves to be around you, and he loves it when others see you with him, at balls, parties, outings, everything - it’s silently saying that you are his. But when you start showing that same energy? He is so whipped and entranced. The way you protectively latch onto his arm and make direct eye contact with others, fighting the urge to stick out your tongue? Pantalone finds it so cute and even amusing; do you really think that he’d be interested in anyone besides you? His most prized treasure?

Childe notices how you start to become more motivated and determined to accomplish your goals. It is not a secret to anyone how dedicated he is to becoming stronger, as he has no shame in pursuing strong opponents relentlessly. His steadfast nature can’t help but have you inspired and energetic to follow your own dreams. Of course, Childe is wholly ecstatic and excited for you - he goes all in with the support! He’s rather glad that you are taking matters into your own hands, and that he was able to inspire that change. If your goal is to improve your battle prowess too, well, Childe would be a great supporter and helper for that.

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prisonhannibal · 1 year

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casino royale au just for fun and because mads mikkelsen is a bond girl <3 I didnt want the cbt to be part of an interrogation scene but felt like I couldnt make an AU based on the movie where mads did cbt without acknowledging the cbt, so in this they just did it for fun or something.

Agent Graham is back after a highly encouraged "vacation" due to his behavior etc while Jack Crawford was figuring out what to do with him. This time he's going to europe to investigate a guy suspected of being involved with a criminal organization. Will finds out that Dr. Lecter actually isn't that involved or loyal to the group he's just playing poker and having fun fucking with people, but he is a cannibalistic serial killer (which no one even suspected him of) and they run away together at the end<3

important detail (to me!) is that in the second picture he figured out what Hannibal's tell is while playing poker by accidentally copying his body language

#casino royale #hannibal lecter #will graham #jack crawford #hannigram #nbc hannibal #my art #minors dni

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sungbeam · 1 month

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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!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, business. You know how it is.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Trotting the globe, I bet?”

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

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

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

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

“Significant others then,” he offered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyebrows flew to your hairline.

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

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

Assistant? As if.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right away, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

“—Lee Juyeon. CIA.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don't know then.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart.”

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

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

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

“We will begin with Mrs. Takeuchi.”

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

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

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

Changmin settled in the chair directly across from Le Chiffre.

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

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

He was looking for his tell, you realized.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need more money.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ji.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh?”

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

Both you and Changmin glanced at one another in surprise.

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

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

“You would give the CIA Le Chiffre.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Safe,” he gasped to you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fucking hell, that was a close—”

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

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

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

Relief was short-lived.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yn—”

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

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

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

“Not so fast.”

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

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

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

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

A shot rang out.

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

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

You nearly died just then.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His opponent swallowed.

The game resumed.

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

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

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

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

Everyone was all in.

“Reveal your cards, if you please.”

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

All that was left were Changmin's.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So loud, that you almost missed it.

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

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

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

A muffled response in return.

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

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

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

Changmin grabbed you and booked it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yn, you better be fucking running.”

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

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

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

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

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

The weapon went sailing; that was his opening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was he dead?

“You're not dead.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hurt, you'd been so hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Changmin—”

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

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

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

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

“W.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I'm sorry if the kiss was too much.”

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

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

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

“Giddy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

tbz m.list

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agents-teen-patti-stars · 12 days

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porcelainseashore · 3 months

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Ghosts from the Past (5)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Agent! Leon Kennedy x Dancer! Informant! Fem! Reader

Summary: 7 years after leaving behind everything you’ve known, you’re suddenly thrust into facing a ghost from your past, Leon. Navigating where you stand with him brings up old memories, painful truths and countless questions. At the same time, you have to deal with a bunch of strange occurrences at your dance company. Set after Resident Evil 4 Remake.

Warnings: 18+ Swearing, Recreational Drug Use, Alcohol, Eventual Smut, No (Y/N), Canon-Typical Horror and Violence, Blood, Injury, Torture, Infection, Medical Experiments, Psychological Trauma, Nightmares

Content: Post-Resident Evil 4, Exes to Lovers, Partners to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Lack of Communication, Romance, Fluff

Author's Note: Smut content warning applies in this chapter. Leon and Reader have been dancing around each other long enough!

AO3 Link

Chapter 5: Unravel

You led Ada through the back entrance, where the staff and stage crew usually entered. It was locked as there was no performance today, but she had acquired the key, thanks to you. The door creaked open as you shuffled inside, welcomed only by the stagnant air and the warm rays of early afternoon light pouring into the musty rooms.

It was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. Weird. Even though it was an unofficial rest day, there would usually be a cleaner roaming the hallways or a dancer rehearsing in the studio.

As you followed the route you had memorized by heart, you noticed that Ada also seemed to know her way around the place. You felt her steps matching yours, anticipating right and left turns before they happened. At the first false wall, she surprised you by pulling on the lever hidden behind an ornamental vase.

“If you already know where to go, why am I even here?” You questioned suspiciously, as you continued down the secret passageway.

“Let’s say I like to cover all bases.” She gave you a cryptic smile. “To get what I really want.”

“Great,” you grumbled. “Another evasive one.”

She huffed, finding humor in your complaint. “Pity Silje doesn't know her favorite protégé is working against her.”

Was that a veiled threat? You swallowed hard as guilt seeped into your chest. This wasn’t how it was meant to be. You weren’t supposed to face Silje like this; you wouldn’t know how to look her in the eye after what you had done.

Ada noticed your hesitance. “Or are you having second thoughts?”

Your simmering anger had become palpable, but you held your tongue and looked away. She was just trying to get you to crack, you inwardly rationalized.

As you went from room to room, the labyrinthine pathways blended seamlessly into one another, as if you were going through the same sections again and again in circles. The only change was that the time it took to pass through the distance between them seemed to increase each round. It was like the space was growing from within, even though it was physically impossible. You assumed it was an illusory effect. Whichever architect who had designed this was a genius.

It was at this point where you witnessed a subtle change in Ada’s behavior. Her eyes darted around more frequently than usual, and every now and then, her lips pursed lightly, as if she were becoming agitated by the maze, and this wasn't what she had expected. Despite her poker face, perhaps she didn’t know her way around entirely after all.

When she paused to examine some markings on a wall, you seized the opportunity presented by her distraction to jam your hands into your back pocket. The zip ties cut into your wrists, but you finally managed to reach for the Swiss Army knife, flicking it open.

However, nothing could escape her watch, not to mention her lightning reflexes. Just as you were about to use it to break free, she knocked the knife out of your hands with ease. It clattered onto the ground, as you looked on defeatedly. You braced yourself for some sort of punishment to be dished out, but it never came.

“Bold,” she smirked. “Quite the rebel, aren’t you?”

It almost came across like she was impressed. Or was she mocking your feeble attempt at escaping?

“You know, we are more alike than you think,” she suggested. “Maybe that’s why he saw something in you.”

You glared at her in repugnance. There was no way in hell the two of you were even remotely similar, and that was not why Leon had loved you in the first place. At least that’s what you told yourself.

“I would never be like you,” you seethed.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” she responded nonchalantly. “Especially when given the right motivations.”

Your exchange was cut short, however, when from a distance, you heard hurried footsteps and heavy breathing. Ada quickly yanked you aside to hide behind a wall, covering your mouth with her gloved hand. As the footsteps drew closer, they slowed down. From the sound of delicate metal scraping against the floor, it seemed someone had discovered the knife you had left there. Shit, would you be caught now?

A split second later, you heard your name being called. Leon! He had come for you like he had said. Your cries in response were muffled by Ada’s grip tightening around your mouth, as she pulled you further away into the labyrinth, but her movements were slowed by your resistance. It was only a matter of time until Leon caught up.

“Give it up, Ada.”

He had his handgun aimed at her as she whipped around to face him. Although she no longer tried to dampen your voice, she still kept you in an ironclad hold, with no intention of letting go any time soon. Her words were coated with frustration. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“That’s not exactly in my dictionary.” He leaned in, focusing his laser sight to improve accuracy.

“You wouldn’t shoot me,” she asserted unwaveringly.

His expression faltered briefly, as if he were experiencing a strong case of déja vù, but he steeled himself again. “Test my patience and I just might.”

You felt Ada’s grasp on you shift. Oh, she was getting unnerved alright, and it felt like you had just entered unwittingly into an ex-lovers’ spat.

As you took in the sight of the room you were in, that’s when you recognized something from your memory: a trapdoor. You were coincidentally standing right above it on the carpeted floor, though you weren’t sure where it led to. In your quick assessment, it was a choice between this never-ending standoff and taking a chance by using the trapdoor as a distraction. You knew where the switch was. You just had to time it correctly.

During a pause in their heated discussion, you established eye contact with Leon. Synchronously, you inched your foot out, pressing it against the camouflaged wooden piece lying at the side, while yelling at him to take notice. In that instant, you and Ada whooshed through the opened door, tumbling into an obsidian pit, past a bunch of rocks with a faint, iridescent glow. You heard Ada’s gasp as she fiddled with her grapple gun, but the surfaces were too slippery to hook onto. It was a miracle that you managed to catch her by surprise.

You couldn’t tell how far down you were going. However, your fall soon ended with a thud on what resembled soft, black mud. Your body felt bruised and battered, but at least nothing was broken. From a shrill shriek that was emitted, you realized Ada hadn’t fared so well.

As your eyes adjusted to the dimness of your surroundings, you saw her lying on the ground, clutching at a sharp rock that had embedded itself within her leg. A loud yelp ripped through the air, as she pried out the object, causing streams of blood to ooze down the open gash. At that moment, another figure landed in, grunting as he broke his fall with cat-like grace.

A bright beam from his flashlight illuminated the area as Leon got up, dusting himself off. The key card, having come loose from Ada’s possession in the fall, lay between the two of you. Without a second thought, he nabbed it, barely casting a quick glance over his shoulder at her before heading towards you.

“You ok?” He asked, his voice laced with worry, as he cut off the zip tie. Wrapping an arm under your shoulders and around your waist, he lifted you to your feet.

“Yeah, just dazed,” you coughed out, rubbing the sore abrasions on your wrists while looking around.

“What about-” You stopped yourself as you observed the empty space behind him, where Ada had been just a minute ago. “She’s gone.”

He spun around in the direction you were staring at. “It’s what she does, I guess.” He shrugged, as if the same scene had repeated itself one too many times before.

However, his tone changed when he turned back to you, grabbing the lapel of your coat with a severe look in his eyes. “Don’t ever do that again!”

“What, you had a better idea than squabbling with your ex?” Your defensiveness kicked in at his scolding, and you pushed him off roughly.

“She’s not my- ugh!” He groaned, smacking his palm against his forehead. “Let’s just get out of here. I need to keep you safe.”

You bowed your head in agreement, deciding it was best not to go any further down the rabbit hole. Walking along beside him, both of you searched for a way to escape this uncanny underground place. The walls were covered in jagged rocks caked in a dark, greasy substance that glistened in the light, and the air was damp, causing drops of moisture to drip down from above. Occasionally, you heard small creatures scurrying around, but otherwise, everything else was as still as a dormouse.

“Do you think they’re growing something here?” You pointed at the wet matter leaking from the surfaces.

“I hope not,” Leon sighed. “Because this would be a lot more than we bargained for.”

He scraped a sample of it into a compact container, which came with a mini spatula similar to those found in laboratories, before placing it back into a pocket of his tactical pants.

Then, you heard a series of clunks coming from the corner, causing you to jump in fright. “What was that?”

He shone his flashlight towards the source and you saw a lone rope ladder swaying in the darkness. Its wooden cross beams were hitting the side of the wall, but there was no one on it.

“Hm.” He cracked a weak smile, shaking his head, like someone had eluded him in a game of hide-and-seek. “Our way out.”

Just as you neared the ladder, you felt a dull, throbbing ache spread throughout your head, causing you to come to a halt and clasp the wall to steady yourself. A child’s voice called your name from a distance, reverberating within your skull. As it faded away, you found Leon holding you with a distressed look on his face. “What’s going on? Are you ok?”

“I’m fine…” You shuddered, trying to get rid of that bizarre sensation you had felt earlier. “This place just gives me the creeps,” you reasoned.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he gave you another once-over before continuing. He helped you onto the ladder first, so that he could support you from behind in case anything happened. You began your ascent and noticed that the air became drier the higher you climbed.

Shortly after, you pulled yourself up into a dead-end tunnel with a hatch on its low ceiling. Leon lifted it open, looking around before giving you the all-clear. You were now in an unassuming storage room in the upper levels of the labyrinth. Just beyond that was the theater space.

“Huh. Guess this needs to be added to the blueprint,” you muttered.

There was some commotion going on outside of the room you were in. Looks like the people were back. Leon brought a finger to his lips to hush you, as he crouched and withdrew his gun from his holster. Opening the door quietly, he peeked through the narrow slit and waited until the noise subsided, before beckoning you to follow him. You assumed a similar stealthy position and sneaked out of the building.

When you were finally back out on the streets, the evening sky and crisp, wintry air greeted you. He led you to a stylish black motorcycle parked a few blocks away. Since when had he learnt how to ride one of these things?

“Courtesy of Hunnigan,” he explained, when he spotted your raised eyebrow. “Took a while. Red tape and all that.”

Bergmann, of course.

“Here’s the plan,” he began. “We’ll grab your stuff and then head to my place. I’ll watch over you until we can get you back to HQ tomorrow.”

“HQ?” You asked out of confusion.

“DC.”

“I know… but why?”

You weren’t told about any of this in advance and once again, you had more questions than answers.

“Trust me, it’ll be safer there while I finish this. I don’t want things to blow up, but you never know,” he clarified.

“Did Bergmann greenlight this?”

“No, we did.”

How did he manage to bypass your handler’s authority? You imagined her hitting the roof when she found out.

“And after what we saw down there, we need to get you screened. It’s part of the protocol,” he continued, before adding softly, “I’ll make sure they treat you well.”

“I-” You paused, trying to formulate an appropriate response to the information you had just been overloaded with. “You’re expecting me to leave everything behind?”

“Just temporarily, until the dust settles,” he reassured you. “Unless…” He trailed off, interrupting himself before he could complete the sentence.

“Unless?” You questioned.

“Never mind.” He handed you a spare helmet, gesturing for you to take the back seat. “Let’s go.”

As the engine revved to life, he turned to face you, and you swore you could make out his shit-eating grin behind the tinted visor of his helmet. “Hang on tight.”

Gingerly, you wrapped your arms around his waist, as he drove off into the night.

━━━━━━━━━━━

It didn't take long for you to pack your belongings, or rather, the bare essentials. You had never really accumulated much over the years. Nevertheless, there was a strange, almost surreal feeling in bidding farewell to your apartment for an indefinite period of time.

Upon reaching his place, Leon conducted a perimeter check and adjusted the security settings before allowing you to settle in.

“What if Ada comes back for the card?” You asked in passing.

“Doubt it,” he stated rather matter-of-factly. “She’ll need time to lick her wounds.”

“Right.”

After all the muck you had been dragged through, you decided to busy yourself by cleaning up in the bathroom. As you showered, it began to dawn on you that the grazes you had on your wrists from the zip tie was gone, and even though you were pretty certain that your ribs had been bruised from the fall, they were nowhere to be seen. Everything looked as immaculate as ever. Were you going crazy and imagining things? You chalked it up to the exceptional amount of stress you had been through in the last 24 hours.

Changing into your night slip, you made your way towards the living room while towel drying your hair. That’s when you caught sight of Leon holding the framed photo of the two of you during your college graduation, staring at it, seemingly oblivious that you were standing at the entrance in the hallway. He must have seen it when your backpack was left open while you were in the bathroom, but that didn’t give him the right to touch your stuff, especially when it started to stir up unwanted emotions within you.

“You still kept it, after all these years…”

Looks like he had been aware of your presence after all.

You didn’t respond, striding purposefully into the room, as you snatched the frame from him and chucked it back into your bag. “I should have just left it to rot,” you muttered out of spite.

“You don’t mean that.” Moving towards you, he curled his fingers under your chin, and tilted it to face him. “Here, you dropped something.” He took the Swiss Army knife out from his pocket and offered it to you.

But you remained motionless. “Keep it,” your voice quivered.

It’s just better this way. His remark from the bar about a week ago resounded in your ears.

Upon your rejection, his visage crumbled and gradually, you witnessed his cool, confident facade peel away to reveal something broken underneath. He appeared extremely worn down, as though he had been through a war zone. Blood and grime stained his shirt, and a purplish bruise was blooming on the side of his cheek.

“I’m tired. Just so tired…” he admitted under his breath, placing the knife on the table beside him. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?” You wondered out loud.

“Push you away,” he whispered.

You didn’t know what to make of his response. It was an answer, yet not exactly one. And that was driving you insane. So, you argued back with the only piece of information you had, even though you knew it was a low blow. “Yeah, well, maybe you should’ve thought about that before you brought Ada into the picture.”

Furrowing his brows in agitation, he let out a heavy sigh and exclaimed, “It’s not about Ada! It’s about you!”

This was the first time you had seen him so riled up, but his rage was infectious, and you used the energy to fight fire with fire. “Fuck you, Leon! Stop bullshitting me!” You shouted back. “I’m sick of you hiding things!”

“Ok, fine. No more secrets,” he conceded, understanding that you weren’t going to let him off this time. Not unless he wanted to lose you again for real. With this in mind, he decided to tell you what you wanted to know, despite the pain it would cause you.

“Ada and I… it happened in Raccoon City.”

Raccoon City? A searing fury took hold over you, as you realized what that meant.

“You moved on to her the day you left,” you mouthed in disbelief. “And I was the idiot who waited and grieved for you.”

Pointing at him accusingly, you sneered, “The best part about it is you weren’t even dead! You just didn’t care!”

At this, he slammed his fist on the table, raising his voice over yours. “That’s a goddamn lie and you know that!”

His face was red with indignation as he insisted, “I care… I’ve always cared.”

You scoffed and turned away from him, your eyes burning and watery, even though deep down you knew he was telling the truth. “Then, explain it to me!”

He was shaking. You couldn’t tell if it was due to fear or anger. “After you and I broke up, I just wanted someone who would understand what I had been through.”

A lump formed in his throat as he continued. “She saved my life a couple of times. And we… uh, we kissed.”

He looked at you with regret, simultaneously attempting to gauge your reaction to what he had divulged. But you stonewalled him.

“Yeah, I liked her. And in a way, I still do care for her, I guess,” he confessed. “But she wasn’t the person I thought she was. I don’t think she’ll ever be that person.”

“You can’t get over her, can you?” You stated bitterly.

“Already have,” he declared. “For a while now.”

“I don’t know how to trust you.” You wanted to, so badly. But after the emotional rollercoaster he had put you through, you were at a loss.

His eyes filled up in despair. It was as if your words had winded him and stabbed him in the gut.

“What I said after the club… it was out of guilt, and I didn’t want to get too close.” He paused for a moment to recollect himself. “I just- I… needed to protect you.”

“From what?” You quizzed. Is that why he didn’t come back?

He sucked in a deep breath, like what he was about to relay was something he would rather forget. “Raccoon City - it was hell.” He twisted his mouth in distaste. “Like Terragrigia… and the government covered it all up.”

You watched as his eyes glazed over, replaying the trauma he had suffered as if it were an old film loop. “Everyone died around me. I-I couldn’t do shit.”

A cynical laugh escaped him. “Some fucking cop I was.”

You began to understand why he had been so quiet about his past. The torment he had been putting himself through, the survivor’s guilt, the ravaged city, and the injustice of it all haunted him incessantly.

Instinctively, you took a couple of steps towards him, wanting to close the distance somehow, even though you were afraid of getting burnt again.

His features softened as he saw you draw nearer, though it transformed into a frown when he relived through another set of memories. “They made me work for them, because I knew too much, and-”

He paused, biting his tongue in an effort to restrain his anger. “In exchange for the life of a little girl.”

But his temper soon flared up again. “Those bastards dangled her like a fucking carrot in front of my face! What was I supposed to do?”

You flinched at his outburst and he eyed you apologetically, dropping his head in shame. “I didn’t know who I could turn to. I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

“Leon…” You reached out, ghosting your fingers along the side of his arm.

He didn’t pull away this time, but he couldn’t bear to look at you, afraid of what you might think of him. “Not a day goes by where I don’t feel like it should’ve been me who died down there.”

“I thought about ending it,” he continued. “But you wanted me to remember I am a good person. That I would do the right thing. And I knew it was to keep going.”

You didn’t judge him. You accepted him as how he was, including all the pain and flaws. In front of you was the boy you had left behind 7 years ago - scared, helpless and alone. And so, you took the plunge, gathering him into your arms as you comforted him.

“Leon, it’s ok.” He leaned into your embrace like he had been starved of contact for a long time. “I’m here. You’re ok,” you reassured him.

“I didn’t want to drag you into this, but they got to you anyway,” he sighed into your hair, cradling your waist firmly against him, as though he was unwilling to let you go.

“Every night, I dream of you… dying,” he choked. “And I can’t- I… can’t save you.”

You should have seen this coming: him not wanting you to get involved, pushing you away, and his whole savior complex - just to protect you from the inevitable. As for Ada, you would never be able to change how he felt about her. Yet, in a way, you understood why he chose you in the end. And maybe, for now, that was enough.

“You don’t have to bear this burden on your own, you know,” you mentioned, caressing the back of his head tenderly.

“I’m a fucking mess, you deserve-”

God, he could be so stubborn sometimes. “Leon,” you interrupted.

Cupping the sides of his face in your hands, you looked him straight in the eye. “I chose this life, ok? And I’m choosing right here, right now, that I want to be with you. To hell and back.”

His gaze widened as he took in what you said. “Like you promised.”

A wave of nostalgia washed over you, as a distant memory from your teenage years flooded your mind, transporting you back to the bleachers of your high school football field. Both of you had sat there together in the dead of winter, and you told him that you would be there for him. To hell and back.

You smiled wistfully. “Yeah, like I promised, dumbass.”

With that, he pressed his lips against yours fervently, devouring your mouth in a stream of torrid kisses, wet and sloppy, like he was trying to make up for lost time. Pushing you up against the nearest wall, he teased your lips with his tongue and you parted them, allowing him easy entrance as you let out a soft, heady moan. He deepened the kiss, swirling his tongue against yours fiercely, unable to get enough of you.

“Fuck, baby, I missed you,” he murmured breathlessly when he came up for air amid the waves of kisses.

Baby. You shivered in pleasure, hearing his pet name for you for the first time after years of being apart. “I missed you too.”

“Please, let me take care of you,” he pleaded, securing a hand on your hip, as he slowly reached the other under your night slip, trailing it up your inner thigh, between your legs.

As you felt his fingertips brush against your clit through your underwear, you ground your hips forward subconsciously, desperate for his touch. Both of you were diving in headfirst even though things were still raw, but something about this felt right and you didn’t want to wait anymore. You claimed his lips again briefly, before encouraging him to go further.

Dragging his wet tongue along your neck and down across your body, he knelt in front of you, bunching up the hem of your slip and hooking his fingers into the side of your underwear to strip it off. You closed your eyes as you felt his hot breath against your pussy, gasping as he ran his tongue through your glistening folds, lapping and sucking it eagerly.

“Mm… I could never get tired of how you taste,” he groaned huskily, before tracing circles with his tongue on your clit.

You chewed on your bottom lip, a smile breaking out at his compliment, as you recalled how vocal he - and you - could be during sex. He spread your legs wider and hiked one of them over his shoulder for better access, dipping his tongue into your slit, as your juices and his saliva trickled down your thighs. Tangling your hands in his hair, you gave in to the tingling sensations that rippled through your body.

He continued thrusting his tongue into you relentlessly, while stroking your clit with his thumb. “Shit, oh god-” you whined, grasping frantically at the wall behind you. “That feels so good.”

Burying his face further into your mound, he tried to bring you closer to the edge, as you felt a familiar knot in your belly tightening with every lick, suck and kiss. You bucked your hips, riding his face feverishly as you chased after your orgasm. Soon, it came crashing down, and you arched your back off the wall, wailing in rapture, while your thighs clenched around his head.

The high melded into a feeling of warm, viscous honey, as he caught you in an embrace when you slumped over, dizzy and panting.

“I got you, baby,” he cooed, rubbing your back soothingly, as he held you up. “That’s it.”

His pillowy lips, moist with your arousal, captured yours in a tender kiss. When he broke away, you nuzzled his neck gratefully, part of you still contemplating if this was real.

“I don’t want to let you go,” your voice came out muffled, as you burrowed yourself deeper into his neck, inhaling the scent of his cologne and sweat. Despite the blood and dirt, he smelled as you remembered him, of fresh citrus and musk, with a hint of cedar.

“You have me,” he promised, planting another delicate kiss on your cheek, soft like raindrops on a rose petal in the morning. “Always.”

You locked eyes with him, drowning in the pool of his blue irises, which were burning with desire for more. Scooping you up into his strong arms, he carried you out, past the hallway to the bedroom and placed you down on the mattress. He tugged off his clothes before helping you out of your slip, casually discarding it onto the floor.

His breath hitched as he admired the way you lay there, naked and wanting, completely vulnerable for him. Crawling on top of you, he bent down, leaving a string of open mouthed kisses from your neck to your breast.

“So beautiful,” he hummed, flicking his tongue against your nipple, before taking it into his mouth and suckling it. Letting it go with a pop, he claimed, “You haven’t changed one bit.”

“Mm, neither have you.”

His huff turned into a low moan as you wrapped your fingers around his fully erect cock, the tip red with need and leaking of precum. You pumped its shaft languidly as he rutted into your fist, growing impatient to feel more of you.

“Fuck- I want to be inside of you,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

You nodded, grazing your fingers against his lips as he slipped them into his mouth, sucking on them hard. The next instant, he flipped you over, sitting on his knees behind you as he splayed your legs on either side of him, pulling your back flush against his chest. He held your hip in one hand while using his other to guide his cock towards your entrance. You whimpered as you sank down onto him, a raw burst of pleasure flooding your brain as he filled you up. Nestled in his lap, you fit him perfectly like a glove.

He gave you a moment to adjust to the intrusion before setting a slow, sensual pace, stretching you out deeply with each thrust. You rocked your hips back into him, like a bitch in heat, unable to control the lewd sounds that came from your throat.

Squeezing your breasts, he rose to his knees, lifting you up along with him, as he picked up the speed. He nipped at your neck, licking and sucking on it to mark you as his. You could already feel a red welt forming on its surface.

“You like that?” He asked.

“Ah- yes! Please, Leon,” you gasped, trembling as you moved in sync to his rhythm more vigorously.

He chuckled at your reaction, “Only I can make you feel this good, huh?”

“Yes,” you professed, surrendering yourself entirely. “Only you.”

Upon hearing your admission, he growled with lust and fucked up into you harder. “Look at you,” he whispered in your ear, turning you in the direction of the wardrobe mirror that faced the bed. “Taking me so well.”

Through half-lidded eyes, you saw yourself, almost unrecognizable, in the reflection. Your face was flushed, body slick with sweat, and your nipples were hard and swollen from his teasing. A rosy hue had spread across your ass from his thrusting.

He was amping up the dirty talk. But it only served to turn you on even more.

In the heat of the moment, you rasped, “Ruin me.”

You felt his cock twitch inside of you as soon as you uttered it. Craning your neck to meet his gaze, you asserted, “Make me so no one else will ever want me.”

God, where was all that filth coming from? You even surprised yourself.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he cursed loudly. His eyes reflected a voracious look of hunger that seemed to consume the very space between you. “You’re gonna make me cum like this, baby.”

He brought a hand up to your throat, straightening you out against him even further as he slammed his cock roughly into your pussy. Wet slaps filled the room, his balls hitting against your clit repeatedly, while you clung tightly to his grip. You tilted your head backwards, resting it against his shoulder as you cried, “Yes, yes, oh fuck- Leon!”

Suddenly, he pulled out of you and threw you onto your back, causing you to whine from the loss of contact. He hoisted your ankles over his shoulders, giving them a quick kiss before leaning his weight onto you and folding your knees to your chest.

You let out a strangled cry as he penetrated you from this new angle, stimulating the sensitive spot along the walls of your aching cunt. “God, you’re so fucking good for me,” he grunted through labored breaths, already feeling himself coming close.

“Don’t stop,” you begged, clawing at his wrists which caged you in beside your head.

He railed you mercilessly into the mattress, causing the headboard to bang against the bedroom wall with each sharp thrust. It felt as if he was releasing all his pent-up emotion and compensating for every moment he had spent without you in the past.

As you reached your climax, your walls tightened around his cock and your eyes rolled back, while you screamed his name in ecstasy. All you could see was a blinding white light, with every muscle in your body tensing and your toes curling in response, as he rode you through it.

The sight of you tipped him over the edge and his pace stuttered. His face twisted in pleasure as he called out your name over and over, spurting thick ropes of his hot seed into your cunt. He continued to roll his hips forward gently in waves, taking a while to come down from his high.

Caressing your cheek affectionately, he placed a lingering kiss on your lips, before pulling out of you and dropping to your side. A mixture of both of your fluids stained his pelvis and your thighs as proof of what had transpired. It dripped onto the sheets like a bleeding sign.

As you listened to each other’s heartbeats and breathing in the calm silence, Leon took your hand in his, interlacing your fingers together.

“Stay with me,” he proposed again, wiping the slate clean of your rejection 7 years ago.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you turned towards him, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. It was at that moment you observed a distinct, indented scar adorning his left shoulder, serving as a ragged reminder of a past ordeal. You traced the outline of it with your fingers, while he held your hand close and kissed the white of your knuckles.

“I still love you,” he affirmed.

You knew that tonight wasn't the sole solution to all the problems you still had to work through together. But it was a start, and you were willing to give it another shot.

This time, it can be different. You covered his hands in yours, bringing them to your lips, as you spoke, “I’ll stay.”

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