#brax wolff x reader

[darlingshane]

> BRAXTON WOLFF – Mad, Mad, Mad * – Big Bad Wolff (Brax x Marybeth) *

> DUNCAN CARMELLO – Let's pretend it's 1996

> GRIFF – The Bet *

> JACK HARPER – Plateau

> MATT RAYBURN – Mountain Lion *

> THE MUTE – The Breadth of an Ocean *

* = Explicit – No use of y/n. No physical descriptions. – F!Reader unless stated otherwise. – Check out my main masterlist for other characters.

[havokangel]

Run Boy Run - Braxton Wolff x Reader [Chapter 2]

The last thing Braxton Wolff thought he’d be doing today was killing all of his men, killing half of Moreno’s lackeys, and practically beating an old man into giving him his old pickup to make a messy escape. His nerves and reflexes are on high as he grips his bloodstained gun with one hand, the other managing to stay in a single lane; much to his own shock that he’s actually capable of doing that at the moment.

He’s in the outskirts of Illinois now, and the first, coherent and rational thing that goes through his mind is: I gotta ditch this piece of shit.

Or, the one where an ex-hitman comes into your life and changes it forever - and you’re trying to decide if it was for the better or the worse.

CHAPTER ONE 

LINK TO A03

a/n; HELLO ALL! it’s me! karley! i’m not dead!! i promise! i’ve had this chapter sitting in my docs for literally over a year and a half and im so sorry it’s taken me this long yall. i love writing but my life has been INSANE and i’ve just been busy with school and my boyfriend etc. so please leave me some feedback, i would love to come back and write for you guys! enjoy <3

@alexsunmners

-------

The night of the massacre

It’s been less than 24 hours since the massacre in Chicago. Moreno hasn’t even changed out of his blood-soaked clothes, making him all the more terrifying than he normally is. His jaw has always been sharp, but the way the blood is spattered on it makes it look like it could slit a throat.

With his gun cocked in his hand, he paces slowly, like a lion in front of his pathetic excuse of a team. There’s not a lot of them left, but with their training from an expert like Moreno, he expects more from them than what they’ve given him.

His men watch him with a blank expression, all of them masking the underlying fear that lives deep within them. They watch as he paces quietly, eyeing them as if he was going to pounce any second.

“So,” Moreno finally speaks, voice low and hoarse. “You’re tellin' me that you let Braxton fucking Wolff kill half of my team-and you fuckin’ let him go?”

His brows rise in fury, a downright terrifying and sarcastic grin tugging at his lips. Moreno’s hair is in disarray, and his usual calm and collected demeanor is nowhere to be found. How could it be in a situation like this? His men are dead. Someone he trusted double-crossed him. The worst part? No one saw it coming.

“Huh? You fuckers ain’t got nothing to say, huh?” Moreno hisses, running a hand through his hair, the gun now raised. He doesn’t hesitate as he steps forward, pressing the barrel of the gun against the forehead of one of his men, Wilson. Wilson visibly turns white but doesn’t move. They know Moreno. They know that if one of them does one wrong move, he wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

“Wolff has my money. He fuckin’ took all of it, and he killed half of you too. How the fuck does that even happen?” Moreno snarls, sweat beading down his temples.

“We didn’t expect it to happen.”

Moreno turns his head slowly at the voice that dares to say something. Barnes.

Barnes always was one of Moreno’s favorites, just under Braxton. Barnes is calm, collected, which Moreno has always liked. Not to mention, he’s one hell of a shot. Barnes knows he’s got some of Moreno’s favor. Maybe he’d listen to him.

“And how the fuck did none of us expect this kind of attack to happen?” Moreno questions, lowering the gun from Wilson’s head. He steps towards Barnes slowly, and Barnes swallows hard and maintains his level-headedness.

“You know Brax. You trained him, you mentored him. Everything he learned was from you, sir. He was always one step ahead. He knew how to keep everything under wraps before the attack. He knew how to lie. That’s why we didn’t expect it to happen.”

Moreno squints as Barnes explains himself, and Barnes can practically feel the pure rage radiating off of him because Moreno knows deep down that he’s right. If anyone else tried to pull off this big of a heist, let alone solo, Moreno would find out and shut it down. Moreno is smart, but Brax is smarter.

And there’s no way Moreno is going to admit that. There’s no way he’s going to let Brax live after stealing his millions of dollars. He’s going to kill Braxton Wolff if it’s the last goddamn thing he does in his life.

Moreno falls silent for a moment before he steps away from Barnes. He thinks for a second before he speaks.

“I want all of you to find Brax. I don’t fuckin’ care what it takes. Find his aliases, find his fuckin’ fake credit cards, fuckin-hack into security cameras-I don’t give a shit. I’m gonna kill that bastard. M’gonna kill him and anyone that gets in my way. You got it?”

Everyone nods, but no one expects Moreno to return the gun to Wilson’s forehead and pull the trigger. The sound of the shot reverberates around the room, and pieces of what was Wilson’s brain lands on the men next to him. Moreno doesn’t even blink as he shoves the gun into Barnes’s hand, and spits,

“Clean that shit up and get to work. We’re gonna find him.”

---------------

Braxton isn’t used to waking up to the sunlight creeping in slowly and the birds chirping. He’s used to hearing the horns of traffic and people with thick Chicago accents yelling at each other. Waking up like this feels like some sort of dream as he blinks his eyes, adjusting to the golden rays of light sweeping over him. There’s something that he hasn’t ever really done before that’s new, as well.

Waking up next to someone.

He tilts his head to look over at you, and the memories from the night before make him bite down on his lower lip. He hasn’t slept over after a hookup since he was in fucking high school. Brax can’t help but reach out to trace his fingertips ever so lightly over the curve of your waist, your lower half covered by his flannel sheets. Much to his surprise, you barely move. But he figures that’s from spending the night fucking relentlessly.

Brax gets up from the bed as up as quietly as he can, wincing slightly when the bed creaks. He scrubs a hand over his beard and pulls his sweats and shirt on and pads to the kitchen, grabbing a mug to make some coffee. As he waits for it to drip, he heads outside to lean against the patio railing, letting his eyes flutter shut.

Last night was amazing, but even fucking a pretty girl doesn’t stop the nightmares.

Every time he manages to sleep, all he can see is the blood, he can hear the screams, he can feel Moreno’s men stabbing him. Every scar on his body fucking hurts every time he thinks of it. Brax can’t help but to rub his hand over the most prominent scar on his neck and shuddering at the thought of how much blood came from it. His breath almost catches as the memories come back, and he knows he’s on the verge of an anxiety attack -- or something damn near close to that.

When Brax was a child, his older brother Christian was his responsibility. He was his responsibility because after their mother left, their father became a different man. And not for the better.

Christian always was different from the other kids. Their parents knew this. Their mother, who took the time to educate herself on Asperger’s, cared and loved Christian despite it. Hell, she even educated Braxton on it and made sure he knew how to be a good brother to Christian even when Braxton was too little to understand.

Their father was a different story.

After their mother left, Christian became even more sensitive to the world around him, which resulted in some episodes of overstimulation. Their mother always would hold him close, and say with him the nursery rhyme she always used to tell them as babies.

Solomon Grundy.

After she left, Braxton took her role. He memorized every word of that rhyme and uses it on himself to this day when he feels like he needs to grab hold of something to anchor him to reality.

So that’s what he does now, and he gets halfway through it before he can hear the slider open and he tenses before he feels your soft arms wrap around his waist.

“Morning, Brax.”

His eyes flutter open and Brax really can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of his lips. His large hands dwarf yours as he rubs your hand and turns around in your arms, and says,

“Morning, sweetheart.”

Your hair is in a lazy bun and you have a little bit of mascara smudged under your eyes, and somehow you look even more beautiful than you did the previous night. You almost smirk lazily as your chin rests on his chest.

“I sure hope some of that coffee is for me. I’m gonna need it.”

“Oh yeah? You got work or somethin’?” He teases, hands stroking your back slowly.

“Yeah,” you reply with a laugh, nose scrunching up. “Plus you fucked me real good, so that’s also another reason.”

He passes an easy laugh and he just squeezes your ass, earning a delighted chuckle from you as he says, “C’mon kid. I’ll get you some.”

By the time you both guzzle down your coffee, he’s grabbed your ass more than you would care to admit and you’ve kissed him between soft smiles. If you were squinting, you’d think that he was being soft. But in the fleeting moments when it’s quiet, it feels as if he’s not present; like he’s not quite here, but rather somewhere else. His eyes in those moments feel empty, distant.

You tell yourself not to overthink it. It’s not like you’re married to the guy.

When you’re pulling on your clothes from last night, Brax lies on his bed with his sweats hanging dangerously low on his hips and his hands behind his head, admiring your curves as you move around. After you’re done clothing yourself, he stands and walks you to the front door.

“You want me to walk you back to the bar? S’kind of a far walk.” He offers, hands going in the pockets of his sweats.

“Nah, I should be good,” You respond, arms folded across your chest. “But thanks for last night. It was a lot of fun.” The blush that sneaks past your conscience is enough to make you embarrassed, but Brax finds it sweet.

“No, it was my pleasure. Trust me. Haven’t had that kinda fun in a long time, sweetheart.”

You both just pass a small laugh, and you look at your feet before you look back up at him. You hesitate before you lean forward and kiss his cheek and say, “Neither have I. Give me a call if you’re ever bored, yeah?”

And before he can say anything, you’re leaving, smirking over your shoulder as you steal one last glance at him. He stands there with his hands in his pockets; and the only thing running through his mind as he watches you is, goddamn, he can’t wait to get his hands on you again.

You really don’t expect Brax to text you so quickly. I mean, come on, have you seen the man? He could easily get anybody he wanted to with one look, beguiling them to submission. Shit, he practically did it to you not even twenty-four hours ago.

Maybe it’s the self-deprecating thoughts getting the better of you, but regardless, you shave as soon as you get that text and you head over to his little cabin. After all, you did have a good time the previous night -- the handprints on your ass is more than enough evidence of that.

The porch light is on when you walk up the steps of his porch, and you don’t even get the chance to knock before he’s opening the door, curls awry and a smirk peeking through his beard.

“Just couldn’t wait, could you?” You tease, smirking as he tugs you in by the wrist. His hand goes to your ass and that smirk of yours vanishes just as quickly as it came.

“Nah, really couldn’t.”

If you thought the night before was incomparable, god were you wrong.

You weren’t even aware that your body was able to bend in the ways he makes you do, and you didn’t think you’d be into the rough way he handles you. His hands wrap around your throat, they smack your ass, and tangle themselves in your hair, making you gasp out his name as a fucking pornstar would. The best part? No neighbors can complain about the noise. Lord knows your nosy neighbors would be shoving an angry note under your door right about now.

By the time you’re done you’re on that high you were reveling in the previous night, Brax lying next to you- no doubt sharing the same feeling. Shoving your damp hair out of your face, you watch him as he stands up, pulling his boxer briefs on and muttering something about grabbing water. As he walks away, your eyes are drawn to his back. You squint as he exits the room, making out a huge mark on his back.

Huh. You hadn’t noticed that the night before.

He comes back with a cold glass of water for you, and you groan quietly out in relief after you gulp it down.

“Thanks,” you say softly, clearing your throat as you set the water down. He nods in acknowledgment and reaches down to grab his sweats in the process. You flick your eyes over again, and it’s no denying that it’s a huge scar across his back. It could be the dim lighting, it could be your tired state, but it looks fresh.

Lying back against his pillows, you hesitate before you ask him.

“What happened?”

“Whaddya mean?” He questions, voice gruff as always. He lies down next to you again, and you notice that he didn’t grab himself water. He got himself a beer.

“That scar on your back. It looks pretty fresh.”

Brax just takes another sip of his beer as he shrugs. If there’s one thing he’s always been good at, it’s lying on the spot. This situation is no different.

“Construction accident. Happened a few weeks before I got here.”

“Oh.”

Four years of a nursing program and one year of a master’s program in nursing taught you that a construction accident doesn’t look like that. A construction accident on that scale is rare. You know that kind of scar is something that’s more personal; more violent. But you don’t push it because, for all you know, it could be a freak accident. It could be true.

“Yeah, hurt like a bitch but I got some cash outta it. M’not gonna complain about some cash, y’know?”

He chuckles about it nonchalantly, and it eases your discomfort about it. So you laugh too. And just like the night before, he finishes off his beer and he pulls you back in for more, pretending like he’s normal again, and that this is normal for him.

[anna-hawk]

Well, this is embarrassing... I've had this request in my box for so long (months) that I can't remember who of @darlingshane or @roguesandsaviors gave it to me. And if it had been for a particular character, then that's even more of a mystery. Oops! I guess I'll just choose myself and 🤷‍♀️

“You’re cute when you’re all worried.”

Follows the idea of this previous Brax drabble. You might want to read it for some details to make sense.

You lift your watch to your eyes for the umpteenth time and huff in exasperation when you realize that the last time you had looked at it hasn't even been a minute ago. You'd been walking back and forth in the living room of the hotel suite, waiting for Brax to return from checking out your surroundings and making sure that the mark was still in place. Except that it's been over two hours now and there still hasn't been any sign from your partner.

Your eyes go to the case in which you'd transported your weapons. It's lying on the king-sized bed that you can see through the double doors giving into the living room. The case looks like a regular, small suitcase, but the inside had been designed to hold hand guns, knives and other easily hidden weapons.

Tapping a finger against the top of your thigh in annoyance, you head to the case and enter the combination before scanning your fingerprints on the underside of the handle. It springs open with a silent "click", and you lift the top to get to your arsenal. Your fingers flutter over the selection inside, your mind going over various scenarios for Brax's lateness, and pick out a Glock 19. You take out two ten round magazines, pushing one into the pocket of your pants and slotting the other one into the Glock with a practiced move.

You're fixing some knives to the inside of your boots, when the door to the suite opens. On reflex, you grab the gun back from the holster where you'd put it while taking care of the knives, and face the entrance, gun held high and pointed through the double doors of the bedroom at the person who had just walked in.

"Easy, easy. It's just me." Brax makes a show of slowly closing the door behind himself and lifting his hands with a smirk, wiggling the fingers of his left hand and holding a paper bag in the other one.

You lower the gun while you shoot Brax a death glare.

"Where the hell were you? Have you gotten that slow that it takes you over two hours to check out a location now?"

Brax rolls his eyes and walks further into the suite, strutting towards the sofa that is facing your way and putting the bag onto the glass table standing in front of it. He sits down, leans back against the sofa and spans the length of the backrest with his arms while simultaneously spreading his legs in a casual pose.

"You’re cute when you’re all worried," Brax croons sarcastically, flicking his tongue over his lower lip. "You gotta chill a bit, Babycakes. This mission is already making you more aggressive than usual, and we've barely even started." He moves his head in a patronizing gesture, swiveling it minutely from side to side.

In the time it takes him to use this new ridiculous pet name, you've seized the handle of one of the knives still lying on the bed and thrown it through the open space that is lying between you and Brax. The knife lodges with a faint thud in the upholstery of the sofa, right between Brax's spread legs.

Brax's hips move reflexively backwards, his eyes widening as they take in the knife before they lift to your face and turn dangerously dark.

"What did I tell you about calling me those stupid names?" You ask, your voice sweet but your eyes deadly.

Brax pulls the knife out and inspects it.

"You'll be the one paying for the damage," he states as he stands while still not looking at you. He flips the knife once in his hand and lets it fall, blade first, into the armrest this time. "You're lucky you didn't touch the suit." He tugs at the lapels of his suit jacket and smooths a hand down the crisp, white shirt.

"I ain't paying shit. And we both know that this hasn't anything to do with luck," you snort derisively as you watch him approach.

"You know..." He stops right in front of you. "You should be more grateful to someone who brought you some muffins."

"I'll be grateful when this mission is over, and I'll finally be able to get rid of you."

Brax's face splits into a large grin.

"Funny. Last time we split up, you weren't that keen to kick me out of your bed."

Brax laughs loudly when you try to reach for one of the knives in your boots and catches your wrist to stop you. He blocks your other hand that has come up to punch him in the side of the face, taking hold of this one too, and hooks a foot behind one of your legs to get you off balance and to fall, with him on top, onto the bed.

"Now, let's see how sharp they really are." Brax holds both of your wrists with one of his large hands, and pulls a knife out of your boots to run the blade slowly along your top. You can feel the metal grazing your skin as it cuts through the fabric, but Brax never breaks your skin.

"I liked that shirt," you tell him flatly, your eyes observing his movements.

"I'll make up for it." Brax stares into your eyes, a mischievous smile playing over his lips.

"Promises, promises," you tease.

The knife clatters to the floor when Brax lets go of it and finally moves into action.

I felt like writing some drabbles tonight instead of, well, working on my WIPs (yeah, yeah, I know 😆).

[roguesandsaviors]

Brax Drabble

Author's Note: This wasn't planned but came to me last night as I was trying to finish up my two fics for @bernthirst-events Birthday Big Bang. Not a request, just a short little fic idea that piggybacks off a relationship established in a previous Brax drabble. Hope everyone enjoys!

The streets were busy, leaving little room for the two of you to accomplish what you needed. It was early on in the night still, meaning it would only become more busy as the darkness crept in. Then again, it also gave a crowd to blend in. Not in costume, the two of you walked down the street with a purpose, though it hardly showed in your posture. There wouldn't be a point in giving away anything, making you stand out more than you already did, walking among the street of trick or treaters. You could feel Brax a little tense beside you, watching as all the kids moved through the streets with an excitement that could only be contained in youth. 

Of all nights that you had a job to do, it had to be Halloween. Apparently the other men were entirely incompetent in being able to handle it. At least it was his brother this time. Not that you would say such a thing aloud. But still the night that had been planned was entirely ruined. Rare was it that you two could get a night off, at the same time no less, and have things planned out. A nice dinner in that the two of you were going to share had long gone to waste. Oh well, there was almost the next time in lord only knew how many weeks or months. 

The house was quiet when you approached, seemingly dead. Perfect for what was about to happen. The couple wasn't home yet, working in your favor. You slipped the key from your sleeve, opening the door as if the two of you belonged. With all the strangers in the neighborhood, few paid attention to what was happening. 

"Can't get this over soon enough with all the little gremlins running around outside." The grumble came from the man beside you as the door closed. It was enough to bring a small laugh from you. 

"Could be worse. The crowd at least gives us a small cover to blend into once we leave."

"Not worth it. This place is dead enough anyway that we don't need a crowd to blend into when we leave. No one would notice." 

"You're just grumpy because you're not the one getting the candy." Really, he had left himself open for the teasing and you couldn't help it. There were few things that you could really tease your husband about and that happened to be one of them. He had a boom of things on you so when you had the opportunity, you had to take it. He leveled you with a stern glare, clearly not as amused by the tease as you had been. Leaning up, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Calm down. It was a joke. Though maybe I can snag some on the way back home. Might put you in a better mood." You stepped away before he could say or do anything, deciding to just scout the house. The blueprints were known like the back of your hand but one could never be too safe. 

***********

The owners of the home had arrived a little later than planned, which of course threw off your evening more than the need to see them already had. Brax was in no mood for games, ever the gentleman though as he worked, but making things quick. He took the husband while you handled the wife, no mess made, everything running smoothly.

The two of you slipped from the house once everything was staged properly. Now it was dark and the streets were jam backed with individuals, young and old, joining in on the festival holiday fun. 

You had managed to swipe a few pieces of candy, stuffed into your coat pocket for the man beside you when you heard him groan. It may have been too late to give him the sweet treat now. A group of teenagers had just ridden by, apparently egging a car, and he had been the bystanding victim. You could see the egg on his coat, and on closer inspection, he had some dripping down his cheek. 

It was difficult not to laugh and you knew by the aggravated look on his face that he was thoroughly fed up with the night. Nope, the sweet treats would definitely not help fix this. A shower and some special attention tonight might help soothe things though.

"Have I mentioned, I fucking hate Halloween."

[lucy-sky]

Thirst (vampire!Braxton Wolff x f!Reader)

The title says it all :’) I didn’t plan to write another vampire!Brax story, or at least I didn’t plan to write it that fast, but well, I came across the screenshots from this interview and this fic is just a PWP, heavily inspired by what Jon does with his tongue in this interview (and basically his whole look in it). So yeah, uh... enjoy, I guess :’)

Warnings: SMUT - oral sex f receiving, a bit of overstimulation, unprotected vaginal sex; also yes, they’re vampires, so they drink blood :D

A/N: In this alternate universe vampires can sleep and they also reflect in the mirrors. Because I said so :P

Words: 1379; gif by me; AO3 link if you prefer reading there.

Hunger wakes you up at the set of sun. You’ve never been a fan of getting up early, always considered yourself a night owl, and now you’ve practically become a nocturnal animal. Thankfully, your bartender job allowed you that.

Braxton snores quietly on the bed by your side, face buried into the pillow. You actually like looking at him sleeping. He seems so peaceful and vulnerable - a rare sight to see when he’s awake. But as much as you love it, hunger doesn’t let you enjoy the view.

Grunting, you get up, still feeling a little sore from what you’ve been doing a few hours ago. Every time you stay at his place, it ends up the same, as if bloodthirst is not the only kind of hunger you have. It’s always rough and feral and every time it feels like the both of you can’t get enough of each other. Brax can be terrible, vain and arrogant to the point you wish to punch him in the face, but you melt the second he grips the back of your neck and kisses you furiously. You simply can’t fight it and to be fair, you’re not sure if you want to. As a freshly turned vampire, you still need someone more experienced around, you need his guidance, and wild sex the two of you have is not the worst bonus after all.

You grab his flannel shirt you use as a robe to cover your naked body, and walk to the kitchen, where you get a fresh blood pack out of the fridge. The moment you sink your fangs into it and take a gulp, you instantly feel better, the tension and ache in your muscles disappears, and you let out a deep sigh of relief. Then your reflection in the windowpane catches your eye and causes you to wince in frustration - you really wish to find some… less messy way to consume blood. It’s all around your mouth and dripping from your chin - not the most pleasant thing to see.

“Got a bit thirsty, sweetheart?”

His voice startles you in the silence of the night.

“Fuck, Brax,” you breathe out.

“Scared of me, little one? Don’t be,” He smirks, stepping closer. Unlike you, he didn’t bother to put something on, perfectly confident and comfortable in his nakedness.

“Ugh… Don’t look at me, okay?.. That’s disgusting,” you reach for paper towels on the counter to clean yourself up, but Braxton stops you, grabbing you by the shoulders and turning you to face him.

“Disgusting? You’re kidding me, sweetheart. You’re the hottest thing I’ve seen. You got something left for me, huh?” He croons, as his eyes trace the string of blood trickling from your chin down your neck, to the valley between your breasts. He leans down to catch it with his tongue somewhere at your solar plexus. You shiver, breath quickening, as he slowly licks his way up your body, pausing at your collarbones to leave a couple of soft bites and suck on the tender skin of your neck.

“Delicious,” he murmurs when he reaches your mouth to kiss you greedily, humming in approval as you welcome him. Kissing him back, you reach out to caress the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his dark curls, slightly messy after sleep.

“Enjoyed your night snack?” You smile when he pulls back a little.

“Not really,” he chuckles, and his lips are back on you again. Leaving a trail of kisses along your jawline, he starts his way back down, past your throat and collarbones, until he reaches your breast. You let out a quiet moan as the tip of his tongue circles your nipple, teasing you before capturing the hardened bud with his mouth to gently suck it. His ministrations send sparks of pleasure right through your core, making you crave for more.

Brax repeats his actions on your other breast, enjoying the way you writhe at the sensations, and then you gasp in surprise when he seizes your hips and lifts you up to sit on the kitchen counter. You spread your legs for him eagerly as his fingers slip past your folds, probing the wetness between them.

“Sweet girl… Always so fucking ready for me…” He purrs before sucking on your earlobe. And just as you’re about to reach his cock to guide him inside you, Brax drops on his knees. Settling between your parted legs he inhales your scent deeply. As you glance down, his eyes lock with yours. Braxton slowly licks his lips, holding your gaze, and then dips his head between your thighs, his warm tongue diving all the way inside you without hesitation.

Your body shudders, sharp half-moan half-gasp escaping you at the intensity of his actions. In search of something to hold onto, you desperately tug on his hair, causing him to groan against your folds as he’s eating you out like a starving man. Burying his face even deeper into your pussy, he literally fucks you with his tongue, his big nose bumping against your clit.

You feel like you’re losing your mind, so close, and yet it’s not enough… Thankfully, Brax seems to know exactly what you need. When his lips wrap around your throbbing bundle of nerves, you lose it. The wave of pure ecstasy hits you, covers you from head to toes, leaving you a gasping, trembling mess as he’s licking you clean. He doesn’t stop until you gently push his head away, squirming from overstimulation.

When Brax is back on his feet, he kisses you again. From the way his lips crush on yours, you can tell he’s not nearly done with you.

“Brax, wait,” you whisper feverishly as you feel the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance.

“What’s that, sweetheart?”

“Just… Just give me a moment, okay?”

“Okay… I’ll go slowly, yeah?”

When you nod, he pulls you closer, urging you to wrap your legs around his hips as he pushes his cock inside you.

You drop your head into the crook of his neck, moaning as he stretches you out slowly. Right now it feels better than hard thrusts, it allows you to savor it. Brax is surprisingly caring and patient with you tonight - he doesn’t move for a few seconds when he’s fully seated, letting you adjust, and then bucks his hips up carefully.

You’re still so sensitive from your climax, that even this shallow thrust is enough to make your insides flutter around his length. The sensation is absolutely delicious, and you bite back another moan.

“Oh… Brax, this… you… you feel so good…” you mumble as he thrusts again, harder this time, hitting your g-spot perfectly from this angle. Encouraged by your praise, he starts moving faster, setting a moderate pace. You love the way he grunts against your ear, breathing heavily, his nails digging into your hips. Soon you feel this familiar heat in your lower belly as your second orgasm approaches.

“Harder!..”

Braxton doesn’t need to be told twice. You cling to him, biting on his shoulder when he slams into you, deep and hard, and you feel your walls contracting around him.

“That’s it, that’s it, attagirl… give me all you got, baby…”

His husky voice is like the last straw that brings you over the edge. Your climax is unusually long and intense, practically mind shattering. Through the haze of your bliss you hear Brax groaning through clenched teeth, spilling his warm load deep inside of you.

For a while you just stay like that, holding each other as you’re slowly getting back from your highs.

“Nice snack, huh?” Braxton finally rasps, tilting his head to face you, and you snort a breathless laugh.

“Yeah, that was… something else.”

Smiling, you comb your fingers through his hair as you lean in to press a kiss against the bridge of his nose. He chuckles at this, and it’s not his usual devilish smirk, but something way more tender.

“Wanna go get to the shower?” He suggests.

“Actually… I think I want to lay down for a bit.”

“Alright. Hold on.”

Wrapping your arms and legs around Braxton’s frame, you nuzzle into the side of his neck, allowing him to bring you back to the bedroom.

Thanks for reading! 

Tags: @darlingshane, @anna-hawk​, @sweetieswiftie, @skvatnavle, @fictionalnerdery

[lucy-sky]

Monsters in the Dark (vampire!Braxton Wolff x f!Reader)

You were attacked and stabbed on your way from work, and Braxton saves you... But at what cost...

Warnings: vampire AU; mentions of blood, injury and violence - it’s a rather dark story comparing to my usual stuff; hurt/comfort; The Reader just became a vampire and it’s quite overwhelming for her; smut - rather rough sex against the wall; Brax calling you “sweetheart” A LOT with different intonations... probably too much, but I couldn’t help it :’)

Words: 2872; gifs by me; AO3 link if you prefer reading there

A/N: Well fuck... I’m really scared to ruin your expectations, so I worked a lot on this one :’) The Reader goes through a rollercoaster of emotions, but... I just think if I were her I'd feel about the same, really. And Brax, well... When I look at him I can't decide if I want to punch or to snog him, or both, so yeah... :’) The story includes a bit of Braxton's POV just because I wanted to give him a bit more depth and show that he's pretty much capable to have feelings too. I didn't want to make him too nice though, hope I managed. I also apologize for using the same cliche phrases when I write sex scenes - in my head everything looks really hot, but sometimes I have problems describing it :’)

By the time Braxton appears with a fresh portion of donor blood, your hunger is practically unbearable. You’ve never dealt with hard drugs… Hell, you don’t even smoke, but now you think you know exactly how drug addicts feel. You have no idea where he got the blood packs, or if it’s legal or not, but you don’t care one bit, as you practically tear it from his hands.

When the hunger is finally satisfied, all of a sudden you feel disgusted and scared of yourself, as the realization hits you: if there was a human being in front of you instead of the blood pack, you could easily rip their throat. What kind of a monster have you become?..

It was your typical working night. You closed the bar at about 1 a.m. and headed to your car, like you always did.

Everything happened very fast.

The man looked like a hobo, or more like a junkie. He appeared from behind the dark corner and gripped onto your bag in a desperate attempt to snatch it out of your hands. Instinctively, you pulled the bag back, and that’s when a sharp pain spiked through your side, somewhere beneath your ribs. You gasped, knees quaking, as you fell down on the pavement. Looking down at your body, you saw that your white t-shirt is slowly turning dark red. You were bleeding.

The knife fell on the ground near you - the man who stabbed you, was apparently shocked by his own impulsive act. The next second he turned to run away from the crime scene. You anxiously rummaged your eyes around, hoping he dropped your bag in panic so that you could reach for your phone… Of course he didn’t. You tried to get up, but your legs betrayed you, pain hitting you again at the attempt to move.

What happened next reminded you of horror movies. You saw how a tall dark figure blocked the junkie’s way. You heard his stifled cry followed by a crunching sound - and the body fell on the ground.

You wanted to scream but your throat went dry and you couldn’t utter a sound. Paralized with fear, you watched the stranger coming closer. But when he crouched down in front of you, you realized his face was familiar. You saw this handsome dark-haired man in your bar way too often. Sometimes you even allowed yourself to casually flirt with him, which he obviously didn’t mind. The man frowned, his brown eyes examining you carefully.

“Please…” you rasped, desperately grabbing hold of his coat, “Help me… please!..”

“Sh, sh, sh… You’re gonna be alright,” he hushed, his voice strangely soothing.

“You’re gonna be alright, I promise you that.”

You drop the empty pack on the floor and stare at your hands. There’s blood on them, and there are also stains of blood on the huge Brax’s t-shirt you had to borrow because yours is ruined. Everything is like a fever dream, and you can’t believe this is your life now and you can do nothing about it.

“You could say thank you, you know… Like a good girl.”

Snapping out of your stupor, you realize he’s been watching you. Brax’s dark eyes lock with yours and his lips curl into a smirk. It takes a huge effort from you not to slap him.

“I didn’t ask you to do this to me,” you say instead, not even trying to hide the anger in your voice.

“Right. So you'd prefer to die than, huh?”

“It’s not the fucking Interview with the Vampire, Braxton!” You’re yelling at him now, unable to hold yourself together any longer. “You could have taken me to the hospital, or called an ambulance, or…”

“Or you’d bleed to death before getting to that hospital. You had no chance, sweetheart. I’m your lifesaver, no matter if you admit it or not,” he snarls.

“Lifesaver? Bullshit! You’re a monster, Brax! I saw what you did to that guy…”

“So now you feel sorry for that piece of shit?! Bet he didn’t feel sorry when he stabbed you! The bastard got what he deserved.”

“It’s not about him and what he deserved, it’s about you! You killed him just like that, without blinking an eye, you… You’re a monster, and you made me a monster too!”

“Hey, don’t you make me a fucking villain, okay? I’m the reason you’re here, not lying on that pavement in the puddle of blood.”

“Well maybe that wouldʼve been for the best! Because I don’t wanna live like that, I-I simply can’t…” You trail off, breathing heavily.

“Easy there, girl,” Braxton steps closer, reaching out to put his hand on your shoulder. “You’re shaking…”

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you hiss, jerking away from him. “I hate you so much, you have no idea.”

With this, you turn on your heels and storm out of the room. You feel like you’re about to sob, and you don’t want him to see you crying.

Braxton watches her disappearing in the bedroom, door slamming shut behind her.

“She just needs some time,” he thinks as he walks to the kitchen to put the rest of the blood packs in the fridge. It’s all too much, of course she’s overwhelmed. He should really be more patient with her. The poor girl didn’t deserve any of this. Especially being stabbed by some piece of scum who tried to steal her bag to buy another load. Son of a bitch. Brax was too disgusted to drink this junkie’s blood, so he simply broke his neck in one swift motion. The bastard barely managed to scream.

Taking off his coat, he sits down on the couch, closes his eyes, leaning his head against the backrest.

She’s a nice girl.

Brax has always been a loner, and he was okay with it. He never had problems finding a woman to spend the night with, if he needed to satisfy his sexual needs. He got pretty much used to being on his own. But this girl… There’s something different about her, something he can’t quite catch, but for some reason she, for once, made him really feel something. An odd, forgotten feeling, somewhere from the past, from his previous life. When he still was human.

That night he could drink her up - he actually was tempted to. Her smell was truly intoxicating. But when she looked at him, begging for help, it hit him - he didn’t want to let her go.

Brax has always been a loner, and he thought he was okay with it. But when he met her, something changed deep inside him. Made him softer. Because when he thinks about what happened, what he did to her, he feels something he hasn't felt for ages - a pang of guilt.

He wasn’t completely honest with her. Maybe she actually had a chance to survive. A rather slim chance, but still. Maybe he could really manage to bring her to the hospital alive if he was fast enough, or at least he could try… No, that night he didn’t even think about it, driven by his selfish desire not to be alone, now that he suddenly got this opportunity.

He shakes his head, chasing away this thought. Guilty or not, it already doesn’t matter. What’s done is done, and there’s no way back. He did that to her, and he’s responsible for her now.

He has to make it up to her.

When you hear him knocking at the door, you don’t answer, but he enters anyway.

“Hey.”

You don’t even turn to look at him as he sits down on the opposite side of the bed, his back turned to yours.

“You alright?”

From all the possible questions he chose the dumbest one.

“How do you think?” You mutter under your breath, quickly wiping your tears as you stand up and take a step towards the window. Braxton lives not that far from your bar, which is definitely not the friendliest neighborhood. But the last rays of setting sun make the gray apartment buildings look warmer, soften their shapes, and the view is surprisingly peaceful. Crossing your arms over your chest, you let out a deep sigh. How the hell are you supposed to be alright? Will you ever be?..

“Look uh… I’m sorry, okay?” He says after a pause. The bed creaks softly as he gets up to approach you at the window. He stands right behind you now.

“I know it’s real hard, I’ve been there… It’s too much for you, I understand.”

You can feel his hand on your shoulder again, but don’t move away this time. After that outburst you’ve just had, all you feel right now is emptiness, and you desperately need some comfort.

“I don’t wanna fight.”

Braxton sounds concerned. Maybe he really cares for you? He could have killed you after all. In fact, he could have killed you the night you first met if he wanted to - you would be an easy target, because well… You can’t deny it - you sort of had a crush on him. So if he asked you out, you most certainly wouldn’t say no.

He could have killed you and drunk up your blood, but he chose to save you instead… What if he’s right and it was the only way?.. And even if it wasn't, does it matter now? You have to find a way to live with it somehow, and you don’t want to take this journey alone.

“Me neither,” you reply quietly.

“It gets better. Promise,” he says as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, making you shiver at the sensation.

“Better? Really?” You finally turn to face him. “I feel like I’m losing my mind, Brax! This hunger… It’s driving me mad. What if… What if I kill someone? I’m… I’m scared I-” Your voice breaks on the verge of panic.

“Shh… not gonna happen, sweetheart, look at me,” his hand cups your jaw, thumb brushing gently to wipe away the tear from your cheek. “You’ll learn to control it soon. I’ll help. You don’t have to kill anyone to survive. Trust me, okay?..”

And probably you shouldn’t, but when you look into his deep brown eyes, you really want to trust him. It’s crazy how just about a half an hour ago you felt like you hated him with every fiber of your being, and yet…

You need something to hold onto. Or someone. Simply to stay sane.

“Okay,” you whisper, nodding slowly.

“Attagirl, there you go.”

He pulls you a bit closer, pressing his lips against your forehead. You close your eyes and lean into his touch, filled with sudden tenderness you didn’t expect from him. He kisses your cheek, still damp with tears, before drawing back, his gaze trailing down to your lips.

“You uh… Got some blood right there.”

Braxton leans in, and you gasp in surprise when you feel his tongue at the corner of your mouth. You thought the vampires are supposed to be cold, and yet the touch of his lips is surprisingly warm and pleasant. He pulls away for a split second, his eyes searching for yours, silently asking for permission, and then his lips are back on yours. You melt into the kiss, shivers running down your spine as his tongue slowly explores your mouth.

Your fingers instinctively tangle into his hair, pulling him even closer, and he hums in approval, kissing you deeper, more and more urgently. Another gasp escapes you when he suddenly pins you against the nearest wall, seizing your wrists above your head. His lips are now trailing down your jaw, to the side of your neck. When he reaches two small, already barely visible scars, he traces them with the tip of his tongue.

You’re completely at his mercy right now, and the memory from last night instantly pops up in your head - the moment his fangs sank into the delicate skin of your neck. At that moment you didn’t feel scared any longer. You felt a rush of adrenaline, something close to sexual arousal, sharp pain mixed with pleasure to the point of euphoria… Something you’ve never experienced before.

You let out a soft moan, feeling the heat rising up in the pit of your belly, your hips bucking involuntary in search for some pressure and friction to relieve your sudden aching need.

“You like that, huh?”

His voice is hoarse, eyes dark with lust, and there’s this cheeky smirk on his face again. He looks dangerous, and yet so incredibly attractive.

“Yes,” you breathe out, earning another hungry kiss from him. Braxton’s free hand reaches to wrap around your throat as he kisses you. He doesn’t choke you, but the grip is firm enough, and this gesture of possession sends another spark of arousal through you.

It’s so unlike you, but this man… He evokes something feral, something primal and animalistic deep inside of you, and right now you don’t care how well or how long you know him, or if he’s good or bad… You just want him to ruin you.

“Love the way my shirt looks on you.”

Letting go of your throat, his hand slides down your body, snaking underneath the t-shirt to squeeze your breast.

“Brax!..” you moan out his name.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” He rasps against your ear “Tell me.”

“You… I want you,” You whisper breathlessly.

“Gotta be more precise, darlin’.”

“I… I want you inside me… I want you to fuck me, Brax!”

“Good girl.”

Braxton releases your wrists from his tight grip to quickly unzip your jeans and yank them down together with your panties. On shaky legs you step out of them when they slide down to your feet, and instantly reach the buckle of his belt. He tugs his jumper over his head and tosses it away, while you manage to undo his pants.

“Open your legs for me, sweetheart.”

Pressing you against the wall again, he urges you to bend your knee and pulls your leg over his hip. You bite your lip, breath hitching somewhere in the back of your throat, when he lets his deft fingers slip between your folds, groaning into the crook of your neck at the wetness he finds there. A shameless whimper escapes your mouth when he starts rubbing your clit in fast circles, and Brax muffles your moans with another sloppy kiss.

He brings you to the very edge like this, but doesn’t let you fall over it, and you almost whine in frustration as he smirks at you, licking his fingers clean.

“Attagirl. You ready?”

“Want me to beg?” You ask back defiantly. He chuckles at your boldness.

“Not this time, darlin’.”

With this, he seizes your hips, lifting you up. You grip onto his shoulders, clinging to him as he gives his cock a couple of pumps before finally slamming inside you with a hard thrust, letting out a low grunt. You gasp at the sudden sensation of fullness, but he doesn’t even give you a chance to adjust, setting a rough, punishing pace. You hold onto him for dear life, scratching his back and his broad shoulders, obscene moans falling from your lips every time he hits that spot deep inside you which makes your back arch and your toes curl. Pleasure coils in your lower belly, pulsing and throbbing, threatening to burst.

“Come on, sweetheart, give it to me.”

When his thumb presses against your clit, you lose it. The climax hits you like an explosion, so intense your vision turns blurry as your muscles clench around him and you dig your nails even deeper into his skin. Brax is quick to follow. A few more thrusts and he spills inside of you, a deep groan rumbling in his chest. You lean your head against the wall, completely blissed out. Brax’s face is buried into the crook of your neck as he holds you close, both of you panting heavily, trying to catch your breath.

When your breathing is finally back to normal, you let your fingers run through his dark curls absentmindedly. Braxton makes a content hum at your caress, and for some reason your heart flutters with a sudden surge of tenderness towards him. It surprises you how fast you went from hating him to something like this. It’s weird, but you can’t help it.

Then you notice the scratches you left on his shoulders and upper back. Carefully, you start tracing them with your fingers, causing him to shiver slightly at your touch.

“Sorry for this,” you blurt, and he lets out a breathless laugh.

“Don’t be. We heal up way faster than uh… Humans.”

This phrase brings you back to reality.

“Brax?”

“Yeah?”

“Look at me.”

He tilts his head up reluctantly, meeting your gaze.

“You’re not gonna leave me, are you? I mean… I don’t wanna go through this alone. Don’t think I can…” There’s a slight tremble in your voice, but he cuts you off, pressing his lips to yours.

“I ain't gonna leave you, sweetheart. Told you, you’re gonna be alright. I might be a monster, but I do keep my promises.”

Thank you for reading!

Yes, I know, there's bed in the room and they fuck against the wall... I have no idea how it happened, but it just happened, don't ask :')))

tags: @darlingshane, @anna-hawk, @sweetieswiftie, @skvatnavle, @fictionalnerdery, @anaaaispunk (i mean... you tag me, i tag you... let’s call it a fic exchange :D), @slavic-empress​ because it’s her birthday and i don’t have a better present xD

[lucy-sky]

vampire!Braxton Wolff Masterlist

PART 1 - Monsters in the Dark 

"When the hunger is finally satisfied, all of a sudden you feel disgusted and scared of yourself, as the realization hits you: if there was a human being in front of you instead of the blood pack, you could easily rip their throat. What kind of a monster have you become?.."

You were attacked and stabbed on your way from work, and Braxton saves you... But at what cost...

Warnings: mentions of blood and injury, light angst, hurt/comfort, SMUT

PART 2 - Thirst 

(...) his eyes trace the string of blood trickling from your chin down your neck, to the valley between your breasts. He leans down to catch it with his tongue somewhere at your solar plexus. You shiver, breath quickening, as he slowly licks his way up your body, pausing at your collarbones to leave a couple of soft bites and suck on the tender skin of your neck.

Warnings: SMUT - oral sex f receiving, a bit of overstimulation, unprotected vaginal sex

PART 3 - Eternity 

"You’ll never be able to explain what kind of witchcraft it is, but no other man ever had this effect on you. You might be questioning your relationship with him, ask yourself if it's healthy or not, but not when you're in his arms. In his arms you lose your ability to think completely. He didn’t even touch your… Hell, he didn’t even reach your underwear yet, but you’re already melting, your mind hazy with desire. Surrender to him and let him do anything he wants with you. Allow him to simply devour you whole - that’s what you’re craving for."

You're getting used to your new vampire nature, but there are still thoughts and questions that trouble you. You are not sure how you really feel about Braxton, but the reunion after some time apart brings the two of you to a new level of trust.

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood drinking / thigh feeding, SMUT - vaginal fingering

Vampire!Braxton Wolff AU series on AO3

My masterlist 2022

[darlingshane]

mad, mad, mad |  Braxton x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit  Words: 2,265  Additional Tags: Angst and Porn, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Name-Calling, Biting, Angry Sex, Sex, Brax is a jerk, Reader is a biter, Established Relationship, Female Reader, Smut

Summary: The buzz you had going, for the most part of the evening, has already worn off by the time you arrive home – way later than usual –  after having gone out for drinks with a couple friends from work.

Brax is not supposed to be back until tomorrow, that’s why, when you turn on the switch of the floor lamp and find him sitting quietly in the armchair, that your heart almost jumps out of your chest before realizing that it’s him.

“Jesus, Braxton.” You bring your palm to your mouth, watching him shift on the seat, crossing a leg over the other, and leaning back casually without messing up his neat suit. "Were you just sitting there in the dark the whole damn time?"

“What? Did I scare you?”

[Read at AO3]

[havokangel]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Accountant (2016), The Punisher (TV 2017) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Braxton Wolff/Reader, Braxton/Reader Characters: Braxton Wolff, Christian Wolff, Original Male Character(s), Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Drama, Smut, Angst, Action, Mild Blood, Mild Gore, not too bad though, will I ever finish this fic?, probably not because no one talks about the accountant anymore, Jon Bernthal - Freeform, Rough Sex, Porn With Plot, The Accountant - Freeform, mention of suicide, there's only like one bit if you're triggered by that Summary:

The last thing Braxton Wolff thought he’d be doing today was killing all of his men, killing half of Moreno’s lackeys, and practically beating an old man into giving him his old pickup to make a messy escape. His nerves and reflexes are on high as he grips his blood stained gun with one hand, the other managing to stay in a single lane; much to his own shock that he’s actually capable of doing that at the moment.

He’s in the outskirts of Illinois now, and the first, coherent and rational thing that goes through his mind is: I gotta ditch this piece of shit. Or, the one where an ex-hitman comes into your life and changes it forever - and you're trying to decide if it was for the better or the worse.

HI I’M BACK AFTER A FUCKING LONG ASS HIATUS WITH A FIC FOR A CHARACTER THAT NO ONE KNOWS ABOUT EXCEPT FOR JON BERNTHAL STANS!

anyways this definitely has a plot that could easily be turned into a full blown fic so! enjoy my loves and let me know if I should continue or not - here’s the link to the tumblr version of the fic, if you don’t have an AO3 account.

as always, please please PLEASE give me feedback because my attention craving ass loves a good comment.

love you all,

karley :))

[anna-hawk]

JB Spring Fling - Teasing Tuesday

Relationship: Braxton Wolff x GN!Reader Fandom: The Accountant Word count: 1733 Rating: T Summary: After your recent break-up, you decide to try your luck at a blind date. It doesn't go as planned. Prompt: Blind Date

You can also read it on AO3

You’re sitting at a table for two amidst a long row of other, similar tables, each one occupied by only one person. For now. Your leg bounces nervously as you try to keep your eyes on the glass of water in front of you and not on the entrance to the restaurant where the dates would soon be coming through.

Sighing, you pick up your water and drink a few sips to calm your nerves. It’s ridiculous, really. You hadn’t wanted to come in the first place, but your best friend had insisted that it could help you get out of your funk, and a blind date might just be the best way. You don’t have to get anyone’s number, but your friend had suggested that you should at least try to have fun and simply talk to the dates. After all, you never know what could come out of it. 

You are pulled out of your thoughts as a small bell chimes, indicating the start of the first blind date. You hadn’t even noticed that the dates had arrived. Someone pulls out the chair in front of you and sits down. 

“No!” You snap after realizing who you are facing and already start rising from your chair. 

“Hey, hey. Come on, wait.” 

“No,” you repeat, but are stopped in your escape by the person organizing the blind dates. 

“Is there a problem?” She asks, looking between you and Braxton questioningly. 

“Yes. This isn’t a blind date. I know him, for one, and I don’t want to talk to him at all, for another.” You jerk your head in Braxton’s direction with an annoyed scoff. 

“Babe-” He starts with a hand raised placatingly. 

“Do not call me that. You don’t get to call me that anymore, Wolff,” you hiss angrily, stressing his last name viciously. 

“I see,” the organizer says thoughtfully, looking at Braxton with narrowed eyes. “If you want to leave, I understand. But if you would consider staying, just so we have an even number and no one has to wait alone, I’d really appreciate it.” 

You sigh and look away for a moment, thinking. Braxton takes the decision from you, though. 

“You mind switching with me, Pal?” You hear him say and turn your head back to him to see him talk to the guy sitting at the table to your left. “Look at her.” He nods towards the woman the man is sitting across from, winking and grinning at her charmingly. “She’s out of your league anyway.” 

You groan at his words and the affronted look the other man is sending him. 

“I’m so sorry,” you tell him before he has the time to say anything back to Braxton. “Don’t listen to him, he’s just really insecure,” you sneer. 

Braxton opens his mouth, but the organizer speaks over him, giving him a stern look and asking him to move and to stay polite, or she would kick him out. She apologizes profusely to the other man, who is kind enough to shrug it off, while Brax lifts his hands in surrender and stands, waiting for the man to do the same. 

The woman gives Brax a put-on coy smile, clearly happy with the change, since she eyes him up unashamedly. You roll your eyes at her with a shake of your head and notice that the other guy is watching you with a smile. 

“I’m so sorry,” you repeat with an embarrassed laugh. 

“Eh, it’s fine. She clearly isn’t missing me,” he chuckles, nodding towards her and how she’s drinking up every word Brax is speaking. “I’m Mike, by the way.” 

“She has no idea what she’s getting into,” you mutter before smiling, relieved that he isn’t upset, and introduce yourself. “Nice to meet you, Mike.” 

Mike is sweet, you decide, and regret when the time with him is up, and he has to move to another table. The rest of the suitors are nice, but nothing happens that makes you want to ask for another date, and it seems like the feeling is mutual as no one asks for your number either. Mike, however, walks back towards you at the same time Brax does, but Mike snags the chair and sits back in front of you. He gives you an inquisitive glance, checking if you actually want him to sit with you again. You hear Braxton huff when you tell Mike that you’re happy to chat some more, and sits down with another woman, who’s just as charmed as all the others. You’re rather certain that each of them would have gladly given him their number if he’d asked. 

“So? What did you say you’re working in earlier?” The woman in front of Brax asks, sucking on the straw in her cocktail. 

“Insurance,” he answers in a monotone voice. You can see him watching your table from the corner of your eyes. 

You snort at his answer. Insurance. Right. 

“Did you meet anyone interesting tonight?” Mike wonders, folding his arms over the table and leaning on them. 

“Except for you, not really,” you answer honestly, while also enjoying Brax’s scoff at your words. 

“Yeah…” Mike smiles, pleased, but glances towards Brax, before looking back at you and nodding towards your ex with a lifted eyebrow. “Messy breakup? If it’s okay to ask, of course.” 

“I wish,” you reply with a heavy eye roll. 

“You didn’t give me the opportunity,” Brax suddenly cuts in with a groan. 

“You were gone for two months, Brax. Two months! Two months without news, without answering my calls or texts. You’ve pulled this kind of stuff on me, I don’t know how many times. That was the last straw,” you snipe angrily, accentuating your words with your finger pointing at him repeatedly like a stabbing motion. 

“You know I couldn’t,” Brax insists, and he'd sound contrite if not for the clear annoyance showing on his features. 

“No, I damn well did not. But it doesn’t matter anymore. We’re done.” You turn towards Mike again, smiling apologetically. 

“Maybe you should move on?” Braxton's date suggests, looking between hopeful and awkward. 

“Yeah, maybe. You wanna get out of here?” Brax revs his charm up to the max and makes you grind your teeth together at the flirty tone. 

“Friendly advice? Don’t believe everything he tells you,” you can’t help saying to her while she reaches for her purse. 

“I’ve always been honest with you,” Brax exclaims angrily. 

“Of course you have. Mister Insurance,” you sneer. 

“That’s not fair, you know-” he stops because, yeah, he can’t be fully honest considering his line of work. “How I felt about you was true,” he finally says instead. 

“Sure.” You turn to Mike, who’s looking at you with raised eyebrows and a smile halfway between amused and confused. 

“Are you saying that you just stopped loving me?” Brax keeps going, sitting back down and leaning towards you over the gap between the tables, his date watching along curiously. 

“Mike, would you like to have a drink somewhere else?” You ignore Brax’s question as you try not to let your emotions show. 

“Did you stop lov-”

“No! No, I didn’t stop loving you just like that,” you shout, exasperated. “Trying to forget you is a nightmare, Brax, and I hate you for it.” 

The organizer pops up in front of you with an unhappy expression towards Brax before she smiles at you uncomfortably. 

“I’m really sorry, but if you can’t settle this, I will have to ask you to leave.”

Closing your eyes in frustration about your outburst, you nod and stand, knowing that neither you nor Brax could stay quiet all evening. You look at Mike, who looks back with a warm smile. He doesn’t ask for your number, and you don’t offer it, both of you aware that there is no way that this could lead to anything after what had just happened. 

“Take care,” he simply says, to which you nod with a small smile before grabbing your things and heading for the exit. 

You don’t wait to see if Brax will follow, you know he will, as stubborn as he is, and walk faster. 

“I couldn’t help noticing that you used present tense.” Brax caught up with you as quickly as you had expected, the man walking a few steps behind you. 

“Oh good, you know your grammar,” you deadpan, glad to see your car up ahead. 

“You said that you’re trying to forget me. Which means that you haven’t yet,” he continues, his voice sounding hopeful and not smug like you’d have thought. 

Reaching your car, you turn around to lean on it and look at Brax. He’s wearing his infamous winter coat that you’ve always loved on him, his hair windswept and probably as soft as you remember it. 

“That doesn’t change anything,” you finally say after your perusal and crossing your arms. 

“Yeah, it does. It means I might still have a chance to win you back.” 

You look to the side with a shake of your head. 

“I can’t do this again… I know. I know that I knew what to expect going in. Call me selfish, but I can’t wait around and wonder for months on end if you’re still alive and coming back or if you’re…” you trail off, sighing explosively and looking skyward. 

“What if I can promise you that I’ll always find a way to contact you?”

“You can’t promise that, and you know it. Not with your…job.”

“What if I can? Even to let you know if… something happened?” Brax goes on, taking a step closer to you. 

You watch him, and you hate how hope blooms inside you again. 

“You can’t make me hopeful only to pull the rug from under me again,” you tell him sadly, speaking your thoughts. 

Brax doesn’t say more, knowing that there isn’t anything left to say and that the decision is all yours. 

“I have one condition.” You stare at him hard, and he nods easily. “It’s the last time. Anything like before happens again? We’re through and for good.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

Brax walks all the way up to you now, standing toe to toe as you uncross your arms. 

“Did you really consider going home with this Mike?” 

You utter a short laugh and just pull him in for a kiss by the lapels of his coat. 

[havokangel]

Run Boy Run - Braxton Wolff x Reader

The last thing Braxton Wolff thought he’d be doing today was killing all of his men, killing half of Moreno’s lackeys, and practically beating an old man into giving him his old pickup to make a messy escape. His nerves and reflexes are on high as he grips his blood stained gun with one hand, the other managing to stay in a single lane; much to his own shock that he’s actually capable of doing that at the moment.

He’s in the outskirts of Illinois now, and the first, coherent and rational thing that goes through his mind is: I gotta ditch this piece of shit.

Or, the one where an ex-hitman comes into your life and changes it forever - and you're trying to decide if it was for the better or the worse.

a/n; wow im back after a too long hiatus with a fic no one will read!!! anyways i hope you jon stans will appreciate this because it took a long fuckin time and i’m very proud of it. as always, please leave feedback along with a reblog if you enjoyed it! thanks babes!

tags; @alexsunmners @mvximoff @jonedwardbernthal @kteague @noccalula-writes (i cant think of anymore jon stans haha)

ao3 link

The last thing Braxton Wolff thought he’d be doing today was killing all of his men, killing half of Moreno’s lackeys, and practically beating an old man into giving him his old pickup to make a messy escape. His nerves and reflexes are on high as he grips his bloodstained gun with one hand, the other managing to stay in a single lane; much to his own shock that he’s actually capable of doing that at the moment.

He’s in the outskirts of Illinois now, and the first, coherent and rational thing that goes through his mind is: I gotta ditch this piece of shit.

The pickup he nicked from the old man is pretty much destroyed at this point. There are bullet holes in each side of it, and the back window is blown to pieces from Moreno’s men. Braxton is thanking any higher power at the moment that he’s covered by the night, and that he’ll be able to ditch the pickup and steal another car to keep on moving.

Moving. God, the word reminds him of his childhood. The word has always left a bitter taste in his mouth. He can’t even count on two hands the number of times he’s had to move. But he’s safe to assume that he was never cut out for settling down and that he can thank his fuck-up of a dad for that.

Braxton pushes thoughts of his childhood out of his head and turns his thoughts back to what’s really important at the moment: Getting rid of the car and finding a place to shack up for the night to tend to his wounds.

The car was fairly easy enough to get rid of, the only hard part being to muster up enough energy to push the piece of shit into a river on the outskirts of Illinois. Braxton is a smart man, but as he watches the pickup flow down the river, the distant voice in his head is calling him stupid, stupid, stupid.

He grits his teeth and ignores the voice, and kneels down to inventory his emergency backpack he’s always kept around for situations like this. He unzips it and pulls out everything he’s had stashed for years. It’s just the standard; a couple small tools, a map, medical gear, cash and stolen credit cards, and a few fake IDs.

He’s got enough cash to put an average man to shame, and he pats his past self on the back for planning ahead to set this amount to the side, the only irony is that Moreno was the one who had inspired him to do so.

Braxton unfolds the map and leans against a nearby tree, wincing as he moves his sore muscles. He roughly locates where he is, and drags his finger across the map to the nearest town. Liggett, Indiana.

As it’s nearing four a.m., Braxton feels as if he’s walking on pins and needles as he approaches Liggett, finally. With his backpack slung over his shoulder and dirtied clothes, he walks until he reaches a Motel that looks like its last renovation was in 1972: the perfect place for him to lay low until he’s well enough to keep on moving.

Braxton washed most of the blood off of his face back down at the river, in hopes of not being questioned or looked at funny by any of the locals. But the person at the front desk barely blinks when he flicks through his stack of cash and hands him enough for a couple nights, sliding the key over to him without question. Braxton throws an extra $50 in there for the discretion.

When he’s standing in front of the fogged up, partially moldy mirror, Braxton slowly takes off his shirt, the pain finally catching up with him as he lets out a sharp hiss from between his teeth. The bruises on his ribs he got from fighting are a nasty, vile shade of green and he wouldn’t be surprised if he had dislocated or even broken something. He turns around and looks over at his shoulder to see where a knife had caught him, stretching from his side up into the middle of his shoulder blades. Luckily Moreno’s men are fucking amateurs and it wasn’t very deep, but still, it hurts like a bitch. The last one that’s most noticeable is the one below his ear, and again, he’s lucky it’s not deeper.

After Braxton cleans up his wounds, he steps into the shower and lets the scalding hot water fall over him as he scrubs off the dirt and grime and blood. Flashes of the previous day flicker through his mind as he scrubs his arm with the scratchy washcloth and the shots still make his ears ring. His eyes squeeze shut as he leans his hand against the tile, head falling as he tries to get a grip on reality as the water falls over him.

“Solomon Grundy,” He grunts under his breath, swallowing hard. “Born on a Monday, christened on Tuesday, married on Wednesday, took ill on Thursday, grew worse on Friday, died on Saturday, buried on Sunday, that was the end of Solomon Grundy.”

For the next three days, Braxton spends his days doing something he usually doesn’t do. He gets shitfaced drunk and contemplates putting a bullet through his head. After all, that’s what should’ve happened back in Chicago. He should’ve been killed by all those men. He should’ve been six feet under right now.

At the end of his messy and hazy drunken three days, he packs his shit and steals a car at two a.m. He figures killing himself is the easy way out, and he won’t let Moreno have the satisfaction of knowing he drove Braxton to suicide. So as he’s driving through Indiana, Kentucky, Tennessee and North Carolina, he decides that he’s going to do the one thing he’s never got to do in his life: settle.

After about two weeks of driving, shitty motels and cheap vodka, Brax peek out from over his sunglasses and quickly reads the faded sign on the side of the road.

BALD HEAD ISLAND, SOUTH CAROLINA

POPULATION: 168

ENJOY YOUR STAY

Small towns are perfect for being on the down low, and out of sight from anything dramatic. He imagines in his mind the city crossing out the 168 and changing it to 169, as he drives into the quaint town. With his sunglasses low on the bridge of his nose and flicking off his radio, Braxton assesses the town as he drives. The main drag is filled with a couple of local convenience marts and gas stations, and a bar or two. Even as Braxton drives through the heart of the town, he can see where the town practically ends.

The houses range from well kept to worn down and evicted, and as he drives more towards the outskirts, he’s sure if he keeps down the dirt road there’s gotta be an abandoned cabin or two that he could settle down in. And sure enough, he’s right.

It’s about five minutes after he passed through the town and through the little forest that he parks the pickup in front of an old, worn down cabin that looks like it could be even older than him. He hops out of the car and unzips his backpack to grab his handgun. A precaution.

He knocks lightly on the front door with the barrel of the gun and waits a second for a reply, and much to his luck, there’s none. Braxton opens the door and is met with the overwhelming smell of a dead animal, which he probably should’ve expected, seeing as this house looks like shit. He covers his nose with his sleeve and does a quick walkthrough of the house, observing and taking mental notes of stuff he needs to get.

It’s a small enough cabin to fit him and keep him out of sight, which is just what he’d been looking for. The bedroom luckily enough has an old mattress and boxspring, which makes his life a little easier. Setting his backpack on the ground beside him, Braxton pads into the bathroom, which admittedly is even disgusting to him. He winces a little as he turns on the shower, which takes a good five seconds to actually run properly. Even then the water is a slight brown before it runs clear, but regardless, he strips off and bites the bullet because he’s pretty sure there’s still some dried blood on his skin.

As he lays down on the shitty and stained mattress that night, he drifts to sleep to the noise of the crickets and rustling of the trees, rather than the noisy cars and loud neighbors that he’s been used to.

As the weeks of the scorching hot summer of June in South Carolina passes, Braxton keeps himself busy by fixing up his new home.

It didn’t take long for locals to catch on to this strange newcomer, between his visits to the hardware stores and shopping marts. He debated whether or not he should use an alias, but ended up on settling with his shortened name, Brax.

As June turns into July, he successfully manages to rewire the electricity, install AC, fix the drains, paint the cabin, and build a porch that goes around the cabin. He never knew how good it felt to get something done in this sense, and it makes him forget about where he was just over a month ago.

On his last trip to the hardware store, the employees had insisted that he make a trip down to the local and only bar, for a couple drinks. He always politely declined, but after all, it has been a while since he last got to enjoy a beer. So that’s how he ends up there tonight, nursing a cold corona while bar-goers chat idly among themselves and play pool.

The easy-going vibe of the bar is suddenly disrupted, as Brax flinches at the sound of a pool stick snapping. He’s instantly on edge as he turns around to investigate, getting ready to fight if it’s Moreno and his men, but relaxes slightly as he finds it to be two locals that had one too many.

“You fuckin’ cheated!” Yelled the taller, older man as he throws the broken pool stick to the ground, fist colliding with the younger man’s cheek. “Give me my fuckin’ money!”

Brax watches this unfold as the other bar-goers just egg him on, watching as the younger man gets the life beaten out of him. He knows that this isn’t his problem and that he should just continue on with his Corona, but when the brick house of a bartender can’t even break up the fight, he huffs in annoyance and pushes up his shirtsleeves as he turns around to intervene.

It’s as easy as grabbing the older man’s shirt and tugging him back and dodging a few punches. Brax easily swings his leg in between the older man’s legs, sending him to the floor and ending it with a right hook to the jaw. He doesn’t think much of it as the bar goes silent for a second, everyone watching in shock and almost awe as Braxton flickers his gaze to the bartender and grunts,

“You gonna help me get these fuckers to the hospital or not?”

Nothing exciting ever happens in Bald Head Island Hospital. Absolutely nothing. Hell, you and Claire fight over who gets to give vaccine shots to the patients that come in on the slow days. So that’s why you get sent into a minor shock when Kev, the bartender drags in the town delinquent, Tommy, with Old Man Henry in tow by someone you haven’t seen much of in this town. Kev raises his brows as you and Claire both stand there looking shocked, and says,

“Tommy here decided to hustle Henry at the bar. Didn’t turn out so well.” He nods towards Henry being held by the stranger, who looks displeased with the two men. “I know you’re pretty slammed, but if you could just-” Kev starts to add sarcastically, as Claire interrupts him.

“Of course!” She says a little too excitedly, moving to take Tommy from Kev. “We’ll get these two patched up in no time. Wanna grab Henry?”

“Classic Claire, giving me the one with the least injuries.” You reply with a laugh, moving towards Henry and Brax. Brax watches quietly as you try to sling Henry’s arm over your shoulders, but wince at the weight of him.

“Want me to help?” He asks as you drop Henry’s arm off your shoulder, with an almost embarrassed laugh.

“Yeah, that’d be lovely, thank you. Just follow me.” You answer gratefully, grabbing your clipboard from the front desk. Brax follows silently as you lead him towards your patient room, and direct him to set Henry on the paper-lined table.

“Lord knows I couldn’t have done that myself,” you say with a bright smile, turning to offer your hand. “So thanks…..?”

“Brax,” he finishes, lips curling into a small smile, shaking your hand. “And s’no problem. Just went over there to get a drink, not listen to those guys duke it out over 10 bucks.”

You chuckle and give him your name and say, “Well you certainly gave Claire and I something to do, that’s for sure.” You tell Brax as he wipes his hands on his jeans. “Nothing exciting ever happens here.”

You pass easy conversation for a moment before Kev makes his way into the room, giving you his signature crooked smile and thanking you for “stitching up these assholes.”  Brax gives you a smile as he takes his leave, and doesn’t miss the tinge of pink that spreads across your cheeks.

As Kev and Brax walk outside to the hot, Summer air, Kev leans against the brick wall of the hospital building and pulls out a cigarette, offering one to Brax as well. He gives Kev a nod of acknowledgment and takes the lighter from Kev, taking a drag.

“Y’know, we could use an extra hand around the bar,” Kev comments after a stretch of silence, tilting his head to look at Brax. “You certainly know how to get a grip on the local drunks. No one has ever taken out ol’ man Henry like that.”

Brax huffs out an amused laugh at that, throwing the cigarette butt on the concrete and stomping it out and saying,

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Kev repeats with a grin. “We pay well. We’d pay extra for you to be a bartender and security.”

Brax glances over at Kev, who’s currently looking back at him with a raised brows and an expectant smile. He laughs softly, before asking,

“When do I start?”

Clocking off for the night, you and Claire pad into the locker room with clean clothes in tow, energy still runs through your veins as you peel off your scrubs.

“We should go get a drink!” You suggest happily, pulling on a v-neck as Claire chuckles.

“I think that’s a brilliant idea,” Claire replies as she leans down to tie her shoes. “We’d also get to check out that newcomer. Don’t think I saw you practically undress him with your eyes as he left with Kev!”

“Oh shut up!” You say with a laugh, jumping up to pull on your shorts. “All I’m going to say about it is that he practically carried Henry in here withone arm.”

Throwing her head back with a laugh, you fling a hair tie at her as she wipes her eye with her forefinger and says, “Hey, I’m not saying you should hit him up, but you should at least get his number. He seems fun.”

Those are two things that don’t mix in this town: Fun and men. Nearly all the men in this town are either old, withered down seniors that have lived here since the 40s, or in their mid-40s who make constant trips to the city to cheat on their wives. You can’t count the number of times you heard the men brag to each other about how their wife and children think they’re going on a hunting trip. The only men you give a chance in Bald Head Island are the ones passing through; mainly the college boys who buy you the expensive drinks.

When the two of you arrive at the bar, the patrons are buzzing with energy about how Old Man Henry knocked out Tommy out cold, and how (as one very hammered man stated) ‘ the little shit had it comin’.’  

Your eyes immediately fall on Brax as you walk through the doors, who’s sitting quietly on a stool in front of Kev, nursing a beer. Claire elbows you knowingly, and you shoot her a playful death glare as Kev calls both of your names with a wide smile.

“Hey everyone!” He announces, heads turning to see what Kev could be yelling about. “These fine young ladies are the ones who stitched up those two assholes! Give em’ a warm welcome!”

As the drunken cheers begin, Claire laughs loudly as you turn red and chuckle along with her. Kev smiles as he grabs two glasses, filling them to the brim with what’s considerably the nicest the bar serves, and slides them to you, saying,

“On the house. Courtesy of a very, very thankful local business owner.”

“No problem, Kev.” You laugh as you raise your glass in a mock toast, prompting Claire to giggle and clink her glass against yours. “It’s our pleasure. That’s enough action to last us a year.”

Next to you, a small huff of amusement passes through Brax’s throat. Claire nudges you with her elbow with a smile, gesturing to Brax. You raise a brow and bite back a smile, as you turn your head to look at him.

“M’not lying. That’s the most exciting a place like this gets.” You say with a chuckle, swallowing a mouthful of your drink.

“Don’t doubt that a bit.” His voice sounds like he’s considering whether or not continuing the conversation is a good idea, but he opts to pursue it a moment later. “How long have you been working there?”

Claire gives Kev a knowing look, and he smiles and challenges her to pool which coincidentally, is across the bar; leaving the two of you to talk.

“Almost three years. And in those three years, I think the only memorable night was last year when we had a hunting accident,” you explain, as he nurses his beer. “And even then, it was only a minor wound. Only took a couple stitches.”

“Sounds like a real crazy night.” He answers, lips crooking into a smile. You can feel the sarcasm in his voice, and you chuckle in response. Turning in your stool with your beer in hand, you bite back a smile.

“Let me guess,” you start off with a laugh. “You’re a city boy. You probably got loads upon loads of more exciting stories than me, because you probably were in a frat at some crazy nice university.”

The laugh he emits makes your initially tentative smile spread across your face, and he circles the beer in his hand.

“I’m a city boy, you got that part right. It’s a hard no on the last bit. Never went.”

“Coulda’ had me fooled.” You answer with a grin playing on your lips, swallowing a mouthful of beer.

“S’not like I don’t have a few exciting stories, though.” Brax answers, licking his lower lip with a smile. “Lemme tell you about this one time I met the prime minister of France.” The nonchalance in his voice makes you almost choke on your beer.

As the minutes turn to hours, you get completely absorbed into Brax’s world. He seems to have traveled the world, earning pages upon pages of stamps in his passport. With your chin resting on your palm as you lean in close to him as he tells you about his time in Bora Bora, you barely even notice nor react to his hand that rests on your knee.

“Jesus,” you say, as the bar starts to clear out. “You’re quite the world traveler, huh?”

“I don’t like to brag, but…” He says with a little smile, shoulders tugging upwards. You just chuckle and swallow the last of your beer as Brax stands to pull his wallet out of his back pocket, tossing some cash on the counter.

“Leaving so soon?” You ask with a raised brow. “And I thought we were just starting to hit it off.”

“We are, sweetheart,” He raises his hands in mock defense. “S’just getting around to asking you back to my place for a couple more drinks.” He offers his hand to you to help you stand, and your smile turns into a tiny smirk as you accept his hand.

“Good, was thinking I was gonna have to settle for the old guy with the beer gut playing pool.”

He just huffs out an amused laugh as he laces his fingers with yours, and replies with,

“M’glad my boyish charmed worked so well.”

You just throw your head back with a laugh and let him lead the way, filling the silence with idle conversations about the scorching weather and about the stars in the sky. When you reach the little path in the woods that leads to his little cabin, you can’t help but to tighten your hand in his and laugh softly.

“What’s so funny, sweetheart?” He asks with a tiny smile as if he already knows.

“Is this the part where you kill me in the woods?” You answer jokingly.

You don’t catch it, but Brax does feel a quick rush of nerve wash over him as you say that. He pauses for a second before he replies, just reminding himself that you don’t know his past: and you’re not his past, catching up with him.

“Nah,” He answers finally, the playful smile returning to his lips. “Figured I’d save that for later at my cabin.”

“Oh good, at least you can keep it classy.” You reply, as he just chuckles and swings his arm around your shoulder.

It’s not long before the path you take leads into a little clearing, where the dim lights from his front porch lights illuminate his little cabin. You give an impressive whistle as he opens the door for you, surveying your surroundings as he flicks on a few lights; illuminating his home.

“Cute place.” You say with awe, as he leads you to the kitchen. “Smells like fresh paint.”

“‘Cause it is,” Brax answers, pulling out a pair of wine glasses. “Just finished remodeling it last week.” You perch yourself on the couch and turn around to watch him pour the wine into the glasses.

“It’s really nice Brax, like, HomeGoods channel nice.” You giggle as he circles around to you, handing your glass to you with a smile.

“Is it safe to assume that my interior design skills are working just as well as my boyish charm?”

“I mean, you already got me home.” You laugh as he sits, an earnest chuckle passing his lips. “So yeah. I think it’s working pretty damn well.”

You knew from the second you saw Brax, that he could be fun. It’s been a good year since you’ve had a partner that was actually good in bed, and he was a hiker that made a pit stop in Bald Head for a couple of days. So as you and Brax flirt relentlessly and drink together, you’ve both made it quite clear that there’s a mutual attraction. So, with the courage thrumming through your veins, you look up at him with as much faux-innocence as you can muster and rest your hand on his thigh. His lips crook into a smirk as he looks down at you, slowly drinking his wine as he shifts his body just a bit closer.

Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you bite back a smirk, your hand steadily rising up his thigh, just searching for more of a reaction than what he’s giving to you. Brax remains almost indifferent to it, save for the smirk playing on his lips.

“Come on,” you can’t remember the last time you put this much effort into sounding so sultry. “We both know what we want.” As you end your sentence, Brax inhales sharply as your hand finally rests over his bulge, rubbing ever so softly.

He hums in response to your words, and you can’t help the little giggle that escapes your lips as his hand overlaps yours over his bulge, encouraging you to rub him some more. He leans forward to put his glass on the coffee table, as you kiss the curve of his jaw; feeling him harden under your hand.

You don’t get much notice before he’s leaning over you, hand cupping your jaw with a roughness that matches the rest of him; lips crashing against yours. A sharp huff of air passes through you, and he chuckles as his hand on your jaw moves to your thigh, swiftly hiking it over his hip as he pushes you against the couch. Instinctively, your arms wind around his shoulders as he grunts in approval against your mouth, hips rolling into yours.

“Yeah, bet you fucking like that,” He grunts once he pulls away from you, his hand once more finding its home on your jaw as he tilts it up, lips brushing against your pulse. “You liked teasing me, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” you answer immediately, body growing hot at his words. “I did Brax, I did.”

You don’t anticipate the way his hand suddenly moves to rest over your throat, and you certainly don’t anticipate how much you realize you like the feeling. Brax comes back up to sink his teeth into your lower lip, and you moan needily for him.

“M’gonna fuck you good, sweet girl,” he all but growls, his hand putting pressure on your throat. “You want that? You want me?”

“Yes!” Your voice almost comes out a squeak, the evidence of you being turned on becoming known. All it does is fuel the fire for him.

It’s almost a fucking blur as he picks you up like you weigh nothing at all, lips attacking yours as you whimper against his mouth. Brax all but stumbles through the hallway, stopping as you sink your teeth into his neck in a way that would be painful if he wasn’t so worked up. Your back collides with the wall almost instantly as you tug your teeth away, the picture frames on the wall shaking from the force. He pulls your hips down onto his bulge as he drags his teeth across your neck just like you had, your fingers curling in his hair with a satisfied gasp as you feel him mark up the skin there. He’s unbelievably hard against you and you’re pretty sure you’d get off just like this if he asked you too.

You give his hair a particularly hard tug to get his face away from your neck, and when those dark brown eyes meet yours you can’t help but to smirk and kiss him hard once more, pulling away only briefly to murmur bedroom.

When he kicks the door open to his bedroom, the damn wind is nearly knocked out of you as he tosses you on the mattress. You barely can say a word before his hands are on your thighs, tugging you close to the edge of the bed. He licks his lips as he deftly unbuttons your jeans, pulling them off your legs as if they were greased. Your hands find themselves gripping the lapels of his flannel, anchoring yourself to him as he runs those calloused fingers over the thin material of your panties, your back arching, and hips bucking to get some type of friction. Brax’s lips curl into a small smirk as those eyes burn into yours, his fingers rubbing your panties at your clit. You could probably cum from that alone if he kept that up, but you have a different idea in mind.

It takes a better part of your willpower to pry his hand away from your sex, bringing his hand down and under your shirt to grasp at your chest as you work on undoing his belt. His lips are insistent on yours as you toss his belt aside, hiking your legs over his hips as you tug his jeans down as much as you can before he concedes and pulls away from you to rid them himself. You take the brief window of time to toss your shirt and bra aside. Afterall, he looks like the type to get impatient, and you’d rather save a trip to the mall for another time.

He’s lurching back down to kiss you quickly before you can think too hard about the price of a new bra, and his hand is pressing your knee up as he starts to litter messy, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and collarbones. Your hand grips his hair as your jaw goes slack, all but mewling for him as the scratch of his beard leaves a faint trail of red in its wake. Those big hands of his push your knees high until they’re up and over his shoulders, and he barely gives you time to process what he’s doing before he’s licking a thick stripe over your cunt.

It’s natural, fucking raw instinct at this as your body reacts to his hot mouth on your sex, licking and sucking like it’s the last thing he’ll ever get to do on this goddamn Earth. You nearly tear his hair out when he presses his fingers inside of you, lips wrapping around your sensitive clit.

“Oh my god,” You gasp sharply, knuckles practically turning white as you grip his hair. “Fuck- Fuck Brax!”

He hums against your cunt in response, and when you finally manage to pry your eyes open to look at him between your legs; he’s looking right back up at you, and that’s what does you in. Your muscles tense and your heart races and it feels like the fucking world stops, all while Brax’s mouth eases you through your climax.

It feels like it’s fucking ages until he kisses up your stomach hurriedly, and you’re practically crushing his lips against yours. It’s open-mouthed and filthy and it’s unbelievably hot, and you find the taste of yourself way more attractive than you probably should. The next few moments are blurred as you try and pry his shirt off, conceding to letting him undress as you get what little clothing you have left on your body. It’s not long before his lips are back on yours and his hand is pressing your knee up, giving you the hint to prop it up on his shoulder as he leans back to grip his length in his hand, stroking himself to the sight of you all spread out like this underneath him.

When he presses inside of you, you really can’t help the sharp gasp that escapes your lips. The angle alone makes him feel bigger than he already is and he sure as hell isn’t giving you time to adjust. He knows you can take it.

He doesn’t even take a second to think as his forehead falls against yours and his hips begin to move, and you’re damn sure the mere sound of his hips slapping against yours is enough to get you off again. Brax is hitting deep inside of you, those deep brown eyes dilated as he stares down at you with an intensity that matches the rest of him. His hand under your knee tightens as he presses it back further, causing you to hiss through your teeth as he practically folds you in half. The look in his eye is downright fucking animalistic, pupils blown wide enough to drown out the deep brown you could lose yourself in.

Brax isn’t a gentle type of guy. You could tell from the moment you saw him. Fuck, all the guy had to do was just walk in with bloodied knuckles and you were pretty much dropping your panties at the sight of him. And in your current predicament, you didn’t even have to convince Brax to indulge you in the roughness you like - it’s like he just knows. So that’s why when those heavy hands go to your hips and he pulls out suddenly, you know he’s not gonna give it to you soft. He all but manhandles you on to your stomach, and you follow so eagerly it should be embarrassing. But it really, really fucking isn’t. He chuckles lowly to himself as you arch your ass up in the air, and one of his hands comes down to smack your ass, the slap of it ringing in your ears.

“Yeah,” he pants darkly, stroking his cock up against your folds. “Bet you fuckin’ like that, girl. C’mon, tell me what you want me to do baby girl.”

“Fuck me,”  You beg, gripping his sheets as he runs his cock over your clit. “Fuckin’ just-I need your cock in me!”

The sting of the second slap is all but welcomed as you beg incoherently for him, and another and another keep following as you run your mouth. He’s still pressing his cock against your folds, but goddamn does he like the fucking sounds you make when he smacks your ass. Brax slides a hand into your hair after he’s marked your ass up, and he tugs you up to your hands. Draping his chest over your back, you never thought 200 pounds of pure muscle could turn you on so much.

“Want you to fuckin’ tell me what you want, girl,” He growls, hand in your hair. “Tell me what you fuckin’ want.”

“You!” You all but sob out at this point, attempting to catch his lips with yours. You don’t give a shit if you sound like a pathetic pornstar, voice three octaves higher. You want him. “I need you to make me cum, Brax!”

When he finally kisses your lips, you kiss him hard for as long as you can before the hand in your hair grips the back of your neck and presses your face against the pillow. His calloused hands grip your hips as he slides in again easily, thanks to how wet you became from his hands slapping your ass.

His sheer strength is shown as he uses your hips to thrust into you, bringing your hips back against his cock fast and hard to give you what you want. Your helpless little whimpers are muffled by his sheets and everything around you feels white-hot, like nothing else fucking matters in the world besides him and the way he’s growling all the things that will get you off for nights to come.

Brax grunts something incoherent before he’s wrapping one of those strong arms around your waist, fingers rolling your clit hard between his fingers. He’s murmuring cum cum cum over and over again against your ear, and the white-hot sensation you’d been feeling since you started fucking Brax only intensified.

As your body clenches and tightens around Brax, the profanities that spill out your mouth come out as cries and sobs as he continues to roll your clit between his fingers, making the aftershocks of your climax intensified. With all the strength that you can muster, you move your hand to grip his wrist and bring it up to your mouth, sucking desperately at his fingers.

“ Fuck,” He growls, pressing his fingers against your tongue. “Such a nasty fuckin’ thing for me.” He lets out a brief chuckle as you skim your teeth across his knuckles, before his hips start picking up speed again.

You can’t really resist it as you bite down a little harder on his fingers, because hey, he’s no stranger to pain. He hisses slightly through his mouth as his hips almost falter, and he slides his fingers out of your mouth to hold your throat lightly. Your smirk turns into another moan at what he has to say to you.

“M’gonna cum, where do you want it?”

“Mouth, my mouth. Please.”

Quicker than you can even process, Brax is flipping you onto your back like you’re a fucking ragdoll and he’s straddling your chest, your hands gripping the sides of his ass as he slides himself into your mouth with ease, hissing through his teeth as you swallow and suck at his cock, wanting to get the taste of his cum on your tongue.

When you gag and swallow around his length, he grits his jaw and he lets out a breath of air he was holding in as he cums in your mouth. He pulls out after a second, watching how you almost bat your eyelashes at him as a string of spit and cum connects your mouth. Panting as he comes down from his orgasm, he nearly gets hard again watching you smile innocently and lick your lips like you hadn’t just deepthroated him. Cupping your jaw as he looks down at you, he pushes some of the cum and spit on your chin past your lips with his thumb, and smirks hazily as you suck on it obediently.

“Goddamn girl, you really are fuckin’ somethin’, aren’t you,” He groans tiredly, popping his thumb from your mouth. All you do is laugh as you rub your hands on his hips softly as you retort,

“You fuckin’ like it. Don’t lie.”

He just slides his hand down to your throat and he squeezes gently with a grin before he finally rolls off of you, lying on his back as the two of you finally get a chance to get some air without the other being flush against each other.

It’s a sharp contrast to moments earlier, you think to yourself. Only ten minutes ago you were practically sobbing against the sheets, bodies covered in a thin layer of sweat as he pounded into you, the only sound being your curses and hips hitting one another. Now, it’s quiet, the only sound being the crickets outside, and the thrumming of your pulse in your ears.

The ache between your legs is a signal to get up and pee, but you’re almost too timid to break the silence that’s between the two of you, waiting for the other to say something. You haven’t gotten laid in a long time, let alone in a way like that which literally makes you question your ability to even look him in the goddamn eye.

When you finally pep talk yourself into sneaking a peek at Brax, you feel almost as breathless as you were when he was balls deep in you. The room is only lit by the moonlight streaming through the window, and the silhouette of him next to you is a fucking sight. With the outline of his beard and chest rising and falling slowly, he tilts his head to look back at you, making you look away: suddenly feeling shy, which is fucking stupid considering the circumstances.

“You need somethin’ sweetheart?” Goddamn. His voice is basically an octave lower than it was at the bar, which is stupidly attractive.

“Yeah-yeah. Where’s your bathroom? Probably should pee.” You finally manage to say with a breathless laugh. He just chuckles quietly and points you in the right direction, sending you on your way.

Splashing some cold water on your face, you sigh sleepily as you lean against the sink to figure out your next move. Do you awkwardly leave? Do you make conversation? Do you fall asleep in his bed? Fuck knows what’s gonna happen next, so you just flip off the water and tug on your shirt and panties, and smooth out your hair before you quietly pad back into his room, only to find it empty. With a momentary frown, you’re about to just start getting undressed before you freeze when you hear quiet music playing from the living room. Smiling a little to yourself, you toss your jeans on to his bed before you go to the source of the music, only to find Brax in his briefs, putting his old Zepplin record sleeve back into the shelf it was in.

“I like this song, but I’m more of a Pink Floyd girl myself.” You say with a little smirk as you lean against the wall. He turns his head to look back at you with a grin and he says,

“You hungry or somethin’? I got more food. And wine.”

Walking towards him with that faux-innocence he likes a little too much, you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and you brush your lips against his and say,

“I’d like that.”

Needless to say, it only takes another glass of wine (or two) before you find yourself tangled up in his sheets once more, being fucked senseless, without caring about what the consequences could be for the following morning.

[roguesandsaviors]

Commented on AO3, but have to reblog with a comment too. So try to do something a little different. I liked that she gave it back to Brax as much as he gave to her. Feels like that is something that is needed with his personality. Keeps things interesting between them. Yeah, I wouldn't be looking anywhere else beside that man if I had him. Again, there is just not enough Brax content out there so thank you for making a contribution and sharing it with us all. We are lucky!! ❤️❤️

mad, mad, mad |  Braxton x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit  Words: 2,265  Additional Tags: Angst and Porn, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Name-Calling, Biting, Angry Sex, Sex, Brax is a jerk, Reader is a biter, Established Relationship, Female Reader, Smut

Summary: The buzz you had going, for the most part of the evening, has already worn off by the time you arrive home – way later than usual –  after having gone out for drinks with a couple friends from work.

Brax is not supposed to be back until tomorrow, that’s why, when you turn on the switch of the floor lamp and find him sitting quietly in the armchair, that your heart almost jumps out of your chest before realizing that it’s him.

“Jesus, Braxton.” You bring your palm to your mouth, watching him shift on the seat, crossing a leg over the other, and leaning back casually without messing up his neat suit. “Were you just sitting there in the dark the whole damn time?”

“What? Did I scare you?”

[Read at AO3]