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pa-panda-heroes · 3 years

Text

Dead Money, pt. 1. (find pt. 2 here)

Touji x female!reader [n.sfw]

ADULT CONTENT. Minors, DNI.

i feel like i bled for this fic and it still didn’t turn out how i wanted, so i really hope you all enjoy it!! ><

super big thanks to @ronnasey for helping my dumb ass understand poker!! if i did something wrong feel free to yell at me ;;~;; i can’t tag you for some reason, sorry!!

Warnings: swearing, alcohol use, cigarette use, gambling, strip poker, lots of innuendos, keep calm there will be a part 2-

Words: 6633 (the fuck?)

Fushiguro Touji was not a particularly unlucky man, nor was he one to take too kindly to something bound by fate such as luck. His entire existence was one big “fuck you” to fate, to the world of jujutsu, to his clan, all of that and more. Gambling was one favourite pastime of his, one fed by his greed and the expensive and risky jobs it lead him to. “Caution” didn’t always find itself in his vocabulary, as cool and calculated a man he was.

And so it wasn’t entirely rarely he found himself on the losing end of a bet or game of cards. Sometimes his recklessness was brought about by spite and disdain; other times, pride, and now and then, utter boredom. Very rarely did he let curiosity or the aforementioned drag him along by the ear to overly risky engagements, though. Well, maybe right now was an exception to that rule. Touji is human, after all. And nobody’s perfect, right?

Touji didn’t fancy pissing away his earnings getting wasted in whatever shithole he could find, like some others do. So when he was told he had to cut through some sleazy bar to get to his next source of entertainment, he wasn’t thrilled. Knowing the reward would be worth it, he went through with it anyway. Besides, his “new buddies” wouldn’t be part of the rough rabble downstairs drinking their sorrows away; they were well-established in this particular endeavor. Bypassing the bar still wasn’t ideal, but it can’t be helped when the law is in question. After all, most forms of gambling are banned in Japan.

As much as he enjoyed the thrill of horse racing, on the gamblers’ part, there was no active hand in the outcome of their bets, and it became tiresome after a while. Repetitive, too. There was no bluffing, lying through one’s teeth with no remorse, and there was no way of irking fellow gamblers beside verbal provocation - something Touji knew he was good at: getting under people’s skin and toying with them.

And imagine the intrigue that sprouted within him at the mention of a pretty little gem like you running an underground casino of a sort. He only knew your given name, as was the case for anyone who knew of your unsavory “establishment,” though the rumors of a woman by your name robbing away the hearts (and wallets) of men and women alike who dared gamble with you gave him enough reason to be interested. According to his not-so-savory source, not one person who had the balls to challenge you has won - as if he needed even more incentive to track you down and have a showdown with you.

The problem is, your little casino isn’t entirely for your own entertainment; gambling there didn’t automatically constitute facing you. It’s just an option patrons have. And upon a challenge, you were liable to decline and send someone on their merry way out.

So, he expected a need for establishing a reputation before you would even consider letting him into your innermost ring, which was a major pain in the ass. He wasn’t feeling all that patient and appreciative.

But his surprise erupts when he was told he was being taken straight to you, upon your request, after playing a single game (he didn’t even win!). His sour mood sweetened by volumes, the wide, toothy smirk that was his and his only on full display as he sauntered past wailing or wooing patrons, Touji taking note the envy and disdain in some of the eyes fixated on him.

He couldn’t really blame them; they wanted to gamble with you just as much as he did, and they fixed themselves up for the occasion, a sea of suits and ties mixed with sequined and slitted dresses, while he showed up in a shirt, jacket, loose jeans, and sandals. Touji was here to play poker and have his fun, whether he always wins or not - his appearance didn’t much matter. Besides, he didn’t want even somewhat to come off as a guy who used fancy yachts and speedy sports cars to compensate for something down... south.

However, it appears as though his luck has run out when he takes seat at a table with other people. He sits at the end of the long table. The woman to his left utterly reeked of cigarettes, as if she had literally bathed in it before walking in. Normally he didn’t care about smoke and the smell of it, often taking it up himself, but the scent coming off this woman was awful.

To his right was a man younger than Touji himself, seemingly enthralled by the stained finish on the table. He said nothing at all and apparently had no interest to, his chips laid out pristinely in their respective tray. Directly in front of Touji across the table was an empty chair - one he hoped would be filled by you. This was a smaller table than he expected, but he supposed you were just picky. Behind that chair, though, was a plain door, as plain as the rest of the room. Literally every surface of the room - ceiling, walls, floor - was painted black, with what he could guess used to be a window having been bricked up to his far left. The golden chandelier above his head definitely did well to stand out.

Suddenly that door opened and in sauntered a stiff-postured beauty with an unlit cigarette between her rouged-up lips, the shade of red swallowing her dress matching the rouge. It never really took much for women to catch Touji’s eye, but it was quite a feat to keep it, and she definitely could pull it off.

With an entrance like that, it must be you under that thin, silky dress.

As you walked toward the table, Touji was very quick to notice the slit in your dress which seemed to reach clear up to your hip, the opening in your dress almost minimal until it reached your knee, where the edge of the dress cut diagonally across your legs. The sound of your heels clacking with your gentle strides made him wonder if you’re the type willing to literally step on a man and enjoy it. The thought was intriguing, at least. There wasn’t enough cleavage showing to his liking, he also noted, though the slit which widened as you stepped forward definitely made up for that.

Ten outta ten, would bang.

“Apologies for the wait,” you mutter through the cigarette, and Touji wonders why you even bother with it if it’s not lit. As you pull your chair back, you make brief eye contact with him and give the slightest pause, but you say nothing as you sit down, placing the button on the table to indicate you’re dealer.

If they have a problem with that, tough shit. The look in your eye says so. It’s not how the dealer is supposed to be decided typically, but this is your casino. And it’s not even a professional casino either!

If you were being honest, you were surprised Zen’in Touji - or wait, wasn’t he technically Fushiguro, now? - didn’t bolt the hell outta there the second you asked for him to play no-limit Texas Hold’em. You knew he’d be down for a good time and a risky game of poker, but he was a victim to his own whims, or so you’ve been told, so you couldn’t know. Not to mention he was constantly on the run from sorcerers, living a dangerous and risky life himself. The thought made you run your tongue over your teeth, wondering what it would be like to run along with him.

Even before that, you weren’t surprised to hear he was perusing your bar trying to find entry into your casino at alll, trying to make a hefty sum in one night with minimal effort, you were sure. You were quite haughty at the fact that the infamous “Sorcerer Killer” was at your very doorstep, vying to gain entry to your casino, which has been doing quite well on its own recently. So well, you were considering relocating, the thought of your establishment reaching authorities because of its fame driving your consideration.

With a hefty sigh you place the cigarette in the ashtray to your left, noting the pair of green eyes nearly covered by a blanket of silky black hair watching your every move. The pack of cigarettes to the left of the tray lay there, forgotten.

A man in a rather pricey looking suit comes into the room with your preferred alcoholic beverage, also bringing the other players’ preferred drinks to them. You noted Touji’s eyes lighting up at the sake, warmed of course, brought to him. The elderly gentleman soon leaves after assuring you to only ask if you needed anything else. You didn’t even bother checking to see what your other players got to drink. They wouldn’t last long.

Everything for the upcoming game was already laid out, with the exception of pocket cards dealt and bets being laid out. With perfectly manicured nails, you pick up the deck and begin to deal out the cards, but before you can even get one card out, you’re stopped.

“Aren’tcha gonna shuffle ‘em?”

Quietly, your eyes flicker to your “esteemed” guest and morph into a slight glare. “I assure you they’ve been shuffled,” you say sternly, finding offense in the question.

“Nah. I’d much rather see ya shuffle before we start,” he protests, leaning back in his chair is if the fucker owned the place. The snark in his eye and the smirk parting the scarred cornier of his mouth was a clear indication that he was toying with you already. “Ya know, just ‘cause I’m paranoid.”

You doubted that.

“Fine,” you spit, taking the deck, splitting it in half, and holding the individual bundles face-down, at a diagonal angle to the table. Your bent knuckles press into the cool cards as you keep your thumbs at the higher end, readying to shuffle the bundles together. Making austere eye contact with him, you shuffle the cards, doing the process a couple times before you let the player to your left cut the deck. When that’s dealt with, you begin to toss cards out, beginning with the player to your left. Thankfully, the Sorcerer Killer says nothing this time.

After each player, including yourself, has two cards, blind bets must be made. The player immediate to your left, the small blind, tosses ten thousand yen into the pot. Touji, being the big blind, tosses in twenty thousand yen, and though the other lady to his left is up next, his eyes are on you, quite unashamedly so.

You lean back in your seat, almost looking down your nose at him. You were trying to get a feel of him, trying to figure out what makes him tick. You weren’t too keen on the idea of letting him have the control he’s grasping for, and instead felt like yanking it from his hands as though you were ripping a child’s toy from his grasp.

You’re left utterly disappointed when the next player folds outright, and call the big blind, tossing into the pot your twenty thousand yen, with the small blind next to you adding in another ten thousand to his contribution. You almost thought telling the other woman at the table off for showing up and not even bothering to play, regardless of her reason for folding.

You set out the flop and lay three cards across the table: an ace of hearts, four of diamonds, and five of clubs.

How wonderfully the ace would suit your own ace of clubs and ace of diamonds. A four of a kind was a wonderful hand to have. You could bluff your way into raising the pot and put pressure on the other two men, surely ensuring your victory and fattening up your wallet.

“Bet,” says the player to your left, putting down fifteen thousand.

Touji looks downright bored, having now planted his elbow on the table and burying his cheek in his palm. “Raise,” he says simply, flicking sixty thousand’s worth of chips over. He almost bet forty thousand, but elected not to. Four was an unlucky number.

Was he joking? Your eyes narrow at him, indignant of your growing irritation as you say nothing. That was an asinine raise, and he fucking well knew it.

His smirk makes its reappearance. “What’re ya gonna do, babe? Call, re-raise, or fold?”

That smirk irks you and bolsters your intrigue all the same somehow, that damn scar of his stealing away your attention much more than it should. It was rather enrapturing watching how it moved with his lips, be it when he spoke or when they split to show off his white teeth in a simper. You cock your head to the side at him cattily. “I’m not your ‘babe,’ boy,” you shoot back.

Touji’s brows raise at you, silently articulating a very snarky “You think you’re going to get away with that?” with the simple movement, though to your surprise he says nothing. He takes his cheek out of his hand and leans on the table, eyeing you intently as the only player he gives a damn about.

You don’t even realise it, but you’ve been doing the very same thing the entire time, eyeing him as the only player you gave a damn about.

Without even looking you pluck your desired chips from the table and toss them into the pot. “Call.” You’re certain he’s trying to psyche you out, trying to rile you up and add even more into the pot by raising his bet to outdo him. That’s essentially what you were doing! No, keep a level head, and you’re fine.

“Sixty thousand...?” the man to your left mutters meekly, tossing in enough to amount to Touji’s raise. “Ugh.” He turns to Touji, his canned beer in hand. “The hell is your problem, man?”

Touji rolls his eyes at him, though.

With that you place the turn next, a three of diamonds.

Well, damn, another card of diamonds. The chances of your little friends having at least decent hands increases. But the guy to your left - he was only there because you needed the seat filled - was definitely hesitant to call that last bet. There’s no way he’s all that confident in his hand, and that raise put a hefty dent in everyone’s chips so early on. Not to mention Touji was probably just being a damned proud and greedy Zen’in.

Or a shit looking for a good giggle, you weren’t sure. He technically wasn’t a Zen’in anymore, after all.

“Ch-check.”

Your attention falls back on that shit-eating grin, expecting him to do something utterly stupid, like fold after pulling that stunt.

“Check.” He just shrugs.

“Check,” you utter, resisting the urge to do so through your teeth, before taking an otherwise elegant sip from your wine. It was best to keep your remaining chips after having that asinine raise.

And so you (attempt to) calmly deal the river, which is a two of diamonds. You glance to your left. Where the hell were all these diamonds coming from?!

Even if your fellow players managed a four of a kind hand somehow, having yours in aces meant your cards were superior.

“Nah, I’m out. Fold.”

And then to Touji. You lock eyes for what feels like a long moment, but you’re not sure how much time it took.

He tosses his cards onto the table, eyes staring you down. “Think I’ll fold, too.”

You nearly lose it. “Wha-!”

You bite back your bark, refusing to give him the satisfaction of riling you up, though the slight twitch of his lips and glimmer in his eyes tell you that you’ve already failed. Your fingers toy with the stem of your wineglass. “Are you sure?”

“Did I stutter?” He cocks his head out arrogantly at you, pointing a finger to the side of his messy black hair. “My bad, were ya too busy checkin’ me out to hear me?”

He was fucking with you.

So it was high time to fuck with him.

Your stoic facade catches fire and flutters away in ashes as you grin wide with closed eyes. “Yes, that’s exactly it!” you chirp, a lilt of mischief present. “It can’t be helped, but it’s not like you haven’t been mentally undressing me this entire time.” You open your eyes into dangerous slits, cocking your head to the side at his raised brows. “Right, Touji?”

“What, can ya blame me?” he remarks slyly, jutting his chin into the air. “Red looks damn fine on ya and all, but it’d look better off ya.”

Your other patrons gape in a mixture of awe and mortification at the lack of filter on either of your tongues, both unsure if they should say something and go, or stay and wait for whatever comes next.

Your grin returns, venomous as it was. “What a shame you’ll never know for certain, isn’t it?”

He says nothing and juts his bottom lip to the side, staring you down. What, cat got your tongue, Touji?

Touji was playing a game of push and pull with you. Snark at you one moment as he may, he’s quiet the next, or whenever he felt like it. He wasn’t easy to predict.

You clear your throat and gracefully set your cards face down on the table. “Well, anyway. I do apologise, but we will have to cut our gambling short tonight, friends.” You lean on the table and put a hand to your forehead, ignoring the discontent coming from your left and right, and fixating on the silent typhoon in front of you. “See, I’ve got this pounding in my head that’s just getting worse. If you’ll kindly leave, we can pick this up tomorrow night when I’m feeling well.”

The others put up a fuss that’s easy to ignore while you take a leisurely sip of your drink. You don’t give much thought to the mark of lipstick that glues itself to the shiny glass, while your eyes fixate on the shade of green burning in front of you. The other two left but he refused to budge, seemingly.

You rest your chin in your palm and lean against the table, and the diverting of his eyes to your chest isn’t all that inconspicuous. “What did you really come here for?” you ask plainly.

He shrugs at you, crooked smirk in place. “A good time, obviously.”

“Mhm.” You tilt your head at him almost innocently. “And have you met this goal?”

He abruptly stands up from his seat and sets his palms against the table, leaning over it to send a look of slight discontent and ire at you, though it was heavy with intrigue. “You rigged the game,” he says sternly, not at all a question and certainly a statement of fact.

You say nothing in response, instead electing to let him say his piece. You wondered if he honestly could have figured it out so quickly, especially without seeing your cards.

Touji points his thumb at the door indignantly. “The old man might’ve aged a bit, but I know who he is. He’s a curse user that’s old as dirt, whose technique manipulates luck.”

You nod. “That’s true. But if you think I ask him to use it on me specifically...” you point to the side of your head much like he had a few minutes ago, “you’re a dolt. Where’s the fun in cheating? There’s no challenge, no skill!” You pause, giving care to construct your next sentence. “Actually, the old man selects someone random to favour each game. His chosen man or woman has no idea what he does.”

“Ah, right,” he says sarcastically. “And that’s why you’ve never lost, huh?”

You leant back in your seat and rest your arms on the rests, your finger dangling off the stained wood lazily and your chest jutting out as your chin tucks down a little. “I don’t know who told you that, but they were lying through their teeth,” you drawled. It didn’t surprise you; some people liked to amp your reputation while others vowed to shatter it to filthy little pieces. Such was the life of a woman with power, it seemed. That’s fine, you’ve learned to live with it. Anyone whose opinion you would care for wouldn’t be the type to mind rumours and the like anyway.

You shrug. “Or it was a rumour repeated enough that people began to worship it as truth.” With a huff you stand from your seat and walk around to the opposite side of the table, leaning against it next to Touji, facing him. You tilt your head at him with the side of your hip to the table as he turns to look at you. “I have few rules around here. One of the most important rules is that I don’t invite one player at a time, so as to not favour anyone and to keep stakes high.”

“Don’t wanna go rufflin’ feathers, eh?” Touji takes the liberty of pulling his chair out to face you before he sits down, leaning back with an arm slung over the back of the chair and his knees spread wide.

“Pretty much.” Just for the fuck of it you don’t move or react to the purposeful, clear display of what he’s packing under those jeans. “I honestly have no idea who those people were. I just wanted an excuse to get you here,” you purr, cheeky grin in place. “I have to admit I was surprised you answered my invitation at all, pretty boy.”

Touji’s brows raise at you like before, like the last time you called him “boy.” Clearly, he wasn’t taking well to it, yet he did nothing in retaliation, and it fueled your tongue.

He smirks anyway. “Well, now you’ve got me. What’re ya gonna do to me, hotstuff?”

You push yourself off the table and step toward him until you stand between his knees. You lean down, fingers slithering up the side of his face, leisurely from his scar all the way up to his cheekbone. As you do so, you lean into his other ear. “I’m gonna strip you down of everything,” you whisper darkly, wording it carefully so as to imbue two meanings into the air.

Did you mean to rob him blind in a legitimate game of poker and strip him of everything he owned, or did you intend to strip him literally and keep him close all throughout the night?

Touji was going to fuck around and find out.

He gives a drawn-out whistle. “Is that an invitation to strip poker I hear?”

Your lips are split open with a proud, confident simper.

“It most certainly is, Touji.”

You can feel a rough hand slip between the slit in your dress before five fingers ghost your thigh, sending gooseflesh ablaze all over the limb. Even the simple, ever so slight touch was so much warmer than you anticipated, though even more warmth settled into your skin when his palm follows, hand gently groping the flesh of your thigh.

“Gives me quite the advantage, though, babe. You’re wearin’ a dress, after all.”

You stand upright with a flighty hand resting on his shoulder as your eyes bore down at him. “So? Who says you’ll even win?”

“Well, I do.”

There’s that smirk again. Just makes you wanna bite those snarky lips of his.

Your hand on his firm shoulder slides to the side of his neck. Oh, how you felt like burying it in hickies right now. “Fine, then I’ll slip off the top of my dress and leave the rest on as a skirt if I lose. Makes two pieces of clothing. Take your jacket off, and we’re even.”

Touji quirks a brow at you, though the expression fades. “Hey, aren’t ya gonna ask me nicely? I don’t like bein’ bossed around, ya know.” He cocks his head to the side, fake pout in place. “Even by pretty women like you.”

“Well, since you called me pretty, I guess I can cooperate,” you tease, bending at the waist to make eye contact with him, your faces a hand’s length apart. “Will you take your jacket off, please? For me?”

“No fuss here.” Touji lurches forward to rob you of autonomy of your lips, but with a proud giggle you jump back, and he misses. Your wink doesn’t alleviate your form of his playful glare even as you saunter around the table and gather up the cards, his eyes silently on you all the while. You grab the pack of cigarettes, their respective lighter, and the ashtray and slide them all his way after he beckons for them, with your not having pegged him as a smoker.

Then again, you heard he disliked alcohol, yet he seemed to almost jump for joy in his seat when it was placed in front of him earlier. He still hadn’t finished what he was given though. You guessed he wanted to avoid getting drunk in a casino of all places, which was very reasonable, albeit still had a taste for the intoxicating liquids. He takes off his jacket as you “asked” and tosses it onto the table where it wouldn’t be in the way.

You honestly hadn’t planned enticing him into a game of strip poker; it just so happened to, well, happen, and you weren’t complaining. As long as it ended your way, that is.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to skip the poker part and get right into the stripping, though, but oh well. This would be plenty of fun regardless.

“Now, are we gonna go all the way, or call it quits just before we can get to the good part?” he asks slyly, poking a cigarette between his lips and lighting away.

“Wouldn’t exactly be strip poker if we didn’t strip,” you chirp, making your way back around the table and shuffling the cards so he can see. You wondered if the old man’s technique was still active. It had apparently fallen on you earlier, and it was possible upon seeing the other patrons dip he released it. “I mean, if you didn’t strip.”

“Confident, how cute,” Touji snarks, then taking a long drag of the cigarette between his middle and index fingers before spewing smoke in a thin line. “Really think you’re gonna win, huh?” He stares you down as he drops ashes in the tray.

“Nope. I know I will, pretty boy.” You give him a wink.

Touji grins at you. “We’ll see about that, babe.”

You huff at him. “To start off I’ll bet my imaginary shirt, as well as my shoes,” you half-joke. “Oh, and if you’ve got socks on, we’ll just count them and your shoes as one item.”

Touji nods understandingly, agreeing, and bets his own shirt and shoes. The fire in his eyes hasn’t fluttered to embers yet. He eyes you closely as he downs a shot of sake before pouring another, cigarette pinched between his knuckles. His whole demeanor has changed, as though he was merely toying around earlier and has now began to take this seriously.

You deal your two cards and Touji’s, then burn the card atop the deck and set out three cards as the flop.

A seven of clubs, a queen of diamonds, and a five of diamonds lays out in front of you..

Meanwhile, you have a six of clubs and a three of spades.

You had two problems before you: one, the old man deactivated his technique; two, he transplanted his technique onto Touji. Given your hand, you were in murky water either way.

You couldn’t read him. You had no tells or mannerisms to decipher. That made you worry.

With a terse brow you deal the turn next: a jack of diamonds.

You could go for a straight. But that’s all you have, and the chance that he had something better was fairly high. There was still a chance he had something worse, though, so you tried to stay fairly optimistic. Had there been other players, you probably could get him to fold, but with two players playing strip poker it wasn’t all that useful. If he had a bad hand and folded, he’d lose clothing, and if he had a bad hand and followed through to the showdown, he’d lose clothing. There was no point.

You place your hand on the deck, reaching for the river, but before you can say anything, Touji waves a lazy hand at you. “Nah, I’m good,” he says through the remaining half of the cigarette.

You deal the river, and your blood runs cold.

A king of spades.

There goes your straight. You had nothing. Time for the showdown.

“Hey, wait.” Touji takes a deep drag. “We didn’t talk about the prize for winnin’.” Smoke escapes from his lips with every syllable, and goddamn was it mesmerizing to watch. You missed what he said because of it, so focused with watching the smoke run amok in the air and the movement of his scarred lips.

You look at him confused, your hand reaching for your wine stopping midair. “What?”

He shrugs at you before resting the cigarette between his lips again. “We didn’t pick a prize.”

“But isn’t keeping your dignity and modesty the ‘prize’ of strip poker?” you ask, not following where he was going, your voice half teasing and half confused.

Touji chuckles a deep and quiet chuckle at you, and chills run up your spine at hearing it. “I didn’t have any of that to begin with,” he cracks. “Besides, that’s boring. Let’s make it an ‘if I win, if you win’ sort of thing.”

Your brow quirks involuntarily at the mischievous glint that takes over his eyes, replacing what was once stoic. Then that smirk returns, and your own mischief arises somewhat.

“So if I win,” he starts, putting out the used up cigarette in the tray, “you have to sit on my lap.”

Really? That was it? No dance, even?

Maybe he was giving you the chance to surprise him if you lost.

“Okay. If I win...” You think for a second, lips pouting in concentration before you shrug. “You have to start coming here regularly.”

“That’s quite demanding.” He smirks at you. “High maintenance, are we?”

You give him a toothy simper and wink in response. “Always. Now, let’s showdown.”

The two of you place your cards on the table, and upon landing on his cards, your eyes widen. He had... two pairs, with fours and sevens. Meanwhile, you had nothing.

“Alright, hotstuff!” he beams confidently, twirling a finger in the air. “Get to strippin’ for me.”

Well, you knew it was coming.

Without a word you unclasp your high heels at the back of your heel before sliding them off and dropping them atop the table. Directly looking Touji in the eye, you slowly unzip your dress at the side and slide it off your torso just as leisurely, letting it gather at your lap and around your hips. Not having worn any bra or padding of any sort, your tits are out in the open and bare for him to take in their glory - which he does conspicuously.

“Be a dear and don’t just say ‘nice tits’” you interject cattily when he opens his mouth to speak.

Touji chuckles that chuckle again. “Alright. Nice nips, then.”

You can’t deny the flush that rises up your neck to your cheeks at the... compliment(?), though it somehow reminds you rather quickly that it wasn’t exactly warm in the room. It was, in fact, too cool for having worn such a dress. You had pushed it aside and ignore it, but there was no ignoring it now. Especially by your perky, hardening nipples.

“You just wait,” you shoot back. “Soon enough I’ll be gawking at yours.”

He’s enjoying this; the smirk cracking open his lips tells you as much. “Ya say that like it’s a bad thing. Go for it, babe.”

You gather the cards and proceed as normal, though this time your upper half and feet are bare.

“What’re you betting?” you ask. “I have one outer layer left.”

“Well,” he grunts, shifting in his seat to rest his ankle on the other knee, “since ya wanna see me shirtless so badly, I’ll bet that.”

You playfully scoff at him as you deal your respective cards and then the flop. This time you’re blessed with two of the same suit, consisting of a nine and two of hearts. Okay. Have to start somewhere.

You glance at the flop, noting that one of the three matches your suit. The others aren’t any help to you. All the while Touji is silent, having apparently lit up another cigarette, though he was taking his time with this one, as if savouring it. You say nothing.

Next you deal the turn and internally claim your victory prematurely, as it also followed your suit. A jack it was. Without any banter between the two of you, this round was passing quickly. Touji was still clearly amused, though, by the smirk that widened and tilt of his head when you made eye contact. You wondered why he was quiet with you topless in front of him, and if you were being honest, you were getting impatient; maybe even a bit nervous.

The river comes out as an ace of hearts. Ha! A flush! Much better.

“Drop ‘em,” you say triumphantly, then placing your cards down to reveal your flush.

Touji makes a noise you can’t decipher and lays down his cards. “All I got is a three of a kind.” He almost seems surprised, though not in a negative way.

“Your turn to strip, hotstuff.” You giggle at him as you throw the nickname back at Touji, who holds up his hands in the air amidst defeat with a playful grin. Soon thereafter he grabs the hem of his shirt and slips it off in one smooth go, sliding it over his back and against his hair, which becomes an utter mess as a result. You rest your elbow on the table and set your chin in the palm of your hand, taking in the sight of chiseled muscles and very apparent veins dancing all over the exposed, surprisingly only rarely scarred skin in front of you. Your eyes certainly lingered on the few scars there, though, and you bit your lip.

You previously thought that with his line of work, scars would come in faster than his paychecks, especially given his reputation. But maybe he had more skill than his rep let on, and so he dodged scarring like he dodged commitment.

You’d planned to wolf whistle just to tease him, but you’re much too impressed and enraptured with what you see to do so. You shift in your seat almost anxiously, biting your tongue. You snap yourself out of it and swallow heavily, before sipping your alcohol.

“Nice nips,” you joke while you set down the sparkly clear glass back onto the table. It’s empty, now.

Touji leans back in his seat and pulls his shoulders back. “Aren’t they? Take ‘em in all you want, sweetcheeks. Won’t bother me.”

You laugh. Maybe it was the alcohol bringing about your rising giddy intoxication, or maybe it was Touji himself. You had to admit, the atmosphere was getting surprisingly comfortable, casual and you didn’t expect that. This dangerous, deadly man had you going from intrigued, to vexed and wanting to pull your hair out, to challenging and wanting to crush him, to wanting him and all of him - all in the span of one night.

You reflected on this as you played the next round before your untimely loss, your luck apparently having run out.

“Aha!” Touji claps his hands together triumphantly in one loud smack.

“Hush, you,” you playfully snip before rising to your feet. Your dress is just barely held up by the tension of its tightness hugging your figure, though it’s not so tight that you’ll have difficulty sliding it down. Making direct eye contact with a little smirk, ever so slowly you dig your thumbs into the fabric and push the dress down whilst wiggling and writhing your hips, partly to help aid the fabric past your hips and partly as a show for Touji, who drinks it right up. He watches you intently, cigarette between his lips and whiskey tumbler in hand, a rather enraptured and hungry look to his eyes.

Once the dress is down low enough, you bend over slightly to let it slip past your knees before standing upright again to show off your black lacy, tiny panties. They’re honestly not covering much of anything, a small triangle hiding away your soft cunt, another at your asscheeks, and strings with a tinge of lace to hold it all together. You’re sure to tug the string at the side of your hip as you sit down, letting it go and snapping it against your plump skin before your ass reaches the seat.

“Cute, huh?” you ask, voice innocent but intentions and meaning clearly anything but.

“Black,” he says huskily, “my favourite.”

“I always try to pander toward my patrons in some way,” you say, fake song of gratitude dancing from your lips. “Happy to hear that.”

Touji takes down another shot of sake and sets the empty cup aside before giving his lips a quick lip, which admittedly makes you squirm. “C’mon,” he makes a shooing motion at the cards, “hurry and deal the last round. I’m itchin’ to have ya on my lap.” He says the last bit with a wide smirk, and honestly, it’s an understatement. Touji knew the moment he saw you that he wanted your pretty little form against him, ready for him to touch, caress, and manhandle as he pleased. Oh, to have those legs pinned up against your chest as he pounds into you-

Ah, shit.

It’s over before you, on the other hand, know it. Maybe it was your giddiness, maybe the alcohol, or maybe this smooth asshole was riling up you and your hormones, you didn’t know. It didn’t really matter honestly.

You sigh. “Alright, that’s my loss.”

“And my win,” he cuts in happily, leaning back in his seat lazily. “Oi, let me be a gentleman and take them off for you, will ya?”

You genuinely contemplate his remark for a second, nearly considering actually letting him slip down your panties just for the hell of it. “Sorry, darling, but that wasn’t in the deal.”

“Damn.”

With a giggle, you hop up from your seat and curl your thumbs in the straps of your panties, rolling the tiny bits of lace a little as you do so. “Can’t blame you for trying, pretty boy,” you joke, just before you begin to slide them down. In response Touji shrugs in his own form of defeat, then adjusting himself in his seat to accommodate a comfortable space for you to sit your lovely, bare ass on.

Touji watches silently, intensely, as you roll the silken panties down and drop them loose once they reach your knees. He eyes you up and down unashamedly while you stand up straight, your arms held out to the side as if to show off your figure. You were a treat to look at, to say the least.

He motions you over again with a smirk.

“C’mon over, babe. Don’t be shy.”

#jjk #touji x reader #toji x reader #fushiguro toji #fushiguro touji #toji smut #touji smut #zen'in toji #zen'in touji #jjk x reader #jjk smut #don't yell at me for romanising his name as touji instead of toji lmao

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