#poker club playing cards | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-froschamethyst4 · 4 months

Text

Big Dick Energy

𖤐Pairing: Mafia! Alejandro x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: smut, language, eating out, P in V, fingering, blowjob, smoking, drinking, flirting, tatted up Alejandro, married couple, mention of nudity, drunk love, dirty nickname (slut),

𖤐Summary: Alejandro was cruel and he just gives off big dick energy, I mean you should know, you’re his wife, so how big is it?

————

————

Alejandro sat on a velvet red couch watching people dance around in his club. He hated these people, they came, they go, what can you do, but he hates the people that only use him.

He swirls his glass around and looks at the man talking to him from the corner of his eye, he hated this guy. He always got on Alejandro's nerves, every little thing.

"God don't you ever shut up?" Alejandro mumbled to himself, the guy wouldn't have heard Alejandro, the music was too loud.

"I mean come on, I should have won my bet, but of course that stupid card had to take it all away," all Alejandro knew this guy was talking about poker.

He couldn't give two flying shits about poker, Alejandro is running an empire here, he makes money all on his own and along with hiring some people, he doesn't need to waste his time on stupid betting games.

He already owns a club that makes millions when he's here or not. He looks on the dancefloor to see someone, his wife. She liked to join Alejandro when he comes to the club for business. Tonight was like any other night, he did his job and she danced and had fun.

Everyone knew not to mess her because if they did, Alejandro would have their head and heart on a silver plater.

Her body glide across the dancefloor as she had fun, Alejandro kept a close eye on her. Y/n made eye contact with her husband slowly moving off the dancefloor and walking towards him, her hips moving from side to side.

She moves closer to him and sat on his lap, he just looked up at her his hand moving to her bare thigh.

"Can you go?" He asks the guy next to him.

"Me? I-I guess," the guy left and Alejandro looked at Y/n giving her a smile, his left hand going to her cheek cupping it and kissing her jaw.

"You look so beautiful," he says kissing her jaw some more.

"I know you told me before we left the house," she giggles.

"Y/n..." she looks down at him.

"Yes?"

"We should head home...I'm tired here, bored here, let's go home," he says. She got off his lap and he grabbed her hand pushing through the crowd and heading to the front doors, pulling them open and a black McLaren pulled up, the valet got out of the car and gave Alejandro his keys.

He opens the door for Y/n and she gets in. He drove them home, his hand rested on her thigh and the other gripping the stirring wheel. Y/n played with his big fingers as she looks out of the window watching the buildings pass by.

"Did you have fun?" His voice broke the silence.

"Yeah, I did, I didn't get a chance to drink though."

"I'll make you something at home," he says.

"Good," she smiles at him.

--------

Once home Alejandro helped Y/n out of his car and they headed inside the mansion. Alejandro twirled Y/n around her heels in his hand and a big smile on his face.

Alejandro always kept his heart close to the world and never thought he will EVER find love, he deemed it as impossible for himself to ever find love or fall in love.

Once he met Y/n his heart was open and he fell in love, he married her a year after they started dating and the wedding happened within a week, Alejandro wanted everything perfect for her and once married, Alejandro and Y/n wanted their time together before the thought of children ever come into their lives.

Y/n plops on the couch kicking her feet onto the coffee table and Alejandro went to the bar pouring her a mixed drink. She fluffs up her hair and then took the drink from her husband.

"Thank you, love."

"Anything for you, mi amor (my love)," he kisses her lips, holding her chin and started to briefly make out.

"Alejandro, please..." she says as his lips attacked her neck. She brings the glass to her lips taking a sip of the drink.

Alejandro then stops and starts pulling at his tie and unbuttoning his shirt completely showing off his toned body. She smiles at him, placing her drink down on the coffee table and she starts moving to his pants.

Unbuckling his pants and unbuttoning his pants as well. She gets a full view of his bulge in her face. She licks her lips as she looks up at him, gently kissing his bulge and slowly moving her hand up to his boxers next, but he holds her wrist from stopping her from going any further which made her groan.

"Come on, baby," she says, looking up at him.

"You'll have your fun in a little bit," he says, kissing her lips. "First off, I'm fucking hungry, you want anything?" he asks, before walking to the kitchen.

"I want you," she pleads.

"No, food," he says as he opens the fridge.

"Fine," she groans rolling off the couch and grabbing her drinks and she walks to the kitchen. "I want spaghetti," she says.

"Alrighty then," he says, grabbing noodles, two pots and some sauce.

"Can I help with anything?" She asks.

"Just sit there and look pretty, I got this," he says, cupping her face and kissing her lips again.

And she did just that, sitting on the marble counter, her short dress riding up to her thighs exposing a bit of her lacy underwear, she crosses her ankles leaning forward as her hands were planted on the counter.

"Can I try the sauce?" Alejandro usually made it homemade.

"Sure, mi amor," he dips the spoon in and brings it to her mouth.

"Good, very good, like usual," she says, kissing his lips.

"I'm glad, I didn't do anything different but I get worried that I may have missed an ingredient or something."

"It probably would still be good anyways," she smiles getting off the counter and hugging his waist.

After a while Alejandro and Y/n were eating dinner at their dinner table, Alejandro was drinking whiskey as Y/n was drinking wine like usual. Alejandro just stares at Y/n as she eats.

"Do I have something on my face?" She asked, taking the napkin and going around her mouth, all she got off was some lipstick.

"Nah, nothing, you're just so...sexy."

"You're a flirt."

"I'm your flirt," he smirks, leaning on his palm and still staring at her.

Alejandro then smirks before sliding down his chair and he's never done this before but crawled to Y/n's legs that were crossed, when he gets to her knees, his rough and calloused hands touching her made her jump.

"A-Ale-" she was soon cut off by his tongue licking a stripe up her wet panties. She tossed her head back and her fingers started to go through his soft hair.

"F-Fuck," she moans as he hooks his fingers around the helm of her panties and pulled hem down taking them off and licking between her wet folds now.

Her legs wanted to close so badly but his hands were holding her thighs open, she whines and grips his soft hair. Her right hand went to his hand holding open her legs. His large tatted hand made her look so small.

Alejandro then looks up at her through his long sweaty hair, she moans and leans her back, Alejandro then proceeds to move his mouth causing her to groan.

Alejandro smirks licking his fingers and then sticking them inside of her and his mouth went back around her lower half licking at her bud, and moving his fingers quickly in and out of Y/n.

She could feel herself about to cum soon, Alejandro smirks moving his mouth again and this time just his fingers.

"Come on, mi amor, come on," he groans moving his fingers faster in and out of her, she was a moaning mess. She ended up coming on his fingers, he smirks before licking her clean and then picking her up.

Taking her up to their shared bedroom, placing her on the bed, he lifts up the bottom of her dress and takes it off her completely. He smirks seeing her breasts on full display for him, she smiles and her face is a little heated up from embarrassment.

"Don't feel embarrass, amor, we've done it before."

"I know," she says, running her hands down her thighs feeling how smooth and soft they were. Alejandro started to unbutton the rest of his shirt and she helps him unbuckle his pants.

He looks down at her when his dick sprung out of his pants. Y/n licks her lips and then kisses his tip, he tosses his head back, hand going behind her head. Her mouth now around him, in a way of repaying him.

He smirks knowing how good his wife is. She looks up at him, she sits on her knees, hands on his thighs and her nose sometimes touching his lower stomach, he moans.

"God, you're s-so good at this," he says, licking the corner of his mouth and smirking down at her. Alejandro knows he's big, and thick, and he also knows Y/n can take him like it's nothing.

He doesn't want to say he 'trained' her to take his cock, but he did. She's gotten so use to him that taking him was no problem whatsoever.

"God, you are such a slut, taking me so well," his hand cupped under her chin as she continued to suck him off. She moved her mouth and starts pumping him quickly. She opens her mouth as cum squirts from his tip into her mouth.

"Fuck, mi amor," he says.

He lays in the middle of the bed, legs semi spread, arms resting on the headboard of the bed, Y/n looking at him between his legs. Before anything else starts, Alejandro leaned over into his nightstand drawer and pulled out a cigarette lighting it and then looking back at Y/n.

"Come on, amor, one more," he says, she crawls on top of him. Taking his dick and aligning it at her entrance. She slowly sinks herself onto his dick, slowly bouncing at first.

Her hands resting on his shoulders, his cigarette going between his lips and his hands holding her waist helping her pick up the pace just a bit.

Her moans tossing her head back her body had collapsed on his chest, he smirks and then sits back up looking at him now.

"Am I-I going to fast?"

"Amor, go as fast or slow as you need," he says, moving the cigarette from his lips tapping the burnt end into his little ash tray next to the bed and proceeding to kiss her neck.

Y/n didn't mind the smoking, she lowkey thought it was hot, and sexy, he didn't do it all the time which also made Y/n not mind it.

She starts to move fast, Alejandro smirking when hearing her moans come from her lips. He leans forward taking her lips into his, it became a heated make out session now.

Alejandro cupping her face, and kissing her lips. His rough hands held her waist and his tongue soon passed her lips. Y/n moved her mouth to be able to breath now, his lips attacked her neck. His hands cupping her breasts.

Y/n looks down at the cigarette and taking it from his fingers and putting it in her mouth, Alejandro knew she didn't smoke and it caught him by surprise when she took it and blew out smoke with no issue.

"Amor?"

"You have shitty taste in cigarettes," she said through a slightly disgusted look.

"But I have good taste in women," he says, laying Y/n on her back taking back is cigarette putting it back between his lips and starts picking up the pace. Her arms go around his neck, and he leans down taking her left nipple into his mouth suckling on her and flicking her bud with his tongue.

"G-God, I'm g-going to cum," she moans.

"Do it, amor, I can feel you squeeze around me," he says, putting his head back.

She let's out another moan before she felt herself coming, Alejandro sits up placing his hand on her lower stomach feeling his dick bulge in her. He then ends up coming inside of her.

----------

Alejandro was against the headboard and holding Y/n against his body. He put his cigarette out and rubbed Y/n's waist.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

"Yes," she says back, bring up the blanket over her shoulders.

Her naked body, was so warm while his was burning hot. Alejandro looks down at Y/n rubbing her soft body with his rough hands, she looks up at him.

"What?"

"Nothing...I just want to hold you for a little bit," he says, before kissing the top of her head.

Y/n smiles up at him.

"I love you."

"I love you too, mi amor."

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #fandom #fanfic #call of duty #mw2 #cod #alejandro vargas x female reader #alejandro mw2 #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro x reader #alejandro cod #alejandro vargas

346 notes · View notes

zeltqz · 11 months

Note

hohihiwhshwh i have a request where y/n is the girlfriend of a rival gang leader but doesn’t treat her right but then ran is interested in her that way with rindou and sanzu banter about

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈ temptations | haitani ran ◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

pairing. tokyo manji!ran x fem!reader

word count. 8.1k

contents. gold digger!reader, toxic relationship (not with ran), misogynistic views, infidelity, reader's boyfriend is a gambling addict, possessive boyfriend. NSFW contents. dirty thoughts, fantasising, fingering, squirting, multiple orgasms, safe sex, oral (both)

The room was polluted with cigarette smoke, flashy lights and far too much testosterone for you to handle without feeling uncomfortable. It was hard to keep your poker face as you sipped on your glass of water, sitting lonely, by yourself on a plush l-shaped couch in the corner of the room.

There was boredom written all over your face as you watched your boyfriend lose at snooker over and over and over again. With each loss of the game came a loss of money. Honestly you’ve lost count with his losses, rolling your eyes every time he curses loudly and makes a scene of throwing the stick at someone’s head for laughing at how much money he’s lost tonight.

He’s surrounded by his friends, none of which you cared enough to remember their names. All you know is they’re gambling obsessed horny fucks that don’t respect your boundaries when your boyfriend isn’t around.

Being the only girl in the room is awkward enough and it feels like a slap in the face when you spot other women in the room, a small glimmer of hope flashing your face as you desperately try to make eye contact with then—hoping they can use that telepathic sense all women seem to have when it comes to each other—only for them to glance at you briefly, then ignore you and walk away.

At this point you’re so lonely you’ll handle even talking to men but they also make a conscious effort not to talk to you. It’s hard making friends when you have such a possessive boyfriend like Kozo; he’s practically barking at anyone that even bothers to approach you, not liking other men close to his property .

It’s like Kozo’s playing a constant game, getting you all dolled up and pretty, dangling you in front of other men at the club to grab their attentions, then the poor men who’ve fallen for the trap would get dragged outside by their collars and beat into a pulp on the streets for touching what’s his.

It was a daily routine for you. Kozo would come to the club every Friday, bring you along for pointers and soaks in the attention you receive from his friends as they brag about how much of an eye candy you were. You knew you were nothing but a prize in his eyes, nothing but an accessory Kozo wears to make himself feel better. They gamble, play games, smoke, do drugs in the clubs and you sit on the nice couch for hours and watch Kozo win money.

Why are you with him, your friends wonder? Probably for the money. He was…nice to you on occasion, whenever he was in a good mood and he’d fuck you like he meant it, even counting in your pleasure. But those times were rare; the main reason you stay is because he takes you on a shopping spree with the money he wins from gambling, buying you nice jewellery, clothes, pays for your nails.

You liked getting dolled up, he liked seeing you dolled up. The relationship was nothing but transactional. You came to that realisation that you had no feelings for him the day you came back from the bathroom and saw him with another girl, his arm around her waist as she hyped him up at the card table to win. You examined it for a moment, your presence practically invisible to all the men, and just wondered why you weren’t feeling angry that he’s practically got his hands on another woman. You watched deep in thought for what felt like five minutes and the only thing on your mind was if you’re still going on that shopping spree on Saturday.

For the record, you did.

And it was fun.

The ball gets hit into one of the holes and Kozo yells at the top of his lungs, loud enough to startle you; you watch the opposing team manhandle each other in a way that’s just so masculine , aggressive back and shoulder slaps that look like they sting.

Your expensive presence caught the eye of a creep at the bar. Glancing in his direction, he looked twice your age, grey hairs marking his hair and beard and wearing a very creepy smile on his face, cigarette bobbing from his lips as he eyed you down with what he probably thinks is an attractive face. You know his type. Being at these bars all the time, you had time to analyse everyone and what types of men come to these bars.

There’s the occasional addicts: drug, gambling or alcohol addicts that come here to fuel their needs, then there’s the creeps like him, looking old enough to be your father but crave young, attractive girls in their early 20’s to spend all their money on. Then there’s the rich men that come through once every month or so.

You’ve caught a glimpse of them a few times and there’s this one man that caught your eye many times, but he’s never looking in your direction. It hurts your ego a little bit, but you remember you’re in a relationship with a loyal (?), loving (??), giving—very much giving($)—boyfriend.

Kozo looks in your direction for what seems like the first time in two hours and sees your eyes are staring at the creep. His face scrunches up when he glances over to the guy at the bar.

“Hold my stick,” he grits out, slamming it firmly into his friends chest and rolls up his sleeves as he walks up to the bar. “Oi.” He slams his hand down on the bar top loud enough for everyone to stop doing what they’re doing and look over at the scene. “You got a staring problem?”

“What?” The guy puts his cigarette down. “No—no. I wasn’t looking at you—”

“Nah. Not at me. My girl .”

“Your…” The man tries to get another look at you before Kozo’s hand is on his chin, gripping it hard and redirects his gaze back to him.

“You’re really gonna look at her again while I’m here? Bold aren’t you.” Kozo cackles, slaps him on the back hard, ignores his yelp and leans in towards his ear, voice dropping dangerously low and whispers, “Meet me outside.”

From your seat across the room you could tell where this was heading and quickly stood up. Kozo looked positively murderous right now and you didn’t feel like running from the police tonight. Being the good samaritan you were, you stood up and walked over to Kozo, holding his arm tight.

He snaps his head back to look at you. “What?”

“I wanna go home.”

“Really?” He lets go of the man’s shirt and turns all 5’10”of him around to face you. “I haven’t won enough money yet baby. Don’t you want that new dress you were telling me about?”

“I do…but…” You bit your lip, stepping closer to him. “I wanna go home.”

“Whatever, you’ll live,” he grumbles, waving your concern away and nods back towards the couch. “Go sit down. I’ll be done soon.”

You attempt to plead at him with your eyes once more since your words clearly weren’t getting to him but his gaze was ice cold, unwavering, and you could see how serious he was about this.

This wasn’t a battle you could win, you knew that and you accepted defeat, shoulders slumping as you walked back over to the couch. Fifteen more minutes pass and they’re doing more talking than gambling at this point.

Kozo managed to hit the 8-ball too early and out of anger tossed his stick half way across the room, the impact snapping it in half as it hit the wall. Now they were waiting for another stick.

Guess no shopping spree this weekend, you thought. Kozo was losing badly.

“You might as well resign out now, Kozo. Better to leave broke but with your ego in tact.”

“I’m not fucking broke,” Kozo snaps, his bubbling anger slowly starting to spill out.

You can tell he’s one snarky comment away from losing it and you need to get him out of here before he hurts someone. The last time he was in a bad mood he took it out on a random man waiting in line at the club and you could do nothing but watch from the sidelines as he beat the man half to death.

Kozo’s anger is something that scares you, and also another factor that stops you from leaving him. He’d never lay his hands on you though, he doesn’t want anyone touching his property, even including himself. You’re too precious to be bruised. But that didn’t mean you were safe if you ever broke up with him, since you won’t be his property by then.

Too deep in your thoughts, you fail to notice him walking over to the couch.

“Get the fuck up,” Kozo frowns down at you. When you don’t move fast enough for his liking, he snaps. “I said get the fuck up !” He forcefully lifts you from the couch, squeezing your forearm in a tight grip that has you wincing, trying to pull him off.

“Kozo you’re hurting me—”

“Didn’t you wanna fuckin’ go? Let’s go .”

“I’m coming, okay! Just let go,” you whine, grabbing his hand, trying to pry it off your skin.

Once he let go, you clear your throat and move closer to him. In an attempt to calm him down, you run your hands up and down his chest, cuddling up to him.

“Are you okay?”

The soft whisper of your voice did wonders to calm him, and he exhales heavily.

“Yeah.” He kisses your forehead. “Sorry for snapping at you baby. I’m just…pissed off.”

You hum; your hands moving around his back and rubbing there. “It’s okay to get pissed. Just don’t get too upset. Control your temper, remember?”

He nods. “Yeah. I know.”

You pull away and wipe your sweaty hands on the back of your dress. “Alright, let’s go.” He pulls you towards the door.

“Oi, Kozo.” Kozo pauses by the door, looking over his shoulder.

“If you play one more round you can win your money back.”

Kozo wrinkles his nose. “Nah. Pass. My girl’s tired anyway. Gotta take her home.” He pulls you closer to his side and kisses the side of your face. Kozo was about to begin walking again before the guy at the table spoke up.

“That so? I’ll double it then.”

The mention of double the money had Kozo freezing on the spot. His body weight along was enough to make you recoil back to his side when you continued walking.

“Double, huh?” Kozo smirks and you panicked at the interest dripping from his voice.

“No no no, Kozo baby he’s bluffing. I wanna go home,” you said, trying to get his attention back on you and away from the world of gambling and addiction.

Kozo let go of your hand and your heart sank to the floor. He walked over to the table and you wandered back over to the couch, standard procedure as usual. Right now, you could only hope he wins because if he loses for the second time and embarasses himself, it’ll be ten times harder to get him to cool down.

Ten minutes in, the couch dipped and look to your right at the gentleman that sat down next to you. “You look like you’re having fun,” he drawls out in a low, smooth voice.

Your eyes meet his own and you spotted a hint of teasing in them. The shade wasn’t anything you’d seen before, and you couldn’t take your eyes off his.

The silence stretches out far too long to be considered normal and then you remember he was looking at you because he asked you a question.

“Oh. Yeah. I am.” You gave a noncommittal shrug to your already non-committal answer and sunk deeper into the couch. “I’m great.”

Judging by the bland tone of your voice, he had a feeling you were lying. His head tilts to the side to get a better look at your side profile as you kept staring straight ahead, glaring daggers at Kozo.

He readjusts himself in his seat, turning to face you. “Whatsa matter?”

You turn to look at him, your eyebrows pinched together in annoyance. “Do I know you?”

He grins, boyish and charming, and for a moment you regret your tone. “I’m Ran. You?”

Before you could say your name, a shadow falls over your face as Kozo stands over you, his eyes hard and seething as he glares at Ran.

“That’s my girl.”

It takes Ran a few seconds before he’s looking away from you and onto Kozo, curling his eyebrow at Kozo. “That’s nice. What’s that gotta do with me though?”

“Stop talking to her?”

Ran glances at you, looking embarrassedly down at your lap. He decides to stand up, trying not to smile as Kozo’s shoulders slump downwards, watching in real time as his ego deflates to negative levels as Kozo realises the height difference.

“She can answer for herself, can’t she?” Ran asks, cocking his head at Kozo.

This was probably the first time you saw someone stand up to Kozo and you couldn’t help but feel intrigued, readjusting in your seat to get a better angle of these two men fight over you.

Kozo’s eyes narrow slightly, too irritated to come up with a response.

Ran turns to look at you; your breath catches in your throat at the eye contact.

“What’s your name?” he asks again. Your eyes slide over to Kozo but Ran tuts, shaking his head disapprovingly. “I’m asking you sweet thing, not him.”

The pet name had Kozo’s nose flaring, temper rising to impossibly hot and you could tell he was two seconds away from murder. Regardless of that, you smile, shift your entire body to face Ran and tell him your name.

Ran’s smile turns wolfish before he sits down heavily beside you, even closer than before, his knees practically touching yours.

“That wasn’t so hard,” he looks smugly over at Kozo, “was it?”

Kozo’s fists tighten as he watches Ran raise his arm to rest along the back of the couch, his hand barely brushing your shoulder. He sighs, closes his eyes to control his temper and lowers his voice to sound softer, more approachable and says, “What do you want Ran?”

Ran shrugs. “Just being friendly and a good host. She seems pretty lonely by herself here.”

Kozo’s eyes narrow. “Go be friendly somewhere else.”

“You forgetting who owns this club Kozo?” Ran sings Kozo’s name as he asks the question; you notice Kozo’s eyebrow twitch at Ran’s tone.

“Are you threatening me Haitani?”

“Threats? Nah. Never that. ‘M better than that. My dad on the other hand…he’s not as kind as me when it comes to threats or kicking people out of his club.”

Kozo glares at Ran’s annoyingly smug face for a few more seconds before realising he cannot stand the sight of it anymore.

“Want me gone so badly? Fine then.” Just like before, he yanks you upright by your arm, making you wince loudly. “We’re heading home now.”

Ran grabs Kozo’s hand effortlessly and all but rips it off your arm, then tugs you back down to the couch next to him.

“I don’t appreciate you grabbing her like that.” His eyes were serious whilst his tone was playful. From this angle you couldn’t see Ran’s face clearly, only getting a good view of his side profile as he looks up at Kozo, but considering the way Kozo stiffens slightly as he stares at Ran’s face you could tell he was intimidated.

“It was a joke Haitani…jeez get a sense of humour. I don’t normally grab her like that. Chill.” Ran didn’t look impressed and Kozo swallows, nervously. “Okay…I won’t grab her like that again.” Kozo turns towards you, his voice softening a bit. “Come on baby. I’ll take you home now.”

This time, he grabs your hand as soft as he can and lifts you from the couch, making a show of readjusting your dress from when it rid up your thighs and heads towards the exit. You look back at Ran once last time, mouthing “thank you” with a small wiggle of your fingers, waving goodbye at him before disappearing from the room.

Ran exhales and leans his head back against the couch, closing his eyes when his brother sits down next to him.

“There a reason you’re picking a fight with Kozo today or what?” Rindou asks, taking a sip of his drink.

“Do I need a reason? What if I was just bored?” Ran peeks an eye open at his brother who was looking at him unimpressed.

“What was the reason,” Rindou repeats, his tone indicating a direct answer asap. Ran doesn’t respond instantly and Rindou fiddles with his cup, moving it around to watch the liquid splash around. “It has nothing to do with that girl right?”

Ran stays quiet and Rindou scoffs. “Jesus christ.”

Ran laughs and shrugs. “What’s the problem? Can I not talk to girls anymore?”

“Single girls sure. You know how weird Kozo gets about that girl. The amount of dudes he’s beat up for even staring at her is wild,” Rindou says, reminding his brother of Kozo’s possessiveness as a warning, but Ran only takes it as a challenge.

“Yeah whatever.”

Rindou knows Ran isn’t fully listening, only digesting whatever he wants to hear to satisfy himself. “If you piss Kozo off, Dad’ll be angry. He comes here a lot and it’ll be a loss of money if he stops coming. Just…don’t do anything stupid.”

With that, Rindou stands up and left when Sanzu calls him over to play a round. Ran watches the two for a second, then begins thinking of his next move.

Meanwhile, Kozo slips into the front seat of his car after putting in more gas and turns to look at you, staring out the window staring into the night sky. He places his hand on your thigh to grab your attention.

“Baby,” he says softly, waiting for you to meet his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Stay away from Haitani, okay? He’s…weird…alright?” For the first time in forever, Kozo doesn’t feel any anger inside him and you feel like you’re looking at a totally different person, one that actually looks worried for your safety which is funny considering all the risky situations he’s put you in.

“Weird how?”

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. Just promise me you’ll stay away from him.” He reaches out and grabs your hand. You meet his eye and see him staring intensely at you, awaiting your response.

“...okay, I will.”

The next time Kozo attends the club, he takes you with him as usual, standard procedure. It’s been a month since you’ve last been here, sitting on the same couch but you instantly slip back into routine, sipping on your water because Kozo refuses to let you drink without him next to you.

Instead of snooker, this time Kozo decides to waste his money on another game called roulette, watching intently while trying to figure out the odds, never touching the table itself except to place his bets. There’s a man at the other end who spins the wheel, successfully taking Kozo's attention away from you completely. Sometimes you honestly wonder if he remembers you're still here with how hard he ignores your existence.

Still though, it gives Ran plenty of opportunities to stare at you, wondering what Kozo would say if he saw him doing so. Rindou's words ring in his mind momentarily and he's about to stop himself from approaching you when you shift on the couch a little, the movement exposing your leg again and for some reason, this only fuels Ran’s desire to look at you.

He can't explain why exactly; it just makes him want to reach out and grab your legs, pull them closer to his body and let his lips run up the length of your legs until they reached the perfect spot.

He glances over at Kozo across the room once more; he's not even paying attention to you. Perfect.

With that, Ran strolls over towards your couch from behind. Your back is against the couch and he bends down, resting his arms along the back of the couch and speaks into your ear, "Sitting by yourself again?"

You jump at the sound of his voice right by your ear and let out a soft gasp, flushing hot before smiling. “Don't scare me like that!" you clutch a hand over your heart, letting out a giggle.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.” His voice is deep and sexy, accentuated by the smirk he wears on his face as his lips brush the shell of your ear again. The hand that had clutched at your heart slowly falls to rest on your knee and you shiver at the contact.

"It's okay," you say in a quiet voice, trying to ignore the way your chest feels when he brushes against you. "I was actually starting to get bored." You smile and turn your head slightly to meet his eyes.

"Missed me did you?" He rests his chin on his arms folded on the couch, grinning widely.

"A bit," you admit, trying to look away but your eyes are magnetised to his face. A smile creeps across his lips and you know he's about to say something cocky.

"Then why'd you wait a month to come back here? I figured you'd want to visit me as soon as possible."

His words carry a certain arrogance about them, his smile revealing his intentions. If you didn't already know better, you'd think he wanted to get you into bed tonight. You squeeze your legs together at the thought, then your blood runs cold at the fact that Kozo hasn't even looked your way once during the entire conversation.

If you weren't so turned on by Ran's presence right now, Kozo's lack of care towards you would have bothered you.

"Who says I didn't want to visit?" you tease back, turning to face him fully, your leg shifting further on the couch.

"Then why didn't you?" With every word, he's shifting closer to you. Your thighs press together involuntarily when his eyes drop to your lips briefly.

"I kinda have a guard dog boyfriend," you say with a coy smile, looking at him with an almost teasing gaze, attempting to hide your obvious desire for him.

Ran looks past your body over at said guard dog boyfriend, Kozo's attention still focused entirely on the roulette game. He is rubbing his chin thoughtfully, eyes focused on nothing but the game. Ran has no idea how this guy could fumble so badly; he has a fine girl sitting on a couch and he’s busy winning money.

Your eyes never left his face when Ran looks away from Kozo back at you and you shoot him an awkward smile. “By the way I didn’t have the chance to tell you this last time but thank you.”

“For what?” Ran asks, backing away from your face to create a little distance and stands up straight, resting his hands along the back of the couch.

You look up at him, the height difference making your neck ache. “For defending me in front of him. It felt…nice. Thank you.”

Ran hides his surprise well and nods, unsure of what to say in the face of someone so sincere for doing the barest of minimums. He never considers himself a good boyfriend, having only had two girlfriends his entire life that never lasted longer than four months. He realised dating wasn’t for him but he knows for a fact he’s a better boyfriend than the shitty one on your arm. Honestly you deserved better, not only treatment wise but looks wise too.

Kozo isn’t ugly by any means but he’s average. Just average. In Ran’s eyes at least. Looking at you though, all dolled up tonight, dressed in what looks like an expensive dress, showing just the right amount of skin to drive him crazy. How Kozo’s attention is on a game rather than you makes no sense to Ran whatsoever. Even Ran’s hands are tingling to just touch the sides of your waist and thighs; they look so welcoming and have just enough space for him to slot his entire hand onto your thigh.

“Are you done staring?” you say, snapping Ran out from his stupor. His eyes were dreading to look away from your body to your face but he met your eyes, staring at him with those eyes of yours all shiny under the lights.

“You giving me permission to stare more?” Ran asks, smirking.

You try to hide your smile by looking down at your lap. After composing yourself, you look back up at him. “Flirting with me when my boyfriend is right over there?”

“Who said I’m flirting with you?” He rounds the couch and sits down heavily next to him, his colonge wafting in your direction. He smells so expensive you struggle to focus on anything but him.

He looks lazily at you with half-lidded eyes, and you felt your body tempertaure rising by the second, wondering if someone turned off the AC in the room. His eyes not-so-subtly drop downwards, over the swell of your breasts.

“If you’re not flirting with me then keep your eyes up.” You grin when he grins, both of you equally not taking the situation seriously.

He takes a sip of his drink before handing it to you. You didn’t hesitate to take a sip and the both of you kept passing the drink as you spoke to each other. He tells you about himself, you told him about yourself and how you dropped out of university because you couldn’t afford it anymore, and how Kozo basically took you off the streets to live with him in his house.

The more you drink, the more you loosen up and the alcohol basically forcing the words out of your mouth and you end up spilling how unhappy you were with Kozo, how money is the only thing keeping you around and the fact something deep inside you is just waiting for him to go bankrupt so you had an excuse to leave.

When it was Ran’s turn to speak, you found your self zoning out, your eyes wandering along his face, tracing the sharp cut of his jaw. Your mouth was tingling as you wondered if his skin felt as soft as it looks. His voice is what got you the most, it was so deep and seductive you couldn’t help but ask him pointless questions just to hear him laugh and respond. By this point your brain totally forgot about Kozo, in fact, it had you hoping some other girl caught his attention like last time just so you had an excuse to sneak away with Ran for even a minute.

Fuck, at this rate you’d be happy with even ten seconds of his time. As the alcohol raged through your body, you found your mind getting dirtier, imagining his voice in your ear whispering all kinds of dirty things he wants to do to you. He looks like he’d be good at dirty talk, knowing exactly what to say to turn you to mush.

You slide your eyes down to his hands resting on his lap and wonder just how big they’ll look on certain parts of your body. And just like that, you can feel them on your ass, squeezing and rolling the flesh between his fingers—those long, slender fingers—that look like they’ll fit wonderfully inside your pussy.

The thoughts were coming faster and getting dirtier and you shook your head to try shake the thoughts out but it wasn’t working.

Your body knew what it wanted and it was him . It never reacted this way for Kozo and for once you’ve never wanted to just rip your clothes off for a man right here and now. You blink and nod every time Ran says something, hoping and prating he didn’t see the way you completely zoned out and allowed lust to fully take over.

“Well?” he says after a few seconds of silence.

You blink again, confused. “Sorry, what?”

He chuckles (dear lord his voice) and speaks again. “I asked you a question.”

“A question…? Oh, sorry. I—”

“Was too busy thinking of me,” he finishes for you, that smirk back on his face as you gape at him, speechless.

“I wasn’t—” Your voice came out too high—a clear indication you were lying— and so you clear your throat and tried again. “I wasn’t.” He’s smiling at you again, though he looks insanely hot wearing that cocky smirk, it still made you irritated nonetheless. “I wasn’t,” you repeated, furrowing your brows.

"Think he'll notice if you leave for a few minutes?" Ran asks you with a grin, making no attempt to hide the lust that's clouding his voice.

You bit your lip and shook your head quickly. With that, Ran stands and holds his hand out for you to grab.

You take it gratefully, your heart racing and your palms clammy. In seconds, you're being pulled off the couch, towards the door. For some reason, you feel as though you should be worried, Kozo's warning in the car replaying in your mind over and over again, but then you glance at Ran once more, his tall, lanky frame walking in front of you and your worries seem to disappear.

Rindou watches his brother take your hand and exit the room and rolls his eyes, not even the slightest bit surprised Ran would listen to his dick first rather than care about losing Kozo as a regular of the club. He downs the rest of his drink and heads over to the roulette table, determined to keep Kozo's attention on nothing but the game and not on the fact his girlfriend currently disappeared from sight with his brother.

Ran opens the door to a room titled VIP room, letting go of your hand and lets you walk in first. You turn around to the sight of him shrugging his jacket off and you instantly head towards the couch, shifting backwards until your back hit the couch arm.

Ran follows, one knee on the couch as he cages you in between him and the arm. Your hands rise to his hair, looking up at him through hazy eyes before bringing him down closer. His lips brush against yours for a moment before he closes the distance.

You couldn’t keep your hands off him, his broad shoulders, down to his waist, grabbing whatever you could muster. He groans into your mouth when your fingers rake up to his hair, scratching lightly.

His big hands spread your legs open, your dress riding up your thigh exposing more skin he’s been dying to touch, and slots himself between your spread legs. Your legs close around his waist, locking him in place as his tongue devours your mouth, licking lightly at yours until every inch of your patience is going haywire.

The desire running through your veins make it so you don’t even care about what you’re doing, Kozo completely eliminated from your mind as you kiss him back as passionately as you can muster.

His hand slides down the sides of your body, your waist, to your hips and he pulls away from the kiss to sit on his knees. Reaching behind him, he unlocks your legs from his body and spreads them open. You bite your lip and wriggle your hips to help him peel your panties off quicker.

His fingers gravitate towards your cunt, soaking and ready for him. A small whimper leaves your mouth when his finger grazes your slit, moving upwards to your clit and rubs circles on it. Your mouth drops open as you pant softly at the sensation.

Satisfied, he inches forward, latches his lips onto your neck and sucks. His lips, plus the skilled movement of his fingers have your body working overtime, pleasure filling every pore of your skin as your back arches with every flick of his finger.

“Ran…” You’re the first to speak ever since entering the room and he hums in response against your neck, the vibrations echoing throughout your entire body.

“Yeah baby? Whaddya need?” His words, muffled from his face in your neck, still manage to reach you.

“I want…” you keen when his finger circles at your hole before pushing in, making your eyes squeeze shut at the intrusion. “Feels so good .”

“I know baby.” He pulls out from your neck. “Boutta make you feel even better.”

His hand pulls the top of your strapless dress down, revealing your bra. He kisses your breast exposed from the bra cup and bites down softly on the flesh. He hasn’t even touched your nipples yet and you were already aching for him.

You throw your head back against the couch arm when you moan, biting down on your lip hard as his finger inside you reaches a place that’s never been touched by your own fingers, or Kozo’s. You feel a whole new world of pleasure, mind so dissociated from reality that you don’t even notice he’s pulled your bra cup down all the way and latches his mouth to your nipple, sucking rhythmically with hollow cheeks as he gets the most out of your reactions.

He switches to the other nipple, flicking and rolling the other wet one with his spare fingers. He squeezes your breast as he sucks, adding another finger into your wet pussy and begins to fuck it faster just to hear the squelch and the sound of your moans getting louder, body squirming, writhing on the couch, unable to even function anymore.

“I’m gonna —ah fuck !” Your hand flies to your mouth and you scream into it, legs shaking uncontrollably, body twitching as his fingers keep thrusting in and out of you. It takes more than thirty seconds for you to regain control over your body and weakly attempt to push him off you.

“That was so hot baby.” He’s chuckling and bending down to your pussy, spreading your folds open with two fingers. He eyes the wetness in front of him, your juices leaking from your quivering hole, soaking the couch and your inner thighs.

You’re panting heavily, hand smacked over your eyes as you try to rub the stars in your vision away before yelping when you feel him blow cold air onto your bare cunt. He watches the way your hole spasms, laughing to himself before inching forward, sealing his lips to your folds.

He sucks and kisses along your pussy, his tongue flicking through your juices, your clit, and even protrudes your hole, entering without any warning. Your hands fly to his hair, trying to pull him off while simultaneously grinding his face against your pussy.

His lips attach to your clit, sucking the bundle of nerves until a sound he’s satisfied with escapes your lips, then he’s re-entering his tongue into your pussy, licking around until you tug uselessly at his hair.

He loves seeing you like this, so broken and drunk on the feeling of his tongue and fingers. He had a feeling Kozo wasn’t satisfying you like he should be, and wants to raise the bar so high that you’ll never want to accept sex from a low-life scum like Kozo. Wants to raise the bar so high that you won’t be able to cum from a mouth that isn’t Ran’s, a cock that’s not Ran’s, or fingers that’s not his or your own.

He’s so preoccupied in making you cum for a second time he doesn’t realise your legs are shaking uncontrollably again, unable to control yourself and you release on his face again except its more liquid than you’d ever produced before.

You fucking squirt on his face, on his tongue, and you want to sink into the floor from embarrassment. Ran pauses, pulls his face away from your pussy, completely drenched and looks at you peeking at him through a small hole you made with your hands covering your face.

“I’m so sorry—I—I told you to stop…” you try defend yourself but he’s pulling your hands away from your face.

“And you’re apologising for what? That was so hot baby.” He wipes his face with his shirt, uncaring of the huge wet stain on his perfectly ironed white shirt and cages you back between him and the couch, his strong arms coming beside your head to hover above you. “You never done that before, right?”

You meekly shake your head and he grins, smug and proud of himself before bending downwards, capturing your lips in his. Your hands cup the side of his face and kiss him back softly, slowly, treasuring the feeling of his lips against yours, the way his tongue flicks playfully into your mouth.

“...Ran…” you whisper between kisses, obsessed with the taste, touch, feel of him. You can’t get enough. The way he feels against you, the sounds he makes when you make him feel good, the strength of his grip on your waist, the passion behind his eyes when he looks at you.

You’ve never felt anything like it before. Ran could get you off ten times in a row if he wanted to, and you’d happily let him.

Your hand travels from his cheek, around to his neck, eagerly meeting his kisses with soft moans, before running your spare hand down his chest to his pants, finally resting there and letting your fingers trail across the print of the dick poking through his pants.

Ran smiles against your lips, opening his mouth and running his tongue up your neck and onto your ear lobe.

"I wanna make you feel good," you breath out shakily, hand still caressing the outline of his erection. He moans a quiet "fuck okay" into your ear before shifting to sit on couch.

You get on your knees next to him, looking up at him and meet his lips again for another deep, intense kiss, then run your tongue down his jaw line, all the while unzipping his pants and pulling his cock out. Ran takes a hold of your head, moving your lips further down his throat, groaning softly when you begin to leave marks on his skin.

His cock twitches in your hand as you stroke it in movement with your lips on his neck, trailing the tip of your thumb on his shaft until you’re brushing against the slit, lightly swirling around. Ran jerks your head away from his neck and locks eyes with you.

"You drive me crazy," he admits quietly, watching you intently.

You bite your lip and take your spare hand, tugging playfully on one of his braids and lean in close, lips brushing his, "you're driving me crazy too." You shut him up with a kiss before he can respond, nibbling his bottom lip and slipping your tongue into his mouth hungrily. He moans into your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours, spending sparks of electricity coursing through you.

You slowly strip him from his shirt, making sure you don't miss any detail about his body, memorizing every curve and shadow. "Wanna drive you even crazier," you whisper and kiss down his stomach.

Ran's breathing is becoming heavier and his skin has become flush as he watches you inch your way down his torso, sucking and licking the light trail of hair going down his abs, until you finally come to a halt at his crotch. Sliding off the couch, you got on the floor on your knees and bend down until your lips brush the head of his cock.

Looking up at him, you take the first hesitant lick of his cock and watch him quiver slightly. His eyes burn with desire, hands gripping the sides of the couch tightly, his eyes watching every flick of your tongue on his length. You begin to lick and suck, going deeper each time and taking all of him in, sending shockwaves of pleasure through Ran's body.

You wrap your lips around his shaft, moving them up and down at the same pace, humming softly when a low moan escapes his lips, vibrating against your tongue as you continue to lick, swirl your tongue around the sensitive head. The way he smells, tastes and feels is intoxicating. Every lick sends more and more tingles down your spine, adding fuel to the fire already burning inside you.

After a few minutes of this slow blowjob, Ran stands up and helps you stand as well. "Get on the couch," he says, caressing your hips as you look at him expectantly.

"Okay," you giggle, obeying him. He picks up his jeans and grabs a condom from his back pocket, slipping it on his cock as you crawl on top of the couch, on all fours and arch your back, inviting him to come closer, pushing your ass against him.

Ran kneels in front of you and guides the head of his hard cock to your wet entrance, rubbing it up and down over your slit, then pauses. You look back, about to ask what's wrong before he speaks first. "Actually, turn around. Wanna see your face as I fuck you."

His words send waves of heat through you and you lift yourself off the couch, turning around so that you're on your back. Ran licks his lips, spreading your legs wide open for him, eyes never leaving your own. The heat behind his eyes are so intense, you squeeze your eyes closed to avoid them.

His hands tilt your head up and then leans forward, kissing your forehead softly. "Open your eyes, pretty," he whispers, nipping your earlobe gently.

You slowly open your eyes and glance up at him, seeing a smirk spread across his face, seeing desire and need there. His voice is strained and thick when he asks if you're ready. You bite your lip and nod yes, biting back a scream when his hot, throbbing length slips inside you. It hurts a little but you manage to hide your wince by smashing your hand over your mouth.

"Shit," he curses under his breath and pulls almost completely out of you, only to slam himself back inside of you hard and fast. You gasp loudly, hands rising to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Ran's hands come to rest beside your head, thrusting into you repeatedly, each thrust harder than the last.

"Faster," you pant and arch your back.

He continues to thrust, letting go of your hips, wrapping his arms around you instead. He grinds his hips into yours, whispering, "Fuck, you feel amazing, baby. Just as I thought you would be." A small smile spreads across your face, "You alright?"

Your cheeks are flushed, feeling both turned on and embarrassed at the same time, "ye-yeah...I'm g—good," you stutter out when his hips start to move faster again. Your hips start to meet his and the familiar pressure builds quickly.

The first few thrusts of orgasm hit you hard, pleasure shooting through your core, soaking your insides and causing you to tense up as your inner walls clamp down on Ran's length. Your body trembles beneath him, moaning loudly as you clutch his arms tighter, not wanting to let go, wanting him to keep fucking you forever.

As your climax subsides, the pressure releases its hold and he slams into you one final time, letting out a deep groan suffocated by the press of his face into your shoulder. His hips stutter as he fills the condom, thrusting weakly into your body once, twice, three times before coming down next to you on the couch, chest heaving, sweat glistening on his skin.

You lie on the couch, body still trembling from the intense pleasure you just experienced, trying to catch your breath. The feel of Ran's weight pressed onto you makes you relax, enjoying the warmth radiating from his body, letting out a soft purr of contentment.

He turns his head, resting it on your chest. "That was good, huh?" His head snaps up at the sound of your laughter. "Yeah? You enjoyed it?"

"Best I ever had," you say honestly, smiling slightly, holding his head in your hands and looking earnestly at him.

Ran looks away for a second, biting his lip. After a moment he looks back at you, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. "Leave that guy," he says out of nowhere and you blink at him.

"What?" you ask with confusion.

"Kozo, Kazoo whatever the fuck. Leave him." He drops his head onto your shoulder childishly, his hands clutching your bare back as he tugs you closer. "Don't wanna share you with that guy."

"You're already assuming I want you back. Moving a little fast, no?" you tease, giggling.

"I already know your answer, pretty. Stop playing dumb," he sighs dramatically and you raise an eyebrow, pulling away from him.

"Confident aren't you?"

"Am I wrong?" he sits up, bringing his legs off the couch, coming closer to you. "That guy treats you like literal shit. There's no possible way you're thinking about staying with him."

You shrug and look down at your lap. "He buys me nice things. I don't wanna lose that."

Ran inches closer to your ear, his hot breath making you shiver. "Can buy you better things," he says, trailing his fingers along your jawline. "Can treat you better too."

He grabs your chin, turning your face towards his, planting a firm, chaste kiss on your lips. When he pulls away he smiles widely at you, biting his bottom lip. "Say it," he whispers.

You swallow nervously, looking up at him, debating whether or not you should give in. "Alright..." you mumble, looking up at him with a big smile on your face. “I’ll leave him. But you gotta take me out on a nice date.”

“Bet.” He presses a long, firm kiss on your forehead. “Now lets get you outta here.”

Ran helps you put all your clothes back on, and by help it means trying to slip them off everytime you tug them back on. After giving into temptation, another ten minute make out session on the couch—with your clothes on—you finally pick up the ten missed calls and texts from Kozo asking where the hell you were.

You look at Ran, asking for help on what to say.

“I have an idea. Give it here.” He held his hand out for you to give you his phone. You look at him sceptically, the look on his face screaming all sorts of mischief.

“You won’t do anything weird, right? I wanna end things with him but I don’t want him to hate me.”

“Uh-huh,” he responds, clearly not paying attention as he taps away at your phone. You wait for him to finish and turns the phone off and hands it back to you. “Ran what the hell did you do?”

“Blocked him.” He stands up when you gape at him, shocked.

“What the fuck? I told you not to do anything weird…” Your voice gets lower and quieter when his hand skirts around your hip, pulling you closer to him. “Ran…I’m serious. He’s going to be so mad at me when he—”

“He’s not gonna do shit. Now put your coat on, lemme take you home.”

You do as he says and when you’re leaving the club with Ran’s hand in yours, you pretend not to see Kozo eyes wide with shock, turning to anger when Ran smirks in his direction, his hand snaking to your lower back to help guide you out the door like the ever so respectable gentleman he is.

mr steal yo girl is back hehe

Not proof read so ignore any mistakes plz

#✰ : tr #—tr </3 #ran x reader #haitani ran x reader #ran haitani x reader #tokrev x reader #tokyorev x reader #tokrev #haitani ran smut #ran smut

822 notes · View notes

0o-junebug-o0 · 5 days

Note

Hii can we please get an Emily Prentiss with a fem reader with something to do with strip poker? :)

Love your fics sm!!

Strip Poker

Here you go, my love! And thank you! Also, I learned how to play texas hold 'em from a hermitcraft video haha

genre: fluff

cw: suggestive 16+! kinda fem! kinda gn!reader (reader's gender is not specified but is described as having breasts and wearing bra), strip poker, getting together, kinda fade to black smut

wordcount: 1.9k

“Wanna play poker?”

You turn to look at Emily. She’s lounging against the arm of her couch and watching you with raised eyebrows and a cheeky smile.

“You better not be like Reid,” you warn.

She laughs. “No, no. Don’t worry. I’m good, but I can’t count cards.”

You raise your eyebrows. “What are you trying to trick me out of? I don’t have any cash.”

“So does that mean you want to play?”

You shrug. “Sure. I don’t know what we would bet though.”

“We could play strip poker,” she says simply, like it’s no big deal at all.

Your eyes widen and you can feel your face warm. “Seriously?”

Emily shrugs. “We don’t have to, of course,” she says nonchalantly. “But, yeah, seriously.”

You swallow hard as you try to wrap your head around Emily’s proposal. Strip poker. With Emily. With the woman you’ve had a crush on for over a year. The thought seems almost too good to be true. You find yourself nodding and Emily’s eyes light up.

You can’t help but feel a little guilty as she pushes herself off the couch and leaves to grab a deck of cards. But she suggested it. It was her idea. It’s not like this was an elaborate plan on your behalf to see her naked.

Figuring it would be easier to play on a flat surface, you slip off the couch and onto the floor, crossing your legs beneath you and leaning back against the base of the couch. You pick at your fingernails nervously as Emily returns waving a deck of cards triumphantly.

She sits on the floor in front of you, leaving about a foot of space, and slips the cards from the pack. “What kind of poker do you want to play?” she asks, shuffling the cards with an ease you find insanely attractive.

“I only know Texas Hold ‘Em,” you admit nervously.

Emily nods and shuffles the cards again. “We’ll play that then. I’ll teach you another variant some other time.”

You haven’t even started to play, but your cheeks warm at the thought of doing this again.

“No blinds, obviously,” Emily says.

You nod in agreement.

“We’ll bet an item of clothing and the other person can call to match the amount or raise by adding another item.” she continues. “You lose a hand, you lose a piece of clothing. And that includes folding unless it’s right off the bat.”

You nod again, too flustered to come up with any words.

“Alright,” Emily says, dragging out the word as she deals two cards facedown to herself and you.

You pick up your cards. Queen of spades and two of clubs. Not a great hand, but a queen high isn’t horrible. “I-I’ll bet my shirt,” you mutter.

Emily nods. “I will as well,” she responds, taking three cards off the top of the deck and laying them out between you. Eight of hearts, eight of clubs, and 3 of spades.

You glance up to see Emily watching you with an indecipherable expression. You can feel your heart rate pick up and you fight the urge to lower your gaze, staring right into her eyes instead. She smiles. “Do you want to raise?” she asks.

“No, I’m good.”

“You ready for the next card?”

You hum in affirmation and she takes the top card from the deck and sets it next to the others. Two of diamonds. You feel a bit of relief at the thought that you might not be the first to begin undressing.

Emily pauses for a moment to give you a chance to raise, and when you don’t she takes the next card from the deck and sets it down to reveal the six of diamonds. “Ace high,” she says, lowering her hand for you to see.

You smirk at her and flip your cards. “Two pair.”

Emily laughs and tilts her head in acknowledgment. She sets her cards down and curls her fingers under the hem of her shirt. Your breath hitches as she slowly starts to lift her shirt, revealing first her toned stomach and then the black bra that perfectly supports her breasts. Her eyes stay locked on yours the entire time. She finally pulls the shirt over her head and tosses it aside and you have to fight the urge to stare. She’s absolutely gorgeous and you don’t know what to do with yourself.

Emily reaches out and rests her hand on your knee, making you jump slightly. “You alright?” she asks sweetly.

You find yourself nodding before you can even properly process her question. She smiles at you and your stomach feels like it does a backflip.

“Ready for the next hand?” she asks, picking up all the cards and shuffling them.

You nod again. It’s like her beauty has rendered you incapable of coherent thought, much less speech. Emily deals the cards and you look to see that you have a six of hearts and a seven of clubs. With some luck, you might end up with a straight and get to see Emily take off another piece of clothing. You blink hard to drag yourself back to reality as Emily says, “I bet my socks.”

You look down at your hand again. “I’ll bet my shirt.”

Emily raises an eyebrow at you and you smile back. Your nerves are quickly starting to shift into excitement. She sets the next three cards down. Ace of hearts, 10 of spades, and jack of clubs.

“I’ll raise my belt,” Emily says. You look up at her to see a cocky expression on her face. The flop gives the chance for a straight, though you doubt she has both a queen and a king, if she already had a straight she’d be raising way more than just her belt. She might have one of them. Or maybe she’s bluffing.

“I’ll match with my belt.”

Emily deals out the turn. A five of diamonds.

“I raise my pants.”

Your head shoots up and you stare at Emily with wide eyes. Maybe she does have a king and queen. You try to read her, but her expression is the same slight cockiness and self-satisfaction it’s been the whole game. You look back and forth between your hand and the community cards.

“I fold.”

Emily smiles wide and you hand her your cards face down for her to shuffle back into the deck with the others. You take a deep breath to steady yourself before beginning to unbuckle your belt. Emily’s eyes seem practically glued to your hands as she shuffles the cards. The metal of the buckle clinks as you pull your belt through the loops of your pants and set it off to the side. You lock eyes with Emily as you hook your fingers under your shirt and her hands go still.

You smirk, pleased to see that you seem to have the same effect on her that she has on you. Taking a leaf from her book, you maintain eye contact as you slowly remove your shirt, and by the time it’s gone and you’re just in your bra, you can see the blush on her cheeks. The realization that she’s enjoying this just as much as you are starts a fire burning in your gut and you start to think that maybe Emily wants you too.

She opens and closes her mouth for a moment, before lowering her gaze back to the cards and shuffling them again. “You’re beautiful,” she says softly.

Your face feels like it’s on fire. “Th-thank you,” you stutter, taken aback. “You are too.”

She lifts her head slightly and smiles at you softly before handing out the cards. Seven of hearts and king of spades. Emily hums as she looks at her cards.

“I’ll, um, I’ll bet my socks,” you say. Now that you’re both shirtless, you can feel the excitement curling in your chest. You want to see more of her.

Emily nods. “I’ll bet my belt.”

She lays down a four of clubs, nine of spades, and a king of clubs. You smile confidently. The flop doesn’t lend itself to anything good so you feel you have a good chance with a pair of kings. Even if Emily has four, as long as another one isn’t played in the turn or river, you’ll win.

“You gonna raise?”

You think for a moment before shrugging. You might as well. “I’ll raise my pants.”

Emily’s face flushes. “I’ll match with my own.”

Neither of you raises the bet as an ace of hearts and eight of clubs are played. When the hand is over, you smirk at her, feeling confident in your victory. You set your cards face up on the floor. Emily laughs and does the same. Your jaw drops. She has a four of spades and a four of hearts.

“You forgot about three of a kind, didn’t you?”

You stare at her in shock. “I—yeah,” you admit. “I thought for sure I had you.”

“That’s what you get for being cocky,” Emily teases with a laugh.

You scowl playfully and stick out your tongue. You quickly tug off your socks and toss them to the side before climbing to your feet. Emily’s gaze follows you as you stand, watching the movement of your fingers as you undo your pants. You can see the way her chest heaves with each breath as she watches you slowly push your jeans off your hips.

You bend over seductively, giving her a good view up your bra as you slide your pants down your legs. You swear you can hear her breath hitch. Once free of your jeans you toss them off to the side and sit back down with your legs crossed in a way that leaves your underwear exposed.

Emily lowers her gaze and quickly reshuffles and deals the cards. The round passes quickly and you can tell she’s distracted. She jumps straight to betting her pants and you match with your bra, then she loses with a jack high to your pair of threes. She practically jumps to her feet and without removing her belt, pushes her pants down.

The sight of her underwear makes your face burn. They’re a pair of small black boyshorts that hug her ass perfectly as she bends over, forcing you to struggle between choosing to look there or at her breasts. Either way, she’s gorgeous.

She tosses her pants to the side and, instead of sitting back down where she was, she closes the gap between you and lowers herself to sit on your lap. Your arms shoot up in surprise, your hands hovering over her skin, unsure if you’re allowed to touch. You can hear your pulse rushing in your ears.

Emily drapes her arms around the back of your neck and stares at you for a moment. You stare back with wide eyes and your mouth parted slightly in shock. She brushes her hand over your cheek and you swear your heart skips a beat.

“You can touch me, sweetheart,” she whispers.

You nod desperately and immediately your hands find her hips. “I-is this really happening?” you breathe, unable to wrap your head around it.

“If you want it to.”

You nod again, just as desperately. “Yes, God, yes. I’ve wanted you for so long,” you gasp weakly.

Emily smiles softly at you. “I have as well.” Her gaze drops from your eyes to your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

You think the way your hand immediately slides into her hair and presses her lips against yours is answer enough.

_____

REQUESTS ARE (temporarily) CLOSED!

Taglist!: fill out this form if you want to be tagged when I post fics

@ashluvscaterina @angeliccss @novaanna @moonysreid @eliscannotdance @ilyremuslupin @greyslover3004 @written-in-the-stars @jayden-prentiss @idkwhatever580

#criminal minds #fanfic #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader angst #lesbian emily prentiss #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss x reader fluff #emily prentiss x gn!reader!#emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss fade to black smut #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss x reader #suggestive #fade to black smut #requested

162 notes · View notes

azen13 · 2 months

Note

I'd love to inquire about the Starlight Pawnshop. While the chess piece intrigues me, can I have the double sided coin? (Hoping for Aventurine, you see!)

King of Hearts, Ace of Spades

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Double-Sided Coin: A coin where both sides show the same pattern, allowing its desperate holder to not need to rely on luck to win this bet and secure their prize.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Description: You live on a dying planet, making just enough money playing poker to get by. One day, you meet a new player, Aventurine of the IPC, who has come to your world as a part of the IPC's plan to take your planet over. While he wasn't planning to make any big gambles himself, the thought of you being his might change his mind.

CW: Yandere Themes, Drinking, Mentions of Death, Non-Sexual Intimacy

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The scent of smoke and spirits is heavy and acrid, looming over your favorite poker table like a thunderstorm as the dealer shuffles a deck of cards. They’re red and black waterfalls in his weathered hands, rippling from left to right, right to left. Left to right, right to left, and again, and again. After you and the dealer, there are four empty wooden chairs, once occupied by players earlier in the night, now long gone after losing all their money. That left you and the strange man.

In your eyes, he looks rather gaudy in his well-pressed suit, practically shimmering from head-to-toe due to all the jewelry he wears. Unlike you and your rigid, controlled posture, he seems perfectly relaxed, draping himself over his chair, a king on his throne, overlooking his kingdom with a smile that seems to shine in his neon-colored eyes like diamonds. When the dealer passes out cards, dealing two to you and two to him, he glances at them without so much as a change in expression before he has settled back into his original position. His cards are so close to you that if you craned your neck just a little to the right, you might be able to know how to play this upcoming round. You know better, though. This is an impossibly important match, and if you lose it, you wouldn’t be able to pay your electric bill.

Still, the thought is tantalizing. Unlike the people you usually played against, who had easy tells and rarely won–unless you were having an off day–he was clearly well-versed in the game of poker, and had the luck to go with it: pocket aces, straights, a royal flush, even. You were certainly no novice either, but he had slowly been chipping away at you, taking high risk after high risk, to which you always folded, even when you had the cards to win.

Looking at your cards, you have to bite back a smile. In your hands lie the ace of diamonds and the ace of hearts: pocket aces. It was as though the stars–however invisible they were in the sky on your planet–had aligned in a serendipitous syzygy. This was the moment you needed. The moment your hard work would pay off. If all went well, you could pay your electric bill, as well as buy some bread. If you were really lucky, you could purchase a ticket off this planet, a world of decay and death, to go somewhere brighter and better, and start a new life.

Of course, that was all just wistful thinking, you remind yourself. Snapping yourself from your momentary reverie, you place your cards on the table, glancing over to the blonde stranger opposite to you. His eyes gaze at you with such unceasing focus, it almost feels like you’re being lasered straight through. You squirm in your seat a little, concentrating on the curve of his lip and the calm emanating from his posture, hoping to find some clues as to what your opponent might be thinking. Despite your best attempts, you come up with a blank.

“Why the long face, friend?” His voice snaps your attention like a toothpick, the words as thick and syrupy as honey as they pour over your ears. You do your best to force his voice out of your head, instead watching as the dealer lays out five cards in the center of the table and flips three over: king of hearts, jack of clubs, ten of diamonds. Just the sight of each card makes your heart thrum with excitement.

With shaky hands, you throw caution as far away as you can, and push your meager stack of chips into the pot. “All in,” you whisper. You have not prayed to the Aeons in many years, but in this moment, you send a silent prayer out to the cosmos, hoping for a response.

The stranger raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. Suddenly, you feel very small and insignificant, like an ant beneath a shoe. Perhaps this wasn’t a good decision, not when you’re on your last leg in this match, and you need this money. But playing it safe wasn’t working, and you’re almost out of money, so might as well go out with a bang, right? “All right,” he chuckles, leaning forward and using his free hand to push all his chips into the center of the table, “I suppose I’ll do the same.”

After a moment, the dealer flips over the remaining two cards: a queen of clubs and a ten of clubs.

Shuddering, you lay down your cards.

Your heart shatters so violently and thoroughly, nothing remains but a pit in your stomach.

He has pocket aces too, but unlike you, he has the ace of clubs, giving him a straight flush.

For several minutes, you watch yourself sit listless, as the dealer gives your opponent the winnings and heads off for the night. Now, in this part of the gambling den, only you and the winner remain. The man picks up a red and white chip, running a gloved finger across its damaged edge. “A good game. Excellent, even,” he remarks, flipping the coin in the air and catching it in his palm. He looks at you again, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. “How about a drink? I’ll pay.”

You want to say no. All you want to do is go home and cry and scream and figure out how you’re going to sustain yourself for the next week or so. You want to eviscerate this stranger for taking your money when he hardly needs it. He isn’t struggling to pay bills, or afford food and water. But you are. Even though you want to do these things, a free drink is a free drink, and with how tight money will be in the upcoming weeks, it’s not like you can decline the offer. “Sure.” You let him guide you away from the poker table, past strangers clad in shadows betting their miniscule fortunes and drunkards drowning in fleeting moments of hedonism to a small bar.

Lit by flickering neon lights and pungent with the smell of cheap liquor, it reminds you of everywhere on your home planet: trashy. There are no patrons by this time of night; all the reckless people have already spent their money, and those smart enough to not give into temptation know the price is far too much for just one pleasant night.

The man sits on a stool, lounging just as comfortably as he did at the poker table. “Well, what do you want?” He asks, propping up his chin with a hand. You search the bar, trying to find a menu, but come up with nothing. Not knowing what to do or say, you shift on your feet, chewing on your lip as your eyes flit over the room again.

Noticing your unease, your former opponent simply chuckles, sidestepping you to walk up to the counter. “Two glasses of sparkling water please,” he says, pulling out a black and gold credit card and sliding it over to the bartender. After a moment, he’s already handing you a fluted glass full of a pale, effervescent liquid. “By the way, I’m Aventurine,” the man says, offering his free hand to you.

In return, you muster up a weak smile, though bitterness leaks through the cracks. “I’m Y/N,” you respond. You clasp his hand and shake it once or twice, before letting go. After a moment, you take a sip of your drink. “Thank you for buying me this,” you add.

Aventurine waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, it’s nothing,” he says, “it’s not every day I get to play against someone so talented.” Even with how horrible you feel, the compliment is enough to brighten your expression a little.

A momentary silence settles over the two of you, and you feel the urge to say something. To do something. But before you can ask a question, something stops you in your tracks.

Your stomach growls.

You feel your face warm a little, embarrassed at how loud the sound is in the quiet. Aventurine tilts his head a little, an eyebrow raised. “Hungry?” he asks.

You give a curt nod. “Food is hard to come by nowadays. I make it by with gambling, but…” your voice falters into a sigh. This man isn’t family, a lover, or even a friend. Just an acquaintance you met only hours ago. You shouldn’t be sharing your life problems with him. “With everything getting worse, it’s only getting harder and harder,” you explain.

Aventurine’s eyes are intense. You never noticed how strikingly beautiful they are, as luminescent as the lights overhead. They gaze at you with a certain understanding, a solidarity even, as though he is silently saying ‘I have been hungry, too.’ Then you watch the light in them shifts, darkening like clouds covering the sun. “I could help you,” the blonde gambler offers, a smirk dancing on his lips, “for a price.”

At the sight of your confused expression, Aventurine continues. “I could give you anything you might want. Food. Water. Shelter. Luxury. I can show you the universe,” he says, gesturing to a cracked window showing the expansive, empty night sky. You have a distant memory of seeing the stars as a young child, but they are long gone, obscured by decades of pollution.

“What’s the price?” You ask, immediately thinking of an old saying your parents used to tell you as a child: nothing in life comes for free. For such a bargain, surely there must be a price to pay?

With the flick of his wrist, Aventurine procures a poker chip in his hand, tossing it up and catching it; unlike the warped, dingy ones the gambling den owned, the one he held is in mint condition, colored green and gold. “Oh, nothing too costly,” he chuckles, leaning in. “Just you,” he murmurs.

While the air feels electrified, you feel frozen in place. “I don’t understand,” you respond, the words moving past your lips like a drunk man hobbling home. Perhaps you are drunk with how your mind is spinning in every direction like a tornado. You check your glass. Still practically full.

Aventurine’s smile widens. “And you don’t have to.” His eyes bore into yours; for a moment, you feel like you’re being hypnotized by how the kaleidoscopic hues in them seem to swirl and shift. You want to move, but you’re still frozen where you stand. “To be honest, I myself hardly understand what I see in you,” he adds, “but I know I need it. I need you.”

The declaration hangs over your head like a thunderstorm, ready to strike you down in all its passion. Before it can, though, you manage to stand up on shaky limbs. “I refuse,” you mutter, storming out of the gambling den, leaving Aventurine sitting alone.

An easy smile rests on his face, his mind assured that this won’t be the last time he sees you.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

You return to the gambling den the next evening, intent on one thing: winning. Your electric bill payment might be late, but if you manage to eke out a victory, you can pay for both that and your upcoming water bill. Your dreams are immediately halted by the sight of Aventurine, lounging at your table as though it’s his, eyes glittering with what you now recognize as greed. It only takes a moment for you to put the pieces together: how precarious your finances are; how you make most of your money through gambling; how much he needs you.

He’s trying to crush any chance you might have at earning money, so that you willingly walk into his arms.

His expression is unceasing. He knows you’ll give in eventually, you have to. But you aren’t going to give him the satisfaction of winning. Not yet. So, with fire in your heart and daggers in your eyes, you stalk over to your table, and sit yourself down.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

It’s only a matter of days before you lose everything. Electricity. Water. Heat. Sewage. Waste. You don’t try to scrounge around for food or water, and don’t even bother looking for a job. You haven’t heard of an open one for weeks, especially with unemployment rising steadily. Most of all, you don’t bother going to the gambling den. You don’t want to see Aventurine’s smug expression.. Your home, a small, drab concrete box, will be your tomb. You’re sure of it.

That is, until you see those neon eyes glowing in the darkness of your room.

Immediately, you attempt to stand up, but your body protests, your vision growing blurry from vertigo. “What are you doing here?” You mumble. You try to channel fury in your voice, but you can’t find any fire in yourself, only weak, meaningless sparks.

Aventurine only laughs. “I’m here to offer you another deal.” With the flourish of a hand, he pulls out a small poker chip, the same one he held that fateful night you first met him. “If you accept, I’ll uphold my end of the bargain, and give you anything you want. But if you win a coin flip, then you don’t have to uphold your end,” he explains. “And let’s be honest: you don’t exactly have any more options, do you?” he asks, that smug smirk easily settling on his face. You scowl at him, but say nothing.

Finally, after a few seconds, you mutter a half-hearted ‘fine’. With the way Aventurine’s eyes light up, it’s like he’s already won. You suppose he has. After all, he has an extraordinary ability to get lucky when necessary.

“Hearts or spades?” he asks, though you hardly pay attention. You grunt out the former, watching as the coin flies high into the air, a blur of motion, before settling back down into Aventurine’s palm.

You see the symbol of a spade, but instead of fear, you feel relieved, oddly so. You slump into yourself a little more, sinking back down to the floor. After a moment, you feel Aventurine’s presence by your side. “Hey, love, it’s okay,” he murmurs, tenderly brushing some of your messy hair out of your face. Then he starts working his hands against your scalp, gently attempting to detangle the knots in your matted hair. “I know how hard this must be, but it’s going to be alright,” he whispers. “I’m going to take good care of you, I promise.”

To your worn-down mind, that sounds divine.

131 notes · View notes

allfortheslay25 · 5 months

Text

The King’s Game

I believe Riko plays cards while Kevin plays chess. The King is worth more than the Queen but Riko forgets the Ace (Neil) holds even more power

All the cards and what they’re supposed to represent

King of Spades (Riko)

Joker of Clubs (Jean)

Queen of Diamonds (Kevin)

3 of Diamonds (Andrew)

10 of Hearts (Neil Josten persona)

Ace of Hearts (Nathaniel/Abram/Neil)

King of Hearts (Nathan)

Details I did:

- Riko’s hand under the table, holding Nathan to symbolize him cheating/waiting to use the Butcher

- First drawing: Riko holding his perfect court (A for Nathaniel, Q for Kevin, J for Jean) while grinning at the bloody 10 (Neil) because even if he’s about to win with a royal flush (Ace, King, Queen, Joker, 10) he’s willing to cheat (Nathan under the table) but Riko is unaware that a royal flush needs to be of the same suits so his is just a straight (which isn’t enough for Riko)

- Second: Riko holding his incomplete perfect court (Nathaniel, Riko, Jean) he stares at the two remaining members he needs for his wrongly assumed royal flush (Andrew and Kevin) Riko intends to cheat to have his way so Nathan is hidden under the table

- Riko’s assumption for a royal flush is because it’s the highest value in poker. But since all of the cards are different suits (representing their individuality from the Nest) he’s only got a straight

- Neil would also be a wild card because royal flushes only have as much value without wild cards in a game (something Riko does not prepare for)

#aftg #all for the game #art #fanart #riko moriyama #Kevin day #nathan wesninski #the perfect court

271 notes · View notes

astroboots · 1 year

Note

Hmmm ok maybe the three of them going on holiday and making good use of a hotel room and balcony 😉

STRIP POKER

Summary: The trio goes on a beach holiday only to get trapped in their hotel room and you end up playing strip poker.

Rating: Explicit, DP with Frankie's giant cock which needs a warning of itself.

Warning: Writer has no fucking clue about poker (or any card games) and it fucking shows. She did research and friends and family tried to explain it to her but that only confused her more.

Pairing: Frankie x female reader (you) x Santiago

Word Count: 5k

Homecoming Universe | Astroboot’s Masterlist

It's raining outside.

A violent smattering of rain so aggressive it sounds like the window panes are getting the beating of its life.

Frankie sighs. $250 a night for a hotel room with a seaside view and it's just fucking pouring down.

He is standing outside on the balcony, still within safe shelter from the rain. Leaning his elbow against the balcony rail, he peers down at the perfect aquamarine water that glitters like a precious gem underneath, out of reach.

It's his first proper holiday from work in years, and he'd thought it'd be nice to splurge a bit. Big king-sized bed. Hotel Spa. Beach access.

It would have been perfect. And at first it seemed to be. Gorgeous sun as far as the eye could see when the plane touched ground on the tarmac. Then it started raining, and it just didn't stop. Torrential -- there's a typhoon warning on the weather forecast that everyone is recommended to stay inside -- kind of rain.

He throws a glance behind his shoulder, back at the hotel room where Santiago is draped across the large king sized bed with a thick novel he picked up from the airport. Santiago is about three quarters in, which means there's an hour, maybe less, before he's finished.

After that there will be nothing to distract the man and it's only a matter of time before Santiago will get restless. God knows what he'll get up to then.

For once, Frankie won't blame him.

Stuck in a small room with nothing but reruns of telemundo and shitty overpriced hotel service club sandwiches to keep everyone distracted. Frankie's pretty sure that he's going to follow suit with a case of cabin fever not long after Santiago.

From the corner of his eyes, he spots you stomp over to the bed where Santiago is lying. He can't hear what you're saying, but you're waving your hands around animatedly. Santiago immediately puts his novel face-down against the mattress, then he shakes his head adamantly at whatever it is you are saying.

Out of the three of you it looks like your patience was the first to snap.

Your arms cross across your chest, feet stomping down in dismay. Then you turn in the direction of the balcony and Santiago is immediately shooting to his feet to preempt you. He outruns you across the room and flings open the balcony door.

"Frank! Tell your wife it's a bad idea!"

Frankie rolls his eyes at the dramatic outburst. Oh it's his wife now that you have a bad idea, is it?

Cocking his head to the side, Frankie looks to you over Santiago's shoulder. "What's a bad idea baby?"

"Let's go out!" You announce. "So what if it's raining? We can go for a quick swim anyhow. It'll still be warm."

Frankie blinks. He casts his eyes over the cascade of rain that has turned the once white sand into grey sludge. Catches sight of the parasols on the beach that has been uprooted by the winds and are flying wildly, a scene straight out of that 'Twister' movie with Helen Hunt he saw as a kid.

There aren't many occasions in your life together that Frankie has ever said no to you. This though might be one of those rare ones.

"Baby," he starts, voice soft as to cajole you. "That's a bad idea."

You throw your hands out in a dramatic gesture as you stalk your way back inside the room. Frankie barely catches the tail end of your sentence but he hears the string of swears to understand the sentiment of it.

Frankie's left with only Santiago for company on the balcony. The man calmly walks up to the end next to him, leaning out against the railing to assess the weather outside.

To Frankie's surprise, Santiago doesn't say anything. Seemingly content with the companionable silence and the sound of rain smattering all around them. There are no bratty complaints about paying hundreds of dollars only to watch rain. No witty snark.

"You're being uncharacteristically well behaved," Frankie says.

Santiago grins. "I've had a lifetime of experience sitting out shitty weather with nothing to do during missions, Frank. At least this time, I don't have to listen to Firefly's snores."

Frankie snorts at the memory.

"There's much worse things in life than having you and Boa cooped up with me in a fancy hotel room."

There's something soft in Santiago's eyes as he says it. A sentimentality in his voice that Frankie has a hard time placing, because he can't quite recall when Santiago has ever used it with him before.

Before Frankie has a chance to recuperate from blanking out and think of something to say back, Santiago is already leaning away from the balcony to step back inside the room towards you.

"Come on sweetheart. Stop being a brat," he says and playfully swats your backside with a gentle tap that makes you jump.

Santiago leans over the desk and opens a drawer to pull out a pack of cards that he cracks open and your eyes light up at the sight of it.

"If you're bored, let's play a game, yeah?"

In his own humble opinion, Frankie's never been particularly good at poker. He's got the poker face part down, but he never had an interest for gambling and the rules of the game never quite made sense to him.

Santiago on the other hand is a master of it. He's the undefeated champion during their military days and he regularly cleaned out everyone's savings on any given night.

As for you. Competitive as you are, as with every game that you've played more than twice -- you got good at it with practice, but the poker face bit of it is something you are still struggling severely with, because it's always written as plain as day on your face if you have a good or bad hand.

So in a game of strip poker, it's a bit surprising that two hours in, Santiago is the one sat in his underwear, while you and Frankie are still fully clothed.

Frankie's down to his t-shirt and briefs, whereas you have only lost your right sock.

In all honesty, Frankie doesn't quite understand it. Because right now you're sitting across Santiago, a grin so wide you are going to end up with muscle soreness in your cheeks. It's a sign the size of a massive billboard on Time Square lit up in neon and flashing lights that the hand you've been dealt with is good as gold. Yet, despite all the clear signs pointing to only one very clear and undeniable conclusion, for some unfathomable reason, Santiago still refuses to fold.

He tips his chin up in challenge towards you. "What you got sweetheart?"

That grin of yours grow impossibly wider as you set down your cards, revealing them one by one on the wooden floor where you're sat.

First a diamond 8. Then a ace of heart. Then an ace of diamond. Santiago's defiant features fall, pearly white teeth sinking into that pouty lip as he watches you put down a club ace. And as you put down the final card: An ace of spade. Santiago groans in defeat.

"You're cheating," he mumbles indignantly. But his fingers are already dragging his sole remaining garment down over his hips to the sound of your cackling laugh.

If Frankie's eyes linger for a little longer than they should at the round ample curve of Santiago's ass, you don't notice over your absolute glee in defeating the man.

You're already hooting with joy as Santiago demands another round, metaphorically kicking the man when he's already down.

"And what exactly are you going to gamble with for the re-match? You're butt fucking naked Santiago!"

"We'll do different stakes," Santiago shoots back.

"Like what?"

"I'll do whatever you say."

It's like a pin drops in the space between you. Your laughter stops.

"Whatever?" you repeat.

There's a glint in your eye that even Frankie can tell is dangerous, and only an idiot (a competitive idiot) would still go ahead when met with that look on your face.

Santiago is seemingly that idiot.

"Whatever," he confirms. "Carte blanch. Nothing's off the table."

The devious smile on your lips doesn't wane for even a second. You take the deck of cards back into your hands and shuffle them.

"You're on."

Tense is an understatement to describe the next half hour that unfolds in the hotel room.

For a game that was meant to be a fun distraction from the rain outside, it's now turned into something else entirely.

Rundown gambling dens by the border of Colombia are less intimidating than what is going on between you and Santiago right now.

"Antique markets every Sunday at 6am for a month," you threaten him. Santiago practically twitches at the scene you're painting. His fingers grip on tighter on his hand of cards.

You grin at the sign of weakness.

"Oh and you're calling Martina about that time you blamed her for stealing booze from your mom but it was really you."

"What?" Santiago pipes up in alarm, with no trace of his trademark coolness that he usually has for these games. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Whatever I say," you remind him. "Those were the terms."

Santiago seethes. Gritting his teeth as he shakes his head and sits back down firmly on the ground. "Sure," he mumbles like a petulant child. "Whatever. Show your hand already."

You scoot closer to Santiago, cards tucked close to your chest with a smile so wide it lights up the whole room with it.

The first card that comes down is a club of 9. The next is a 10 in the same suit.

Frankie can already see the small muscle in Santiago's cut jaw flex before the man drags his hand over it in a tell-tale sign of displeasure that both you and Frankie recognize all too well.

Normally Frankie would say that with that look on your face, Santiago is in a whole world of trouble.

Normally.

The face of Jack is staring up at the three of you from the floor, and before you even put down the final two cards, Santiago and Frankie both already knows that it is going to be a Queen and a King dressed in black club.

You fling down the duo triumphantly and you're already listing out loud every embarrassing act you are going to force Santiago to endure. There are threats of toilet scrubbing. Brunches with Frankie's mom. Attending a taxidermy class with you.

It lasts for several minutes before you lean down to start gathering the cards to put them away.

"Sweetheart, slow down."

Santiago reaches over. His free hand that's not holding the cards, cupping over yours to stop you. There's a slow and almost gentle smile that spreads across his lips.

Then Santiago finally drops the act.

"I haven't shown my cards yet have I?" he says.

From the way that your smile fades. The way the bright light in your eyes dim, you know it too. The bastard played you. Has been playing you this whole evening, right into his conniving and clever hands.

Frankie suspected as much.

After all, Santiago is brilliant at poker. Undefeated for as long as he's known the man.

As good as you may have gotten with practice, there was no way your long and uninterrupted winning streak of this entire evening was from sheer luck. Especially not when Santiago has not shown his hand a single time this evening.

10 of hearts. Jack of Hearts. Queen and King dotted with red hearts above their crown. Then finally an Ace in the shape of hearts.

A royal flush.

"Soooo," Santiago starts with a slow and meaningful drawl as he grins back at you.

"Whatever I say huh?"

Frankie should probably put a stop to this.

Because you look like you're about to kill someone.

You're kneeling on the floor, tucked between Frankie's legs, as Santiago is right behind you, plastered closely to your back.

The man can't resist the urge to tease you, even if it is under imminent threat to his life. Santiago's nimble fingers tuck a loose curl of your hair behind your ear before pressing a kiss to it.

"You're scaring poor Frankie," he tuts. "It's not good manners to stare daggers at a man when you're inches from his cock, sweetheart."

That comment doesn't make you look any less like a murderess to be.

"Frank," Santiago calls out. "Take out your cock."

Frankie sighs as he reaches for his belt to unbuckle. One hand reaches underneath his boxers as he pulls himself out. He doesn't know why he lets either of you constantly rope you into these situations.

God he feels fucking ridiculous.

"Look at how nice and obedient our husband is being," Santiago goads as his hand comes to your jaw, bridging the span of it. Then he gently tilts you downwards to guide your face forward until you're lips are mere inches from Frankie's cock.

As if by instinct, without further instructions, your mouth already parts for him. Just the sight of your glistening tongue makes the entirety of Frank's back tingle.

He can't help it. It's sense memory at this point.

The tip of your tongue darts out, but before you make any physical contact, Santiago stops you.

"Not yet," he says.

His arm curls around the front of your chest, pulling you back again with an expression of pure schadenfreude.

"I'm gonna have to have you ask nicely for it, sweetheart. Ask Frank to let you suck his cock."

Frankie nearly rolls his eyes at Santiago. The man just has to rub it in doesn't he? Insufferable brat.

If he was Santiago, he'd sleep with one eye open tonight.

Still for all his teasing, it could be so much worse. Not to defend Santiago and his idiocy. But in comparison to what you had in mind for the man, Santiago is going more than easy on you. This is mild for the man.

You must know it too, because you don't protest. Barely even hesitate as you gaze up at Frankie, through your thick lashes, dutifully and do as you're told.

"Please can I suck your cock, Francisco?"

Shit.

Excitement pings across his nerves at your words.

This is a ridiculous situation. Frankie shouldn't get turned on.

But he can't help himself. not when he feels the warmth of your breath exhale gently over his cock and the stupid thing immediately stirs into rapt attention.

Your hands reach over, fingers wrapping around his girth. Frankie doesn't even get a chance to savor it before Santiago is already grabbing for your wrists.

Cock-blocker.

"Nuh, uh," Santiago admonishes. "No hands".

You don't fight him on it. Your hands withdraw to your sides and you keep them there obediently, as you lean down the rest of the way, until your soft gorgeous lips press down against Frankie's quickly hardening cock.

Heat spears through his stomach at your touch.

Soft and almost chaste, your lips linger on his cock and it has Frankie immediately swelling to full hardness, until he can feel it twitching against your soft cheek.

Your tongue darts out, the pink tip gliding along a protruding vein as you pamper his cock with your full attention. Lapping, sucking and kissing at the spot with a quiet moan before you finally move along and slip the head of his cock between your lips.

Dizzying pleasure punches through him and for a brief second, even sat on the bed, Frankie thinks he might pass out from the overwhelming sensation. His mind is in the process of drifting and floating out of his body and away from the room. The only thing that still keeps him tethered to consciousness is Santiago's voice. The gentle mocking praise that spills from the man's filthy mouth.

"Isn't our sweet girl good?" Santiago asks him. "Doing such a good job isn't she?"

Frankie wants to say yes. But his tongue is heavy in his mouth, and he's gone dumb with pleasure to the point that he's forgotten how to speak.

In front of him, Santiago is having the time of his life (because of course the bastard is). There is a sly smile on his lips as that clever hand of his palms the small of your back. He traces the length of your spine until his hand disappears under the edge of your panties.

It doesn't take much detective work for Frankie to guess what Santiago is doing to you as you moan keenly around his cock.

"Look at her isn't she so pretty sucking your cock, Frank?"

For all that the man keeps coddling you with his words, cooing and hushing you with a soothing cadence, Santiago doesn't show you much leniency. His hand isn't stopping, even as you whimper and shake from his touch. He doesn't let up.

Even from Frankie's obscured view from the bed, he can see Santiago's fingers working into you. Finding every perfect angle that has tears stinging in the corner of your eyes until they gaze up pleadingly at Frankie with a wet glossy sheen.

Fuck, you're so fucking pretty like this.

"So fucking perfect for us. I think my only criticism is she gets so easily distracted", he teases as your hips cant up to chase his hand, for Santiago to give you more.

All Frankie can manage is a desperate groan in return. His head tilts back as the overwhelming sensation washes over him. Hips canting deeper into your mouth to have more of your lips, your tongue, more of… anything that you are willing to give him.

Your throat protests at the thick intrusion, swallowing in fits around Frankie. You whine, trying to pull back but Santiago is there pushing you forward with another encouraging string of praise.

Frankie can see the man work his fingers deeper into you and your body is wracked in another series of shivers, mouth parting until his cock slip out. You try to cover your mouth with your hand to stop a moan that breaks out, but Santiago's hand immediately shoot out to grab your wrist again to secure it to your side.

"That won't do. Put your pretty mouth back on Frank's big cock sweetheart."

"Santiago," you protest throwing him a menacing glare, a second away from telling him that it's his fault to begin with.

"Whatever I say," Santiago reminds you, parroting your own taunting words from before. "Those were the terms."

You bite your lip with a pout that is all too similar to Santiago.

In moments like this, Frankie is reminded of the closeness of the two of you. How inextricably intertwined you two are having grown up together. Two sides of the same stubborn, competitive coin. And god he loves both of you.

Swallowing your bruised pride, you bend over again, parting your lips to put your mouth back on his cock.

Heat spears through him until his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head. The last thing he sees before they do is Santiago's eyes gazing back at him.

Even behind closed eyes Frankie can't get away from it. Santiago's sweet and murmured praises as he talks about how good you are. How pretty you look. In the dark it's easy for the lines to be blurred enough that Frankie isn't entirely sure who Santiago is directing the praise at anymore. And that makes it even better.

When Frankie opens his eyes again, blinking away at the watery edges of his sanity, Santiago is right there.

One hand palming languidly at his own cock as he observes Frankie and you.

He smiles at Frankie, holding the eye contact before he moves to position himself behind you, gripping at your hips. Cock lined up and nudging against the cleft of your ass, taking his sweet fucking time like he's putting on a show for Frankie's benefit to make sure he catches every single detail. Then he pushes forward, into you.

You gasp at the new intrusion, hands flying to Frankie's hips to keep yourself steady as Santiago thrusts forward. The momentum forces your entire body further onto Frankie's cock.

It's a struggle for you to keep your mouth on him and it's a maddening sensation for Frankie. The way your tongue darts out, desperately licking and sucking around the tip of him as best as you can. All the while the man is taunting you with unrestrained glee in his tone.

"It's not too much is it cariño? You can do it. You can take me and Frankie both can't you? Be our good girl, don't stop. Keep going."

And fuck, you don't stop. Your mouth envelops the length of his cock. inch by inch as Frankie watch in delirious fascination as the thick girth disappears between your lips.

You take in so much of him, Frankie has a momentary thought of how you even manage to fit it. Then he feels himself hit the back of your throat.

Christ, Frankie's not particularly religious but he's pretty sure he sees heaven as his cock nudges the back of your throat.

Still you continue, past your limits, eyes watering as you swallow desperately around him.

"Good girl. Such a good fucking girl," Santiago repeats, as he grinds his hips into you.

His hand rests on your back, sweeping your hair to one side until your neck is bare. Then he leans over, his chest pressed along your back and presses a kiss onto your nape.

It's such a sweet gesture, completely at odds with what the man is doing to you in this moment. Then his hips come to a still, an indicator that Santiago is well on his way to implement phase two of whatever devious plan he has for the three of you tonight.

Because Frankie knows Santiago. Better than you know Santiago sometimes, it seems. He knows him well enough that what has transpired so far is just the appetizer for what's to come.

That's just Santiago. Always a step ahead of everyone else. Always an opportunist to the core, his mind is always considering and assessing and re-evaluating the situation for changes.

It's where you lose to him. You get too honed in and narrow minded, your eyes too focused on the prize in front of you. Your mind always too occupied with thoughts of winning the battle while Santiago has his eye on the horizon to emerge victorious from the war.

In front of him, Santiago's hand comes to your cheek cupping you gently as he pulls you off Frankie's cock to your confusion.

"So good for us. You wanna claim your prize hmm?" Santiago murmurs in your ear ominously.

With one arm wrapped around your front, the man lifts you up and guides you to your feet. Then he's maneuvering you onto the bed, arranging you to his liking until you're sat in Frankie's lap.

He curls his fingers around Frankie's cock, like it's a trophy for you to claim and guides Frankie to your slick and waiting entrance, until the blunt tip is nudging against your wet clit.

That clever hand steady at the small of your back, in a steady but firm pace until the entirety of Frankie's cock is fully sheathed inside you.

Fuck.

You feel so fucking good. Warm, slick and so fucking perfect. Frankie thinks he's going to lose his mind with it.

His brain cells are melting with pleasure inside his skull and he can barely pay enough attention with the way you're clutched so tightly around his cock to register that Santiago isn't next to you anymore. He's gone off somewhere, fuck knows where, as Frankie palms the soft curves of your hips to press you firmly down on him, pushing as deep as he goes.

Frankie can't stop long enough to think much else, except for the sweet pace that you're rocking forward on his cock with. He's lost in it. Drunk and inebriated on the way you feel in his arms as he rocks you up and down on his cock that he barely even notices when Santiago's back again.

This time with a bottle of lube in his hand and a shit-eating grin on his face.

Of course, that's where the clever bastard went.

"San--" you start, but your voice is cut off at the long drag of Frankie's cock inside of you as he thrusts up again.

Santiago's smile spreads even wider, predatory. "What sweetheart? Don't you want your reward?"

Frankie can hear the click of the bottle, two seconds before he registers the way that Santiago's hand slips between your legs again, and then he fucking feels it. The pressure of Santiago's finger as he presses inside of you, and fuckfuck--shit! It knocks the fucking breath out of Frankie's lungs.

The sound you make is the sweetest fucking thing that Frankie's ever heard. It's needy and desperate. It echoes in his head and he never wants it to stop. Wants to record it so he can replay it a thousand times over.

"You did so well," Santiago says, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. He stills, allowing you to adjust to the new sensation.

"You won the game tonight. Fair and square. I'm just here to give you your hard-earned prize."

Even though Frankie can't see it, he can feel it. The rigid heat of Santiago's cock nudging at your ass, inches from Frankie's cock.

"This good cariño? You want me inside you too hmm? Tell me how you want it," Santiago demands.

But there's no way you can answer the man coherently.

You're an absolute trembling, shaking mess. Can barely form a word and much less a sentence. You just keep nodding, as you keep moving up and down on Frankie's cock with a stuttering "ye-yes."

And that's not enough for the bastard

"Yes what, sweetheart?" Santiago teases.

You sob, knowing fully well you won't be able to give Santiago what he wants in this state.

But he doesn't ease up. "Try again," he says.

"Both," you try, struggling. The word panting and out of breath. "I want-- f-fuck!" It's such a high pitched sound, you practically sound like a damned squeaky to. "Please, please," you cry, tears brimming in your eyes.

That smug bastard likes that, smiling and humming as he rubs the side of his jaw along the back of your neck, scraping his prickly five o' clock shadow against your soft skin until goose bumps form in its wake.

"Ple--please, San--I want--"

"Greedy girl," Santiago rasps out. He moves back for a brief moment, and you squeak in alarm that he's gonna leave. Instead he thrusts forward and fuck, fuckFUCK!

Shit. Frankie can't breathe.

There are bright sparks in his vision. Blood rushes to his head and for a moment Frankie isn't sure if he's going blind or having a seizure.

It's electrifying, a sweet burn that zips through Frankie's spine.

The blood thrashes and swirls inside his ears. It makes every noise around him distorted, like he's under water and drowning in you.

In the far off distance, he thinks he can hear Santiago groan brokenly against your skin. Whatever bravado was there before is all but gone in his voice now.

You're so fucking tight. He can feel Santiago through you. Can feel the way your perfect cunt is clutching onto every inch of his cock... and Santiago's not even all the way inside yet.

He doesn't know if you can fit more. Everything feels tight and overwrought and so so so much. His brain is so overloaded on sensation, it takes him a second to register that both him and Santiago have stopped moving.

None of you are speaking, and Santiago isn't teasing anymore, seemingly at loss of words now.

Santiago hisses out a breath between gritted teeth. His fingers gripping into your hips until it dents the soft flesh as the man tries to hold on by his literal fingernails.

"Fuck sweetheart, you're so tight. Relax for me okay?"

And you're trying to. Frankie can tell that much. You really are. It's not like you're doing this on purpose. It's real fucking easy for Santiago to ask you to relax when Santiago's never had to try to fit two cocks inside his body.

On top of that, while Frankie's never liked to brag, he's self-aware enough to know his own size and how he's a lot to take.

Frankie's hand comes to the small of your back, stroking it to provide you with comfort in the best way he can manage in the circumstances.

"It's ok baby, it's okay. We got you," Frankie murmurs against your skin.

Behind you, Santiago's eyes are squeezed tightly shut. An expression of bliss and torture all blended together. "I'll go slow," he chokes out. "I always do don't I? Let me open you up and make you feel good,"

His voice has gone sweet and indulgent. There's nothing mocking about it now. Just pure unadulterated fondness.

Whatever game he was playing before has ended now. Frankie knows that all Santiago wants in this moment is for you to feel good.

But you're too out of it to notice Santiago's defeat and your own outright victory.

You crane your head back towards Santiago with an indignant glare, no doubt to start off what will be a round of bickering between you and the man.

And that's the last thing Frankie wants in this moment, for either of you.

And maybe Frankie's an opportunist too. Maybe he's just as bad as Santiago. Because he quickly cups your cheek, guiding you back towards his lips to cut off any words you might have for Santiago.

His other hand, moves down to the front of your stomach, sliding his palm down along the inside of your thighs until his fingers can draw along the wetness of your folds, pressing light circles against your clit.

You try to escape it, oversensitive and overstimulated. You try to press back only to be met by Santiago's firm chest caging you in, pushing you forward and back into Frankie hand.

You shake and spasm in between them. Tears brimming in the wet sheen of your eyes.

Frankie's barely done anything to you and, god you're already close somehow.

He can feel it. The rise in the pace of your breathing, the thrum of your heart beating against your chest like your very heart is trying to escape from your ribcage as your impending climax builds and builds and builds from within you.

You come with a defeated whimper into his mouth. To Santiago's rasped groan in your ear and Frankie's low moan into your mouth. Your orgasm cascades over you as you shiver in his arms and squeeze tightly around them both.

Everything is a pleasant buzz thrumming in his veins as he can sense how all of you are unwinding. Your body melting in his arms, pressed between him and Santiago as you are.

They let you recover. Let you calm down. The only movement between them, is Santiago lips dragging against your hairline fondly as if to console you.

"That good baby? Think you ready for us now?" Frankie asks.

You're still swimming in the afterwaves of your pleasure, but you nod drowsily in reply.

Santiago continues to press open mouth kisses against your cheek and jaw, before he moves back to give you space.

You whine, a little bit panicked at the sudden movement. Your hand clings onto Santiago's wrist and the man immediately stills for you.

"Stay," you plead.

"Not going anywhere sweetheart," Santiago says, there's no hint of teasing this time. No lingering bluster of pride or a need to one up you.

"I'm staying right here."

It's soft and loving.

The very same tone in his voice he held when he was gazing out at the rain on the balcony.

Frankie had a hard time placing it when he heard it the first time, but he recognizes it for what it is now.

Contentment... It's a tone so foreign on Santiago but it suits him so well. If he can, then for the rest of his life Frankie wants to make sure the man gets to keep it.

Raising one hand to the back of Santiago's neck, Frankie cups his hand over the old-worn surgery scar as he reels the man closer and seals his mouth over Santiago's.

His lips are soft and pliant against Frankie's own. Then his mouth parts with a sweet little hum that sounds all too similar to the gorgeous whines you've been making all evening.

Outside the rain doesn't stop. It rains for the whole of that week.

But Santiago was right. There are worse things in the world than being cooped up in a room with the two people you love the most.

I don’t have a tag list. 😅 Please follow astroboot-writes and turn on notifications for writing updates! 🥰

Author's note: We're baaaaaaaack! I know it's been a hot minute since we got some proper porn with these three! It's also the first time in months I've written proper porn so I may be rusty. Thank you for your patience everyone while I was off lusting for tall spidermen.

#pedro pascal #oscar isaac #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x reader x frankie morales

822 notes · View notes

lou-struck · 6 months

Text

Dodge This!

Mirio Togata x reader (ft. Tamaki Amajiki)

~ Mirio has a new hobby and he just had to bring you along to cheer him on.

W.C. 2.6k

a/n: this was a sleep-deprived idea but I really am happy at how this turned out. I really had to incorporate some non-canon pop culture references for narrative sake.

The dimly lit pathways do little to conceal the drying puddles of rainwater on the street around you as you and your boyfriend, Mirio Togata, pass rows of darkened buildings in the city's warehouse district.

"Are you sure we're heading to the right place, Mirio?" You whisper, looking around for any sign of another person. "It seems awfully quiet around here."

He gives you a smile and drapes one of his strong arms around you, pulling you close. "There's nothing to worry about, y/n; we'll get to the gym soon. I just can't wait for you to see me play."

The game in question, dodgeball…

It's no secret pro heroes have some of the hardest jobs out there. Over time, pros have found ways to unwind after work just like everyone else, joining book clubs, poker groups, and adult sports teams.

The latter of which has been gaining more traction in recent years.

After hearing about a quirk-friendly recreational dodgeball league, Mirio jumped at the chance to sign up for a chance to use his quirk for something other than work. The first few times he had gone out, he returned sweaty, slightly bruised from ducking and diving against the gym floor, but more happy than you have seen him in a while.

This is saying something because he is literally a big ball of Sunshine, hope, and optimism. All wrapped in a thick coating of good humor and affection.

At first, you did not want to go. Not because you weren't interested in watching a bunch of Pro Heroes throw rubber balls at one another but because it seemed like this was his thing. This little league has been so therapeutic for him you didn't want to inject yourself into the experience. But after weeks of pleading from him, you finally relented, knowing that in your heart, he wants to share this new and exciting part of his life with you, the person he loves most in the world.

"Oh, watch your step there," he says suddenly. His large forearm shoots out in front of your stomach to stop you from stepping into a massive pothole full of rainwater.

"Thank you." Looking down into the deep hole in the ground, you shudder, imagining the uncomfortable sensation of walking around all night with a sock drenched in rainwater. "You really saved me there, Lemillion." your smile is soft as you meet his twinkling gaze.

His smiling cheeks flush a light pink color at the soft way you said his Hero name. "Anything for you," he beams, taking your hand and guiding you over the obnoxiously large puddle. His hand stays comfortably on your own as you continue walking down the paved street. He happily hums the Mission Impossible theme song, his current hyper-fixation, until he comes to a stop in front of a large warehouse. The white fluorescent light on the outside flickers as it is circled by big white moths.

"And here we are," he declares, turning his attention to you. His features turn serious as he places both of his hands on your shoulder. "Now, do you remember the first rule of underground dodgeball?"

"Ummm, don't talk about underground dodgeball?" you reply as his poker face shatters into his usual joyful features.

"That's it,” he laughs, his body practically buzzing with excitement.

"I should've never made you watch Fight Club, "you mutter under your breath as he takes some sort of access card out of his jacket pocket and slides it into the electronic lock. It beeps in response and the little red light on the side of the sensor turns from red to green as the metal doors open for the both of you.

You are flabbergasted at the complexity of the private facility. "All this for dodgeball?" this is kinda high tech, and you wonder which one of the country's extremely wealthy, retired Pro Heroes decided to fund this operation.

"Yeah, isn't it the best?" he asks, practically bounding down the short hallway toward the ever-growing sound of chatter. His mannerisms remind you of a golden retriever on its way to the dog park. The mental image brings a smile to your lips as you step into a massive gymnasium, its warm overhead lights illuminating the whole room.

A massive indoor sports court lies in the center of the room, surrounded by a few rows of bleachers.

There are already a multitude of heroes and sidekicks standing around the room, some tossing red rubber balls into the padded walls with a scary strength behind them. The impact sends shivers down your spine as you worriedly look to Mirio. But he doesn't seem nervous in the slightest at the possibility of decapitation by rubber ball. Instead, his blue eyes are alight with the fires of competitive determination.

"This is…" The word frightening lingers on the tip of your tongue, but he beats you to the punch.

"Incredible isn't it? In here we get to let loose a bit and have fun without worrying about our rankings or the media."

You nod, noticing the carefree smiles of the other Heroes in the room. This league is a good thing for them to have fun and just act like they are normal people whilst throwing rubber balls at each other.

He looks at the clock counting down on the switchboard above the gym and shoots you an embarrassed grin. "It looks like we are cutting it a bit close today. My game starts in five minutes, so I'll have to warm up a bit so I can really impress you."

"I'm already impressed with you Mirio," you smile fondly. "I'll go up to the bleachers and get all settled in."

You turn to leave him to his own devices, and you feel a gentle pull on your wrist before you can step away. "Wait," he says firmly, the look on his face dead serious. "You're forgetting something."

"You cock your head to the side and try to remember what he could be talking about. When he sees that furrow in your brow, his serious face melts away, revealing that mischievous boyish grin that never fails to make your heart skip a beat. "You forgot my good luck kiss."

"Oh my," you mock gasp, "how could I forget such an important thing?"

He shakes his head, "It's a crime for sure; you'll have to pay double for this infraction."

"I think that can be arranged," you chuckle, closing the short distance between your two bodies and pressing two gentle pecks to his lips. The kiss is brief, but you can still taste the berry-flavored chapstick he put on earlier lingering on his lips.

You pull away and playfully tug down on the hem of his shirt. "Good luck, Mirio," you murmur, nudging him off toward the court where his other teammates are waiting for him.

It's a short walk up a lightweight metal staircase to the raised bleachers. Since these leagues are pretty low profile, there aren't many spectators. You see a few groups of people waiting to play in the next round, but near the back of the bleachers, you spot a familiar-looking head of indigo hair sitting all by themselves.

"Hello, Tamaki," you say, coming over to sit next to your friend. "I didn't know you were on one of the dodgeball teams."

"I'm not," he replies, popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth. The heavenly aroma of butter fills your nostrils as you pull your gaze away from the bag he must've gotten from one of the little concession areas in the warehouse. "But someone at my agency wanted to make plans tonight, and I told them I was busy, so I decided to come here so I wasn't lying to them."

"Oh, I get it," you say sympathetically. "But I'm glad you're here. I don't really know anyone else, so it will be nice to have someone to talk to."

He gives you a small smile and tilts his popcorn bag towards you. "Thanks y/n. Here, take some. I saw you were looking at it earlier."

"Thank you," you smile embarrassedly at the realization you are just as sneaky as Mirio. "Was it that obvious?"

"Just a little bit," he says.

Suddenly, you are interrupted by the sound of a rubber ball hitting the wall with a terrifying force. It barrels back at the player who threw it like a boomerang. "Wow, do these balls just not pop?"

"Not usually," Tamaki says. "Since these games are for Pro Heros, the equipment was designed by support specialists to be extra durable. Occasionally, things will break, but it's way less common than with normal equipment."

"I see," you say quietly. Instinctually, your eyes dart over to Mirio in concern, but he looks so genuinely happy stretching and talking with his teammates it gives you a sense of security. If he isn't worried, you shouldn't be either.

A short man in a referee uniform steps up to the side of the court and blows the silver whistle from around his neck. The clear, high-pitched sound echoes off the walls, signaling to the teams of six to take the court.

A line of red rubber balls sit motionless in the center of the court. The players are touching the back walls with just the tips of their fingers as they stare the balls down hungrily as they try to decide which one to go for first.

There is a competitive intensity in the air that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, but when you finally zero in on your boyfriend on the court, he doesn't seem to be at all intimidated.

Instead of the balls or his opponents or anything else game-related, you see that he is looking up in the bleachers right at you. A big, goofy grin rests on his face as he waves up at you enthusiastically.

You laugh and give him a small wave back just as the starting whistle blows, and both teams are off. Mario doesn't run toward the line of ammunition at all; he hangs back and paces across the floor with an open, unassuming posture that basically invites his opponents to chuck a ball at his chest.

It doesn't take long until the first player takes the bait. A woman with plum-colored skin and a long silver ponytail steps up and throws the ball his way with a wicked speed. It has a slight backspin as it barrels toward his face.

It gets closer and closer until he activates his quirk, and it passes harmlessly through his body and hits the wall behind him. If it weren't for the special workout clothes he was wearing, you would worry about him sinking through the ground and popping up completely naked.

"Nice throw," he smiles, crouching slightly to pick up the now harmless ball. "If that had hit me, I would definitely feel that tomorrow." He winds up his throw and slings it across the court with a curve.

The woman dodged just barely, but the man behind her wasn't so lucky. The ball hits one of his spring-loaded knees as he tries to leap out of the way and is sent off by the referee.

"Way to go Mirio." you cheer happily. When the sound of your voice reaches his ear, he can't help but puff out his chest with pride.

'Watch me,' he mouths, stepping into the middle of the court.

"Looks like someone is getting overconfident," Tamaki mutters next to you.

"What do you mean?" you ask as Mirio sneaks a smile your way just as his opponents throw three balls at him at once. Thanks to his quirk, he is basically untouchable. If this whole 'hero thing' doesn't work out, you are sure he will have a promising career in the underground dodgeball circuit.

Because that is totally a real thing.

"Wow, he's incredible," you murmur to Tamaki.

"He is," the hero replies, "but Mirio has a weakness."

"Really?" you ask, struggling to think of how he can lose at this game, "how so?"

"Just watch, you'll see what I mean," he replies, taking a long sip from his water bottle.

And watch you do.

As the game rages on, Mirio's teammates are picked off one by one until Mirio finds himself staring down his opponents. The woman with the silver ponytail and the man with the strength quirk you saw earlier warming up. 2 vs. 1 may not be a fair fight, but you have full faith in your boyfriend.

His evasive maneuvers are professional and practiced. He is so good at dodging, ducking, dipping, diving, and dodging some more until all of the balls on the playing field end up on his side, safely out of his opponent's reach.

With a bright red ball in his hand, you see him wind up his throw, rush to the top of the court, and send it flying through the air with all his might.

But the man from before, smiling in his black leather singlet (which cannot be comfortable), catches the ball with one of his giant hands as if it were a balloon.

Mirio is out.

The ref blows the final whistle, and the match ends.

After shaking hands with each one of his opponents, his smile falls, and he sulks over to you with his head hung low. "Ahhh, I was so close," he groans, plopping down next to you and leaning his sweat-dusted brow on your shoulder.

"But you played so well," you say gently, consoling him. "This is so much fun to watch. Thank you for inviting me."

He perks up and puts his chin on your shoulder. "You had fun?"

You nod and press your lips to his forehead. "So much fun."

Tamaki clears his throat. "You player well, fo you play again?"

"Tamaki, thank you for coming." Mirio smiles, looking over to his best friend. "Yeah, I think we play again after this game. Do you want to play? I think we can add in an extra player."

The indigo-haired man's eyes go wide as he starts to shake his head. "N-no, I can't."

"Why not?" Mirio asks cocking his head to the side."

You watch as Tamaki tries to come up with an excuse. “Because… because…”

"That doesn't sound like a reason to me." you hum thoughtfully.

Mirio claps his hands together. "Perfect, then you'll be playing on my team in the next round."

"We could get ice cream afterward." you offer as the shy hero accepts his fate.

He narrows his eyes. "Fine, I'll play. But you're paying."

"Done," you agree, as your boyfriend looks like he is about to burst from happiness at the idea of playing dodgeball with his best friend.

"This is great!" he exclaims, patting Tamaki on the back. "There's extra clothes in the locker room in the back, go get changed."

"You sound too excited about this," Suneater mumbles as he heads off toward where the locker room must be, with the slightest hint of pep in his step.

Your boyfriend looks at you warmly, his sapphire eyes filled with love as he takes your hand. "Thank you for helping me convince him to play. I think this will be good for him to let loose a bit."

"I think you guys will have fun." you say earnestly, "I can't wait to watch."

Mirio gently pokes your cheeks.

"Hey y/n?"

"Babe?"

"The love of my life?"

You scoff as his enthusiasm brings a smile to your lips. "Yes?"

"If we win the next game can I get two scoops?" he leans in close to you and peppers your face with bribing kisses, your favorite form of currency."

"Mirio, if you win. I'll get you three scoops."

Tagging: @enchantedforest-network

#my hero academia mirio #bnha #mha #my hero academia #Mirio x reader #mirio togata x reader #x reader #tamaki amakiji #mirio togata #mha fluff

191 notes · View notes

everdreamofme · 6 months

Text

poker games

platonic ! slytherins x reader

another silly little one shot of the Slytherin gang, based off of another episode of Friends!!

Making her way into the Slytherin common room after spending some time in the library, Y/N spotted her two best friends, Pansy and Astoria, in one of the corners. Pansy was carefully painting her nails from her seat on the floor as Astoria occupied one of the couches, reading a magazine.

'Hey bitches,' She said as she flopped onto the armchair behind Pansy.

'Hey babe.'

'Where're the boys?' Y/N asked, her eyes scanning the room, expecting to find her five other best friends but with no luck.

Astoria shrugged. 'Enzo said they were doing something upstairs tonight.'

'Okay, cryptic. Don't you guys want to know what it is they're doing?'

'As long as they're not annoying me, I'm fine with the not knowing.' Pansy spoke, lifting a hand to examine her manicure. Y/N pulled a face.

'Nope, not accepting that. Let's go,' Despite the girls' protests, Y/N dragged them both to the boys dorm and swung the door open. The five boys sat around an oval-shaped table with playing cards in their hands, their eyes darting up to whoever had interrupted them.

'What the hell are you lot doing?' Y/N asked, taking a step into the room, and the two girls followed suit, both now curious too.

'Playing poker.' Theo responded as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. The three girls shared a look of confusion before Astoria spoke.

'Sorry, playing what?'

'Poker. It's a muggle game,' Blaise explained, pushing some plastic pieces into the middle of the table.

Pansy pulled a face at Blaise's response and moved to stand by him. 'You lot are voluntarily playing a muggle game?'

'Fuck! I'm out.' Draco threw his cards onto the table. 'We were, before we were rudely distracted.'

'Draco!' Pansy scolded.

'Well, can we play?' Y/N asked, causing Mattheo to laugh as he picked up all of the cards on the table.

'Absolutley not.'

'And why is that?' She challenged, crossing her arms.

'Because we would have to teach you how to play,' He said, giving her a pointed look. 'And I'd rather not do that.'

The girls all glared at Mattheo in response. Definitely the wrong thing to say.

'Okay. So now, we draw cards.' Enzo explained slowly to the girls, who now sat with them around the oval table. Nodding, the girls studied their cards intensely.

'So, I wouldn't need any, right? 'Cause I have a straight,' Y/N asked, showing her cards to Mattheo, who only clenched his jaw in response. Draco and Theo huffed at Y/N as Pansy and Astoria congratulated her lucky cards.

'Okay, Pans, how many do you want?' Enzo asked, turning the attention to Pansy, who was looking incredulously at the five cards in her hand.

'Okay... I just need two. The ten of spades and the six clubs—'

'No - Pansy, you don't-'

'Oh! I have the ten of spades; here you go!' Astoria interjected, reaching over and passing Pansy one of her cards with a smile on her face. Blaise rubbed his temple when Pansy thanked her and added the card to her hand.

'No, no. Uh, you can't do that, Tori,' He began before she interrupted him.

'Oh no, it's okay! It's okay; I don't need them. I'm going for fours!' Theo and Draco shared a look before finishing their drinks.

'Alright, so at this point-'

'Okay, we got it! Let's play for real.' Pansy interrupted Mattheo, putting her cards in a pile so they could be shuffled and dealt again. Theo raised an eyebrow.

'Are you sure? 'Cause Y/N just threw away two jacks because they didn't look happy..'

Y/N scoffed. 'Well, I'm ready now, so just deal!'

The boys rolled their eyes as Mattheo began to shuffle the cards for a new round.

A few hours later, the gang still sat around the table in the boys' dorm, playing their final game of the night.

'Damnit!' Y/N fumed, throwing her cards on the table, having lost yet another game of poker.

'Oh, I see. So then, you were lying.' Astoria accused Blaise, pointing a finger at him as he scooped up the chips with a grin.

'About what?' He asked.

'About how good your cards were.'

'No, Tori, he was bluffing.' Draco explained, beginning to clear the cards away.

'Ah-ha! And what is bluffing? Is it not another word for lying?' Blaise and Theo shared a look before shaking their heads.

'Well, I hate to break up this party, but I am shattered.' Pansy stated as she stood from her chair. A choir of 'oo' broke out as she stood up, causing her to narrow her eyes at the boys. 'What?'

'We need to settle, Pansy.' Mattheo explained, using his wand to lift the objects from the table and back into a trunk.

'Settle what?'

'The game, Pans. You owe us money for the game.' Blaise added, earning a huff from Y/N and Astoria. Enzo made his way over to Pansy and tossed an arm around her shoulders.

'Ah, come on guys, it's their first time. Why don't we just forget about the money?' At this, Pansy scoffed, shoving Enzo's arm from her shoulder.

'Fuck no! We'll pay!'

Astoria sucked in a breath of air. 'Pans, I had another answer all ready.'

'And you know what?' Y/N stood now, pointing her finger in Theo's face. 'We want a rematch!' Theo grinned as Mattheo sniggered.

'Fine by me, I could use some more money.'

'So, basically, you get your kicks from taking money from all of your friends?' Astoria asked the room. Draco pondered this for a moment before breathing a 'yup' and earning a laugh from the other boys.

Making their way back to their dorm, the three girls scoffed as they discussed losing to the boys yet again.

'Can you believe what assholes our friends are?' Pansy asked with a sour face. Y/N nodded.

'Yeah, they can get really competitive.' At this, Astoria let out a sarcastic chuckle.

'What?'

'You're one to talk, Y/N.' Pansy chuckled as Y/N's mouth gaped.

'I am not that bad!' She defended as Astoria rolled her eyes.

'Oh, please. The chess incident?'

Y/N gasped. 'That was not an incident! I was... gesturing, and the pieces just slipped off the board!'

'Oh, right. Right..' Pansy nodded.

'Ugh, shut up! I think I know a way we can beat those assholes..'

The next morning, Y/N sat herself down before the Weasley twins in the great hall. Sharing a look of amusement, they set their cutlery down and grinned.

'Y/N Y/L/N,'

'To what do we owe the pleasure?'

'I need your help.' She sighed. They simultaneously quirked an eyebrow.

'Straight to the point?'

'She must be desperate, Fred.' Rolling her eyes, she leaned forward over the table.

'You two know how to play poker, right?' Waiting until they nodded in response, she continued. 'I need you to teach me how to play. And Pansy, and Astoria.'

'Oh, do you now?'

'And what's in it for us, little snake?'

Huffing, she lowered her voice. 'You can have our winnings, whatever it is. We just need to win the game.'

They seemed to communicate telepathically for a moment before each reaching a hand over the table with another grin.

'Got yourself a deal, Y/L/N.' She couldn't help but return their grin as she shook their hands.

The following evening, when Pansy suggested another game of poker to the group, the boys all immediately declined. It didn't take much more than a pout from all three girls until Blaise was conjuring the poker table in their dorm again.

Once everyone was seated and ready, Theo made to grab the deck of cards, but Astoria got there first.

'Uh, you want me to shuffle those, Tori?' He asked her.

Astoria gave a sickly sweet smile back. 'I think I'll give it a go, thanks.' She sprung the cards from one hand to the other and began to quickly shuffle them together. The boys raised their brows in shock as Y/N and Pansy could only grin.

'What the fuck?' Mattheo murmured.

As the games went on throughout the night, the girls had won multiple rounds, much to the boys dismay.

'Okay guys, final round now.' Enzo rubbed his hands together as the gang got ready to play their last game.

Taking a deep breath, Pansy stated she was in and shoved some chips into the middle of the table, with Blaise, Theo, and Y/N following suit. Y/N drummed her fingers nervously on the table as Mattheo and Enzo took their turns putting the chips in too.

'Would you keep still?' Theo whispered, and Enzo reached over to pin her hand down as Draco shot her a warning look.

'Sorry! I'm just nervous!'

'Alright, in or out, guys?' Blaise asked.

Draco pushed his chips into the centre with a smirk on his face. 'In.'

'Alright, I see you,' Astoria mimicked his actions, pushing some further chips into the table too. Draco merely raised his brow at the girl before him as Enzo asked around the table.

'Pansy?'

'I'm out,' She huffed, putting her cards down, Blaise following suit.

'Me too.'

'Same.'

'I hate this game!' Y/N sulked as she too slammed her cards down, Mattheo quickly grabbed the empty bottle from next to her and slid it towards Draco, who was on the other end of the table. Y/N gave him a pointed look as Enzo sniggered behind him.

'I fold.'

'Fold.'

'That just leaves you two then.' Pansy said, leaning forward onto her hands and looking towards Draco and Astoria.

'Oh, I'm very in.' Draco said, tossing some more chips into the pile.

'Astoria?'

'Okay, Draco, I see you. And I will raise you, ten galleons.'

'Fine, I'm in.'

At this, Astoria grinned. 'How many do you want?'

'One.'

'Okay... dealer takes two. What are you betting?'

Draco thought for a moment as he glanced at his cards, his poker face well in tact. 'Five galleons.'

Nodding, Astoria pushed some pieces into the middle once again. 'See your five, and I raise you... twenty galleons.'

Y/N gasped, Enzo's eyes widened, Blaise sat forward on his chair, and Pansy covered her mouth.

'I'll see your twenty and raise you twenty-five.' Theo dramatically fanned himself while Mattheo crossed his arms over his chest.

'I see your twenty-five, and, uh... Y/N, get my purse.'

Y/N fumbled with her wand as she mumbled a quick 'accio'. Once she had Astoria's bag, she opened her purse and pulled a face. 'Tori, there's nothing in it.'

'Okay, then get me your purse.' Y/N shot to the other side of the room, grabbing her purse.

'Here! Good luck!'

'Okay... I see your twenty-five, and I raise you... thirty.'

'Forty! Five! Forty-five!' Pansy gasped, having grabbed her own purse, and now stood with Y/N behind Astoria. She gave both girls a thankful squeeze of their hands and directed her eyes back to Draco, who was pulling out his wallet.

He scanned the object in his hand, pulling some money out before nudging the boy in the seat next to him. 'Enzo, I'm a little shy.'

'That's okay, Draco; you can ask me anything!' Enzo tutted, nudging his shoulder into Draco's. Mattheo's hand shot to the bridge of his nose in disbelief as Draco scoffed.

'What do you need, mate?' Theo asked as he and Blaise moved to stand behind Draco.

'Fifteen.'

'Here's ten.' Theo chucked the money onto the table over Draco's shoulder as Blaise dug into his wallet too.

'I got five.'

'Thanks. Okay, I'm calling your forty-five. What do you have?' Draco asked, keeping his cards face down on the table. Astoria took a deep breath as the girls behind her held hands nervously. Her eyes darted up to meet Draco's, and she sat for a minute before laying her cards out on the table.

'Full house.' Y/N and Pansy gasped in excitement, all eyes now moving to Draco. He, too, sat for a moment, his eyes never leaving the brunette in front of him.

'You got me.' He cracked a small smile as Astoria jumped up to hug the girls behind her, all three squealing in excitement. Draco heard the sharp intakes of breath and the groans behind him as he felt someone pat him on the shoulder.

'It's alright, mate.' Theo spoke as Draco stood and turned towards them.

'It's a tough hand to beat!' Enzo chimed in, Mattheo made his way to the other side of Draco, and clapped him on the back.

'I thought we had them.' He said, giving Draco a look.

'Ah well, when you don't have the cards, you don't have the cards.' He shrugged back. 'But look how happy she is. They are,'

The boys turned to the three girls, who were now laughing giddily as they held hands. Enzo smiled, watching his best friends twirl around the room before a look of realisation crossed his features. The three other boys seemed to put the pieces together just as quickly as they all gave Draco a look, eyes darting from the blonde before them to his unturned cards on the table.

Simultaneously, all five boys made a dive for the table.

175 notes · View notes