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mischievousmoony · 3 months ago

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𝚍𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚣𝚎𝚛𝚘

⟢ frat boy!james potter x fem!reader ⟢ a guy makes unwanted advances on you at a frat party, and the president comes to your aid ⊹ 3.0k ⟢ warnings/tags: alcohol, unwanted advances + touching and sexist comments from another character, james gets aggressive confronting said character, american!james hehehe (not that it's explicitly stated)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

By your third visit to the crowded, beer-scented kitchen, your features have set into a deep scowl. You groan, slumping against the wall—only to immediately push yourself off, unwilling to let the exposed skin of your back come into contact with any part of the frat house you're in. Was the wall sticky, or have you started sweating from the heat of all the drunk bodies around you? Either option makes you cringe.

Tonight was supposed to be fun. Frat parties weren’t exactly your ideal night out, but your best friend had dragged you to this one with the promise of a fun time. But your night has quickly turned into a wild goose chase after she disappeared with some guy.

"Are you okay?" a voice calls from your left, barely audible over the music that's starting to make your head pound. You realize that you had started pinching the bridge of your nose. When you lower your hand and turn your head, you find a pair of kind eyes staring down at you.

He introduces himself as Todd after you explain that you've been looking for your friend for half an hour to no avail. With a sympathetic smile, he offers to help, which you gratefully accept. Anything to find your friend and put this dreadful night to an end.

"Are you, like, one of the brothers?" you ask, noticing the letters on Todd's cap as you follow him through the house, but it's a little too dark to make them out. Not to mention, you don't really remember which fraternity your friend even brought you to tonight.

"Nah," Todd shouts over his shoulder. "Not here." He doesn't provide any more information than that as he changes the subject, suggesting the two of you search the backyard.

"I thought the yard was off limits,” you shout as you speed walk to catch up with him. He’s walking so fast that you barely have time to consider why he would think your friend would be outside.

Stepping into the cold, he explains, "Apparently their neighbors complained about the noise last weekend, so they're trying to keep the party inside. But a couple of quiet people shouldn't be an issue. It's nice to be away from all the noise, eh?"

You shudder when the night air hits you, hugging your arms around yourself tightly and attempting to smooth away the goosebumps already prickling on your skin.

"Maybe if it wasn't freezing."

You look around at the back yard, finding it completely empty except for a thin layer of fallen leaves and scattered beer bottles hidden in the uncut grass. Todd is leading you straight across the lawn, farther away from the house and any source of light. You’re starting to get a weird feeling about this—and Todd—so you slow to a stop while he continues to head deeper into the darkness.

"Hey, I don't think my friend is gonna be out here. I'm gonna keep looking inside–"

"What's the rush?" Todd's demeanor changes when he notices you’re falling behind. He quickly closes the distance between the two of you again in two strides.

You release a dry laugh, realizing that you've been too trusting, and your tone turns serious. "I should really find my friend."

"You said she was with a guy, right? C'mon just let her have her fun." Todd drops his voice an octave, trying to sound seductive, but it comes across embarrassingly forced. "Maybe we can have some fun too."

When he reaches to touch the side of your face, your mood starts to change from a little let down and slightly annoyed to seriously pissed off.

"Don't," you say coldly, jerking your head away from his touch.

"Aw, c'mon," he continues to try to coax you, still somehow thinking he has a chance at convincing you. When his fingers graze your sides, you shout at him to keep his hands off, but instead, he slides them to your waist, holding you firmly.

"Let go!" you demand, planting you hands firmly on his shoulders and pushing. He chuckles at your feeble attempts, making you angrier, so you switch tactics. You wrap your hands around his wrists and pry his hands off, applying a pressure to the inside of his wrists that makes him release you with a hiss.

There's an angry voice in the distance shouting "Hey!" presumably at the two of you. You hear the steady sound of footsteps growing louder—one of the brothers probably coming to yell at you for sneaking into their backyard. You're a little too busy to care as you stomp away from Todd.

Todd doesn’t seem to notice the newcomer either. Too absorbed in the sting of your rejection, he starts getting angry too.

"Don't be such a prude," he snaps. He catches your wrist and pulls you back to him with a swift tug, spinning you around to face him. You draw your free arm back, using the extra momentum from the spin to your advantage as you punch him squarely in the jaw.

The punch throws him off balance, sending him stumbling back. His foot catches on an empty beer bottle, twisting his ankle as he loses his footing and crashes onto the grass with a heavy thud.

You stand above him, a little stunned at your actions. Todd is whining pathetically about the pain from the punch to his face, and the pain from the fall to his ass.

Someone jogs up beside you, and you can feel their gaze darting back and forth between you and Todd.

"Nice punch," he says, a little out of breath.

"Thanks," you reply flatly, only now starting to process that you—with the help of a beer bottle—sent this man tumbling to the ground.

"Alright," the mystery man says like he's about to get to work. He steps into your line of sight, looming over Todd for a moment.

He has a mop of dark curls spilling out from under a red baseball cap sitting backwards on his head. The cap matches his letterman-style jacket, which clings to his broad frame, drawing attention to his muscular body. Under different circumstances, this is a view you’d appreciate.

He bends down and grabs Todd by the collar of his shirt, roughly pulling him to his feet. Even with both of them standing, he still towers over him.

"Hey, man. What's up?" he asks Todd, his casual words contrasting with his abrasive tone.

"That slut just punched me!" Todd shrieks.

You roll your eyes. How pathetic.

He tightens his grip on Todd's shirt collar, using it to shake him roughly. "Watch your fucking mouth or I'll be the next," he threatens, and Todd goes quiet.

Your eyes widen at his sudden sharpness. Almost involuntary, you shift your position, angling yourself to get a clear look at the boy’s face. Black rimmed glasses sit lazily on the bridge of his nose, under his furrowed brow as he glares daggers at Todd. His eyes are big and brown, almost seeming out of place against the hard scowl carved into his features.

"Here's what's gonna happen," he continues. "First, you’re blacklisted. You’re never stepping foot in my house again. And what's this?"

He plucks Todd's hat off his head, inspecting the letters with a scoff before tossing it to the ground. "Of course. I'm sure nationals will be happy to hear about how you've conducted yourself tonight."

Todd's eye twitches at the threat. "Let's not pretend I was doing anything she didn’t want. Look at the way she’s dressed—flaunting herself, just begging for attention."

"What did you just say?" he seethes.

"James, c'mon," Todd says, revealing the name of the taller boy. He speaks with a nonchalance that makes James' nostrils flare, angered by his dismissiveness of the situation.

You begin to wonder how they know each other when James sets him straight.

"Who the hell do you think you're talking to? My friends call me James, you don't get to call me shit. The fuck do you think this is, man? I catch you in my backyard putting your hands on a girl who clearly doesn't want anything to do with you and you think you can talk to me like we're friends? I don't even know who the hell you are."

Your eyes must be bulging out of your head by now. It feels like you’ve been dropped into a scene from a movie—an exposé on the dark side of greek life, or maybe the mafia. Not knowing much about either, it’s hard to say, but the backward hats and pounding music from the house quickly remind you of where you are.

James lowers his voice, his tone dipping into something almost menacing. "But I’ll find out from your brothers, and when I do, you’re finished here. Done. Now come on."

Todd flinches as one of James' hands clasps over the back of his neck with a sharp smack. There were some other guys you hadn't noticed before back near the house, to whom James hands Todd over.

Once James notices that you're still standing in the middle of the yard, he jogs back over. On his way, he takes off his hat, running his fingers through his hair to loosen his curls.

"Hey," he says in a soft voice, vastly different from the one he used on Todd. "Are you okay?"

The change in his demeanor catches you off guard. You exhale while you collect your thoughts, a steamy white cloud filling the space as your warm breath meets cool air.

"That was intense," you say. You don’t mean to dodge his question, but he did just switch from mafia boss levels of threatening to sunshine and rainbows.

James breathes out a laugh. "Sorry about that. Gotta be a hardass with some of these dicks, especially ones like that. Part of the job."

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued, wondering what job he's talking about.

James reads your expression, and stands up a little straighter as he introduces himself. "President James, at your service." With an exaggerated wink, he tugs at the edge of his jacket, pulling it taut to show off the letters sewn over his chest.

You nod in understanding. "Well, thank you for stepping in, Mr. President," you say, a slight tease coloring your tone.

A smile like sunshine overtakes his lips. "No need to thank me, really. Anyway, you handled it pretty well before I got here. That was some punch—is your hand alright?"

You had forgotten about that. Splaying your fingers out in front of you, you inspect your knuckles. "Mhm. Fine. I don't think I can feel my limbs anyway." You wrap your arms back around yourself, the cold become almost unbearable in your tank top.

"Shit, yeah, it's cold out here, isn't it?" James holds his hat between his teeth, freeing his hands as he strips off his jacket. Your eyes linger on his toned arms for a moment too long, and suddenly his hat has made its way back onto his head and he's holding his jacket out for you.

"May I?" he asks.

As much as you want to say no, you truly are freezing, so you let yourself be draped in his warmth and the scent of his cologne. The fabric has an unexpected weight to it, almost offering a comfort similar to an embrace.

James rubs his hands up and down over newly blanketed arms to encourage some warmth into them. James studies your face with softened eyes, his tone taking on a more serious note.

"Hey, listen... I'm really sorry that happened to you. Everything he said, and did–"

"It's alright," you interrupt.

"It's not. That shouldn't be happening. Not at my house—not anywhere. I'm really sorry you had to deal with that creep. And if you wanted to take it to the school, I'd be more than willing to–"

"No, no. That's more trouble than he's worth."

James nods, respecting your decision. "For what it's worth, I'm gonna make sure he won't be allowed in any of the parties around here anymore. I doubt I can get him completely blackballed, but I'll do what I can."

You offer James a small smile in response. You're glad to hear that, really, but now that Todd's gone and that's all over, your main concern is finding your friend and getting the hell out of here.

"Why don't you let me give you a ride home?" he offers, almost like he can read your mind. His kind, brown eyes almost make you want to say yes. But after the night you've had, you owe it to yourself to be a little less trusting.

"I don't know." You bite the inside of your cheek while you decide if you should disclose your current dilemma. James does seem eager to help. Deciding to tell him, you say, "I was looking for my friend."

James is quick to offer his assistance. "Who's your friend? Maybe I can help."

You tell him your friends name and recount what she was doing when you saw her last. "She ran off with this guy. Long black hair, leather jacket, I think I heard his name but it was something... unique."

James sucks in a breath through his teeth. "Sounds like Sirius."

"Sirius, yes! That was his name." You're momentarily excited, thinking that James could actually help, but the look on his face squashes the feeling promptly.

"Yeah, uh," James scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, "Sirius left with a girl like an hour ago. About yay high," he holds his hand out to your friend's height. "Tan. Brown hair."

You sigh. Some best friend you have. Here you are, searching for her endlessly, and she's ditched you at the party she brought you to.

"She was your ride, I’m guessing?" The corner of James' lip quirks up in a sorry half-smile as you nod. "It really is no trouble for me to drive you home."

You tap your foot on the ground anxiously. You're really wanting to just accept his offer. He seems nice enough, but there's still a little voice in the back of your mind telling you to be careful.

"I just... I don't really know you."

"Understandable," James starts. "But... you kinda do. I'm pretty sure we have chem together."

"I don't think so." You think you’d remember a muscly, likely rambunctious, frat boy in your boring chem class.

"Okay, I was playing it cool,” James’ teeth graze his lower lip in a bashful manner. “I know we have Chem together—with Professor Brown? Tuesdays and Thursdays. You sit in the front row. Y/N, right?" James looks a little sheepish as he recalls your name.

You nod slowly, really looking at James for the first time, trying to place him. Then it hits you—you do remember him. He sits a few seats down from you in chem, always rigorously taking notes and asking questions you wouldn’t have thought of (but are glad to have the answers to). Seeing him like this, though, is such a contrast to the smart guy from class that you didn’t even recognize him at first.

You feel a heat creep up the back of your neck. You’ve only ever spared him a few glances, but you’ve always thought the smart guy from chem was pretty cute.

"Oh. Oh, right. I–I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. You're James Potter." You try the name on your lips, realizing the name didn't click because you had only ever heard your professor call him by his last name.

"That's me," he grins. "And don't worry about it."

You give him a nod, a bit awkwardly. He seems like a good guy, but you’re still not sure if you want to get in his car. "Well, James, I should probably just call an Uber or something anyway. I don't know if you've been drinking or anything so..."

"Oh!" James holds up a finger, stuffing his other hand into his pocket and pulling out a black rectangle. You mistake it for one of those big, clunky box vapes and almost want to roll your eyes. But then, James surprises you by blowing into it instead of breathing in.

The device beeps, and he shows you the little digital screen, previously hidden behind his hand, that reads "0.00" over a glowing green background.

"Haven't had a drop," he confirms. "I haven't smoked or anything else, either. Not my thing."

"Why do you own a breathalyzer?" you ask, a little dumbfounded.

"So I can breathalyze people," he shrugs, fiddling with the device—tossing it a few inches up in the air and catching it.

You raise your eyebrows at him, not satisfied with his non-answer.

“Sorry,” James chuckles at himself. "Uh, I have a lot of people leaving my parties trying to tell me they're sober enough to drive. I got loads of these ‘cause they can't argue with the numbers... as much as they might try to."

"Where did you even get that?" you ask. You can't imagine there's a very big market for personal breathalyzers.

"You can get almost anything with Prime delivery!" he says it like he's proud as he tucks it back into his pocket. "Hey, you want one? I've got a drawer full back in the house." He points with his thumb over his shoulder.

You laugh, shaking your head at his offer. James laughs along with you, his lips curling into a boyish grin.

Well, if you’re going to put your trust in anyone else tonight it, it might as well be the smart boy from chem who takes safety seriously enough to own multiple breathalyzers.

You start walking towards the house. When you don’t hear a set of footsteps following behind, you call over your shoulder, "Come on."

James catches up quickly, happy to be invited to join you. "Where are we going?"

"To your car so you can give me a ride home."

From the corner of your eye, you watch his face break out into a wide grin. And from there on out, there's an extra pep in his step as he leads you to his car.

When you're safe and sound, back in the comfort of your own room, you flop onto your bed with a dreamy look on your face. You hug the jacket closer to your body, thankful for the excuse to talk to him in chem on Tuesday. Little did you know, he let you keep the jacket so that you'd have one.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

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differenteagletragedy · 19 days ago

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Part Two of Cop Simon Riley!

When Simon starts putting on his uniform, he recognizes immediately that something is not quite right. He wears the damn thing enough to know exactly how it fits, but now the collar feels just a little too tight, and the sleeves don't reach his wrists. The pants thankfully seem ok, long enough but perhaps a little snug in the thighs. But it's clear that somehow he managed to shrink it a bit. Not enough to make it unbearable, but enough to make him annoyed.

It's his last clean uniform before a few days off, and it's not like he's a stranger to being in a bad mood at work, so he just acknowledges that he might be a little more of an asshole than normal and hops in his squad car to start his day.

After a while of cruising around, writing tickets and being generally grumpy while he waits for a good call, finally something pops up, something about a bar fight, and he's on it.

He hightails it to the bar, and when he strolls in, he hears yelling. There's a man by the bar with a bloody nose that catches his attention right away, finger pointing and curses flying, and when Simon looks over to find the focus of the man's fury, he can't help but chuckle.

Because it's you.

"—Little fucking bitch," the man seethes, apparently on the tail end of some rant, and you laugh.

Simon scans over you quickly, not seeing any injuries, but he does see that fire in your eyes he saw the first time he met you, wasted and indignant at another bar. He steps forward, making his presence known, and when you see him, you groan.

"I didn't do anything," you tell him quickly. "This asshole —"

"The fuck you didn't do anything!" the man interrupts, taking a step closer. "You probably broke my nose, you fucking cu—“

Simon moves in front of the man, putting a hand on his chest to stop him, muttering, "That's bloody well enough of that."

But he doesn't seem to have any sense of self-preservation, because he presses forward in his anger, trying to get around Simon to you. There's another name, another threat, and with more force than necessary, Simon slams him against the bar, slapping his handcuffs on him.

"What the fuck?" the man asks. "I get assaulted and I'm the one getting handcuffed?"

"Didn't see any assault, but I did hear you making threats," he says. He thinks about pulling the "assaulting a police officer" card again with the way he tried to shove past him to get to you, but he doesn't want you to think he's only got one move.

"I need medical attention," the man insists. "You have to get me medical attention."

Simon smirks, then radios in for backup. On most days he'd have a little more fun with an asshole like this, but he's got a different plan in mind tonight.

While he waits for another officer to arrive, he turns to you, eyes sweeping over you again. You stay put, but your jaw is clenched, obviously still heated. He sees you flex the fingers on your right hand a few times. It’s an in, and when he unloads the guy you hit off on another cop, he takes it.

“There’s the little troublemaker,” he taunts softly. “Let’s have a look at that hand.”

“My hand is fine,” you scoff, but you don’t argue when he takes it and lifts it to inspect.

Your knuckles are swollen, he can tell they’ll bruise. He tuts, then drops your hand and says, “Come on then."

"But I didn't do anything," you say quickly, and he laughs.

"Didn't bloody that poor bastard's nose? You'll have to do a bit better than that."

You roll your eyes, and it's clear than even though you're not as drunk as you were the last time, you're still just as bratty.

"I did," you admit, "but he deserved it."

Simon smiles, a bit warmer now, and says, "I don't doubt that. But I'm not arresting you, pet, just want to get some ice on that hand."

He takes you to his car, letting you sit in the front this time, which you seem suspicious about. It's fair — he’s obviously giving you special attention. But the way you look at him, a little nervous but ready to lunge if needed, like some cagey animal with its teeth bared, it does something to him. So he presses on.

He takes you to his place.

Your hackles are still up when he unlocks the door, holds it open for you to enter first then locks it behind him — a habit, nothing more, but your eyes are trained on his every movement. Without commenting, he leads the way to the kitchen, opening the freezer and pulling out an ice pack. He takes your hand again, then holds the pack to your knuckles.

“Hold it there,” he says quietly, though he makes no move to let go.

After a moment of silence, your eyes scan up his uniform, then you meet his eyes, just a bit shyer now that he has you alone.

“Why do you look like that?” you ask him.

“Like what?”

“Like a stripper version of a cop.”

He laughs, a bit surprised by your commentary — he’d forgotten about the shrunken uniform. But looking down at himself now, how the buttons of his shirt seem to be holding on for dear life as the fabric stretches across the muscled expanse of his chest, his sleeves rolled to the elbows, he can see what you mean.

“Nobody ever taught you to respect authority figures?”

You snort derisively, and his cock actually twitches in his too-tight pants.

“I respect people who earn it,” you tell him. “Not people who think they’re owed it just because they have a dumb shiny badge, Officer Riley.”

The way you address him with his title is rude, undoubtedly, but there’s a twinkle in your eye now. A challenge.

Simon loves a challenge.

Without another word, he backs you up until you hit the wall, and when you don’t pull away, he presses his free hand against the wall, leaning down and caging you in.

"This seems unprofessional," you tell him, your voice just above a whisper. "Like an abuse of power."

"You ever shut up?"

"Not really."

He likes the honesty, but what he likes even more is thinking about all he ways that he could be the one to shut you up. He has a few solid options in mind, but he starts off simple: by closing the distance between you with a kiss.

It's not exactly soft, just a bit tentative, but when you slide a finger between his belt and his waistband, yanking him a little closer, he stops holding back. The kiss turns consuming, and he drops the ice pack, barely registering the heavy thud of it hitting the floor as he brings both hands to your hips, holding you in place.

Simon moves his kisses towards your neck, pushing your head back to run his tongue over the column of your throat. He wants to taste you, feel you all over him, so much that he —

"Quit slobbering all over me," you mutter, tugging him by the collar back to your lips.

"Fucking hell," he chuckles, kissing you again. "Somebody ought to teach you some manners, pet."

"Wouldn't take."

"You don't think so?" he murmurs, his hands moving down to bunch your skirt up around your waist, slowly. "Don't think you can be trained up to behave?"

He can see it in your eyes, how much you still want to mouth off, but still, your legs part, just slightly. Enough for him to fit his hand in the space between, cupping you firmly as he speaks, his lips brushing against yours as he does.

"Lucky for you, I've got a little bit of faith in you."

#call of duty simon riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #cod simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost simon riley #cod ghost #ghost x you #ghost x reader #officer riley please #the shrunken uniform was a treat just for me tysm for understanding

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arietem · 2 months ago

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you're blurry, but you're all i see

masterlist

jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: you get a bit crossfaded at a party and your boyfriend jj takes care of you

soo fluffy

a/n: i'm in a fluffy mood apparently, but a smutty one is coming soon too ꕤ

"Yo, rude boy! Your girl is calling for you down there," Cleo says and points at the beach. He leaves you for a second and you're off on an adventure.

"You go get Pope, he's in one of his lectures moods tonight," he salutes Cleo and makes his way to you.

JJ finds you sprawled on the beach, a red solo cup next to your feet, its content spilling on the sand. You are alone and you're laughing at something only you seem to understand.

"Jaay Jaay!" You half scream when you see him approach, but it's weird - he's upside down. No wait, you are upside down. Who is upside down?

Tonight's party was not one you were pacing yourself at so you are pretty drunk and honestly maybe a little high too. A joint was passing around at one point in the night and who are you to say no to free weed?

JJ is towering over you and why is he still upside down? His blonde hair is falling into his eyes and he has a wide amused smirk on his face. He's a bit blurry now, but still the hottest guy on this damn island. And he's yours. You can't believe he's yours and you get to keep him.

You try to sit upright and sway a little in the process. JJ is right there, kneeling by your side, his warm, rough hand on your lower back. His palms are always rough and calloused, but his touch is the softest one you know.

"Woah, easy there angel." JJ easily catches you when you start falling backward again, your stomach now feeling a little funny. Maybe you didn't need those last few shots with Cleo.

"No, you're an angel," you say and bop JJ's nose. You reach out to hold on to his wrist, trying to regain some control over your movements. Somehow, saying coherent thoughts is easy and you know what's going on, mostly, so you're pretty proud of yourself. Until JJ hoists you up on your feet and your knees buckle.

Before you can plop back down on the sand, JJ is hooking his arms behind your knees and picking you up, bridal style. The crook of his neck seems like the coziest place ever so you lay your head there and close your eyes, taking in his smoky scent.

"Mmm…" You start mumbling against his neck and peppering him with feather-light kisses. You can feel how he shivers and it makes you even warmer and more lightheaded.

"Are you feeling okay?" JJ asks softly, tightening his grip. You just nod because forming words is now becoming too much. Your stomach is really not feeling okay, but you don't say anything and just hope it goes away on its own.

Then JJ stops and you open your eyes to see what's the holdup. "C'mon, let's get you in the Twinkie, angel." He helps you get in the van, where the crew is waiting. Through your half-open eyes you can see the girls are not looking so good either. Well, except Cleo. It seems Sarah has it the worst because John B is saying to JJ how she puked on his shoes. You try to laugh at him but nothing comes out.

JJ takes a seat next to you and brushes your hair off your face, tilting a water bottle for you to drink. You are drinking and Pope and John B are talking about something stupid and suddenly your stomach is really really not feeling good.

"John B!" You yell out frantically. He looks up at the rearview mirror and widens his eyes when he sees your face. "John B, stop the car!"

He shouts something about not throwing up in his car, please, and stops on the side of the road. JJ jumps out, pulling you with him, and steering you toward the bushes. You fall to your knees ungracefully, and damn that's gonna hurt tomorrow.

"It's okay. You're okay, let it out." JJ gathers your hair in a ponytail, holding it out of your face while you are regretting going to this stupid party. Once you feel like you are finally empty, you take a ragged breath and glance at JJ through your lashes. "Thank you baby for taking care of me."

JJ puts his hands on your cheeks, wiping beneath your eyes. "Are you kidding me? Of course I'm taking care of my girl". He kisses your forehead once, twice. "And now I have a funny story about ya I can tell over and over again." JJ smirks and you shove his shoulder, but there's no real force behind it.

You lock your eyes with him and both of you burst out laughing, one of those full belly laughs about nothing and everything.

"Lovebirds, if you're all done, time to go! I'm gonna fall asleep at the wheel!" You look behind you at John B who is impatiently waving his hands at you and JJ.

JJ interlaces his fingers with yours and you two make your way to the Twinkie once again. It's quiet inside, everybody dozing off and trying to get through the drunkenness. Before you know it, you arrive at the chateau and it takes some time to get everybody out of the car and into the house.

Still holding hands, you and JJ stumble into his room and you flop down on the bed. You turn over, sighing dramatically. "I got to wash my face Jayj, but I'm so tired." JJ is only in his boxers now, his shorts and tank top discarded on the floor. Oh, what a sight he is.

"Come to bed, baby." You spread your arms wide, anything about washing your face instantly forgotten.

"Wait, I have these…" JJ throws something on the bed next to you. "What..." Oh. He has makeup wipes for you. He keeps makeup wipes in his room for you.

"Oh, JJ." You cross the short distance to him and jump up in his arms, hooking your legs around his waist. He catches you effortlessly and presses a hot kiss to your lips, not caring you still have lipstick on.

JJ walks over to the bed with you in his arms and sits down, positioning you on his lap. He takes one of the wipes and gently takes off your makeup for you. It's one of the most intimate things you've experienced and you love him so much your heart might burst.

"I love you so much, JJ." Now you brush his hair away from his face, feeling the blonde strands between your fingers. His gorgeous blue eyes are boring into you, the affection written there plain as day.

"I love you too, angel. You're my girl." JJ kisses you again and you moan a little into his mouth. You wish you could keep kissing him, but your eyes are closing more and more by the second. Without hesitating, you take off your dress over your head.

JJ lets himself fall backward and you land on his chest. He then turns you over so you are the little spoon. With one more kiss on your neck and a content sigh in your ear, JJ falls asleep, you following quickly along. When you wake up, you two are still pressed together and there's nowhere you'd rather be.

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bellaxgiornata · 4 months ago

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Five Minutes

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 4.4k [Jax Fic Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; Fluff, nervous!Reader, suggestive comments, & a slightly soft, flirty Jax

Summary: While out with your friends at a seedy bar in Charming, you manage to catch Jax's eye–and he's quite determined just to get you to talk to him.

a/n: I'm temporarily back in my Jax Teller phase at the moment as I force myself to rewatch Sons of Anarchy and actually finish the last season instead of trying to pretend the show doesn't end like it does. I'm just going to use fanfic to spare my feelings right now even though I don't usually write for Jax. It's been months since I've written anything and this was admittedly written entirely today, but enjoy! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Raising the bottle of beer to your lips, you took a pull from it as your eyes scanned the dimly lit bar around you. Stanley's was a hole in the wall type of dive bar–not the sort of place you generally found yourself drinking on a Friday night with your friends after work. It was a seedy place, and that was only made even more apparent by the impossible to ignore presence of the Sons of Anarchy.

There were five of them sitting at a table on the opposite side of the bar from where you and your friends were drinking, all of them wearing their black leather kuttes with their worn patches and matching hardened expressions. They were deep in discussion as they sat with a few questionable looking men and one gentleman in particular who looked far too nicely dressed to be sitting and drinking in a place like Stanley's. It was obvious that they were doing something illegal, conducting some sort of business boldly out in the open.

Swallowing down your beer, you lowered the almost empty bottle back to the table and returned your attention to your three friends who were still in the middle of discussing Tabitha's breakup. Leaning forward and resting your forearms along the wooden surface, you felt it wobble beneath your shifting weight as you focused on the conversation once more. Though you had to strain to hear them over the rock music blaring through the place.

“It's his damn loss, Tab,” Sara said, her tone firm. “If Travis is going to sleep around on you, then you deserve better than his dumbass. He's not worth a single one of your tears.”

Monica was nodding from her place in the chair beside you, gesturing her glass of cranberry vodka at Tabitha. It was clear she'd already had a few too many of them since the four of you had arrived over an hour ago.

“That's right,” she began. “We aren't out tonight to drown your sorrows over that asshole, we're out to remind you that you're a beautiful badass and you don't need him. You can do better.”

An annoyed scoff left Tabitha in response before she rolled her eyes. “Because there's so many wonderful options of available men in Charming to choose from,” Tabitha replied bitterly.

Unable to fight the grin at her harsh but truthful comment, you let out a small laugh. “What? You don't like our options at tonight's wonderful drinking establishment? You've got so much to choose from.”

Monica and Sara were quick to laugh, matching smiles spreading across their faces. Both of them openly scanned the bar around the four of you, their eyes taking in the varying men drinking around Stanley’s.

“Yeah Tab, you've got your pick of either emotionally immature or emotionally unavailable,” Sara teased.

“Or old enough to be your father, beer gut included,” Monica joked.

Swallowing down another sip of your beer, you smiled as all three of your friends laughed at the table, the mood finally lifting among the group of you tonight. Your eyes darted across the bar back to the table of Sons. The blonde one you knew as Jax Teller, their leader, was standing and shaking the overly dressed gentleman's hand now, clearly finished with whatever illegal dealings they'd been handling here.

“And let us not forget,” you added on, your eyes averting from their table and returning to your friends as you lowered your voice, “the option of criminal biker. A Charming specialty.”

Each of your friends laughed once more before sending wary glances across the bar towards the leather-clad men. The Sons' presence here clearly made the four of you uneasy–almost as if bullets would start flying at any moment. And with the way things had been happening around town lately, it didn't feel far out of the realm of possibility with them here.

“Let's be real, they don't know a thing about commitment, either,” Tabitha replied, sitting back in her chair. “Any one of them would still be far worse than Travis.”

“There's a silver lining, at least,” Monica said before taking another deep drink from her glass. She swallowed it down before continuing, pointing a firm finger in the direction of the bikers across the bar. “Anything in this town is better than a Son.”

“Doesn't matter anyway,” Sara chimed in, her eyes darting to the bikers’ table and then back. “We are not the kind of women who even register on their radars.”

Picking up your own beer from the table, you drank down the last of its contents as your friends began speaking in hushed tones, the topic quickly taking a turn to the rumors they'd overheard about the Sons’ clubhouse parties. Sliding out of your chair, you had already stopped listening. You'd never concerned yourself with the small town's motorcycle club before, preferring to stay far away from them and the trouble they caused, so you certainly weren't about to suddenly care about the gossip and rumors now.

“I'm going to grab another beer, I'll be back,” you told the others.

Monica sent you a smile, acknowledging what you'd said before her eyes returned to Sara who was now in the middle of animatedly telling a story that she'd overheard about the Sons. Not wasting another minute, you ducked your head and walked away from the table, making your way towards the bar. As you wove between the other tables with gruff looking men who were giving you looks that made your palms sweat, you kept your eyes averted from any of them, doing your best to ignore the curious glances and the occasional comment thrown your way.

Reaching the bar, you caught the bartender's attention and ordered another beer, dropping some cash onto the bar counter as you did. You watched as the bartender grabbed the bills before walking off to retrieve your drink, your fingers absently drumming along the sticky counter as you waited.

A few feet further down from you, another figure sauntered up to the bar, casually leaning their forearms along it. Against your better judgment, your head shifted over your shoulder, your eyes drawn by the movement. You felt your heart accelerate, pounding a bit harder in your chest as you recognized Jax Teller standing there looking worn and irritated, a slight crease between his brows and a downward curve to his mouth. Immediately you glanced away, eyes focusing straight ahead of you as your body went tense. Unfortunately for you, the sudden movement seemed to have caught his attention. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw his head turn in your direction as if he'd noticed you looking at him, and then you could practically feel his eyes running over you.

Swallowing hard, your fingers drummed a bit more anxiously on the counter as you internally pleaded for the bartender to hurry up and return with your beer. But just as he began his slow return towards you with your opened bottle in hand, the Son beside you let out a soft, amused huff before he took a few steps closer. He easily slid further down the bar, now standing with barely three feet of space left between the both of you. His proximity had your pulse quickening even more as you determinedly kept your gaze straight ahead. Maybe if you didn't look at him again he wouldn't speak to you.

Though it didn’t take long for your theory to be proven incorrect.

“You look out of place here, darlin’,” Jax’s deep, smooth voice came from beside you as he leaned just a fraction closer.

Continuing to keep your gaze fixed ahead, you watched as the bartender wordlessly set your drink down in front of you before focusing on Jax next, a hint of trepidation on his face as he took the intimidating man's drink order. Not wanting to stick around, your hand darted out to grab your beer before you turned away from the bar. Pulling the bottle up to your lips, you immediately took a deep drink to offset the dryness that had settled in your mouth at Jax’s presence.

“You just gonna ignore me, sweetheart?” he asked, shifting along the bar to casually lean his back against it. “I'm just being friendly here.”

Pausing at his voice directed at you once again, you felt your body go rigid on the spot. Hesitantly, you threw a timid glance back over your shoulder at him and the sight had you stopping just two steps from the bar. He was resting against the counter with a mixture of amusement and mischief dancing in his blue eyes, a cocky smirk tugging his lips upwards at one corner. He looked completely comfortable and at ease now as he stared back at you, the faintest curious tilt to his head.

You’d seen the Sons often enough over the years since you’d lived in Charming. Their bikes were impossible to miss when they came roaring through the streets of the small town, and you’d often seen them around the clubhouse lot every time you drove past Teller-Morrow Automotive whenever you drove to and from work. The sight of these men wasn’t anything new to you, but you’d also never been standing quite so close to one of them before. Especially not Jax. The rumors you’d always heard about how handsome he was hadn’t remotely done him justice–he was somehow even more attractive than he’d looked from across the bar earlier.

Jax Teller was…beautiful, if you were being honest with yourself. In a sort of rugged, dangerous way. The sort of way that had your heart hammering like a caged bird in your chest with his confident smirk, those engaging blue eyes which clearly held an endless amount of secrets, and that damn slicked back blonde hair that had your fingers itching to grab onto it and pull his face between your legs.

As if he could read the thoughts racing through your mind, his smirk grew into a lazy smile, one hand reaching over and grabbing the drink the bartender set down beside him. His eyes never once left you as he watched you, the gaze not unlike that of a cat about to toy with a mouse. The look he was directing at you had you tightening your grip on your beer bottle, your palm dampening nervously against the glass.

“Come on, darlin’,” he tried again, slowly gesturing his head towards the barstool beside him. “Take a seat. I just wanna talk.”

“I–I don't think that's a good idea,” you stammered.

Taking another step to leave, you turned and made a desperate attempt to get out of his line of sight and back to your friends at the table, but you’d only managed that one step before his hand was lightly grasping onto your upper arm and gently turning you back towards him. Immediately you bristled at the touch, your body tensing as you jolted backwards and out of his reach. The smile on Jax’s face only grew wider, like he’d found your reaction to his touch entertaining. With his drink held in one hand, he raised both of his hands in mock surrender.

“Easy there, darlin’,” he drawled out, still grinning. “Just wanna talk. That’s all. Nothin’ else, I promise.”

Standing there with your heart thudding away inside of your ribcage, you tried to swallow back the lump forming in your throat. He was so damn comfortable and confident just leaning against the bar like that, it was only making you more nervous. What the hell did he want with you? You clearly looked nothing like any of the women you’d spotted hanging around the clubhouse whenever you’d driven past, he couldn’t possibly be thinking that he was going to take you home to his bed. Though the thought of that, of being alone with him like that , had your cheeks heating as your eyes darted down to the bottle of beer in your hands.

“I think you’d find I’m not remotely the kind of company you’re looking for,” you answered back, awkwardly attempting to avoid his gaze.

A low, rumbling chuckle fell out of him at your comment, the sound drawing your eyes back up to his. Somehow he just looked even more entertained.

“And what makes you say that?” he asked, that lazy grin still on his lips. “What kinda company do you think I’m looking for, sweetheart?”

The question drew the heat further down your neck, your whole body starting to feel like it was on fire now. You were absolutely not made for conversations with someone so straightforward and unflappable as Jax Teller. It seemed the more nervous you became, the more he enjoyed this unexpected interaction with you.

“Something more exciting than me,” you answered after a moment. “Look, I…have friends who’re probably wondering where I’ve disappeared to by now–”

“I’m just asking you to sit right here with me,” he said, cutting you off with a shrug. “Not trying to run off anywhere with you, darlin’.”

Closing your mouth at his interruption, you stood there for a long moment cautiously studying him. Why was he so damn insistent on you sitting with him and talking? What the hell did he want from you? Because it had to be something, right? There was no way he just wanted something as simple and innocent as a conversation.

Turning just a fraction towards him, your brows drew together in confusion and contemplation, your question coming out just loud enough to be heard over the music in the bar. “Why? Why do you want to talk?”

Jax shrugged a single broad shoulder again in response. “Call it curiosity. You don’t look like you belong in a place like this,” he answered.

Your eyes narrowed a fraction at him in return. “Like I don’t belong in a bar?”

A soft huff of laughter fell out of him before he shook his head, an almost boyish grin spreading across his lips as his eyes creased at the corners. “Nah, darlin’. That’s not what I meant,” he replied.

When you didn’t answer, his expression softened just a fraction as he straightened up against the counter behind him. His hand reached out towards you again and your eyes quickly darted down towards his ringed fingers, a look of fear passing over your face. Catching sight of your obvious discomfort, Jax’s hand hesitated in the space between you both before it slowly dropped back down to his side.

“Sorry, I forgot.” There was an edge of humor to his voice. “ You don’t want me to touch you. Gotta admit, I’m not used to that reaction from women.”

Clearing your throat, your eyes returned to his face. “Most women usually don’t like being touched by strange men at a bar,” you pointed out, trying to sound more bold than you felt. “That’s a normal reaction.”

The corner of his lips twitched again at your reply, as if he found your attempt at being firm with him more funny than anything. He nodded his head slowly before he spoke. “Yeah, suppose I’ve heard that.” His hand reached out to pull out the barstool beside him instead, dragging it over towards you before he gave it two gentle pats. “Come on. Just…quench my curiosity about why a timid thing like you is drinking in a place like this. I gotta know.”

Bottom lip rolling beneath your teeth, you chewed it in thought for a moment as your attention shifted down towards the awaiting barstool. Was that what he was after then? You just stood out to him and he wanted to know why you were here? That was all?

Cautiously, you turned further towards him, a wary expression still on your face despite the way the smile once more grew on his. An idea was forming in your mind, one you hoped would get him off of your back.

“If I talk with you for five minutes, will you leave me alone afterwards?” you asked, the question coming out of you slowly.

Jax’s eyebrows rose marginally, almost like he couldn’t believe just how much you seemed to not want anything to do with him. One of his hands rose up from off the bar, his fingers running across his bearded mouth as if in thought while his eyes remained fixed on you in front of him. After a moment, he nodded once.

“Yeah, alright,” he answered, gesturing his head back towards the barstool once more. “You’ve got a deal, darlin’. Five minutes and then I’ll stop bothering you.” He paused, shooting you a handsome grin. “If that’s what you still want in five minutes.”

Eyes darting across the bar, your gaze landed over on your three friends still sitting at the table you’d left them at. They were all staring at you, watching you closely as if searching for some sign of distress considering who you were talking with. You gave them the faintest shake of your head to let them know you were fine before you took the few steps over to the barstool beside Jax, hesitantly lowering yourself onto it. He immediately shifted along the bar, resting his left elbow on the surface and leaning his weight onto it as he watched you take another pull off of your beer.

“Name’s Jax, but I’m guessin’ you already know who I am judging by the way you’ve been trying to scurry away from me this whole goddamn time,” he teased lightly. He jutted his chin at you, that hint of curiosity back in his eyes. “You got a name, darlin’?”

With your gaze focused on your beer bottle as you set it along the bar, your fingers fidgeted with the label along the bottle. The condensation on the brown glass already had a corner of it peeling off. Awkwardly you gave him your name, half of you wondering if that was even a good idea.

Jax chuckled in response, drawing his glass to his lips as he spoke. “Was expecting more of a fight from you on that, I’ll be honest,” he admitted, taking a drink before lowering the glass back to the bar counter. He took another step closer, leaning towards you when he spoke again. “So what exactly are you doing drinking at this shithole? Girl like you doesn’t look like she belongs in a place like this.”

Shaking your head, you glanced up at him beside you from beneath your lashes. If he wasn't some dangerous, playboy criminal you might have let yourself feel more flattered by his attention. Because you absolutely, definitely were not.

“No, I…generally don't come here,” you agreed with a small nod. “I uh…I'm out with my friends. One of them is going through a breakup. We didn't want to run into her ex while we were out tonight so…we came here tonight. Because no one ever goes to Stanley's.”

His blue eyes searched your face for a long moment as he let your response settle over him. Something about the intensity of his gaze mixed with the scent of cigarette smoke and leather emanating off of him at this distance had your stomach twisting nervously inside of you for different reasons than a few minutes ago.

“Breakup, huh?” he mused after a moment. “Brought your friend out drinking to cheer her up. That's why you're here?”

“Yeah,” you answered quietly.

He bit his lip, fighting back a smile on his face at your explanation. The sight had your eyes darting away just so you could control your breathing. He was quickly becoming intimidating for an entirely different reason now.

“Makes sense,” he replied. “Guess you’re right, doubt you’d run into anyone in this damn place. Though it…really isn’t the best place for a thing like you to be drinking with your friends.”

Grabbing your beer, you raised it to your lips for another deep drink. He was making you so damn nervous that you couldn't refrain from blurting your next words as you set the bottle back down. “I'm guessing you're not out here to help your friend get over a breakup.”

A wide smile broke out across Jax's face, the sight quickly followed by his deep, rumbling laugh. The sound was so unexpected and pleasant that it caught you off guard, a small smile slipping onto your face in return before you could stop it.

“No darlin’,” he replied, still chuckling at the absurdity of the idea. “That’s definitely not what brought me out here tonight.”

The smile lingered on his lips as he watched you, something impossible to read in his expression. There was a growing curiosity in his sharp, blue eyes the longer he stood beside you, though. The sight of it had you shifting on the barstool anxiously.

“I got a feeling you're not just the awkward and shy thing I first thought you were, sweetheart,” Jax mused, his voice dropping to something a bit lower. “Seems like there's more to you that you're hiding behind that deer-in-the-headlights look you keep throwing my way.” His lips quirked up into something mischievous as he continued. “Kinda makes me wonder…”

Brows immediately furrowing at the way he'd trailed off, you stiffened in your seat. “Wonder what?” you asked him cautiously.

Jax paused for a moment, that devious little smirk still on his lips. His left hand absently swirled his glass along the bar as he watched you closely, almost like he was studying you. Observing you. Trying to make sense of you.

“What I'd gotta do to get you to loosen up a bit,” he answered after a moment.

Something about the way he'd said that, all resonant and sultry, paired with his confident smirk that seemed to have a double meaning, had a shudder running through you. He was smooth– far too smooth. Despite the fact that you knew how dangerous he was, knew the type of man he was, you felt a warmth slowly flooding through you, one that wasn't related to nerves or alcohol. When he shifted beside you at the bar, his knee suddenly brushing along your thigh over your jeans, you practically jumped in your seat.

“Relax, you're so on edge, darlin’,” Jax teased you, an amused huff passing between his lips. “I'm not gonna try anything. Consider me on my best behavior right now with you.” Jax paused, his gaze openly raking over you once more where you sat on the barstool, not even remotely being subtle. “Unless you ask me real nice, not to be.”

Almost instantly your eyes widened at his clear flirtation, your lips parting in surprise. That heat flooding you only seemed to be burning you up a bit hotter. Attention shifting back to the beer in front of you, your tongue darted out and dampened your lips in a nervous gesture. How in the hell was he affecting you like this? You should know better than to let a Son be chatting you up like this.

“You know,” Jax continued, taking another half-step closer to where you were sitting, “I’m not half as bad as you probably think I am.” He hesitated for a moment, making a slight face before adding on, “At least, in some respects. Just gimme a chance, sweetheart. Let me prove it to you.”

Eyes raising from the bottle of beer in front of you, your gaze landed on the clock on the wall behind the bar. It was well off by a half an hour from being remotely accurate, but five minutes had certainly passed since you'd sat down with him. As if he knew what you were thinking by where your eyes had shifted, Jax’s gaze followed yours to the clock. A moment later his attention returned to your face. Gradually your eyes landed back on him, watching as a lazy half-smile spread over his handsome mouth.

“Looks like my five minutes are up, darlin’,” he pointed out, leaning against the bar as he kept his eyes on you. “You're free to run back to your friends now.”

For some reason, you found yourself not immediately moving from your place on the barstool. He was right, you'd given him your five minutes to chat and quell his curiosity about why you were here. It was such a small thing for him to have wanted to ask you about, and yet somehow that had left you curious about him now.

“Or–” he said, breaking the mounting silence between you two as he raised his glass to his lips, pausing with it there as he continued, “–you can give me more than five minutes of your time tonight. Up to you, sweetheart. My evening is wide open at the moment.”

Sitting there, you watched as his lips wrapped around the edge of his glass, the dark liquid tipping back into his mouth as his eyes remained on you. Your hand gripped the neck of your beer bottle harder, your heart thrumming in your throat at the offer to stay and talk to him. You knew you shouldn't, you knew the smart thing to do was to get up with your beer and go back to your friends and forget this entire moment had ever even happened in the first place. Jax Teller was trouble. He wasn’t a good guy. He was a notorious playboy with a criminal record. But for some damn reason you couldn't move from your seat beside him. And that only had his smirk growing wider the moment he realized that you weren’t moving.

His foot slid out, casually hooking around the leg of the barstool beside you before he pulled it out. Settling down into the seat and getting comfortable, one of his hands gestured at your beer that sat half-drunk in your nervous grip.

“Why don't you finish that and I'll get you another, darlin’?” he suggested, arching one of his brows at you.

Slowly, you raised the bottle to your lips, drinking back more of the alcohol. Jax’s eyes creased at the corners as he leaned closer towards you, resting his elbows on the bar counter.

“So, why don’t you go on and tell me more about how you’re not the kinda company I’m looking for tonight, darlin’?” he teased, that infuriatingly handsome smirk slipping back onto his lips.

#jax teller x reader #jax teller x fem!reader #jax teller x you #jax teller #sons of anarchy

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mintmatcha · 3 months ago

Text

Inevitable Things : chapter twelve

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks, fingering

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Sticky and wet. Your pants are sticky and wet.

Pulling your panties up while still damp was a big mistake, you think as you walk back through the restaurant. The water you spilled in the restroom is all down your ass and is quickly cooling to an uncomfortable temperature, not to mention the absolute mess of cum and spit that's currently in the gusset of your panties-

And yet none of it manages to ruin your mood.

Really, you should feel bad. Guilty, at the very least. You should be feeling bad about doing this to Touya, doing this in a public fucking space--

But, you don’t. Not in the slightest. No, you feel good. Better than you have in a very long time. There’s a levity in your step that you don't think you've ever had. It takes effort to tamp down your smile as you slide back into the table, adjusting your hair just in case. Your whole body is buzzing with post orgasm bliss, but you can't let Hizashi know that.

“Oh my god, there you are!” Hizashi slams his hands down and groans. “I thought you got lost!”

You never even got to pee. That’s a bit of a bummer, but you think it’s a worthy sacrifice. Fuck, you’ll never pee again if that's the alternative.

“There was a line,” you dismiss. God, you need to cum more often. This is great. Maybe you can masturbate tonight when you get back to the hotel room-

A tingle thrills up your spine as you remember the fact that you won't be alone tonight. No, Aizawa is coming back with you, putting that talented fucking mouth of his to good use. You should have tried this years ago; it certainly would have made work more tolerable. It would have made Aizawa more tolerable too.

Fuck, you wish you could tell Hizashi that he was right; having fun is great. You had almost forgotten that being in love could be fun.

Not that you're in love. That would be criminally insane. You're just high off of post orgasmic bliss.

“Where did Aizawa go?” you ask, casually. Hizashi quirks a brow as he takes a sip of his drink.

“Taking a call. Manufacturing had an issue, apparently.”

“Again?”

Manufacturing is always having an issue; it comes with the territory for biomedical companies. Production of the products is actually outsourced, including the computer chips needed for the bed. Most of the time, issues can be dealt with internally, but there are also times that it has to be elevated all the way to engineering. It’s a good lie, in theory, but Aizawa is going to have to explain why they are contacting a lead engineer and not someone lower on the food chain.

“Um,” you shift in your seat. The excitement inside you needs to come out or else you might explode. “I got a text from the guy from last night.”

“Shut up-- that’s why you were gone so long, huh? Sexting in the bathroom?”

Oh, he’d die if he knew the truth. Absolutely die.

“We weren’t sexting.” Not a lie! “But, I think I'm going to invite him over to my room tonight.”

Hizashi tilts his head down so he can look at you from over his glasses. It's a very Nemuri move, complete with her little smirk.

“Are you gonna just make out again, or…?”

You tap your heels against the floor.

“No,” you hum, as innocently as possible.

“No?”

“No, I--” Oh, you have to literally bite your tongue to kill your smile. It's like being sixteen again, giddy and giggly over nothing- “I think I wanna do more.”

With a mouth like that, you might just let Aizawa do whatever he wants. Hell, you had asked to go slow, but now that you've had a taste, you don't know if you can keep the brakes on. You had forgotten how good it feels to be wanted, to be craved, to be touched… and Shouta seems determined to give you everything you need.

Hizashi physically reacts by grabbing the table and shaking it with a slack jawed amazement.

“Yes! Yes!” You have to grab your drink and Aizawa to stop them from spilling, but you're laughing all the while. “Good for you!”

“Hizashi, the waters!”

“Who is this guy?” Hizashi asks. ��Is he cute? Is he nice?”

Is Aizawa cute? Not really. He's more… handsome than cute. Hardened, but soft. And he's certainly not nice. In fact, you’d label him as very not nice. Mean, even. Though, he did get you that sandwich this morning, which was really sweet. And he has those cats, which makes him a little softer than you first imagined-

“He's okay, I guess,” you settle on.

Hizashi nods, a bit too solemn. It sets you on edge, the way he clams up as he watches you, eyeing up and down over and over. You can practically see the gears turning in his brain as he thinks.

“Shut up.” He leans in on his elbows, sternly. “It's Shouta, isn't it?”

Don't panic. You're pinned down, like a bug under glass, but you can't panic. Luckily, your brain is still stupidly swimming, so you're able to fight your institution and just stare back at him with what you hope is a bewildered glare.

“What.”

The man leans back and scoffs, then scoffs again, louder. His hand lies over his heart as if you've slapped him, indignant. The restaurant suddenly isn’t loud enough; you need the music to be turned up or for the crowd to get thicker to hide what’s about to come out of this man’s mouth.

“Oh my god, it's totally him! You’re totally boning!”

Fuck. Double fuck.

“I mean, you both just disappeared at the same time-” Hizashi jolts up mid sentence. “Did you guys just fuck in the bathroom?! Oh my god, good for you! Is he good? He’s gotta be good-”

Oh, shit. Oh, damn. The room might be closing in on you actually. It's time to do what you do worst: lie. You push away from the table with a snort, lip curled up the way Aizawa's does.

“That's disgusting , Hizashi.” Oh, there’a vitriol in that. You almost smile out of pride, but you keep your cool. You have to-- you can't ruin this thing between you before it's even really started. “In a bathroom? With him? I'd rather die.”

Your charade doesn’t seem to affect him.

“Oh, come on-” he laughs. “You're telling me you two don't have something going on? You both just magically found other people last night?”

“I wouldn't sleep with him if he was the last man on earth,” you insist. “Aizawa is awful! Awful! Why would I ever-?”

A figure looms over you. “What did I walk into?”

Triple fuck. From someone who stomps most of the time, Aizawa certainly has a quiet step today. You swivel around, trying to flash a panicked look. Somehow, Aizawa seems to understand. His brow flickers up for a brief second, then returns to the usual unimpressed spot. Should you be worried that the two of you have figured out lying this easily? Usually, Touya just lies to you, not with you.

“Hizashi thinks we're sleeping together.” You wave a hand dismissively. You hope that no one else notices that Aizawa’s face is noticeably damp-- freshly washed.

“Ugh.” He rolls his head back as if he’s been slapped, sliding into the seat beside Hizashi. His foot bumps against you and you question if it’s on purpose. Is.. was that his good leg? Or the bad one? Maybe he’s kicking you accidentally. “Her? What's wrong with you?”

Oh, ouch. That. Huh.

Logically, you know it’s just part of the lie you’ve started, but it still somehow stings. Rejection, even fake rejection, makes you ache. It falls too close to home, too close to Touya. (Not that you’re thinking about Touya tonight. No-- you’re allowing yourself to have fun. You’re forgetting him the same way he’s probably forgotten about you--)

Swallowing down your pride, you adjust yourself in your seat, pulling on your still soaked pants-

“You aren't a prize either.” Again, your own bite surprises you. “I've been dealing with your shitty attitude for years and-”

“My shitty attitude? You're the one who stomps around when your boyfriend gets fired.”

Your jaw falls slack. Okay, you should be offended, but… there’s an edge of something attractive in the way his dark eyes narrow. The grit to his voice reminds you of moments ago, how he talks to you when you’re alone-

“That’s rich.” You’re watching his face. Oh, that sting? It’s changed. Now, there’s a simmering want inside you, begging to be fed. You need him mad, need him angry, need him riled up- “Where’s your girlfriend?”

There’s a freeze. Both men have mirrored expressions of surprise. Aizawa blinks, then tightens his expression. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, that’s right.” You lift your glass and pretend to inspect the liquid inside. “You’ve been single since I’ve met you.”

Stunned, Hizashi opens his mouth to say something, but Aizawa beats him to the punch. He bends over the table with a glowering expression, those dark eyes boring into you. It reminds you of the fights you two had in office, but now that expression thrills you instead of terrifies.

“Oh, fuck you,” he seethes. “Sorry that I’m not whoring myself over the office with the interns.”

Oh, you kind of want to suck his cock right now. Obviously, you’ve always had a thing for red flags, but this is kind of ridiculous. He must have done something fucking magical or satanic to you pussy to make you act like this. Are you acting insane? You might be acting insane.

“Excuse me?” you ask through your teeth.

Oh, he’s riled up now, his eyes narrowed into slits. “ I saw those bruises you sucked into Kaminari.”

That steals a genuine laugh from you. Is that a genuine concern for him? You certainly hope not; Denki is… well, he’s Denki. He’s a sweet guy in his own regard, but you wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole. He’s young and, clearly, you prefer older guys.

(Huh. That’s a new revelation for you. Touya is your age, but… There’s something unbelievably sexy about the grey at Aizawa’s temple, the wrinkles next to his eyes-)

“You think I’m fucking that kid? Fuck you.”

“Fuck you.”

Oh, you hope he does. You hope he absolutely ruins you.

“Fuck-”

“Okay, okay,” Hizashi interrupts you, arms spread as if keeping you both from leaping over the table. “You people! What happened to the truce?”

“You happened!”

Somehow the rest of dinner goes well. Hizashi makes sure the conversation steers towards work and his plans for the night. You do have to give the wait staff an extra big tip-- Hizashi may have said ‘butt plug’ a bit too loudly for the poor guy’s comfort.

Occasionally, Shouta looks your way. He ponders a bit too long on your features, has a bit too much of a smile on his face. His leg bumps against your again, a silent reminder that he’s there. Honestly, thank god that Hizashi was convinced by your lies, because this man is being obvious.

And frankly, you’re living for it.

You’re still vibrating with excitement by the time you all leave together. He’s coming back to your room tonight, coming back for more. You might be getting addicted to this feeling, addicted to being wanted, to cumming on someone’s tongue-

Maybe you should throw caution to the wind and fuck him.

Oh, that thought sends a chill up your spine. It’s been so long since you’ve been filled. Sex always came with anxiety before, but now, you might be excited. Especially when Aizawa’s cock seems so fucking thick-

“You all ready for tomorrow?” Hizashi’s voice shocks you out of your thoughts. God, you’re worse than him! One orgasm and you’ve devolved into a needy pervert.

Aizawa groans, pressing his thumbs into his temples. The hotel lobby buzzes with life as you all enter. The tiles seems to get more dazzling at night, blue illuminated by the dangling chandeliers and air of excitement.

“No. It’s going to be a long night.”

Hizashi elbows his friend’s side. “No mysterious girl for you tonight, huh? Too busy studying?”

Aizawa is starkly quiet for a long moment, mouth screwed tight as if the question upset him. You almost worry that he’s considering it-- that he’s going to go back to his room without you, and dread sets into your bones. The need has already built back up inside you, anticipation tingling all the way to your fingers. It’s a little alarming, how quickly you’ve gotten addicted to the idea of fucking him, to cumming with him-

Aizawa shrugs away your worries. “I’ll find time.”

Internally, you cheer.

“Aw, you dog. Now- Do I need to supervise you two?” Hizashi teases as he turns on his heel, walking backwards into the hall. “Escort you to your rooms so you don’t murder each other in the elevator?”

“I think we’ll manage,” you say as you press the button. Hizashi leaves and the two of you are left in silence.

The elevator door rumbles closed behind you two after you both set in. Aizawa shifts back against the wall with a sigh, barely audible over the gentle muzak. He looks tired, but in a different way than usual: a gentle, content exhaustion, one that wears well on his features, but doesn’t deepen the creases on his brow. It suits him much more than the usual, miserable look he has.

“I should stop by my room before-” Aizawa starts.

You press off of the wall and close the distance between you. It doesn't matter what he was going to say, because you weren't going to listen anyway. Instead, you press yourself up on to your toes and catch his lips mid sentence, moving fast and sure enough that you catch him completely off guard. You can feel his surprise in his inward gasp as you force him back against the cold steel wall. There's a moment of hesitation -shock, you realize gleefully- before he caves into you, hands on your waist dragging you in until your hips press against his.

The quiet gives you space to enjoy the tiny moments he gives you: the hitch in his breath when you hold him tighter, the rumble in his chest when your teeth close around his lower lip, the sound of fabric against fabric as his hands drift lower and his hands grip your ass-

“You really piss me off,” he mumbles into you. “You get off on lying, don’t you?”

Only with him, you think. Only with you. The door dings open and you loosen your grip, but Aizawa holds firm, holds tight.

“Aizawa,” you mumble into his lips, but he just keeps going. “Ai-”

Another peck shuts you up for a moment.

“Shouta!”

Finally, he reacts and lets you go, his touch trailing on you for just a moment longer. You have to jut out an arm to stop the door from closing again.

“Listen-” he exhales. “I am going to my room. I’m going to shower, brush my teeth, then come to you. Okay?”

More than okay. Perfect. Excellent. Ideal.

“Okay.” You try to play it cool, but his nose wrinkles in delight at the tremble in your voice. “I’ll be waiting.”

Stepping out of the elevator, you glance behind one last time. It feels like you should say something, give him a goodbye, but instead you just watch the doors close in silence. His eyes never leave you, staring with a silent, hungering desire.

You might have to fuck him.

Back in your room, you do the same as him. You brush your teeth, rinse the day off of your body, and contemplate yourself in the fogged reflection of the mirror. The buzzing in your skin is either anxiety or excitement, maybe a bit of both, but you can’t stop riding the high that comes with them. Being wanted feels good, too good, impossibly good- so good that you’re afraid it’s about to be taken away.

Logically, it will be. This… thing must have a terminating point somewhere. There’s no possible way that the two of you continue this into the workplace, is there? Everything ends at some point, everyone leaves eventually-

No. Focus. Have fun. Focus on having fun.

You didn’t pack any perfume, so you hope the hotel body wash smells alluring enough. Your hair still looks okay enough that you don’t need to bother styling it- but you still try to, just a bit. It’s normal to want to look nice, to smell soft, to be soft, but there’s also an embarrassment to wanting to be pretty. You hadn’t felt it before, but now, you’re suddenly concerned about the curves of your body and how it sits differently than you want. He’s seen most of you before, and yet you’re now caught up in the imperfections. Which underwear did you pack again? Nothing sexy, that’s for sure. Only skin tone bras too. Fuck-- you don’t actually know if you own anything enticing.

Do you even own anything sexy?

What clothes should you even wear for him anyway? I’d be strange to put your clothes back on, right? What about pajamas? What will he be wearing? Hopefully not that fucking yellow sweatshirt he works in. You find yourself pacing around the room in only your towel, tidying up and trying to decide what the best option is. Maybe just a shirt? Like Winnie the Pooh?

No, that’s stupid. Ugh, you wish you were someone like Nemuri, someone bold and sexy and confident--

What would Nemuri do?

The dreaded knock at the door stocks you from your worry. You make a quick decision; turning out all of the lights, you tiptoe to the front door and peer out the peephole. Yes, it’s him, dressed in a simple white shirt, dark hair freshly washed. His expression is unreadable, as usual, but perhaps on the brink of anxious.

Why would he be nervous? The thought makes you giggle. Maybe, just maybe, he’s just as jittery as you are over this-

But you doubt it.

Before you lose your nerve, you open the door, still in your towel. Aizawa’s eyes widen just a bit, then narrow with a keen excitement.

“Am I too early?” he teases.

“No,” you reply, “Just in time.”

And you let your towel drop.

A beat passes before he reacts. Aizawa’s jaw literally drops. Before you can revel in the satisfaction, he’s crowding you again, hands ghosting over your body as if he can’t decide where to touch first. His shirt is rough against your bare skin and you’re suddenly very aware of how your nipples have pearled up. The hotel’s air conditioning is rolling, much colder than you’d ever make your home, and your skin is goosepimpling under it, but you’re still so hot, so warm-

“Oh god,” he whispers, breathy, barely sane. “Look at you.”

The first kiss is wild, breath stealing, rough- it forces you back a step, just far enough that the door slams closed and leaves you in the dark. His touch has settled on your chest, cupping your tits up between his fingers in a boyish way, one that's so much less precise than his usual way of loving you.

“God-” he says again. “God-”

Suddenly, his lips are gone and you can feel him hunched over you, breath hot against your tits. The gentle tug of teeth scares a gasp out of you, then floods your body with heat.

“I want to see you,” Aizawa's mouth closes around your nipple for a second, his spit cooling almost instantly. ”I want to touch you-”

His hand wraps around your thigh and squeezes. Your body burns hot, your core tight, cunt wet- Hotel darkness, with the curtains drawn, feels deeper than home. Only the red numbers of the clock illuminate the nightstand. You can't see how he moves, how he looks, but you can feel it--

And you want to feel more, more, more, as much as he'll give you.

“Touch me,” you beg. “Please.’

He drops to his knees with a quick, labored exhale. Fuck- his leg. He’s already kissing the lower round of your stomach, trailing down to the curve of your mons, taking his sweet, sweet time.

“Aizawa-” Your hands run through his hair and gently urge him back, but he just presses on, pulling your knee over his shoulder- “Your leg-”

He's not listening. He's too busy nudging your legs apart, bumping his shoulder into your knee until it gives to him. For the second time that night, Aizawa puts his mouth on you. This time, he inhales, embarrassingly deep.

“Ah-” the sound escapes you involuntarily. “Don't-- don't smell me.”

The hot press of tongue ignites something inside you, something innate. Your hips buck on their own, the ridge of his nose bumping against your still swollen clit. After earlier, your pussy is still puffy and well loved, and the pressure sends your spine straight.

“I should have shaved-” you babble. His arm has looped around your supporting leg. “I'm sorry, I should have-”

In the dark, every touch feels more. More powerful, more potent, more smoldering: his hand is drifting up, under your ass and in, in, in-

When his fingers join his tongue, spreading your cunt open wider from behind.

“God-” Your brain is soup, stewing in its own electric pleasure. You can feel the chill of his inhales again and it's all you can do to whine, to push away his forehead- “God, don't smell me-”

“Shut the fuck up.” He rips his mouth away from you and you can feel his eyes staring up in the dark. “Just-- shut up and take it.”

Your jaw clamps shut. Aizawa’s back on you, huffing and sucking greedily. Every muscle in your body is perking and clenching, your knee wobbling. His hand digs into your ass, dragging you so firmly against him that his nose bridge digs into your skin. The way he kisses at you is overwhelming; it feels like he’s pulling pleasure out of you, dragging it out hand over hand like it's attached to a string-

You want to cry or plead or curse or something. but Aizawa’s stolen your words from you, so all you can do is silently whine.

It's too much, it's not enough, it's-

His free hand is suddenly on your cunt, a finger pressing up and into you. The sensation shocks a gasp out of you. It's not a lot, but it's been so long since anything been inside you; the sensation only worsens your needs, tightens the want-

A second finger slides in. There's a stretch and you suddenly feel drunk, like the room has tilted on its axis.

You're going to fuck this man. You have to fuck this man. You might go insane if you don't get that cock inside you.

When you cum, it flushes every inch of your skin with a lumbering heat, like he's raking you over coals. It's ugly and brutal, it almost brings you to your knees, but Shouta holds you steady. He doesn't miss a beat, still lapping at your folds like he needs you to live.

It's horrendous. It's torturous. The air punches out of your body as he strokes your already overworked clit. Tension bunches in every muscle, pulling you over him, hunched and panting. Your fingers claw at his scalp, tug his hair, but Shouta doesn't stop.

“I came-” you protest, voice climbing higher than ever. “I came, I came-- aa--”

He pulls away to speak.

“I know.” His fingers curl and press into you again, right against a deep spot. “Do it again.”

And he's on you again.This time, he’s more forward, aggressive with how he licks and suckles. It's no longer hungry-- it's mean. It doesn't coax pleasure from you, it forces.

“I can't,” you whine. Every flick of tongue shocks more pleasure from you, burning through your cunt deep into your gut. You're boneless, you're stiff, you're wobbling-

“I can't, I can't-”

Aizawa rests his cheek against your thigh, his fingers working harder and harder. It’s much more intense in the dark, where the only thing you can focus on is the feeling and the sound of his fingers squelching into you.

“You can-” He insists into your skin. He kisses the crease of your leg. “Let go.”

“I can't-”

Oh, a pressure is building inside you, one that's rolling and rabid. You think you might literally be drooling, but you can't tell anymore; all you can think about is his fingers drilling into your pussy, urging faster-

“I can't.”

He's not telling you to shut up anymore. He just says, firmly: “You can.”

And you do.

It's a lift, that moment where gravity forgets you when the roller coaster crests the hill. There's nothing, blissful nothing, a weightless second where you can finally pull in a full breath. Maybe this is it, maybe you’ll never fall-

Then, it crashes.

You think you might have gone blind for a moment. Stars flicker over your vision and your brain just can't keep up. Earlier, he compared it to a computer resetting and you suddenly understand exactly what he meant like that: your body slumps over as if he's pulled your batteries out. Aizawa has to pull his hands from you and brace to stop the both of you from tumbling over.

“Hey now,” he grunts. “Do not fall.”

“Shut--shut up,” you manage to say, still all twitches and kicks. There’s… you’re.. There’s a lot going on right now and you can’t pull your brain together enough to process any of it. For a blissfully long time, you just are: no thoughts, no doubts, no worries.

When you finally catch yourself, Aizawa’s still down on his knees, patting your flank in silent support.

“Are you alright?” His cheeks are dreadfully wet with you, caught in his stubble

“No,” you whine. “I think I died.”

He pats the side of your thigh again. “You're fine. Help me up.”

Oh, shit. His leg. You pull yourself together enough to stand on your own. Your thighs rub together with their own wet and you’re horrified at the amount of it all. It’s down to your fucking knees. God, you didn’t even think you could do that. Blindly, you reach into the dark and take Aizawa’s hand, hoisting him off of the floor.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Peachy. I’m just old.” He pulls on your hand and brings you closer. When his lips find yours, your own taste shocks a gasp out of you. His face is as wet as your legs, stubble gritting against your chin. It’s surprisingly gentle and affectionate, as if he didn’t just change your fucking life with his tongue.

“I should get you a towel or something,” you say as you pull away.

Aizawa snorts, his grip on you only tightening. You try to imagine the look on his face. Maybe he’s licking the ridge of his teeth, maybe he’s glowering. Maybe he’s smiling, looking down at you with that almost loving affection. “You don’t think we’re done, do you?”

Uh oh.

In the dark, he pushes you backward, both of you blindly bumping into walls and the edge of the tv stand. Each bump and bruise steal a giggle out of you and him, but the laughter does nothing to diffuse the want you feel emanating from his touch. Eventually, the back of your legs hits the soft down of the bed and you pause, trying to hold him a bit farther away and failing. You had forgotten that he’s still fully dressed; his belt buckle is frigid against your skin.

“Shouta, my legs are shaking.” Your hands find the bottom of his shirt, fumbling with the edge. Maybe you can distract him, give yourself time to recover. “I can’t take anymore.”

Shouta is mirroring your motions, running his fingers across the soft of your stomach. The touch makes you feel shy and you wiggle away from the touch. Technically, he’s seen you completely naked, but touching feels like a deeper sense of knowledge, especially in the dark.

“Two orgasms?” He squeezes your side again. “That’s really all it takes?”

“Three…” you remind.

“Two.” He’s firm. “The second one doesn’t count.”

The air conditioning rushes back on and you nearly shiver. The heat of your orgasm still warms your cheeks, but you’re still naked, still exposed. “Why not?”

“Wasn’t big enough.”

“Felt big.”

He clicks his tongue against his teeth. “You poor, neglected thing.”

Hands find your shoulders and push, knocking you back on to the mattress with an ‘oof’. The bed shifts under his weight and you can feel him there, hovering over you in the dark, just a breath away. All you can do is lay there and try to make out the shapes of him. The red glow of the alarm clock catches his eye and you suddenly know he’s watching you, probably searching for your way in the same way.

“What-?” you breathe. “What are you gonna do with me?”

You don’t know what you want the answer to be, but you aren’t expecting a chuckle.

“I’m going to do-” Shouta breathes, deep and dark and hungry, closer to a growl than a whisper. “Whatever I want.”

412 notes · View notes

ayyy-pee · 6 months ago

Text

Discord 18+ - Bluesky - Part One of WANTED Series - WANTED Masterlist

Pairing: Ex-Outlaw Toji Fushiguro x Outlaw Reader

WC: 8.7k

Summary: Shit luck. That's the unfortunate reputation branded to ex-outlaw Toji Fushiguro. That is, until tonight, when a reunion with an "old friend" turns his luck on its head.

Story Warning: Bar Fight, Gambling, Cheating (at gambling lmao), Violence and Blood and Broken Bones, Implied Rough Sex, Rough Oral Sex (M. Receiving), Implied Ass play, Misogyny, Protective Toji, Marking, Profanity, Smut obviously, Outlaw pt.1 references, No Y/N usage here

Art by: shesdeny on X

A/N: I had Backroads by Tanner Adell on repeat the entire time I wrote this ON REPEAT. I didn't proofread i'm so tired yall

Word on the prairie is there’s been one hell of a train heist.

It’s the talk of the town right now, and Toji’s soaking up every word of it as he sits at the parlor poker table.

One man places a card down on the table, taking a drag of his cigar. “I heard they cleaned the locomode right out. Not even a silver spoon left at the scene.”

‘Thorough,’ Toji thinks.

Another slides his chips into the center, where the dealer takes them. “Yup, heard that, too. An’ I heard it was a broad that did it.”

This piques Toji’s interest. He slides more chips forward, taps the table to check, letting them know he’s not adding any more money to this pot. Not that he has anymore to offer. He’s really hoping the shit luck he’s been having lately turns tonight.

“A broad?” The cigar smoker asks, thick smoke falling from his lips. “Can’t imagine a woman bein’ able to pull that off.”

At this, Toji snorts under his breath. These men don’t know what a determined and smart woman is capable of. But he does.

Another man laughs hard, tapping his fists on the table. “Thought so, too, but they caught a outlaw at the scene, too.” He tries to catch his breath, chuckling when he describes the scene. Apparently, the poor sucker was picked up from the train car with his hair knotted around the seat bar and his dick out for everyone to see. This makes Toji shake his head, amused, because he has a strong feeling he knows exactly who could have pulled something like that off.

A clean sweep? Leaving the other party humiliated just because they can? Toji’s fairly certain about who the culprit is for this one.

“But they say the outlaw escaped on the way to hoosegow,” notes the man. “Ain’t been able to find him. Probably gonna kill the broad when he finds her.”

Toji shakes his head, the slightest smirk sitting on his lips. That tracks. Leaving the scene with enemies left behind in embarrassing situations? Yeah, he knows exactly who pulled this heist off.

The men go on and on about the heist and the rumors circulating around the town. To everyone else, it all seems impractical. How could some woman possibly have the wits and the courage to be able to face off with one notorious outlaw and come out on top both literally and figuratively?

Toji only knows one woman capable of achieving such a feat — you.

You’re the one who got—

“You in or you out, Fushiguro?” The dealer calls impatiently. “Hurry up.”

Toji checks the spread across the table, what’s laid out to determine if he’s going to stay in the game or not. And as his eyes flit across the cards, he kisses his teeth.

He lost, as usual.

”I’m out,” he grunts, standing from his seat. “Gonna take a piss.”

The streets are alive with activity. Brothel girls stand on the porches of their building, batting their lashes and waving their handkerchiefs in an attempt to lure each and every man inside. They call out to Toji, blow him kisses and offer him the “night of his life” while waving their fingers flirtily in his direction. Toji ignores their advances, not in the mood after taking yet another hit to his already dwindling funds.

This streak of bad luck has been following him all his life. Small inconveniences, minor problems that have built up and taken a toll on him over time. It seemed as if being an outlaw was the only thing he was good at, though he wouldn’t call himself one now. He’s not sure why he ever thought hanging up his hat as an outlaw and taking up gambling would change his luck. He’s never won, not once. But he can’t seem to stop himself from putting it all on the line in hopes that he’ll hit big, just one time. So far, no luck.

Toji strolls into the back alley of the parlor, nose wrinkling at the rancid smell of sweat and piss that fills the area. He finds what he thinks might be a cleaner spot than the rest of the alley and pulls his pants to his knees, grabbing hold of himself just before he begins to relieve himself.

The sharp sounds emanating from the piano keys throughout the many saloons can be heard and Toji finds himself tilting his head back and staring up at the night sky, letting a little tune fall from his lips in a whistle. It’s when he’s shaking the remnants of his bathroom break off that he feels the cold press of metal against the back of his head, effectively cutting his whistling short.

Shit.

Just his luck. Of course he’d go out to relieve himself and end up with a damn gun to his skull.

“Ya know what they say ‘bout whistlin’ at night, don’t ya?” A familiar sweet voice sings behind him. “Brings bad luck.”

Toji chuckles, shaking his head - and the extra piss - off. “That’s a cowboy’s belief,” he remarks. He pulls his pants back up, securing them around his waist. “And I ain’t one.”

The stranger hums, the pressure of the gun easing just slightly, but it’s enough for Toji and he takes this moment to spin around swiftly. His large hand catches the weapon in his palm and he yanks forward, pulling its wielder with it. He holds the barrel of the gun against the center of his forehead, a sick grin sitting on his lips.

“Just kill me if you’re gonna do it. But just know…I ain’t got shit for ya to take.” In the dim lighting of the alleyway, Toji can just make out the way this person stares up at him through hooded eyes, teeth digging into their bottom lip as they have this short standoff with him. Then they sigh, unceremoniously lifting their skirt and holstering their weapon between their thighs.

“I see shit ain’t changed since the last time I saw ya, Toji.”

Toji only shrugs, a lopsided grin on his face. “Creature of habit, I guess.”

And there’s that laugh he hasn’t heard in some time. One that he won’t admit he’s missed because it reminds him of a different time in his life. One that he also won’t admit that he’s missed.

Standing before him is the earlier topic of discussion amongst the men inside. You’ve got your hands on your hips, dressed in the pretty little get up you usually wear when you’re up to no good, and Toji knows you’re about to have one hell of a night. And he has a feeling that you’re going to be dragging him into whatever plot you’ve cooked up.

He takes in your appearance, the fancy new gun you tucked away and a very nice hat that probably sells for a hefty price.

Toji motions to your new possessions. “Keepsakes from your last job? Heard it was a damn good ride.”

You lift a hand, running your fingers along the brim of your hat, giggling as you play dumb. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

He knows better than to pry, at least not in the open where just anybody can hear. So instead he tells you, “You look pretty tonight,” and basks in the smile you give him. Soft and genuine, but only for a second before you’ve shifted into the little facade you put on.

“D’ya wanna show me ‘round here?” You ask sweetly, looping your arm through Toji’s and tugging him along.

Toji slips his hands into his pockets. Truth be told, he hasn’t been in this town long, just arrived a couple days ago when he heard there was easy money to make at the parlors. But he hasn’t found that to be true. He was actually planning on heading out soon anyway. “Not much goin’ on in this town ‘round this time of night. Same ol’ gamblin’, drinkin’, fuckin’ and fightin’ that happens in all the others.”

“Hmm,” you nod, peering up at Toji with the false innocence he’s familiar with. “And what about you?” You’ve switched on your proper speech as well, Toji notes, but he doesn’t miss the suggestive tone behind your words when you ask, “Which one are you gettin’ into tonight?”

He wants to tell you that he’ll be in whatever shitshow you start, just how he always is when you two run into each other in whatever middle of nowhere town you end up in. But instead he just smirks as he leans down to your ear where he whispers, “Let's see how the night goes.”

You’re careful to make sure there are no watchful eyes when you both emerge from the alley arm in arm. Toji leads you back towards the parlor, not missing the salacious looks you’re getting from the other men and cowboys while he holds onto you. And you, ever the actress, offer a demure smile and nod to each and every one of them that has them melting beneath your gaze.

And it’s a ridiculous thing, really, how Toji also finds himself melting for you. Although it’s for different reasons. You can offer all the innocent and pretty smiles you want. It may fool the average man, but it’s never fooled Toji. You two are cut from the same cloth, and that’s what brought you two together in the first place all those years ago.

You’re a beautiful woman, of course. A perfect face with a perfect body to match, filling that outfit of yours just the way Toji has always liked. But it’s your mind that draws Toji to you. Your ability to easily cook up a scheme that you rarely fail to pull off. The way you can slip on a manipulative mask like the one you’re wearing now and wrap anyone around your finger. How you can lure people into your traps and get anything you want. Any time he’s in your presence, Toji’s convinced that he’s sick in the head, because he can’t fucking get enough of watching you conspire against whatever poor person you’ve deemed your target.

It brings him back to his outlaw days, when he’d met you mid-scheme and almost threw a wrench in your plans. But somehow, it ended with you two teaming up to pull off one hell of a heist. And the aftermath? Well, let's just say you left Toji more than satisfied with the outcome.

When you two enter the parlor, it seems the gambling table has changed as well as the dealer, Toji notices. You both observe the dealer, placing three cards face down on the table. He shows one card - the 4 of diamonds - to the players around the table before setting it down and wildly shuffling them. When he’s finished and all three cards lie in a line on the table, one of the men selects a card, and they all erupt in a string of curses when it’s wrong.

Beside Toji, you scoff. “This’ll be a easy night, looks like.” You glance up at him, a teasing smirk on your lips. “Please don’t tell me ya lost all your money gamblin’ on goddamn Three-Card Monte,” you murmur just loud enough for Toji to hear. “All ya gotta do is find the damn card.”

“Can’t lose what I ain’t got,” Toji chuckles. “Come on.”

Of course you’d enjoy this game, he thinks. Three-Card Monte, or Find the Lady. It’s a card game in which the marks, or the players, are tricked into thinking they can find the “money card” among three face-down cards. It seems so simple, but if the dealer is anyone worth his salt, it’s easy to fuck the players over. Make them think they have a chance, so they just keep betting until they’ve got nothing left to lose.

But of course, you’re a step ahead. This dealer thinks he’ll be playing you, when it’s really the other way around.

“Ya ready?” You question. “Let's make it quick.”

Sounds like Toji doesn’t have a choice. Looks like he’s pulling off a heist tonight. His ex-outlaw heart sings.

He approaches the table with you on his arm just as two men free up seats for you when they opt out of playing any further. You take a seat beside Toji, carefully adjusting your skirt, removing your hat and setting it in your lap. The dealer eyes you, he eyes your bosom unabashedly, grinning when you tilt your head and fix him with a curious look.

“Good evening, sir,” you speak softly and Toji watches you work your magic. “What are we playing tonight?”

The dealer chuckles, shuffling his cards in his hands. “We are playin’ Three-Card Monte, pretty darlin’.” He leans forward, the thick and nasty stench of his cigar breath making Toji’s nostrils burn. “I’d explain how to play it to ya, but I don’t know if you’ll be able to keep up with the rules. This fine gentleman here, however,” he turns his attention to Toji. “Would you like to buy in, sir?”

Toji’s gaze cuts to you. If the dealer’s statements bother you, it doesn’t show. Your smile doesn’t falter in the least. “You’re so considerate.” Your voice is soft and sweet, but Toji hears the bitterness behind your words. “I’m so fortunate my darlin’ husband here…” you reach over and caress Toji’s arm, nails dragging along his skin in a way you know will leave goosebumps in their wake. “...He took pity on poor lil’ me and taught me to play. Right, dear?”

You beam up at Toji, all soft and loving, and he wants to laugh to cover up the way his heart races – one, because you’ve referred to him as your husband which he’s embarrassed to admit doesn’t sound too bad. Two, because you involving him in your little game tonight excites him in more ways than one. He hasn’t felt the thrill of pulling off a heist in some time, his luck almost never panning out the way he wants. But now that he’s run into you, he’s sure it’s going to take a turn for him.

“Yep,” he affirms. “And I’ll teach ya whatever else your lil’ heart wants, angel.” Toji grins, enjoying the way your brows rise just barely at the pet name, some emotion he can’t place behind your eyes. He can’t dwell too long because he’s eyeing the dealer, whose gaze is glued to your breasts again. Toji roughly clears his throat, grabbing the man’s attention. “She’ll buy in.”

“If ya say so.” Of course the dealer isn’t going to argue. You’re what he thinks is the easiest mark of his night.

The first game goes exactly how Toji imagined you’d have it play out. The dealer tells you he’ll be generous and do a practice round for you so that you can “wrap your pretty head around the rules”, and you agree. You of course don’t find the card, or so the dealer is made to believe. But you enthusiastically agree to an actual game.

The first real game, you bet low, telling the dealer that you’re just too nervous to bet too much money, and you’re not sure if your dear husband would approve.

“Put down as much as ya like, angel,” Toji pushes eagerly, earning him a quick scowl from you, covered by a sweet giggle.

“Do you want me to lose all of our money, dear?” You ask, the real question hardly concealed beneath your words.

It’s not your money to bet, so shut the fuck up.

Your foot connects with Toji’s leg beneath the table, just to drive the message home. Toji grunts, covering the pain with a clearing of his throat.

The dealer places the cards face down on the table, then picks the one on your left up. He shows it to you – the Queen of Hearts.

Fitting, Toji thinks, what with the way the dealer winks at you before he shuffles the cards around quickly then settles them into position. A cocky smile spreads across the dealer's face. He knows where the card is. And knowing you, you probably do, too.

So Toji sits back and lets you play cards while playing dumb in the dealer's face.

You lose this round, and he can tell it’s on purpose this time, pouting cutely and making the dealer blush a deep red as he shakes his head. “Chin up, darlin’. Why don’t ya place another bet. See if your luck changes.”

“I think I will,” you declare, nodding.

You place the same small bet and let the dealer do his job. When the cards are settled, you tap your index finger on your chin, pretending to think really hard about it. Then, in feigned hesitation, you select a card. Toji watches proudly, relishing the way the dealer’s eyes widen when he lifts the card and turns it in your direction.

“Oh! I won!” You grab hold of Toji’s arm, your mouth slightly agape as you motion for him to look.

“Look at you,” he purrs, taking hold of your hand. He lifts it to his lips, turning it slightly to press a kiss to your wrist, right where your pulse lies, grinning when you inhale sharply. “Knew ya could do it, angel.”

Your teeth press into your lip, a shy look on your face now. Only for a moment, then you’re shaking it off as you turn back to the dealer. “I’d like to bet more, please.”

He deals you in again, a slight look of displeasure on his face when you somehow end up winning once more. And then you win again, and again. The dealer’s fingers drum rhythmically against the table in annoyance, eyeing you suspiciously.

Now, Toji gambles, but he doesn’t gamble the way you do. His days as an outlaw involved doing anything that involved brute force. He was good at that. Need someone manhandled? You pay the right price and he’ll take the job. Got a bounty out on someone’s head? Dangle a bag of money in Toji’s face and he’ll do it. But when he left his outlaw days behind, and fell into a habit of placing bets he couldn’t make good on, he quickly figured out that all the sneaky counting cards and sleight of hand shit was beyond him. He did, however, pick up on a few things.

Like now, when he notices two random men have joined either side of you and Toji to play the game. They’re obviously shills, there to try and assist the dealer in trying to cheat you out of your winnings. The shill beside Toji places his bet, the dealer shuffling the cards quickly to confuse him. He loses, pretending to be upset when the dealer moves onto you.

You place your bet - a large sum, larger than any you’ve put in tonight and Toji’s brows rise.

“You sure about that, sweetheart?”

It’s your money, sure, but you must feel pretty confident in your ability to win if you’re willing to put so much on the line.

You nod, lips curling in a smile while you watch the dealer shuffle. “Yes, dear. I think this will be my best round yet. I just know I’ll have fun with this one!”

There’s something about that sentence that puts Toji on edge. Especially when the other man on your side leans over, engaging you in conversation while the dealer shows you the target card – the King of Diamonds. It’s a ploy to distract you, even Toji knows that. They want you to take your gaze off of the cards so that you can’t keep track of where the target is. But you stay focused even as you entertain the man, nodding along to the conversation as you pay attention to the way the cards are moved around.

It feels like forever before the dealer stops and sets the cards down. He waves his hand over them, waiting for you to pick.

You think hard, seriously this time. Toji watches the way the dealer eyes you, sweat beading along his forehead. Likely from nerves, because you’ve been sweeping the floor with him for the last few rounds and he’s sure he doesn’t want to lose more money. If you lost this large bet, you could walk away clean and go on with your night. Toji doubts it’d put a dent in your pocket. With all the heists you’ve pulled off, especially your most recent, he’s pretty sure you’re set for quite a while.

But your eyes meet the dealers, your hand floating back and forth above the cards before coming down to point to a card and the dealer makes a noise that sounds something like a mixture of a scoff and chuckle. There’s certainty in his expression as his fingers flip the card over, shaking his head.

“Sorry, Miss. Looks like you’ll have to –” he swallows his words when he sees the King of Diamonds sitting beneath his fingertips. “H-how?!”

You bat your lashes innocently. “How what, sir?”

The dealer's hand slams down hard on the table, shaking the winning bets and silencing the parlor. The pianist freezes on the keys, the bartenders stop making their drinks, the guests stop speaking, all heads turning to the table where you and Toji sit. The shills now stand, and Toji’s eyes track their movements. One directly behind you, the other to the side of him.

The dealer grits his teeth, face red with rage as he now screams. “You’re cheatin’!”

You gasp, hand coming to your chest to clutch your imaginary pearls. “I beg your pardon, sir!”

“Oh, shut your fuckin’ mouth! I know you’re cheatin’!”

“I-I’m just playin’ the game, sir.” You turn to Toji, mock concern on your face. “Right, dear? Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

And Toji nods, keeping the ruse going. “Of course, angel.” He sees the anger continue to rise for the dealer the more this drags on, his hands flexing into fists repeatedly. Does he plan to try and hit you? He hopes not, for his own sake. “That’s a serious accusation,” Toji tells the dealer. “You’d better have good proof of my wife cheatin’. You know cheatin’ at cards means hangin’ in the town square.”

“Ya want proof? Look!” The dealer flips all three cards laid out on the table, and there lies the evidence with only one Three of Clovers lying there, and two Kings of Diamonds in the spread. “See?! I knew somethin’ wasn’t right with this broad! Ain’t nobody ever won Three-Card Monte this many times when I’m dealin’ the cards! You’re slippin’ cards onto the table!”

So he’s a cheat, too. Toji should’ve called that. There’s hardly a noble and honest person working in these establishments. Even still, it boils his blood for some reason.

It may be the fact that Toji has lost most of his savings in this very building tonight, or it may be the way this slimeball has been eyeing you up and down all night trying to see how many times, how many ways and probably in how many positions he could take advantage of you, or the fact that he’s now speaking to you like tar stuck to the bottom of his shoe. Regardless, he’s getting pissed.

Toji’s gaze catches yours briefly, and you purse your lips together. He can see the wheels turning, trying to think of an excuse as to how this could happen. Everyone in the building is holding their breath, and more staff have gathered around to see what the commotion is. Toji counts about three more men around you that he believes may be with the dealer. Jaw tight, he waits for your next move.

You giggle, shaking your head as you sit your hat back atop your head, and Toji watches your mask slip off in real time. “Can’t believe this shit,” you sigh. “This damn shill,” you gesture to the man standing behind you. “He’s good.” The dealer sees your change, too, finger jutting out to point straight at you.

“I-I know you! You’re that outlaw bitch! The one that’s wanted all over for cheatin’ at cards, murder, breakin’ out of jail, and–”

“Aww, the train robbery ain’t at the top of the list yet?” You interrupt, leaning back in your seat with a pout. “Feel like that’s my best work.” You grab hold of the dealer’s finger - swift and easy, bending it back roughly, the man screaming out in pain and doubling over onto the table. “Ya got me,” you whisper teasingly in his ear. “Gimme my earnin’s and I’ll just be on my merry way. No need to cause a ruckus.”

“You fuckin’ whore, I’ll-” The man winces, crying out when you bend his finger further.

“I’d think real careful ‘bout your next words if you don’t wanna lose a finger.”

“Okay! O-okay!” The dealer concedes. “Just take it ‘nd get the fuck out of here!”

Toji can’t help but watch in awe…and arousal…witnessing you in your natural element again. You’re wild, impulsive, insane. So much so, you’ve got everyone else in this parlor frozen in shock as you pocket your winnings. They can’t seem to wrap their heads around a woman being so outwardly bold to commit a crime out in the open, and proudly, the way you are. It’s admirable; it reminds Toji of when he was at his best as an outlaw, maybe better.

You glance at Toji, tilting your head towards the money and he snaps out of his reverie and begins to move, pocketing what he can, too.

“Keep whatever ya grab,” you offer, and Toji grins. His adrenaline is pumping, heart pounding behind his ribcage as he grabs all he’s able to. This is a feeling he hasn’t experienced in so long. The feeling of winning. He doesn’t ever want to come down from this high.

When your pockets are full, tied tightly and secured, you finally release the dealer who whimpers as he holds his finger to his chest. He looks about ready to rip your head off, but his eyes dart to Toji who looms over him, daring him to say something and the dealer thinks better of it.

Now all that’s left to do is leave this place quickly and quietly. Maybe grab something to eat and find some place to sleep.

You tip your hat, and just as you turn to leave, the dealer reaches over the table and grabs hold of your dress sleeve. He yanks you forward harshly, dragging you across the table.

“I’ll kill ya, bitch!” He raises his fist and you laugh, covering your face with your arms, anticipating the hit.

You wait for him to make contact, but the hit never comes. You only hear the sickening crack of bone meeting bone, and then you’re falling hard onto the floorboards a second later. Women gasp and race out of the establishment along with some men, but the remaining people step back to take in the scene. Peeking through your arms, you see Toji’s large body standing over the unconscious and bleeding dealer.

You scramble to your feet and dart over to Toji. His eyes are hard, jaw clenched as he stares down at the man. “Toji,” you whisper, shocked yourself at what he’s done.

“He should watch his fuckin’ mouth when he speaks to ya,” he grunts, and you can’t help but erupt into laughter. And you laugh hard, until you’re doubled over and holding your stomach.

You lean against Toji’s arm, grinning as you nudge him. “You soft for me or somethin’?”

The question doesn’t even register to Toji, because in that moment, one of the shills finally finds his courage again, rushing towards you and Toji with a beer bottle in hand. “You son of a bitch!” He shouts, charging at Toji, but you’re quick to grab hold of a chair, using all your strength and swinging the piece of furniture at the man. You miss, but it buys Toji enough time to grab a chair of his own and launch it across the parlor, slamming into the back of another man at the bar.

He spins around, face contorted in rage, barking out, “who the fuck threw that?!”

You point to the shill, who points to Toji, who points to himself.

The stranger looks confused, but still furious. And he rushes towards you all, elbowing his way through the crowd as he barrels forward. He shoves several men around, all of whom are too drunk off their asses to realize what’s going on. They only know it’s getting rough here and they need to defend themselves. It only takes one drunk bastard to throw the first punch, and then it’s all out chaos. Arms are being thrown, furniture is flying, the floors are slippery with the mixture of alcohol and blood.

Toji ducks, avoiding a stray punch aimed at him, only to receive a shove in the back. He spins around, catching a man by his collar and easily tossing him aside and knocking the lights out of another man who lunges at him. It’s complete insanity here, so loud and chaotic and in the midst of it all…he finds himself having a good fucking time. This is fun for him. His fist meets the stomach of one man and his heart soars. A knee to the face of another man and his lips spread in a wide grin. His palm comes down to slam someone’s head against the table, rendering them unconscious and Toji chuckles.

Even with the cacophony of punching and screaming and cursing, Toji can hear your wild laughter floating throughout the space.

You’re going toe to toe with grown men, using whatever weapon you can get your hands on and it’s not even about defending yourself anymore. You’re simply enjoying the frenzy. You don’t care if the sheriffs show up, if they put cuffs on you and throw you in the slammer. You’re used to that. You don’t care if your involvement here means a death sentence. Why would you when you’ve been sentenced to death in multiple towns across the prairie and have managed to escape every attempt to put you down?

Toji admires that about you, admires that you don’t give two shits. You’re only interested in doing what you love and if lying and cheating and violence is what you love, then hell, he loves it, too. So Toji lets himself have fun with you.

He throws another punch, relishing the disgusting sound of a nose bone being crushed beneath his fist.

He erupts with laughter when he wraps one of his large arms around a man’s neck and he squeezes until Toji feels him fall limp to the floor.

He lifts a leg, smirking when his foot connects dead center in the chest of a man wielding a blade and sends him flying across the room.

Then in the chaos, his back connects with yours and you both swing around, ready to take out the next person. But it’s just you. You, and your jagged whiskey bottle that you’ve busted over someone’s head and hold out defensively in front of you. The poor victim of the impact lays unconscious at your feet.

Toji takes these few seconds to drink you in, the way the shy and innocent mask you had on upon entry to the parlor is long gone, leaving behind the wild outlaw he’s come to know over the years. He takes in the way your chest heaves, breasts barely contained within the confines of your corset. How you’re covered in blood and grime that he’s certain isn’t yours.

The violence and commotion behind you makes for quite the backdrop to this image he’s committing to his memory. He’s never seen a woman so beautiful.

Your lips part just slightly and Toji’s eyes dart down to the movement. You drop the liquor bottle, not caring that it knocks against the unconscious man on the floor’s head and shatters next to him. Your feet move, carrying you over to Toji until he’s just within arms reach. You’re giving him that same look you had in the alley just earlier, chewing your lip and looking like you want to eat him alive.

And he’ll let you.

Because the feeling is definitely mutual, evidence of his desire only growing in his pants. He shouldn’t be surprised that this is where the night is heading, as it’s led to this many times. But something about tonight has Toji particularly excited. So, he reaches a hand forward, hooking his fingers in the front of your corset and yanks you forward. You throw your arms around his neck, and your lips meet in a sloppy kiss, full of tongue and teeth and groans. His hands palm your ass, lifting you easily and you wrap your legs around his waist. Toji presses your core against him, at the same time he feels your holstered gun press into his side and it only makes him harder. He moves your body, dragging your center along his hardening length.

“Where’re ya stayin’?” You gasp into the kiss, and Toji steps to the side just in time for a bottle to whizz past your heads.

“Brothel up the street,” Toji groans when you dip your head low to drag your lips along his neck. You break away to stare down at him, only smirking in response.

Yes, this night is headed exactly where he thought it would.

Your back hits the wall hard, knocking the wind out of you and sending a painting that hangs on the wall to its demise as it falls to the floor and shatters to pieces. You barely have time to catch your breath after Toji has broken away from your nipples, courtesy of him freeing them from your corset halfway up the stairs to his room.

“Fuck, ya always feel so good,” Toji lets out of a garbled moan, his lips finding your neck as you grip his hair.

“Thinkin’ about me a lot, huh? So, ya are soft for me?” You ask, a giggle falling from your lips, only to be cut off when Toji presses his thick length to your core. “Ah– fuck, Toji,” you cry out. You moan when he sucks hard.

He’ll surely leave a mark, and some part of Toji finds that he likes the idea of you strolling around with the brand he’d left on you on display for all to see. He wants men to see you, see you’ve been marked up by someone else and wonder who you go home to at night. Even if it’s not Toji, at least it was him who made it crystal clear that you laid with someone who wasn’t them the night before.

He loves the idea that he gets to have you, because you choose to let him have you. It’s not a part of some scheme you’ve come up with, you don’t have some ulterior motive. You don’t want anything but to get your fill for the night, and you want to get your fill from him. You want him to have you, and the thought has him grinding his clothed erection against you in a desperate attempt to gain some friction between the two of you.

You tug at Toji’s strands, moaning at the way he ruts against you, how his tongue slides smoothly across your pulse. “Shitttt, don’t hold back,” you gasp, and Toji can’t help but chuckle.

“When have I ever, angel?”

The pet name has you looking at Toji the way you had earlier. A flash of something unfamiliar behind your gaze, gone as quickly as it appeared and your hands crash down on Toji’s chest, shoving him back. He sets you down and you shake your head, wasting no time in falling to your knees without him having to say so. He watches you lift your skirt, unholstering your gun and carelessly tossing it aside. Then you undo his pants, pull the fabric down until his clothing sits in a pool at his ankles.

Your hands wrap around his cock, thick and veiny and pump him slowly. Toji grunts, placing his palms against the wall as he enjoys the view of you kissing the underside of his dick.

“Like that, angel,” he sighs when you run your tongue over the fat vein that runs all the way from his balls to his tip. “Fuuuck…”

Your tongue reaches his head, where a bead of precum sits and you lap it up greedily, grinning when Toji’s legs tremble just slightly. “Like this?” You ask, swirling your tongue around him slowly just before you take his entire length to the base.

Toji hisses, hips bucking forward on instinct. He grits his teeth, eyes rolling to the back of his head when you swallow around him. Your throat squeezes him deliciously and he can’t stop the pathetic groans falling from his lips. You bob around him, hollowing your cheeks as you suck and take all of him with every bob of your head.

When Toji’s cock nudges your throat and you gag around him, Toji hisses. “Yes, yes, stay there,” he grits out. You hum around him, eyes alight with mischief and Toji’s back stiffens. The vibration shoots straight through to his cock and Toji leans his forehead against the wall to keep from losing his balance at the sensation. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

Toji’s mouth parts slightly, a rough groan leaving his lips. You’re toying with him, the way you toy with everyone. You love this shit, love having whoever you set your sights on going crazy over you. You’ve got those cute lips of yours wrapped perfectly around his cock, working him closer to his release and you’re enjoying every second of bringing him to the edge. It doesn’t help when you hold eye contact with Toji while you take him in your mouth, all the way down until your nose is buried in his soft pubic hair while you lift your skirt and slip your hands into your undergarments.

Your brows knit together, moans muffled by Toji’s dick in your throat while you touch yourself. The image is so arousing, your lips stretched around him while your mouth is full. He can’t help but buck forward – once, twice, and then he’s fucking your mouth all on his own.

“Yessss, play with that pretty pussy for me,” Toji groans. He’s fucking your face at a frantic pace, and you’re taking every stroke he gives. “Ah, fuuuuck –” Toji pants, a hand coming down to hold the back of your head. He pushes your head down, forcing your throat open to take his entire swollen length down your throat, occasionally holding you there for a moment, loving the sound of you choking on his dick and your saliva more than any sound he’s ever heard you make. The mixture of your fluids drips messily down your chin, and still, Toji keeps fucking your face until you’re gagging and squeezing around him.

He pulls out, holding the base of his cock tightly. Because he’s watching you - mouth agape as you gasp for you, chin glistening and lips swollen with her hand in your pants. The sight is so sexy, so arousing, he thinks he could paint your face right this second.

You inhale sharply, swallowing as much air as you can. Your fingers tease at your clit, dipping inside your walls just briefly before your breath hitches and you whimper a pathetic challenge. “Don’t tell me you’re done already.”

And Toji grins, easily shoving himself back into your mouth. He’s even rougher with you if possible, and you seem to love it that way, keening around him as your fingers rub tight circles on your clit. He pulls away from you once, brows pulled together as he tries to catch his breath while he makes you take him down to the hilt over and over again. “Fuckin’ hell, angel. Takin’ my dick so good for me. Your throat feels so fuckin’ good. Don’t move–”

Toji scrambles forward, grunting and pressing his length all the way down your throat, so far, so desperate to feel you squeeze around him again that he’s got your head up against the wall. There’s nowhere for you to go as his hips buck forward.

“Fuckin’ take it, swallow my cock, fuck–”

Your hand finds his thigh, squeezing tight while the other works you closer and closer to your release. It feels way too good, better than any woman, any mouth Toji’s ever been in. His balls are tight, slapping loud and wet against your chin as he slams into your face.

He hears you, hears your moans as the rise in pitch, getting higher and higher with every thrust of his hips, every press of your fingers against yourself.

“Gonna cum, angel?”

You whimper in response, unable to nod or speak, while Toji’s got his dick stuffed into your throat.

“Cum for me, then. Make a mess on your fingers while I fuck your mouth,” he grunts, hips snapping forward.

Your eyes roll back, nostrils flaring as you dip your fingers into your core and feel your walls fluttering around them. Your release washes over you with such intensity, your legs begin to shake, tears begin forming at the corners of your eyes, drool falls in thick strings from your lips. And all the while, Toji is still fucking into your mouth.

The sight is one he wants to burn into his memory. You - the woman who just a few hours ago knocked men on their asses, cheated and won and still somehow escaped without punishment - now getting off on getting him off.

He’ll be sure to remember you on your knees for him, bringing yourself to ecstasy while your mouth is stuffed with his cock, tits bouncing with every thrust and –

Oh, he’s gonna cum.

Toji tells you as much, then moves to pull out, but you press your hands to the backs of his thighs and pull him back into your mouth, staring up at him as if begging for his cum.

And when you look at him like that, how could he ever say no?

He presses forward, mouth falling open with a loud and guttural moan as he finally reaches his peak. Toji’s body tenses, cock stiffening and thighs trembling as he twitches in your mouth. You hollow your cheeks, sucking him deeper if that’s even possible, and Toji’s moans only grow in volume. His cum shoots from his swollen tip, straight into your throat and you gag on the sheer amount of it.

“Fuckin’ swallow,” Toji growls, watching the way you struggle to handle all he’s giving you. “Don’t waste a fuckin’ drop. Swallow it for me, angel.”

And you do as you’re told, gulping down every thick rope of cum that paints your esophagus. When you finally release your hold on Toji, his cock softening between your lips, you gasp for air, coughing and sputtering while you wipe away the remnants of you and Toji’s deed.

“Almost killed me,” you jokingly complain, voice rough from the abuse your throat just took.

Toji chuckles, stepping back and taking your hands to help you stand. “Guess we’re even, then. I mean, ya almost got me killed tonight.”

You giggle and shake your head, pressing your palm to his chest, pushing Toji backwards until his knees hit the end of the bed and he falls back with a loud oof. You lift your skirt, climbing atop Toji and straddling his hips, and Toji would be lying if he said he wasn’t hard all over again.

“Hope ya ain’t got all that gettin’ even feelin’ out just yet, because I can think of plenty of times ya almost got me killed.” You lean forward, a hand on each side of Toji’s head and his hands find your breasts, still free from your corset. He cups both soft mounds, idly running his thumbs over your nipples and drinking in the expression you make when you moan without your mouth being stuffed full.

Toji grins, eyes honed in on the way your breasts feel in his hands. “Like the horse stealin’. That rancher almost blew your top off.”

Your lips spread with a smirk. “Well, if ya hadn’t been so fuckin’ loud when we were in the barn, he would’ve never woke up!”

Toji scoffs, “Well, ya snuck a finger in my ass! I ain’t ever had that happen! How the hell was I supposed to know it’d feel like that?!”

You both burst into a fit of laughter, reminiscing on all the crazy shit you two have gotten into over the years. You make Toji miss his outlaw days, almost make him want to go back to it. But that life’s not for him anymore. Though, it is fun to dabble in it from time to time, only with you.

Your lips find Toji’s, tender and sweet. Until - like all things you do - it’s not. It quickly turns heated, your hands dipping into Toji’s dark tresses while your lips lock in a searing kiss. You both make quick work of ridding each other of any clothing, hands roaming each other’s bodies once you’re bare.

It’s a fight for dominance in this bed. Who can kiss harder, who can leave more marks, who can pull the most moans from the other? The bed rocks with every movement, the headboard banging against the wall as Toji flips you over, pinning you to the bed with his body weight.

You hum, your hand ghosting across Toji’s muscular ass. “This looks familiar.” You take a finger along the seam of his behind and Toji inhales sharply. “Ah…by that ya meant…it felt good. Should I do it again?”

Toji’s head dips down, the tip of his nose touching yours as he breathes, “let's see where the night goes.” He slips inside of you, both of you moaning into each other’s mouths.

You move together, losing yourself in the passion of the night, disregarding the way the bed shakes.

And the way the photos and paintings fall from the walls.

And the way the headboard beats dents into the paint.

And the way the head mistress bangs on the door.

And -

The morning sun blazes high in the sky, shining through the thin curtains of Toji’s room. He stretches his noticeably sore body, yawning as he lets himself slowly wake up.

What a night - and morning. He knows he needs to hightail it out of town soon to keep from being identified as your accomplice at the parlor last night. He can’t sit around dawdling all day.

Toji sits up in his bed, already knowing it’s pointless to glance at the other side and wonder where you went. Of course, true to form, you’d made a smooth and quick exit. You’re probably long gone by now, wreaking havoc in another town. He tries not to take it personally that you likely didn’t even bother to say goodbye.

He slides off the bed, wincing when he feels a sharp sting of pain in his foot. He lifts his leg, pieces of wood falling to the floor where remnants of what appears to be a broken side table lie. His eyes scan the room, and the absolute mess all over. It looks like a damn tornado ripped through here.

Chairs thrown aside, a shattered mirror and pieces of glass all across the floor, broken art all over. He doesn’t remember you two being that rough with each other last night.

His stomach grumbles angrily, not allowing him to dwell on the mess he’s already planning on leaving behind. He searches his room for his discarded clothes, slipping on the items before he finds his bag. He’ll make a quick exit and slip out, hop on his horse and get the hell out of this town.

Toji’s not sure what he was expecting when he went to find his belongings. Maybe that you’d have taken them with you, just because it would have made you laugh to know you had your way with him then took all he owns. He certainly wasn’t expecting to find the fancy cowboy hat you wore last night sitting beside his bag, or to find a pouch of silver in his bag with a note inside. Toji unrolls the piece of paper, green eyes skimming the words.

“for the luck you keep sayin’ you ain’t got. hope that changes”

He shakes his head, a goofy smile on his face as he counts the money left for him. And it’s enough for him to get by for a while, enough for him to enjoy a bit of gambling, too.

Toji will have to thank you the next time he sees you. If you survive that long. But he doesn’t doubt that you will.

He slings his bag over his shoulder, exiting his room. He’s sure to close the door, hiding the horrendous disorder he’s leaving behind. Toji’s feet carry him down the stairs to the main floor of the brothel where it’s already bustling inside, people sitting down to enjoy breakfast. He’d have a seat, too, but he can’t risk sticking around in case someone recognizes him from the parlor. Or sees that damn room. As hungry as he is, he needs to go.

Toji maneuvers around those who stand around the room, idly chatting with each other. He’s about halfway across the room when someone calls out to him - a man’s voice. He could keep walking, ignore the man, but that would only make him look suspicious. It’s important for him to not draw attention. So Toji stops, spinning on his heel and coming face to face with the man calling out to him.

“Pardon me, sir. I’ve asked everybody in here, but no one knows a thing,” he explains as he approaches. He stops in his tracks, gaze locked on the top of Toji’s head. “Nice hat…” The man points towards the new item Toji wears.

“Thanks.”

The man stares for a few more seconds before he inhales sharply and continues. “I got word of a bar fight here last night…started by a woman.” The man reaches into his pocket, pulling out a sheet of paper and unfolding it. He holds the paper out to Toji, who just glares at it.

It’s you. Your face on a WANTED poster, beaming happily in your mugshot with the largest bounty he’s ever seen on your head.

Toji eyes the younger man - long, black hair, violet eyes and strangely stretched ears. He wonders why he’s asking about you. To collect the bounty? No, he doesn’t look the type.

“What about her?” Toji asks.

The man runs his fingers through his hair, sighing. “I’m lookin’ for her. Ran into her once and…” He sighs again, like it pains him to think about his run in with you. And Toji is sure it does. That’s typically how you leave men (and women) in your wake. Spiraling and chasing any trail you may leave behind. “I just need to find her.”

Toji adjusts the weight of his bag on his shoulder. “Ain’t seen her in my life,” he answers simply. He doesn’t wait for a response from the man. He turns, making his way out of the brothel before the stranger has a chance to follow.

The man stands there, unblinking as he watches Toji’s form retreat from the brothel. His violet eyes narrow, the rage he feels bubbling in his chest. He could act now, because he’s fairly certain that what he feels is correct.

Whatever happened last night, it involved you.

Whoever that scar lipped man is, he knows you.

He has his hat, the one you stole from him the last time he’d seen you.

But acting on his hunch would only bring unwanted attention. So he takes a deep breath, exhaling any anger he feels. After all, he’s positive that he’s one step closer to finding you again.

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blakeswritingimagines · 4 months ago

Text

Here For A Good Time

Summary: A birthday boy who lost a game but won a round.

Warnings: Birthday sex, Teasing, Riding, Mentions of reader being girlfriend but no real body mentions, Slight begging, Kissing, Mention of marking and biting, PWP, No protection, Mention of round 2.

Word Count: 3.1k

As Nico Hischier, captain of the New Jersey Devils, stepped onto the ice for his team's game against the San Jose Sharks on his birthday, he was filled with a mix of anticipation and excitement. He knew that his team was going to face a tough opponent, but he also knew that anything was possible on a special day like today. You were in the stands watching him play, cheering him on even though you were separated by distance. As the game went on, it quickly became apparent that the Sharks were dominating.

Nico nodded, grateful for your understanding and comforting presence. As you both walked out of the arena and towards the nearest bar, he realized that even though he hadn't won the game on his birthday, he was lucky to have someone like you by his side, willing to make sure that he still had a good night. "You know," he said as they settled down at a table in the bar, "I'm glad you're here with me. I don't know what I'd do without you." "Aw," you said, reaching over to squeeze his hand. "You'd manage. But I'm glad I can be here for you tonight." You lifted your glass, holding it out towards him. "To your birthday, even if the game didn't go the way you wanted it to." You spoke happily. "To my birthday," he echoed, clinking his glass against yours. "And to you, for being the best girlfriend a guy could ask for." As you sipped your drinks, the atmosphere between you loosened up a bit. By now, the earlier disappointment was already fading, replaced by the warm and fuzzy feeling of being in each other's company. "I have a surprise for you," you said suddenly, a mischievous gleam in your eyes. Nico cocked an eyebrow, intrigued. "A surprise? What kind of surprise?" "Well, win or lose, but since you didn't win the game tonight, I figured you deserved a little something special." You reached into your purse and pulled out a small, rectangular box, wrapped in silver wrapping paper. Nico's face lit up with curiosity as she slid the box across the table to him. "What is it?" he asked, picking it up and gently shaking it. "Open it and find out," you teased, watching him eagerly as he began to tear off the wrapping paper.

As the final buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the game, the Devils had unfortunately lost the match, with a final score of 2-3.

Nico's head hung low as he skated off the ice, clearly disappointed with the outcome. He had been hoping to win the game on his birthday, but unfortunately, it wasn't meant to be. As Nico emerged from the locker room, cleaned and dressed up after the game, he could see you waiting for him, a sympathetic look on your face. You knew how much he had been looking forward to the game, and you could tell that he was taking the loss hard. "Hey," you said softly, as he approached. "You okay?" Nico glanced up at you, his eyes still downcast. "I'm fine," he muttered. "Just…disappointed, I guess." You nodded softly. "I know," you replied, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "But it's just a game, you know. You did your best out there, and that's all that matters." You spoke with a smile up at him "I know," he said, nodding. "But it's my birthday. I was really hoping we could win tonight." You smiled sympathetically. "I know you were. But hey, we can still make the night special, right? We can still celebrate your birthday." You tried to lighten the mood. "Yeah," he said, a small smile finally appearing on his face. "Yeah, we can do that. I think I need a drink, though." "I figured you might," you said with a laugh. "Come on, let's head out to the bar and toast your birthday, even if it didn't go exactly how you wanted it to."

Nico peeled away the paper and opened the box to unveil its contents. Inside, nestled snugly in a bed of tissue paper, was a brand new watch, gleaming and sparkling in the dim light of the bar. "Wow," he breathed, picking up the watch and taking in its elegant design. "It's beautiful. But you didn't have to get me anything, you know." "I know," you said, smiling mischievously. "But I wanted to. Besides, it's not just any watch. It's a special watch with a secret surprise." Nico looked at the watch again, more closely this time. "A secret surprise?" he asked, turning it over in his hands. "What do you mean?" Playfully rolling your eyes as you spoke up. "Press the button on the side," you instructed, gesturing to the small, round button on the edge of the watch. Nico obeyed, pressing the button with his thumb. As he did, the face of the watch suddenly lit up, revealing a hidden digital display. On the display, the words "Happy Birthday Nico" appeared, spelled out in neon blue letters. Nico's mouth dropped open in surprise, his eyes wide with wonder. "Did you…?" he asked, looking up at you, incredulous. You grinned at him, clearly pleased with his reaction. "I know, I know, it's a little cheesy," you said, "But I thought it was pretty cool. And it's something you can wear all the time, to remind you of me and your special day…" Nico was speechless for a moment, his stunned expression slowly giving way to a soft smile of admiration. "It's amazing," he said finally, his voice thick with emotion. "I love it. And I love you." "I love you too, birthday boy," you replied, reaching out to take his hand. "And I'm glad I could make your night a little better, even if your team didn't win."

"You always make my nights better, even if we lose," he said, lifting your hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "I don't know what I'd do without you, honestly." "You'd be just fine, I'm sure," you teased, taking a sip of your drink. "But I don't ever want to find out, for the record. I like being your girlfriend too much." Nico chuckled, feeling the tension and disappointment of the game slowly melt away. With her by his side, he felt invincible, like he could handle anything. "You're stuck with me, then," he said, squeezing her hand affectionately. Nico groaned as he collapsed onto the bed, still feeling the exhaustion from the game earlier in the night. "I can't believe I'm this tired," he mumbled, rolling onto his side to face you. You chuckled softly, rolling onto your side as well so that you were facing each other. "You played hard out there tonight," you said, tracing a lazy pattern on his bare chest with your fingers. "It's no wonder you're worn out." "Yeah, I guess so," he agreed, closing his eyes and savoring the feeling of your touch. "Still, I feel like I should be doing something to celebrate my birthday. Like, we should be out partying or something." You shook your head, smiling softly. "You've had enough for one day. You need to rest and recover. Besides," you added, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. "I have a little surprise for you, if you're up for it." That piqued his interest. His eyes flickered open and he looked at you with curiosity. "A surprise, hm? I thought the watch was my surprise." "Well, the watch was the first surprise," you said, continuing to trace patterns on his chest with your fingers. "But I have another one in mind for now." You leaned in closer, bringing your lips to his ear and whispering softly.

A shiver ran down Nico's spine as he felt your breath against his skin. "What kind of surprise?" he asked, his voice low and laced with anticipation. You pulled back slightly, a sly smile playing on your lips. "A very special kind of surprise," you murmured, your hand moving further down his chest, gently caressing the firm muscles underneath. Nico's breath hitched at the touch, his body already beginning to react to your touch. "You know you're driving me crazy, right?" he muttered, his voice rough with desire. "That's the idea," you teased, your hand still wandering over his body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. You leaned in to press a series of kisses along his jawline, nipping at his skin softly. Nico groaned, his head falling back against the pillows as he surrendered to the sensations your touch awakened in him. His hands came up to grip your hips, pulling you closer to him, a silent plea for more. You straddled his hips, grinding down against him as you continued to kiss and bite at his neck. Your hands roamed over his chest, fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, igniting a fire in his veins. "God, you're driving me insane," he breathed, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he lifted his hips to meet yours. The feel of your body grinding against his was driving him wild, and he could feel himself losing control. "That's the idea, birthday boy," you purred, moving your lips back to his ear. "Lose control for me. I like you like that." You nipped at the sensitive skin of his earlobe, eliciting a low moan from deep in his chest. Nico's mind was foggy with desire, his body responding to your every touch like a puppet on a string. Your words sent a jolt of electricity straight to his groin, and he could feel himself hardening against you. "You're killing me," he groaned, his hands roaming over your body, desperate to touch as much of you as possible. "But what a way to go, right?" you said, grinning as you felt the evidence of his arousal pressed against you. You moved down to his neck again, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin there, leaving behind a trail of love bites.

Nico's breathing became ragged, his body arching up off the bed as you continued to kiss, bite, and mark him. "I can't take much more," he gasped, his hands roaming up to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer. "Oh, I think you can handle a little more," you purred, pulling back to look at him. Your eyes were dark with desire, and you were clearly enjoying the power you held over him in this moment. Nico swallowed hard, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. "Don't tease me," he pleaded, his voice rough and strangled. "Please, I need you, I need you now…" Your eyes glinted as you looked down at him, taking in his disheveled appearance. "Oh, I see," you said, feigning innocence. "And what exactly do you need, hmm? Use your words, birthday boy." Nico groaned, his grip on your hips tightening. "You know exactly what I need," he said, his voice strained with desire. "You know what you're doing to me, and you're loving every second of it." "Maybe I am," you admitted, grinning as you watched him struggle to control himself. "But I like hearing you say it. I like watching you come undone at my touch." Nico's eyes locked with yours, his expression pleading. "You're going to be the death of me," he muttered. "But fine, I'll give you what you want. I need you, baby. I need you so badly it hurts. Now, please, no more teasing." You chuckled softly, your eyes softening at his admissions. "There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" you said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips. "And since you asked so nicely, I suppose I can give you what you want…" You shifted, positioning yourself over him, your breath mingling with his as you spoke against his lips. "Anything to make your birthday extra special," you murmured, leaning down to capture his mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. Nico's hands came up to frame your face, his fingers tangling in your hair as he returned the kiss desperately. His body was taut with anticipation, every nerve ending alive with electricity as he waited for you to make your next move.

You pulled back just enough to nip at his lower lip, before moving downwards to his neck, leaving a trail of kisses down his chest. Your hands roamed over his body, fingers dancing over his sensitive spots, causing him to shiver and buck beneath you. Nico's breath was coming in ragged gasps as you continued your ministrations, his body arching up off the bed to meet your touch. "God, you feel so good," he groaned, his hands gripping the sheets tightly. "Please, baby, don't make me wait any longer…" You leaned down to press a kiss to his hip bone, grinning at the way he shuddered beneath you. "Patience, birthday boy," you teased, looking up at him through your lashes. "I'm just getting started." Nico let out a guttural moan, his head falling back against the pillows. He was coming undone beneath your touch, his control slipping away with every kiss, every bite, every caress. "I can't take much more," he pleaded, his voice hoarse with need. You reached down to guide him inside you, taking your time to savor the sensation of being filled by him. "Mmm, you're so big and hard for me already…" you begin to lower yourself down, inch by delicious inch, until you're fully seated on his lap. Starting to move, rolling your hips in a slow, sensual rhythm. "Like this, Nico? Is this what you wanted, baby?" Leaning forward to capture his lips in a deep, passionate kiss, moaning softly into his mouth as you kept up with the slow, passionate pace. Nico groaned, his hands roaming over your body as you moved above him, enveloping him in a wave of sensation. "God, yes," he gasped, his voice thick with desire. "You feel so good. So perfect." He captured your lips in a desperate kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as he eagerly returned the kiss. His hands moved to your hips, guiding your movements as you continued to rock against him, each shift of your hips sending waves of pleasure through his body. "Baby, you're so good," he breathed, his head falling back against the pillows.

You smiled at the compliment, your hands sliding up his chest to toy with his hair as you continued to move above him, the intensity of the sensations building between you both. "I could do this all night," you purred, nipping at his neck as you picked up the pace. Nico groaned, his hands gripping your hips tighter as the pace quickened. "Don't tempt me," he said, his voice gruff with need. "I won't last long if you keep doing that." You chuckled softly, biting down on his earlobe as you continued to move against him. "Oh, I think you can handle a little more," you whispered, increasing the pace even further. "You're going to drive me insane," he gasped, his hands gripping your hips so tightly it was almost painful. But he didn't care, his mind consumed by the overwhelming pleasure your movements were bringing him. "That's the idea," you repeated, grinning as you continued to grind down against him. You could feel the pressure building inside you, the sensations threatening to overtake you at any moment. Nico's breathing was ragged, his chest heaving as he fought to hold on. "Baby, I'm so close," he gasped, his eyes clenched shut as he struggled to control himself. You reached down to capture his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. "Let go, birthday boy," you whispered against his lips. "I've got you." That was all it took to push him over the edge. With a guttural moan, he surrendered to the pleasure, his body tensing up as he let go completely. "Baby, I'm coming," he gasped, his hands gripping your waist tightly. You watched with satisfaction as he came apart beneath you, the pleasure you had taken from him now mirrored in your own body. You slowed your movements, bringing him down from the high, your own breathing still coming in quick, shallow gasps. You leaned down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, your fingers gently brushing away the strands of hair that had stuck to his sweat-slicked skin. "You okay there, birthday boy?" you teased, a soft smile playing on your lips.

Nico chuckled weakly, his eyes fluttering open as he tried to catch his breath. "I don't know if I'm ever going to be okay again," he said, his voice rough with exertion. "You just blew my mind." You smiled, feeling a sense of triumph at his words. "Well, that was the idea," you said, gently untangling yourself from his embrace and crawling up to lie beside him. "But I hope I didn't overdo it." "No, no, it was perfect," he said, rolling onto his side to face you. "You're always perfect." He reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his eyes softening as he looked at you. You leaned into his touch, enjoying the feel of his fingers as they traced a path down your cheek. "You're pretty perfect yourself, you know," you said, smiling softly. "Happy birthday, Nico." He smiled, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Thank you, baby. For everything. For the watch, and for this." He gestured to the rumpled sheets and the aftermath of their passion. "Well, you deserve the best," you said, snuggling up against him and resting your head on his chest. "So I had to make sure your birthday was extra special this year." "Well, you definitely succeeded," he said, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer. "I don't think I've ever had a better birthday." He was silent for a moment, his fingers gently tracing along your spine. "Although, there is one thing that could make this night even better," he said, his voice low. "Oh yeah?" you asked, curiosity piqued. "And what's that?" He shifted, rolling over to pin you beneath him, his hands on either side of your head. A sly grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I can think of a few more ways to celebrate..." You gasped as he pinned you down, a shiver of anticipation running through you. "You're insatiable," you said, a playful smile playing on your lips. "But I'm not complaining." "I can't help it," he said, leaning down to trail kisses along your neck. "You just bring out the animal in me, baby." He began to move against you, his body already responding to your proximity. "And I'm not done with you yet…"

#nico hischier x reader #nico hischier #nico hischier x you #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier fic #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier smut #new jersey devils #nhl imagines #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl smut

378 notes · View notes

rafesslxt · 3 months ago

Text

unknown number

pt. 1/2

SUMMARY: not only you are surprised when you get a drunk text from your brother that you should pick him up from a party - Topper's just as shocked as you are.

WARNINGS: Thornton!reader, brothers best friend trope, bickering, tension, quick deep talk with Topper

WORD COUNT: 1,7k

NOTE: english is not my first language | thank‘s to everyone for reading and supporting, comments and - are highly apprecaiated <3

🥥 🍋‍🟩 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼 🥭 🍍

Your body tried to make its way through the sweaty crowd dancing and drinking around you, the air thick with the scent of weed and expensive perfume. This wasn't on your agenda for tonight, getting your drunk brother out of a party, that's for sure.

"Hey sis, can u get me? I'm drunk as hell."

You weren't surprised, though. After Sarah had ditched him for John B, which was more than understandable for you but hey – Topper never wanted to listen to your advice, he seemed to try drowning the pain and hurt ego away by drinking and smoking.

The house you currently were in was familiar to you. Since Sarah's your best friend you spend a lot of time here but never during these party's, cause most of the time Rafe was the host and well - let's just say you tried to avoid any chance of being in a room with him together.

Because besides the hatred for their sister's trying to live the pogue life, Topper and Rafe had one thing more in common. They fell for the sister of their best friend. The only problem was, that Rafe never acted on his feeling. While Topper may be a complete idiot, he at least showed Sarah some kind of feelings, trying to wrap her around his fingers. But for Rafe? Bickering and hating was his way.

But Rafe apparently had a new way of drawing you into his space.

"Hey, did you see Topper?" You asked a guy which's name you could never remember no matter how often your brother tried to tell you. You just knew he often hang with them together. "No, sorry. Ask Rafe, he was with him a while ago." You instantly rolled your eyes but smiled at him and nodded in a way that was supposed to tell him 'thank you'.

You made your way further through the people until you reached the living room where you saw Rafe sitting on the couch, talking to two girls on either side of him.

Not bothering that you may interrupted something, you walked up behind him, not even caring enough to wait until he might realize you were standing behind him. "Have you seen my brother? He told me to come pick him up."

You looked down at his head which bend until it laid against the backrest, his pretty blue eyes meeting yours. Pretty ? No, you meant blue. Just blue.

"Oh If it isn't the princess of the Pogues, gracing us with her presence this night.", his voice dripped with sarcasm. "And to what do we owe this unexpected visit?" You rolled your eyes at his irritating words and crossed your arms in front of your chest. "Did you see Topper, Rafe?", you repeated.

His smile widened before he sat upright again, took a beer that was probably his from the desk, turned around and locked eyes with you again, walking around the couch towards you.

"Someone's in a grumpy mood today." he remarked, taking a sip of his beer. "Rafe If you don't-" "No need to be so uptight princess. The party just stared." You scoffed. "Well, apparently not If my brother's texting me to come pick his drunk ass up."

"Give him some time, he's trying to heal from a heartbreak. I mean I told him my sister is never hanging around for long but- well you know him. Had to try for himself."

You were slowly getting tired of the conversation and Rafe seemed to notice. "And as for where your brother is; I saw him with Kelce in the kitchen a few minutes ago. Just before you arrived, I think."

Without giving him a second more of your time, you turned around, walking towards the kitchen. Why didn't he just tell you 'Hey, Topper is in the kitchen.' ? Why does he always have to bicker with you and beat around the bush. Ugh.

Sarah always said he liked you but before Rafe Cameron actually had serious feelings for you or even anyone, hell would freeze over.

You walked into the kitchen of the Cameron's, immediately spotting your brother and Kelce, laughing loudly between some shots they were taking.

"Wow. You're really setting the bar lower and lower." You scoffed, making their heads turn towards you. "Y/n? What are you doing here? Aren't you with your little friends?" "Oh, hey pipsqueak." Kelce chuckled from behind Topper, waving at you with a drunken grin.

"Come on Topper, I don't have all night." I sighed, already about to leave the kitchen when he looked at me as If I had torn apart his favorite teddy bear apart that he hid under his bed whenever someone came over. "What the hell are you talking about?" "What the hell do you mean what the hell I'm talking about? You texted me to come pick you up because you're too drunk."

Just as he was about to answer, Rafe entered the kitchen and stood beside you. "Topper, why don't you listen to your sister and go with her, you've had enough for tonight."

Feeling betrayed, Topper was too stunned to speak, looking at Kelce for some backup. "Hey man don't get me into this." he replied to his look, throwing up his hands and spilling some of the liquid that was inside his shot glass.

"I didn't text you!" he exclaimed, reached into his pocket and searching for his phone. "Shit.. can't find it." You rolled your eyes, your patience slowly but clearly wearing off. "Topper.." "I swear I didn't!", he swore while continuing to search the insides of his few pockets. "Damn no really, where is it?", he asked himself.

"Come on man." Kelce chuckled and threw an arm around his friend, slowly guiding him outside the kitchen and towards the front door where you parked your car.

You stepped aside to let them pass, your gaze landing on Rafe who was already looking at you, licking his bottom lip before speaking. "Here." He reached into his pocket and handed you Topper's phone. "What? Why do you have my brother's phone ?", you asked him, as It didn't hit you yet what was going in.

"Thought he might need someone to pick him up before he would be a complete mess.", he chuckled, shrugging his shoulders and looking away for a short moment.

Your eyebrows shot up as the realization finally hit you."You texted me to come pick him up? Why would you do that?" He chuckled and looked down at you. " Like I said; I was worried about my friend." "Bullshit.", you called him out right away. "If you were worried about him, you would have told me where he was instead of beating around the bush."

"Just wanted some conversation." he replied simply, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes while doing so, trying not to let him get under your skin. It would only please him.

"Good night, Rafe." you smiled at him before turning around and pushing through sweaty crowd again, reaching your car where Kelce and Topper were already waiting for you.

You pressed the little button on your car key, allowing them to get in while you were still a few meters away. Kelce jumped into the back seat, and Topper settled next to you in the front.

You slid behind the wheel and closed your door, glancing over your shoulder at Topper’s friend. “Should I drive you home too?” you asked, reaching for your seatbelt and securing it right after.

“Sure thing, pipsqueak,” he grinned, his eyes heavy and his body slumping down onto the back seat. You rolled your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time in the last thirty minutes and started the engine, pulling away from the property.

A few minutes into the drive, you looked over to your right. “You’re lucky. Mom and Dad aren’t home tonight,” you smirked slowly, trying to lighten the mood since he was still your annoying brother. Annoying, but family.

A scoff escaped his lips as he stared out the window. “As if they’re ever home.”

You sighed quietly, shrugging your shoulders. “Well, it’s still better than having to explain why you’re drunk and high.”

“They wouldn’t understand anyway. They never do. All they do is scream and complain. They don’t care.” He turned his head toward you, studying your face. “But honestly, I don’t know which one of us they’re more disappointed in,” he chuckled.

“Yeah… Mom’s worried I’m drinking myself into a coma, while Dad is worried you’ll run off with Maybank or some other pogue.” The car fell silent for a moment before you both erupted into unexpected laughter.

"Honestly, I don’t know which one is worse,” you giggled, gripping the wheel a little tighter as you turned onto your street. "Not sure who's setting the bar lower now, huh?" Topper smirked.

“I guess we should take him with us tonight before his parents have a heart attack,” you suggested, nodding toward Kelce, who was snoring in the back seat.

“Yeah…” he glanced at his friend and then back at you. “Thank you for picking me up, even though I didn’t text you. It’s good to know I can still count on you.” He smiled softly at you, placing his hand on your shoulder.

"No problem, Topper." you smiled back at him before turning off your car and finally parked in your garage. "Let‘s get him inside.", you grinned, eager to get out like Topper, when your phone suddenly vibrated in your purse.

Hm, probably the pogues asking If everything‘s alright after you left so quick with only telling them it‘s an 'family emergency'.

You opened your little white purse Sarah had given you on your last birthday and rummaged through it, fishing out your phone. You had a few messages from JJ and Sarah, asking you when - wait.

What was that? A message by an unknown number.

unknown number

i took the liberty of grabbing your number while I had the chance to.

was nice seeing you tonight, hot and bothered like always..

sweets dreams, angel.

xx rafe

That son of a - wait, why were you smiling together with your heart beating faster ?

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tags: @supernaturaldawning @cardibre91 @aegonsslxt @juliet-017

xoxo sarah <3

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe camaron fluff #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron blurb #drew starkey #drew starkey oneshot #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey x reader #outer banks oneshots #outer banks drabble

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