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loserlvrss · 5 months ago

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face yoon jeonghan (윤정한)

authors note // this story isn't supposed to be very heavy !! something light with an eventual happy ending c: ive been sitting with this idea for literal years, so i hope its good. a full playlist will eventually be made, but kr&b is what i listened to while writing it (along with the chapter songs i link at the beginning)

chapter theme warnings // language, angst, unplanned pregnancy, implied suicidal thoughts, topics of pregnancy & babies in general

word count // 2.3k

prologue: face: songs: 1 2 3 4

You kissed your child’s head, ruffling the short chestnut locks. Your kid’s hair was slightly different than yours—Texture wise—also lightening or darkening further in various settings. However, you only realized that because you were his mother, and it was basically your job to know everything about your son.

There was laughter and quieted screams meeting your ears; other children and childcare workers who were playing in the background as you were just finishing dropping him off.

“I’ll see you after work, Jae. I'll bring you the cupcake you like, okay?”

Jae grabbed your face with soft hands, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek and then bringing you into a hug. You stood up and watched as he skipped off, joining a group who he’s expressed (with the confirmation of the childcare workers) are his best friends.

You were always beyond proud of your son for being able to spread so much love to the world, despite not having the smoothest upbringing—or frankly, an example of unconditional love (despite yours for him). You wanted to feel proud of yourself, but knew that it was all Jae’s interpretation of the world around him. He loved everyone and everything; in the purest form, he found beauty. He was the best kid you’ve ever met, but maybe you were just biased.

“He’s truly a beautiful kid, looks just like you.” You met eyes with the woman who worked the sign-in and out desk. “Laughs and smiles all the time; Gets along with everyone… Even the kids that people don’t seem to gravitate towards. He hates to see them left out. Good job with him, miss y/n.”

“Thank you.” You replied, forcing a smile to surface. You couldn’t help the bittersweet feeling that left a lump in your throat. You knew exactly why it always bothered you though; he looks just like you. But nobody knew he looked almost uncanny to his father at this age. He didn’t have your eyes, nor mouth, nor cheekbones. All Jae had, in your eyes, was part of your personality and nose.

You tried time and time again, staring at your son as he’d nap, to find what people would point-out. But you never did, and that seemed to bother you more than you’d like to admit. So, what should’ve been a compliment was always hard for you to swallow.

“I’ll see you at five-thirty!”

She nodded behind the desk. “He’ll be all ready for you.”

You let the door swing behind you, a slight shake to your hands as you found your keys. It was beginning to look and feel like spring, and soon the cherry blossoms would bloom, meaning you’d have your annual outing with Jae to see them before they fell. You’d take a day off work and keep him home from preschool, taking him out for lunch and ice cream, letting him play at the nearby park after until his little heart's contempt.

You loved that day, and you looked forward to it all year round. It was peace of mind, and there seemed like little responsibility when it was just you two enjoying life.

The days seemed to pass slowly nowadays, and maybe that was because now that you were getting older, you were repeating the same routine like clockwork. It was a never-ending Groundhog’s Day, where you could only hope to find the escape to the time-loop.

The car came to a stop, and you put it in park quickly after. Your head fell atop your chilled hands that gripped the steering wheel still. You let out a sigh, a breath that forever seemed to be stuck in your lungs. As you collected yourself, you also collected your purse from the passenger seat, taking your keys and clenching them tightly.

The beep of a car locking was familiar to you as it met your ears, causing you to turn and look. Meeting your sights was the black vehicle that belonged to your coworker, as well as said person, who hadn’t noticed you yet.

“Wonwoo?” You asked, slightly confused as to why he was scheduled at the same time as you on a Monday, rather than a Friday or Wednesday; like usual, however, your shifts overlapped quite often.

His sharp, cat-like features were on full display, glasses within his forefinger and thumb as he cleaned the lenses. He was wearing dark-washed, wide leg jeans, and a white T-shirt—One that looked as if he had bought it recently—His hair was falling effortlessly, only moving slightly with the gentle gusts of wind.

You always thought he looked like the lead of a drama, a sought after actor that attended fashion shows and got awards, not someone who worked at a bakery, like you.

You had started working before him, right after you had dropped out of Seoul University, 7 weeks into your pregnancy with Jae. You were a confused, hormonal, soon-to-be mother who had no one to rely on. But you always thought that Wonwoo deserved more than what he was left with, and sometimes you regretted not being that comfort for him, as he always was for you.

He’d run to the convenience store, mid-shift, just because you kept talking about triangle kimbap or a watermelon bar. He’d cover for you when you’d get ill and run to the bathroom with a hand slapped over your face. And when your due date got closer, he’d walk you to your car just to help you get in comfortably.

You two weren’t even far off in age, and maybe that’s why you knew deep down it was because he pitied your circumstance: Single, pregnant, and borderline suicidal. All your plans had been thrown out like trash the moment you took the test, the moment you fought with your ex, breaking up after 4 years together.

Every single promise for a better life—A happy life—Was washed away with the rain. And even if you weren’t technically alone, you felt as if the world had shut you out. Now it’s been 4 years, and you’ve gotten used to the feeling of uncertainty. You lived for Jae, and that always should’ve been enough. However, you felt guilty for thinking of a time when he didn’t exist, when he wasn’t even a thought in the back of your mind. If you could go back in time, you were sure you wouldn’t change anything, because Jae was your lifeline, the one thing in this world that kept you going. But, the tears that streamed down your face on particularly painful nights told a different side to you, one that mirrored the 22 year old who got shattered and left to become nothing but dust.

You couldn’t help but think that life would’ve been easier if you were prepared for it. If you had Jae when you were 26 or 27 like you had planned on. If you had finished your business degree and opened your own company with your boyfriend. Life would’ve been smooth sailing. But instead, you were left with barely enough money to keep the lights on, and many cupcakes to keep a smile on your son’s face after long shifts.

“Are you okay?” The voice broke you from the painful thoughts that plagued your subconscious. “Y/n? Is it Jae, is he okay?”

You nodded in an unconstant pattern, slowly moving your head up to level your eyes. Your eyebrows creased slightly, but that was only because you were having a hard time pushing your mind in the right direction.

“Yeah, he’s fine.”

“Are you?” He approached you as you leaned against the driver’s door. “Did something happen?”

His concern would’ve seemed out of character if you didn’t know him, but turned down lips and straight faces were only surface level. He might’ve looked cold, but you’ve never met anyone warmer.

“Just tired, that’s all.” You replied, crossing your arms. Your bag hung against your front and you wondered the time. You weren’t running late after dropping Jae off, but even if you were, your manager for the night was standing in front of you—And, Wonwoo would never write you up. “Been thinking a lot recently… Well, we should go in and help Minjoon before she scolds us.”

He laughed. “She is a terrifying highschooler.”

“Scariest I've ever met.” You mimicked a shiver, pushing off the metal and awaiting Wonwoo to join you. “I can already see her glare.”

He did promptly, holding the glass door open for you. You brushed past him, viewing the many people lined up and a seething highschool girl at the register; Whether it was because you were technically 3 minutes late or because of a customer was up for interpretation.

You apologized silently as you made eye-contact with the girl, walking around the open corner of the front desk and to the back to put your stuff away. There were various lockers, each having a name for the employees of the bakery—Not that there were that many to begin with.

You opened the one with your whiteboard-markered name, and put your purse on the shelf. Inside there was a picture of you and Jae as well as an old note from Minjoon that read I hope all is well, but I'm going to kill you, because you were late, much like today. However that day it was because Jae was sick and whining about everything; His babysitter had given him the flu earlier that week.

Of course though, Wonwoo covered for you when you called in tears. And after he even brought some food to your apartment, which was across town from his own, and let you vent in your dimly-lit kitchen until way too late. He even took your shift when you caught the virus from your son sneezing in your face.

You sighed again, shutting the door closed with the quiet bang of metal on metal. Your hand clutched where your heart would be if it wasn’t scared out of your chest.

On the other side was Minjoon, who was leisurely propped against her own locker. “You two came in together. You’re both late… Together?”

She eyed you as you tried to explain, “We met in the parking lot.” And even though it was the truth, she made you feel as if it wasn’t. Her arms were crossed, looking awfully like your mother would have if she was still around. “We just walked in together, don’t get the wrong idea.”

“Oh, why would I?” She voiced, nose turned to the ceiling. “It definitely wouldn’t be because you two are always together, and Wonwoo would do literally anything for you. No, that would be ridiculous to think.” You deadpanned, knowing it was true, but a misunderstanding. You didn’t like Wonwoo, you don’t see how you could, considering your situation. “If I didn’t know you two I would think Jae was his.”

Your heart sank, and maybe it was the insinuation of people making assumptions that hurt you. Did Jae need a father to be valid in other people’s eyes? That’s probably not what she meant, but nonetheless it’s where your head went.

“It’s not a bad thing, but if you two start dating, please don’t let me catch you guys making out in here. I’d have to bill you for therapy, and then quit.”

You mimicked her lean. “God forbid you don’t have any money to buy albums. What would you do without your Jungkook photocards?”

“Die.” She replied simply. “I’d die.”

Before you had a chance to call her dramatic, Wonwoo popped through the door.

“Could you guys help me? It’s about to be time for our morning rush.”

You jumped off the locker, hustling out the door to assist your manager with the heaps of business men and women on their commute to work, or influencers looking for a pretty picture. You rarely had the in between, but sometimes on a blue moon, you’d get the random straggler who just wanted a sweet treat.

“I rest my case!” You heard being shouted as you let the door close behind you. “It would just be a crazy thought, wouldn’t it!”

You met his side, taking the filled cup from his hand and putting a lid on it. “Sorry.” You took over the last of the three drinks, thankful it was simply just a black coffee.

“Gonna have to start writing you up for being so distracting, y/n.” He joked, grabbing a croissant and placing it within a brown wax bag. You smiled apologetically. “I’ll go do the register.”

“Are you sure? I could get Minjoon to do it again.”

You nodded, placing a comforting hand against his arm. “No, it’s okay. I’ll do it, it’ll distract me from my thoughts.”

Wonwoo reluctantly agreed, because he may technically be your boss but you rarely listened to him, and he knew it was no use arguing if it was only going to lead to you doing it anyway. You appreciated his sentiment, and his eagerness to make sure you were comfortable, however it was almost always at his or someone else’s expense.

You were an adult—A big girl—Who should be able to handle a little bit of stress. But maybe Wonwoo knew you were just a ticking time-bomb, awaiting that last second before you exploded. He seemingly knew you well enough after four years. Everything might’ve been getting a little too much recently, and yes, maybe you felt lost sometimes, but you, in reality, had no will to give up. Not when it was Jae at risk—He already didn’t have a father, why would you leave him motherless as well? He was just as big a priority to you a little over 4 years ago, as he is today. You’d sacrifice everything for your child. And, truthfully, you didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing.

tag list: @yyangj3lly | send an ask to be added! masterlist next part

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notiddygothgf · 1 year ago

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PROLOGUE

★ pairings: nanami kento x f! reader

★ synopsis: In the search for solace, Nanami stumbles right into the arms of an exotic dancer. In the search for money, an exotic dancer finds more than she bargained for. In the heat of the moment, a contractual relationship turns into something more. (or; the one where sugar daddy!nanami is sweet on his girl)

★ c.w.: drinking (more content warnings and tags)

★ a/n: OMG! im so excited to finally start publishing this fanfic. ive been sitting on it for a minute. DISCLAIMER LOL I dont condone the behavior observed in this story (even if I myself would have done it in a heartbeat) anything for papa nanami. im so normal about him (I have daddy issues). if ur new around here, say hi! if you've read my other ffs then welcome back teehee. chapter is not beta'd. we die like men. (I would recommend listening to the song while u read)

★ w.c.; 3k

my kinda love; chapter index

THE HORRORS. He dreamt about them often. Most of his dreams were of a similar nature; long, detailed, brutal. Bloody, at times. When he wasn’t kept up by the memories, he was dreaming about them – as if they had followed him into his slumber. When he woke up, his burdens were heavy on his shoulders. He would repeat this cycle every day.

He was compensated rather well for his traumas. Well was an understatement. Maybe it wasn’t… after all, no amount of money could ever possibly make up for the things he had seen.

He repeated the same cycle every single day.

“Nanami?” A soft voice shook him out of his reverie. It was his therapist – a woman of short stature with long, brown hair and a business-casual outfit on.

He raised his brows, doing his best to appear as if he had been listening the entire time. “Yes?”

“I asked you if you’ve had any romantic pursuits recently,” She answered. Her smile was warm, patient, but the clipboard in her lap said otherwise. He was paying for her time. “Any efforts to let new people into your life…?”

Nanami’s face wore a blank expression. He fiddled with the hands folded neatly in his lap. “As in… dating?”

“Dating counts, yeah,” She nodded. She tapped the edge of her purple pen against the page rhythmically while she awaited his reply.

He thought of the innumerable faceless women he had spent the evening with. He thought of warm mouths, soft lips, and supple bodies; Countless beautiful women he had tricked into thinking they had a chance at something more than a one night stand. Every time a potential suitor came along, he found himself being scared away by intimacy.

Not sex. He was no stranger to that, nor to its remarkable ability to take his mind off of the stress. It was what lurked in the shadows that daunted him – the lingering touches, the good morning messages, the heartfelt gestures. He could handle it when he was the one dishing it out, but the moment the energy was returned, every single time, he would find himself running away.

It was a dangerous game. He knew he was an evil, cold-hearted, bad man. A part of him wished he could have done right by those select women he had courted (for rather brief periods of time). The more sensible part of him knew he simply didn’t have the time nor the energy to confront his issues and commit to a single woman.

So he continued to ignore his problems – finding comfort in a warm bed and a warm body whenever he could. Sex made for one hell of an emotional crutch when it was the only thing that seemed to make you feel anything other than indifference.

Indifference. That was the only thing he felt these days. That, and the rush – the pursuit of animalistic passion in favor of neglecting his personal qualms. The temporary escape from his permanent issues.

“I’ve had quite a few,” He answered after a pause that seemed to stretch on for a moment too long. “Commitment is a bit of an issue for me, still, but I’m making an effort to work on it.”

Only partially a lie.

“That’s great, Nanami!” She smiled. She clicked her pen against the page, scribbling something down before she turned her attention back to him. “Tell me more about that effort. Have you been letting those emotional walls down?”

He fought the urge to grit his teeth together at her inquiry. If you can call ghosting three women in the last month and a half letting walls down.

“I’ll be honest,” He sighed. Sitting back in his leather loveseat, he crossed one leg over the other. “I’m starting to believe I’m unable to open up to another person on that level.”

“Don’t say that, Nanami,” She scribbled something down. Her eyes weren’t even on him when she uttered this. “I think you just need to put yourself out there a little more. Ease yourself into that intimacy you typically shy away from.”

Put myself out there.

He thought again of the countless women he had been with.

“Forgive me for being vulgar,” He admitted. “But I think I have enough sex.”

“Not that,” She laughed quietly, shaking her head. “Intimacy and sex are two completely different things, Nanami – though they often intersect. You should try exploring non-sexual intimacy with a partner.”

“Non-sexual intimacy…” He reiterated. The term felt foreign as it rolled off of his tongue. “What do you mean by that?”

Was that what he had been missing? Non-sexual intimacy?

“Letting someone be vulnerable with you – being vulnerable with someone. The softness, that stuff that makes a relationship more than just physical. Other than love, that is,” She answered. Her manicured fingers smoothed over the page before flipping it. She was like clockwork. “There’s something healing about having a soft and, in your case, feminine presence in your life that you can be vulnerable with.”

“I’ve thought about it, but I’ve never acted,” He said. Casting a sideways glance at the analog clock on her desk, he asked, “Does that make me selfish? Shying away from non-sexual intimacy because I don’t understand it – even though I allow myself to indulge in sexual intimacy?”

“It makes you human, I think,” She smiled softly, writing something else down. Her brown eyes flitted up to meet him with unfounded warmth. “You should try letting someone in, Nanami. Might be worth a shot. What do you have to lose?”

Everything, was his first thought.

“I suppose you’re right,” He sighed anyway.

The faint buzz of the neon sign before him grew louder as he approached it. It was hardly audible over the deep buzz of the bass coming from the other side of the door. The words “Cat House” blinked periodically, illuminating his tired face in its glow each time.

“You’re taking him to a strip club?” Nanami grumbled. Still, shutting the door of the sleek black vehicle behind him, he glanced at the glowing pink sign. “The kid is turning 21.”

After his white-haired-blue-eyed long-term-acquaintance stepped out from the other side of the SUV, the driver pulled off. Gojo wiped his hands off on the fabric of his suit. “Not just any strip club! My favorite strip club!”

“You’re a regular,” He sighed, shaking his head. “Of course you are.”

“You, my friend, need to learn how to have some fun,” Gojo hummed. He brushed past Nanami, making his way to the stairway that undoubtedly descended to the entrance. “Yuuji’s gonna love it!”

Nanami followed after Gojo, flicking his cigarette onto the ground below his feet. His footsteps crunched against the gravel pathway. “If this is what your definition of fun is, I don’t think you should have been the one planning out his birthday.”

“What would you have done? Take him to an arcade?” Gojo waved him off. He nodded towards the door the two men now stood in front of. “Kid’s 21, not 12. Let’s go inside.”

"Hard pass," Nanami answered calmly. He straightened his tie out, suddenly feeling rather overdressed for the occasion – especially considering the kind of establishment this was .

"Yes we are."

"I have better things to do."

"Like what? Moping and pouting at home?" Gojo interjected, reaching for his arm – which Nanami quickly pulled out of his grasp. “It’s Yuuji’s birthday. Go celebrate with a lapdance, or something.

Gojo grabbed his arm again. Getting the strong feeling that he would simply try again if he pulled his arm away, Nanami let him.

“I will be doing nothing of the sort,” He grumbled. Still, he allowed Gojo to pull him into the entryway.

A low and seductive saxophone medley poured out from the speakers, and Nanami nearly considered turning back there and then. Gojo – with Nanami in tow – approached a rather scantily clad woman near the door.

“Hi, doll. Party for Itadori?” He asked.

The hostess nodded. Gathering a few menus, she stepped out from behind the counter – wearing nothing more than a micro skirt and a bikini top. “Right this way,” she said.

The two men followed her into the club. Everything – everything – was pink. As pink as Yuuji’s hair, with red chairs and booths scattered throughout. It looked like the place had been designed by fucking Cupid himself. There were dozens of dancers strutting around the place – all of which wore tiny skirts and tight tops.

Nanami didn’t miss the way Gojo’s eye’s trailed over the hostess’s ass while she led them over to their booth.

“The dancers here are phenomenal," Gojo said to him, raising his voice so that he was louder than the music. The stage was surrounded by at least 15 tables, all of which were packed with very excited-looking men. Conveniently enough, their table sat front-and-center to the stage.

"Can I get you started with something to drink?” The woman said, gesturing to the booth. “Or would you like to wait for the rest of your party?”

Gojo sank into one of the cushiony chairs at the table, and Nanami did the same. The cushion was a bright red velour. It was soft – he really didn’t wanna think about what sort of stories the chair could tell.

“A strawberry margarita for me, please– extra dirty,” Gojo answered. He didn’t even have to look at the menu. Fuckin’ party animal.

The lady nodded, then turned her gaze to Nanami.

He had to think for a moment before he asked. “Do you have wine?”

“Yeah,” She hummed. “What kind?”

“Merlot, please,” He answered. “Bring the whole bottle.”

The lady nodded, and again, he caught the way Gojo shamelessly stared at the woman's ass as she walked away. Once he was certain they were alone, he asked his eccentric friend, "The drinks any good here?"

"You ask that after you order a whole bottle of it?" The man chuckled, crossing one leg over the other and rather conspicuously nudging Nanami’s leg with his foot. "They’re alright. The key is to get wasted enough that they taste better.”

That’s terrible advice. Nanami knew better than to try to argue with Gojo. He had long since learned his lesson. Instead, he tried to see the bright side of the whole situation. Perhaps this night out would help him take his mind off of everything

Yuuji and his friends had arrived only thirty minutes earlier, and they were already drunk. They were cackling loudly – so loudly that they were beginning to draw attention. Gojo, wiping away tears from laughing so hard, was clapping his hands together in amusement.

There was a brief moment of silence, during which Gojo went for the tequila bottle and poured everyone another round of shots. The clear liquid seemed to catch the light just slightly, just enough that it glistened as he raised his glass.

“Lovely students, gather ‘round!” He slurred, a drunken sparkle in his eyes. He tapped the side of his glass with a metal fork – the resulting clink cut right through the laughter.

The group hushed as all eyes focused on him. “I want to make a toast!” He announced after a dramatic pause. He glanced at poor Yuuji, with his “birthday girl” sash and matching tiara, and proclaimed, “I wanna thank all of you for gathering here to celebrate our beloved birthday girl’s special night!”

All eyes turned to Yuuji, who wore a dopey, beaming grin.

Gojo stood up from his chair, bringing the glass of tequila with him. Nanami watched with moderate intrigue – only because there was a 50% chance that his alcoholic beverage could wind up all over his shirt.

“To Yuuji!” he declared, raising his glass high.

The group raised their glasses together. For a moment, Nanami felt a warmth in his chest – a rare moment of contentment amidst all of the chaos. Everyone was okay. They were here . Happy.

“To Yuuji!” They echoed.

He raised my own glass a moment too late, then threw it down the hatch. The bitter taste of the liquor as it flowed down Nanami’s throat and warmed his chest was not unwelcome.

Yuuji, however, nearly gagged on his, swallowing slowly before erupting into a fit of coughs.

Laughter erupted once again, and Nobara affectionately patted Yuuji on the back. As the group continued to revel in the celebration, the lights dimmed.

"Oh shit, I think the show is starting," Yuuji exclaimed.

"Quiet down, everyone! Gojo chimed in, his usual exuberance heightened by the alcohol.

As the lights dimmed even more, the atmosphere shifted. The group settled into their seats, anticipation filling the air. Yuuji, still wearing his birthday girl sash, looked around with wide eyes, a goofy grin plastered on his face.

The curtains gracefully rolled open just a moment later, ushering in a pulsating beat as a shadow emerged from the stage's depths. Gojo couldn't help but nearly roll his eyes at the sheer absurdity of it all. Gliding effortlessly to the stage's forefront was the dancer, adorned in a fetching ensemble—a pretty pink G-string paired with a matching corset adorned with little embroidered hearts. Her hair was styled into two low pigtails, and from where Nanami stood, he couldn't deny she was, well, kind of pretty.

The rhythmic beat filled the restaurant as the dancer began to sway her hips, accompanied by the provocative lyrics.

‘Tell nobody I control you

I broke you just to hold you,’

She placed a hand on her shoulder, trailing it around her neck before seductively sliding it down her glimmering, scantily-clad chest. The spotlight painted her feminine silhouette with hues of pink and red, and Nanami couldn't resist letting his gaze drift a little lower.

‘They can’t tell, but I love you,’

Grasping the pole behind her, the dancer executed snakelike hip movements. Her hands remained wrapped around the pole as she pressed her back against it, biting her bottom lip in a tantalizing squat. Legs opened, hips gyrating, she beckoned the audience forward. Nanami's eyes dropped below the belt once more as her body rippled enticingly to the beat.

‘Cause you’re loyal, baby,

I love when you’re submissive,’

She was undeniably gorgeous. Her attire accentuated her curves, and her movements exuded confidence and sensuality.

‘Love it when I break skin,’

Gojo, in his usual flamboyant manner, clapped his hands and whistled at the dancer. Nanami turned to him, eyebrows raised in surprise, as if silently conveying, "She's hot." Gojo simply smiled in return.

‘You feel pain without flinchin’...

So say it…’

She stepped around the pole, so that her long, athletic legs were spread in front of it, her back was straight, and her hands were clasped around the pole above her head. She demanded attention – something reflected by the hoots and whistles resonating throughout the room.

‘Give me tough love,’

Slowly, she slid into a squat.

‘Leave me with nothing when I come down,

My kinda love,’

From there, she crawled onto her hands and knees, arching her back, rolling her hips against the floor in a way that had Nanami’s eyes blinking rapidly. She grinded and crawled, eventually transitioning onto her back, where she backbended and then cartwheeled onto her feet again.

‘Push me and choke me ‘til I pass out.’

His jaw would have been on the floor if he didn’t have an image to uphold.

Returning to her confident strides around the pole, she stopped to roll her body against it, smoothing her hands over her smooth bottom, eyes scanning the audience. Sliding her hands up her inner thighs, she flipped her hair up and then rolled back up slowly. She dropped down into another squat, then – spinning on the balls of her feet – she rolled over the floor, kicking her legs up into a split, hands on the ground, back arched.

‘ We don’t gotta be in love, no,

I don’t gotta be the one, no’

She’s amazing, he found himself thinking.

She rolled onto her stomach, pushed herself back onto her knees, and arched her back – all while running her hands over her torso, her waist. Her hips rolled forward, making a little riding motion that made Nanami reconsider his harsh words towards his comrade earlier in the evening.

‘I just wanna be one of your girls tonight’.

Spinning around to face the crowd on her knees, she crawled onto her hands and knees. She arched her back slowly, sensually – in an almost feline fashion – with her ass and heels pointed up.

She pushed herself onto her feet, hands holding her heels, rolling up slowly again – this time dagging her hand up the length of her smooth, long legs. She reached for the pole, rolling her body against it.

‘Push me down, hold me down,

Spit in my mouth while you turn me out,’

Is she even going to use the pole? Nanami wondered. He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. It looked difficult – something he could never imagine himself being able to do. And, shit, for what it was worth, she was putting on one hell of a show without it.

‘I wanna take your light inside,

Dim me down, snuff me out,

Hands on my neck while you push it out,

And I’m screamin’ out’

She hooked her leg around the pole – as if she had heard Nanami’s internal inquiry, and flipped up onto it. In one smooth motion, she seemed to defy gravity. Her legs were pointed up, straight towards the ceiling as the pole rotated slowly. Then, before Nanami could catch his breath, her legs split open.

‘Give me tough love,

Leave me with nothin’ when I come down.’

She looked so fucking… perfect, so remarkable. He found himself entirely hypnotized by her. Her back was arched, pressed up against the pole – hell, her whole body was bent backward. He had never seen someone do an upside down split in mid air with only their hands as support, let alone do it so effortlessly.

‘My kinda love,

Force me and choke me ‘til I pass out.’

Her eyes scanned the shouting crowd with a seductive expression. She wrapped her legs around the back of the pole. Then, still upside down, she relaxed her grip on the base of the pole, sliding down until her hands met the ground.

He was surprised her breasts hadn’t spilled out of their containers by now.

‘We don’t gotta be in love, no

I don’t gotta be the one, no,

I just wanna be one of your girls tonight.’

In one fluid motion, she opened her legs and cartwheeled away from the pole. She sauntered up to the front of the stage again, sliding her hands up her hips, her stomach, her chest, her neck. Nanami’s eyes followed her hands hungrily on their journey up, and then again on their way down, down, down. With her hands on her knees, she sunk into a squatting position.

‘We don’t gotta be in love, no

I don’t gotta be the one, no’

Nanami gaped at the stage. She was absolutely stunning. Her body moved with grace, and her long legs worked those heels in a way that left his head spinning. The way her hands gripped the pole ignited a desire in Nanami's fingers to reach out and touch her.

‘I just wanna be one of your girls tonight, oh.’

Strutting to the stage's front, she sank back down to her knees, this time facing away from the audience. Slowly, she bent over backward, bridging off the stage into the audience. What struck Nanami the hardest wasn't the sparkle of her chest or the way her hair framed her pretty eyes; it was the way she looked right at him.

‘ Lock me up and throw away the key,

He knows how to get the best out of me,

I’m no fool for the world to see,

Trade my whole life just to be.’

And Nanami, normally a man of composure, felt the blood rush to his face. He felt something stir deep within his chest – a sensation he hadn’t felt in years. Her half-lidded, smokey eyes gazed into his with the intensity of a thousand wildfires—unwavering, unrelenting, glimmering. She was fucking beautiful.

Droplets of sweat slid down her chest, and she smirked before extending her arm towards him. An unfamiliar, small hand gently caressed the side of his face. Nanami's heart raced, the scent of sweat and perfume leaving him reeling for more.

Then, as if nothing had transpired, the dancer pulled herself back onto her knees and continued with her routine.

Nanami's head spun, utterly captivated. He felt Gojo tap him on the shoulder.

“She’s good, ain’t she?” He shouted over the sultry beat.

As the bills rained down around the captivating dancer, Nanami found himself unable to tear his gaze away. Gojo's words still echoed in his ears, but a stubborn sense of restraint kept him from joining in the display of buffoonery.

Gojo, undeterred by Nanami's refusal, slid him some bills anyway. "Tip her," Gojo insisted. Before Nanami could protest further, Gojo walked away.

Left alone, Nanami hesitated, his gaze alternating between the bills in his hand and the dancer on stage, who continued her mesmerizing routine, seemingly unaffected by the cascade of money around her.

‘We don’t gotta be in love, no

I don’t gotta be the one, no’

He yearned to be closer to her. It was a strange feeling – one that he hadn’t felt before. He yearned to see her, to hold her, to…

The bills felt weighty in his hand, a tangible representation of the internal struggle Nanami was experiencing. After a moment of contemplation, he made a decision. With a determined look, he rolled his thumb over the bills one last time, then threw them up into the air.

Dollar bills danced around the woman as she moved, and she seemed to lock eyes with Nanami, a subtle smile playing on her lips.

‘I just wanna be one of your girls tonight’.

He wasn’t enamored.

No, he definitely wasn’t enamored with the absurdly pretty exotic dancer on the stage. That’s what he told himself.

And even though he had slandered Gojo for being a frequent patron of the club before that night, he joined the rank of regular himself not very long after.

a/n: hi pookie cookie bookie butts! I didnt like this specific chapter, but I never like my first chaps. thats why I make prologues lol!! the story will get much better I swear. tell me your thoughts, requests, remarks, etc in the comments, as always!! love u all <333 -Leo

comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

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wanna join the taglist? | my kinda love; chapter index

#my kinda love ʕ•㉨•ʔ #notiddygxthgf ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚#nanami x reader #kento x reader #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami smut #nanami fluf #nanami angst #nanami kento #nanami kento x you #kento nanami x you #gojo satoru #gojo #Yuuji itadori

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