#BECOME A CASINO DEALER

[vegasgamingacademy]

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[triglycercule]

mtt playing poker but why would they bet with money thats soooo boring boo boo boo no they bet with increasingly worse and concerning things and its fun for some reason

oh theyd LOVE that shit istg. luck and bluff and tells and lies??? god who knows your own lies and deceit better than another version of yourself??? and yet picking up the other two's tells is oh so very hard because theyre not the same anymore than when they were all sans and sometimes they dont even know themselves so how could they pick up on a mirrored version's? it works out a lot more than they think

killer would have no disregard for what he bets. he plays unpredictably and sneakily. probably faking some emotion here and there to get the hasty (horror) confused and concerned about what he could do and then it turns out killer had a fucking ass hand yet he won??? BULLSHIT horror cries out!!!! but dust just picks up the cards on the ground and deals them again and they play another round. sometimes killer purposely loses. why? he dont know its just to throw a wild card into dust and horror's predictions and mayhaps for the reactions

dust is a dirty player he is a fucking CHEATER‼️‼️‼️ phantom paps are his eyes that he uses to spy on killer and horror's hands. would he need to even try anymore at that point when he could easily win every round? well yes because that wouldn't be a fun game and dust wants to have as much fun as he can in this game of lies. he pretends he doesn't know what horror and killer's hands are. they both know. theyre both more than aware of dust's cheating. and that's why their betting starts going against him specifically and then dust has to figure out how to bet them higher while also trying not to fuck himself over

horror's main thing is just to not get fucked over. goddamnit why did he agree to this he's not as open to getting hurt than dust or killer are!!! (but you still agreed anyways?) so he thinks he's the only one to have a real reason to win (because horror no wanna get hurty hurty owww owww painpainpain ouch!!!) maybe he gets too cocky and ends up betting too high because dust or killer had been losing and he wanted to take a chance. maybe that high bet was actually what got him to win?? it's all a game of chance of course and horror'll only show what he thinks after the round's done. when the cards are dealt and the stakes are up he'll just analyze the hell out of the two (don't YOU hate being analyzed??) and tap his fingers on the table over and over

their way of betting would be like: the winner gets to do whatever the other two said as their bets to the betters. like if dust loses and horror wins and he said he could get sucker punched horror is sucker punching the FUCK out of him. but these three argue they fight and bicker and throw gibes and taunts!!! how would they ever agree on what bets are higher and which are lower ⁉️⁉️⁉️ to horror a bet of saying that he'd have to eat something could be like straight hell to him but killer and dust could just put the argument that it doesn't REALLY mean that much (they know it does to horror) and then force him to bet higher because cmon coward you can do better than that!!! dont you want to get some sort of revenge on us if you lose a previous round and win this one??? and other forms of logic like that 4 dust and killer

killer starts off with an absurdly high bet (because he would) like getting to mess with his soul or something. is he sure that dust and horror have losing hands? he doesn't know. and because killer has no form of limit for himself and that's already a high bar to set for dust and horror to reach (if they don't have good hands i think they'd probably want killer to bet lower. but would they tell him??) so damn it horror has to pull out some bullshit fucking bet like he'll allow himself to get hunted down by the two with every trap he's ever set on a human in horrortale (sooo much more psychological thinking and trickery going on without betting money and instead scenarios its SO FUN). and then could dust fold? does phantom paps say he should? it depends on the cards dust has (and what if he doesn't believe paps based on his own assumptions? (paranoid bitch)) and if he can't fold he has to match the bet or go higher and then he comes up with some bogus situation like ok i'll let you guys dress me up in my human's clothes and throw me in an au and have to do what they did (and OH GOD what about if they make a bet that the other 2 wouldn't actually want to do if they win??? if killer won that round with that as dust's bet would he want someone to reenact something similar to what his own human did and have to watch??????)

oops they just got another new set of scars from last week's poker night and another layer of trauma but why the hell are they sitting down at the table again??? idk man i'm just the dealer here trying not to get killed

[rebeccccccaaa]

Poker Face!

_______________

Spencer Reid x Reader

:: It’s game night at Rossi’s, a little pasta al dente, poker chips from Emily’s place, and a little too much Italian red wine. Poker after hours becomes a new playing field when you and Spencer decide to finish your game of blackjack back in his place. ::

:: warnings :: smuttt! and super mushy gushy fluff, sex under the influence (both parties drank alcohol), strip poker (kinda you’re playing blackjack), afab!reader, no mention of contraceptives oops...

:: authors’ notes :: i didn’t realize until i finished the story that spencer probably has his own poker set, he’s literally from vegas; anyway thanks for all the love on my last fic too sweet, hope you guys enjoy this one just as much <3

WC~ 3.1 k

________________

“Ok, ok! That’s enough!” Emily shouted, swinging her glass around. 

“Careful, Prentiss. This carpet is fine Italian wool. Gifted from my first mother-in-law,” Rossi scolded, Hotch chuckling beside him. 

“You guys are relentless,” she continued.

“I can beat him, I know it!” you shouted, your eyes comically wide. 

“No shot, sweetheart. Reid is literally banned from every casino in Vegas, you think you can really beat him?” Derek commented.

“I may not be banned from Vegas casinos, but I never lose Blackjack,” you argued.

“Honey, you’ve lost eight games in a row!” JJ shouted, laughing and holding her stomach. 

“Nevermind that! I’m gonna beat you Reid, if it's the last thing I do,” you narrowed your eyes playfully at Spencer, who sat as dealer with a giant grin on his face.

“I hate to interrupt this incredibly captivating game of Blackjack, but I’m kicking you out. It's late and an old man’s got to get some rest,” Rossi interrupted, erupting a series of ‘Boo’s’ and groans. 

“Come on, come on. Call your DD’s, call your taxi cabs. Or if you want to stay, you can start washing the dishes,” he bargained. 

Suddenly, all at once, everyone stood up practically scrambling and giggling like kids to avoid cleaning up. Penelope, Emily, and Derek hopped into a cab and Hotch drove JJ home then himself considering he hadn't anything to drink that night. That left you and Spencer, lingering on the sidewalk nudging each other in a fit of giggles. 

“I assume you’re gonna take a cab?” he asked you.

“That’s the plan.”

“So we can share since I don’t live far from you. I’ll walk from your place,” he suggested. 

“Oh no, no. Look what I snatched when everyone started leaving,” you pulled out the briefcase of poker chips that Emily had brought for that night out of your tote, “We’re going to your place and finishing what we started.” 

“Oh boy, you have no idea how long it's gonna take. We’re gonna be up all night!” Spencer laughed, and you gasped. 

“You’re an asshole,” you shoved him, before calling a taxi.

You squeezed in the back of the cab, legs bumping against each other. You felt your skin light up, you’ve always felt a certain way about Spencer. I mean who wouldn’t? Well actually, not a lot of people. You always tried to hide the pangs of jealousy or your faces of reluctance whenever the women you were working with or interviewed on cases would flirt with him, unnecessarily albeit. This happened more often than you care to admit or notice. 

You walked into Spencer’s apartment, tossing your bag on the couch before falling to your knees and putting the briefcase on his coffee table. You opened it up and began shuffling the cards, quite intensely to make sure Spencer wasn’t going to cheat. You knew he wasn’t, his brain was too smart, but you did it for confidence instead. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asked from the kitchen.

“Whatcha you got?” you asked.

“I’ve got a couple of beers, probably a little old. Oh, I still have the bottle of wine that Rossi gave to us for the new year,” he told you.

“Oh! Bring the wine! We’ll drink the beers later,” you winked at him, “Let’s get the fucking party started.”

It was late into the night now. You lost count how many times you’d lost to Spencer already. Just a couple of hours passed, and the wine was almost finished. You and Spencer couldn’t stop laughing and wiggling around. As Spencer shuffled the deck, a request you made him do after every turn, you came up with a devilish idea. One that would definitely get you in trouble should the outcome be anything other than what you would hope. 

“Ooh,” you cooed, mischievously.

“What?” Spencer questioned.

“Oh, nothing, just had an idea,” you were smirking, or rather trying really hard not to burst into laughter. 

“This can’t be good,” he mumbled, shaking his head. 

“Why don’t we spice things up, shall we?”

“No, no way,” Spencer already knew what you were going to say. 

“Strip Poker!” 

“No!” he shouted, a big smile on his face contradicting his words.

“What, you scared? Scared that suddenly I’m starting to beat you and you’re gonna have to take all your clothes off?” you teased.

“No, I am a gentleman and I’m not gonna sit through watching you take all your clothes to prove a point,” he argued sassily.

“You are way too confident for your own good, Dr. Spencer Reid. You’re just chicken.”

“Ok, fine then. You dealer, or am I?” he asked, pouring the last bit of wine into your cup. 

“Why don’t you hit me this time,” you said. 

“You got it,” he responded, “Care to shuffle while I grab the beers?”

“Of course. About time we crack those open,” you smiled widely. 

Now sitting down, face to face. Staring intensely at each other for a moment, hints of mischief and amusement in both your eyes. As you shuffled the cards well, Spencer couldn’t help notice the way your eyes were practically sparkling in the warm light of his apartment. How soft your skin looked in the light too. He doesn’t know when it happened. If it happened just now, or maybe he’s always felt this way about you. 

Maybe it was those times where he felt a little more protective over you than the others on more brutal cases. The feeling of responsibility for you, to guide you, when you first join the team since you were the same age. Or maybe it was when you let him practically talk your ear off about peculiar facts regarding the case you had wrapped up. The small smile of your face knowing he thrived in these moments. The sweet giggle you let out when Morgan and Prentiss groaned knowing he would begin yet another tangent. 

Yeah, it was definitely then he realized how special you were and how much he wanted to keep you in his life; in more ways than one.

But in this moment, when you handed him the cards with the most devilish smirk on your face, Spencer felt a wave of avidity, longing for you more than he ever has before. He felt so conflicted about the game you were about to play. He respected you so much and yet craved to see you, to have you, in this very way for so long already. He didn’t know what to do. He dealt the cards however, entertaining the idea, and you tapped the table for cards before taking a big swig of your beer.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, Spencer’s breath hitched. 

You took off your earrings first and Spencer quirked an eyebrow. 

“What? Were you expecting me to take off my shirt right away?”

“No,” he shrugged before giving you the deck to shuffle again. 

“I swear to-” you cursed, pulling off one of your rings this time.

Your shoes came off, then your socks. All your accessories were scattered on the table before you. The last game you stood up unbuttoning your pants. Spencer clenched his jaw, averting his eyes downward as you peeled your pants down your legs. It took quite literally everything in him to not drool over you. You sank back down to the ground, the bottom half of your body shielded by the table and Spencer looked back at you again. He dealt the cards. You asked for a card, and Spencer knew then you would lose. The probability was certain. When he hit Blackjack and you didn’t, Spencer gulped and you sighed in defeat. 

Staring boldly at Spencer, you disrobed your last garment that would give you some kind of modesty. Your bra is on full display with nothing else but your pair of underwear. You had a crucial decision to make if you ended up losing again and you were seriously considering that would be the case, the butterflies erupting violently in your belly. 

“We don’t have to keep going,” Spencer cleared his throat.

“And why would I do that?” Maybe it was the alcohol in your system that gave you this sudden courage, this seduction. You were starting to have fun seeing Spencer squirming on the couch, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. You suddenly wanted to egg this round on as long as you can. 

“Ok, then,” he muttered, as he dealt the cards, slowly this time.

Spencer had a face down card, assuming it was a value of ten like always, and an eight. You had a seven and a three, you were fucked. You needed an ace and you’d hit blackjack, or you could build up; but that’s risky. Maybe Spencer can go over. You had a chance, you know it. Your chest was moving fast and shallow, but your face was stoic and firm. Spencer on the other hand was antsy; his eyes frantic and his leg bouncing. You knew he was staring at your chest. You planned to use it to your advantage. Was it fair game? Yeah, yeah it was. It wasn’t your fault he was distracted.

“Hit me,” you egged.

“You got it,” he responded. 

A five. Fuck. 

Spencer hit himself and he drew a seven. Those are bad cards. He most likely went over and you might actually finally beat him. 

“One more time, boy wonder,” you snapped. A six. A beautiful six of hearts. 

“I stand,” he mutters, probably knowing he lost. 

“Let’s see those cards, baby,” you teased.

“You first,” he told you, and placed your cards. 

“Blackjack, baby!” 

Spencer laid his cards revealing his seven and eight and underneath a nine, he busted; the cards of course. You won, you finally won. You jumped up in celebration, prancing in your undergarments around the room giggling and cheering. 

“I did it! I fucking did it! I beat the boy genius, fair and fucking square! You lose Spencer, loser!” you shouted taunting him and he couldn’t help the smile painted in his blushing face; he almost forgot you were prancing around almost naked in the middle of his apartment. 

“I- I was distracted,” he shuttered. 

“Damn right you were,” you joked, squeezing your breasts to flaunt them in his face. 

“It wasn’t fair game,” he bantered.

“It wasn’t fair game, my ass. I won and you lost, and you’re being a sore loser,” you mocked as you walked towards him like a panther, playfulness and seduction dripping from your tongue. 

Spencer took the moment you walked near and grabbed your wrist yanking you to stumble into his lap. You were shocked, surprised, a little turned on. You held onto his shoulders, your breathing a little quicker than before. You tried to convince yourself it was from the celebratory dance and not the growing bulge from Spencer that poked you from beneath. 

“I told you, I was distracted,” he told you, his hands finding a place at their hips. Fingers caressing delicately the hem of your underwear. 

“Blah, blah,” you whispered.

“Don’t give me that.”

“Now, Spence, I believe there is something you have to do, is there not?” you whispered.

“What’s that?” he bantered.

“You lost.”

“Right, unfairly I might add,” he joked.

“If all you’re gonna do is talk, then let me do the honors,” you told him. 

“Be my guest.”

Your fingers pulled gently at his tie he wore, pulling over his head and tossing it to the side on the floor. You started unbuttoning his shirt, Spencer staring with heavy eyes at you as you did so.

“I thought we were only taking off one item. We should play another round then if you want my shirt off,” he teased you, bringing his hands to gently hold your wrists.

“Like that’s gonna happen,” you rolled your eyes playfully. 

Spencer relaxed against the back of the couch as you unbutton his shirt all the way. You brought your lips down to kiss softly at his collarbones and his shoulder. Moving along his chest to kiss the other side. His hands moved slowly against your hips, fingers sliding between the fabric of your underwear and your skin. Your skin erupted in chills, a tingle running through your spine making your ears feel hot. You dragged your nose along his strong jawline before nipping your teeth playfully against his cheek. 

He brought his hands up, fingertips tracing your spine until he reached your bra. He skillfully unhooked it leaving you a bit breathless for just a second but a second too long. You could feel it, without even needing to look at him, to know he had such a teasing smile on his gorgeous face. You wanted nothing more than to kiss it off him. 

You shrugged your bra off, tossing behind him giving him a playful wink which made him chuckle. You brought his hands to your breasts as you pulled his head towards you by the back of his neck to kiss him feverishly. Something you both had wanted to do for quite some time now. You wiggled your hips a bit, feeling the prodding against your center, which made Spencer groan lowly in the kiss; his hands squeezing your breasts hard in discomfort. 

“Fuck, you’re gonna drive me insane,” he told you.

“Let me say hi to your little friend, Spence. Or do you want to play for that too?” you taunted him.

“God, no. I couldn’t wait a whole other hour for you to beat me again,” he bantered making you scoff and roll your eyes; his hands shot straight to his zipper to pull his pants down just enough for the both of you. 

You were practically itching to get your panties off. Standing up suddenly, both you and Spencer reached instinctively to pull them off you, his lips attaching themselves to your soft belly and hips. He freed himself from the constricting fabric of his pants and pulled you down, or rather yanked you to him. You couldn’t help the bubbly laugh that came from you making Spencer smile blissfully. 

You bite your lip as you reach between your bodies, lining Spencer up against you perfectly. The warmth radiating from you was driving him crazy. It took everything in him to not suddenly take control and rut his hips against you. You sank slowly down on his length, not so little, you thought yourself.

“Oh jeez, I feel like I could come already,” you gasped, the pressure building in the pit of your stomach felt already overwhelming. Maybe it was the fact you hadn’t had sex in years. You felt starved of this kind of touch, this kind of intimacy. The kind of feeling of Spencer’s cold fingertips touching and gliding across your skin like you were glass. Yeah, that was the feeling you didn’t know you needed, you didn’t realize you craved so much until this very moment. 

“I’m a bit embarrassed to admit the same,” he chuckled breathlessly, “If you don’t start moving, I’m not gonna be able to hold myself back any longer.”

You took this as the green light to start rocking your hips back and forth. One hand resting against his cheek and the other stabilizing yourself against the frame of the couch. Spencer’s hands rocked with you, his way of helping and understanding the rhythm you were going. He started, with gaining confidence, to buck his hips into you and that’s when the pleasure began to build. You panted heavily above him, moans every now and then escaping your mouth to echo against the walls of Spencer’s small apartment. 

“Shit. You feel so good,” he breathed out, “I thought I’d last longer.”

“Please, please don’t come yet,” you begged; bringing your forehead to his. You could see his skin becoming shiny with sweat, his cheeks flush with redness. Spencer, determined to make you come before him, or at the very least with him, reached between your thighs rubbing fast and swift circles against your clit. Your hips jerked with pleasure and Spencer’s name dripped from your lips like honey. 

“Oh, that’s it,” Spencer whispered. His free hand came up and pulled you in a passionate and sloppy kiss. His tongue entwined with your and you moaned wildly as did he. His brain was fuzzy, not that your’s wasn’t also, with the sounds of sex, the rhythm of your hips, the warmth of your slick soaking his fingers. 

“I’m close, fuck I’m so close, Spence,” you whined.

“Let go, sweetheart.”

“Ngh!” you moaned loudly. You dipped your head forward resting your forehead in the crook of his neck. Your bodies were so close, your bare chests pressed against each other. You both could feel the other’s breath and slowly you began to match each other’s erratic rhythm the closer you got to your climaxes. You messily pressed your lips against Spencer’s one last time before the wave of electrifying pleasure overcame you. 

When you came down from your high, all you could feel and hear in that moment was Spencer. His soft pants brushing your ear, his arms cradling you close, his subtle leg shaking from what you assume was him also coming with you. 

“That was really good,” you giggled.

“It really was,” he agreed.

“I’m gonna tell everyone about this,” you whispered wickedly. 

“What?” Spencer questioned fearfully. 

“I beat you in Blackjack,” you reminded him, making him laugh loudly. 

“Give it a rest you would?” he sighed. 

“No way. I’m gonna tell everyone. And everyone’s gonna tease you because I beat you fair and square. Unless, you wanna admit that my boobs were distracting you from your card counting tricks,” you teased.

“Alright, you won fair and square,” he smiled blissfully at you, his eyes soft and gentle in the warm light.

You giggled sweetly bringing him in a tender kiss, definitely not for the last time that night. Your bodies were entwined for the rest of the night until the tepid sunrays peaked meekly through the curtains of Spencer’s bedroom window. The two of you sharing giggles between the sheets with his arms embracing you the way they had been all night. Needless to say, blackjack continues to be your favorite poker game. Especially now more than ever. 

[midnightarcheress]

thinking of you becoming price's personal lucky charm :)

cw: f!reader. slightly nsfw. very rushed/unedited. idk shit about casinos or card games lol. 1 | more casino!141

when your friend begged you to dress up fancy and go out with them, a casino was not what you had in mind. especially not an underground one, entrance hardly visible in the dimly lit street, where you even needed a password to get in.

despite being far from your definition of a night out, you decide to give one of the games a chance. the roulette seemed the easiest, with seemingly less rules to learn, and to your surprise, you're crushing it. starting with safe outside bets, you make your way to straight bets and stay winning every single one of them. 

at your winning streak, you sense two sets of eyes on you, almost burning your flesh with the heat that crawls to your cheeks. you peek over your shoulder and meet two burly men, one with an icy stare and half-covered face, the other with an adorable boyish smirk and a mohawk. still, both glare at you with an intense puzzled gaze, laced with curiosity and an underlying hunger that makes you shiver. 

suddenly, you feel a rough hand settling on your lower back, nearly making you jump on your seat, “what does the pretty lady think about heading to the vip section?” the man says, pearly smile doing a perfectly good job in luring you in, “all that luck needs to be put to good use.”

you ponder for a second, fearing that once you’re in, all your fortune will slip out your fingers and the beginner’s luck will be gone forever. but his sweet brown eyes are too convincing, and you nod, taking his hand and walking through a mysterious door.

“i– i don’t know how to play poker,” you stutter, brows knitted together at the sight of a round table with piles of chips in the center.

"don't worry, love, you're not here to play," a bearded man says, gruff voice followed by a puff of his cigar. he seems a bit older than the one who brought you inside or the two observers, ocean-blue eyes looking at you tenderly, but the sly smirk on his face doesn't go unnoticed.

he pats his thigh, gesturing for you to sit, "my men say you've been quite lucky out there," a smoke cloud forms in front of him, mingling with the strong scent of his cologne, "let's check."

hesitantly, you comply, plush thighs meeting his firm one. he chuckles at your shyness and pulls you closer to his torso by your waist, positioning your ass right above his growing bulge and you bite back a squeal, "name's John."

the game restarts and you watch the dealer distributing the cards. you glance at his hand and he holds five cards, all hearts, which must be a good sign, given the way he squeezed your hip, certainly hard enough to leave a bruise. not that you minded, considering the damp spot forming between your legs.

"would you look at that, straight flush," he flashes you a grin, cigar dangling from his lips as his laugh echoes amongst the annoyed huffs of other players.

his fingers trace your spine, teasingly edging the waistband of your skirt as you try your best not to squirm, "mighty luck you have, love," he whispers in your ear, beard gently grazing your neck.

he hands you one of his golden chips, "for you, as a thank you," your eyes widen at the number 1000 etched in the back, promptly pushing back the gift. he shakes his head, palm sneaking its way to your inner thigh, "there's way more where that came from."

it's safe to say you might become an avid gambler after tonight.

[jamminvroomvroom]

777.

ln x fem!reader

in which lando has a wild week in vegas

on a bit of a roll whoops! had to write something slutty for vegas week/lando’s birthday so here it is! enjoy my loves and please please pleeeeease tell me what you think! 🎲💘 have literally been thinking about this since vegas was announced and i couldn’t stop listening to silk sonic lol

posting this with the @lavenderlando seal of approval 🫡🤍

inspired loosely by 777 by silk sonic

warnings: 18+ minors dni i am so serious!! listen it’s smut. it’s a lot lot lot of smut. alcohol, swearing, fuckboy!lando, one night stand vibes, choking, unprotected sex, general sex acts, some kinky shit, fluff, minor angst bc lando is a moody little shit

5k words

lando had gotten used to the taste of champagne.

the golden bubbles had grown on him over the course of the season, they tasted like success. so, he didn’t protest when several magnums showed up at the round table, some ridiculous happy birthday remix being blasted over the casino speakers.

it was the night of his 24th birthday, and the drinks hadn’t stopped flowing. he was surrounded by his friends, max and ash joining him, as well as the drivers that had arrived in vegas. the crisp white sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows by now, midnight fast approaching, the material half unbuttoned.

they’d started the night in a bar, drowning in a river of alcohol, and now they were in a casino, one of many on the strip. it was all a bit predictable, kitschy decor everywhere he looked since he’d arrived in las vegas, but that’s what made it iconic. the tackiness seemed to mesh well with the old money vibe, and lando knew this would be a birthday to remember. 


everything was mahogany, gold or red. nothing didn’t twinkle in the lights. his suit jacket was slung over his shoulder, curls messy already from the light breeze of november in the desert. his cheeks were champagne rosy, the alcohol going straight to his head and he felt so fucking good.

everyone toasted to the birthday boy, slot machines rattling in the background. lando didn’t usually enjoy this sort of environment, but he was too drunk to care, deciding to embrace the insanity of his life and live on the edge for one night.

he found himself hunched over a gaming table, fingers drumming against the green felt. his eyes scanned the embroidery, taking in the game that was being played. blackjack, he assumed. this really wasn’t his type of place.

by then, as if by some sort of divine intervention, it was.

a flash of red. a swish of hair. manicured nails on a martini glass.

suddenly blackjack seemed like the best fucking game in the world.

lando couldn’t look away from you.

you were stood right opposite him, drink in hand, red satin draping over every curve of your frame. the dress seemed to cover everything, and nothing at all, perfect for the environment you were in. it was daring, enticing, and lando sure liked being enticed.

from the very second he laid eyes on you, he was picturing what you’d look like against a clean, white bedspread, how his name would sound rolling off your tongue in the form of a desperate whimper. it was a crude thought, but he’d become a crude man.

things had changed a lot since his last breakup. he was messy, leaving a trail of clothes and kisses across every country he stepped foot in. he didn’t get off on the number of people he’d slept with, he got off on the rush of someone new, and he knew before he’d even touched down in vegas, a week earlier than he needed to, that this would probably be the messiest week of his life.

but then he saw you, and it felt weird. he didn’t just want to learn your name and bend you over the nearest surface, gone from your bed before the sun was even in the sky. he was addicted at first sight; he had to take you home, at the very least.

his fixation on you was broken by the dealers voice; it seemed like you were up to play next and you needed at least another player. lando’s eyes flitted back to you, wondering if he even knew how to play blackjack before he offered himself up to you on a glaring shiny platter. you took the decision away from him, because this time, you were staring right back at him.

internally, he was choking on air. externally, he was mentally undressing you with a filthy smirk on his face.

“wanna play, birthday boy?” you smiled coyly, an eyebrow quirked seductively. he could have fallen right to his knees at just the sound of your voice. sweet and spicy.

lando realised that you’d seen the embarrassing display the boys had put on for him. maybe you even knew who he was. he definitely wanted to know who you were, and that’s why he decided to give in to your electric stare.

“you’re on.”

he lost.

every. single. game.

numbers were never lando’s thing.

it was hard to care, though, when he had you sprawled out on the desk of his hotel room, his lips all over your neck.

the walk from the casino up to his room had been short, a bottle of champagne in his left hand and the curve of your ass in his right. there’d been very little small talk, very little convincing needed to seduce you, not with the way you’d been eye-fucking from opposite sides of the table, cards laid bare before you both.

he’d kissed you in the elevator, sloppy and desperate, pressed you against the door to his suite, and quickly pinned you to the other side of it once you were finally inside. you tasted like fruit liquor and cigarettes, your dress slowly bunching at your hips as his hands roamed the silky material. lando was restless, craving everything you had to offer, so he picked you up effortlessly, spreading his palms across the back of your thighs.

it had been a short walk to the desk from the door, and he placed you down carefully. lando slid the dress up your thighs, his finger grazing your calf as he did. you were arching into him, pushing his jacket off his frame and frantically tugging at the buttons of his dress shirt until it was hanging undone off his shoulders.

the look in your eyes sent his blood rushing, frenzied and desperate for him as much as he was for you. taking your jaw in his hand, he tilted your chin towards him until you were looking up at him through your lashes. lando tucked your hair behind your ear, continuing to graze down your neck until he reached the flimsy strap of your dress.

“are you gonna let me have you?” his grip on your jaw tightened and he studied your face.

he gulped when your lips twisted into a smile, conniving, dangerous, red lipstick smudged deliciously. you hadn’t caved into his touch, fallen into submission, and suddenly lando was swimming way out of his depth.

it seemed he’d finally met his match.

you pushed him away, giggling as he stumbled backwards towards the bed, and stood from your place on the desk. slowly, you made your way towards him, until you’d backed him up all the way to the foot of the bed, at which point he collapsed. he scrambled up onto his elbows, smirking up at you.

your eyes raked over his frame, swollen lip caught between your teeth. he looked disheveled in the best way, shirt framing lean sun kissed skin.

slowly, you unzipped your dress, letting it fall off your frame. the material pooled at your feet and you stepped out of it carefully, kicking it away. lando had moved up the bed so that he was sitting against the headboard, watching you hungrily. you were left bare, aside from a lacy thong and red stilettos. lando could have cried tears of joy.

happy fucking birthday.

lando’s eyes lit up like 777 had spun onto a slot machine. he may have lost at blackjack but he’d definitely hit the jackpot.

you crawled onto the bed towards him, not stopping until you were sat on his lap. his hands scaled your thighs, stroking up and down the soft skin. you rolled your hips, experimenting, toying with him, and he groaned, low and loud.

“does this answer your your question?” you whispered, leaning into him so that you could loop your arms around his neck.

lando kissed you, slow and sloppy, sitting up even further just to feel you closer. he could feel your nipples brushing against his bare chest, low whines breaking through the kiss your shared every time you felt too sensitive. your bodies were rolling together in unison, friction building nicely between your legs.

he was growing impatient, itching to get rid of the remaining barriers between you. lando held you still, tight, flipping you both over so that he was hovering over you. his lips worked your neck, hickeys littered down your neck and over your collarbone, while his hands moved down your body. he toyed with the band of your thong, snapping the material against your waist.

lando left you there, keening for his touch, while he peeled his shirt off. his trousers went next, along with his boxers, and then he was right back where he’d left off. your panties disappeared in a flash, his kisses punctuated by a splotchy purple mark sucked below your left breast.

and then he was buried between your legs, licking stripes into you like he was starving. he moaned into your pussy when he felt the first pull on his hair, spurring him on. he applied more pressure, taking it slow, revelling in the way you tugged harder and harder with every swipe. lando slid two fingers through your folds, coating them in your slick.

when he slid the digits inside of you, his mouth latched onto your clit, flicking against it relentlessly. he found the perfect rhythm, balance, everything he was doing made you see stars behind your eyelids. you were thrashing, helpless, and he was getting off on it.

you jaw went slack when you raised yourself onto your elbows just to find him grinding against the mattress, groaning into your cunt at the sensation, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. you couldn’t even hold yourself up then, dropping into the mattress as you fell apart beneath him.

lando resurfaced a few moments later, a glint in his eyes, his mouth glistening in the dim light. your vision was hazy, body shattered, but you ached for more of him. the feeling only intensified, your legs tightening around his waist, when he raised his coated fingers to his lips, lapping up every last drop of you. his tongue swirled around his digits lewdly, and you shuddered.

lando didn’t mind at all when you pushed him onto his back, clambering on top of him. you looked wild, animalistic even, as you guided the tip of his cock through your folds, and he folded his arms behind his head to enjoy the view. once you’d slicked him up, not that he really needed it, you sunk down on him.

fingerprints stained your hips; his grip on you increased tenfold as you adjusted around him, your walls throbbing around his swollen cock. lando sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth, holding you down on him. your movements were stuttering, trying to hold yourself together and ignore the way he fit inside you so damn perfectly. you tested the waters, rolling your hips a few times, and his eyes rolled back in his skull.

you felt heavenly, like velvet and butterflies.

he lost all sense of control, every fibre keeping him from wrecking you. his grip didn’t loosen when he fucked up into you, bending his knees for any extra leverage he could get. your nails scraped down his chest, his abs, dripping at the way he tensed under your touch. you tried your best to keep up with him, to meet his thrusts, holding your own for longer than you thought you would.

and then you were folding, melting into his chest, one of his hands pulling both of your behind your back, holding you down as he fucked you into your orgasm. your whines were panted right into his ear, sending him hurtling towards his own high.

lando couldn’t help himself, spilling into you, your body pressed helplessly into his. you were exhausted, wrecked, grinning lazily against the thrumming of his heartbeat.

with your hands held behind your back, you couldn’t stop him from planting you on your back, snaking down your body, burying his tongue deep inside you. the room was filled with the sound of sex, his tongue dragging over you like you were the last meal on earth and he was ravenous. he cleaned up the mess he’d made quickly, sounds that would make the population of sin city blush bouncing off the walls.

your vision was white, maybe your were screaming, it was hard to know what was going on when he had you about ready to ascend. when you fell over the edge, you were boneless, at one with the bed. you watched as he licked his lips, flopping onto the bed beside you.

he stroked your hair and you hummed, content and satiated.

lando didn’t dare look away from you while you came down.

apparently, it was rare to wake up after a wild night in vegas and remember the events of the night before.

lando remembered everything.

the exact shade of your eyes, the feel of red satin and black lace, the way you tasted.

your lips on his skin, hips in his hands, the way you moulded pliantly to his touch.

the way you gave as good as you got.

he was smiling before he’d even opened his eyes, reaching blinding across the bed, ready to propose round… four? five? lando had lost count.

warm hands met cold sheets and suddenly he was wide awake.

lando sat up dead straight, searching for a sign of life in the room. there was none. no shoes on the floor, no dress to match, no thong hanging from the door handle. a pit formed in his stomach.

is this how he made people feel?

waking up alone after the best sex of his life and no trace of the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on was quite miserable.

he thudded back into the mattress, hands shielding his eyes from the burn of daylight. he felt like shit, that was undeniable. when he’d fallen asleep, naked and with you nestled into his side, he couldn’t wait to wake up, perhaps arrogantly thinking that you’d be waking up with him. what was that saying, again?

hope breeds eternal misery.

his brain was wracked with the image of you and him, champagne flowing right before he’d taken you again, bent over the desk. and then again in the shower, a harmless attempt to clean yourselves up ending up with you on your knees before your cheek was pressed against the shower screen.

lando tried to fathom why you’d leave after the night you’d shared. there was something about it, something more intimate in the desperation you’d shared, that left him senseless as to why you were gone before the sun was in the sky.

just like he usually was.

it dawned on him, quite quickly, that the habits he’d made of quick fucks and fast getaways was not good form. it was reckless and casually cruel, and he felt guilt for the first time since his string of one night stands had begun. perspective was a crazy thing.

when he sluggishly made his way out of bed, he felt even worse.

-

“where’d you get to last night? we lost you after that terrible game of blackjack.” max teased, sipping his coffee.

lando found himself at the breakfast table, head rested on his hand and hoodie pulled tight. he wasn’t in the mood to talk, but max was like a dog with a bone; there was no avoiding this conversation.

“met a girl.” lando mumbled, aimlessly stirring the tea he knew he wasn’t going to drink.

“ah, understood.” max said, grinning knowingly. but then, as if lando’s bad mood finally clicked, he continued. “wait, why are you in a mood then?”

“tired.” lando replied, monotonously. he wasn’t quite sure how to unpack this one.

“bullshit.”

“woke up alone.”

“oh.”

“she was- i don’t know. just thought it would be different, that’s all.” lando couldn’t disguise the deflated tone of his voice.

“don’t tell me you caught feelings from a shag.” max rolled his eyes, chomping away at his toast. lando could barely stomach the sight of food.

“shut up, i’m not saying i fell in love. just liked something about her.”

“well, anything can happen in vegas. you never know, mate. she might find her way back to you.”

lando was getting ready for the netflix cup before he knew it. he’d managed to shake off max, escaping to the darkness of his room, the curtains drawn and the lights off.

he pretended it was the hangover that had him laying face down on his bed.

the last thing he wanted was to go and play corporate circus on the golfing green, but he figured some fresh air wouldn’t hurt. and so, he was in the backseat of a car well on his way to the tournament.

carlos couldn’t distract him, neither could alex or pierre. rickie fowler was much less interesting that he hoped, or maybe he wasn’t and lando just wasn’t interested enough. not even zak’s mclaren printed trousers could cheer him up.

lando was leaning into his golf club, starting mindlessly into the crowd, waiting for this garish event to begin when he caught a glimpse of someone he recognised. in a sea of influencers and obnoxious businessmen, there you were.

there you fucking were, in your knee high boots and a mini skirt, sunglasses perched on your nose, skintight top under an oversized blazer and hair shining under the warm sunlight. he lost his balance, the golf club slipping from underneath him, and the only thing that kept him upright was the burning urge to keep his eyes on you.

just who were you?

lando didn’t need to clarify whether or not you were looking at him, too. no, you made it abundantly clear by the way you winked at him, before pushing your sunglasses back up the bridge of your nose.

you fucking winked.

he took a step in your direction, shaky legs ready to carry him all the way over to you. he only had your first name and he craved your second, your phone number, anything really. he’d just take the small talk, to be completely honest.

but then the klaxon screeched, knocking him out of his trance and he whipped round to discover that they were ready to tee off. lando cursed under his breath, rapidly turning to search for your face but you were nowhere to be seen.

had he imagined you? had he imagined all of it?

every golf ball hit was hit with frustrated vengeance.

the week disappeared in a bittersweet blur.

lando had achieved multiple hangovers and about zero dollars in winnings, but he’d successfully managed to take his mind off of you.

okay, so that was a bare faced lie, but if lando didn’t lie to himself, he wouldn’t be able to lie to anyone else.

he wouldn’t be able to lie to max that he was no longer moping. he wouldn’t be able to lie to the media when they asked him if he was oh so excited about the race. he wouldn’t be able to lie to his team when they asked him if he was still suffering the consequences of his week long hangover.

lando had been rushing around all day, after a solid p4 in qualifying the night before. the entire day had been horrendous, sequins and bright lights being shone in his eyes. all he wanted to do was hide, get in the car and then go to bed.

fate had other plans.

lando was rushing to the front of the grid for the national anthem, certain that whatever display that was about to occur would make him nauseous. he was derailed on his journey, caught by rachel brookes in the pitlane, and then accosted by martin brundle once he’d made his was onto the grid.

“good qualifying yesterday and good luck today!” martin called to lando, turning to wrestle another insufferable celebrity.

as lando was making his getaway, ready to jog through the masses of people to his place at the front, he went barrelling into another body, putting his hands out to steady himself and the poor person that had become his collateral damage. as he regained his balance, he must have looked like a cartoon character, eyes bulging out of his head.

“are you stalking me?” was all he could choke out when his eyes met yours.

what the actual fuck were you doing here?

lando had given up on the possibility of ever seeing you again, and yet, here you were, stood under the bright floodlights on the grid, his office. this was the last place he’d expected you to show up, paddock pass swinging from your neck. again, what the actual fuck were you doing here?

“might as well be, at this point.” you teased. “hopefully you’ll do better today than you did at golf on tuesday.” you smiled coyly up at him, tucking your hair behind your ear.

lando was on quite the time crunch, glancing at the time on the clock at the front of the grid. he had a minute to spare, if he was lucky, but he had to talk to you, before you inevitably disappeared again.

“thought i’d get at least your phone number before you left.”

“from what i hear, you don’t usually stick around long enough for those.” you smirked.

well, his reputation certainly proceeded him. he couldn’t really argue with that.

“maybe i’m trying to change that.” lando attempted to flirt but really, he sounded desperate. you didn’t seem to mind.

“i’ll make you a deal,” you proposed, leaning in just a little bit closer. lando’s breath hitched in his throat. “get on that podium, and i’ll be waiting in your hotel lobby.”

“and if i don’t?” lando’s mouth was dry.

“maybe i’ll see you next year.”

lando watched you walk away, your hips swaying tantalisingly, wondering if the hefty fine he would be bollocked with would be worth it if he didn’t move his ass for the national anthem.

this would be the drive of his fucking life.

lando couldn’t recall a time he’d left a track faster in his life.

media duties were rushed, so was the shower he had before he fled. it was lucky he was already on the strip, so the walk to his hotel was blissfully short.

he entered the lobby with a shit eating grin and a comically large bottle of champagne in hand.

a string of second places had gotten rather frustrating, but this one felt particularly good. a podium was a podium, fair and square, and assuming you’d kept to your end of the bargain, he was in for the best celebration of his life.

sitting pretty at the bar that stretched through the lobby, you were waiting for him, heels swinging from the stool you rested on. denim clung to your hips, a dark corset style top moulding to your curves. he wondered if love at first sight was real; lust at first sight certainly was.

lando’s eyes beckoned to towards him, and you slipped inconspicuously into the elevator together, not wanting to draw too much attention to your rendezvous. it was a futile attempt, frankly, because he had you backed into the mirror before the doors had even fully shut.

kisses on your neck had your eyes fluttering closed, one of his knees slotting comfortably between your thighs. one of his hands was clasped tight around the neck of the neck of the bottle, giving lando the fantastic idea to find your neck with his free one. he held you firmly, forcing you to look at him.

“i’m gonna make you wish you never left.”

-

hours on the mattress pulling countless orgasms from one another left you both weak, exhausted, a little bit clingy.

lando felt electric. no other person had ever left him so feral, so euphoric.

he’d had you first against the door, pulling your jeans off and pinning you against it, your thighs in his firm grasp as he fucked you into the wooden panel. then, he’d taken you to bed, your knuckles turning white from your brutal grip on the headboard when he’d planted you down on his mouth. two orgasms later, you were face down in the sheets, ass in the air for him while he slammed into you like his life depended on it, pulling you into his chest by your hair when you reached your climaxes.

all that hard work called for a bath, where you both found yourselves now. it had started off quite innocently, sat at opposite ends of the extravagantly large bathtub amongst the bubbles. but then you’d given him those eyes, and then your back was pressed against his chest, your body draped over his. his head was nestled into the crook of your neck, one arm slung over your waist. his other hand brought the bottle of champagne to his lips, the liquid going down smoothly. lando pressed the bottle to your pursed lips too, trading backwards and forwards while your bodies relaxed into the hot water.

lando’s hand on your waist was getting restless, fingers drumming over your abdomen, up, up, up, until he found your breast. he circled your nipple with his finger, not quite touching the bud yet, but he could feel it hardening from his scarce touch. your hips rolled backwards into his, feeling him hardening once again against your lower back. lando cupped your breast, massaging it in his hands before he switched, flitting between your tits.

you slumped somehow even further into him, not a millimetre of space between your bodies. he was winding you up beautifully, heat burning between your legs once more. you didn’t know how you did it, how you could be so ready for each other after the eventful evening you’d already shared.

lando was flicking your nipples between his finger, switching back and fourth until you were moaning quietly. you took charge, the sensitivity building too quickly, and so you rolled over in his arms, clambering into his lap.

the bath water splashed around you, moving in small waves across the tub as you situated yourself on top of him, grinding down on him until he was buried deep within your walls. he found that spot, rolling your hips against his, and then you were rocking up and down on him, nice and slow. he touched parts of you that never had been before, the pace and the angle intensifying every little sensation. your head was thrown back, hands clawing at his shoulders for something to hold onto, just for the feel of him.

lando reached over the edge of the bathtub, blindly searching for the bottle he’d discarded while you’d been switching positions. he felt the green glass grazing his fingertips and brought it back to his lips, eyes trailing over your body in sheer awe.

he couldn’t help himself, taking a sip before tilting it towards you, pouring the golden bubbles over your clavicle, jaw tightening - just like your cunt did at the sensation - as he watched the sticky alcohol drip down over the curve of your bouncing breasts.

you quivered when you felt his tongue lap over your nipple, then the other, dragging over your sodden flesh until he reached the junction between your neck and your shoulder. he bit down, hard, eyes rolling back at the taste in his mouth and the way you clamped down around him, whimpering out between breathless pants.

lando felt you let go, stuttering on his cock and sinking down on top of him, the water - now lukewarm - soothing your tired limbs. he held you close, basking in the intimacy of the moment, his hearing honing in on the dull hum of ecstasy you expelled.

the bath grew colder and colder as you sat there, comfortable silence filling the air along with the quiet rush of water that came with any movements made. when the time came, lando held you up as you got off of him and stepped onto the plush rug, quickly following suit. you were eyeing the shower when he turned to hand you a towel.

“i think i need a shower, as much as i enjoyed the bath.” you spoke, opening the screen and stepping in to adjust the knobs.

lando weighed up his options, agonising over joining you or doing his back in. he couldn’t exactly tell his trainer that his back gave out from too much sex.

“am i invited?” lando asked, stepping in behind you, hands on your waist.

“seems like you’ve already invited yourself.” you teased, looking at him over your shoulder.

“no funny business, you.” lando rested his head on your shoulder.

“from me? you’re just as bad.” you quipped, letting the hot warm stream all over your flushed bodies.

lando stayed as he was for a second, but then you turned your head again, looking at him from the corner of your eye and he needed to kiss you. he couldn’t help but, and so he twisted you round to face him and leaned in. you were more than receptive, fingers raking through his wet curls.

the hot water rained down on you while you stood there, holding each other close. lando couldn’t put his finger on it, why he didn’t want to let you go. he couldn’t even begin to process the idea of having anyone else in his arms like this. it was absurd, really, but he was too caught up in the moment to care.

when you were both clean and dry, you laid down in bed, gazing mindlessly at one another. his eyes followed the lines of your face, the curve of your lips. he learned a lot about you, a formula 1 fan with who ran her own business and took herself on holiday to vegas. the conversation flowed like the champagne had and you were laughing at all his stupid jokes. in turn he grinned like a fool at your quick wit, the sound of your laughter.

“so what are you doing next? back to work?” lando asked, an idea forming in his mind like a tornado.

“nope,” you popped the p. “giving myself some well deserved time off.”

“have you ever been to abu dhabi?” lando asked, lips quirking mischievously.

-

inbox me your thoughts bc aaaaaaaa 😨😨

-

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[sarcasticscribbles]

Statement of Lucien Ace, regarding their occupation as a dealer at the Russian Roulette Casino in central London. Original statement, January 28th, 2012.

Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.”

“I'm known as “Lucky”; I never lose a game. As a dealer, I watch people come in to my casino, but never out. Once you've felt the risk of death, the urge to test your luck becomes a hunger. People bet their whole life on cards; and I watch them lose the light in their eyes.

Life is a chance – unpredictable gamble with every turn of the cards or roll of the dice. Death is a risk; a consequence lurking in the shadow. In the end, fate is the only winner.

No bribing or begging can change luck of the draw, and I’m just here to deal you your cards.”

Lucien, "Lucky" Ace, a dealer of Life and Death at the Russian Roulette Casino. People trade the chance of Life for the risk of Death; sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, are you feeling lucky?

Make a TMA Avatar with me: The End.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: told myself to slow down, didn’t.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You finish your cocktail before you go into the concert hall. Roxie grabs a third and you pass, not wanting to run back and forth to the bathroom. Besides, you don’t really like the way the vodka stirs in your stomach and little behind your eyes.

The band is decent. You don’t know any of the songs and only vaguely heard of the artist they are a tribute to. Still, you enjoy the live show; you focus on their instruments and how they use them. You always wanted to be musical but never had a sense of tone or melody.

By the end of the set, you’re yawning. Your sister is on her fourth drink and you can’t tell if she’s swaying to the music or if it’s more than that. As the rows empty, you shuffle out with the rest of the concert goers. The bright lights of the casino greet your squint and your ears pulse slightly from the noise of the strumming and crashing show.

“Mm, so, what’d’ya say?” Your sister makes almost every word into one, “how do we spend this?”

She fishes out the chip and you give a sheepish frown. You almost forgot about it. You still think you should turn it in. You don’t feel right spending someone else’s money. You do that often enough, much too old to be living off your mom.

“Don’t be boring,” she warns, “jeez. It’s just cards. Odds are, whoever dropped it, would’ve lost it to the house anyway.”

She claps her hand around your shoulder. You pull back the sleeve of your cardigan to check the time. It’s after ten! You haven’t been out that late since... ever.

“I’m not boring,” you cross your arms and shrug her off. “I just... am different than you.”

“Boring,” she repeats. “You can’t spend all day in your room.”

Yes, you can. And you do.

You don’t argue. When she’s like this, it’s only bound to become a scene. There are too many strangers around for that.

“Black jack,” she declares and spins the coin. It slips from her grasp and falls between her feet. She bends over shamelessly in her dress to pluck it up. “Come on, let’s clean up.”

She struts ahead and you shuffle after her, nervously wringing the strap of your purse. Hopefully she loses it quickly and you can just retreat home in defeat. You catch up to her as she reaches the stairs. She giggles as she leans on the railing and you take her other arm, trying to support her wobbly steps.

“Want another drink?” She asks.

“No, think we’re good.”

“We?” She scoffs, “I’m fine.”

“Please, Rox, let’s just find a table,” you peek around as her voice rises a bit louder than you like.

“Pfft, fine, but if I win, I'm getting a drink.”

You nod. Go along to get along. That’s what your mother always told you when it came to your sister. She’s more like your father than she cares to admit.

You get to a table and she sits easily on the high seat of the tall stool. She lays down the single chip and the dealer offers to break it into smaller ones. She nods and shrugs. You envy how smoothly she just breezes through things.

You stand behind her. You don’t want to take up a seat and the stool is too much of a climb for you. You can see it wobbling as you attempt to hitch yourself up with the crossbar. You’re good, you shouldn’t get comfortable.

You listen to the shuffle of cards as your sister murmurs something you can’t make out. You can only hear the low drone of voices as you stand back. You sidle out of the way as a man claims the empty stool beside your sister. He buys in and another hand is dealt. Hasn’t she lost yet?

The man leans into your sister and you grimace. She turns her head to listen to him and she giggles. Your cheeks blaze hotly and you cross your arms and rock. Neither seem to notice you as they get closer and closer.

As the game progresses, you can only really make out what the dealer says; the different numbers that have grumbles coming from other players. You bring your hand up to pick at the button on your cardigan. The man puts his arm around your sister’s back, his hand on her hip as wiggles in her seat coyly. What about Tom?

You peer around awkwardly. Do you stop her? Remind her of the boyfriend that got her the tickets for tonight? You bounce in your flats and pause as you find someone else staring back at you. Or are they? Just as quickly as your eyes meet, the stranger’s eyes flit away and he’s back to chatting with another man. It’s the very same man who gave you the chip. Maybe her forgot you. That’s not a surprise.

You return your attention to your sister. The man has moved his arm between them and your sister squirms. You watch his elbow as he pulls his hand back. He’s touching her leg. She’s wiggling and suddenly, she shoves him away and screeches.

“EH! I got a boyfriend, perv! I said stop.”

Her voice carries along the high ceilings and you cringe. You back up, cowering away as she stands and the stool teeters dangerously. She fists her hand and you think for a moment she might just hit the guy. He scoffs and turns in his seat.

“Babe, just wanted to buy you a drink.”

“Whatever. You fucking creep!” She hollers.

“Ma’am,” the dealer calls from the table, “is there a problem?”

“Y-yeah,” she hiccups, “this dude had his hand up my skirt.”

“She’s drunk,” the man shakes his head, “listen to her.”

“I’m--” your sister’s denial catches in her throat, “doesn’t mean he can just touch me.”

“Ma’am, if you’re drunk, we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”

“I’m fine. I'm not that...” She slides off the stool and stands, grabbing the chips in front of her seat and tossing them across the table. “You’re all a bunch of crooks.”

Her ankles tangle as she spins and she barely gets her balance before she storms away. Her strides are uneven as she bobbles drunkenly. You watch after her with wide eyes before you follow. She leads you into the bathrooms as she growls and grumbles. She slams into a stall and you stand outside.

You wait until she comes out. She’s quieter and her eyes are hazy. She washes her hands and applies a new coat of lip gloss.

“What a bust,” she pouts and rolls her eyes, “one more drink and we’ll go.”

“Maybe we should just leave now.”

“That guy was such a pervert,” she sneers at you, “you saw where his hand was.”

You nod, “yeah, I did...”

“So, you know I wasn’t being dramatic.”

“Yeah, but... everyone heard.”

“Oh fuck off,” she pushes your shoulder and stomps past you.

You feel bad. It’s not that she shouldn’t defend herself. You admire that she can, but she didn’t need to be so obnoxious. You trail after her into the casino. She heads directly for the bar. You hang your head and wait behind her. This time, she doesn’t offer you a drink. She’s mad at you now so it’s the silent treatment.

“Honey,” another man approaches, “how about I get that for you?”

“Huh?” She babbles, “oh, sure, baby, that’s sweet.”

The man offers his card to the bartender and orders a highball. He leans his arm on the tall bar top as he faces your sister. She bats her lashes at him and giggles as she pulls her drink closer.

“What’s your name, gorgeous?” He asks.

You blink. It’s like you’re not even there. You watch awkwardly, wishing the floor would swallow you up. Instead, you find an empty stool one seat away.

“Roxie,” she answers as you struggle up onto the seat. “And you, handsome?”

“Sam,” he returns, “what’re you drinking then?”

You notice him touch her glass along the brim but can’t see much else around your sister. She replies and his own drink is served. You shrink down and sigh. She’ll get her free drink and then you can just leave. You hope. You hold your chin as you dread another scene.

“Can I get ya something?” The bartender approaches.

“Er, water, please,” you choke out. He seems disappointed but gets you a glass.

You try not to overhear your sister and that man. It’s awkward and you hate this. It’s not the first time she’s done it either. The few times she’s brought you along, you’ve somehow become a third wheel. It reminds you of when you were kids and your mom forced her to take you with her somewhere. She doesn’t actually want you around, she’s genetically obligated.

“Woah, baby, you okay?” The man raises his voice and your sister’s body slumps. Shoot. No.

You barely get off the stool as the man clings to her drooping body. She giggles wildly as you tweak your ankle and rush over. That man, Sam he called himself, seems somewhat calm given the situation.

“Slow down, babe,” he chortles, “Jesus.”

She’s drunk. You knew she shouldn’t have had another drink. Your eyes meet Sam’s and he squints.

“You know her?”

“My sister,” you murmur.

“Oh, right, well...” he clears his throat and looks around, “you can take care of her then.”

“Wait--” you barely keep her up as she leans on you as she’s almost sideways on the stool.

He’s just leaving you? What the heck? You guess if he can’t get anything out of her, she isn’t worth the effort.

You sniff and struggle to slide your sister down to her feet. She’s heavier than you expect and her height makes her difficult to balance. You glance over as the bartender nears.

“Everything okay?” He asks sternly.

“We’re leaving,” you assure him, “sorry.”

“Five minutes,” he taps his watch face, “or I call security.”

You nod and move your arm around your sister’s back, “please, Rox, gotta work with me.”

She laughs again, “hey, where’d that cute guy go?”

“Please,” you beg again, “don’t...”

“Oh, hi,” she touches your faces and squeezes your cheeks, “baby sister.”

You hate when she’s like this. She’s always been a drinker, ever since high school when her friends would sneak out bottle from their parents’ stash. What was once an act of rebellion as a teen is now concerning as an adult.

“Excuse me, everything okay?” The timbre makes your heart drop and you nearly let go of Roxie as she leans in the other direction.

You look up. Oh god. It’s him. That dark-haired man in his expensive suit.

“I’m just... we’re on our way out--”

“She alright?” He points at your sister.

“Tipsy,” you utter.

“I see,” he pushes his hair back as it slips forward, “can I help?”

“Uh, you don’t--”

Before you can answer, he has your sister’s other arm. He almost lifts her entire weight off of you as he supports her against his shoulder. Your entire body is emblazoned in humiliation. You refuse to look above the floor as you’re certain you must have an audience.

You get your sister across the floor and into a hallway. There's an exit sign ahead but you're all turned around. The man stops you and Roxie.

"Where'd you park?" He asks, "this leads to Lot 5."

"Oh, uh..." you blanch. You hadn't thought of any of that. You slouch under Roxie's weight and try to see around her. "I'm not sure but... I don't drive. She was supposed to."

"Ah," he clucks, "and now she can't."

"Right," you agree glumly, "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? Why?" He asks.

"I didn't think... I let her--"

"Did you let her drink or did she make that choice knowing she was supposed to get behind a wheel?" He challenges.

"I guess... yeah. Sorry."

"Really, doll, no need to keep going on like that," he dismisses, "well, it's late and I can't in good conscience let you wander out with her like this. Especially if you don't have a way home."

"I could..." you begin. A taxi? You'd have to ask your mom to pay the driver when you get home. "Why would you... care?"

"Well, as the owner of this establishment, it won't look good on me if two pretty girls left and went missing," he chuckles then stops himself, "sorry, that's not funny. I just... we overserved your sister obviously so it's on us."

"Owner?" You gulp. You didn't think this could be any more humiliating.

"Bucky," he reaches around you sister.

You hesitate. You can't shake his hand properly as yours is around your sister so you just sorta grab his hand briefly and squeeze two fingers, retracting with another raze of embarrasment. You barely squeak out your name.

He repeats your name before he continues, "I'll get you two a room so she can sober up."

"What? No. That's... too much."

"It's late," he insists, "here," he pulls Roxie away from you as her head lolls and she snorts. He lifts her against his chest, carrying her easily. "I know a back way, just follow my lead, doll."

"Ummmmm," you drone and he waltzes back the way he came, hardly detered by the drunken body in his arms. You can only kick yourself and scramble after him. This night could not have ended any worse. Well, you guess it could if it went the way he suggested.

[dollymaniac]

🎰♥️💵𝕃𝕠𝕒𝕟 𝕕𝕚𝕘𝕘𝕖𝕣💵♥️🎰

Pairing: Vendetta! Leon Kennedy x Fem! reader (afab)

Summary: You lost your game of blackjack against Leon, but you can't afford to pay him, so, he comes up with another form of payment.

A/N: I don't know how accurate i made the blackjack game, haven't played in a while.

Tags: Nsfw (Minors do not interact), Gambling, oral (F recieving), unprotected P in V (Don't be like this two, be safe), debt paying sex, older Leon, creampie,

thank @explorevenus for being my beta reader, love u.

Text dividers

Ah casinos, nothing better for your drunken ass than the smell of whiskey and blood inside of the room, paired with the hypnotic sounds of the machines inside of the casino, and the clinking of glasses and discarded liquor bottles. Sometimes, the table beside you would suddenly become agitated and you would turn around to the men yelling and cursing, throwing punches over an accusation of cheating, or the fact there was no money to pay their debts.

As the dealer came back, you found this time, your game wasn’t against the dealer himself, rather, a man across the table from you. dark brown hair juxtaposed against his ice blue eyes, not lying around it, this man was hot. Sure enough you two were given each other's names through the Dealer, who just in case, ran over the Casino’s rule for the game, Blackjack.

“you two will start with two cards upside down, and set your wagers each” Each of you with different amounts of casino chips, some stacks larger than others depending on the color. “The word hit will give you one more card. Stand, will give you none. double down means you’ll up the wager and get a new card, and surrender means the game is halted and your opponent wins”

Quite simple. you had the opportunity to create four stacks of cards, and pray to the lord, you chose where to place them correctly so that one of the stacks would amount to your total.

“Whoever scores a perfect 21, wins. if none of your stacks amount to 21, the closest one will win”

His voice seemed tired of explaining this, who knows how many times. and the ‘chin’ of the sloth machines rumbled through the room. Both of you nodded, giving room for the dealer to shuffle the cards and throw them upside down towards each of you.

Leon, your opponent was smirking at you the whole time “Good luck Dollface, you’ll need it”, he was rather cocky, taking his cards and laying them down very carefully.

“Sure” you replied back, just taking your time to pick if you would stack them up or divide them, but you decided to keep them separate. Staring at him, wondering how he could be so confident, for all he knew he could get all high numbers and get fucked.

“Mr. Kennedy, your turn”

“hit” a card was slid to him.

Game on. for what felt like eternity you two ordered around the poor dealer, more and more cards slipped into your hands, Leon kept upping the wager over and over again. Like a broken record he repeated “Double up” and added more and more black tokens, he seemed so confident to just keep upping it a hundred at a time, and every time he did, your heart pounded as he reached numbers there was no way in hell you could pay.

You could give up sure, but that would mean paying the absurd amount he was setting up, it almost felt like he was forcing you to keep playing, looking at him, his smirk alone could tell you that he knew you couldn’t pay if you lost, he knew you would be fucked if you lost.

"Double up" Leon said again, almost laughing. Apparently you weren't being so good at hiding your face of absolute horror as he added another Black token to the pile. 

34 black tokens, piled in 3 lines of 10 and one of found. You were in too deep, 3,400 dollars at game here, and you simply couldn't process how the fuck was he so calm.

"Miss" the dealer called you back to reality "you gonna up the wager too?"

His eyebrow lifted, and honestly looked at you with an amount of concern.

"No, i… i stand"

"Very well"

You barely had added any tokens yourself, maybe amounting to 500 dollars, which was still a ridiculous amount. But your gut felt even heavier when you remember that added up, the entire bet was almost 4000.

"Double up" and this time… he added 5 tokens at once.

"YOU'RE ACTUALLY INSANE?! 4,400 DOLLARS?! Down the fucking drain? Are you stupid?" You slammed the table and caused the piles to come crashing down.

"You can't afford it?" His laugh was something that sent shivers down your spine, making you feel warmth inside of you "Because then we can do some arrangements when you loose"

He sounded so confident.

"Ma'am, please sit back down"

The dealer commanded, guiding you into your seat "Stand", you almost immediately barked back, you weren't going to contribute to his stupid little bet.

"Sir?"

"Stand"

Game was over, he seemed rather fascinated at your reaction. And as the dealer turned the cards over, you began to count each stack, 12, 17, 22 and 19.

You had even gone overboard, but as long as he didn't have a 20-21 you'd be ok, you should be, but to your absolute dismay you say how the cards being flipped were telling a completely different story.

17,20,21 and 18.

"Leon kennedy Wins the prize of 4,400 dollars"

The color from your face drained as the realization you had to pay him more than half of a month of your salary hit you, while he stood up and held his hand out.

"Good game doll, you came close"

You took it, shaking and trying to figure out where that money would come from.

"I told you, if you can't pay we maybe can do an arrangement hun"

Your eyes lit up almost instantly as he offered an alternative, quickly standing up and listening to him.

"I noticed how you looked at me" his hand reaching for your hair "and i also noticed how pretty you are" playing around and tangling his fingers in-between the locks.

"How about you keep those 4 thousand and I'll give you the night of your life in exchange?"

You took a good look at him, he was built like a greek god and honestly you saw no problem with the idea of paying him by letting him use you, it even sounded like a reward for you.

"Really?"

"Yes, I don't need more money" he snorted and pulled you closer, whispering into your ear "so?"

"Fuck—" a drowned whimper paired with the thrust of your hips, Leon had you sitting on his desk, legs on his shoulders as he passed his tongue through your clothed cunt.

Debt paying didn't sound so goddamned bad when the form of payment was letting yourself be eaten out by someone to the likes of Leon.

"Fucking dripping" he laughed "all just from my tongue? Fucking slut"

He proceeded to push your panties to the side, enjoying the look of your pussy covered in slick. Pushing his face into you while sucking greedily at your clit.

Your hips rutting into his face, making him groan into your pussy and sending waves of pleasure through your core as the vibration hits you.

You hands on his hair, he lowers his tongue, teasing your entry before pushing it inside of you, making you twitch and let out a moan of his name.

"There go" he laughed against your cunt, pulling away and making you whine in need.

He unbuckled his belt, slipping it off and discarding it to the floor of the office. Snapping open his pants and pulling himself out.

You bit your lip as he stroke the shaft, his tip weeping with precum.

Not even letting you react before he pulled your thighs and dragged you closer, making you gasp before he began to tease your slit with his head.

You made a whimper and gripped harder to the table, so much it'd leave marks on the wood. Leon laughed "how sensitive" lowering to your face before kissing you, prodding your mouth open and getting your tongues to dance and swirl around each other.

Soon enough he directed his cock to your entrance and began to sink inside you, making you moan against his lips.

Stretching you with his dick, he finally pulled away from your lips "taking me so well, right bunny?" You nodded desperately like an idiot, making him laugh.

He began thrusting slowly against you, enjoying the look on your face of pure pleasure with your eyes rolled back.

The little noises spilling from your mouth were like no other music "You enjoying paying i see" he mocked, before suddenly pulling halfway and then slamming right back into you.

The lewd scream you let out, somehow didn't get listened to through the rest of the white house. He dug his fingers in the plush of your thighs as he rammed into your wet cunt.

"Gonna fill you up, nice and good" he grunted "and you'll be a good slut and take it".

It was the fact that you pathetically kept bopping your head and agreeing to his every word that got Leon even more aroused, especially with how tight your walls are squeezing him.

"f-fuck, Leon I'm—" 

"I know pretty girl" you were painfully obvious to read, he reached out a hand and began making circles on top of your swollen clit, chasing your high more than his own, despite being close himself.

And it didn't take long for you to reach orgasm, legs twitching harshly from pleasure.

"That's it, that's a good girl" he muttered, some thrusts later and you could feel him spill inside of you, making you feel this weird pleasure.

He pulled out, and watched with a smirk as his cum spilled out of your pussy.

"Debt paid young lady" he laughed.

Maybe you should lose games more often.

[tossawary]

I've been rewatching "Batman: The Animated Series" and I'm finding it pretty entertaining, because I barely remember anything from it and so, though some of it has aged quite poorly, I keep being pleasantly surprised by many elements. I'd recommend it as a casual / background watch to anyone who is already a fan of Batman and his gallery of rogues. The show is very episodic, so it has a lot of one shot storylines, and it can be both quite silly and shockingly dark and serious.

The production design and overall vibe is really fun and funny, because Gotham City is apparently simultaneously experiencing the 1990s and the 1940s, and also every decade in between. Art deco is everywhere. I like the moody backgrounds painted on black paper. The tech is so chunky. This city is stuffed full of futurists, industrialists, socialites, gangsters, mad scientists, and supervillains. Nearly every classic Gotham rogue becomes a supervillain here because some greedy businessman screwed them over and they decided to take revenge into their own hands.

Because the episodes are focused on their own little stories, you meet a lot of the ordinary people of Gotham, and you get the vibe that there's a lot going on in this city. (It's just Bruce on his own most of the time in the beginning, with Alfred, because while Dick Grayson is Robin, he's already off at college and only occasionally comes back to visit.) The stakes can get high, but they can also be personal. One episode is about a thief who's made himself an invisibility suit, but the climax of the episode is him attempting to kidnap his daughter away from his ex-wife.

One of the most recent episodes I watched opened with the Joker being escorted into the rec room at Arkham and sitting down to watch the news. (He changes the channel away from the gardening show that Poison Ivy was watching and they nearly get into a fight about it.) The news promptly reveals that someone has just opened a brand new $300 million casino that they've themed after the Joker. His face is everywhere. The blackjack dealers are dressed like him. It's all in incredibly poor taste. The Joker is furious and immediately escapes to destroy this new luxury casino.

Of course, Bruce Wayne is there because it's a big social event. And upon the theme reveal, he immediately has Alfred drive over to bring him his Batman gear, because he's like, "Joker is definitely going to try to destroy this ugly casino." And I was like, "Sheesh, I know this is Gotham and it's obviously filled with a rich person social scene that is weird beyond my comprehension, but this is weird even for them! Building a Joker-themed casino is just asking for trouble!"

And then Batman investigates and finds out that the casino's construction bankrupted the owner, so the owner hastily themed it after the Joker so that the Joker would come and destroy it. The whole thing is someone attempting to commit insurance fraud via the Joker. Incredible.

[cheezeybread]

Hello! I've been reading your Jamil [L/N] Headcanons and I am in love with your stories. I would like to make a request just to make the Viper Family regret disrespecting Jamil & His Husband. 😈

Request: With some planning and the right moves, [Y/N] becomes rich - EXTREMELY RICH - and surprised his husband with the news. Somehow, Jamil's Parents hear about the news and go to the The [L/N] House Party for obvious reasons. I wanna see Jamil and his Husband shut them down: It's the [L/N] Wealth!

Sorry this oneshot is a bit all over the place, I had a coffee and now I feel SO sick and my hands won't stop shaking lolllll

mmmm not proof-read either T^T

°。°。°。°。°。°。

The good thing about not being born and raised in this world was that you could easily see the various loopholes and "cheats" in their economic system. And other things, such as their gambling games.

Since the people in Twisted Wonderland grew up with all of these things as a constant, they lacked the ability to see any flaws in their systems. However, you could see right through them. First was their currency. Thaumarks were relatively easy to reproduce if one could find a skilled enough mage- of course, you weren't going to stoop down to that level of counterfeit behavior. Second was their card games. While your own world's average card deck housed about 52 cards, Twisted Wonderland's average card deck held 14 to 25 cards (all depending on what sort of deck you were purchasing- region-wise, people added cards to the deck for aesthetic reasons). This lower amount of cards would normally mean that you'd have a better chance of winning, but their game's rules were...stranger than most.

The main game people gambled and bet over was called "Mage Hunt". In this game, a player (or however many were playing a game) would be dealt with seven cards- these cards all representing a "kingdom", with kings, queens, knights, and the like. It was the player's job to find the "mage" in the group (The mage being either a specifically-made card, or a pre-determined card from the dealer), but they could only receive four extra cards before guessing. And they couldn't look at anyone else's cards. No hints were given.

It was a confusing game, when you first started playing it with Jamil. But you quickly learned that the dealer would more often than not pick their mage from the deck out of instinct. You found that their "instinct" was to pick a mage from the card with the most symbolic imagery in it. Crows and ravens, an absurd amount of flowers, stuff like that.

It was for this reason that you began to play the game a lot more. Professionally, even. Every time Jamil left the house to go run errands or explore, you would sneak off to the local gambling area (sometimes it would be a tavern, sometimes an alleyway in town, under a bridge, anywhere was fair game for these people) and play "Mage Hunt" for money. And since you and Jamil were out traveling as part of a Honeymoon, it made it surprisingly easy to win as much money as you could, then skip town before the locals caught on to your proficiency with cards.

And when you and Jamil finally made it back home, after months of traveling, you surprised him with the news of your success! He was mostly amused that you found it necessary to sneak off and play card games while traveling, but he only shook his head and smiled as he suggested you bring out all of your earnings.

His eyes got wider when you brought bags upon bags into the living room and began counting it out.

It was well over thirty-three thousand thaumarks. All from playing card games. It wasn't a grand fortune, by any means, but it was enough to make Jamil pass out briefly. And once you went to some higher-level Casinos (the real deal!) to bet all that you had earned before, you and Jamil went back home with twenty times that amount!

Now you were a wealthy couple- wealthy enough to live heartily and uneasy for the rest of the foreseeable future, without worrying about jobs and other stupid things. Hell yeah.

How the Viper family caught wind of your newfound riches was anybody's guess. Although the blame could...most likely lay with Kalim, who was absolutely over the moon about your card game knowledge (having lost most of his monthly allowance over playing it with you). That poor boy couldn't possibly keep his mouth shut around his family, and since the Viper family worked for his family...well...

In the end, you and Jamil walked into your home after running out to grab groceries, and who else was sitting in the living room but one Mister and Missus Viper?

Jamil tensed up as soon as he saw his parents, but he tried not to let his discomfort show as he squeezed your hand lightly and let go, setting down the paper bags in one of his arms on the kitchen's counter before returning.

"Mother, father," He said casually "I believe my rules were clear, and you followed them...let's see, not at all. So therefore, you're trespassing."

You hurriedly went to stand by his side, wrapping an arm around your husband's waist.

His father wasted no time in getting to the point, ignoring his son's words "We've come to realize that you're hiding wealth from your family, Jamil. But, of course, we wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that perhaps you just haven't found the time to give us our due," he held his hands up in a submissive gesture, although his eyes were almost predatory in nature "So we came to save you the time and effort."

"What are you on about?" Jamil laughed callously "Your due?"

"Jamil, you know good and well that that kind of money can get our family out of servitude-" Jamil's mother started.

He shot her down immediately, twisted out of your loving grip and taking a loud step towards her, the floor vibrating with the force of the movement "Excuse me, I thought serving the Asim family was your pleasure? And now, after all of this fuss-and-nonsense you gave me after marrying YN and choosing to raise our future family freely, away from serving a rich family, you come crawling back to us the moment you hear about money that my husband has earned?"

"You're being a selfish-" the dad started

"NO, YOU'RE BEING SELFISH!" Jamil shouted, making you flinch "GET OUT OF OUR HOUSE- This is not the Viper wealth, it's the LN wealth!"

"I think it's best you leave," you tried to speak motioning for the parents to exit the house. Best to leave now, before Jamil got himself in trouble for murdering his mother and father...

"This is a family matter, fuck off!" Jamil's mother snapped at you, the first time you've been directly addressed by his parents since, well, the wedding, almost.

The room went quiet, devoid of talking. The only sound was Jamil's heavy breathing as he tried to keep himself from flinging himself onto his mother right then and there. He closed the distance between him and his parents, his footsteps eerily silent

"Snake charmer," He whispered, his eyes flashing a brief glint of red. Having not seen Jamil use his signature spell since college, you took a step towards him, putting a hand on his shoulder to remind him of your presence. While he didn't say anything to you nor take his focus off his parents, you could feel his shoulders loosen up.

"Listen to me now," Jamil hissed "You are going to leave our house immediately and forget where it is. You will never interfere with mine nor my husband's lives ever again- and you will not ever, ever speak to me nor him, over the phone or otherwise."

That was the last time you saw the Viper parents. They stood up immediately, as per their son's instructions, and with a glazed look in their eyes, trudged to the door and opened it, disappearing into the outside world.

[vegasgamingacademy]

What Makes Casino Dealing a Great Career? - Vegas Gaming Academy

Because people are always looking for the thrill of a good time, the outlook for casino dealers is fantastic, with anticipated job growth of 2-10 percent in the coming years. With minimal education, you can thrive in an entertaining environment.

[short-honey-badger]

Phantom Pain 10

Hey loves. I'm back with part 10! I hope you enjoy a bit of gambling and possessive Shanks. ❤️

Masterlist

The bar is full of patrons, sweet smelling smoke curls in the air, and you have to fight the sneer that wants to play on your lips. This definitely isn't your scene, but Shanks had wanted to play cards and had given you big puppy dog eyes when he'd asked if you would come with him. You could feel how excited he was to play his little card game, but you couldn't help but feel a bit of trepidation. This place was full of men and women who looked like they would rather eat you than greet you.

You are stuck between Shanks and Benn, the older man acting as a buffer and keeping you away from the other gamblers inside the shoddy casino bar. You are grateful for it.

“I won't let anything happen to you, baby. Don't ya trust me?” Shanks crooned. Your side of the bond is lashing like an angry eel, full of anxiety that Shanks tries to soothe with his own confidence. You take the feeling and wrap yourself in it, shoulders slumping and a bit more relaxed now.

“Course I trust you. I just don't trust anyone else here. Aside from you. Benn.”

The older man huffs, and mutters dryly, “Thanks.”

Shanks snickers and presses a kiss to the top of your head. The three of you look for an empty table and find one close to the back. There are only two seats left, so Benn takes one, and Shanks plops in the other, looking up at you with a grin and patting his lap.

“You don't mind if I keep my good luck charm, do you?” Shanks says, his smile open and friendly, but tone firm and the dealer shrugs, dealing the redhead and Benn in. You ignore the looks you get for that remark, though the man that sits across from you doesn't take his greedy eyes off of you, instead blatantly ogling your bust and any other bit of skin that you have showing.

You pick up the cards, looking down at them and angle your hands to where Shanks could see them. You had no idea what you were doing, having never played this before.

Shanks can feel your rising confusion and tug you close to his chest, arm securely wrapped around your waist. He glares at the miscreant across the table, and you shiver when you feel his lips graze your ear.

“This is BlackJack. We're trying to beat the dealer, and if our cards go over 21, then we bust. The closest to 21 wins the round, and we play until the entire deck is run through.”

You nod. It seemed simple enough. You look at your two cards, finding 8 of hearts and 6 of diamonds staring up at you, and set them back on the table, replicating the way Benn has laid his hand out.

The dealer flips one of his cards, keeping the other laid face down, and you squint to see the 10 of Spades. You jump when Shanks speaks up again.

“Now we think. Do we stay or do hit for another card? An ace can be 1 or 11, but kings, queens, and jacks are labeled at 10. The other cards we take at face value.”

You lick your lips, watching the other people at the table. Benn hits and is dealt another card. He keeps it face down beside his other cards. You look at your cards again. 14. Anything higher than a 7, and it'd be a bust.

Shanks feels you come to your conclusion and speaks up for his soul mate when it's their turn.

“Hit.”

The dealer slides them a card, keeping it face down. Once the rest of the table has made their decision, the dealer flips his face down card, revealing an 8 of diamonds. You follow everyone else's lead and flip your card, frowning when it's an ace of clubs. They'd lost.

“Damn. Deal us back in,” Shanks demands, and soon, the five men and you have been given two face-up cards. You shift in your seat, content to let your soulmate be the one to choose this round.

The hours pass, and the bar begins to become a bit more lively with the falling sun and the flowing drinks. You are pleasantly buzzed, slumped back into Shanks, brow pressed into collarbone. The game has slowly lost your interest after the two of you had continued to lose. A wiry smirk twists your lips. Some lucky charm you were.

The sudden silence of your table and the way Shanks’ end of the bond flashes with a sudden rage, has you blinking the blurriness from your vision and sitting up. You glance at your soulmate and shiver at seeing such a nasty grin on his handsome face. He is staring at the man who couldn't keep his eyes off you, and you have a very bad feeling that the next couple seconds were pivotal for his survival.

“Say that again, I don't think my seastar heard you,” Shanks demands, and his grip on you becomes borderline painful, the hand he has on your thigh tight enough to leave marks behind.

The man sneers at the Emperor, drunk and feeling too confident on his winning streak and bleeding the redhead’s pockets dry. He wanted to win something else. You.

“I said you ain't got anything left in the pot, so maybe you should bet your lucky charm.”

You jerk back, taken aback at the way the man leers at you, and turn your nose up at the bastard when he boldly licks his lips and sends you a wink. You aren't expecting Shanks to grab your chin and angle your face to his, his expression mischievous but tinted with that same anger you can still feel shocking your side of the connection.

“What do you think, baby? You want in?”

You lick your lips. A year ago, you would never have agreed to anything like this, but Shanks and his playfulness must have rubbed off on you.

You turn and glare at the man across the table, your smirk matching your soulmate's, “We're all in.”

Benn snickers and rolls his eyes, already knowing that win or lose, Shanks wouldn't be leaving the island without taking this simpleton's life for his slight against you.

The game begins, and the tension in the air rackets up as the cards are dealt out to each patron. You sit up straight and focus back on the cards that lay in front of you, a king of spades and ten of diamonds. 20. A grin curls your lips, and your eyes flick up to meet the man who looks less than enthused about his hand. He hits, and the dealer slides him his last card.

“Fuck.”

From here, you can see that his cards talley up to 23, and panic floods his eyes when he looks up and catches you and Shanks staring him down. He scrambles from his seat, eager to flee before the redhead could even stand. However, he isn't accounting for the first mate to be right there and slams into Benn.

“You've no idea who we are, do you?” Shanks says from where he still lounges in the chair. You relax and sit back against his chest, wanting to see how this plays out.

The man shakes his head, terrified. There is a thick presence in the air, making it hard for him to breathe, let alone think.

“Well. Let me introduce myself. I'm Shanks, and that's Benn Beckmann, my first mate,” he pulls you close and leans around to kiss your cheek, “And this is my soulmate.”

You can feel how much Shanks is enjoying this, and the wicked satisfaction that flows between the two of you makes you grin.

“You tried to take her away from me, and I can't have some nobody think that they can do that.”

You ignore the way that the man begins to beg, pleading and promising to never be seen again. But none of that matters to Shanks. This vermin had disrespected you, and the Emperor wouldn't stand for it. His hand strokes your thigh, smoothing indecency up your leg to grip your inner thigh, thumb pressed against your clothed heat. He kisses the back of your head, voice idle and playful when he speaks up.

“What should we do with him, Seastar?”

You only have to think for half a second, “Feed him to the Seakings.”

Shanks throws his head back and laughs, then tucks his arm under your ass and stands with you. You toss your arms around his neck and hold on for dear life as Shanks stalks through the bar, the other patrons making way for him all the way to the door. Everyone else knew better to make such a scene and almost felt bad for the sleaze ball that Benn shoved forward, his hand wrapped in the guy's shirt to prevent him from running away.

“You heard the lady. Let's go.”

The rest of the crew meets Shanks and his soulmate back in the Red Force. He has you back in his lap, sitting cross-legged on his deck as the two of you watch Lucky Roux tie the man's hands together. They’ve already sailed out of the cove and sit in deep, seaking infested waters. The man is shaking like a leaf, still spilling pleads and begging for mercy.

They go unheard, and you stand to better watch the man stumble to the edge of the ship to the gangplank. You feel Shanks follow after you, joining you in leaning against the railing.

“Give the order, Baby,” He whispers behind you and you shiver at the tone he uses. He sounds like he is enjoying this, and you know he is.

You look at the bastard who had tried to win you in a game of cards, and gesture at the sea.

“Walk the plank.”

@writingmysanity @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @anastasiyax @jaguarthecat @atricksterwithwings @black-swan-blog27

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Can you do cyanide with Cooper Howard

Cyanide — an inevitable realization, stubbornness, ill concealed jealousy, a decision finally being made.

————

Cooper didn’t much like how some of the patrons at the Gomorrah were looking at you.

Beyond the fact that you had a good reputation at the Strip, you were trying to blend in at the casino by wearing a dress that was a little too revealing for his liking. It didn’t really leave much to his — or anyone’s — imagination.

Since you’d become companions, he’d had to constantly remind himself that you were business partners and nothing else. He had no right — or reason — to be feeling a seething jealousy bubbling up inside him.

If he had simply become more protective of you, that would be another story entirely, but it went way beyond that… and it was starting to sink in.

He initially took a liking to you for being driven and effective, and that wasn’t to mention how easy on the eyes you were. Working with you didn’t feel like a chore either, especially since you could hold your own, and as he had gotten to know you more… Oh, it’d been a long time since he’d truly liked someone.

But he had tried not to think of the extent of it, or what it might mean for him. And he would continue to try to keep it out of his mind, just as long as no one tried anything funny with you.

You noticed him glaring at a couple of patrons, not understanding why he was being hostile unprovoked. You elbowed him on the side and gave him a questioning look, but he simply shook his head, his jaw clenching.

Trying not to roll your eyes, you looked back at the blackjack dealer’s cards and realized you would not win the round. With a sigh of resignation, you tossed your cards on the table.

“Alright, maybe it’s time we check the back. Not having any luck here,” you said, pushing away from the table.

When Cooper didn’t immediately follow you, you stopped and looked back. He was still scanning your surroundings, as if daring anyone to approach, but he stood up from the high stool and slowly followed along.

“What is up with you?” You hissed between clenched teeth, looping your arm through his to try to seem casual. “We need to keep a low profile and stay in this place’s good graces until we’re done with the job. We can’t afford to get shunned from here.”

“Low profile, huh?” He pulled back and glanced down at your dress pointedly. “Gee, sweetheart, I’d have thought that you wanted the opposite, flauntin’ your tits and all.”

You scoffed. “Well, it’s a distraction. If they focus on them then maybe they won’t focus on what we’re actually trying to do.”

“Damn right it’s a distraction…” he muttered.

As you reached the back of the establishment, you saw the contact you were supposed to talk to sitting at the back of the room. You slowed your steps, trying to finish the discussion first.

“Listen, can you handle it or not? Cause I can finish this by myself if I need to,” you said.

He knew very well that you could, and that you might not even need him at all, but still you had let him keep you company.

He had thought to return to flying solo a few times, if only so he didn’t have to figure out the complicated tangle of emotions he’d started feeling.

But he found that despite it, he didn’t want to give you up so easily. He would just have to figure it all out at some point.

“Oh, I can handle it alright,” he said with a sly grin, holding eye contact with you for a charged moment. “Lead the way, darlin’. But here’s to hopin’ this guy doesn’t have wandering eyes… Else we might be in real trouble real quick.”

———-

[summer-nights19]

Omertá part 3

Romeo Scorpius Lucci x fem reader Part 2

As you were eating breakfast in the cafeteria the morning after your deal with Romeo, your phone buzzed from a message notification. Trying not to sigh, you opened it. Who could be bothering you this early in the morning

Unknown number: This is Romeo. Come to my office immediately after finishing breakfast so we can discuss your work for the next week.

You: Ok. How did you get my number ?

Romeo: I'll explain later. Stop wasting time and hurry up.

You put your phone back in your pocket, growing increasingly exasperated. The day had barely started and you already had a feeling it wasn't going to be an easy one. Unfortunately, it couldn't be helped, so after finishing up your coffee, you headed back to Sinostra and straight for Romeo's office.

Once you reached the door, the usual guy standing on guard waved you in dismissively. You assumed Romeo had informed him you'd be coming ahead of time.

"You're late, Y/N. In the future, if I call you to my office, I expect you to be there within five minutes of me sending the message,"

You tried to keep the irritation out of your voice. After all, this was still the man who could technically decide to kill you at any point.

"Mr Lucci, this campus is enormous. Unless I somehow develop the ability to teleport, how am I meant to go from one place to the next in five minutes,"

Romeo glared at you. Looks like you weren't the only one who was irritable in the mornings.

"That's not my problem. Also, it's Fico. I despise being addressed as Mr Lucci- it was my father's title, and I share nothing in common with that WTWUT,"

"WT what ?" What was it with this man and abbreviations ?

"Wall to wall useless trash, obviously," Romeo rolled his eyes at you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and you sent a sharp glare in his direction.

"From my experience, Mr Lucci, all men of your ilk are the same. If you want to be called by a different title, you'll have to prove that you're different,"

Gritting his teeth, Romeo scowled. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him clenching his fist around his expensive fountain pen.

"You'd do well to remember that I can still do whatever I want with your life, Y/N. Keep talking back and you'll see what happens,"

Glowering at him, you took a seat at his desk and decided to leave it at that.

"Why did you call me here ?" You tried to keep your tone as calm as possible, which was no easy task. Apparently, the Sinostra vice captain could get under your skin just as much as you could his.

"I'm here to discuss your work for today. If our agreement is to amount to anything, you should try to become familiar with how the Casino works. We still have an hour before we open officially, so read this,"

Romeo reached under his desk and took out a thick, leather bound notebook, which he thrusted in your direction. As you skimmed through it, you frowned.

"What is this ?"

"The full record of business activities, investments, costs and profits for the last six months. I'd recommend you read it before you start working,"

"Before ?? You mean I'll be doing something other than studying this tome all day ?"

Romeo sighed, and he glared at you as if you'd just asked the world’s stupidest question.

"Obviously ! You will experience all the positions in our casino. In the morning, you'll do all the front of the house work - that includes card dealers, cleaning, and waitressing. Then, in the afternoon, you'll experience some of the less ... public positions with a few of my underlings. You'll just be picking up cargo and dropping something off to a customer, so even you could manage that,"

You looked at him, trying to work out if he was joking or not, but when you met his gaze, his face was completely deadpan.

"You're trying to say that I need to do all that work today ? That would take like eight employees !"

Romeo slammed his hand down on his desk, causing piles of documents to collapse and flutter to the ground.

"Be silent ! If you want to live, you'll follow my orders,"

Taking a deep breath in, you looked down at the notebook and started to study it. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. You saw Romeo smirk to himself out of the corner of your eye as you started skimming the notebook, but you decided a reaction wasn't worth the effort.

After about half an hour of silent study of the records, you cleared your throat.

"Mr Lucci, I think I've located a potential issue. A lot of your slot machines have people winning too frequently, so you're not really making much of anything from them. If I had to make a rough estimate, I'd say halving the odds would maximise your profits. Also, with the roulette table-" you completely lost your train of thought as you noticed how Romeo was looking at you. His face was almost the same unreadable mask he'd worn last night, but now, he looked kind of interested, maybe even a little impressed. You could see a smirk forming on the corners of his lips.

"Keep going, BB. For once you're saying something of value,"

Deciding to ignore the jab, you resumed your explanation of how he could tweak the casino games to maximise his profits,trying to give him rough estimates where possible. By the end, he was fully smirking, and his face almost seemed to have lost some of that coldness.

"I knew you could be useful if you tried hard enough. Good girl,"

You felt your face heating up as he praised you, so you decided to avert your gaze. Maybe you were coming down with a fever after the stress of the last few days.

"Also, Y/N, you should take this. I can't stand seeing your hands in such horrible shape," This time, Romeo took out a jar from one of his desk drawers and placed it next to you.

You looked down. It was luxury hand cream, imported directly from Italy. Trying not to laugh, you thanked Romeo and put it on your bag. He did seem like the kind of person who would want to get everything from back home, no matter how expensive and impractical.

"Maybe I do have a last bit of advice, Mr Lucci. You should stop spending so much of your earnings on fancy trinkets and reinvest some in your casino," this time, you were the one smirking, your eyes glinting with silent laughter as you finally looked up at Romeo.

"I also have advice, BB. Keep such useless and ridiculous insights to yourself. Now leave, they're expecting you at the roulette table in five minutes,"

Rolling your eyes, you slung your bag over your shoulders and walked out of the office, mentally preparing yourself for the start of what was sure to be a very long day.

Masterlist

[gasstationclown]

some loa sketches! very minimal unfortunately because im bouncing between multiple campaigns, but i hope to do more soon!!

some young (~10) ideas of the ouaw party (and im realizing now that i.... forgot torbek 😭😭😭😭 next time) because its becoming more relevant!

and some older but younger (20s-30s?) kremy and gideon

(apologies for any inaccuracies but also thought itd be interesting if kremys top hat was one of the first real "fancy" clothes he got. and if he paired that with a casino dealer getup)

and then some queenie for practice

[snippychicke]

Me? Becoming obsessed with Hazbin Hotel? Nahhhh...

Okay, yes. I am.

So here! Have some wholesome threesome between Husker, Angel, and (gender neutral) Reader! Maybe someday I'll make more out of it, but for now, mostly fluff and a little spice.

You had been desperate to sell your soul. Needing to escape the asshole that was the reason you were in hell in the first place. (Ok, yes you had killed him in a rather… savage manner, along with his goons, but he had started it.)

Overlord Husk had tempted you into a little wager. A little game of cards which totally hadn't been rigged in his favor. But you had been willing to do anything regardless, at least he had given you an (un)fair shot.

Yet despite his Overlord status, Husk wasn't that bad of a man (demon? Cat? Owl?) to be under--in more ways than one. To the rest of hell there wasn't much between you, other than you worked at his casino with at least a dozen other souls that were bound to him. A little dancing, a little waitressing, a little work at the tables as a dealer. You were a jack of all trades, but you were safe. Safer than you had been when you were alive.

Happier too.

Because when the ‘day’ ended, you often found yourself wrapped in furry arms, claws tracing up and down your arms as the Overlord of Gambling murmured sweet nothings in your ear with that deep voice. Then laying a plush bed decked in black and crimson bedding with the Overlord above you, wings spread wide as he takes what you offered freely.

And as time passed, you only grew closer behind closed doors. They say demons didn't feel love, but you weren't sure what else it could be. Lust didn't have you slow dancing in the kitchenette of the Casino's royal suite, or confessing the regrets you harbored from life in lieu of pillow talk and wiping away tears with soft kisses.

And then Alastor entered the stage. You had been working that fateful day as the others felt their bindings change. Sure, Husk had lost a hand or two before, and therefore a few souls, but it was never very many and he generally won them back.

But that day it had been everyone. You had watched as everyone paused and stared at the heavy chains of a new Overlord in both confusion and horror. You held onto the ribbon tied around your wrists, as if you could will it to stay the same as you were the last to still be owned by Husk.

Then the delicate ribbons became thick heavy chains that made you cry out in shock and disbelief. Husk had risked your soul… and lost.

It was even worse when Alastor appeared on the casino floor, Husk beside him looking absolutely defeated. Alastor's grand speech fell on deaf ears, because all you could do was stare at your lover. Part of you was hurt that he would ever gamble you, while part of you reasoned he must have been absolutely desperate, considering the collar and chains that now linked him to the Radio Demon.

You could see his plea for forgiveness in his eyes, and you realized you had to love him to forgive him.

Because you did.

---

Husk wasn't the same afterwards. Depressed and full of self-loathing with an even worse habit of trying to find the nonexistent sunshine at the bottom of the bottle. Nothing you could do or say seemed to help, though you didn't give up.

Alastor hadn't cared if you stuck around or not, yet you did anyway. The Hazbin Hotel was far too big for little Nifty to clean by herself-- especially considering your new coworker preferred to chase down bugs and dust bunnies to kill.

You didn't find things that bad, all things considered. Sure you had loved the glamor and glitz of the casino, but the Hazbin Hotel had its own charm. Maybe it was because you had never been at the top but lived your life (and part of the afterlife) at rock bottom, while Husk had been among the greatest and most powerful before his metaphorical wings had been clipped.

Actually, you actually were happier working at the hotel than the casino, though it was greatly overshadowed by the rift that had formed between you and Husk. Even though you forgave him, he hadn't been able to forgive himself.

And then Angel swanned in. You were so used to bantering with patrons of the casino you didn't think twice about doing the same with the flirtatious twink. You actually found it fun to flirt back and forth over a drink or two, especially when you heard Husk huff in an almost laugh, light returning to those dark gold eyes of his.

You had missed his sly smile so much. If you flirting with some other demon was all it took, you would happily do so.

And slowly you started to see parts of the demon you loved come back.

Especially when Angel would try to convince you to do something more than flirt and you turned him down each time. ‘I prefer my men a bit huskier,’ you'd tease as you pressed your finger to Angel's lips and pushed him away gently. ‘Plus I'm not good at the whole casual sex thing.’

That would always gain a chuckle from Husk, though Angel never quite got what was so funny.

One night Husk cornered you in the hall, to your surprise. It had been such a long time since you had felt his paw-like hands trail along your body, his deep voice reverberating against the skin of your neck as he admitted how much he liked to watch you banter with the sex-worker.

If you had any positive feelings for the guy upstairs, you would have called Angel a god-send. As time passed, you knew your own feelings were getting into the mix no matter how hard you tried not to be enamored by the star. It wasn't the over-the-top showy persona, but those moments you were able to catch the man behind the mask. The soft, witty demon you enjoyed bantering with.

You knew you weren't the only one, judging by the fond looks you saw Husk shoot towards Angel when the pink demon would snort a laugh, his walls temporarily down.

‘We both like him, don't we?’ You posed late one night, only to have Husk try to bury his face in your chest with a groan. You chuckled as you rubbed his ear, a deep purr quickly emitting from his chest and against your loins as he continued to lounge between your legs.

‘Him, and not that fake-ass that he pretends to be,’ Husk finally admitted before peeking up at you. ‘...You don't mind?’

‘Well, I mean we are demons so being hypocritical would be par for the course… but you also know me too.” You were emotional, bonding quickly with anyone showing you a hint of kindness.

A smile grew, showing his sharp teeth. ‘You know, I have imagined you and him going at it a few times, and damn if that wasn't the hottest thing ever.’

Convincing Angel was far more challenging. Less to the idea of polyamory, but the simple idea that both of you liked him. Not Angel Dust, but the real Angel (because he did not like being called Anthony). That took time, arguments, and a few barbed words as Husk was able to get through to him.

You weren't good with arguments, but convinced him with honest kisses and more sincere flirting. Soft touches that reassures him more than anything.

And when finally you all three were piled into bed in a tangle of too-many limbs and the odd wing, the room full of both laughter and other sounds of bliss, you were pretty sure you'd give heaven the middle finger if they tried to take either of them from you.

(And when Heaven really did, they found out why you were in hell in the first place. Righteous fury and desperation to protect those you loved went hand in hand and made you a force to reckon with.)