bongopowder

[bongopowder]

#needthat

[bongopowder]

looking for trouble! (hisoka)

⁺ . ✦ .　⁺ 　 . ✦ hunter x hunter (hisoka x reader) ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . ⁺

content (18+): nsfw, female reader, hunter exam, zevil island, deep in the forest, degrading, bungee gum bondage?

word count: 4.6k

a tune for you: rule #34 (fish in a birdcage)

The darkness encompassing the indigo forest would be enough to unnerve a weary traveler, to send shivers down an unsuspecting spine, just as the touch of the cold night air nips at exposed skin. To others, however, its representation differs. Perhaps it’s an austere simplicity. The night: homogenous, consistent, peaceful even; a harmonious change from day. Or maybe it’s scandalous. A break from the life which you return to in the rather unsuspecting morning.

Zevil Island was about what you expected; lush trees extended far into the distance, speckled with occasional plains, mountainous rocks, and deceptively peaceful beaches. As the moon casts its glow amongst the scene, drowning every winter leaf and blade of grass with a mysterious sheet of pale blue light, the soft flutter of butterfly wings mingles with the whistling of wind, surrounding you as you walk.

The faint hoot of an owl sounds in the distance, and your breathing grows calmer. Looking down, you study the two badges in your hand: #174 and #105, yours and your target’s. You caught him out in the beginning, a large man with a red nose and a sword, tracking him to a field of tall grass after leaving the boat. Unbeknownst to him, you hid in the shadows, lurking deep in the thick branches of an oak tree until the sun set just below the horizon, casting the subtle gloom of dusk over the meadow.

It was over in a second, the creeping darkness and growing exhaustion hindering his senses as you stalked, hidden by the tall blades of grass. His body fell to the floor with a thud, the sound softened by the dense foliage below, and you quickly swiped the badge from his satchel.

That was mere hours ago. And now, the darkness had crept up on you, just as you had to him.

Yawning, you continue your walk through the trees, somewhat overconfident as you stride down the path which winds between trunks, leading you deeper into the forest. Your only task now is to find a place to hide, to ride out the next few days in peace, safe and away from whoever may be targeting you. Peace and quiet.

“Hey.”

Damn it.

The sound makes you stop in your tracks, eyes shooting up from the ground, seeing a figure up ahead, peeking through the foliage. Your hand instinctively moves straight to the knife in your belt.

Hisoka.

You narrow your eyes as you approach, knowing it would be useless to run from him. You meet his gaze, his stare piercing into you as he fingers a card, leaning casually against a nearby tree. There’s something behind those eyes: a sinister desire. For blood, no less.

Hisoka the Magician, nothing but a merciless killer, scheming and preying on those weaker. And they stand no chance, like a cat and a mouse. A cat with a fetish for carnage. A cat who likes to play with his food.

But you are no mouse.

You had encountered him before, in the sticky fog of the Misty Wetlands, where the heavy air sat deep within your lungs. You were close to the second stage, mind fuzzy as you continued to run, recalling nothing but the sensation of sitting, laying down, or simply standing still. That is, until you stumbled upon Gon’s neck in Hisoka’s hand.

It was an altercation. Hands. Knives. A fishing rod.

And those words he spoke to you, still ringing in your ears as he finally let you go.

You passed.

“I don’t want trouble,” you utter hesitantly, finally reaching the small courtyard with a hand up, approaching cautiously, ready to strike at any moment.

“And what if I do?” he smirks, pushing himself from the tree and making his way towards you. With a hand on his hip, he saunters closer, broad shoulders swaying as he walks.

“I’m not your target.”

“How can you be so sure?” he crosses his arms slyly, flicking the card back in his pocket.

“105 was my target, and I was his,” you pause, growing slightly nervous. You can feel an energy, a craving, a radiating force coming from his body. Something pent up, about to explode. “I’ll tell you what I know about your target, just let me leave.”

“Hmm…” he hums, eyes narrowing further as a smile creeps up on his thin lips. “Your two badges are still worth something to me.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, your mind reeling in dread. You can’t beat him; at least, you don’t think you can. You’ve seen what he can do, what options do you really have? The surrounding trees may offer cover, but he’d surely run you down.

“You wouldn’t come out unscathed,” you say after clearing your throat, the blunt words spoken with a slight apprehensive tone. “And you’d need a third badge too.”

His hand moves to his chin and he hums, that devilish smile still plastered on his damned face. He’s already decided something.

“What if we came to an… arrangement?” he proposes, stepping closer as he lets out the soft huff of a chuckle. “An agreement in which we both stand to gain something… and you can leave with both your badges.”

Your stomach turns with anxiety at his words. Nothing could ever be so easy.

“What kind of arrangement?” you ask, almost knowing you might regret it, the words coming out in a hoarse whisper, caught deep in your throat.

He grins, a fisherman who just felt a tug on his line. Slowly, he reaches out his hand, palm upwards, extending his pointer finger out to you.

Within a second, he snaps it back, a beckoning call which somehow sends you flying ten feet forwards straight into him. Your face hits his chest, your body crashing into his as your hands instinctively move up to try to lessen the blow.

“What the-”

“You see,” he sighs dramatically, interrupting your complaint and wrapping one arm tightly around your waist to hold you against him. “I’ve found myself in quite the bind… a predicament, one may say. So much built up with no way to release it…”

Your eyes widen as you feel the slight touch of his fingers grazing up your neck, his other hand still firmly holding you in place, your hips tightly pressed against him. Immediately, heat travels straight to your cheeks as you look up into his narrowed eyes.

“I… you don’t mean…” you stutter.

“I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now, haven’t you?” he smirks as his fingers snake around your neck, his touch firm. Your breath catches as they tighten, and he begins to slowly back you up against a nearby tree, the rough bark tickling the back of your scalp. “I haven’t killed anyone in days…”

You watch his chest rise and fall, his breaths growing quicker, lips parted slightly. And those eyes – dull and clouded with a repressed haze – bare into your soul, scanning every element of your face.

Swallowing, you too let your gaze fall along his face, his body, those muscular arms which hold you against the trunk. What am I doing? This is a terrible idea…

“What’ll it be?” he huffs impatiently, grip tightening as he leans in, causing you to gasp. “You leave in the morning, both badges in hand. As if nothing happened.”

His breath is hot against your ear, rough with his smoldering passion. You freeze, heart racing in nervousness, or… excitement? You can’t tell, and it only makes you feel worse.

To kill… to fuck… is it all the same to him?

The silence is unsettling; his hand remains on your neck, the hold unwavering as a soft dusk breeze makes its way through the forest, rustling leaves along the way.

“Okay…” you steady your voice, looking up into his eyes. “It’s a deal.”

A smile flickers across his face for a fleeting moment, but within an instant, his lips are crashing against yours, hungry and desperate. He lets out a soft sound against your mouth, something between a growl and a moan, as he pulls your hips forward, further into his.

“Good choice…” he murmurs as his grip on your throat releases and his fingers snake backwards, the feeling of sharp nails trailing along your sensitive skin making you wince. Your head snaps back as he pulls your hair, and within a moment his mouth is on your neck. He plants hot, messy kisses along your flesh, occasionally grazing his teeth across you, as if holding himself back from taking a bite.

The cool breeze tickles your neck, now wet with a thin layer of saliva, sending a faint shiver down your spine. Apprehensively, you reach your hand up to the nape of his neck, sliding your fingers through his hair, unintentionally pressing his face closer to your skin.

He groans, and you feel the harsh pinch of a bite at the base of your neck. His hands travel down to your hips, now pulling you away from the tree and backing you up deeper into the forest, the path out of sight.

“Wouldn’t want to be interrupted,” he murmurs between breaths, his mouth moving up to plant kisses along your jaw.

You watch in the darkness as he pulls back, his eyes scanning the environment behind you, expression lighting up for a moment. Without a warning, he pushes you backward, sending you stumbling down into the thick grass below, the dampness of the vegetation cold against your hands as you hit the floor.

He grins, walking closer and leaning over your body between your legs, the moon above disappearing as he steps in front of it, like an eclipse. The white rays of moonlight create a blurry haze around his silhouette, his body a looming shadow above you.

Oh, he’s not gonna be gentle…

Crouching down, his face just inches from yours, he lets his eyes wander over your body fully, taking in your entire form. Your chest, rising and falling swiftly. Your eyes, wide in anticipation. Your hands, propping you up slightly as you rest in the thick grass.

“You’re scared…?”

His question is rhetorical; he knows you’re terrified. Terrified of him and terrified of the consequences. And yet, there’s something that draws you in, something that keeps you from running. Something…

“Does it matter?” you whisper, eyes meeting his through your eyelashes.

“No,” he smirks with a shrug, now moving to settle between your legs, his arm reaching behind you on the grass, steadying himself as he gets onto his knees. “It’s more fun that way.”

As the last words leave his mouth, he captures your mouth in another kiss, his lips moving furiously against yours. You slowly let yourself fall back into the grass, hands gripping his shirt as you pull him down with you. Sounds of soft pleasure fill the air, your senses heightened, feeling the soft skin of his face against yours and the dry tack of his face paint tickling your nose.

You’re just as desperate for it now, your desire snowballing with every kiss, touch, breath. It’s wrong and dirty and indecent but you just can’t help yourself, his body pressing yours deeper into the ground.

And then the movement starts, his hips grinding into yours as he uses a hand to pry your thighs apart. The sudden friction sends a jolt of electricity through your body, a small sound escaping your lips but immediately captured by his.

He lets out a deep breath, his arousal growing more intense as he continues his movement into your hips, one hand keeping you pressed against the grass. Your arms wrap around his body, fingers sinking into the soft fabric of his shirt, tugging at it urgently.

A thin string of saliva connects your lips to his as he pulls back, wasting no time in pulling his shirt over his head and exposing his bare chest to you. His muscles, accentuated under the moonlight, tense slightly as the brisk air hits him.

He leans back in, eyes trained to yours as he tosses his clothes to the side. His hands move to your shirt, not waiting for confirmation before pulling it and over your head, nearly ripping the fabric with his urgency.

You shiver, unable to decide if the reason lies within your exposure to him or the elements, and you fall back to the grass.

“Forgetting something?” Hisoka teases as he slips a finger under the bridge of your bra, lifting your back from the ground as he pulls it towards him. His other hand slides behind you, his fingers working to unhook the clasp.

You feel the color rush to your cheeks as he drops your undergarment to the side, his eyes hungrily trailing down to your exposed chest. He continues to study you for a moment, his tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek as he lets his gaze roam down, and down… and down.

Oh.

Your pants are already being torn off, the coarse fabric quickly sliding down your legs as he tugs them up in the air.

Instinctively, you tuck your knees, pressing your thighs together nervously as he kneels in front of you, eyes still taking in your appearance in silence. It feels demeaning, degrading, dirty, the way he looks at you. And something about it makes heat pool between your legs.

He stands, his fingers slipping under the waistband of his own pants, tugging them down just enough to see his v-line peeking out from the pale fabric.

“Get on your knees.”

His demand rings though your ears, the hum of sound clouding your thoughts. It’s as if your body moves on its own, fueled by nothing but inherent lust and scandal, your knees digging into the dirt as you look up at him.

You tug his pants further down, desperate for him, to feel him, to tastehim. He smirks, allowing you to remove it, letting the fabric fall to his ankles.

The resulting sight makes your breath catch in your throat, your eyes widening as they stare, unmoving from him. The size is…

“Make it fit.”

Your stomach drops, not in fear, but rather sensuality: the thrill of desire. Moving in, you waste no time giving him what he wants, your tongue running up the length of him, pausing gently at his tip and moving back and forth, a slight saltiness spreading throughout your mouth.

Hisoka grows more restless, his breathing staggering, the air caught in his throat as you toy with him.

“Get on with it,” he growls, his hand quickly grasping your hair at the scalp, pulling your face closer to him.

You smirk, eyes not leaving his as you lick a long, thick stipe up your palm, saliva glistening in the night. Your hand moves forward, gripping his cock and beginning to move, tantalizingly, back and forth.

He groans, his fingers intertwining further into your hair and sharp nails scraping against your scalp.

You move slowly, teasing him further with your tongue, taking him deeper, an inch at a time as your hand continues to work at his base. The pressure builds in your mouth, your jaw opening to accommodate him as you continue, almost choking and gagging.

As your lips touch him, taking him in, he lets out a straggled moan, strong arms forcing your head forward again, more and more, until you’ve taken his entire length in your mouth. You grip his thighs, feeling him hit the back of your throat and push harder. You twist, making him fit.

And then he pulls you back, just as you had gotten the chance to adjust. That is, before he thrusts your face into him again, and again, and again. It’s aggressive and violent, his grunts growing louder with every push, his hips moving forwards to meet your face, forcing himself even deeper into your mouth.

You feel tears blurring your vision, unable to feel anything except the sensation deep in your throat, the pain of him hitting against you, but the pleasure of knowing what you’re doing to him.

The muscles of his thighs under your grip begin to tighten more frequently, his gasps and moans growing more desperate.

“Fuck…” he grumbles under his breath, the word barely distinguishable from the series of pleasurable sounds caught deep in his throat, just as he is caught in yours.

He pulls you back by your hair, a strangled grunt escaping his lips, lips which immediately twist into a scheming smile. With his other hand, he places his finger under your chin, using his thumb to wipe the stray saliva dripping from the side of your mouth.

You fall onto your back, pushed back into the grass by Hisoka as he straddles your body. He leans in, mouth finding yours in a kiss as he positions himself over you, sliding his hands along your bare arms outwards, his hands meeting yours. After just a moment, he pulls his hands back, running them back up your arms, one finding your breast and the other, your hip.

You shift to move your hand, but it’s stuck. You tug and pull, furrowing your brow and pulling back from the kiss to glance to the side, staring at your hand, almost cemented to the ground.

“Why can’t I move-”

You’re immediately silenced, Hisoka’s finger moving to your lips, a sly smile plastered on his face.

“Don’t concern yourself with such trivial matters such as your hands…” he whispers, kissing at your jawline as if nothing happened.

The wet sensation draws your attention back to the moment, forgetting about your hands, or lack thereof. He moves again, positioning one leg between yours, pressing down into your body. You move your body up and closer to his as you begin to buckle your hips against his thigh, craving stimulation.

He smirks against your mouth, feeling your slick against his thigh as he continues to kiss you. Suddenly, he shifts his position, moving his other leg between yours. One of his hands travels to your hip, pushing you further into the ground.

“Such a dirty slut for me, aren’t you?” he purrs, his mouth pulling away from yours as his hand moves from your hip, trailing down to your inner thigh. You shiver, eyes meeting his in the starlight, a shadow looming over his face.

He slides a finger up, gently skimming along your skin as he makes his way closer to your core. His finger moves further up, teasing your folds, his touch far from gentle.

“Ah-” you dig your head into his shoulder, your hands gripping at the dirt as he continues to move his finger. Your eyes widen as you feel his sharp nail graze against your clit, the pain and stimulation sending a shudder through your body.

“Careful-” your forced whisper is quickly halted as he moves two fingers into you, slipping easily inside your throbbing pussy. You tighten around him, your heels and hips digging deeper into the dirt as your muscles contract.

It’s messy, inconsistent, almost selfish. He moves his fingers deeper inside of you, forcing small sounds of pleasurable pain from your lips, as if he cares not for your satisfaction, and only for what you can do for him.

After only a moment, he removes his fingers from inside of you, sliding them seductively up and across your neglected clit. They continue their journey up, sliding along your navel, sternum, and up to your neck.

“Clean them,” he demands suddenly, not waiting for a reply and shoving his fingers into your mouth, the tips pressing down into your tongue.

You let out a soft groan, the sound catching in your throat as his fingers muffle you, that is, before you begin to suck and lick him clean. Your tongue moves across and between his sticky fingers, lapping up your wetness from his skin.

As you continue to work at his fingers, he spreads your thighs further apart with his legs, settling between them. His fingers push further down against your tongue, eliciting a small whine from you.

You gasp as you feel him between your folds again, the tip of his cock sliding back and forth against you, lubricated with your slick.

He finally removes himself from your mouth, his hand now resting beside your head on the grass. His body remains pressed against yours, his hips stopping their movement as they slide back, positioning his tip at your entrance.

You bite back a moan in anticipation, pursing your lips as you look up at him, hovering over you.

“Beg for it,” his mouth twists into a smart grin.

“Please…” the word leaves your mouth before you can even register how degrading the situation is. You’re simply too frustrated, too needy. “I want you so bad… please…”

“Say my name,” he whispers close to your ear, his own breathing unsteady as he processes your words. “I want this whole island to hear you.”

“H-Hiso-”

The rest catches in your throat, the sensation of him slowly entering you drawing out a long and straggled moan, mingling with the remnants of a real word. Your fingers tear at the grass below, body contracting as he pushes deeper and deeper, filling you up more than you thought possible.

The movement begins, slowly at first, then speeding up in aggressive desperation. Your head throws back in pleasure, unable to tell if the stars you see above are real ones or not. Hisoka grunts with every thrust, each one growing in power as his fingers dig into the ground beside your head.

And the dirt. It coats your hair as he rocks you back and forth, stuck to the strands with the soft grassy dew acting like glue. You bite your lip, stifling a desperate moan into the night, knowing anyone could be in the surrounding forest.

Hisoka’s hand moves to your neck again, giving you no time to process as he tightens his fingers around you, using you as leverage to fuck you even harder.

“What did I tell you?” he grumbles through his clenched jaw, his pace unwavering. “I want to hear you.”

You oblige, forcing yourself to whisper his name, focusing on nothing else than the word, trying to distract yourself from the tightening around your throat, and the pounding in your stomach. It feels as though your organs are moving, shifting positions to accommodate his selfish length.

“Louder,” he growls.

You try, raising your voice as he continues to grind his hips against yours, his movement losing coordination as time progresses, growing less calculated, more carnal.

It really does feel like he wants to kill you.

You feel the pressure building within you, in time with the tightening of fingers around your neck. Vision growing hazy but body taught with pleasure, you manage to stutter.

“H-Hisoka… I can’t…” Your throat closes tighter, silencing you again.

“I don’t care,” he grunts, his breathing signifying he’s close to the edge. He has no plans of stopping…

You should hate it. It should scare you, terrify you even. The thought of dying: fucked to death on a deserted island by a man who cares not to even learn your name. But your body doesn’t work alongside your rational thoughts.

The constant rhythm, the stimulation, the force, it all comes to a climax.

Your body shakes, his name on your tongue as you feel the release. You tighten around him, your head digging back into the ground, just as he lets out a strangled gasp.

His hand releases your neck as he pushes his lips into yours, his hips moving as he rides out the waves of pleasure. You capture each other’s moans, drowning them in the sheer force of the kiss, passionate and feverous, as messy as anything coming before it.

A final gasp escapes your lips as your body relaxes, growing limp under his as your muscles twitch with remnant stimulations. He pulls his lips back from yours, gliding them against your jaw, his head eventually moving to settle beside yours, with his forehead pressed against the grass.

Breathing. In and out. Just the sensation of it feels like a blessing through all the turmoil. The dark of the night feels duller now, the sky softening into a darker gray rather than a piercing black.

The feeling of time passing is indescribable, minutes turning into hours or hours turning into minutes: you can’t tell. You’re sat there, quietly, simply left alone with your thoughts and a heavy body above you, hands still stuck to the floor.

The silence of the forest continues, as if unaware of the chaos, unaware of the fact you were just fucked to an inch of your life, the leaves still rustling with the same rhythm they did hours before. A peeking dawn cracks over the tops of the trees, the sky hinting to shades of purples and oranges in the distance.

“Hmm…” Hisoka hums, picking his head up to see the changing sky, as if waking from a slumber, the new light now highlighting his face in different ways than before. His face paint is smeared, no thanks to your nose and his sweat, with small pieces having been chipped away. And his hair. His hair has flattened, small pieces falling in front of his face, contrasting their normal pushed-back appearance.

He pushes himself off you, his abs clenching as he lifts himself up, standing up fully with a deep breath. Leaning down, he wipes the slight tint of brown dirt from his knees, the grass and soil falling back to rest on the ground, leaving him completely clean, a different sight from you. In silence, he delicately gathers his clothes, scattered across the grass in different places, putting each item back on, casually but with concentration, eyes no longer darting to you as you watch him, your hands still glued to the ground by some unknown force.

He shrugs his last layer on, smoothing the wrinkles of his shirt as his hand runs across the clove and spade on the front of the fabric before settling on his badge, #44. He straightens it out delicately before adjusting his clothing one more time. As he does, he stares off into the trees, through the dense trucks and into the fading darkness.

“Well, it’s been a pleasure,” he finally says, sighing and waving his hand dismissively as he walks away. With that, your hands are free again, the pressure releasing and allowing you to move your wrists. You gasp, immediately sitting up onto your palms as you watch him, walking back through the forest and to the established path, already beginning to smooth his hair again. Without another word, he disappears into the foliage, his footsteps growing softer and softer as time passes. And then, silence.

And it leaves you: naked, dirty, wet, and disheveled in a patch of grassy soil, blades littered across your body and scattered through your hair. Your breathing slows, the rise and fall of your chest softening as you draw your gaze upwards and to the sky, those warm colors, scaring away the sins of the cold night as they escape to the west, away from the light.

But what could you really have expected?

Perhaps you really were like the others in the end.

Just a mouse.

Happy Birthday Alexis! <3

[bongopowder]

getting lucky! (higuruma)

⁺ . ✦ .　⁺ 　 . ✦ jujutsu kaisen (higuruma x reader) ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . ⁺

content (18+): nsfw, female reader, gambling, casinos, drinking, smoking

word count: 5.0k

a tune for you: a little less conversation (elvis presley)

The blaring lights, flickering at every machine, send a colorful wave of illumination shooting across the stained and patterned carpets. The sweet smell of smoke and crisp bills mingle in the air, filling your nostrils with something seemingly toxic, but also intoxicating. And the sounds, sounds which flood every inch of the space, echoing off the wallpaper plastered on every surface of the room. It was a concoction, a collaboration between the loud, drunken chatter of patrons, the occasional clattering of a machine, and the constant ringing of a buzzer, now simply a hum in your brain. Ding! Ding! Ding!

Some might call it sensational. But to you, the feeling was none other than that of suffocation. Overstimulation. Drowning.

You take another sip of your martini, the intensity of the gin doing nothing to repress the anarchy of the casino atmosphere.

“You seem… distracted?”

Blinking a few times to regain your consciousness, you turn to your friend, who sits beside you at the bar, watching you with an inquisitive gaze.

“Something on your mind?” She probes, her stare wandering out to the casino, to find whatever had captivated my attention. “Or maybe… someone?” Her lips tug up into a sheepish smirk, an almost teasing look.

“What… no,” you shake your head quickly, extinguishing any assumptions she might be making. “I was just, spacing out is all.”

She hums quietly in response, scanning the casino floor as if looking for something specific, her eyes narrowing predatorially. Once she spots whatever target she was searching for, she peers back to you, giving you a knowing look.

“What is it?” You roll your eyes, though not seriously annoyed by her antics.

“Him. You were totally staring at him, weren’t you? He’s perfectly your type,” she grins, flicking her head to gesture out to the casino.

You raise an eyebrow inquisitively, immediately forcing yourself to stare into the maze of machines and tables to find the prey of her little game.

“The one by the slot machines,” she clarifies. “You’ll know which one when you see him.”

Oh.

You hate it when she’s right.

He’s just there, peeking out from the end of the row of machines, sitting casually in a padded chair, eyes glued to the screen. The colors of the lights illuminate his face in a range of purples, and pinks, and whites; his hooked nose casts a small shadow as he turns his head, studying the game before him with tired eyes, just as you study him.

His suit – with the top few buttons haphazardly open and his tie undone – is consistent with his somewhat disheveled and fatigued expression. His black hair is gelled slightly back, slick and reflective, with a few loose strands falling in front of his forehead. Bringing his whiskey glass up, he places it on his temple, eyes dejected as the light on his face turns red. A loss.

“See? I was totally right!” Your friend exclaims smugly, watching as you ogle the man across the floor. You simply shake your head.

“I’m nowhere near drunk enough for that.”

“For what?”

“To approach him.”

“Oh, come onnnn…” her voice eggs you on. “I’ll be here for moral support. Finish your drink and go, before he leaves! He’s soooo your type, you can’t let him walk off!”

You groan, shaking your head again. Internally, you’re conflicted; you can’t help but know she’s right, and you’d be insane to avoid a man who looks like he’s been peeled straight from the front page of some “sexy business” magazine, but to approach him is… something else.

Your friend cheers as you down your martini in two large gulps, the burning sensation matching that of your mental turmoil.

“You’re gonna do it?” She exclaims in excitement. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be here when you get back… or when you don’t come back.”

You roll your eyes at her wink, but you can’t repress your smile. Without wasting another second, you saunter over to the slot machines, taking a deep breath, hoping that by some miracle, those last few gulps of gin give you something good to say.

“So, any luck today?”

Fuck. That’s really all I could think of?

You mentally curse yourself, but your outward façade is unwavering, no thanks to your ever-lacking flirtation abilities. Leaning slightly against the side of the machine, you smile down at him warmly.

His eyes look slowly up to meet yours, his brows furrowing slightly in confusion at your presence. The screen flashes red again, a bright color which draws his attention back to the machine, his elbows never leaving the control panel. Burrowing his face in his hands, he grumbles softly.

“Does it look like it?”

Sitting back, he grabs his drink again, taking a swig with a sigh. His back presses against the chair, and he adjusts his hips, lifting them softly before he resettles with his legs pushed further apart.

You bite your lip, trying to remain composed as you watch him, thinking of something, anything, to keep the conversation going.

“Maybe I can change that.”

That was a good one…

You push off the machine, moving to sit on the armrest of his chair, careful to avoid the side with any potentially essential buttons. Your bare arm brushes slightly against his shirt, and you adjust your cocktail dress, pulling it comfortably over part of your legs.

“You’re too young,” the man replies, somewhat bluntly, but with no hint of annoyance, as he takes another sip of whiskey, his eyes glued to the machine.

“You don’t even know how old I am,” you quip quickly in return, hosting a somewhat sly smile. He can’t be that much older than me… right?

“I know you’re not old enough.”

“But don’t you want to win? I’ve been told I can be quite the lucky charm,” you lie, hoping it might give you a chance. Leaning forwards, you feed the machine a play with some cash.

He sighs, finally looking up at you through his eyelashes, the bags under his eyes becoming more prominent due to your proximity.

“Fine. It’s your money,” he cedes casually, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He lights one, simultaneously pressing a button on the machine to spin the wheels. He takes a long drag, now completely captivated by the on-screen stimulation, the lights continuing to accentuate his sharp features as he exhales a cloud of gray smoke.

The first column slowly comes to a halt, landing on a lemon.

Okay…

And the second column... another lemon.

Your eyes widen in surprise, flickering over to his face to see how he’s reacting. Nothing.

The third wheel feels as though it takes ages to stop, continuing to spin even as you think it’s finishing.

And…

A lemon. It’s a lemon.

Your chest tightens, partly out of nervousness and somewhat in surprise. Turning to see the man again, you watch as his expression shifts and he leans forward in his chair.

Quickly, the machine spits out the winnings: ¥6000.

“Well… I guess you are lucky…” The man grumbles admittedly, sitting back again and taking another drag of the cigarette, seemly deep in thought. He gestures to the money on the control panel.

“It’s yours,” you reply, gesturing back. “Remember?”

“I don’t need it,” he sighs, rubbing his head.

“Then buy me a drink with it.”

He lets out a noise, somewhere between a scoff and a light chuckle, finally reaching forward to grab the money. Scanning it, he counts it quickly to make sure the amount is correct, simultaneously grabbing his whiskey again with the same hand that holds his cigarette between his index and middle fingers. He nods at the money, downing the last bit of whiskey before beginning to stand.

“Alright. I’ll buy you a drink with your own money, if you insist,” he replies casually, trying to appear indifferent. As he stands, however, you see him finally beginning to drink in your appearance, his eyes moving slowly over your body in an almost calculated manner.

The two of you approach the bar, a different one from where your friend stands. She shoots you a wink from across the room: your last source of good luck.

“Another one, please,” the man says as he sets his empty glass on the wood, leaning over the bar with his elbow planted. He glances at me, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh, and a martini… dry, please.”

The bartender nods, turning around to pour the drinks.

“I never did get your name?” His voice draws your attention back to those eyes, piercing yours with their dark gaze. You oblige, telling him your name.

“And yours?”

“Hiromi,” he says, taking another drag of the cigarette before extinguishing it on a nearby ashtray.

You hum and nod as he replies, watching as the bartender pours the vermouth into your martini glass. A moment of silence pervades the atmosphere, broken only by the rattling of cocktail shakers and murmuring of nearby patrons. Hiromi’s eyes remain fixed on another bartender and his whiskey, the spherical ice shifting in the glass as the alcohol is poured over top, the liquid almost twinkling under the lights.

He's not very talkative…

“So, what do you do for work?” You ask, leaning against the bar.

“Law,” he replies, his tired eyes not leaving his drink as it’s placed in front of him.

“Oh, that’s nice…” You smile, trying to save the dying conversation as your martini arrives. “So… are you here long or are you visiting from somewhere else?”

“Visiting, for business.” His eyes flicker to yours, for a moment, before shifting back to his drink.

Is he just not into me or something?

“You know,” you start, now deciding to duck out of the conversation, starting to back away from him slightly. “I think my friend is-”

“It’s a conference of sorts,” he interrupts, sipping his whiskey before turning towards you completely. “Quite boring, really. I’d rather hear about why you’re here.”

“Ah- me?” you perk up again at his interest, “I’m just on a trip with my friend, we’re in the city for a few nights, just to travel.” Man, this guy is bipolar…

“Are you staying here?”

“At the casino?” you ask, shaking your head. “No, just a hotel down the road. This place was a bit out of the budget I think.” Chuckling, you allow the alcohol to soothe your nerves slightly.

“Mmm…” he hums, finishing his whiskey in one swig and setting the glass down gently. “I have a room upstairs, got it for the chip discount,” he explains while tapping his casino card on the wood of the bar.

“Also,” he adds, “the liquor here is… mediocre, at best. I keep nicer whiskey up there, so I can go back for an occasional drink.”

You peer curiously into your martini glass, finding the gin pretty decent.

“So you agree?”

“I agree?”

“That the liquor isn’t great,” he concludes, with a nod.

“Oh, right… Yeah, it’s not the best…” You simply nod, convincingly agreeing with the sentiment, but he appears distracted again, already moving to light a new cigarette. He holds the box out to you, pushing one up with his thumb: a silent offering.

You nod, thanking him briefly before taking the cigarette.

Leaning closer, he places the cigarette in his mouth and removes a lighter from his pocket, placing the flame between you. You move closer to him, allowing your cigarette to touch the fire just as his does; the warmth and light from the dancing flames reflect in his eyes as he looks down at you. He pulls back slowly, eyes unwavering from yours as he blows smoke slowly from his mouth with an unreadable gaze.

“Why me?” His words are direct, but inquisitive, spoken as he takes another drag of the cigarette.

“Why you?”

“Why approach me?” he emphasizes the last word, raising his eyebrows as he looks down at you. Your face heats up at the bluntness of his inquiry, and you smile slightly.

“Not every question needs to be answered,” you reply coyly, gesturing to the drinks. “And clearly the universe is rewarding us for my choice.”

“Mmm… maybe so,” Hiromi nods, cracking the slightest of smiles. His gaze flickers around your face, as if studying your features, slowly and tantalizingly.

After the fleeting moment, his free hand reaches for his whiskey glass. The realization of its emptiness causes his face to twist into a soft frown, his eyes shifting down to the glass as he swirls the ice within it.

“Come on,” he sighs, pushing off the bar as he runs a hand through his gelled hair. “It’s time for another drink.”

You watch as he nods his head towards the elevators casually, a neutral expression still plastered on his features. He wants me to come to his room?

“I’m just gonna finish-”

“Leave it. I have nicer gin,” he interjects without turning back around, waving his hand dismissively before putting his cigarette to his lips.

Before you can reply, he’s already striding away, a slight eagerness to his pace. Shrugging, you take one last sip of the martini before quickly catching up to him, leaving the crystal glass on the bar top, alongside your half-finished cigarette.

The atmosphere of the elevator ride is indescribable; monotonous jazz plays roughly through the poor-quality speakers, the sound mixed only with the rattling of metal from the machine. Hiromi is silent, leaning back against the outdating wooden paneling, seemingly lost in thought as he continues to smoke.

Your heartrate picks up nervously, your mind haphazardly running through the scenarios to come. The man is an enigma.

Ding!

The elevator comes to a swift halt, pausing on the 22nd floor. Just as before, Hiromi wastes no time, stepping out and quickly treading down the long hallway towards his room.

Without a word, he swipes his card to unlock the door, holding it open for you and beckoning you inside the dark room. He places a hand delicately on the small of your back, guiding you through the doorway, sending a shiver down your spine.

The door shuts quietly behind you, leaving the two of you alone in the darkness. Your eyes fail to adjust quickly to the change in light, barely able to make out the silhouette of a large bed and small couch, lit only by the distant city lights outside the large, open windows. The sound of fabric sliding draws your attention behind you as Hiromi takes off his blazer, the cigarette between his lips. You somewhat clumsily fumble for a light switch somewhere on the wall, leaning forward and running a hand over the textured wallpaper.

You feel his large hand wrap around your wrist, pulling your hand away from the wall. Within a second, he reaches to your waist, immediately pushing you back against the wall, pinning you there with his body. He releases your wrist almost tenderly, seductively running his fingers up your arm before tucking one under your chin, tilting your head up.

“You didn’t really come in here just to drink, now did you?” His voice is low and rough against your ear as he leans in, his hand unwavering from your hip as he presses you further against the wall.

For the first time tonight, you feel nervous. It’s as if you can feel your heart pumping blood through your entire body, echoing in your brain. You open your mouth to speak, but the words seem to catch in your throat.

“Mmm… What ever happened to that boldness on the casino floor? Not so confident now?” Hiromi teases, his free hand moving up to move a piece of hair that had fallen in front of your face. His touch is almost gentle, a contrast to what you see when you look into his eyes.

“Well… I just...” You pause, trying to find my voice, though it cracks in my dry throat. You look up at him again, your eyes trying to focus on his own rather than his lips, which quirk into the slightest of smirks. “I- I didn’t… expect…”

“Spit it out.”

The words are demanding, but his tone is playful. He studies your face more, eyes wandering across your features like he did to the slot machine, perhaps more methodically now.

“I just didn’t think… it would be so… quick into it…” You manage to whisper, trying to contain your emotions.

“Quick?” He lets out a sultry chuckle, his hand sliding to the back of your neck. “Oh, trust me, nothing about tonight will be quick,” he mumbles, flicking the bud of his cigarette off into the darkness.

And with those last words, he pulls your face forwards, his lips crashing against yours in a needy, hungry kiss. You return the vigor, passionately tasting the lingering whiskey and smoke on his lips, your hands wandering up his chest, feeling over the buttons of his shirt.

You can feel him smirk against your mouth, his hands now roaming down your body in desperation, as if searching for the best place to settle. He tugs at your dress, bunching the fabric up your thighs until it collects around your hips.

The kiss continues in its hot, rough wake, your teeth occasionally crashing together in urgency, neither of you willing to pull back. Without another warning, he wedges one of his thighs between your legs, grinding against you and pushing you further into the wall.

The sudden friction isn’t lost on you, and you let out a soft noise, the sound swallowed by his mouth. This, however, only seems to fuel his enthusiasm, and he continues to push his thigh back and forth, slowly and tantalizingly grinding against you.

Your hips instinctively buckle into his motions, only driving him to move faster. His hands land on your sides, moving you into the movement himself as he separates from the kiss.

“You’re so desperate for me already…” Hiromi whispers, beginning to line kisses along your jawline. “But I want to hear you a little bit more.” His hand reaches up, gripping your hair in his hand and tugging your head back, giving him easier access to your neck.

Instantly, bites down softly on your skin, the sensation in time with the movement of his thigh. You stifle a moan, biting your lip and pushing your head further against the wall.

You feel his breath on your neck, cold on the area where his spit remains.

“That’s more like it, my dear. Keep those coming…” he breathes softly as he continues to suck at your neck, traveling down to your collarbone.

“You’re… gonna have to work… for it,” you reply, somewhat breathlessly, trying to control yourself as you tease.

He growls softly against your neck, pulling back to look you in the eyes.

“That sounds awfully like a challenge,” he smirks, pulling his thigh away from you. You feel the vacancy as your dress falls back down, an odd chill running through your spine.

“It’s just like gambling… try something and see if you get lucky,” you taunt, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“Lucky, you say?” He grins, leaning down towards your face again, his finger caressing your cheek with small, circular motions. “I think I’ve gotten pretty lucky already tonight…”

His lips just barely graze yours as he speaks, tempting you to move forward to close the distance.

“And I think you’re going to get even luckier.”

He chuckles, shaking his head in mock disapproval before grabbing your thighs from behind, hoisting you up into his arms so you’re straddling his hips. Responding instantly, you wrap your legs around him, his arousal becoming even more obvious between your legs as your hips press against his.

Noticing your eyes widen, he smirks softly, continuing to walk you towards the bed.

“You can handle it.”

The words leave his mouth quickly, and he gives you almost no time to process before he tosses you back onto the bed, his body immediately climbing on top of yours.

“You’re so beautiful, all spread out for me like this,” he whispers, a hint of need in his voice as he settles between your legs. “But I can think of a few ways you’d be even better…”

His hand trails up your slide, lightly grazing over your breasts and coming up to the back of your neck, settling on the zipper of your dress, laying delicately on your spine. Without waiting for confirmation, he tugs on the metal, and the sensation of the zipper teeth opening begins to spread down your back.

Even in the dim light, you can see his eyes widen as your dress gets tossed to the side. He stifles a noise arising from his throat, biting the inside of his cheek as his eyes flicker down.

“My eyes are up here…” You tease, cheeks heating up slightly.

He takes a moment to reply, his gaze still unsettled as he takes in your curves and exposed skin.

“But I think you’d much rather have me down here,” Hiromi eventually replies, his index finger trailing down your sternum, eventually stopping at your navel. The cold sensation of his finger causes your body to squirm, much to your distress.

He grins in satisfaction, finally moving his finger further down your body, hooking it around your underwear.

“Or how about here?” He tauntingly runs his finger along the edge of the lace.

His finger slips further into your underwear as he presses his body down onto yours, his mouth lingering near your ear.

“Remember… I want to hear you,” his whisper echoes in your head as his finger slides down between your folds. You press your head back into the pillow, the touch eliciting a soft, but loud breath to escape your parted lips.

“Fuck…” Hiromi chuckles gruffly into your ear. “You’re so wet for me already…” he whispers needily, letting out his own deep breath.

He eagerly slips his finger further down, sliding it deep inside of you. Your hands instinctively grip his back, pulling at his shirt as he moves in and out of you, continuing to plaster kisses to your neck.

Continuing to work his fingers, two now slipping inside, his thumb rubs circles along your clit in time with his kisses, working feverishly, almost in desperation as he pumps his fingers inside of you. His lips trail down your neck, moving across your clavicle and down to your breasts.

Your hands move to his hair, tangling into the strands and breaking through the hold of the gel. He smiles against your skin, his teeth lightly grazing you before he plants more kisses along your breast, kneading the other with his free hand. You arch into his touch, your body writhing against him as he continues his onslaught of pleasure.

After only a moment, he slowly pulls his hand back and sits up; you feel the emptiness, whimpering slightly and shivering, desperate for more. He grins, listening to your sounds of need as he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean.

“You’ll get it soon…” he hums as if he can read your thoughts, beginning to unbutton the rest of his shirt, the fabric slowly slipping down his broad shoulders as you remove your own underwear. He swiftly throws the garment to the floor, leaving his chest bare, the dim city lights trickling in from the window and highlighting his softly toned body.

He keeps his black tie, shifting his legs further up your body and grabbing your arms aggressively, but still with a gentle touch.

“I don’t believe you’ll be needing these anymore,” he says, his voice husky as he begins wrapping the tie around your wrists, extending your hands above your head and tying them around the metal bar of the headboard with the fabric.

You watch, still twitching slightly from the earlier stimulation, your eyes moving from your hands and back to his eyes. His gaze darkens, moving away from the headboard and immediately moving his hands back down to your legs.

His fingers travel along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, teasingly getting closer to your core, but stopping just before reaching your underwear. You groan in frustration, your eyes silently begging him to continue.

“I’m gonna need to hear a little more than that,” he says, a smirk tugging at his lips as he uses one hand to begin unbuckling his belt.

You purse your lips, gaze wandering down to his slacks as he quickly slips his leather belt from the loops.

“Please…” you murmur, your cheeks growing red in a slight embarrassment.

“Please what?” he teases softly, fingers now beginning to unzip his pants.

Your breath catches in your throat as he tugs his slacks from his hips, the fabric falling to his knees and bunching on the bed. He shifts out of them, leaving him in nothing but a pair of black boxers, his bulge now even clearer, hidden behind only a thin layer of fabric.

“I… I need you…” you choke out, eyes trying to tear away from his hips.

He smirks, climbing further onto you and placing a hand beside your head, using the other to tug at his boxers. He slips them off his hips, now leaving nothing to the imagination.

“Wanna be a bit more specific than that?” he whispers, leaning in close to your ear as he positions himself between your legs, which instinctively spread and wrap around his hips. He groans softly against your neck, using a hand to pull your hips flush to his as he pushes you down into the mattress.

“I- I need you inside of me… now… please,” you finally stutter, your lips only centimeters from his, your deep breathing synchronized in the silence of the room.

He exhales sharply, your words clearly having an affect on him as he pushes closer into you, his cock slowly trailing up and down your folds, now slick with your juices. Grinding softly into you, moaning in your ear, he lifts your legs further and positions himself over you.

“Tell me you’re ready for me,” he whispers, voice laced with need as he presses his forehead against yours.

“Please,” you nod desperately. “Please…”

He growls softly before crashing his mouth into yours, his lips working against yours passionately as he slides himself into you, keeping your hips pressed into the bed.

You swallow each other’s moans, the kiss growing deeper as he drives his hips faster and faster against yours. Stars dance across the sides of your vision as you take every inch of him, his thrusts pushing himself further inside of you, hitting all the right places.

Your hands tug at your restraints, pulling the fabric as every inch of your body tenses, filled with pure pleasure as the back of your head pushes deeper into the pillow.

“God, you’re… y-you’re so tight…” Hiromi stammers, using one hand to grab the headboard as he continues his onslaught, his hips moving rhythmically against yours.

A soft light flickers into the room from outside, the illumination heightening the shine of his skin, a think layer of sweat beginning to form as he continues to grunt and move against you. His hair falls in front of his face, the gel notwithstanding your activities.

His hand travels down to your legs, hoisting one over his shoulder effortlessly before continuing his pursuit, your body crunching together as your foot almost touches the headboard. The changed angle has him hitting new places, your body beginning to quiver from his measured strokes, beginning to speed up with urgency.

Your labored breathing is again disrupted by another kiss, one which is difficult for either of you to maintain, the sounds of pleasure continuing to fill the room.

His grip on your hip tightens, and it grows clear that he’s trying to hold back, his body taught with both pleasure and pressure. He’s teetering on the edge of release, his arms beside you shaking with the effort of holding back. He slowly shifts onto one hand, moving his other down your body, quickly finding your throbbing clit and massaging it with his thumb.

The newfound sensation sends you closer to the edge, your moans only growing louder as the frequency of slapping skin grows quicker.

“H-Hiromi.. I- I’m gonna-”

“I know…” he grunts, not stopping his rhythm. “Come for me, l-let go…”

His words bring you to your climax, the orgasm rippling though your body, caressing every limb as you gasp and shake against him, tightening around his cock.

The sounds alone are enough to push him over the edge too; his body tenses on top of yours, and he releases a low, guttural moan as he buries his face into your shoulder, his hips moving slower and slower to ride out the wave of pleasure.

Your breathing continues deeply, as if you’re desperate for air, starved for it even. His sweaty body continues to press against yours, and you feel the rise and fall of his chest on top of you as he processes his comedown.

“Y-you… you’re…” he chuckles softly as he struggles to get the words out, slowly bringing his head up to look at you with those familiar, tired eyes.

He scoffs again with a smile, shaking his head and moving to remove the tie from your wrists, gently undoing the tight knots keeping you in place. With your wrists released, you bring them to your chest, gently caressing the tender skin, worn down from the pulling and tugging.

“Mmm… I hope it didn’t hurt too bad,” Hiromi says as he settles beside you, relaxing and putting an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his chest as you lay next to him.

“It’s alright…” you whisper breathlessly, placing one hand on his chest, feeling the slick sweat still clinging to his skin.

“You know what might help…?” he says, looking down with a slight grin.

“What?"

“A drink.”

Thanks for reading! <3