#blue collar humor | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bitch-for-bo · 25 days ago

Text

"How Do Ya Like Me Now?" Tsundere Cowboy! Sukuna x chubby reader

All-size, friendly but written w a plus-size woman in mind.

Guys please humor me and listen to the song “How do you like me now” by Toby Keith b4 u read this because that’s the song that started my fever dreams about Tsundere Cowboy! Sukuna that bullied you in school cuz he was so in love with you until you left for college. But now ur back in town for a stupid reunion, and you’re different and he’s EVEN MORE different. He knows EXACTLY what he wants now ;)

this is a loooooooooong one.... enjoy if you dare ;)'

MINORS DNI!!!!! true form Sukuna but make him a sexy cowboy

It didn’t start here. Under the low lights, inside of a seedy, smoke-filled bar where he caught you trying to drown yourself in tequila and limes. No, it never starts in a place like that. It started years ago, back when you knew where your life was going, when you knew what you wanted and nothing would stop you from getting it. And nothing DID stop you from achieving your dreams. Here you were, not only a major success in your desired field but also voted the most successful superlative for your stupid high-school reunion.

THAT is where it all started. High school. And no not in the lame “the one who got away” way, it was in the whole “the one who tortured you half to death until you finally escaped to college” way.

See, you were always the perfect one, the valedictorian small-town, big-dreams sweetheart, and he was just the aloof, destined-blue-collar-worker-to-be boy with a mysterious vendetta to make your life absolute hell.

And he was successful to a fault. You remembered the countless times that he spray painted your number on the football field, writing “call for a good time ;)” under it with the singular goal of directing disgusting calls towards your voicemail to the point you changed your number more than once to avoid harassment.

To be fair, that was the worst of it, the majority only being psychological torture within the walls of the school. Stealing your homework answers, spreading rumors of either your lack of OR surplus of sexual encounters (all of which were completely fabricated and designed to drive good guys away from you and bad ones towards), and just your general bully activities.

And while things never got physical, sometimes you wish they would’ve. At least then you would’ve been able to provide some kind of evidence to the authorities. At least then they’d take you seriously, instead of shrugging you off, unconcerned because it didn’t impact your performance in school.

And of course it didn’t help that to everyone else, he was a perfect gem. It seemed like he was a gentleman to everyone BUT you.

And it wasn’t like you COULDN’T see the appeal back then, he was tall, strong, and good looking by all means. But the only thing you were focused on was school. Being raised by the parents you had was all the motivation you needed to push yourself, achieve, and get the hell outta dodge as soon as graduation ended.

So THAT’S where it began. And for all intents and purposes that's where YOU thought it ended. What you didn’t know was that he had MUCH different plans.

See while you hadn’t thought of Sukuna at all in the last 10 years, he couldn’t stop thinking of you. Especially since every Friday night he’d sit at the bar and listen to your old man rant about you and your life choices, moving away from him and your mother, pursuing your passions, cutting them out of your life almost completely.

He couldn’t say he blamed you for doing so, he knew the kind of violent man your father was, seeing as he had the same Friday night plans as Sukuna for the last 15 years of your life. It seemed like they both were ashamed at how they treated you.

He was of course ashamed of how he’d treated you during the hormonal days of his youth. All of the torture he put you through, all because he didn’t know how to properly handle his feelings towards you.

And of course that was no proper excuse for how he treated you, especially considering that he was perfectly cordial to everyone else back then. But back then, he genuinely had no other way of getting your attention. Or at least that’s what he told himself back then, every time he caught you crying behind the bathrooms at the football games, your phone ringing with what he could only imagine were disgusting calls from disgusting men.

So that’s why, when he heard that you were actually going to attend the 10-year reunion of your high school class he knew he wouldn’t let his second chance go.

He’d had a lot of time to think about how he’d apologize to you. But unfortunately, the second he saw you step into the poorly decorated high school gym, his well-intentioned plan of genuinely apologizing was immediately overshadowed by all of his feelings towards you that he’d repressed over the years.

And suddenly he was back to his old self, thinking of any way to embarrass you as you walked around, conversing with people you hadn’t seen for the last decade.

He couldn’t identify the feeling that crawled up his body as he watched you. You were so much more gorgeous than he could’ve ever imagined. Was it jealousy? No… it couldn’t be.

Why would he be jealous of the people talking to you? Why would he want to see your eyes crease as you laughed at their jokes? He could make you laugh harder, he knew he could.

It couldn’t be jealousy…. If it were jealousy he would’ve simply interjected himself into your conversation and whisked you away to the corner of the room, to have you all for himself.

But he didn’t. Instead, he picked up a beer from one of the many ice-filled coolers lining one of the gym walls and sauntered off to make his OWN conversations with his OWN people. Obviously not giving you a singular second thought.

And while Sukuna was on one side of the gym, working very hard on not giving you a second thought, you were on the other side, actually not giving Sukuna a second thought.

You hadn’t seen your former bully yet, and you were better for it. It was actually one of the things that almost made you skip out on the reunion tonight, but you’d thankfully been convinced by a former classmate who told you that you’d been voted most successful.

Seeing as your classmates took their time to acknowledge your success, the least you could do was show up and hold some light conversation for an hour or so.

So you made your way to the reunion, and honestly… you’d been having a great time. Talking about your career and accomplishments with your former classmates, and listening to them talk about theirs in return was actually great.

Sometimes in your field, it was easy to forget the outside world, you were so busy all of the time that you rarely got to just relax and have fun chatting with people with different jobs than you, living lives differently from yours. It was amazing, you felt recharged.

You were smiling, laughing at a story told by one of the football players in your class, not missing the way his eyes kept darting downwards to linger on your chest. Not missing the subtle way he angled his body closer to yours, his tongue wetting his lips each time you laughed.

You were on a high. You felt unstoppable. But of course…. All good things end.

You were just by the coolers, getting the two of you a second round of drinks when you felt someone step a little too close to you.

“Good to see you're still getting along so well with the football team.”

You froze at the snarky, drawling voice of Sukuna who stood behind you, letting himself drink in the sight of your ass, looking quite grabbable as you were bent down over the coolers. His fingers itched to reach out and grasp your hips, feel the softness squish between them, instead they tightened their grip on his beer. What was this… his 5th? 6th? Who knows.

You straightened your spine, becoming aware of the position you were in, realizing just how vulnerable it made you.

“You’re drunk Sukuna.” you bite out, turning on your heel to face him, trying to hide your shock as you realized he’d grown even taller after high school, your eyes a bit below his chin, leaving you eye-to-neck with him. You quickly sidestepped him, doing anything to put a respectable amount of space between the two of you.

Your quick avoidance coupled with your accusation made him scoff, Sukuna wasn’t a small man, standing at 6’4”ish 270 pounds give or take, it took more than half a dozen beers to get him any further than buzzed, especially considering that drinking had been in his weekly Friday night plans for the last 15 years.

You rolled your eyes, trying to leave. He stepped into your way, effectively cutting you off, making it your turn to scoff.

“If I say I’m trashed will you walk me home?” he asked teasingly, his wolfish grin reminding you just how timeless his charm really was. If you were a woman of any weaker resolve you would’ve played along.

But this was Sukuna.

And as much as you’d love to play catch up and subject yourself to guaranteed ridicule, you had a different good-looking man waiting for your attention, and for another drink. Was he as good-looking as the tanned cowboy in front of you who had not only gotten taller but definitely hotter with age? Who cares? The important part was that the man waiting for you didn’t nearly single-handedly ostracize you from your peers whilst shredding your good reputation with teachers and parents alike when you were just a child.

And that’s what it was at the end of the day. Sukuna could grin down at you all he wanted, his reddish brown eyes burning holes in your face, looking for any exploitable weakness he could find. But at the end of the day, you were a strong, confident woman now. Not the poor young girl you used to be. You didn’t have to put up with his shit anymore- no you refused to put up with his shit.

“Hmm…I dunno…” you said, giving him a tight-lipped smile, hoping an aloof tone would force him to leave you be. “Hell is a pretty long walk.”

That must’ve taken Sukuna by surprise, or at least enough surprise that it allowed you to slip past him. It wasn’t until you were a couple steps away did he respond with a deep laugh, one that came from his, and went straight to your core.

“Everything ok?” your slightly less hot prospect asked upon your return, you only nodded, hoping that the warmth you felt on your face hurriedly left as you handed him his refill.

“Just pe-”

“Hey. I wasn’t done talking to you.” Sukuna appeared again behind you.

Your smile fell again as you watched the two men greet each other.

As mentioned earlier, Sukuna was always good friends with seemingly everyone but you. That’s what made him so dangerous in high school, no matter who you told of his abuse you were never believed. And who would believe you whenever the boy you were accusing had such a dazzling smile and an equally agreeable disposition?

Sukuna watched you out of the corner of his eye as you zoned out, uninterested in the conversation between him and your one-night boy toy. You were shifting from foot to foot, uncomfortable with his presence.

It was obvious to him, unfortunately not to your conversation partner though, seeing as he continued to talk Sukuna’s ear off, asking about how things were on the ranch, how his business was going, how much he charged per cow, all while you shuffled your gaze from your feet to your drink to the wall then back to your feet.

A small part of Sukuna took a sick satisfaction in bothering you like this, bothering you in a way that if you acted out, accused him of instigating, or even spoke slightly ill of him, people would no doubt see you as the one in the wrong.

But his sickly favorite thing… truly the best way to put a smile on his face… was to embarrass you. That’s why he effortlessly steered the conversation back to you, specifically back to the fact you’d been talking to the same person for the last hour, specifically that it was a man you’d been talking to.

All it took was one little quip, one little “so I see you’re back for part two with the whole football team?” to freeze you like a deer caught in headlights.

You remembered that rumor, undoubtedly started by Sukuna, the rumor that you’d offered yourself to the high school football team in their locker room, the rumor that they (emphasis on they) had accepted your advances, and that’s why you had bruises trailing up your spine when you reached for a book on the top shelf, making your shirt ride up. And bruises on your knees when you wore your gym shorts. And bruises on your elbows when you rested your head on your hands during class.

And with that one little comment, it was like you’d been sucked back in time, especially when your potential one-night-of-fun laughed along with Sukuna, doing nothing to admit that the rumor was fake and he knew it.

Sukuna snickered, watching your eyes widen and your mouth drop open in surprise at the cruel reminder of perhaps his most regretted rumor ever. But while on the outside he laughed as your eyebrows knitted together and your cheeks darkened with humiliation, he kicked himself on the inside.

This wasn’t how he was supposed to get your attention tonight. What the fuck was wrong with him bringing up all of his past mistakes? Yeah he wanted to watch you squirm under his gaze, but not like this, not by bringing up all of the ways he used to torture you.

And it’s not like anyone at the reunion would put him in his place, he’d spend years building the reputation of the handsome, harmless, good-ole-boy ranch hand.

And you knew that too. No one would be on your side if you spoke up. You couldn’t even blame them. This was the first time you’d talked to ANY of them in the last decade, unlike Sukuna who’d stuck around the small town, building allyships with nearly everyone.

Without a word, you turned and left. Leaving your ruined prospect stumbling over himself saying it was “just a joke” as you calmly threw your drink away and began to exit the building. As you walked through the door, you looked back once more, catching Sukuna’s eye.

You hoped he could see the disappointment on your face, the hurt, and embarrassment that you thought you would’ve been able to escape by now.

And for a second, you were convinced that he regretted the comment, but then again, the look on his face was just too fleeting for you to decipher its meaning before you walked to your car, not looking back again.

That’s how you found yourself at the run-down bar that your father frequented. Thankfully he wasn’t here tonight, but that still didn’t ease the tension in your shoulders. But you’d decided that the need to get shit-faced off cheap tequila far outweighed your fear that your father would suddenly walk into the place.

The bartender asked what was wrong when he watched you down two shots, back to back, but he quickly lost interest when you just grumbled profanities under your breath all of which were aimed at Sukuna.

Fuck you hated him. You hated the way he made you feel like you were still that bullied little girl from high school, crying in the bathroom after hearing a rumor about you fucking the math teacher for an A in the hallways.

You hated the way everyone else just worshiped the ground he walked on, just because he had a nice smile and a banging body.

and fuck it really wasn’t fair how hot he was.

Once you were 3 shots deep you could feel most of your anger dissipating, and while the other patrons in the bar were thankful to be rid of your gloomy aura weighing the place down, you were fighting the good fight against the horny demons that had begun reminding you just how much Sukuna towered over you earlier that night.

You knew he was a ranch hand, and obviously, ranch hands have to be physically fit… but goddamn was he on another level. He looked like he could flip and fix a truck just to lift you in and fuck you in it.

He looked like he could ride a bull, wrestle it, and hog-tie it down before taking you to bed and doing damn near the same thing to you. Thick fingers gripping your thighs as he forced you to ride him, hissing at you through his teeth to roll your hips against him, letting your clit grind against what you could only imagine was an unruly bush. You imagined him flipping you over, trapping your hands behind your back as he pounded into you, forcing your face into his pillow, forcing you to feel, smell, and even taste his scent all around you.

Your head snapped up from its drunken position on the counter, sheepishly glancing around to make sure no one saw you, convinced that if they so much as looked at you, they would see your dirty thoughts about their town’s golden boy.

Sukuna watched you wave down the bartender from his position at the door. He wanted to act like he didn’t know you’d be here. He wanted to pretend that he didn’t drive around town for the last twenty minutes looking for your little car with your fancy out-of-state plates because that would be an insane thing to do.

But that's what he’d done, that's what you’d driven him to do.

His eyes followed you like a hawk as he stalked towards you, watching with the focus of a predator on prey as you took your shot, licking the salt off your hand, throwing back the shot, and biting into the lime. His eyes zeroed in on your lips wrapped around the lime wedge, your nose scrunching at the combination of burning liquor and sour lime.

Your eyes were screwed shut, trying to drive the thoughts of the cowboy out of your head, so you didn’t notice Sukuna’s presence til he opened his big fat mouth and spoke to the bartender, ordering a shot for himself.

“Kinda girlie ordering a shot isn’t it?” you scoffed, your eyes still shut as you let your head fall back into your arms that were slung across the counter. You didn’t have anything left in you to deal with the abrasive man next to you. In fact, you were afraid if you looked at him now he’d be able to see just how much you wanted him.

His body, to be clear. You only wanted his body. There was a reason you’d spent time chatting up that old football player before the whole fiasco happened, you were looking for a little fun as a reward for showing up to that god-forsaken reunion in the first place.

But alas, just as he did in high school, Sukuna drove your potential plaything away from you, leaving you hot, bothered, and as of now, a bit more than buzzed.

Sukuna just grinned at you, taking your acknowledgment as an invitation to move closer. He turned away from the counter, crossing his arms and leaning back against the bar, turning his head to watch you amusedly.

You tried your best to ignore him, but you couldn’t deny the warmth radiating off of him, not to mention the spicy scent of his cologne.

You bit your lip, trying to stop your imagination from getting away from you again.

“You think I’m girlie, Doll?” he asked, the rumble of his voice making your stomach twist.

“well its a girlie fucking drink.” you mumbled, not even lifting your head to glare at him.

“Tell you what Doll,” Sukuna drawled, leaning down to talk in your ear, pressing his lips to the outer shell of your ear, “say the word, and I’ll take you home and prove that I’m not.”

And despite the way you felt your heartbeat against the seat of your barstool, you kept your composure and offered him another unimpressed scoff, grateful his lips weren’t against your neck to feel the blood rushing to your face.

“God you’re a prick” you growled, pushing your head back up, turning to look at him, wondering if, in your drunken state, you were convincing him that you were “bored” with his banter.

In reality, you were ashamed to admit you wanted more. You could feel the fire burning in your tummy and you were too intoxicated to listen to the voice in your head telling you that it was a bad idea to do this with your present company.

“You’re beautiful, Doll,” Sukuna whispered, his eyes fixated on your lips, swollen from the way you’d been chewing on them all night trying to repress your dirty thoughts.

It was pathetic, but this was the only time Sukuna felt he could be honest with you. He felt like he could finally tell you how he felt but only because of the security of knowing the booze had created a rose-colored veil over his words in your memory.

He wished he could be this sincere with you when you were sober. But when you were sober, all you did was stare into his soul, your eyes piercing him, weighing him down with guilt.

“Shut the fuck up.” You spat at him. You didn’t know where the fuck that came from but you weren’t interested in finding out. If this went anywhere tonight two things had to be true.

It had to be a good old no-strings-attached hate-fuck.

You had to be at least 1 shot drunker to have the courage to do it.

The bartender set Sukuna’s shot down in front of him as you angrily avoided eye contact with him, pissed that he’d even dare to say some shit like that after what he pulled at the reunion.

“I hate you.” you threw that one in for good measure, reveling in the way it made the corners of Sukuna’s mouth turn down.

He knew you had every reason to hate him, if he were you he’d feel a lot more than hate towards someone like him. And yet still, the way that you said it, like there was no room for debate, like it was fact, not opinion, that got to him.

“Yeah I know,” he mumbled, taking his shot before fully turning towards you. “But I need you to listen to what I have to say.”

This was it. He was going to come clean. Apologize for everything he’d done, ask for your forgiveness, beg for it if that’s what he had to do.

You rolled your eyes, but you kept your mouth closed, intrigued at the very least at what he had to say for himself.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you. It wasn’t right.”

You stared at him.

He stared at you.

“That’s it?”

“Huh?”

You stood from your seat, now standing face to neck with Sukuna.

“You're pathetic.” you bit out, gathering your purse and calling to close out your tab. The apology was not only disappointing but also disgustingly sobering. An hour ago you wanted to ride him til he cried, now all you wanted to do was get the fuck out of town as quickly as possible.

All of it would be better once you went back to your life, that’s what you kept repeating to yourself as you tried to blink back tears. You tried waving down the bartender again, but he was busy serving other patrons.

The stuffy, humid air of the bar was suddenly unbearable as fury settled in your chest.

Sukuna grabbed your wrist.

“Fuck- Doll just wait a second.” His fingers gripped your arm, pulling you back towards him.

You stopped yourself from colliding with his chest, pressing balled-up fists to his chest as you looked up.

“please…” the word came from him almost like a whimper, his fingers searching for a way to keep you from leaving, one hand stilling your hip as the other tangled in your belt loops, ensuring you couldn’t just run away from him.

And while you definitely couldn’t have escaped him physically, the pleading tone of his voice was enough to widen your eyes and stop you from even trying.

His eyes darted away from yours when you looked up at him, anger and hurt and disgust swimming in your eyes, making his stomach turn and his jaw ache.

He didn’t know what to look at, his eyes shooting from your lips to the crowd to your fists on his chest, back to your lips set in a hard line, no sign of wobble detected. He could tell you were over it. He was running out of time, he had to find some way to keep you here. To keep you with him.

You rolled your eyes, did he really expect you to take him seriously when he couldn’t even meet your gaze. Once again, pathetic.

“I’m….I’m…” What was happening to him? He got it out fine the first time, it was a bit of a quick and sloppy apology he admits, but he still did it. So why was he struggling now?

You could tell with the way he fidgeted, his face turning beet red, that he was trying to say sorry but the sad bastard couldn’t even do that right. You wondered if he’d ever had to apologize to anyone seeing as he’d been Mr. Prince Charming since birth. If you were being honest, that idea made you really happy. The idea that you were the only person that could fluster him like this, make him uncomfortable with just a stare.

“Are you trying to say you’re sorry?” You scoff, making the Sukuna’s blush spread to his ears.

He was seriously losing this fight, and that was all he could think about. He wished he could just put you in his mind and let you see all of the thoughts that been plaguing him for the last 15 years of his life, the bitterness and jealousy and insecurity that lead him to bully you, he wished he could explain that teasing you was his awful way of showing you that he was obsessed with you. And he knew that wasn’t an excuse and he didn’t want to make it seem like it was, he just wanted to explain himself so that you’d know that he regretted it every single day of his life, and how he wanted more than anything in the universe to spend the rest of his life making it up to you. He wanted to grovel, to keep you locked away until you caved in and let him stand by your side for the rest of your days. He wanted to be able to buy you flowers to put on your kitchen counter in your dream home that he’d build for you. He wanted to cook you dinner every night, grinning as you ate it with a smile, even if he’d tried a new recipe that didn’t turn out the best. He wanted to do the dishes with you when it was dark outside, bumping shoulders as you washed and he dried, or he washed and you dried. He wanted to take you out dancing every Friday, show your old man that you escaped the life he tried to trap you in, that you’d found someone to worship the ground you walked on, that loved and respected you in a way he could never imagine.

All of these thoughts swarmed his brain and yet all he could do was stand there and sputter like an idiot, watching you lose faith that he could actually spit it out by the second. He knew if he didn’t hurry up and get his shit together you’d walk away, and you wouldn’t ever come back this time.

“It’s not that easy ya know?” he grumbled, removing his hat to run a hand through his hair nervously.

And while you knew you probably shouldn’t have, you let your eyes linger on his bicep as he raised his beaten cowboy hat, the contours of the muscles highlighted under the lowlights of the bar.

Thankfully Sukuna didn’t see your moment of weakness, because if he had you doubt he would’ve winced as hard as he did when you delivered your next line of,

“The fuck it is. You made my life unlivable for four years and now it’s ‘not that easy’ to stop choking on your big fat tongue and apologize properly? Bullshit” You rolled your eyes but, much to Sukuna’s surprise, made no move to walk away from him, allowing him to continue to tether himself to your side, his fingers instinctively tightening in your belt loops.

“What do you want me to do, I said I’m sorry,” he grumbled, avoiding your eyes once again.

“Well it wasn’t good enough” you growled, surprised that you were somehow still standing, even with the way his eyes bore into you before flickering down to your lips, making you incredibly self-aware, fighting the urge to run away, to kick and scream, to fight, to do anything but stand in the confines of his gaze.

Sukuna was quiet for what felt like forever for the both of you. He searched for the words to say, and in the ever so emotionally constipated fashion, came up dry each time. Why was this so hard for him? He knew exactly what he wanted to say to you, god he wished he could just touch your foreheads together and transfer it all so you’d finally know how he felt.

And while Sukuna, lost in thought, might not have noticed the way he was inching closer to you, you definitely did.

And don’t think you were spared of any inner turmoil, because while Sukuna was standing like a dope, fighting the good fight against his own thoughts and emotions, you had your own battle to engage in. Your voice of reason was screaming at you to run, to slap him and storm off, to not let him have the satisfaction of forgiveness but the damned horny monster was making its way to the surface, scratching and clawing its way to the top so it could convince you to stay.

‘Why waste the chance for a taste?’ it whispered in your mind, reminding you that this was your last night in town and Sukuna was undoubtedly the hottest possible man you could spend it with. You didn’t have to forgive him, use him, abuse him, leave him. Be gone forever, make him regret treating you that way, less than human. Treat him the same way, like he was just a tool at your disposal.

You were ashamed to admit how appealing that choice was. But could anyone blame you? You’d suffered at his hands for far longer, what would one night be in the grand scheme of things? If anything it’d give you some closure. Give you the power of knowing that you came out of this feud on top.

But of course, as earlier stated, you’d need to be at least one shot deeper.

Sukuna’s eyes found yours again when you cleared your throat, somehow looking down your nose at him despite the fact he still stood at 6’4” which was quite a bit taller than you.

“I need a shot.”

He continued staring, obviously confused at the near 180 of the conversation, that was until you cleared your throat, giving him ONE last chance to move his ass out of the way and lead you back to the bar, and that’s what he did, watching as you flagged down another shot for yourself, telling the bartender to put it on his tab.

“So…” you drawled, feigning boredom as you let yourself drink him in properly for the first time that night, taking your time as you dragged up and down his body, only flicking up to his face at the very end.

You almost smiled at the blush painting his cheeks, it was cute. You could tell he was nervous, squirming at the way you looked at him unabashedly.

Don’t get him wrong, Sukuna was ecstatic you were checking him out, in fact, he was hoping it could keep you distracted until he could come up with a half-intelligent sentence to say.

But his luck seemed to be running dry that night.

“If I were you I’d hurry up before my shot comes and I get bored.”

This time you let yourself grin at the way he started fumbling with himself, spitting out a couple of pathetic ‘umm… ya see’s before squeezing his eyes shut, taking a deep breath to regain himself.

When he opened his eyes, you were a bit surprised by the heat behind them, by the sincerity of what came out of his mouth next.

“I understand why you don’t wanna hear me out Doll, I don’t need you to forgive me right now, but I need you to know that I’m sorry. And I need you to know that I regret the way I’ve treated you, and I’ll always regret it”

If Sukuna was a confident man at that moment (which he uncharacteristically wasn’t) he would’ve smirked or maybe even commented on the way that your eyes widened, softening slightly at his more soft-spoken apology. But all he could do was look down at the scratched bar counter while his stomach twisted in knots, waiting for the green light from you to continue his groveling.

You were shocked, to say the least, the sincerity in his voice was enough to make you believe that this wasn’t some twisted way of embarrassing you.

And in the quiet of it all, the bartender slid your shot towards you, lime resting over the top. You thanked them, pulling the salt shaker you’d formerly abandoned back towards you as you stared at Sukuna’s side profile under your lashes. You wished he was brave enough to look back up at you. But then again, did you? Did you really want him seeing you this way? Softened by his sincerity? You could only assume that apologizing wasn’t in his usual routine, especially not with how poorly he’d done it the first two times. But something about that last time, something about the way he couldn’t look you in the face now, made you feel like it was the real deal. That he might actually regret what he’d done to you.

Did that mean you forgave him?

Fuck no.

“Look at me.”

Sukuna looked up like a lost puppy, brows knitting together as soon as he saw that glint in your eyes, a glint he could only assume used to occupy his eyes when he teased you. He found himself leaning closer, holding his breath as you saddled up closer to his side, your fingers gracefully plucking the lime off of the top of your shot glass.

“Open.”

You watched his eyes widen in panic, glancing around the room to see if any had heard your request. You followed his gaze, watching him realize that the bar was damn near packed (which wasn’t hard considering its small capacity), and that he’d unconsciously lead you to one of the darker areas of the bar. No one would notice if he did it. And honestly, he didn’t know if he would care even if they did.

And yet, that small, stupid, stubborn, prideful part of him still had to put up a fight. He rolled his eyes, trying to be nonchalant about it when he mumbled out “come on Do-”

But you were done taking shit tonight. You knew what you wanted by the end of the night and Sukuna could either follow your rules or go fuck himself.

“I said open.” You cut him off, smiling sweetly as your hand slowly grasped his jaw, giving him plenty of time to pull away, your sweet smile turning mischievous as he made no move to get away.

You pushed his cheeks together, making him groan as his lips puckered, face red as he watched you bring the lime up to his lips, grip loosening enough to let him open up.

You slipped the slice between his lips, telling him to hold it in his teeth by the rind for you as you prepared your salt, all the while batting your lashes at him, trying to work him up as much as possible.

And fuck was it working. Sukuna could feel his jeans getting tighter with every breath he took, your hand that held his jaw now resting surprisingly tenderly under his ear, your nails lightly scratching circles at the side of his nape. You had him pour the salt over the back of your hand by your thumb, which he gladly did, filling a little patch for you as he tried to focus on anything but rubbing himself against you.

He could…. you were close enough, so close.

You brought your hand up to your mouth. You licked the salt off. You downed your tequila, discarding the shot glass on the counter beside you. And then brought your now free hand back up to Sukuna’s jaw, bringing him forward before biting into the lime between his lips, making him groan deep in his throat, his hands desperately coming up to brace your hips as he felt your lips brushing against his.

You could feel him jerk against your hip, the stiff outline of him pressed between the two of you as he practically curled himself around your body, his hands wrapping their way to your lower back, pulling you towards him further, bringing your chests together. He rested his face in the crook of your neck, his breath jagged as he tried to maintain a slipping composure.

You could almost laugh at how pathetic it was. And yet, all you felt was fire licking its way up your core, the power you held over him was amazing and unlike anything you’d felt before and all you knew was that you needed more.

You leaned away, discarding the lime into your shot glass before turning back to Sukuna.

“Good boy.” you mocked, firmly patting his cheek and letting him dig his face deeper into your neck. You giggled, almost sadistically. You could feel how hot his face was against your skin and it was thrilling, to say the least.

“So…” you turn your head, whispering against his ear, “you gonna take me home?”

It was like he was short-circuiting, Sukuna couldn’t bring himself to remove his face from your neck, the warmth of your skin too inviting. And even if he could, he wouldn't want to, he couldn’t go back to the way he was before, callous and unwilling to bend to your will. It felt like you’d flipped a switch in his brain that he never knew existed. Now that he was here, in the warmth of your presence, feeling your pulse beneath his lips, he felt free, he felt free to admit his cowardice to you, to beg you for forgiveness, to grovel and whine beneath you until you felt he’d been punished sufficiently. Of course, wasn’t this punishment enough? Holding him in the small corner of the bar, making him grapple with the unsavory reality that soon he’d have to let you go, the reality that the two of you couldn’t stay like that.

And in his overthinking daze, he couldn’t form a proper response, leaning back with confusion painted over his face,

“Wait, what do you mean? Why?” his reply was quick and mumbled, as if he genuinely couldn’t fathom why you’d said that, his eyes were flitting over your face, almost frantic.

You just laughed and took a page out of his book, hooking your fingers through his belt loops, tugging him closer as you looked back up at him.

“You wanna apologize don’t you?”

And that’s how the two of you ended up how you were, Sukuna lying helplessly underneath you as you ground your hips against his, pulling pathetic little groans out of the man as he clutched onto your hips, not knowing if he wanted to stop you or go faster.

“Fuck…please….” he gasped, his brows furrowed as sweat rolled down the side of his forehead. His shirt had been discarded somewhere in the room as were his jeans, leaving him in his black boxer briefs which were struggling to contain his raging hard-on, not to mention soaked with both his and your arousals.

You giggled from your spot above him, digging your nails further into his thick chest muscles, pulling a little, poorly stifled moan out of him as you flicked his nipples, pulling the pretty pink buds while your still-clothed cunt dragged across him.

“Come on….” you teased, “you want me to reward you? You haven’t apologized yet.” you leaned down, biting his neck, stilling your hips much to his dismay. You grinned against his pulse, feeling it jump every time your canines dragged up and down the skin there.

“You really think you deserve pussy? After all the shit you’ve pulled over the years?” you bit out, crawling off of him and sitting beside him, leaning against the headboard as he lay there, whiplashed by your constant hot then cold attitude.

And while Sukuna might be pathetic, might be undeserving, might be a no-good piece of shit, he wasn’t dumb. He knew what you wanted, and he was more than happy to give it to you.

You hummed, watching him eagerly roll over, slotting his shoulders between your legs, resting your thighs on each side of his face, nearly cumming at the feeling of the fat of your thighs against his skin.

“Please…” he begged, his eyes hooded and his mouth hung open. He looked like a fucking dog, panting, his mouth dragging across your inner thighs as he looked at you expectantly, waiting for the go-ahead to feast on you.

“Fuck.” you mumbled, feeling your restraint slip, feeling the need to make him suffer, weaken. And it was all because of the way he was looking up at you, looking at you like he needed your permission to breathe. And subconsciously, you found yourself thinking that this wouldn’t be an awful thing to come home to each day. A nice, strong man made weak by you and only you.

“please… lemme taste you” Sukuna whimpered, pressing open-mouthed kisses closer and closer to his desired destination, making your hips jolt with each contact. It was like he knew exactly what to do to make you putty in his hands, but you wouldn’t go down so easily… you couldn’t.

You combed your fingers through his hair, smiling at the way he leaned towards your palm.

“Fuck…” Sukuna groaned, pitching his head back against your hand as you pulled a little too hard at his hair, making his dick jump against the bed, his teeth digging into his bottom lip.

“listen doll….” you whispered to him, mocking him with the pet name that he’d been throwing at you all night, “...I want you to beg for it…”

He glanced back up at you, eyes wide as he opened his mouth, you imagined to protest, so you beat him to the punch, pulling his hair again and successfully shutting him up with another sharp groan.

“Don’t you wanna apologize ‘Kuna?” you cooed, grinning as he shivered in response to your nails trailing through his surprisingly tame hair, nodding as he looked up at you through his lashes. You smiled, “....then beg.”

You waited for another second, Sukuna didn’t move from his place below you, and for a second you began to doubt if he still wanted to be there. Had you misread the situation? No, you couldn’t have… so did you take it too far? Was he waayy turned off now?

What you didn’t know was that the truth was quite the contrary. Sukuna was more so frozen from the fear that he wouldn't be enough for you, cuz shit with how close he already was, he wasn’t sure he’d last past eating you out, god the thought of feeling you on his tongue was almost enough to make him cum against the sheets before he could even start.

You went to close your legs, rethinking all of your actions up till now, “hey, listen-” you started…

But before you could get another syllable out, Sukuna was pulling you back against him, gripping your outer thighs hard enough to leave bruises as he finally sunk his teeth into you.

He keened at the sound of your sharp gasp, your hands tightening in his hair once more, pulling his face impossibly closer to your core as you felt his lips wrap around your clit.

“Fuck- ‘Kuna….. fu- ….. wha-.... “ you couldn’t think straight, every thought, every plan that you’d had to make him suffer was getting cloudy with every curl of his tongue against you, you could feel your eyes rolling back into your head, you felt possessed.

“Shhh….” Sukuna whispered, the veins in his forearms bulging as he fought to keep your hips against the bed and your legs spread for him. Now that you’d let him start he didn’t plan on stopping until one of you passed out from exhaustion, whether that would be you or him was up to the universe to decide, of course, he’d do his damndest to make sure it was you.

“Want you to use me….” he sighed, shivering at the feeling of your heels digging into his upper back, “want you to ride my face….. please….”

You felt your back bowing off the bed, his tongue forcing its way into you, his nose bumping against your clit as you unconsciously ground against him.

You were almost shocked at how close you already were, almost because who are you kidding, Sukuna was the hottest man you’d ever laid eyes on, and the way that he was eating you out made you practically salivate at the thought of fucking him.

You couldn’t get over the way his back felt against your calves, the taut ropiness of the muscles, hardened by years of physical labor, fuck he felt so good against you, the way that his fingers wrapped around the backs of your thighs, gripping the tops of them as he kept your legs pried open, vulnerable to him and him alone.

And yet Sukuna knew you controlled him, every thrust of his tongue inside you, every catch of his teeth against your clit he could feel himself falling deeper and deeper under your spell, falling more and more in love with the way you moaned for him, sighing his name while digging your nails into his shoulders, your acrylics biting his skin in a way that made him pathetically hump against the duvet beneath him.

“Fuck….” he moaned, “you’re so fucking pretty doll…please-please pull my hair… please…. I wanna stretch you out…”

“Yeah?” you asked, cupping his jaw surprisingly gently as he looked up at you, desperation on his face and a borderline scary hunger in his eyes. “how do you wanna stretch me out baby?” you cooed, dragging your hand across his face, taking his jaw in your hand once again, encouraging him to come closer.

Which he did, of course, scrambling up to you, crawling to rest between your legs, the soft lighting of the room catching the way his chin was shining with your arousal.

You found yourself looking away, the sight of Sukuna, so eager to please you, being too much. This wasn’t how it usually went. Usually, you found a guy, toyed around with him for a couple weeks, and then you both went on your merry ways. No guy had looked at you like Sukuna did, like you’d hung the moon and the stars. Was this really the same man that had made your life a living hell for the longest time? That’d made you move states away from everything you’d ever known?

Sukuna frowned, watching your face tilt away from him, your eyes avoiding his as he felt your body stiffen beneath him.

“fuck…” he sighed, his forehead resting against yours as he watched a tear make its way down your cheek.

“I hate you.”

“I’m so sorry…” he breathed, closing his eyes, his chest heaving with adrenaline, all of the thoughts and guilt he’d been having for the 10 years pushing to the forefront of his brain.

“I hate you…” you repeated it, not knowing what else to say, your fingers found his biceps somehow, trying to anchor yourself as more tears started to fall. It was the worst-timed catharsis ever. God! All you’d wanted to do was fuck this man, get your closure, and get on with your life. But the son of a bitch just never let you have your way. He was always fucking everything up.

“I know Doll, god I'm so sorry…”

Was Sukuna… crying?

You opened your eyes to find the pink-haired man, eyes red and lined with tears, his jaw set hard as he looked anywhere but your face, the guilt eating him alive. You could tell he meant it this time. If he hadn’t meant it at the bar (which you were fairly certain he had) he did now. With the way that his tears kinda sparkled in the light, with the way that his chest pressed even closer to yours, you could tell.

“...just kiss me please…” you whispered, your hands coming down to hold his, your fingers intertwining with his, where they sat against the sheets, gently untangling the grip he had on the linens.

A broken sound came out of him as he surged forward, pressing his open mouth to yours heatedly. You moaned at the taste of you on his tongue as he forced it into your mouth, curling it around your own as he readjusted his body below you, your core, once again, pressed snuggly against his dick, still angrily trapped in his dampened boxers.

You could feel him moving, humping you against the headboard as he kissed you, the slow, almost yearning way his hips dragged against yours a stark comparison to the desperation of his mouth.

He raised his hands, wrapping around the back of your head, coaxing you further into the kiss, making your head fuzzy.

But Sukuna couldn’t forget that you were steering this ship, so when he finally got the willpower, he broke away from you, his cock weeping furiously as he buried his face in your neck.

“please…” if he was begging before, he was absolutely pleading now, “please… let me show you how sorry I am, lemme make it up to you please…”

And ya know, lust does crazy things to a person, so instead of kicking him to the curb and deciding to never talk to him ever again, you just dropped your head back, exposing your neck to him as if it was a peace offering.

“Fuck...” he whined, his lips attaching to you before you could even rest your head against the headboard behind you, making your breath catch and your hips involuntarily jump towards his. “... thank you… fuck thank you…” his words were broken between as he licked and bit as much of your skin as he could find, thinking that if he left his mark on you, you wouldn’t throw him out at the end of the night, he thought that if other men saw it, he’d finally have the chance to make you his and only his.

“Sukuna, shit- slow down- please..” you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders making him groan against you but not stop his pathetic attempts to keep you.

“can’t… too pretty…”

you almost scoffed, but you were too afraid that all that would come out was something far more embarrassing than Sukuna’s unrivaled arousal. So you settled with squeezing your eyes shut, biting your lip to ensure you didn’t say something you’d regret in the morning.

You managed a “Don’t say that.” through gritted teeth, which just made Sukuna that much harder, especially when he managed to make you moan when his teeth dug into your neck.

Don’t think he didn’t notice how you were holding back, chewing on your lips instead of letting him hear you. That in itself was torture alone, and something that he was directing all of his energy towards correcting.

You felt his fingers, moving down your body, traveling from the back of your head to your waist to your hips, grabbing every square inch of fat he could find, kneading it in a way that was beyond embarrassing, and yet it was driving you insane.

His unabashed desire for you, undeterred by the extra weight around your midsection, was making your head spin. In fact, call you crazy but every time he felt you up, clutching at your curves, his dick jerked against you, telling you that he was definitely enjoying it just as much as you were.

And the truth was that he was enjoying it MUCH more than you were. The only thought running through his head being ‘don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum’

He knew he needed to make you cum first, needed to prove his worth as a lover before he could finally sink himself into you, he knew the second he did he’d be lost. He wouldn’t be able to stop, even if you begged him.

“Kuna…” you cooed, dragging his mouth back up to yours, taking his tongue in your mouth, trying to convince him to move on past kissing you. You needed more, and it looked like he was gonna make you ask for it. “want your fingers…” you watched his eyes widen before he nodded, his hand quickly dragging from your stomach to core, wasting no time before circling your clit, making you cry out against his shoulder, taking your turn at marking him as your teeth dug into the thick muscle.

“Fuck doll….” he groaned, wasting no time in pushing the first finger into you, making your tummy clench at the way it curled up into your walls, somehow hitting that soft spot inside of you in the first 30 seconds.

But you were still hell-bent on hiding how good you felt from Sukuna, he could tell with the way you only let out small ohs as he massaged the tip of his middle finger into your g-spot.

Not that Sukuna wanted to seem cocky when he said it, but it wasn’t like he was inexperienced with the ladies. He knew he was making you feel good, he could feel it with every warm pulse of your pussy around his fingers.

“Shit…” he whispered into your ear. You felt his nose drag down the side of your jaw, trailing against the outline, down to your neck once again. You almost interjected, thinking that he was gonna stop fucking you open on his fingers just to tease you again by literring hickeys on your neck, but the words died in your throat as he continued downwards, passing your pulse up before landing on the top of your breast, digging his teeth into the fat enough to make you squirm against him.

“Kuna stop…”

He grinned at the whiney tone of your voice, he couldn’t help it though, if this was the only way to break you out of your vow of silence then so be it.

“Shhh….” he switched from biting to running his tongue over your skin, moaning at the feeling of you arched against him when his tongue caught the edge of your nipple.

“Fuck baby, youre so fucking hot…” he mumbled, contining licking and biting, yet (much to your annoyance) avoiding sucking on your tit directly.

“You’re sucking me in so good…. so pretty..”

You could feel your orgasm building in the bottom of your stomach, especially with the way Sukuna's thumb kept drawing circles against your clit, alternating with the movement of now two of his fingers twisting and probing inside of you.

“shi- d-don’t say that.. ple-” the words died in your throat as the edge of his tongue accidentally caught the edge of your areola, dangerously close to your nipple, pearled and begging for his full attention.

“Don’t want me to call you pretty Doll?” he asked.

No response. He couldn’t tell if you hadn’t heard him or simply refused to answer him, so he stilled his fingers, going to make sure you were ok.

“wha-?” you all but whined, your head shooting up to look at him from its lolled position against the pillows of Sukuna’s bed.

“Need to you to pay attention to me, baby…please-” you could barely believe your eyes as you watched your childhood bully give you the most pathetic puppy dog eyes, resting his chin against your chest, panting as he laid his cheek against your skin, practically nuzzling his face into your tits.

“...please…all I ever wanted was your attention, fuck why da’ think I said all that shit when I was a lil snot nose fucker?”

With his words, you felt him start to move his hips against your thigh again, the wetness of his briefs making a sticky mess against your leg… so close to where you needed him, yet still too far for your liking.

And while you wished you could say that his behavior was anything but attractive, the way that you felt your cunt twitching, gaping with the loss of his fingers, made it very clear how you really felt.

“fuuuck…” you groaned, grumbling your frustrations under your breath, bringing your hands up from their positions tangled in his sheets to tangle them back in his hair.

“what was that doll?” Sukuna raised his head back up to look in your eyes, his half-lidded stare making you impossibly wetter.

“..was so close….” you mumbled, refusing to show any kindness towards him, you were back on your warpath, your ruined orgasm obliterating any empathy you had for him, you were again here for one thing and one thing only. Dick. not for him to call you pretty or kiss you til your head spun, you were here for a good unattached fuck.

And even though in the back of your mind, you feared that you’d failed that mission the minute Sukuna’s lips met yours, you could still pretend that there was only one thing he was good for.

“huh?” Sukuna was a bit taken aback, expecting you to whine about, or at least acknowledge his confession that he’d dreamed of this practically since he hit puberty.

But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, not yet at least.

Sukuna whined at the abrupt sensation of you pulling his hair, making his eyes widen in surprise at your sudden aggression. He thought he had you right where he wanted you, he thought he’d warmed you up enough to stop acting so cold towards him, he genuinely thought the two of you were past just a one-night stand.

But you were here to remind him that this wasn’t what he wished it was, it wasn’t loving and tender, this was him begging, this was him groveling for forgiveness.

This was also a much-needed change of pace for you, seeing as you had started to lose your grip of control on the situation.

“Put your fingers back in me Kuna,” you said, your eyes flickering back down to his lips, watching him pant. You felt him nod against your grip, mumbling out a pitiful ‘fuck ‘m sorry’ before pushing his middle and ring fingers back up into you, all while maintaining eye contact.

You stared at his face, fucked out as he took his turn glancing down at your lips, obviously desperate for another kiss, a desperation you happily ignored, guiding his face into the crook of your neck as you keened at the feeling of him scissoring you open, finding your g-spot again in no time.

You whispered in his ear, making him whine with the way you gently bit it.

“Want you to fuck me real nice n hard with your fingers Kuna…” You arched into him, making his head spin at the feeling of your naked body pressed to his chest, “ ‘n I want you to make me cum while you suck on my tits.. kay?”

“Fuck….o-okay….” If you could believe it, Sukuna’s face turned an even deeper shade of pink, it was cute you thought, cute until, without another word he dove in, teeth first against the first nipple.

“Oh-fu-mm… good boy Kuna…. you like that?” you moaned, digging your nails into his shoulders

“Mhmm… love it s’much” he panted, his tongue circling the bud before taking it back into his mouth. Sukuna swore he could’ve gone to heaven. If not from the taste of your skin against his tongue, then from the way your cunt kept sucking his fingers back in.

“So fucking warm….” he worked his way to the other nipple, feeling his cock jump as he flicked it with his tongue, drawing another embarrassing moan out of your throat. “.....so soft….”

You could feel yourself getting close again, the warmth growing in your core as Sukuna continued to pump his fingers into you, the tip of his middle finger prodding into your g-spot with each drag.

“Fuck…. come on Kuna…. make me cum… please”

And that’s all the encouragement he needed to abandon your breasts, bringing his free hand up to grip the nape of our neck before taking your lips against his, this time leaving you no room to reject him, pouring his soul into the kiss, panting as he forced his tongue against yours, overwhelming you with the sudden display of dominance.

It was unexpected but not unwelcome as you felt yourself fall over the ledge, gasping against his mouth as his fingers brutally worked you through your high, his hard chest caging you in, leaving you nowhere to escape to as chills wracked through your bones, your vision damn near turning white.

“Fuck please no…no more…too much” you begged when Sukuna finally gave you a chance to breathe, sinking his teeth into your neck, leaving (what he hoped) would be an everlasting hickey.

It was only when your hands shifted from pulling Sukuna closer to pushing him away that he realized that he still hadn’t stopped fucking you on his fingers.

“Shit…. sorry doll….” he mumbled, closing his eyes in ecstasy at the feeling of your warmth pulsing around his fingers, imagining how it’d feel if it were his dick being choked by your heat. “.....’m sorry…. just so pretty…”

You gasped, feeling him remove his fingers from you, watching through your lashes as he brought them up to his lips, moaning as he sucked your orgasm off of them.

“wanna taste?” he asked, grabbing your nape again, this time coaxing you into a kiss, just as deep but slightly less domineering, leaving you room to breathe as his tongue flicked into your mouth, his hips resuming a slow pace against you.

He hoped you could feel how badly he needed you, the sick stickiness of his crotch mixing with the slickness of your core, the fabric making you whimper and jump with each catch of your overstimulated clit.

“Fuck.” Sukuna whispered against your neck, drawing back to look at you, fully intending to beg you to touch him, just touching him would suffice, fuck he felt like he would burst with just a drag of your finger against his cock.

“Please…” you watched as he begged, his eyes red and…. were those tears? Had your childhood bully really fallen so far? Begging for your pussy as he humped your leg like a fucking puppy. “...please is it my turn?”

You smiled sweetly at him, cupping his cheek, letting him nuzzle his face against your palm.

“you wanna fuck me Kuna?”

Sukuna swore you were an angel with the way your eyes sparkled as he nodded, his eyes desperately flickering down to your lips.

“you need some pussy?” you almost giggled, watching his eyes widen, his eyes still transfixed on the way your lips moved, barely registering the words that came out of them.

“no….” he whispered, “no… just yours… only yours, please..”

You almost laughed, if only he didn’t look so pathetic… if only it wasn’t making you flood the sheets more than you already had.

“yeah?” you asked, “you just want mine? How bad d’ya want it Kuna?”

“S-so bad... fu… want you so bad…” his hips moved faster against you, making you worried he’d finish before you could get your fill.

Not that that would stop the two of you from going again, not that it would stop you from riding him til he cried for real.

“yeah?... “ you cooed, lightly slapping his cheek, grinning at the way it made him gasp, “...show me then…”

And with that, it was like a switch flipped in him, or rather it was like a starved man had finally gotten permission to eat. He sat back on his heels, wasting no time in pulling his boxers down, tucking the waistband under his balls, too impatient to take them off completely.

You wished you could say that you were surprised, but let's be honest, you knew that Sukuna was gonna be fucking strapped, even if he were to just be proportional to the rest of him he’d of been big. But this was just ridiculous, not only was he big… he was so pretty it had to be a crime.

The pink of the tip was almost shimmering with how wet it already was with his pre, if it wasn’t so heavy you bet it would’ve reached above his belly button, and the sight of the vein running up it was making your mouth water and your tummy flip. You could practically feel him inside of you already, fuck you could practically feel your next orgasm coming on.

Without a word, you turned yourself onto your stomach before propping up onto your knees, making his head spin at the sight of you offering your plump ass to him, pressing yourself into such a pretty arch.

It was tempting to fuck you like this, it really was… and if Sukuna was any weaker a man he’d of jumped at the chance to slam into you, to watch the fat of your ass ripple with each snap of his hips.

But Sukuna knew how he wanted to take you, he wanted to remember this forever, the first time he fucked you had to be memorable. You had the rest of your lives to fuck like rabbits, but this time he wanted to see you come undone, he wanted to look into yor eyes as he got to sink into you.

But you couldn’t see the gears in Sukuna’s head turning, all you knew was there were 2 fewer hands on your body than you wanted.

“Hey wha- hey!” your eyes widened as Sukuna grabbed your hips, flipping your body back over to face him.

“I wanna see your face..” he mumbled, leaning closer to you, his eyes flicking down to your lips., “please..”

You almost rolled your eyes, if not out of pure disbelief at his honey dipped words then in a lame attempt to cover up the fact that such words were starting to get to you, starting to make you picture something more with Sukuna, something that’d last past the next several hours.

You opened your mouth to taunt him, but as soon as Sukuna saw those pretty little lips of yours part he nudged your entrance with his tip, biting his lip with a cocky grin when your complaints died on your tongue, melting into a breathy ‘fuck’, pressing your eyes closed at the feeling of his fat tip running across your clit.

“fuck… please Kuna…” you brought his lips to yours, gasping at the feeling of him beginning to press into you, slowly stretching you out. “I need it in me…”

And that was all it took to make Sukuna lose the small grip he had on himself completely, driving into you in one swift thrust, making your eyes cross and your toes curl.

“Oh my god…” Sukuna moaned, his eyes closing in concentration, his whole attention focused on not coming completely undone the second he felt your warmth wrapped around his dick, the heat nearly choking him.

“Fuck…can I move? ple-fuck… please can I move?”

You almost wanted to make Sukuna suffer by saying no if it meant he’d look at you like this forever, his cheeks flushed almost as pink as his hair, his pupils blown so wide you could barely even tell his eye color. He looked at you like a churchgoer in prayer, like you were his world… It was honestly a little scary how it made you feel, how much you liked it, how much you could see yourself getting used to it, waking up to it every morning, falling asleep to it every night.

You brought your hand up to cup his jaw, smiling small at the way he turned his face towards your hand, his eyes never leaving yours as he waited expectantly for your answer, his breath catching at the feeling of your walls pulsing around him.

“Make me cum ‘Kuna ....please” you whispered, guiding his mouth back to yours, swallowing the groan that ripped through him as his hips started moving without his permission, making you cry out with the brutal pace his body set.

It felt like he was possessed, moving without any control over his body. He didn’t know how long he could keep himself contained with the way you were sucking him in. The feeling of your soft stomach and tits as he pressed his body as close as physically possible to you, only his hips moving to jackhammer his cock in and out of you, making your head spin with every catch of his pelvis against your clit and with every brush of his chest against yours, feeling his bounding heartbeat, threatening to burst out of his chest.

It was fucking hot, the effect you had on him, the way he could only hide his face in your neck, whimpering out pathetic “thank yous” against your collarbone, too flustered to do anything else.

Your arms had found their ways around his neck, your nails digging into his upper back, the bite of your nail making his cock jump inside of you.

“Fuck Kuna….” you moaned, you felt him in your throat, his tip brushing against your cervix with each snap of his hips, your hips doing their best to meet his thrusts. “feels so good…”

“Yeah?” he breathed, gritting his teeth, his quickly approaching end only driven closer by your praise. “I fucking love the way you feel around me doll, so fucking tight… fuckin’ perfect.”

The way his words came straight from his chest, the low tone, borderline growl making your walls tighten around him.

“Tell me how much you love it ‘Kuna…” your hands were on his lower back now, as if pushing him closer to you, letting him hit even deeper inside of you.

“Shit….” Sukuna choked, “oh my god… oh my god I love it so much… love it…. love you-fuck I love you”

And maybe if you were already fucked half to heaven you’d of noticed what he’d said… what he’d confessed to you, but you were so lost in your own lust all you could do was agree, blabbering in agreeance, your hips chasing his desperately, chasing the high that was starting to rise in your core.

“Love your cock Kuna…. please..please go faster.” it was your turn to beg, and god was Sukuna NOT ready for such a thing, nearly fainting at the sight of your half-lidded gaze.

Most men would give up, he’d been fucking you for a while now, supporting his upper body on his forearms as his hips pistoned into you, maybe if he’d a been any smaller of a man his muscles would burn with exertion, and they’d especially not be able to go faster.

But not Sukuna, not the man who threw around 100 pound haybales, two at a time all day for weeks at a time, not the man who could drive 50 posts a day, putting up nearly a mile of fencing all alone.

This was no sweat to Sukuna, if anything the burn in his thighs was a reward for the long insufferable days of work, which is why when his girl says faster, there's only one thing he can do.

“oh my godddd yesyesyess-fuck thank you…”

Sukuna grinned as you babbled out profanities, pressing your thighs to your chest, changing the angle of his hips to drill into you that much better, taking your lips in a bruising kiss, forcing you even deeper into a mean mating press.

“Fuck doll, youre so fucking beatiful, gonna make me cum…”

Your head was spinning, it felt like your heart was going to break out of your chest, the feeling of the fat tip of Sukuna’s cock pressing into your gspot with each jerk of his hips was making you lose your mind in the best way.

How were you going to carry on with life after this? You weren't quite sure yet, knowing that you’d never have this much control over a man ever again was an unfortunate thought. The power you held over this man alone was enough to nearly push you over the edge, that familiar rubber band drawn so tight within you, so ready to snap… you just need one more little push. You wanted to watch Sukuna fall apart first, wanted to watch him lose his mind from the way you made him feel.

“please…want you to come inside of me ‘Kuna…”

Sukuna swore he saw god, “fuck…wai-what about you getting pregnant?”

Sukuna asked, and he admitted that half of him hoped you were serious, he hoped that you were serious and that you weren’t on the pill. And while he was definitely just thinking with his dick, he couldn’t help but pray he’d knock you up first try. He knew it was barbaric and he was fairly certain you really didn't want that. But that didn’t stop him from fucking into you impossibly faster, making you cry out, digging you nails into his back, undoubtedly leaving angry red marks for him to admire tomorrow.

You giggled, the sound quickly melting into a moan with the way Sukuna’s hips quickened.

“Don’t worry… on the pill…” you managed to whimper out, getting sick satisfaction when Sukuna’s face dropped just the slightest bit before dropping down to your neck, biting and sucking a trail up to your jaw, whispering into your ear.

“fuck… you sure?”

Sukuna could feel himself on the edge, he was so fucking close, all he needed was to feel you come around him, feel you cream around his cock, paint his pelvis with your arousal. But before he could do anything else, before he could talk you over the edge, you tangled your fingers into his hair again and brought him against your chest, forcing his face against them, making his eyes roll back at the feeling of your fat tits smothering him.

“Come for me ‘Kuna.” you whispered in his ear before tossing your head back at the feeling of his teeth sinking into one of your nipples, the actions pushing you both over the edge at the same time.

“Fuuuckkkkk” you cried, white flashing behind your eyes, you body shaking, the only thing preventing your body from bowing off of the bed being Sukuna’s strong frame, pinning you down as he worked you through your high, forcing himself to fuck you through his own high, the hot overstimulation of your walls making him cry out against the skin of your breasts.

The two of you rode out your highs until you were both left sweaty, out of breath, and twitching, your bodies tangled in Sukuna’s sheets.

You finally gathered your breath, slowly regaining your composure, gaining consciousness at the feeling of Sukuna still slowly pressing kisses against your neck, already having come down from his high, choosing to happily bask in your presence for as long as he possibly could.

“Hey…” you mumbled, a sudden rush of embarrassment dawning on you as the gravity of what you just did started to weigh on you.

Sukuna let out a small ‘hmm?’ still not stilling his lips against you, something inside of him thinking that as soon as he stopped all of this would be over and you’d walk out of his life forever.

“Gotta pee.” you muttered, trying and failing to move your body under his, his solid muscle mass proving it pointless.

“I’ll carry you.”

It wasn’t even an offer, he just dragged himself up, gathering you in his arms like you were nothing, not even grunting at your weight as he proceeded to carry you into the bathroom attaches to his room, hesitantly setting you down on your feet in front of the mirror overlying the his and hers sinks in the bathroom, chuckling quietly at the way your legs shook, earning him a glare from you.

God you were beautiful.

And Sukuna was gonna marry you. He was sure of it.

“Thanks I guess.” you grumbled, wrapping your arms around yourself, avoiding his gaze now that both of you had regathered yourselves.

“Come back to bed when you’re done.”

You couldn’t tell if he was begging or telling, his voice just soft enough to make butterflies flutter through your chest.

“I don’t-”

His hand cupped the back of your neck, bringing your lips to his, locking with just as much passion as he’d had only moments ago, only making the butterflies worse.

He drew away, “please…” his voice was still soft, and his eyes shone with a vulnerability you couldn’t say you’d ever seen.

None of this changed what he’d done to you, and it never could. You didn’t know how you felt about Sukuna anymore.

He made your life hell for so long…. you didn’t know if you could ever forgive him…..

but it wouldn't kill you to stay the night….. maybe longer…

…who knows?

#jujitsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk x plus size reader #jjk x chubby reader #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #chubby reader #chubby reader smut #ryomen smut #sukuna ryomen smut #jjk x reader

396 notes · View notes

sungbeam · 8 months ago

Text

007!ji changmin x f!reader

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

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

▷ word count. 11.1k

▷ based on. casino royale (2006)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, business. You know how it is.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Trotting the globe, I bet?”

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

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

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

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

“Significant others then,” he offered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyebrows flew to your hairline.

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

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

Assistant? As if.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right away, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

“—Lee Juyeon. CIA.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don't know then.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart.”

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

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

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

“We will begin with Mrs. Takeuchi.”

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

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

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

Changmin settled in the chair directly across from Le Chiffre.

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

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

He was looking for his tell, you realized.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need more money.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ji.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh?”

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

Both you and Changmin glanced at one another in surprise.

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

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

“You would give the CIA Le Chiffre.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Safe,” he gasped to you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fucking hell, that was a close—”

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

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

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

Relief was short-lived.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yn—”

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

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

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

“Not so fast.”

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

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

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

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

A shot rang out.

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

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

You nearly died just then.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His opponent swallowed.

The game resumed.

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

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

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

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

Everyone was all in.

“Reveal your cards, if you please.”

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

All that was left were Changmin's.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So loud, that you almost missed it.

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

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

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

A muffled response in return.

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

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

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

Changmin grabbed you and booked it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yn, you better be fucking running.”

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

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

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

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

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

The weapon went sailing; that was his opening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was he dead?

“You're not dead.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hurt, you'd been so hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Changmin—”

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

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

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

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

“W.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I'm sorry if the kiss was too much.”

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

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

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

“Giddy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

tbz m.list

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

#🔎 — the 007 files #deoboyznet #kflixnet #the boyz x reader #ji changmin x reader #changmin x reader #the boyz oneshot #the boyz drabbles #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fanfic #changmin drabble #changmin oneshot #changmin angst #changmin scenarios #changmin imagines

183 notes · View notes