#stripclub music

[charismaofobedience]

After seeing all the mutuals posting voice reveals i think we should create our OWN ensemble stars or sometjing

[1000-year-old-virgin]

Azealia Banks & Iggy Azalea - Luxury Stripclub [Sata Nyuga Remix]

[itsnotlala]

It’s that time of year again. 🎃

[scounmusic]

kicking up private session appointments for 2024, explore www.ScounOnline.com for more details, chat live with Scoun now, lessgo‼️🔥

[f1goat]

his stripper + lando norris (one shot)

In which Lando his friends take him to a stripclub, where he meets you. He's quick to come back weekly, every Tuesday you're his. But when he comes another day and finds you on the lap of some other guy, something in him snaps.

fem!stripper reader x lando norris

trigger warnings: stripper reader, sexual content, smut, a bit of unwanted physical contact (nothing much!) + not proofread as usual

masterlist - playlist

the first time at the stripclub

He’s nervous. This is nothing for him. The whole setting is wrong and puts him off. His mood is getting worse instead of better, but he can’t tell his friends about that. They tried, they really did. After Lando told them about being a bit miserable since the break up with his ex, they tried everything to cheer him up. Nothing really worked. Clubbing all night whenever he could, didn’t do the trick. Flirting shamelessly with every girl he saw, also didn’t work. He believes that tonight is some last option. A ‘if this doesn’t work, nothing will’ kind of option. 

But, this is a fucking stripclub. It won’t help him feel any better. To be honest, it only seems to make things worse. 

Lando looks at every small detail in the club. The atmosphere makes him even more nervous. It surprises him that there are many young guys who seem to be around his age. He always thought there only would be older guys. He takes a sip of his drink. It seems to be some strong cocktail with whiskey. He doesn’t like it. 

“You’re looking as bitter as that drink,” one of his friends tell him jokingly. 

Lando soft sighs and nods, “Maybe you’re right,” he says. 

“Just enjoy this mate,” another friend says. 

Lando tries to think about words that can tell his friends that he won’t enjoy this, but he doesn’t want to sound ungrateful. Before he can think about the right words, he’s distracted by the music becoming louder. Almost ashamed he starts to look at the podium, where you enter the place and greet everyone with a timid smile. 

You aren’t what Lando thought a stripper would be. It’s almost as there is an innocence hanging around you. He almost feels like he has to save you from this place. What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this? Lando already starts to feel infected with the thoughts about you. He’s already feeling you enter his mind and making a long term place for yourself.

That can’t be good.

He keeps looking at you. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from you. Everything about you is beautiful. You aren't a model like his ex, but maybe that’s what he likes most about you right now. There’s some sort of natural beauty hanging around you. And in combination with the innocence look on your face, it makes you way too dangerous for him. He should look away from you, leave this place and never come back. But Lando already starts to feel addicted. Fuck, who are you?

“I told you he’d like her.” He hears one of his friends make a remark to another one. He wonders if his friends came here more often. Have saw you before. Maybe even touched you? Fuck, he almost feels himself getting mad at only the thought.

You’re a stripper. He needs to remind himself about that all the time. But when he sees the way you’re moving on the stage, his opinion changes again. You’re not simply stripping like earlier girls on that stage did. It’s almost like you’re performing some sort of art. 

He really is losing his mind here.

Lando looks at all the movements you make. He watches how you slowly tease the crowd with your movements. When you unclasp your bra, Lando almost loses it. He doesn’t want you to show everyone even more of your body. A relieved sigh is leaving his mouth when he notices the nipple stickers on your boobs. 

The short skirt you’re wearing is next. Slowly you turn yourself around to give the crowd a sneak peak. Lando wants nothing more then to feel your ass. When he sees what you’re hiding on the short skirt, he wants nothing more for you to sit in his lap. Eventually you lose the skirt as well. Lando feels in some trance while staring at you. Why can’t he function like a normal person anymore?

When the first girls danced on stage, he couldn’t care less. But with you? He can’t seem to look away. His friends notice it as well. It’s probably even worse then they already expected. Lando doesn’t pay attention to them anymore, until you leave the stage. He can barely withhold himself from throwing money on the stage as well. It seems rude to do so, even though it’s your job. 

Would it be a sin to get you alone with him? 

The next girl shows up and starts her routine, but Lando has lost his focus again. He’s focussing on his friends who are making fun of him for liking you this much. It annoys him how he doesn’t even know who you are, what your name is and how he can see you again. 

“We have one more surprise for you,” his best friend, Max, tells him. Lando gives him a strange look. What is he talking about? Instead of getting an explanation, there’s showing up someone in front of him. It seems to be one of the security members from the club. “Suzuka is ready for you,” he tells Lando. 

“Go with him,” his friends encourage Lando. He feels strange. Who’s Suzuka? Is that a nickname from one of the strippers? Of course his friends picked someone with a name who’s connected to formula one. He sighs, but he does follow the security member. What if it’s you? He needs to know for sure.

In a short amount of time he has followed the guy to a smaller room. There’s no one around yet. The guy tells Lando that Suzuka will be here any moment. It makes him nervous. When he looks around in the room, it’s clear that it’s used for the more private dances. Fuck. He doubts about leaving this room, this place and his friends, to go home. But the small chance of you being Suzuka stops him. So, he takes place on the small couch that’s standing in the room. 

When the door opens, he’s surprised that it is actually you. 

Apparently his friends know him ever better then he already thought. They did pick out the right girl. 

From up close you look even more beautiful to him. Lando again feels like he’s entering some sort of trance. You walk closer towards him. It makes him nervous. What does he need to say to you? He doesn’t even know what’s going to happen next. Is he getting a private dance? Or are his friends just pranking him? 

“Hey,” you softly greet Lando. It amazes him that you still seem shy and timid. He thought that was an act for on the stage. “Hi,” Lando greets you back with even more nerves. 

When you show Lando another small smile, he feels like he’s going to lose it. He needs to feel your body against his. He needs it. Now. His dick has already hardened up and is pressing painfully against his jeans. 

“I need to inform you about the rules first,” you tell him a bit less timid. It’s almost like a business transaction right now. “You can’t touch me unless I give permission first, which I normally don’t. When the time is up, it’s up. No begging for more. This is just a lap dance. Don’t ask for more, because this is all I do. If you want more, find another girl.” 

“You only give lap dances?” Lando asks you. 

“Yes,” you confirm.

“Thank god,” Lando sighs. 

He doesn’t know where this reaction is coming from. He’s just glad that other guys can’t touch you as well. Before you can ask him about his reaction, there’s a slow song starting. Apparently it’s your sign to start dancing. In no time you’re closely pressed up against his body. Slowly grinding your ass against Lando his body. It takes a lot from him to stop himself from touching you. 

Lando doesn’t know how to act. The moves you’re making are making him lose his mind. It’s insane. He wants to touch you, but he can’t. There’s nothing more he wants then to press his lip against any place of your body. To discover your body with his hands. To do whatever you allow him to. But he doesn’t make any movements. He lets you do your thing. He can’t however stop himself from questioning you. 

“What’s your real name?” He asks you when he notices that the song is about to end.

You grind yourself on his clothed dick and even let out a soft moan. Something that surprises you as well. Normally you absolutely hate doing this part of your job, even saying no whenever you can to the private dances. But this guy, he’s doing things to you as well. And that without even doing things.

“I’ll tell mine in return,” Lando tries to convince you. He doesn’t know that you know who he is. You know a lot more about him then he suspects at this point.

“No need Lando,” you tell him. You see how his eyes widen from the surprise. What you don’t see is that Lando feels like he’s really losing everything right now. It sounds heavenly to hear you say his name. “But,” you continue with a soft voice, “if you promise to keep it a secret, you can know mine.”

“Promise,” Lando quickly says.

The music has stopped in the mean time. You know that you have to leave this room, but before you actually do so you move closer to Lando once more. 

“It’s y/n,” you whisper in his ear, “and maybe if you come again, you can figure out some other things about me.” 

It’s the first time ever that you ask someone to come again. 

You really hope you’ll see Lando again. 

the second time at the stripclub

It surprises you when the following Tuesday Lando is already back in the stripclub. You wonder if it’s for you. Or is it just a coincidence? It doesn’t take you long to notice him. He’s early and it seems like he’s alone this time. Before you can think about it in any more details, you’re already distracted by the others girls in the dressing room with you. 

They have seen him as well. It’s not that weird for a celebrity to be seen in this stripclub. It’s Monaco after all. Charles Leclerc has been here a couple times as well and many non formula one related celebs as well. But still, it seems like your coworkers have found some interest in Lando as well. They keep talking about his good looks and how they would drop everything for him. How he can have his way with them, even discarding the rules of the club. “If he wants to fuck me, who am I to say no?” One girl even jokes.

It makes you annoyed in some weird way. Before you had a small bit of hope for Lando to pick you again tonight. But now you realize that last time his friends chose, this time he’ll probably try someone else. Maybe even one from your coworkers who doesn’t follow the rules. 

While standing in front of the mirror you decide to change your outfit again. Now that you know that he’s here again, you have another outfit in mind. It’s a bit more orange then what you’re wearing now, some may even say that it’s more papaya. 

Lando has already made sure that you’re his after your show. The small room from before has been booked again. Since he met you last week, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He needed to see you again. So, here he is. This will probably be the last time, he just needs to prove to himself that you weren’t that special. He hasn’t been this close with another girl since his ex, that must have been the cause for his extreme reaction. 

When you show up in a tiny papaya dress on the stage, Lando has lost all his earlier thoughts.

Fucking hell. He was so wrong. You’re more then special. You’re everything.

He watches your show. He can safely say that he didn’t even miss a millisecond. He saw everything. He couldn’t even tear his eyes of you if he wanted to. 

After your show he’s quick to walk towards the same room as last week. This time he can find it himself. When he’s standing in front of the door, he suddenly starts to feel nervous. Isn’t it weird what he’s doing? What if you think he’s creepy? 

Before he can back out, you’re already opening the door for him. You’re glad when you notice that it is him again. 

“You’re back,” you softly state.

Lando can only nod. 

“That’s great,” you tell him with a smile.

When he walks inside the room with you, he can’t stop focusing on the way your ass bounces every time you take a step. It’s making him even more aroused. When you take him towards the same sofa as last week, Lando lets you. He sits down and waits for the music to start. He waits for you to start dancing again. 

You position yourself on his lap. The music can start any minute, but before you want to do something else. Carefully you take Lando his hands into your own. You place them on your own body. Lando is quick to show you a confused look. 

“Don’t make it inappropriate,” you joke, but there’s a truth hiding into your words. Lando nods quickly. He doesn’t move his hands. The feeling of your soft skin underneath his hands is already enough for him. Softly he holds your waist, waiting for you to continue.

Then the music starts. Lando loses himself in your moves, but he makes sure that his hands stay on your waist. It surprises you. When you’re done a few minutes later, Lando has many questions for you but has no idea with which one he should start. Eventually he asks you the worst one.

“Why?”

He doesn’t need to explain himself, you know what he’s asking. 

“Money,” you answer as if it’s the only possible answer. For you it is. 

Lando grabs his wallet, doesn’t think about his next movements and gets all the cash he has out of it. He gives you all of it. You don’t know what to say or do. Thankfully you accept it.

“Take the rest of the week off please,” Lando softly asks you. Then the lights in the room are going on again. It’s your sign to leave. You do however nod at Lando his question. 

“Next week, same time?” You ask Lando jokingly before leaving the room. This time it’s Lando who shows you a nod.

You’re boss is ready to kill you when you tell him you’ll only work on Tuesdays from now on. Lando his money is maybe not enough to make such a decision, but you’re sure about yourself. You’ll manage. 

the fourth time at the stripclub

Every Tuesday he’s here again. Always at the beginning of the night. He’s the first one to book you for a lapdance. He’s also the only one you agree to. You guess that he pays your boss good money, because the guy doesn’t even complain anymore if you deny other guests. 

Last weeks you have gotten to know Lando better. Conversations are still small and awkward, but you have the idea that you’re getting somewhere with Lando. Before you always went to the stripclub because ‘you had to’, now you’re looking forward it. Lando changed things for you. Even the dance you perform for everyone is almost nice now. You love the feeling of Lando watching you. It even makes you feel kinda aroused. 

Sometimes you can’t stop staring at Lando when you’re dancing in front of the crowd. It’s insane how he makes you feel. Is it weird that it almost feels like you’re crushing on him? That must be weird.

“Babygirl,” Lando greets you happily when you walk into the room. You’re quick to greet him back and give him a small hug. Lando smiles at you. He can safely say that Tuesday has become the favorite day of his week. Sometimes he thinks about coming more often, but he barely can. His schedule is busy and there are a lot of races. It may be only Tuesday that he sees you and he doesn’t even speak to you for a long time, but he really likes it. Maybe he can even say that he likes you. Not that he’s surprised about that, it was pretty clear after the impact you made on him the first time.

Slowly you move your body over Lando. You let your ass grind on his cock. Lando feels it hardening underneath your touch. Things feel different today. It almost seems like you’re doing even more then the other times. You make sure that with every move, you make contact with his crotch. Shaking your ass as sensual as you can.

When you turn around and take place on Lando his lap, he lets out a moan. Normally he has to take care of himself after what you’re doing to him, but this time he already starts to feel close to an orgasm. You grind yourself on his lap. It makes him insane. When you grab Lando his head and softly move it to your neck, the hint is clear. Lando let himself explore your neck and shoulders. He presses soft kisses against it.

It seems like you want him to enjoy things even more. His hand, which was earlier sneaked around your waist, is now in your hand and on it’s way to a new location. Lando lets out his hardest moan so far when he feels your boob in his hand. Carefully he moves his hand underneath your bralette. 

“Can I?” Lando asks you just to be sure. 

“Yes please,” you’re quick to reply.

That is everything it takes for Lando to start exploring your breasts. You let him know that he can use his other hand was well. He’s quick to do so. Softly he kneads your boobs. It earns him a soft moan from you. Something that only motivates him to continue his movements. He gives one of your nipples a soft pinch, it causes you to let out another moan. 

When the music ends, the two of you don’t even notice. Lando is focused on you. Your focused on Lando and his touch. It’s a loud knock on the door that brings the two back of you back to reality. You know it’s one of the security guards, who’s telling you that the time is up. 

Fuck. You think it, Lando says it. 

“Fuck,” Lando mutters. 

“It’s more for extra time,” you softly tell Lando. 

“Since when do you do extra time?” Lando asks you, referring back to his first meeting with you in which you told him that time’s up means time’s up. 

“Do you want to masturbate or do you want me to help you out?” You ask Lando. 

It’s almost unrealistic how hurried Lando gets to the door. He’s quick to open it, put some money in the worker his hands and slams it close again. Now he can only hope that he didn’t hear you wrong. 

He’s rather quick to find out that he heard you correctly. You’re dropped to your knees and sitting in front of him. When Lando was talking with the security member, you appeared to pull off your bralette. Lando can’t stop looking at your boobs. Since when is he this easily affected by only boobs? Lando almost feels ashamed for himself. He feels like a teenage boy.

You help him to undo his belt in the mean time. Lando pulls down his pants. His boxer stays on - for now he guesses. You press a soft kiss on his member through his underwear. Then you take it in your hand. His boxer doesn’t stop you from stroking his boner. Lando is quick to let out a couple moans caused by your movements. 

It’s the first time you’re doing something like this in the club. You know that other girls use this as a way to make even more money. Crazy enough, this isn’t about the money. You really want to make Lando feel good right now. 

He might have felt like a teenager before, but when Lando feels himself getting so close that he’s about to cum in his underwear - he really thinks he’s acting like one. 

“Fuck y/n,” Lando moans when his orgasm hits him. 

You can only smile proudly when you feel the wetness coming through his boxers.

the seventh time at the stripclub

You’re always happy when it’s Tuesday and you’re waiting for Lando again. After the first time you helped him getting off, things have changed between you two. You might not have kissed yet or have sex, but his dick has been in your hand and mouth a couple times now. It’s even arousing for you as for him. 

“Hey,” you greet Lando enthusiastically when you walk into the small room and see him sitting already. Lando shows you a small smile while greeting you back. His tone is less enthusiastic then normally. You wonder what’s going on. There’s barely time to figure that out. The music is already starting and you move yourself around Lando.

“You don’t have to,” Lando tells you. Confused you back out a bit and look at Lando. There’s something wrong, but you can’t figure it out. Lando does however pulls you closer towards himself and positions you on his lap. It’s nothing new that he touches you. Since the second time you danced for him, you allowed him to. 

“What’s wrong?” You eventually ask Lando. He even seems sad how longer you look at him. 

“I won’t be coming for a couple weeks,” Lando explains, “I guess three weeks?” 

“Oh?” You’re quick to match Lando his disappointed voice. Why isn’t he coming the next couple weeks? You wonder if it’s something you did. What if he’s never coming back again? 

Lando quickly notices you disappointed look. Is it bad that he kinda likes it? Not that he wants to disappoint you, but he’s glad that he isn’t the only one who doesn’t like this. Maybe he can finally state that there’s something more going on between the two of you. 

“It’s the triple header princess,” Lando explains to you, “After that I’ll be all over you again.” 

“Deal?” You jokingly ask.

“Deal.”

The music has come to end end in the mean time. You hear the last tones fade away. It means you have to leave this room, but you don’t want to. Lando doesn’t remove his hands from your body as well. You can’t look away from him. Then Lando does something unusual. He softly grabs you chin and gets your face closer to his own. 

“Can I?” Lando asks you. 

You can only nod. Then you notice Lando coming even closer. His eyes are pretty from this close. You notice all kind of stuff. If you wanted to, you could count the small freckles on his face. But Lando is quick to snatch away your attention. Softly he presses his lips onto yours. 

It feels good. Almost too good. You know that you’ve never kissed with someone like this before. Lando seems to be careful with you, something else then your used to from exes. Lando is enjoying it too. He can’t seem to pull back anymore. If it’s up to him, he stays like this for the rest of the night. And maybe longer. 

When you slowly pull back from Lando, he’s quick to send you a questioning look. “The time,” you softly whisper. Lando nods understandingly. 

“I’ll see you when I’m back,” Lando tells you.

Before you can anything, Lando adds something else.

“I promise babygirl.” 

“I already can’t wait for you to come back,” you confess. 

That causes Lando to press another soft kiss against your lips. 

the eight time at the stripclub

It’s Sunday night. Lando couldn’t stop himself. After his race he barely made time for the press and the debrief from his team. He could only focus on getting home. Or better said, getting back to you. Last three weeks have been killing him. Every time he had a moment free, he could only think about you. And not in the way your body feels on his own, or about your magical hands and mouth that make him cum as if he’s a teenage boy experiencing his first orgasm. No, he can’t stopt thinking about how he feels while he’s with you. 

Now that he thinks back at it, his friends did find the solution for his bad mood when they took him to the stripclub. They might have thought that it was because the activity, but they brought him to you. 

Lando is pretty sure about his feelings for you. He thought about telling you about them when he saw you the last time, but he didn’t dare to. Now however, he’s sure that he needs to tell you. He needs to get you away from that terrible strip club for the rest of your live, so you can be his. 

When he walks into the stripclub he’s quick to try to book you for a lapdance later tonight. It annoys him when he hears you aren’t taking those tonight. Lando is quick to wonder if you’re already booked? Fuck. He barely thinks about things like that because it makes him so upset every time. He knows you’re a stripper. Other guys have seen your body barely clothed, maybe you even gave lap dances to other guys - maybe you’re doing that right now. Lando tries to shake off the terrible thoughts. He needs you to be his.

Only his.

In the mean time you’re making yourself ready for a night as bottle girl. It isn’t your normal job. Normally you don’t even work on this day. But, because you needed a favor from your boss for upcoming Tuesday you had to do this in return. You have decided that it’s one of the last times. The favor you needed was the small room for the same amount of money Lando pays normally, but then for the whole night. It’s the last time you plan to be here. You need to tell Lando about your feelings, then you need to quit and watch how things will go.

The only reason you kept the job for this long, is because of Lando.

When you walk outside the dressing room and start to waitress for your first table, you’re quick to feel annoyed. You boss coupled you at the worst table. It’s one of the tables that has the highest price, which causes the guests to think everything is about them. 

Lando looks around and wonders if you’re even working tonight. He doesn’t know your schedule. He doesn’t even know your phone number. Why didn’t he ask for that before? He doesn’t take a seat, he keeps looking around in hope to find you. 

It doesn’t take longer then ten minutes before one of the guests from your table starts to act inappropriate. “I believe you can make those other tables wait for a moment,” the guest tells you while gesturing you to take a seat next to him. You softly sigh but give him what he wants. In no time his arm has found a place on your shoulder. It makes you uncomfortable. You want to stand up and leave again, but the guy holds you on your place.

“Maybe you can give me a lapdance princess?” The guy asks you. The nickname annoys you. It feels wrong. You start to miss Lando even more. “I’ll pay you a lot for it,” he whispers as if it’s a secret. You try to deny him, but he has already pulled you until his own lap. You squirm while trying to get away from him, but the guy only likes that more. 

Lando realizes that he has gotten in a more private area from the stripclub by now. He has never seen this part before. It seems more luxurious then the rest of the place. He guesses this is for the guys who spend a lot of money here. Not for someone like him, who’s only spending money because he fell for one of the girls. He walks around, but doesn’t suspect to find you here. 

Then he sees you. It seems like you’re sitting on some other guys lap. Lando doesn’t even notice the look of discomfort on your face at first. He can only think about getting you away from there. This will sound crazy and way too possessive, but he needs to figure out a way to get you to quit from this awful job. He needs to find a way to make you his.

One of the guys on the table is the first one who notices Lando. “Hey Lando!” He yells enthusiastically, “Come join us.”

It’s that moment that you notice Lando as well. You try to get off the lap from the guy, but he still has a firm grip on you. He doesn’t let you go. Lando notices it. He even starts to notice the uncomfortable way you’re sitting and the annoyed look on your face. He can barely withhold himself from calling you one of his typical nicknames or your own name.

“Come here,” he instructs you as polite as he can manage, “You’re forgetting about my table. Everyone is thirsty.” He is lying and he can only hope that everyone will fall for it. The guy seems distracted and you use the moment to get out of his grip. Quickly you stand up and walk towards Lando. You’re so happy with him right now that you can kiss him. 

Not that you don’t want or can’t do that any other moment.

Lando doesn’t think anymore. He feels your presence next to himself. It makes him glad. The jealousy that has builded up in his chest seems to get a bit smaller again. He does however manage to instruct you something else.

“Tell your boss that you’re quitting and then meet me at the entrance.”

You can only nod at Lando his instructions. He seems a bit mad, but you aren’t sure if he’s mad at you, those guys, your boss or someone else. His jaw is slacked and a fierce gaze is found in his eyes. He looks when you walk to your boss, he notices the way the man his face falls flat - probably because he won’t get Lando his money anymore and then he sees you turning around again. That’s his sign to get to the entrance. 

When he sees you coming towards him a bit later, Lando is quick to grab your hand. “You’re coming home with me,” he tells you. You can only nod.

the first time at Lando’s place

“Fuck,” Lando curses, “The things you’re doing to me.” His lips are dragging on your neck. The elevator ride seems to be never ending. Lando his hands are all over you. “It’s unfair how fucking beautiful you are,” Lando continues, “Need to feel every part of you.” 

You’re thankful when the elevator reaches the right floor. Lando doesn’t give you the chance to walk for yourself. He picks you up and walks with you to his own apartment. Within the first seconds that you’re inside, Lando is already walking towards his bedroom. He drops you softly on his bed and hoovers above you. 

“Lan,” you softly moan when he softly sucks on the skin by your neck. 

He moves and presses his lips on yours. The kiss isn’t soft. It’s hard, rough and shows you exactly  how much he has missed you lately. His tongue is fighting with yours for dominance, something he wins in only seconds. Lando lets out a soft groan when he releases himself from you. 

“You’re mine,” Lando grunts. He almost says sorry after saying that. An ashamed feeling starts to creep up on his chest. But when he hears a soft moan leaving your mouth, he starts to feel less nervous about his remark. “Yours,” you even tell him with a soft voice. 

“Yeah?” Lando asks you. He needs to make sure that he heard you right. In the mean time he focusses on getting you out of your clothes. Not that you’re wearing many. 

“Yes,” you confirm. 

Lando pulls you on top of himself. “I want you to dance like normally,” he instructs you, “I want to feel your naked body on mine while you do so.” You’re fast to remove his clothes as well. All your clothes have piled up on the bedroom floor. Lando lets out a soft moan while he feels you grinding on his dick. 

“Feels even better like this princess,” he moans. 

“You know,” you softly say, “I was earning a favor from my boss tonight. Had planned a whole thing for you this Tuesday.” 

“Oh?”

“Yes,” you admit, “We had the room for ourself for the whole night. After that I was planning to quit.”

“Was it a goodbye for me?” Lando asks you confused. You lower your body. Softly you grab Lando his boner. You align it with your entrance before lowering your body even more. When Lando his dick enters your cunt, you let out a hard moan. Lando moans as well, but he keeps waiting for your answer. Were you going to say bye to him? Forever?

“It was not,” you confess, “I hoped it was a hello for our new life together.”

Your words silence Lando for a bit. He has no idea what to say. You slow down with your movements. Lando keeps thinking. Does this mean what he thinks it does? You like him? You what to explore those feelings for him? 

“I like you babygirl,” Lando confesses, “I really do.”

You increase your pace. Riding on Lando his dick while confessing how much you like him too. “You’re made for me,” Lando moans while he feels close to his orgasm, “Fucking made for only me.”

In only minutes the two of you focus on the way your orgasm hit. Lando groans. You let out a self yelp. Lando shows you a small smile, you return it. 

“You do realize that you’re my girlfriend now, right?” Lando asks you jokingly. 

“Duh,” you reply with the same jokingly tone. 

Lando presses his body close against yours. In some weird way he can’t wait to tell everyone about you. He’s never leaving you again for three fucking weeks. It’s only the conversations with his friends who were here with him the first night will be a bit different. But he doesn’t care about things like that. He can’t wait to show you the world. 

Lando presses a soft kiss against your cheek. “But, you can’t forget how to dance like this,” Lando tells you, “You really need to keep doing this to me.”

“Idiot,” you laugh.

“Maybe you need to practice again?”

Lando has your on top of himself in no time again. 

a/n: a small smutty one shot for you guys :)) for now i'll focus on my mini serie 'the roommate' again, but you can always send requests xx

[luveline]

Hiiii sugarplum. I would absolutely adore some stripper reader x Hotch maybe like some of him comforting her or just coming to visit like outside of the case and some fluff 🥰🥰

ty for requesting!! fem

You’re texting on the wall outside of work when a shadow cuts across the streetlight illuminating your lap. Your head flinches up, phone to your chest, but the man standing in front of you isn’t one you’ve ever been scared of. “Fuck, Aaron, you scared me,” you say with a nervous laugh. 

He smiles at you in his gentle, unassuming way. “Sorry. I took care to scuff my shoes as I walked.”

“Oh, you took care,” you say. Your smile is far less gentle than his; your cheeks apple, your words coloured with it. “I was in my own world.” 

“I thought we talked about you coming outside alone.”

“Did we?” you ask, the short wall you’re sitting on biting into your hands and thighs as you tip back to grin at him teasingly. “Gosh, I’m sorry, Mr. Hotchner, I can’t seem to remember any such talk.” 

“Mm.” He rolls his eyes. “You don’t remember that?” 

“Don’t recall, no.”

“So you also won’t remember the conversation we had about flowers.” 

Your first date, your only date, and your first bouquet. He’d given you flowers and read the embarrassment on your face immediately. You aren’t the kind of girl who gets flowers. 

What’s wrong? he’d asked. 

You’d held the flowers to your chest, something in you worried he’d take them away, though you’re almost positive he’s incapable of being cruel like that. Do I look stupid? 

Of course you don’t. 

There hadn’t been much else to say about the flowers, until after the evening had gone well, and he’d asked you for another date. High with the delight of knowing Spencer’s nice, handsome boss doesn’t just think you’re pretty, he likes you, you’d said Sure, if you bring me another lovely bouquet, we can go on as many dates as you like. 

Aaron pulls the bouquet from behind his back. Petals bounce off of his tie, pinks and whites and baby blues against his black blazer and pristine white shirt as he taps his chest. They’re beautiful, and far too many. 

“Are they really for me?” you ask. You’ve never seen such a big bouquet in your life. It’s a wonder they fit behind his back. 

The strangest thing about dating him has been his sudden propensity for moments of shyness. “That depends,” he says, the slightest hint of nerves in his otherwise dulcet tone, “are they nice enough?” 

“They’re the prettiest flowers I’ve ever seen.” You stand up and hold out your hands, pull them back to your chest, and then hold them back out again. You can’t not want them. 

He hands them off to you. 

It must be weird for him to meet you like this. He’s very high up the ladder of his career, and it doesn’t make much sense for him to fall for you. You’re younger, less educated, less prestigiously employed. You hadn’t understood what it was about you that pulled him in, but you can remember how clearly he told you he was interested in you. No shame. Not a hint of reluctance. He’s bringing you flowers outside of the stripclub, ignoring the fact that you’re in sweatpants and a tight corset-type bra, and he hasn’t looked at your body once. 

“I was just texting you,” you say, opening your phone to press send on the text waiting in the hot bar. 

Aaron’s phone immediately pings. 

He reads it quickly. It isn’t a long message. Hi, handsome. Want to pick me up tonight? 

If he’d said yes or no didn’t matter, because you’d just wanted to talk to him, and here he is. 

He finally ducks in. A half side step into your reach, his face angled down, he kisses you chastely on the lips and everything fades away. The neon pink at your feet, the buzzing streetlights and the passing cars, the steady thump of music from three different buildings, it all disappears under his warm hand. He kisses you, and he hugs you to his chest, careful not to crush your flowers. You could glow from the inside out. 

He’s still smiling as he pulls away. “Are you hungry?” he asks softly. 

“So hungry.” 

“We can get anything you want.” 

“Really? What if I want the same as last time?” 

It had been expensive and you’d felt vaguely underdressed. Aaron doesn’t baulk. “Anything you want… You may need to wear my jacket, though. I don’t think your current outfit adheres to their dress code.” 

You push the flowers just under his nose. “Funny.”

[meownotgood]

under the influence / hayakawa aki

When Aki gets dragged to the most popular strip club in Tokyo in hopes it'll help him "de-stress", against all odds, you help him do just that. In return, he finally cures your itch for something more.

CHAPTER ONE — STRAWBERRY DAIQUIRI

pairing: hayakawa aki x fem!reader

word count: 34.0k

tags (for this chapter): 18+, aki is a virgin, reader is a stripper, drinking & smoking, strangers to lovers, lots and lots of plot, reader is shorter than aki, reader's had some bad experiences with men, pampering & comforting aki, body worship, dry humping, finger sucking, praise, the calm before the storm (the plot before the total filth)

masterlist.

read on ao3

this work contains explicit content intended for 18+ individuals. please read the tags and do not interact if you are a minor.

The club is awfully lively tonight. Colorful kaleidoscopes of light shine across the floor and the walls, they reflect off the sparkly clothing of the dancers on stage. There's guys drinking at the bar, smoking fat cigars, throwing wads of money, getting lap dances. Music pumps though the overhead speakers so loud you can feel the bass reverberate in your chest. 

And yet you've never been so fucking bored. 

You don't exactly hate your job. With how much money you make, you could never truly despise it; the privilege to both live well within your means and be able to buy whatever you want is all you could ask for out of a job like this one, really. This particular nightclub is located right in the center of the red light district, and it's known for being the most luxurious Tokyo has to offer, so the customers are plentiful and almost always loaded with cash. 

Your manager is reasonable. He allows you to have frequent breaks, he gives you bonuses for every occasion. He never forces you to serve anyone you don't want to. Your coworkers are all kind, great people, and even though you aren't close, you know they'd all have no problem backing you up if you're ever in an uncomfortable situation. 

It could be worse is what you always end up telling yourself. You say it in the morning when you're looking in the mirror and putting on your makeup, daydreaming about what it might be like to work in some cooped up office instead. You remind yourself that your day-to-day life could be so much worse than it's fortunate enough to be every time you read another article in the newspaper about the latest devil related slaughter in Tokyo. When you think of it that way, your stresses start to seem trivial in comparison. 

There is one thing you can't stand about being a stripper, though, one thing you'll openly admit — and that's how goddamn uninteresting it is. 

Dull would be a good way to put it. Lucrative, sure, but also incredibly, incredibly dull. Even on busy Saturdays like this, you find yourself completely worn out and bored to tears, already daydreaming of when you'll get to go home, even though the night has just begun. 

Every day is the same story. Get dressed up, dance until your feet are cramping in your heels, deal with sleazy, drunk men all night, and then wake up to do it all over again. Your only reprieve is when you get to go home and count your money. 

When you dropped out of school shortly after moving to Tokyo, this sort of experience was definitely not what you were expecting. You really should have stayed in your quiet little hometown, but you ended up listening to your heart instead of your head. You quickly had to shift your plans from living your dream city lifestyle to settling for whatever places happened to be hiring, which left you to choose between the Public Safety Commission or the stripclub. 

Hey, this beats becoming a Devil Hunter, at least. You'd take a little boredom over having to risk your life every day just for a paycheck, or needing to make deals with slimy devils in order to get by. 

Honestly, the more you've thought about it, the more you've realized that this job would simply be so much easier to deal with if the men weren't so damn insufferable. You've begun to learn rich doesn't exactly equal charitable, and that the men with the most funds to spare are usually the ones who tip the least, act the worst, and have no idea how to follow the rules. 

The club is quite clear when it comes to its no-touch policy, but that doesn't seem to stop anyone from putting their hands on you. You're often grateful you're not one of the most popular performers, because although they tend to make the most money, they also have it the worst when it comes to the way they're treated. Nothing could ever be worth the things they have to deal with. 

You've seen dancers have drinks thrown at them, you've watched them get stalked, you remember multiple instances where the night was cut short because the police were called. You've comforted several of your coworkers after they've run into the staff room crying because of something some asshole did to them. 

And it's no secret a stupid amount of these men are coming here so they can get away from their girlfriends, their families, or even their wives. The thought alone is enough to make you sick to your stomach. How can those men have everything, the things most people in this shitty world don't get to have — happiness, love, wealth, a family — and yet they're still so unsatisfied? 

"Hey, beautiful. Let me buy you a drink." 

A sudden raspy, drunken voice coming from behind you rouses you from your thoughts. 

You decide to ignore it for a second. And then two, and then three. Maybe they weren't talking to you; maybe whoever this guy is, he'll go away and leave you alone because clearly you're trying to enjoy your break by relaxing at the bar, and clearly you don't want to talk to him, so can he just —

"Hey," The man speaks again, louder, and closer to your ear this time. He's leaning over you, he's way too close for comfort. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, you can tell he's tipsy by the way his words start to slur and how they sound heavy on his tongue, "You've got ears, right? I'm trying to be nice here." 

You give yourself a half a second longer to get composed before turning to him, sweetening up your tone and putting on your best fake smile. 

"Sorry sir, I'm not supposed to talk to patrons when I'm on my break. The boss will get suuuuuuper mad at me if I do." You lift the drink you're holding, swirling the contents around in the glass. "Plus, I already have a drink, see?" 

The man eyes you up and down, and for a moment you're worried he isn't going to leave you alone. But finally, thankfully, he stands up straight and walks away, muttering something to himself you don't hear all of because you've already stopped paying attention. "Ungrateful bitch," was the only thing you managed to catch before you started focusing on the peppy club music to drown him out. 

If you didn't need this job, you'd have probably cussed that guy out. Hell, you would have started cussing out assholes like him months ago. You've been telling yourself this for ages but seriously, one of these days, your patience is going to wear thin, and whoever decides to go over the line that day is not going to like what they hear from you. 

With a frustrated sigh, you roll your shoulders back, relieving some of the tension there, and you bring your glass to your lips, taking a small swig of your strawberry daiquiri. The chill from the ice hits your lips first; you taste the sweet strawberry syrup on your tongue, and when you swallow, the tart rum lingers satisfyingly in the back of your throat. 

You usually don't drink at work as a personal preference but it's hard to avoid when you've been super on edge tonight. These days, you feel as if everything has your mind way more frazzled than usual. You were hoping a drink or two would help to settle your nerves. And while it does provide you a nice distraction from the chaos, the alcohol is yet to hit your system, so your swigs are doing little for your current situation. 

You're in for a long night, aren't you? 

Thankfully, you've still got a while left to relax and enjoy your break, but something tells you you're gonna have to savor your alone-time while you can. 

You're working 'til close tonight, which means you won't finish your shift until around 2am, you won't get home until 3, and when you glance up at the neon clock on the wall — the one you always know the exact location of because you spend ages staring at it on every single shift you work — you can tell it's only a few minutes past 10pm. 

You absently swirl the remaining contents of your drink around the glass. You'll get through the night, you always do. You don't have any doubts. It's just that the thought of how long you still have to be here is enough to totally kill your appetite. 

Oh, whatever. If you want to see the end of this shift as soon as possible, you're gonna need something to take the edge off. So, reluctantly, you screw your eyes shut tight and tip your head back to down the rest of your drink. Luckily for you, you place the empty glass on the counter right as the bartender is walking over. You waste no time ordering yourself another one of the same. 

While you're waiting for your drink, you drum your fingers against the surface of the bar and glance around the club. It's still just as busy as it was when you first sat down, unfortunately. It looks as though nearly every booth close to the stripper poles is filled, and most of the ones further away are busy as well. Some groups of men are crowded around the furthest seats to play cards and place bets. You observe the stages, the tables, the columns of neon light cast by a prominent, shiny disco ball. Everything seems to be as usual, but one sight catches your eye and keeps your attention. 

It's your boss, who's currently standing at the front entrance, personally greeting two men who have just walked in. They both flash their IDs at the security guards, and once they've stepped all the way inside, your boss stops them and begins to speak to them.

You can hear a friendly, hearty sort of inflection in his voice, but what he's actually saying is difficult to pick up over the loud music. Surely he's starting by repeating the same script he always does: Welcome to Kon Kon Nightclub, the highest-rated club in all of Tokyo! Let us know how we can best please you tonight, boys! 

These guys are a little different from the usual crowd, though. They're special, hence why your boss is lingering for longer than he has to. It's easy to tell who they are and why they're so important from the uniform they're wearing: a collared shirt, professional-looking slacks, and a crisp, neat suit and tie. 

You've seen this uniform countless times before, whether it be on the news, in the streets, or during your own job — You've been told, "Hey, Public Safety guys. Look alive, and make sure to treat them real nicely," more times than you can count. 

Everyone in Tokyo could recognize a pair of devil hunters from a mile away, but especially you and especially, especially your boss. 

Simply put, your boss tends to give men from the Public Safety commission special treatment. They're the most consistent customers, usually showing up in order to de-stress from one mission, or to forget about the strife of another. The boss makes certain they're pampered to keep them coming back. 

That, and they tend to pay handsomely. Yes, a devil hunter's salary is nothing to scoff at, but most of the time, the reason why they're so frivolous with their cash is because they tend to spend like it's the end of the world — and when you come face to face with the very real possibility of death on a day-to-day basis, for them, it very well could be. 

It makes sense why they choose to come here, you suppose. Hunting devils for a living takes a massive strain on someone; you know this to be true from all the hunters you've seen and spoken to. A job like that is rough on your mentality, on your physical well-being. A lot of devil hunters don't form long lasting relationships because they're so busy, but you figure it's also because, to put it bluntly, people don't want to date someone who could be here one day and gone the next. 

Not like you can really blame them. You wouldn't get involved with a devil hunter either. 

Devil hunters show up so they can relax, so they can get their mind off things and pretend to be normal for a while. A sense of normalcy goes a long way for a job so rotten. You would know, you've dealt with your fair share of men from Public Safety, mostly because the days they have off usually align with the days you work. But to be honest, you don't mind them. 

Although you've certainly met a good few devil hunters who are stuck-up and self-righteous, most of them are nothing more than troubled people. They're scared, they're lonely, they aren't used to talking to women. They want a pretty girl's love and attention, they just don't know how to ask for it. 

Most of them are good men, albeit a bit misguided. Some of them are crazy. Though, with a job like that, who wouldn't be? Hell, at least when they act depraved, they have an excuse, unlike the rest of the guys who walk in here. 

And since the vast majority of devil hunters who come here are regulars, you were able to recognize one of the men your boss is currently talking to the second you saw him. 

Dyed blonde hair because he doesn't want anyone to see his grays, a messy scruff you'd hardly call a beard, and a scar on his face you could recognize anywhere; Kishibe comes here every single weekend, so if you didn't see him, then it would be a cause for concern. The only time he isn't here to drink beer from the tap and relentlessly flirt with all of the performers is when he's got devils to kill. 

Surprisingly, you'd have to say he's one of the regulars you hate the least. He's kind of sleazy, a little off his rocker, but he's a good guy. He's never rude, and he doesn't tend to bring rude men along with him, either. There's performers he favors much more than you, though, so it's not often where you end up having to service him. 

Either way, you're much more interested in the man who's accompanying Mister Kishibe tonight. You're certain he's someone you've never seen before; when it comes to your patrons of the devil hunter variety, you never forget a face — and you definitely wouldn't forget such a unique hairstyle. 

The man has his dark hair tied up in a neat, pointy topknot, showing off the pair of distinct, black circle-shaped earrings that adorn his lobes. He's tall, nearly taller than Kishibe. He's clearly much younger though; your guess is early twenties, maybe twenty-two, twenty-four? And in your opinion, he has a handsome face, a sharp jawline with pretty features. 

He's maintained a nice, straight posture, with his arms held uniformly around his back, and a blank, serious expression since you first started watching. But from the way he keeps nervously glancing around, shifting his weight from foot to foot, his shoulders tensed up: it's clear to tell he's getting increasingly uncomfortable. 

Mister Kishibe says something to your boss you're unable to make out before slinging his arm over Mister Topknot, to which your boss bursts out laughing, and Topknot immediately has an absolutely mortified look forming on his face which he tries to hide by averting his eyes and awkwardly clearing his throat. 

Yeah, there's no way this man has been here before. He arrived less than five minutes ago and he already looks like he wants to leave. 

It must be his first time coming to a place like this, you assume. His reserved demeanor is enough to tell you all you need to know, but honestly, he just doesn't really look like the clubbing type. Kishibe looks the part, for sure. But this man, with his stiff posture and out-of-place attitude — he's like a fish out of water. He's the type who seems like he'd rather stay in on a Saturday night, not go out and party, and certainly not go and hit up a sweaty, busy strip club. 

You've seen this same story countless times before. If you had to guess, this wasn't what he wanted to do, but he ended up getting talked into it, or perhaps even got dragged here against his will, all by his annoying, sleazy coworker. Now, he's got to deal with being uncomfortable for the rest of the night, all while pretending to act completely fine. 

You can't help but find his plight a little bit cute. 

Kishibe gives the man a firm pat on the back before walking away from the entrance and into the busy club, to which he's swarmed almost immediately by a group of three strippers; one grabs his arm and ushers him to sit down at the nearest booth, one takes his coat from his shoulders and holds it like a souvenir, and the other sits down next to him, crossing her legs and placing her hand on his thigh, leaning in to whisper something into his ear with a coy expression on her face. 

As ridiculous as it is, you wouldn't consider their behavior to be at all out of place considering how popular Kishibe is among the women here. He's simple, easy to get along with. Or maybe it's just because of how generously he likes to tip. If you had more patience, and if the usual men who came in here were anywhere near as tolerable as Kishibe, you'd be spoiling them to high heaven too. But right now, you don't care about any of them. 

You bring your attention back to where the newcomer guy is still standing awkwardly at the entryway. You're much more interested in what his next move is gonna be. 

Your boss places his hand on Topknot's shoulder, giving him a curt nod before walking away. The man stands there for a second, you watch him shove his hands in his pockets and glance over to where Kishibe is currently knee-deep in women, as if he's considering catching up with him. In the end, his chest heaves like he's sighing, he looks towards the bar, and — Oh, he's coming over here. 

You turn towards your drink as quickly as you can before he can catch you staring at him. He approaches the bar; you feel your heart leap into your throat when he chooses to stand right next to your stool, and wow, he's way taller up close. His shoulders are broad, his chest fills out his suit. When you manage to steal glances at him, silently praying he won't notice but daring to take the risk anyways, you conclude he's even more handsome than you thought, too. 

His face is framed by long, straight bangs, his eyebrows are short and thick, his eyes are a deep, alluring shade of blue, like the sky after rain. The colorful lights from the nearby stages reflect in the shiny metal of his earrings. He reaches into his back pocket to pull out his wallet and his hands are large, his knuckles bruised, his palms calloused. A defined Adam's apple bobs in his throat when he calls over the bartender — 

"Excuse me. What do you have on tap?" 

And his voice is low, silky smooth; only a couple of words, and you feel like you could listen to him speak forever. 

You're nosy when he pulls his ID from his wallet, placing it on the counter and sliding it over to the bartender with his index finger. With your eyes squinted, you're just barely able to catch the name printed on it before the bartender picks it up: Hayakawa Aki. 

Aki is careful to slide his ID into his wallet exactly where it was when it's handed back to him, and then he quickly shoves his wallet back into his pocket. He leans his arms over the bar counter while he waits for his beer, resting his chin on the heel of his palm. 

You notice how the buttons of his suit jacket are clasped neatly around his chest, and how his collar is folded exactly, neither side longer than the other. And how his tie is tight and straight and orderly, how it's tucked into his jacket nicely — It's a stark contrast to how Kishibe looked when he walked in, with his jacket already undone, his collar ruffled, and his tie loose, stuck haphazardly into his shirt pocket. 

You wager Aki is a lot more professional than his buddy, a lot more uptight. A lot less crazy. That'll get you killed, you can hear Kishibe saying in your head, after he's gone on another one of his unprompted ramblings about devil hunting. Aki is a lot more cognizant of his reputation — and thus, a lot more ashamed than most to be coming to a place like this. 

Aki's gaze wanders over the array of drinks in the back of the bar: the short bottles, long bottles, drinks with colorful labels and brands he doesn't recognize, but seem incredibly expensive. And then, he looks towards you. 

Your eyes meet his own briefly, for no more than a half a second; you tear yourself away and turn back towards your drink like it was just a coincidence. 

You have no idea whether or not he noticed you staring, but thankfully, the creeping sense of awkwardness you were starting to feel quickly fades away as the bartender arrives with a frothy glass of beer, remarking something about the tab before setting it down on the counter. Aki takes it by the handle, but as he's turning to leave, his shoulder accidentally bumps yours just slightly. 

It isn't enough to spill your drink, or really enough to displace you at all, but it is enough for Aki to swiftly turn to you and apologize for his mistake. 

"Oh," Aki meets your eyes for the second time tonight. There's an apologetic, sincere expression on his face, and he politely says with a nod of his head, "I'm sorry, excuse me." 

By the time you've turned to reply to him, to say something like, Oh, it's alright, or It's okay, hey, you're new here, aren't you? he's already gone, disappearing into the crowd of patrons and the swirls of neon lights. 

Shit. 

You turn towards your drink once more, except this time, instead of patiently nursing it like you've been doing for the past few minutes, you tilt your head back and down the entire thing in a couple of gulps and a few seconds. You set the empty glass on the table, you shift off of your bar seat before the bartender can convince you to stay for another, you pull on the bottom of your outfit to adjust it once you're up and standing. 

You have to find him. 

The club is rather large, but you've long since memorized the layout, so you know the spots where people like to hang out. Based on what you've seen of Aki so far, if he's not with Kishibe, it's likely he'll be in one of the far corners, in a seat that's furthest from the stages, the performers, and the noise. In the spot least likely to get him into trouble. 

So, you walk through the club, in search of the man with the signature topknot. You check Kishibe's usual seat first; he's kicked his feet up on the table in front of him, he's got a cocktail with a paper umbrella sticking out of it in hand and he's crowded by even more women than when he got here — but the person you're looking for is nowhere in sight. 

You head towards the back of the club next. Your eyes scan the booths, the tables, even the sidelines where he could possibly be standing. At one point, a guy sitting on one of the front couches — a guy who's definitely not Aki — crooks his finger at you and whistles like he's asking you to come over. You ignore him completely, rushing past without even bothering to spare him a second glance. 

God, you're not a fucking dog, and besides, you've got better things to do right now. Better men to talk to. 

Finally, you reach the very last booth in the back of the club, and that's when you see him: Aki Hayakawa, sitting in the dimly lit corner by his lonesome, his long legs crossed over each other as he sips from his half-drank glass of beer. His foot is tapping the floor nervously, his eyes are looking everywhere but the stripper poles, and when you start to walk closer, when it's obvious you're deliberately heading in his direction, his gaze catches on you. 

You see him do a literal double-take, and you can't decide if it's because he recognized you from earlier, or if it's because of the outfit you're wearing. When he scans you up and down, and when his face grows flushed, his eyes wide, his lips parted in surprise, you start to lean towards the answer being the latter. 

You have on one of your usual dancing outfits: a strappy blue one-piece, with sheer black thigh highs and sparkly, blue high heels. Fancy, not unlike what the rest of the dancers are wearing, but certainly something special. The dress has windows on your hips and a window on your chest, it hugs your form tightly, accentuating your shape in all the right places. 

It's your boss's favorite, what he'd affectionately refer to as your "big-money outfit", or what your patrons might call a showstopper — Aki probably couldn't see it well when you were sitting down at the dingy bar, but now, when you're standing directly in the bright, fluorescent lights meant to show off the sparkle of an outfit like this one, you're sure he can see everything. 

When you reach Aki's booth, he promptly averts his eyes away from you. You almost expect him to tell you off, or to make some excuse to get you to leave. But if he was going to, you start speaking to him before he can get the chance: "Hey, can I sit next to you?" 

That question gets his attention. He quickly glances up at you. He eyes you up, and then down, and then back up again, slower than when he scanned you before. His mouth opens for a second, but then immediately closes, like there's something he wanted to say but inevitably decided not to. Finally, with a defeated sigh and an unsure expression still lingering on his face, Aki nods his head and uncrosses his legs, scooching to the side to give you room to squeeze into the booth next to him. 

You smile. "Thanks." 

You fold your hands neatly in your lap, sitting a foot or so away from where he's positioned. Aki has his head turned in the complete opposite direction, looking at something or other in the distance and leaving you to stare at the back of his ponytail. 

You've provided plenty of space between him and yourself so you won't make him too uncomfortable. But still, once you get settled in, Aki seems to stiffen a little: his legs fidget, and his knuckles tense when he grips the handle of his glass noticeably harder than before. 

To reassure him, you continue, tone soft and lighthearted, "Don't worry, I'm not gonna do anything. I'm on my break. I just needed a place to sit." 

Aki doesn't seem to acknowledge you, but from the way he slowly begins to relax again, leaning further into the plush booth, turning his head in order to look at you from the corner of his eye, it seems like your words were able to put him at ease, if only by a bit. 

For a few moments, he looks down, staring idly into the contents of his drink. Then, he looks up, his gaze locked on something towards the front of the club. The sight makes his nose crinkle in displeasure, so he keeps staring for only a second longer before looking back down at the table again.

Whatever he was looking at, you would've been interested to know. Maybe it was one of the dancers who he disapproved of, or maybe a patron was acting unruly. It doesn't matter, though. Either way, you have no idea, because all the while, you've been unable to take your eyes away from him.

This dim section of the club casts his features in columns of shadow and pockets of light. You can see every little detail of his so much clearer. It's the closest you've been to him yet, and the proximity somehow makes him look even more handsome. You're close enough to smell the slight, but unmistakable scent of smoke clinging to him. You get the faintest hint of his cologne: pleasant and fancy and an absolute delight to all of your senses. He smells like salty ocean waves breaking against the shore, like the crisp fluttery pages of an unopened book. 

You rest your elbow on the table and your face in your hand. Despite your obvious staring, Aki still seems to be paying you no mind; he closes his eyes and takes a long drink of beer from his glass. A tiny bit of white foam clings to the top of his lip and he wipes it away with the back of his hand. 

"Is this your first time coming to a place like this?" You ask with an eyebrow raised, breaking the silence. 

Aki glances towards you, his eyes wide, like he fully wasn't expecting you to speak. He's silent for a moment, either pondering how to answer the question, or deciding if you were even talking to him in the first place. The way you're expectantly staring at him tells him you probably were. 

"Ah, uhm," He raises his fist to his mouth and clears his throat, he replies a little awkwardly, "Yes, it is. How could you tell?" 

The nightclub's music is much quieter here. The sound is reduced to a dull hum where you can only make out the thump of the bass. The noise from people talking, cheering, or drunkenly shouting is a lot less loud from over here, too. It makes it a lot easier to hear his voice, to focus on him and only him. 

"Hm, well you seemed awfully uncomfortable from the moment you walked in," You answer honestly with a slight tilt of your head, "And that usually means you're new." 

For a second more, Aki stares at you curiously from the corner of his vision, but he doesn't reply — Instead, he breaks eye contact to calmly set down his glass of beer and reach into the pocket of his jacket. He's fishing around for something, and when he finds it, he's pulling out a familiar carton of cigarettes and gently tapping the bottom with his palm until one pops out. 

The box is a distinct shade of sky-blue. You immediately recognize the brand: Wild Raven Lights. It isn't the most popular brand in Tokyo, nor is it what you see the guys who usually come here smoking; that would be cigars, or cigarettes with a hell of a lot more nicotine. But it is the kind you preferred. The brand you used to smoke before you started trying to wean yourself off of them. 

You watch as a thin white cigarette is placed between his teeth, he shoves the packet of cigs back into his pocket and this time, pulls out a small silver zippo lighter. He flicks the top open, he shields the lighter with his palm. His thumb settles on the wheel, but before he strikes it, he freezes. 

With the cigarette still held in his lips, Aki takes a quick glance towards you. 

"Do you mind if I smoke?" 

You flash him a soft smile and reply, "Nope. Go ahead." 

Aki brings his focus back to his cig. With one firm strike of the wheel, the lighter produces a steady flame over the end of the cigarette, flaring it to life. When it starts to burn, he flicks the lighter closed and returns it to his pocket; his eyes flutter shut and his fingers hold the cigarette carefully as he takes a nice, long drag in. 

You can imagine how the smoke settles in his chest when he inhales, how the nicotine feels when it hits his veins, the sense of relief he gets when he tilts his head up and blows a thick puff of smoke up towards the ceiling — Just watching him makes you feel relaxed, as if you'd taken a hit yourself. Aki didn't really strike you as a smoker when you first saw him, but he handles his cigarette like a natural. 

"You smoke Wild Raven Lights?" 

Your question gets Aki's attention. He reaches over the table, he pinches the rim of the ashtray in the middle and tugs it closer. He leans his cigarette over it, and he taps the end to scatter the ashes. 

"Yeah." He replies simply. Smoke wisps up from the end of the cig, and it flares with light when Aki takes another deep hit. 

"I used to smoke those too." You drum your fingers against the table, and you look away from him for a while to glance around the busy club. "The lights are so much better than the regular ones. Those made me feel nauseous." 

There's people all around, dancers and patrons alike. You spot your boss in the crowd for a half-second and briefly wonder if he's looking for you. Your break was supposed to be over soon, wasn't it? The bar seats have all filled up, almost every couch and chair is crowded. And yet, when you're here in this quiet little corner in the back of the club, it feels like you and Aki are the only people who exist. 

You like that feeling. You like how it's just you and it's just him. 

Aki gives a slight nod in agreement to what you said, puffing another cloud of smoke. More people are funneling in from the entrance. The music grows louder and the lights begin to dim as a few dancers take center stage. 

"Hey." 

He draws your focus back to him. Meeting your eyes as effortlessly as if it was natural, he gestures his cigarette held between two of his fingers towards you. "Do you want one?" 

"Oh, no, no," You answer, raising your hands and shaking your head, "The boss doesn't let us smoke on the job. Plus I've been trying to quit. Thank you, though." 

Aki shrugs. He brings his cigarette to his parted lips, his voice is quiet, genuine. 

"Just tell me if the smoke starts to get to you." 

You've known Aki Hayakawa for all but five minutes, and he's already treated you kinder than any man you've known before him. 

Most customers don't have the time or the care for small talk, that's something you learned pretty early on; if they weren't shifting the conversation to something more appealing to them, they definitely would have badgered you for a lap dance by now. 

They wouldn't be keeping their hands to themselves like this, they wouldn't be affording you respect. They wouldn't have asked you if it was okay to smoke, either. They wouldn't be tilting their head to the side to blow their smoke away from you like Aki's doing. No, they'd be puffing it right in your face without a second thought. Even the nicest of the men you've met were still completely oblivious. 

If Aki Hayakawa was anyone else, if he was anything like the men you're used to meeting, the men you've always despised, perhaps you would have stood up and left a long time ago. No, you definitely would have. There's no amount of mysteriousness or intrigue or amount of your own unbearable boredom that would have made you willingly stay and accompany the usual kind of patron on your precious break time. 

You followed him because you thought he was interesting, because you thought he was handsome, even. You're well aware of the dwindling minutes left in your break by this point. If he was like the others, you would have walked away and gone back to working and found someone else to service who's closer to the crowd so your coworkers can keep an eye on you. 

But he's not. He isn't. He isn't rude, he isn't debauched. He's kind and quiet and dammit, it's refreshing to finally meet a man who doesn't look at you the way everyone else does — like an object to be won, like something to be devoured. Aki treats you like you're human. 

You could leave. You're getting ahead of yourself right now, definitely. You can't help but trust him though; you have a good sense for these sorts of things, and Aki simply doesn't feel like a bad person, not in the slightest. Yeah, you hardly know him. And that's the problem, you want to know him. 

You aren't getting up from this spot any time soon. 

"You know," You start, your eyes flickering over him; you examine his professional, straight posture, you can see the slightest prickle of nervousness in his gaze. "You don't have to be so shy. I know this is a lot, this environment, I mean. It's probably overwhelming, maybe a little embarrassing, too. But there's nothing to be ashamed of. It's our job to take care of you. You can relax."

Aki snaps back an immediate response, his tone blunt, his words humorless: "I can't."

He's a man of few words, you've noticed. But that was still far from anything you expected him to say. He takes you a bit off guard, and you can't help but giggle at how serious he sounds. 

You're speaking through a smile when you ask, "You can't relax? Why's that?" 

"I can't relax when I have to watch…" The bridge of Aki's nose wrinkles up in disgust, his lips curl and his eyebrows furrow. Cigarette still held between his fingers, he points to a place in the distance — "That." 

You sit up straight in your seat, you follow Aki's stare and the point of his finger. Honestly, you figured you knew what he'd be talking about before you looked, and sure enough, his gaze leads right to none other than his coworker, Kishibe. The sight is somehow even more ridiculous than the last time you saw it. 

There's one girl tenderly massaging his shoulders, another sitting next to him with her fingers hooked in the loops of his belt, and another who's hand-feeding him horderves. The part that really gets you is these aren't the same girls you remember seeing earlier — It's a totally different group. 

Kishibe looks like he's having the time of his life, but when you turn back to Aki, the irritated expression on his face says it all. 

You chuckle, "Yeah, it's pretty absurd, isn't it? Kishibe is super popular with the girls here." 

Aki turns to you in surprise. "You know him?" 

"Of course. He's here super often, you know. Every weekend actually, either to fill up on alcohol or to flirt with girls. He's one of our regulars." 

"Figures." Aki scoffs. His eyes narrow, and he absently fiddles with his half-smoked cigarette between his fingers. He brings it to his lips, and he finishes speaking before taking another drag. "I'm not surprised. At least he isn't making me pay his tab this time."

"He seems like the type, doesn't he?" 

You pause while Aki steadily breathes out another puff of smoke. God, the scent is intoxicating. When his eyes flutter open again, meeting yours, you swallow, and you continue. 

"He's a good guy, though. At least, compared to some of our other customers. I understand why most of the girls here are desperate for him." 

Point-blank and curt, Aki asks, "Are you desperate for him?" 

You? Desperate for Kishibe? 

Now that response gives you a full-blown laugh. The way he said it didn't sound like jealousy, or like envy, or even like anger. More like utter confusion. As if he doesn't understand how anyone could act so obsessed, especially towards a man like Kishibe. 

Or maybe he doesn't get how Kishibe could let those women obsess over and pamper him, especially women he hardly knows. He thinks it's suffocating, or stupid, or both, actually. 

"Ah, no, not really," You clear your throat as your laughter starts to fade, and Aki stares at you with a neutral expression. You shrug, "He's alright, I guess. Not rude or anything like most guys are. I don't hate him. I just think he's kind of… I can't think of a nice way to put it." 

"A drunkard." 

"Hah, yes. A drunkard." You agree with a playful roll of your eyes, "But it's not like I haven't seen worse. That's why I can't totally despise him, you know? Seriously, you wouldn't believe the pigs we have to deal with on a regular basis. Kishibe's tame compared to those men." 

"No, I believe it." Aki exhales one final cloud of smoke before stamping out the butt of his spent cigarette into the ashtray. He grinds it down, almost in an angry sort of manner. "They're all disgusting. The men from the third division are always coming here, and I can't stand any of them. The way they talk makes me sick." 

There's a second of silence. Then another. You can feel each one in your heart. Aki looks towards you. He meets your eyes, his voice takes on a much softer, much gentler tone. "I'm sorry you have to deal with people like that. It's draining, I'm sure." 

"Oh," You're caught by surprise for a moment, but you shake your head and offer him a reassuring smile. "It's alright. Don't apologize. I'm the one who chose to work here, after all." 

Aki takes another swig of his beer without breaking eye contact with you. 

"And besides," You continue, "It's not all bad. The pay is good. You get free food and drinks, can't complain about that. And…" You rest your head on your arms, you peer up at him through your lashes. "I suppose not all the men who come here are horrible."

"Yeah?" Aki crosses his arms over his chest, and he leans back, listening closely to you as you continue. Utterly clueless. 

"Mhmm. A lot of them are irritating, sure, but most of them are just lonely. Some men come here because they're married or dating someone, and they've become unsatisfied in the relationship — Those guys are always the worst. And some of them come only 'cause they've got money to blow and want a pretty girl to throw it at." 

You pause, considering, placing a finger to your chin in an exaggerated thinking pose. "I think… Kishibe is the third type. He's got no shortage of money to burn, that's for sure. And you're probably the first kind. The kind of guy who's just lonely." 

Aki squints his eyes. "Are you serious?" 

You snort, "Hey, I didn't mean it in a bad way. I think most devil hunters are lonely, that's why guys from Public Safety are always showing up here. But unlike those guys, you seem like you actually know how to treat a woman." 

Aki stays quiet for a couple of long, drawn-out seconds. His expression is completely impossible to read. The silence allows you to hear the song that's playing on the speakers, and you recognize it as one you've heard at least a million times on your various shifts. In the corner of your eye, you can see the dancers drawing large crowds around the stages, the lights flickering in colorful hues. 

You decide to break the silence. "Sorry, sir. I didn't mean to make a bunch of assumptions about you right away." 

Finally, Aki sighs, and he answers, "Just don't get the wrong idea about me. I'm not someone who would come to a place like this, and I don't want to be associated with everyone who does. I didn't want to come here in the first place. Mister Kishibe dragged me." 

"Oh, so it's like that, huh?" You smirk. You knew it, but you still force an air of confusion into your tone. "Why'd he take you here, then? Is it your birthday or something?" 

"Pfft. No, it's not. He made me come with him tonight because he said it would help me relax since work's been stressful lately. But…" 

Aki trails off. His expression changes, it morphs into something like exasperation. Where his arms are still crossed tightly around his chest, you can see his hand start to clench a little. 

"But being here just makes me feel more stressed." 

Your heart pangs. You lower your voice by a couple of volumes when you speak next. 

"I see. I get it. This place isn't for everyone, that's for sure. It's mean to force you along. You'd much rather be relaxing by yourself at home, huh?" 

Aki exhales a particularly heavy breath, but he doesn't respond. He just listens to you speak. 

"You don't deserve any extra stress, I'm sure you go through so much already. I can't even imagine the kind of things you see on the job, it must take such a toll on you…" You shake your head. "I keep up with the news when I have time, and I've seen all the stuff about devil attacks that've been happening lately. They can try to hide it all they want but either way, it's always all anyone can talk about." 

"Devils have been becoming more and more frequent and even more dangerous with no kind of warning." Aki's eyebrows furrow into a knot, he speaks sharply through gritted teeth. "So many people could die and… And no-one else is taking it seriously. The more the news puts out those programs, the more scared people become, and then, the worse the devils get." 

He swallows thickly to combat the dryness in his throat. "There must be a reason for all of this. Impossibly strong devils don't just appear out of the blue. Something or someone is causing it, and before it's too late, we need to… I've got to…" 

He doesn't manage to finish his sentence. Still, you're surprised. You weren't expecting him to be so talkative. Aki has a complicated, solemn sort of look on his face, his gaze dark and clouded. 

I've got to. The way he says it is like if anything happens, if people die or if something goes awry, it'll be him who's responsible. Like this is all a heavy burden he alone has to carry, whether it's by choice or by circumstance. 

He's acting like he can do it, he's pretending none of this bothers him and everything is fine even though it clearly isn't. He's scared. You know he's scared, because he's already fishing around in his pocket for another cigarette — in the same way you remember doing when you felt like your own stress would eat you alive. His knee is bouncing with anxiety, his hands are shaking so much it's making lining up his lighter with the end of the cig and striking it damn near impossible. 

You could have been in his shoes. It could have been you who had to fight devils and put your life on the line. But instead, it's a man who's way too kindhearted for his own good. 

"Here. Gimme." 

Before Aki can protest, you're leaning over the table and snatching the lighter from his clenched hand. He lets go without a fight, he turns towards you, holds still like he's frozen. Cigarette between his teeth, his eyes scan your face, gaze unreadable. You lift the lighter, you strike the wheel and bring a steady flame to his cigarette in one fluid, practiced motion. 

Sparks flicker from the end once you've lit it. Smoke wafts up towards the ceiling, the smell of fire and ash once again come to tickle at your lungs. You set his lighter back on the table. Aki glances at you one more time before he takes it. 

You've shifted a bit closer to him. As he's fumbling to shove his lighter back in his jacket pocket, he doesn't seem to notice — That is, until ever-so slightly, your knee touches his. 

Clearly it wasn't a coincidence, because you aren't pulling away, you aren't moving. You meant to sit this close to him. You're barely even touching, really. But the little bit of contact, just the tiniest bit of closeness: it brings him back to reality, like a rippling pool of water finally becoming still. 

Aki fiddles with the cigarette in his mouth. He gives up on taking a puff, snatching it from his lips and holding it between two fingers. He rests his elbows on the table, he exhales a long, wavering breath. Your knee touching his is enough to stop him from shaking. 

"Hey." You speak quietly, calmly. You keep your hands folded in your lap and you lean a little bit closer to him so he can hear you better, so he'll be the only one to hear your voice. "Are you alright?" 

Aki glances up towards you hurriedly; his expression softens, he gives you a shallow nod of his head. 

"I'm fine. Don't worry about me." He answers, and he rolls his shoulders back to relieve some of the tension. "I'm just… I'm…" 

You complete his sentence: "Stressed?" 

"Yes, stressed. Stressed and tired." Aki replies. He reaches for the ashtray, and he stamps his cigarette out without ever taking a single hit. 

"It's hard on you, isn't it? You must be sick of this." 

"I'm sick and tired of everything. Of watching people die and not- and just-" 

It's then, with his voice quiet and frail and about to shatter, with the music loud and the lights shimmering in gradients of blue, purple, and white — It's then where you see him start to crack. 

Aki sighs deeply, his arms shake and he puts his head in his hands. His body curls in on itself, like a turtle withdrawing into its shell. He looks like he'd rather be anywhere but here. Like he wants to disappear. 

"Sorry, why am I telling you this?" His voice is muffled by his hands, "I've said too much." 

You manage to huff a dry laugh. "It's okay. You've had a lot on your mind, huh? You gotta get that stuff out of your system somehow. Don't worry about it."

When he doesn't respond, just keeps on breathing deep and slow, you continue talking, your voice reassuring: "You have to deal with so many things, don't you? It's hard to keep all of your stress inside, it'll start to eat away at you. Sounds like you've needed to tell someone all of that for a long while."

After a few long moments leave you wondering if he even heard you or not, Aki finally pulls his face away from his hands. He sits up and leans back in exasperation, he rubs his pinched temple with his fingers. 

"I guess so." He replies simply, plainly. 

You hesitate. "Listen, this is kind of stupid, and I know you don't know me very well, but… I'm glad I could be here for you. I'm glad you felt like you could open up to me, I suppose. I don't really understand what it's like to be a devil hunter. But I can try to. You can talk to me about anything. Promise." 

Aki drops his hands into his lap, he stares aimlessly at the ceiling. "I appreciate it, but I think I'd rather not talk about it anymore. I'll be fine." 

You're not sure if he's telling the truth, or if he's only saying that in order to quell your concerns for him. 

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay?" You ask, tilting your head at him. "If you want to go home, you can, y'know. Kishibe will be just fine without you. I'll tell him you weren't feeling well. Or you can stand outside, we've got a whole area for smoking and stuff. It's not as loud over there." 

"I'm sure. I'll leave later. I want to order another drink." 

Right on queue, Aki grips the handle of his beer, and he swiftly chugs what's left in the glass. Then, he sets it back down on the table with a sigh. 

You stay silent, thinking to yourself. You rest your head in your palm and tap your finger against your cheek. 

All this talk of drinks and finding somewhere quieter has given you the perfect idea. 

"Hey, sir, can I ask what your name is?" 

Aki glances towards you, and his response comes much quicker than you expected: "Aki Hayakawa." 

You can't help but feel a slight smile start to tug at the corners of your cheeks. He introduced himself to you so willingly, and with his full name, too. How cute. 

"Hm," You feign thinking for a moment, pressing your finger to your chin, and Aki stares at you curiously with an eyebrow raised. Then, you shake your head, concluding, "Nope, I haven't heard that one before. It's nice to meet you, Mister Hayakawa." 

There's another pause as Aki crosses his arms over his chest, his foot tapping idly against the floor, and as you tell him your name. Your real name. 

That's a first for you; you've always used a stage name when it comes to guys from the club, all the dancers do. It's something about wanting to keep your anonymity, and not wanting your real life associated with your club work. None of your patrons know what your real name is, and you've often gone to great lengths to keep them from finding out. 

And yet, you've just told Aki without even thinking twice. You can't say you regret it. You genuinely don't think he'd do anything malicious, and after what he's told you, after how honest he's been, it wouldn't feel right to lie to him. Even about something so small. 

"So, Hayakawa," You start, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere, "If you want, we've got private rooms in the back, I can show you to one. You can get away from the crowd and the noise. I don't know about you, but I've been dying to go somewhere quieter." 

A tight knot forms in your gut at the mention of the club's private rooms, just at the implication of inviting someone — a man — back there. You're quick to flash Aki an innocent smile and push that feeling away. 

Aki cocks an eyebrow and immediately counters, "Aren't you supposed to be working?" 

"Maybe." 

Aki's face goes completely deadpan. You try to keep yourself from grinning only to see his reaction, but you're unable to hold back a wide, playful smile. 

"Come on, I'm kidding," You tease, rolling your eyes, "I told you I was on break, didn't I?" 

Aki glances away from you, and he goes silent, as if he's considering your offer. His gaze is caught on something in the distance again, and when you follow his line of vision, you see he's looking at none other than Kishibe, and at all of the women flocking around him. 

You can see the contemplation on Aki's face, how it turns to annoyance, and then into pure disgust, his eyebrows scrunching, his eyes narrowing. It's clear he's getting sick of watching them, of even being around them. 

You're certain by now he'll accept your proposal. Your heart flutters with anticipation, and just for good measure, you lean in closer, and you coo one last thing into the devil hunter's ear: I'll make you some drinks?

Those words seem to do the trick, because finally, Aki is uncrossing his arms and sitting up, he's looking towards you and replying, "Yeah. That'd be nice. I'd like to get away from here for a bit." 

You smile. "I can arrange that." 

You're wasting no time sliding out of the booth, fixing your bunched up dress as you stand and moving aside to allow Aki to follow close behind. He steps out of the booth, he rises to his feet, he stands up straight in front of you and shit, he's tall. So tall your heart is instantly thumping a mile a minute in your chest. 

You knew he'd be much larger than you from when he first approached the bar, and you could tell he'd most likely tower over you from when he was standing next to Mister Kishibe and your boss: two men who are already leagues above you in height. But now that he's standing right next to you, the difference in size between him and yourself is much more noticeable. It leaves Aki to look down at where you are, and leaves you to crane your neck in order to peer up at him. 

Aki reaches up to adjust his tie, pulling on the diamond until it's straight, and you clear your throat a little awkwardly, trying to force down the butterflies in your stomach. He meets your eyes, and you exchange a wordless glance with him before tilting your head, signaling for him to follow you. 

You start heading towards the other end of the club, occasionally glancing behind you to make sure he's still following. In no time, the crowd starts to get thicker. The music gets louder, the lights grow brighter. You're abruptly reminded of what you really hate about this club as everything gets so, so much more suffocating. You can't reach the private rooms without walking past the array of stages, so you're forced to get back into the thick of things. When you were in that quiet corner alone with Aki, you almost began to forget the level of chaos you have to deal with on a daily basis. 

You find yourself shouldering through people, trying your best to avoid catching anyone's attention, all while Aki follows you at your heels — but when the crowd suddenly gets thicker than before, when he's worried he'll end up losing you, you hear his shoes scrape the tile as he shuffles closer, and his hand softly settles on your shoulder. 

"Sorry." Aki says immediately, his voice a little muffled over the music and noise, but unmistakable nevertheless. He takes his hand away from you as if your skin was liquid hot fire and his palm just got burned. 

But even so, it's like his touch is still there. It's like you can feel the ghost of where his gentle hand settled on your body. 

He was touching your skin for barely more than a second, but it was enough to make your spine tingle, enough to give you a warm, melty feeling in the pit of your stomach — It felt comfortable, and that's something you've never felt before. Not since you started working here, and certainly not from the hands of a man like him. Until now. 

You abruptly freeze in your tracks, and Aki stops not far behind you. Before he can say anything, you turn around and reach for his hand; you grab onto it tightly, firmly. When you glance up at him, you swear you can see his eyes widen in surprise, or maybe nervousness, or perhaps both, but he doesn't stop you, and you don't give him a chance to — You're quickly rushing ahead and returning to leading him along. 

With his hand in yours, you find it difficult to focus, though. His palm is naturally cold, his skin is a bit rough; his thumb brushes against yours so softly your heart begins to ache. You find yourself accidentally walking too far and needing to turn around because you were so focused on the tender way he holds your hand that you ended up forgetting where you were going. 

His fingers fold loosely over your knuckles; his hand is much, much larger than your own, it almost dwarfs yours entirely, and yours and his fit together in such a way that feels right, that makes you want for him to never let go. 

And you know you're a little ridiculous for thinking so. You're getting too sappy, you're losing your mind. You know this man shouldn't be making your heart flutter so easily, with the faintest of touches and the simplest of words. 

Yet, you can't help how you feel about him, you can't stop your cheeks from getting warm and your brain from stringing together thoughts of what's going to happen when the two of you are all alone again. Truly alone, with no-one else watching. You can't deny what Aki does to you, and you're sure he doesn't even know. 

He has no idea how your heart is pounding in your chest as you reach the hallway and lead him down, or how your breath is coming out faster than it should be and you haven't even arrived at your destination yet. You're excited, giddy, your head spins with a high sort of sensation. 

If you weren't slightly tipsy, and if you weren't in such a mood to make impulsive decisions right now, maybe you would be judging yourself more than this. You'd be thinking about something other than the feeling of Aki's hand, you wouldn't be smiling to yourself at the way he follows behind you so obediently. 

Maybe you'd find what you're doing to be rather indecent. It's not like you're planning to take things any further with him — but when you know exactly where you're leading him to, you can't rule out the possibility. 

Either way, whatever happens, you wager Aki doesn't know what he's getting into. 

You glance behind you when you have a few seconds and you spot him looking around, observing the various rooms and entrances that litter the cramped hallway. Some of the rooms are open and spacious; they're more like lounge areas, really, with couches and tables sprawled across the space for many people to sit at. The couches are decorated with fluffy pillows, the tables are littered with finished-off drink glasses. He peers into one once you start to walk a little slower; a set of sheer curtains are drawn in front of the entryway, but it's still possible to see inside. 

There's a man sitting comfortably in a leather loveseat, legs spread wide, and a dancer with long, flowing hair perched on his lap. His hands are tangled in her hair, her mouth is on his, and the last thing Aki sees before you tug him forwards and coax him along is the man's broad hands traveling down to cup the shape of the dancer's ass. 

Oh. 

The rooms get quieter the further you travel, more private, each one complete with colorful lighting and a large, luxurious bed. Most of them are empty, but when you pass the ones which have their doors closed, Aki swears he can hear what's going on inside. 

The cooing tones of a dancer sweet-talking her patron, the tell-tale squeaks of the mattress. It makes his mouth go dry and his heart leap right inside his throat — Shit, shit, he thought this was something different, he didn't realize what a "private room" was supposed to be until now, and he feels ridiculously stupid for not realizing it sooner. 

He's going to be alone, in a room just like those ones, with a bed, with just you. 

Aki starts to walk a bit faster, closing some of the distance between you and him. You hear him right next to your ear, words quiet like a bitten whisper, laced with a sense of nervousness: "Hey, we're not, I mean, are you…" 

His sudden voice makes you stop in place. You turn around to face him, staring at him curiously, waiting for him to finish his sentence. 

Your eyes on him make him too nervous to piece together whatever he was actually meaning to say, so instead, he looks down at his shoes, he clears his throat, and he tries to come up with the next best thing. 

"Isn't… Isn't this kind of thing illegal in Japan?" 

"What is?" 

Aki's practically sweating. The hallway is starting to feel a whole lot more cramped. "This. This whole… thing. You know what I mean." 

His shyness is confirming what you previously figured to be true: that he's just now discovered what these private rooms are really for. 

"Oh, prostitution?" You answer in realization, your tone completely lighthearted, like you aren't bothered in the slightest. "Yeah, but there's loopholes to get around it. Come on, this is the most popular club in the red-light district. Did you really think they wouldn't have it under control already?" 

Aki's eyes flicker over your face. He stares at you, utterly dumbfounded. 

"Listen, if someone wants to do… that sort of thing," You explain, "As long as they do it here, inside this club, they won't get in trouble for it. Besides, you devil hunters get special privileges anyway. If the police ever found out — Hell, even if they sat here and watched you do it, I doubt you'd get anything more than a slap on the wrist." 

Aki squints. "So… it's still illegal." 

"Well, duh. Are you planning to snitch to the cops or what?" 

"I don't have time." 

"Then less worrying, more walking." Your hand squeezes his; you signal with a tilt of your head for him to keep following you, but Aki keeps his feet planted firmly in place. 

"Wait," He pipes up, his tone serious, "It's okay if we're back here, right? I don't want you to get in trouble." 

You're silent for a little too long. "I mean, technically no." 

If you could take a picture of the look on his face right in that moment, you would've. Aki's eyes go completely wide, his face washes a tone as white as his dress shirt and his lips fall open a little, just slightly ajar in confusion and astonishment and it's so damn cute that it's impossible for you to keep up the charade for any longer. 

"Listen, listen, calm down," You squeeze his hand again, your smile is warm and the sight seems to start to put him at ease. 

"I'm listening." 

"The rooms back here are supposed to be for VIPs or private bookings only," You tell him, "But the boss frequently makes exceptions for special cases. For special people, I should say." 

"Special people?"

"Yeah. Like devil hunters." 

Aki's found his composure by now, mostly, at least; he meets your gaze with a blank expression and one eyebrow cocked. "Seems like devil hunters get away with a lot around here." 

In response, you simply snort, playfully roll your eyes, and turn around to continue leading him further down the hallway. And this time, Aki swallows down his anxieties and follows behind without protest. 

You drag him all the way to the end, to the furthest room at the very back, away from the noise and the people. It's similar to the rooms you've passed, Aki notices, but unlike them, this one has a door that features a shiny, gold plated label with the word, "VIP" carved into it, followed by a small logo of a fox. The doorknob is gold too, distinctly heart-shaped. 

You stop, your hand finally tears away from his for what seems like the first time in ages — and you don't have time to dwell on how empty it feels because you're already closing your fingers into a fist and raising your knuckle to knock. You strike the door once, twice, to a chirpy rhythm. Nothing. You press your ear to it and listen, just in case. 

When no-one replies, and when you hear nothing inside, you test the doorknob: unlocked. The door swings open with a quiet creak, and Aki follows you as you step inside. 

The very first thing he notices is the plushness under his sneakers once he's stepped all the way in — He glances down, and the room's floor is adorned with fluffy, pink carpet, the fibers swallow up his shoes. 

Then, when he looks up again, he sees the circular bed in the middle of the room, not unlike what he expected: neatly tucked in covers, a canopy over the top, and an array of poofy, luxurious-looking pillows spread out towards the headboard. It's noticeably fancier than the other beds he saw though, it has Aki wondering just how special this room is. Obviously it's meant for VIPs, and it doesn't take a genius to tell the whole room was decorated to fit… a very specific taste. 

Not that he's got anything wrong with pink. There's just a lot of it, from the covers on the bed, to the walls painted a baby pink shade — The whole room is washed in shades of sunset and tulip, dimly lit and illuminated only by hot pink LED lights shining from the ceiling and under the bed, as well as by a warm, little lamp resting on a quaint bedside table. 

It's quiet here, though. Quiet enough to hear his own heartbeat in his ears, and just as quiet as you said it'd be. Thank God. It feels nice to be able to think clearly for once. 

A wooden mini bar is fit snugly into the right-hand corner, with empty wine and champagne glasses lined up on top, and bottles of various drinks stocked in the underside. Aki's shoulders slump, he sighs; That's right. You wanted to make him something to drink. 

You hold the door open for him to step inside, and before you close it behind him, you snatch the "Do not disturb" sign from the inside doorknob, reaching around to hang it on the outside. When you shut the door, there's a very brief moment where you consider flicking the lock — but in the end, you decide to leave it alone. 

The sign should be enough. And even if it isn't, does it matter if someone walks in? It doesn't, it shouldn't, because you're only having some drinks, right? You aren't going to be doing anything that you wouldn't want someone else to see. Right? 

If you keep thinking about it for any longer, you might end up driving yourself insane. 

So, figuring you've hovered at the entryway for long enough, you walk past Aki and make your way to the mini bar. You say as you pass him, "Feel free to make yourself comfortable." 

He nods, and he's quick to follow your suggestion. His careful fingers pop each button on his suit jacket one by one, all the way until he's able to tug it from his arms, leaving him in his crisp white undershirt and tie. He hangs the jacket up neatly on a hook on the back of the door. 

As you're bending down to look through what's stocked at the mini bar, he's sitting on the bed; you can see him out of the corner of your eye, his legs rested over one another, his arms crossed around his chest. You're bent over to the point where your outfit is riding up, it's revealing more of your ass and your thighs and Aki shouldn't be looking, but he swears he catches the smallest glimpse of what you're wearing underneath before he swiftly looks elsewhere and tries to forget about it, which thankfully, he does right as you're peering at him from over your shoulder. 

You notice how his dress shirt is tucked neatly into his slacks, how a simple, leather belt is snugly clasped in the loops. He's perched on the very edge of the bed, as if he's too nervous to sit any further back, too shy to really let himself relax — At least, in the way the room's intended. The mattress dips slightly under his weight, and the martini glasses hung on the rack all clink together when you grab two of them: one for him, and one for you. 

"So, Hayakawa," You start, giving him a second quick glance from over your shoulder. "What kind of drink would you like?" 

"Oh," Aki grasps the diamond of his tie, pulling on it to work it loose while his gaze travels across the room. He examines the bar, the glittery curtains surrounding the bed, the small set of red, leather armchairs placed in the opposite corner. "Anything is fine. Surprise me." 

You're digging around in the compact mini fridge sat next to the bar when you ask, "You like champagne, right?" 

"Sure." 

"Alright, good. You'll like this then." 

Once you've found everything you need, you start to prepare the drinks. There's a small basket of fresh lemons and limes resting atop the bar counter, and you grab a lemon to slice into wedges.

Aki tilts his head, he tries to watch what you're doing, but the only thing he can manage to see is your back, and all he can do is listen to the sound of the champagne being poured. He decides he'll give the room another once-over while he waits. 

He turns around, then, and he comes to notice the wall behind him for the first time. It's covered in hooks and racks, with an assortment of items hung up on them; most he doesn't recognize, but he can make out what looks like a leather, spiked dog collar. A matching black leash. A pair of metal handcuffs. 

There's a long object that looks like some kind of whip, with a thick handle adorned by red, painted-on heart shaped marks. But when he's struggling to decide what the majority of these things are for, Aki starts to second guess himself on his initial assumption. 

He immediately looks away, a familiar prickle of anxiety twists up his spine, the same sense of nervousness he felt earlier in the hallway — And that's when his eyes catch on the nightstand. Right below the lamp, right beside the dark ashtray littered with countless cigarette butts, there's a clear plastic container stocked up of what Aki first thought were wipes, or maybe mints. 

Upon a closer look at the packaging, though, he realizes they couldn't be anything else but the one thing he didn't want them to be: unopened packets of condoms. 

Fucking condoms. Of course. He really shouldn't have expected anything different. 

"Hayakawa." 

When you've turned back around, the finished drinks in hand, Aki is hastily trying to redo his tie with a flustered expression on his face, cheeks and the tips of his ears painted rosy pink. Your voice shakes him out of his daze. It causes him to look towards you, his eyes meeting yours. 

"Are you okay?" You walk towards him, you reach to place the glasses on the nightstand. Right next to the condoms that you most definitely know are there but so clearly aren't at all affected by. 

Maybe he's overthinking. No, he's definitely overthinking this, he's definitely getting way too worked up over something so stupid and obvious. There's no reason for him to be freaking out. He needs to get it together, so why can't he? Why is he so damn nervous whenever he's around you? 

Get it together, get it together… 

As he stays silent, you continue, "What happened? You look pale." 

"Sorry… I'm sorry." Aki uncrosses his legs and looks away. "It's fine. It's nothing." 

His clear awkwardness can't help but draw a quiet laugh from you. 

"You nervous?" 

"I'm not." 

"I think you are." You tilt your head at him, smirking a little. Aki doesn't answer, he simply keeps fiddling with his tie, running the smooth fabric beneath his fingers, twirling it into loops before letting go of it again. 

Oh, he knows what he's gotten himself into now. He probably knew it from the moment you led him down the hallway, but now that he's all alone with you, everything must be really starting to set in. 

"You'll be alright. Just try to relax, yeah? Here-"

You suddenly lean in close to him, and Aki thinks his heart might have skipped a beat — Or two, or three. You grasp his tie and his arms fall at his sides once you start to tug it free from his collar, he forgets how to breathe when you undo it, tossing it on the bed nonchalantly and reaching next for the buttons on his dress shirt. 

He thinks of stopping you. He wants to force a cold-sounding What are you doing? from his mouth but it's no use; he's already given in. 

"Let's loosen some of these for you." 

With gentle fingers, you pop the first button on his dress shirt, and then the second; your ministrations expose his pretty collarbones, defined and curved, as well as the smallest part of his chest, his skin slightly scarred, flushed rose to match the color of his face. Aki's gaze goes heavy, his eyelashes flutter. 

You're close, you're so close. You're so close and he doesn't know how to get his heartbeat to slow down, he has no idea what the hell's gotten into him — You graciously give him a bit of reprieve by leaning back and letting go, allowing him just enough space to breathe freely again. 

"Better?" You ask, before he can reply you're reaching down to unzip your knee-high boots and starting to take them off. "You can take off your shoes, too." 

Aki pauses, but in the end, he decides to listen to your suggestion; he steps firmly on the heel of his sneakers until he's able to carelessly kick them off his feet. 

Then, you grab the drinks on the nightstand, you hand him his cocktail and bring yours to your mouth. 

Aki peers into the glass. The liquid is a pale shade of pink, not much different from the color of the bedsheets, and the rim is topped with a bright yellow lemon. Cubes of ice jingle inside the glass when he experimentally swirls it. 

"I made this batch pretty good." You comment, half to him and half to yourself. Taking a small sip of your drink, you finish it off with a satisfied, Ahh. 

"What is it?" 

"Pink lemonade mimosa. It's my favorite. Maybe it's kind of… not really your style. But I thought you might end up liking it anyway." 

Aki looks up at you for a moment, then back down at his drink. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, he closes his eyes, and he brings the glass up to his lips. 

The taste is a sweet one. Lemonade and sugar are the main components, the champagne is more of an aftertaste. It's citrusy, the lemonade lessens the acidity of the champagne. He can see why you'd like this. It tastes like the warmth from the summer sun. 

When Aki meets your eyes again, you're staring at him expectantly. 

"What do you think?" 

"It's good," He answers honestly, "Really good. I like it." 

You flash him a warm smile. "Great. I'm glad." 

For a while after you speak those words, the room grows oddly quiet. Aki continues to nurse his drink in silence, his expression unreadable, his cheeks flourished with warmth, and you occasionally take sips from yours while allowing your mind to wander. 

Since the both of you first walked in this room, Aki's been acting strange. 

When you met him, you thought you had him all figured out. He's honest to the point where you assumed he had nothing to hide. He comes off as determined, the serious type, not necessarily cold-hearted, but certainly grounded when it comes to how he presents himself. Even though you knew he was a bit shy about being here, he didn't seem like the type of person who'd get flustered this easily, nor the kind of man who'd stick around for this long. You fully expected him to turn you away the minute he figured out where you were taking him. 

You wonder if he's just too polite to tell you no. You question if maybe, there's something occupying his mind, something he hasn't told you yet. You knew there were still a lot of things you didn't understand about him. Still so much you need to learn, so much you so desperately want to know — but you're running out of time. 

Your thoughts flash to the busy club. Your boss is probably starting to look for you now, the guests you were talking to before you went on your break are probably beginning to wonder where you went. Once you've finished your drink, you'll have to go right back into the fray — and that realization immediately forces a heavy weight of worry upon your shoulders. 

You have only a few more moments with the man you've come to know. Aki will leave, you'll leave. After tonight, you won't expect to be seeing him again. You'll go back to boredom and he'll go back to working himself half to death. And then, you'll be nothing but strangers once more. 

It's possible Aki would forget you as quickly as he met you. You wouldn't bother to cross his mind, he might not even remember your name. And why would he have to? This experience would be nothing but a bad memory and a reminder to never again let himself get dragged to places he's already sure he doesn't want to go to. 

But you wouldn't forget him. 

There's something about Aki Hayakawa that would be impossible to forget. He's kind-hearted, he's softer than any other devil hunter you've come across. He consistently puts you before himself and fuck, he doesn't even know you. It's just the kind of person he is: selfless to a fault. 

You're drawn to him, you've felt drawn to him from the start. You think you're good at reading people, you have a keen sense for whether or not someone is genuine. Your trust in Aki hasn't wavered. He isn't like any of the other men you've encountered while working here; honestly, it's almost unfair to compare the two. He's wildly different from anything and everything you've come to expect. 

It's a bit of a new feeling for you. The pitter-pattering of your heart, the giddy twist and bloom in your chest. You haven't felt this way about anyone in ages, you haven't been enamored this strongly, this limitlessly in perhaps forever. 

You want to show Aki a good time, you want to find a way to make this night truly worth his while. And it's not just because you feel bad about the unfortunate circumstances which brought him here, even though you're certain you'll be chewing out his coworker later. It isn't because devil hunters like him are known for having lined pockets, you could care less about his money. And it certainly isn't only because this is your job. 

You want to help him relax because you've grown to care about him, because you want to be closer to him. Aki is more than he lets on; his soul is something tender, intricate. There's sides to him you haven't seen, pieces yet to fall into place. You want to open up his heart to uncover what he's kept hidden, what he wouldn't tell anyone else besides someone like you because in reality, it's easier to divulge your secrets to someone who rests between the realm of close and distant — to someone you hardly even know. 

Giving him whatever he wants is the least you can do for him, because whenever you're close, you can practically feel the stress clinging to him like an anchor into hell. You couldn't help but notice the faint cross-hatchings of scars on his chest when you unbuttoned his shirt, or the rough calluses on his knuckles when you held his hand. 

If there's one thing you're sure of, it's this: you aren't ready for this night to be over. 

If you won't forget him, you'll make it so he won't ever forget you. 

You've been enjoying your cocktail the whole time you were thinking, but you decide to give it one more sip; you savor the last delicious taste of lemonade and sparkling wine on your tongue. Then, you smile at him, and you promptly break the silence.  

"I like your earrings." 

You catch him off guard right away, and Aki's gaze flickers up to your own, his shoulders stiffening slightly. He politely covers his mouth with his palm, swallowing the rest of his drink and clearing his throat before speaking. 

"Oh, uhm- Thank you." — His response is curt, his voice carries his familiar sense of professionalism but it still wavers with a hint of awkwardness, with a bit of disbelief, almost. He sounds shy, he closes his eyes and takes another idle sip of his drink. He obviously isn't used to being complimented. 

With no hesitation, you boldly ask, "Can I touch them?" 

"Ah-" Aki reaches up with his free hand, brushing his fingers over the circular piercing on his lobe like he's checking if they're still there. "My earrings?" 

"Mhmm." 

His eyes dart over you, up and down. "Uh, sure." 

Tossing your head back, you top off the rest of your cocktail, reaching over and setting the empty glass on the nightstand once you're finished. You take a step towards him, close enough to make your knees bump into his. You bend down, and slowly, you reach out to pinch his lobes between your index finger and your thumb. 

Aki's gaze stays trained on you, deep blue irises sparked with wonder, with adoration. His expression is blank, he's wordless, but the increases in his breathing and his pretty eyes — Those are a dead giveaway. The backs of his earrings are spikes of pointy metal, and the front are round, they're smooth and glossy to the touch. They reflect subtle glimmers of the room's pinkish light whenever you tilt them. 

"They're so pretty." You peer at Aki through your lashes, you're almost certain you see his eyes widen. "Did they hurt? Where did you get them done?" 

"Not really, they only hurt for a second," Aki answers earnestly, his voice resolute. "And it was some piercing shop in Kanagawa… It's been a while, so I don't remember the name. I'm sorry." 

"It's alright. That's not too far from here, I could go. I'm sure I'll end up finding it." 

Your fingertips brush Aki's bangs behind his ears softly, and he sighs, barely audible, gaze never tearing away from yours like he's mesmerized. He's busy swallowing the thick lump in his throat as you abruptly pull away from him. 

You stand up straight, placing your hands on your hips. "I got some piercings done when I was on vacation, but I was thinking of getting my ears pierced too." 

"You… You have piercings?" Aki glances to your ears; unlike his, your lobes are completely bare. When he squints, he can't even see a hole. 

"Mhm, I do." You nod, and Aki finishes off the rest of his drink while you talk. "You sound surprised. Are you?"

"A little." 

"I think they suit me. Sucks that they're hidden most of the time, though." 

Aki's face pinches into an expressive concoction of disbelief and confusion. He looks so ridiculous; you manage to stifle a couple of your giggles, but it's not long before you're practically doubling over and bursting into laughter. 

"What's so funny?" Aki doesn't get it. 

"It's… It's just…" 

The alcohol is starting to hit your system now, surely. You're giddy and your veins are buzzing, your head is as light as air. You certainly aren't drunk — you haven't had anywhere near enough drinks for that. But you're tipsy enough to start feeling the effects. You normally don't laugh so hard at something so stupid. 

After clearing your throat, you regain your composure. "The way you were looking at me was really funny. Like you were trying to figure out where they are." 

"Will you tell me where they are, then?" Aki asks bluntly while he reaches over to set his empty drink next to yours on the nightstand. 

You press a finger to your chin. "Mmmm. How about this, I'll let you guess." 

You weren't sure if he would agree to your game, but to your satisfaction, you watch as Aki takes you in, his arms crossing, eyes drawing a line from the bottom of your feet up to the top of your head. His short brows scrunch up a bit, his lips purse as he thinks. 

Finally, with a straight face, he answers in complete confidence: "Your tongue." 

Nope. You smirk and stick your tongue out at him, revealing absolutely nothing but a bit of a hot-pink tinge left by the food coloring in your drink. 

"I'll give you a hint. It's lower."

"... Bellybutton?" Aki sounds a little more unsure of himself this time. 

"No. Higher." 

Aki's eyes narrow. "Higher, alright, so…" 

It's as if you're literally watching him think: he stares at where your outfit hugs your stomach, and then his gaze trails, up, up, up until his eyes are going completely wide because he's sure he figured out the answer and it's making him picture something he really doesn't think he should be picturing. 

He feels uncomfortable just sitting there staring at your chest like an idiot, so he clears his throat, he looks up to meet your eyes. He's trying to gauge whether his assumption is right or not by the expression on your face — You answer him with a satisfied, smug sort of grin. 

"Figure it out?" 

Aki doesn't reply, he can't reply. What the hell is he supposed to reply with? His mouth opens for a second like he wants to speak, but he instead opts to close it and gnaw on his bottom lip until the skin is coming off. He folds his hands delicately in his lap, he fiddles with his own thumbs awkwardly. 

"Aw, come on." You tease, playful, "Do you not believe me? Would it help if you saw them?" 

"Ah, no, no!" Aki raises his hands up defensively, his cheeks are heating into a pale shade of red. "There's no need for that, okay, I'm sorry, I believe you, so you don't..." 

"Calm down," You interrupt when he starts to trail off, huffing a half-hearted chuckle, "You're so adorable. I know you believe me, I'm just messing with you." 

Your words calm him down a bit, and Aki's body relaxes, his tense shoulders slumping, his expression softening. His voice comes out quiet and he's staring down at his hands when he says, "It… It didn't sound like you were messing around. Sorry." 

"Don't apologize when you haven't done anything wrong. You do that way too much." 

"Oh, I'm sor-" Aki cuts himself off before he does the exact thing you just told him not to do. "Right. Okay. Noted." 

You give him a couple seconds to simmer; your arms come to cross loosely around your chest, Aki sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, a rosy-pink hue still dusted across his face. 

Then, "Your ponytail is cute, too." 

"Oh, that's- You think so?" He's instantly flustered. The warmth under his cheeks reignites, his hands feel clammy; he opens and closes them on his lap while averting his eyes. "I- I didn't really… I didn't notice. Or, uh, that sounds stupid, I mean I didn't plan for it to… Well, I wasn't trying to make it…"

Suddenly, he freezes — He lets his arms go limp and he exhales a heavy, defeated breath. "I can't even speak."

"You're okay," You chuckle, "I get what you're saying. Or trying to say, I guess." 

By now, Aki's pretty much gone silent, fiddling with his fingers, crossing them over one another — but you capture his attention again when you step in close to him, leaning down until you're more level with his height. His shy gaze locks into yours, eyelids heavy, eyes hazy. 

"Hey." You're speaking quietly, your smooth tone is barely enough to make him shiver. "Is it okay if I take your hair down?" 

"If-" Aki's breath shakes, "If you want to." 

"Mmm, as much as I like the topknot I think it'll be more comfortable with it down, no?" You hum, voice saccharine sweet, smile warm and inviting; Aki is so entranced he almost doesn't notice you're already reaching up to grasp his hair tie. 

You tug on it slowly, all the way until his dark hair is free to fall loosely around his face, still kinked in the back from being held up for so long. Aki's breath hitches, his heart starts to thud harder in his chest. You slip his black hair tie around your wrist, and then you carefully brush the messier strands of hair from his eyes: the slightest touch, but it makes his whole body tingle with exhilaration. 

"Can I play with your hair?" 

Before he even gives himself the chance to think twice, Aki is nodding his head hesitantly, obediently. Like a puppy, following along to the pace you've set while he eagerly hangs onto your every word. He would love that. 

You lean in a little bit further. You lift your knee and slot it into the space between his legs, resting it on the edge of the bed to keep yourself steadier. 

Gently, your fingers begin to run through his soft hair, starting at the bottom near his neck and traveling up through his scalp, ruffling it as you go until a few strands stick up from the static. Electricity twists from Aki's head to his spine, he exhales a heavy, relaxed sort of sigh; his eyelashes flutter, his body melts. 

God, he's pretty. 

You knew he was, you've thought he looked like the prettiest man you've ever seen from the moment you met him. But when he looks like this, long hair let down to tickle the back of his neck, to fall in loose, choppy strands and to frame his handsome face oh-so perfectly — He's so damn pretty you couldn't possibly put it into words. 

Yet still, you try to, you pull away for a second to tuck some locks behind his ear and quietly whisper, "Why do you keep your hair up, Hayakawa? You're so pretty like this." 

"I…" Aki stutters a little, he looks away and takes a deep, shuddery breath in to try and maintain his cool. To pretend like your compliments aren't affecting him. He'll try and change the subject. 

"I don't want it to get in my eyes. And I always let it grow out because… sometimes I cut it off. For devil contracts." 

You're raising an eyebrow and staring at him in confusion while you separate three thick strands of hair near the front of his face. "What kind of devil would ask for something so weird? I assumed they'd only want stuff like blood and flesh, or bones, maybe. I didn't know a Hair Devil was a thing." 

"It's not like that," Aki counters, "Some devils are friendlier with humans than others, so the contracts they offer have looser terms. I have a contract with the Fox Devil. When it gets bored of what I usually give to it, I chop off some of my hair to feed it as a treat." 

The way his explanation is given with a flat tone and a totally straight face, as if everything he said was completely normal only adds more to your perplexity. You must know way less about devils than you thought. 

You cross each strand of his hair over one another, loosely but intricately. "Y'know, I've heard of many different kinds of contracts, I've seen a lot of devil hunters give up a lot of different things. But I've never heard of something like that." 

Aki shrugs. "It's unlikely. Most devils aren't so lenient. I never complain about our contract because hair is the easiest thing any of them could ask of me." 

"Yeah? What else do they ask for?" 

"It's usually the sorts of things you said. Skin, flesh, blood, body parts. Some ask for years off your life." 

You pause. "And you're okay with giving it to them?" 

Aki answers quickly and concisely: "If I want to stand any kind of a chance against them, I have to make some sacrifices." 

Sensing the strain lingering in his voice, you stay silent after that remark. 

You pull away to admire your work: a small, loose braid is arranged behind his bangs but right in front of his ear, trailing down to just above his shoulder. You hold it in your hand, and you give it one last look before gently undoing it with your finger and your thumb. 

Then, your hand trails down to hold his face, Aki shivers as you cup his jaw, brushing the pad of your thumb over his cheek. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, your fingertips trailing down, tracing his neck. Both of your palms come to rest finally in the middle of his broad shoulders. 

You look up at him, meeting his eyes, searching for confirmation. "Is it okay if I touch you here?" 

Aki offers you a shallow, nervous nod in response. 

You start by giving his shoulders a tentative squeeze, rolling the muscle between your fingers and your palm, feeling the stiff knots of tension that linger there. When Aki doesn't protest, letting out a soft grunt, his eyes closing, you start to massage him more thoroughly, more deliberately. You apply pressure to the edge of his shoulder blades, you rub firm circles into the space surrounding his spine. 

In no time, you're watching his eyes practically roll into the back of his head. He's settling back more comfortably onto the bed the longer your hands stay on him, pressing his palms flat at his sides, leaning his weight onto his arms to keep himself steady. 

"You're reeeeally tense," You coo, strands of Aki's hair tickling your knuckles as you work, "You must be so stressed, aren't you?" 

Considering how much he's already begun to relax, you weren't really expecting a reply out of him, but Aki manages to answer with a simple nod and with his voice blissed out: "Yeah, super stressed. I can't catch a break. The whole division… it's been crazy." 

It's a lot more detail than you expected him to divulge; maybe the relaxation is what coaxes him to be more talkative. 

"Do they not treat you very good over there?" You ask. 

There's a pause, as if for a few fleeting seconds, he's considering how much he should tell you, whether or not he should tell the truth about how he really feels. It'll mean speaking ill about Public Safety, something he really shouldn't do, especially to someone who works for a business so closely tied to their affairs. The commission wants companies to only hear good things, things like how strong and brave and commendable devil hunters are, how many benefits and funds Public Safety gives them. 

In the end though, another press of your fingers right up against his pressure points causes him to cave. 

"Not really," Aki shakes his head, he huffs a discontented sigh, "There's good benefits. Decent pay. Paid time off, too. But… it feels like I'm the one who gets stuck with all the difficult jobs these days." 

You crook an eyebrow, giving his muscles a particularly firm squeeze. "Oh?"

Aki's eyelids flutter, his brows furrowing, and he continues, "My boss, she stuck me with these two… idiots. Normally it doesn't matter who I work with, but they've been getting on my last nerve. So loud and… unruly. I don't have any time alone anymore."

"A bunch of trouble-makers, huh? And you've gotta be responsible for them? That's not fair."

"Uh-huh… And ever since they joined, the division's been nothing but insanity. There's so many devils- Every mission is just more complicated and more stressful than the last." 

"Awe," Your voice is soft, "Sounds like there's a lot you have to deal with, I'm sorry. Hah, so that's why Mister Kishibe said you needed to get somewhere to relax, huh?" 

Your hands travel further backward, slipping underneath his shirt, palms rubbing the middle of his back. Aki hums, he nods his head, "Yeah…" 

You give his back one more massage, his shoulders one last squeeze. You appreciate the look of total relaxation on his face: his eyes closed, lips slightly parted. Your hands move once more, this time carefully holding onto the very edge of each shoulder. 

"Can I touch your arms?" 

Aki's eyes flutter open. He meets your gaze, he's barely there, and he replies with a peaceful, hardly audible, Mhmm. 

Glancing down, you let your hands slip over his smooth sleeves, to his biceps. You give them a little bit of a squeeze — Your touch is teasing and light, enough to make him sigh, and enough to allow you to feel the firm muscle beneath. 

You stare into his eyes: his are nervous, misty. Yours are sparked with something he can't make sense of. 

"You're so strong."

"I-" Aki trails off, warmth rises in his cheeks and he tries his best to keep his eyes locked onto you. "It's- it's mostly from training. I used to work out too, but now I… I don't have time anymore." 

"Oh, really?" You rub his arms gently, in a comforting sort of motion. Up, slowly, and then down, even slower. "What kind of training? Like training to fight devils?" 

"Yes. And sword fighting. Boxing, sometimes."

"Mmm, I bet you're a really good devil hunter, huh?" 

Aki doesn't answer. He's warm all over, he feels his heart shake in his ribs. He lets your words toss around in his head, he simply watches with his lips pursed and his face flushed as you reach for the end of the sleeve on his dress shirt. 

You start with the cuff, folding it up and over itself, and then you roll his sleeve all the way up to his elbow before doing the same to the other side. Aki observes each of your movements complacently, with heavy eyelids and an expectant gaze. His breath gets stuck in his throat the moment your fingers start to caress his bare forearms. 

You trace his mismatch of scars beneath your fingertips, crosshatches of ridges carved into his skin. Some feel long, straight. Following the same direction in a way which makes them come across somewhat like claw marks. 

Some are more jagged, deeper, shallower. Larger or smaller, more prominent than the others. Clearly caused by something stronger, or something weaker. Maybe a few of them have the possibility of fading away. But most of them feel deep enough to brand him forever. 

You glance down, you hold his arms delicately in your hands, "So many scars." 

Your voice is quiet, your tone puts him at ease. And you're touching him so softly, so gently, more tender than he's ever known — Aki shudders. He shudders and shudders and shudders, his heart shakes his ribcage and his emotions constrict his lungs, tight and crushing. You're touching him softer than he thinks he deserves. 

"They're pretty." You say, utterly earnest. 

Aki sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. 

"I can keep touching you here, right? It's not uncomfortable?" 

"Yes." He answers shakily. "It's fine." 

You have another question for him: "Are these all from devils?" 

"Uh-huh," Aki's voice is low, a bit fragile, slightly trembling, "And devil contracts." 

"Contracts too, huh?" You feel the length of one of the largest marks under your thumb, and Aki flinches. "There's so many. I was trying to count them but… they keep crossing over one another. I lost track." 

Your hands glide downwards until you're reaching for his own, squeezing them tightly, turning them over and beginning to massage the muscles in his palms with your thumbs. Effortlessly, he's melting, focused fully on your touches — on your adoration. 

"How long have you been in deals with devils? Or how long have you been hunting them?" 

Aki answers with a huff of exhaustion. "My whole life." 

"That's…" Your gaze goes soft, "It must be so hard, isn't it? And something tells me you never give yourself a chance to relax, 'cause you're always so busy getting worked to the bone." 

"Mhmm." Aki nods. He feels weak. Like he could collapse, and it would be right into your arms. 

"You really go through so much." You squeeze his hands again, more deliberately this time. "Hey, is it okay if I ask you something? Something sort of personal." 

"That's fine." 

"Do you like killing devils, Hayakawa?" 

Your question takes him by surprise. Does he like killing devils? Aki isn't sure if he's ever thought about it. You're the first person who's ever asked him. 

Sure, it's true some devil hunters get a thrill out of it — Kishibe comes to mind. But not him. Killing devils is just something Aki has to do, something he needs to do. It's a necessity in this world. It's his job to do so. It's what he's chosen to do with his life, and once he made his decision, there was no turning back. 

And while it once made him proud to slay something tough, or happy to be able to save someone, or satisfied to find another chunk of the Gun Devil's flesh, it's been a long, long time since devil hunting has made him feel anything but empty. Empty and hurt when he watches another one of his colleagues die. Empty and lonesome when he spends another night alone on his balcony, wondering if he'll have the time to show up at their funeral. Anger once fueled him, but these days he isn't even given the satisfaction of feeling that much. 

He hates when he has to search another devil's dead body and blood gets caked under his fingernails, it clings to the crevices in his palms and he knows no matter what he tries the marks of red aren't going to wash out. He hates constantly having to purchase new clothes for work because his suits and his shirts are always getting irreversibly stained. Even once he's home, even after he's spent ages in the shower scrubbing himself clean of every trace of them, there's still the marks they've left, there's still the thoughts in his head that won't leave. 

He hates when he gets itchy scabs from peeling off his own skin for contracts, he hates when he has to skip meals because of urgent missions only to end up feeling sick the moment he tries to eat anything, he hates waking up in the middle of the night with his heart pounding and his body caked in sweat because of another stupid, frightening nightmare. 

He hates devils, yes. Almost everyone who's a devil hunter does. It's why they do it. But sometimes he hates this vicious, maddeningly endless cycle even more. 

So, Aki shakes his head, and he concludes, "I guess not. I don't find it enjoyable." 

You stay silent for a moment before you ask, "Then why do it?" 

"It's…" Aki hesitates, he averts his eyes, he feels you turn over his hands and brush his knuckles with your thumbs. 

He glances down, and you're examining them like they're the most interesting thing in the world, staring with half-lidded eyes at the bruises on his battered knuckles, at the faint scars on his fingers. His nails are trimmed short, they're well manicured. His fingers are long, slender. His palms are fit with rough calluses in the shape of the hilt of his sword. 

A deep sigh is expelled from his lungs, "I have to. Or, I don't have to, I'm not being forced, it's just difficult to explain. So I can't- I'm not sure if I…" 

"It's alright." You reassure him. "You don't need to tell me if you don't want to."

He knows he doesn't need to. If you were anybody else, if there wasn't something about you that makes him trust you so goddamn much he probably would have answered by now with something like, It's because it's my job, or, It's because I hate devils. He's used those same excuses countless times before. 

Aki doesn't have to open up to you, but he wants to, and more than anything he feels like he can. 

"I…" Aki starts, he swallows thickly, he wills his voice not to shake and when you wrap your fingers around his hands and squeeze, he closes his thumbs, holds you back. 

"I want to kill the Gun Devil. I'm sure that's something you've heard before. Plenty of devil hunters are after the same thing." Aki's lips purse. He shouldn't be telling you this, but, "In order to find it, the government has to track down its pieces, which involves enlisting devil hunters to kill devils who've ingested them. Then, as an individual, you need to have your record full of successful hunts on strong devils in order to qualify to fight the Gun, which means killing even more of them." 

The room is infinitely more silent. The sound of his own voice in his eardrums seems so, so much louder.  

He continues, "I know there's little chance of success. People tell me I've been wasting my time. And I know I am," His hands clench tighter, they squeeze yours harder, "I know it's all a waste, but I can't quit, there's nothing left for me if I do. I don't care what happens, I don't care if the Gun Devil kills me, I just-" 

He pauses, inhales a deep breath. Exhales a long, trembling one.

"It took everything from me. I watched it take everything from me. I have to kill it, I don't have a choice. I have to." 

You understand. There's no way you wouldn't, you understand exactly what he means, because truly, it is everything you've heard before. 

You couldn't count the number of times you've seen a devil hunter who was after the same exact mission. Since you started working here, you've met a lot of Gun Devil chasers. They come because they're lonely, because they've lost their wives or their families to tragedy, and they desperately need something to fill the void. 

Or, they visit the club because they're hunters who are so wrapped up in the pursuit of killing the thing they've driven themselves damn near insane. They work themselves nearly to death, they push everyone away in their pursuits for revenge and don't realize how badly they need the affection of another until it's far too late. Not the fake kind the club can bring them. Real, earnest affection. 

Aki is that kind of devil hunter, it seems. Not one who got into it for the thrill, or for the paycheck, or for the attention. But just someone who's hurt. Someone who's been wronged by devils, by this world, and now seeks for any way to counteract that pain, even if it means inflicting more upon himself. 

When it comes down to it, you can't help but feel for him, especially now that you've seen how kindhearted he can be, how utterly devoted he is to his job — despite the way he's treated and what he has to go through. Knowing what you know now, everything starts to make so much more sense. 

You continue to stare down at his hands silently, thinking to yourself. You brush his knuckles with your thumbs tenderly, you flip his hands over and stroke the intricate future lines on his palms. Soft indents, marks of fate. 

It takes you a couple of moments to realize he's started to shake. 

His breath comes out uneven, short. The tremors travel from his hands to his arms to his shoulders, and his body tenses up from the pressure of trying to control them. He's rooted in place with his back hunched and his head held down, messy bangs hiding the solemn expression on his face. 

Aki attempts to keep his composure, he focuses on steadying his breathing. It's difficult when his heart is working against him, when it's twisted and pulled and pinched in his chest. He exhales a nice, deep breath. In, and then out. In, out. Don't break. 

But his bottom lip won't stop quivering, and he hates it; he can't help but draw it between his teeth and bite down hard enough to hurt. His horrible brain and your tenderness, your voice and your touch and every little thing to have to do with you amounts to more than he can take, so overwhelming. 

This shouldn't happen. He utters weak little sounds that make the entirety of his frame shake with them. This is stupid, he doesn't even know why he's crying, God, he's so stupid — He's breaking down right in front of you, and he isn't strong enough to stop it. 

"Hey, wait." 

Your voice sounds muffled in his ears, as if you're speaking through layers of static. You give his hands a patient squeeze and he squeezes back hard, tightly, almost desperately. You ask, "Are you okay?" 

Aki nods his head, but it isn't very convincing; he's silent, wet droplets of tears slip from his cheeks to plop onto his arms, your hands, his knees. They soak into your skin, they leave faded marks on the fabric of his slacks. 

He tries to open his mouth and say something, anything, but his throat's gone dry, his jaw is clenched up tight. His lips can't seem to mouth the words. And he can't see a thing, his vision is blurry; colors meld together, your arms and his legs and the floor underneath him blend into one until it all becomes nothing more than a single, faded shape. Aki cries silently and weakly, sucking in sharp breaths through his teeth, gripping your hands — yours — as if they're a lifeline. 

He squeezes his eyes shut, willing his tears to stop, and like you can sense it, your hand comes to carefully cup the shape of his jaw. Your palm is warm, your touch is the gentlest thing he thinks he's ever felt. You tilt his head up, coaxing his teary gaze to meet yours. Despite how difficult it is, Aki keeps it there. There's a tender look in your eyes, in your expression, something he can't tear away from. 

He's pretty. He's so pretty, even like this. 

You wipe the tears from his stained cheeks with your thumb. Your closeness makes his breath hitch, your touch starts to settle the gnawing ache in the pit of his stomach. Whether he realizes it or not, he relaxes, he leans into your palm. With soothing words and a quiet tone, you reassure him. Just breathe, it's okay, you're alright. It's okay. 

He knows damn well this is stupid. He knows he's such a fool. He's an idiot for crying so much, for shaking and pitifully sobbing like he hasn't done since he was young, all while clutching the hands of someone he barely knows — and yet, those hands in his are the only thing keeping him from falling apart even worse than he already has. No, with every squeeze and brush of your careful fingers, the longer you spend holding his cheek, other hand still connected, you're putting him back together. 

For the life of him, Aki can't figure out why. 

If he was stronger, perhaps he'd be able to pick up the pieces himself. He wouldn't shift his burdens onto you. He'd wipe his own tears and get away with giving you some half-assed excuse to make you forget all about this, all about him. 

That would be so much better, right? It would be, because your hands don't belong in his, soft and warm and perfect in rough and cold and battle-scarred. You're wasting your time, and Aki wonders if you know that already. Is this merely an obligation, has your kindness been nothing more than a job you need to do? 

Even if it is, you should have left a long, long time ago. Yet for whatever reason, you haven't. You've stayed. And that's what confuses him more than anything. Why, why are you like this? 

Aki keeps his wavering focus on your voice and your face. He's long since forgotten what this felt like, he can't remember the last time anyone cared to comfort him, since anyone held him, whispering such sweet words for his soul to latch onto. He didn't realize until now how much this could mean, how good it could feel to be kept, to finally be known. 

It's a scary thought. It's scary to think you mean so much to him already. You're nothing more than strangers, yet the thought of you leaving, of everything ending right then and there hurts. 

He starts to breathe deeply, he listens to the echo of your words and syncs up his breathing with the pattern of your own: in and then out, rhythmic and languid. Slowly but surely, everything begins to feel alright again. You wipe the rest of his tears away, and he steadies. 

Your gentle thumb caresses his cheek one more time. "Are you alright? Can you talk to me? What's wrong?" 

Aki sniffles. He reaches up to rub his eyes with the back of his hand, at the same time half-heartedly pushing yours away. 

"Nothing," He answers, tone icy, but his voice still cracks around the edges in a way he can't manage to hide. "I'm fine."

"You weren't fine two seconds ago." 

"I'm fine now." 

You pause, your hand lingering in the space between him and yourself as you debate whether or not to reach out for him again. Your eyes flicker over his face, he continues to stare at the ground. You're sure he's going to stay silent. But that's okay. 

"I'm sorry. It hurts, doesn't it?" 

Your voice sounds so, so genuine. Aki's heart sinks down into his stomach. 

"You didn't deserve for any of that to happen to you. God, you've been through so much. All of it, I just- I couldn't even imagine." 

Aki swallows the lump in his throat, and he replies, "Don't apologize. It's okay." 

"It's not okay," You retort sharply, "It isn't okay for you to have to deal with getting treated like crap, on top of all those difficult missions, and on top of the stress from trying to hunt down that damn devil. It just isn't." 

"I'm used to it. I knew what I signed up for when I took this job." 

Your expression pinches. "Yeah, and I'm saying you deserve better. Better than whatever it is you're used to. Do you not think so?" 

"I-" 

He starts to answer, but he trails off before he can get anywhere. His eyes go wide, he glances away. 

No, no he doesn't think so, but he couldn't explain that to you, he wouldn't even know where to begin. Everything he's ever done, every sacrifice, each and every devil he's slaughtered — It's all been in service of some sort of debt he feels he needs to repay. It was him who lived, it was him who survived when the rest of his family had their lives ripped away from them. He's the one with weight to carry. He's the one who got his brother killed. 

And it's him who's watched colleague after colleague, friend after friend die right in front of his eyes, while each time he's been powerless to stop it. When those people fought so hard only to end up in their graves, never able to take another breath, who the hell is he to want something more, something easier? When he's the one who failed to keep them safe, if he stopped fighting for even a moment, how would he be able to live with himself? 

This is just the way his life is, the way it always will be. This is the only thing he's known ever since he can remember. 

And fuck, he can't say that to you. God knows he's said enough already. 

Aki purses his lips into a thin line, his eyes flash with a more than obvious spark of guilt. If his hands folded in his lap, clenched and trembling weren't enough, the look on his face surely tells you all you need to know. 

You sigh, and you let your arms fall limp at your sides. "You're so ridiculous." 

Aki stays silent for a couple of seconds like he hasn't realized, and then suddenly, his eyebrows furrow, his gaze flickers up to your own. "What?" 

"You heard me. You're being ridiculous. And totally stupid."

"What the hell do you mean?" He pouts, "How?" 

Oh, you're really gonna give it to him now. 

"You know what? Listen," You're starting, standing up straight, "You're ridiculously stubborn. And you're ridiculously altruistic. You should care more about your own well-being. What's gonna happen when you go too far? When you've sacrificed yourself and destroyed your mind and your body so much you've essentially worked yourself to death? If you spend all your time trying to protect others, you don't leave any room to protect yourself."

With every word, Aki's expression softens, softens. He bites down on his own tongue and stays quiet. 

"If you don't care about my opinion, it's fine," You continue, arms crossing over your chest, "You don't know me. You don't have to listen to anything I have to say. After tonight, you can leave and go do whatever you'd like with your life, and I won't be able to stop you. But I think you deserve better, and whether you agree or not, that's not gonna change. You shouldn't be treated so poorly, whether it's by yourself or by other people, or by this whole fucked up system. God-"

Your shoulders slump. The sigh you breathe is deep and weary.

"You deserve love, you know that?" 

Love. 

Aki's eyes are wide, his mouth parts but he can't say anything. Truthfully, he doesn't know what to make of that. All he knows is how your words get his stomach all fluttery, the way they make his chest twisted with an aching, unfamiliar heartsickness. 

"I'm-" He stutters, voice shaky, "I… I appreciate you saying all of that. Really, I do. But-" He brings his fist up, clearing his throat. "But you don't need to- Where are you going?" 

By the time he's looked up and noticed, you've already walked away. You kneel down, digging through the bar's mini fridge. Glasses clink together as you sift through its contents. Eventually, you find what you're looking for: a cold bottle of water, and you walk back over, holding it out to him. 

"Here," You give the water bottle a shake, "Your voice is hoarse. You must be thirsty, right?" 

"Uh," Aki reaches out to take the bottle from you. "I guess so." 

Now that you've mentioned it, his throat is pretty scratchy. He cracks the lid of the bottle open with a satisfying noise, and he tilts his head back to graciously glug some down. The crisp cold water nulls the fuzziness in his head, it brings relief to his throat, sore from when he was crying. Once he's done, he screws the cap back on and reaches over to set the bottle on the nightstand. 

"Better?" 

Aki nods, and he sounds much clearer when he answers, "Yes. Thanks." 

"Let's talk about something else." You start, "Tell me how you're feeling. Are you sad? Mad at me?" 

"No, of course not. I'm not mad. I'm not sad either. I'm just… normal." 

Normal, right. His heart certainly doesn't feel normal: it's pounding a mile a minute, and it has been pretty much since the moment you started talking. Or maybe it started the second he stepped into this room with you. No. His heart's been skipping from the moment he met you. 

His head is spinning in circles, spinning and spinning and making him dizzy, and he can't think straight to save his life. The ghost of your touch lingers on his skin: of your hands in his, of your palm on his cheek. You left tingles in your wake, you dictated the rhythm of his pulse without even realizing. And now that you've gone and said all of those sweet declarations — You've made it so every little thought circles right back around to you, with no means of escape. 

Love, is that what this is? He's been thinking too much already, way too much for his own good, so Aki doesn't bother to give himself the time to consider it. 

Maybe he's just drunk. He doesn't feel drunk. He's by no means a lightweight who'd go and get wasted after only a handful of drinks. But maybe the alcohol is what's making him act so weepy and starstruck and stupid. He'll place the blame on that to make himself feel better. 

He shakes his head, and he says offhandedly, mostly to himself, "I think I've had too much to drink." 

"Oh? I was going to offer to make you something else, but maybe that's not the best idea." You reply. "Are you okay? Do… Do you want to go back now?" 

"No, not yet," Aki answers quickly, "I'm fine. My head, it just- it hurts, is all. But all the noise out there, it would make it hurt even worse." 

Briefly, Aki remembers how you told him you were on your break. Your break's probably over by now. He should remind you. But he won't. 

The noise, yes, but more so, he doesn't want you to leave him just yet. Not for a little while longer. 

"Alright. We can just keep relaxing, then." 

"Is that okay with you?" Aki asks, a bit hesitant. 

"Yeah, but if we're gonna stay here-"

To his surprise, your palm comes to press onto the center of his chest, centimeters away from his pounding heart. You push slightly. "Scooch. Let me sit. My legs are tired." 

Aki eyes you with confusion. But when your hand applies a bit more force, he follows along, obediently shifting back on the bed to try and make room for you. 

Before he can move to the side to allow you to sit next to him though, you're suddenly gripping his shoulders, you're squeezing them tight and slinging your legs on either side of his. You're straddling him and climbing on top of him, you're settling your full weight on his legs and you're sitting in his lap — and just like that, Aki's completely breathless. 

You're in his lap. He's stuttering between words and gasps out of nervousness, he's leaning backwards as much as he can but at the same time, he's trying to get comfortable, letting his thighs spread on instinct to give you enough room. 

"Ah, what're you-" His cheeks burn with fiery warmth, his heart starts to pound faster, faster. He keeps his arms at his sides, his palms are getting sweaty, and he closes and opens his hands in unrest, in awkwardness, unsure where or whether he should touch you. He shouldn't, and you shouldn't be so close — Fuck, are you trying to kill him? 

"You…" Aki gulps, he struggles to keep his gaze on yours when you're staring at him so unwaveringly, "I was going to move some more so you could sit, but you didn't give me a chance to, so I… You really don't have to-" 

You're already smiling, you interrupt him with a small laugh and a playful squeeze of his shoulders. 

"It's fine. Don't overthink it, Hayakawa. Just relax." 

You hold still, allowing his heart to settle and for him to get used to your weight on top of him. You fit into his lap snugly, closely. Like you were meant to be there. Perfectly, almost; the slot of two puzzle pieces. So close he can hear your soft breathing echoing alongside the pitter-patter of his heartbeat in his ears. His thighs allow you just the right amount of space to sit comfortably. His work slacks are nice and smooth against your bare legs. 

Don't overthink it. Is that what he's been doing this whole time, overthinking? With the way his head keeps spinning and spinning, it sure seems like he's been. 

Maybe he shouldn't. He could try not to. He'd feel better if he let go, if he focused on nothing but you, if he just trusted you and simply forgot about everything else. All of his worries, all of his troubles. All the hurt he's clung onto so tight. He could, just for as long as you're here with him. 

Aki exhales a long, deep breath, he lets his hands unfurl and places them flat onto the mattress. His heart rate slows. He wants to let go, he swears he does. The problem is convincing his mind to shut up is no easy task. 

"Whatcha thinking about?" 

Aki peers up at you as your sweet voice tugs him from his thoughts. "Nothing." 

You breathe a half-sigh, half-giggle, and you wrap your arms around his neck, clasping your hands together and leaning your elbows on his shoulders. "You're always worrying about something, aren't you?" 

Aki hesitates for a single moment — your face is so close — before he interjects, "Not all the time." 

"Oh yeah? How do I get you to stop, then?" 

"I… I don't know." 

Sure, he doesn't know, but you might just have an idea. An idea to get him to forget about all those things that've been bothering him, an idea to help take some weight off of his shoulders, if only for tonight. An idea that gets your heart thumping, your nerves buzzing, and your whole body tingling with anticipation. 

You know how you can get him to relax, and if he thinks love isn't something he needs, you know how you can show him. 

You cock your head, "Listen, how about this. Don't let anything trouble you right now, okay?" 

Aki pauses. "What do you mean?" 

You lean in a bit more, just a little more, enough to let Aki smell a hint of your perfume; something akin to fresh blossoms and vanilla, completely intoxicating yet perfectly, utterly you. 

Your voice is sweet enough to make his heart flip: "I want you to try and let go of everything that's been bothering you, all those bad thoughts that won't leave your mind. I said you deserve to relax and enjoy yourself, remember? And you can't give yourself space to relax if you're always stuck in your own head, don't you think?" 

Aki swallows so hard his eardrums crackle, he's stunned. Part of him still can't believe this is happening, that you're here, tangible and right on top of him. Your eyes are locked onto his, gaze warm and earnest. His eyelids grow heavy once your delicate fingers come to hold his jaw. 

Quiet and coy, you whisper, "You're here with me, it's just us, and nothing else. It can be just us for the rest of the night, if you want it to be. We can pretend devils don't exist, alright?"

Honestly, Aki doubts himself, he isn't sure how well he'll be able to follow through. But when you're the one who's asking him, when it's for you, he wants to give it a shot. If he keeps his focus on you, on this moment, perhaps forgetting will become simpler than he imagined. 

"Alright." Aki replies, "I'll try. Thank you." 

"That's all I'm asking for." Your smile is warm. "Just try." 

He nods, and it's ridiculous, but after a few drawn-out seconds, he begins to think you're going to do something more.

Your hand on his cheek tilts his head up slightly, holding him perfectly still. Aki's expression softens. He sees your gaze flicker down to rest on his lips, he can hear the subtle echo of your breathing. You're so close, your face is mere inches away from his. The tension between you and him draws out the seconds one by one, millisecond by millisecond, breath by breath.

The funny part is he wouldn't mind it. He wouldn't try to stop you. You've really got him wrapped around your finger, and Aki knows it. He's sure he's past the point of ever hoping to learn how to say no to you. Thankfully, he doesn't think he minds much if he ends up letting you do whatever you want with him. 

If you kissed him right now, he might even find himself pulling you closer. 

But you don't; instead, your hands start to travel over his shoulders, your warm fingers slip under the collar of his shirt to toy with his bare skin in places he hasn't felt before. The anticipation could kill him, but your touches might spell his demise before then. 

You lean in close, your breath warm when it fans over the shell of his ear. "Are you comfortable?" 

His eyelashes flutter, and he merely answers, "Mhmm." 

"I can move, if you want to. If this is too much." 

"No," Aki blurts out, "Don't." 

Your fingertips graze over his pulse point before you tug them out of his collar, returning your hand to rest delicately on his jaw. Aki meets your eyes, his breathing starting to quicken; you can hear each sharp, shaky breath he takes in. Your touch is barely there, but it commands all of his attention; effortlessly tender, you make his body shiver, his skin spark with electricity. 

You examine the details of his face: deep blue eyes like the depths of the ocean, faint bags set in under them from the stress. His nose is pointed, his brows are straight and short and a bit furrowed up in nervousness. He's pretty when he blushes, his face becomes painted in shades of ruby and pink all the way to the tips of his ears. He's just as handsome as you thought he was from the moment you saw him, even more when he's flustered, even more when it's all because of you. 

"You're-" 

Before he can finish the rest of what he was about to say, Aki suddenly stops, he shakes his head. He mutters, "Sorry, nevermind." 

"No, what is it?" 

Gnawing a little on his bottom lip, he anxiously taps his fingers against the surface of the bed. "I don't know. I forgot." 

"Come onnnnn," You tease, and you playfully pinch his cheek; Aki grumbles, but you just make his face glow even redder than before. 

"You're a horrible liar. You know what it is, so just tell me." 

"I was going to say-" Aki trails off. Loudly, he sighs. His tone of voice is nonchalant, like it's no big deal, but the way he shyly averts his eyes away from you says otherwise. "I think you're really beautiful."

His words catch you a bit off guard — pleasantly, though. They get you smiling, your cheeks warm and your heart fluttering. "Thank you. For the record, I think you're beautiful too." 

"Am I?" 

Aki's eyes go glossy. He asks you that question like he's wanting you to say more, like he's begging for you to keep fawning over him because he can't get enough of it, of the way it feels to be adored. 

"Uh-huh. You're so pretty, Hayakawa. I think you're gorgeous-" You brush your fingers down his jaw, your palm presses firm to his chest. It rises, falls, his heart beats beneath his shirt to a rapid rhythm, thumping, thumping. "Inside and out."

You think he's pretty. Aki's so dizzy he can't even think, it's like he's floating, as if he's high. Water beads at his lashes, he blinks the tears away. He lets his gaze flicker from your face, to where you're settled on top of his lap, to something in the distance. 

His mind is moving a mile a minute, but no matter what, all those thoughts keep leading back to the same thing. He can't stop thinking about what you had said to him earlier. 

Love has never been in the cards for him. Maybe it was something he understood once, but ever since he can remember, it hasn't been something he's had. He's never been adored. Never been put first. His parents loved him, but they spent all their time fussing over his brother. And then, they were gone. 

It isn't something he's daydreamed of, isn't something he's at all desired. In this life, love isn't even anywhere close to a possibility. His existence revolves around his pursuits as a devil hunter, and nothing else. He can't have room for anything else. There's no-one. There's always been no-one. 

Until now. 

You make his heart into something it isn't used to, your touches give him a feeling so simple yet unlike anything he's ever understood: the beat of wings manifested between his ribcage. He's never been one to want, but he wants you, he wants whatever else you're willing to give to him, be it love, or something more. He wants to see what it is you think he deserves, because then, he might be able to understand. 

"You look so nervous, pretty boy." 

Your tone is teasing, it's tugging and pleading for him to let you in. Your finger comes to rest under his chin, and you tilt it up towards you carefully — just slightly, but enough to call his attention back to you. 

"I thought I told you to relax." 

"Easier said than done." Aki replies quickly, a little breathless. 

You don't get how damn near impossible it is to stay calm when you're so sickeningly sweet. When you're pressed up this close to him, right in his lap. 

"Then let me help you." 

You brush some hair from his eyes, tuck it neatly behind his ears. You reach for him again, and this time, you're gently grasping his chin between your thumb and forefinger, you're keeping his head tilted up and his gaze locked on you. 

"You don't- there's no need for that, you don't have to." Aki mumbles, he's frozen, and his lips quiver when your thumb brushes over them. "You've done enough for me already." 

"But I want to. It isn't because I have to, I want to do this for you, Aki. Please." 

Your sudden use of his first name causes his eyes to widen and his thudding heart to skip a beat. He knew he'd like the way you said his name, when you said his last he couldn't help but imagine how your voice would strum the syllables of his first. But now that he's heard it, the way his name sounds when you're the one to say it is perfect. 

"Really?" 

A small part of him is still doubting this. His worry-filled brain can't help but think the only reason you're still here is because this is your job, and he's nothing more than a patron. Perhaps he's too trusting, but if you're sitting here and you're telling him this is what you want, then —

"Yes, of course. Of course Aki, fuck, I wouldn't be here if I didn't want this with you." The meaning of this is left ambiguous, but you're still talking, and neither of you have a chance to ponder the implication. 

"You can trust me," You're continuing, "Let me take care of you. I can help you relax, for once. I'll give you something else to think about. Something better." 

Aki pauses. His breath is warm on the pad of your thumb, his voice is a challenge at barely more than a whisper: "And how are you going to do that?" 

You know how, and it's something you've wanted to do for way, way too long. 

You keep a firm grip on his chin, holding him still. Aki's Adam's apple bobs in his throat when he swallows thickly, his throat dry from the nervousness. His shoulders stiffen, his breath hitches and shakes as you start to slowly lean in, your head tilting, your hand working behind him to gently hold the back of his neck with each centimeter of distance you close. 

When your lips brush over his — close enough to feel yours are plush, and his are chapped, but not quite enough to connect — Aki is letting his eyes shut. His breath is hot, it's quick. He focuses on the fluttery beat of his heart in his ears to keep the anticipation from eating him alive. Pounding fast, hard, and then slower, slower. 

And once your lips press fully onto his own, he feels it start to soar. 

His chest fills with an enveloping, tingling warmth, his cheeks and the tips of his ears burn red hot. After so long of feeling nothing he finally knows what it's like to feel everything — His breath nearly stops as you kiss him softly; tender enough to cause the entire room to whirl around him, hard enough to make the whole rest of the world fade away, as though it doesn't even exist. 

There's just you, and just him, at the center of it all. 

Still, it's a hesitant, chaste sort of kiss, Aki melts into your touch and allows you to do as you please, and you let the kiss last for only a second or two. You pull back slowly, reluctant to drag your lips away from his, you let his breath mix with yours for longer than you should. Finally, you draw all the way backward, and Aki's eyes flutter open to see you're already staring at him. 

You kissed him. You kissed him, and the only thing running through Aki's mind is how much his heart — in the expanse of his chest, warm and all-encompassing, flooding his body with this prickly sense of longing — All he can think of is how badly he needs you to kiss him again. 

"Aki-" You swallow, you say his name with an air of caution; perhaps you can't believe what you've just done, either. But you won't stop. Your face is still close to his, and your voice is kept quiet, "How was that? Another?" 

Aki nearly stutters. "Yes." His low voice mimics the volume of yours, "Please." 

You haven't forgotten the promise you made to yourself, when you swore you'd give him everything he wants from you. And when he asks you so nicely for more, you aren't about to forget. 

A telling smile tugs at the corners of your cheeks. Of course. 

You lean in once more, eyes closing, head tilting. His shoulders go slack the instant you've kissed him. Your lips connect with his a little easier than before, it's more familiar this time, but your kiss is a bit deeper, a bit harder. 

The way he kisses you back is hesitant. Desperate but nervous all at once, like he doesn't want you to stop, like he's needed this. His lips quiver and his jaw locks up, his movements are unsure and clumsy; your lips don't quite meet with his when he leans in to kiss you again, his nose awkwardly bumps against yours. Aki kisses like he's never kissed anyone before — but honestly, with the way he's closed himself off, that might be true. 

You kiss his lips again, again, you've been meaning to pull yourself away ages ago, you tell yourself just one more, but Aki leans in for another, and you can't resist. Each one is slow and tender, you only stop when you need an opportunity to breathe — and even then, you barely pull away from him, your lips still brush over his as you gasp for air and your warm breath melds with his own until the space between you is hot and humid. Aki's arms are shaking, he keeps his eyes screwed shut tight. 

You reach up, and you carefully brush strands of hair away from his face to tuck behind his ears. You press a long, deep kiss to his mouth, you run your fingers up through his soft hair 'til it's ruffled and messy and his whole scalp is pleasantly tingling. His body relaxes, he's compliant, and he's starting to get the hang of this; he breathes a trembling sigh, his hands tightly clenching the sheets of the bed. He groans quietly, voice muffled by your lips on his.

God, he feels amazing. Nothing matters to him anymore besides your soft lips against his own. Each kiss melts him more than the last, all the way until he's putty in your hands, leaning into your touch as you hold his jaw and draw him in for more. Your other hand slips over his back, it runs along the length of his spine and coaxes him impossibly closer. 

The pitter-pattery lilt in his heart refuses to quit. He kisses you eagerly, he utters soft, hushed gasps. Your body rocks into his in a desperate attempt to get closer, and Aki sighs in a mix of surprise and contentment, but he's letting it happen. In fact, he's encouraging you, he's following along to each of your movements, leaning into you once you start to press forwards. 

Your lips are perfect, he's addicted — It's like he was made to kiss you. Made to meet you and destined to have you kiss all of his bitterness away, just like this. 

He wouldn't mind if this singular moment lasted the rest of his life. 

He's disappointed but doesn't protest when you abruptly decide to pull away, far back enough to meet his hazy eyes, and for long enough to allow him to catch most of his breath. His cheeks are burning red, his lips are puffy, pink and kiss-swollen. You're sure you aren't fairing much better; an unmistakable heat blemishes your face, it swells from under your skin and travels all the way down your shoulders and your chest. 

You breathe in deep, and you try to calm your racing heart before you speak. 

"You're doing good. Are you alright?"

"Yeah."

"I'm going to kiss you again," You're already leaning in but that's fine, he wasn't planning on stopping you in the first place, "Relax more this time, okay? Don't tense up. Just trust me." 

Aki nods his head nervously, unsure but willing, and you place your hand on his cheek before tilting your head and diving in again; this time, your kiss is much deeper, it catches him off guard, and he instinctively tenses despite what you told him. You run your fingers through his hair until he's slack, you guide his lips to part when yours do — And when your tongue slips into his mouth, he starts to feel like he's high. 

You taste exhilarating, sweet and sugar-ridden and like everything he's ever wanted. His arms continue to tremble, every limb freezes up and a budding ache blooms wild in his core. He's weightless, taken under frothy ocean waves, he tries his hardest to kiss you back but it's so much, his heart hammers in his chest: the bang and reverberation of steady gunfire. 

You suck on his tongue gently, teasingly, and he tastes like honeyed liquor and his rich cigarettes — The same kind of cigarettes you always used to smoke. The sensation is dizzyingly familiar, so delicious it gives you a rush to the head, it makes the whole world tilt on its axis. 

And it's there, with your lips pressed deft to his, that you realize perhaps you needed this just as much as he did. This softness, this closeness, this genuine adoration. You can't remember the last time you kissed someone like this, when the collision of lips and tongues came so easily, so safely, so naturally. 

Aki makes everything easy, he's easy to kiss, easy to trust. Easy to love. Easy to want so, so much more from. 

Your kisses get heavy and hot, messes of spit between twofold staggered gasps for breath. You're tired of him keeping his hands at his sides, you want him to touch you — So, as Aki mutters another pretty whimper into your mouth, tilting his head opposite to yours so he can kiss you even deeper, you're reaching down and grabbing his wrists. 

You tug them to your waist, you coax his hands to hold you and squeeze tightly. He's trembling a little; his touch is more hesitant than forceful, but he follows your direction and grips you firm. He rubs circles into your skin with his thumbs, his palms radiate warmth. Your kisses lead you to press closer, your teeth bite gently on his bottom lip and he drags you in by your waist, enough to make your hips to rock rhythmically against his lap. Aki gasps, you pull away from him and he's panting hard. 

His eyelids flutter open and he immediately meets your gaze, his pupils blown out wide and dark. In a weak voice, Aki starts, "I-I'm sorry, I'm not-" 

But you shut him up with a quick kiss to his lips, he's stuttering again as you plant another to the corner of his mouth, then to his warm cheek, to the edge of his jaw. He lets out a heavy sigh as you place the softest kiss over the shell of his ear, his skin tingly when your hot breath tickles it. 

"I'm not…" Aki gulps, still trying to talk despite his struggle. It grows more difficult when you're biting at his earlobe, his metal earring sturdy under your teeth, your lips delicate on his ear, "... I'm not good at this." 

You huff a low laugh so close he can feel the echo. His whole body shivers, then promptly relaxes. 

"It's okay," You coo, voice muffled, barely there. You're beginning to trail sloppy kisses down his neck, and he whimpers; each word is sending vibrations over where he's most sensitive, "You're doing soooooo good. You're a great kisser, Aki."  

The thick, dreamy fog in his brain almost causes your words not to register. But when they do click, Aki's blushing a little harder, his mind is a blur, he's so caught up he fails to notice your hands reaching for the buttons on his shirt. 

"I… I am?" 

You mutter teasing mhmm's into his nape, you work the soft flesh of his neck between your teeth and suck hard. Your lips feel out the telling thrum of his pulse, kissing until it starts to pound faster. Your mouth is warm, tongue wet; you taste the prickle of salt on his skin like you could never hope to get enough. 

Nipping at the side of his neck, you fumble to undo each button on his dress shirt, popping them free through messy kisses and bites. It's difficult to undo them blind, and so you struggle for a while, focus split between sucking a deep-set bruise into his skin and hastily getting him undressed. 

And Aki knows what you're doing — He should probably stop you, push you away, anything, but he doesn't have it in himself to. This is indecent, he's letting you strip him. You've worked all of the buttons on his shirt down, and you press your warm palms to his bare chest, you drag them down and caress the mismatched ridges of scars. You feel out the subtle shapes of muscle, glide your hands over his smooth stomach and press your thumbs to where his hip bones start to jut out and define the rest of his figure. 

If he was thinking clearer, or if he hadn't already agreed to take your advice, he might have put a stop to this by now. Instead, all he can do is utter faint gasps and moans, he grips your waist tighter and he tilts his head back to give you better access. Your kisses and licks and bites right on his most tender spot feel like the sweetest thing he's ever had the privilege to experience, like heaven. 

He doesn't need to look to know for certain he's going to have a huge mark on his neck, right where everyone can see. He can try to cover it up with his collar, maybe. Skip work and say he's feeling sick to avoid the shame he'd get from all the stares. He'll figure it out later. It's truly unlike him, but in this present moment, he can't bring himself to care. 

As you finally break away from him, planting one last kiss, you admire the mark you've left on his skin: tender and bruised in shades of purple and red, planted on the side of his neck, right above his shirt collar. You trail your hand up to the center of his chest, you measure each pound of his heart; it thrums to an eager, rapid rhythm under your palm. 

Aki's gaze flickers over your face, expectant. You lean in some, your voice quiet: "Your heart is beating so fast." 

Against his complexion, the mark you've given him stands out like a sore thumb, surely easy enough for anyone to notice even with his hair down. Warm red and purple and blue blossom freely on the side of his neck. He's so pretty, the bruise is so pretty you can't help but dream of giving him more. Enough to cover the whole expanse of his pretty fair skin, enough to last, enough to make him never forget you. And as you reach up and brush your thumb over the blemish, delighting in the way Aki shivers under your touch, his eyelids heavy, breath loud and eager, you can't help but wonder what people will think, what they'll end up saying to him. 

If his colleagues at work will pester him about it, if the people on the train will stare when he stands next to them for too long. You wonder even more if when they ask, he would end up telling them the truth. 

"Are you nervous?" 

He gulps, he forces himself to meet your eyes and hold his gaze there. 

"A little," Aki confesses breathlessly. His neck feels bare without your lips pressed to it. "Sorry." 

"Should I move?" 

"No, you-" His nervousness is evident even without his answer, he takes a deep breath in and attempts to grasp at the composure he'd been clinging to earlier. He swallows and forces his shaky voice to continue. 

"We shouldn't be doing this," He says, his face is flushed crimson, his lips are puffy, he doesn't sound very convincing. "You know that, right?" 

"Oh, yeah?" You snicker in response, "Why?" 

Aki keeps nervously stammering on: "This is- I mean, it's- I know we won't get in trouble, but if you keep going, if we're not able to stop, then you'll… it'll- we'll end up-"

He abruptly freezes, trailing off before he can say anything more. Before he can answer the what ifs you've had spinning around in your brain since all of this began. 

Right. You didn't expect him to be the one to say it, nor did you think he was even considering something like that, but he's right. 

If this goes on, you'll end up doing something you shouldn't. You'll find yourselves in a tangled mess on the bed, you won't be able to go back once you've taken things too far, you'll strip him of the rest of his clothes and feel his large hands press deft to your bare skin, and once you've reached that point — 

"I know." You purposefully interrupt your own train of thought, "And I don't want to stop."

Gaze steady on yours, you wonder how he hasn't managed to look away. "Really? You're sure?" 

"Yeah." 

"Even if… even if we-" 

"I'm positive." You interrupt. "Why? Did you want us to stop?" 

Aki's chest rises up, and then down. "I didn't say that." 

"What do you want, then?" Your fingers travel up from his neck to ghost over his jaw, his bangs form a mess around his face and you carefully push them aside while Aki takes a nice, deep breath. "Doesn't matter if you shouldn't. Tell me what you want." 

What does he want? He already knows, and he's such a hypocrite, such a total idiot. Truth is, he hasn't cared about what you should or shouldn't be doing for a long time now. 

There's one last chance to put a stop to this, and you've left the choice up to him. 

"I want you to kiss me." 

You smile. Falling further and further has been your fate from the very start. And now, he's sealed himself the same outcome as your own. 

"Where?" 

You lean down until your lips are brushing over his neck like butterfly wings, until he's letting his eyes flutter shut and allowing your sweet voice to consume what's left of him: "Do you want me to kiss you right here?" 

"Yeah," Aki answers, his breath is hard and sharp when it's pushed from his lungs, "Yes, please." 

So you do just that; you press a set of delicate kisses to his neck, he gasps, you place your hand under his chin to tilt his head up. You plant a messy kiss right under his jaw, then one onto his Adam's apple — Aki swallows, it bobs up and down in his throat, your lips are liquid fire — and finally, you press one over the pretty mark you've already left. 

You peer up at him through your eyelashes, you gauge his reaction, and he gestures down to his neck with his eyes, where your lips sit inches away; he's still breathless, still nervous, but he sounds sure of himself when he asks, "Give me another one?" 

"Another one of these?" You tap your finger against his neck, over his purpling bruise, skin tender to the touch. 

Aki nods. "Please." 

You're obliging before he can say another word. You dip your head down, you kiss onto another soft spot on his nape. Aki screws his eyes shut tight, and then, you work the flesh between your teeth, same as you did before. You suck gently, you hum into his skin when his hands grip your waist for reprieve. You kiss the newly formed bruise, watch it take: a mess of red and purple seeping deeper in. The warmth of your breath briefly disappears as you move your head over to the other side. 

Aki tilts along with you. Delicate fingers push his hair out of the way, plush lips pepper his neck with kisses, he sighs in pleasure, reaching a hand up at the same time. He shakily presses his palm to the back of your head, and you work to give him another. Your tongue wet on his skin, you suck more harshly, hard enough to make him whine. You only pull away once you're sure this newest mark will set. 

Drawing back, you lock eyes with him. You grab his chin, drag his head up, his gaze goes soft, heavy and obedient. He looks perfect, gorgeous when he's like this, pupils blown out, the fair skin on his pretty neck covered in your bruises and your love bites. 

They're signs you were there. Pretty little mementos for him to admire in the mirror the next morning until they jog the memory of what you've done, of your plush lips and warm mouth on his neck. He'll tingle at the thought, he'll press his fingertips to each one and will himself to go back to the night you left them. 

"Tsk," You scoff playfully, grinning, "You won't be able to go back to work like this." 

The bridge of Aki's nose crinkles when his eyebrows start to furrow, "I can." 

"People are gonna stare at you." 

"I don't care." He snaps the words a bit too sharply than he realizes, but it's out of desperation, out of impatience, "Just kiss me again." 

Finally. You're taken aback, but only briefly, in a good sort of way. This is what you wanted. At last, he's honest, he's desperate and he's no longer afraid to get what he wants — or really, what he's wanted all along. Finally, he's acting a little more selfishly. 

Without giving him a chance to regret it, you lean again, giving him just what he needs from you. 

Your lips connect with his, Aki grips your waist and in turn, you fist his shirt collar, tugging him in as close as you can get him. This kiss is messier than the others. It's needier, it's you melting into him when one of his hands slides up to hold the small of your back, his touch gentle, like he could never hurt you. He wouldn't, you know he wouldn't. And it's Aki dragging you in, tugging you closer on his lap, his head cloudy and fuzzy and only focused on the ever-so perfect press of your tongue to his own. 

With each and every kiss, you're taking all the breath from his lungs — You adjust, your hips rock into him just as they did the first time he pulled you closer, and he nearly gasps, his whole body flares with tingling warmth. He wants you even closer, but your tongue in his mouth, his puffy lips messy and wet with your saliva is too much to handle. Aki kisses you back as best he can manage, he licks into your mouth nice and slow while your fingers tangle in his hair: tugging, pulling, gripping. 

Amidst your kisses, somehow, you manage to find a window to murmur, "Do you like kissing me?" 

You don't get to say anything more, though, because Aki is quick to close that shred of distance between you; he kisses you deeply again, he holds the back of your neck, and into your mouth, he mumbles a muffled, sweet-sounding mhmm. 

Truthfully, he does, he loves this. His heart thumps, his eyelids are too heavy to open, drool drips messily from the corner of his mouth. 

He's forgotten almost everything, everything but you; you're the perfect vice, just as addicting as his cigarettes, but you're so much sweeter — He can't stop. When you're kissing him like this, pressed up close to him and making everything dizzy and light and feel so good, how is he supposed to stop you? He can't, and more than anything, he wants to drown in more of your touch, in your lips, in all you have to give him. 

Your fingers tug gently on his hair, you moan softly, your body presses into him once more, your hips grind down on his. But this time, it's different. It's much more deliberate. 

You're testing the waters, getting restless. And he freezes up from the tension; when you pull away from his mouth, his eyes are glazed over, his pupils are blown out wide. You're both breathing hard and heavy, you mutter something and with the way his head is spinning and his ears are ringing, he can't tell if it's a sigh of pleasure or a whine of his name. 

Then, your hips roll down on him again, hard, right into his lap, and Aki's eyelashes are fluttering, he's hissing and biting down on his bottom lip, his hands clenching at your sides. His pulse is thrumming, it's insistent and warm on his neck and between his legs, only getting warmer the closer you press.  

Your heart is starting to race. Your nerves hum with a new kind of need, an exciting sort of need. You know what you're doing. You'd be a fool not to know. Aki runs his palm along your spine, trailing up, his touch gentle, and your whole body grows impossibly hot. Your head is still reeling from his kisses, you'll blame your impulsiveness on that. 

Your lips long to be on his again — and you almost kiss him, you're about to kiss him even harder until he can't even breathe, but you stop as Aki's eyes scan your face, as he opens his mouth and tries to say something but can't. When you get impatient, gripping his shoulders and rolling down on him again, all he can do is gasp. 

"Aki…" You murmur his name, leaning in close to his ear. And it's clearer this time, even sweeter than all the times he's heard it before. 

"F-Fuck, stop for a second." 

He sighs out the words, he squeezes your waist tightly as a signal to hold still, and you freeze in your tracks. 

"Are you okay?" 

"I'm fine," Aki answers quickly, voice shaky. He looks at you through half-closed eyelids, his face is flushed crimson and his collar's askew. His unbuttoned shirt is starting to carelessly fall from his shoulders, slipping down to expose his collarbones and most of his chest. As if on queue, he reaches for it, tugging the sleeves back in place, attempting to clumsily do up the buttons one-handed. He swallows the dryness in his throat and tries to make himself look presentable. Like it even matters. 

"Fine, just-" Aki lets go once you help him, tossing his head back. You reach forward, you finish the rest of the buttons for him before adjusting the folds of his shirt collar until they're straight. "Just needed to catch my breath." 

"I'll get off of you, if that's what you want." Your thumbs rub along the smooth fabric of his collar. "If it's too much." 

"No," He's still a bit breathless, but now, he sounds much more resolute. Little by little, he regains his bearings. He tilts his head all the way backward and looks up towards the pale ceiling to avoid meeting your gaze. He spreads his legs and gets more comfortable, sighs at the extra friction from you adjusting on his lap. He takes a couple more deep breaths and waits for his pounding head and heart to return to normal. 

He looks towards you again. Behind his eyes, he sparks with something dark. Something serious and something foreign — It's a look you've never seen from him before. A look filled with something desperate and incomprehensible, washed over with lust and love and whatever lies in between. 

"Don't." Aki heaves a deep, steady sigh. "I don't want you to." 

His breathing is slow, it's controlled, it contrasts with his heavy gaze and flushed out face. You let your arms wrap around his shoulders and he tries his hardest to stay calm. 

"You sure?" 

"I'm sure," Aki stares into your eyes and imagines them swallowing him whole. "I promise, I'm sure." 

The truth is, he's still nervous, he's fucking terrified, but if there's one thing he's grown tired of, it's hesitating when his heart knows he doesn't want to. From now on, he can't, he won't. No more hesitation. 

"You can do anything you want, I trust you. I swear." 

You smirk. "Anything?" 

You're leaning in, you grasp his lobe and fiddle with the pointy back of his earring. You tilt your head and breathe warm wisps of air onto the shell of his ear, so close he's shuddering, his eyes screwing shut in anticipation. Aki's heart pounds, pounds, pounds. 

And with a trembling sigh, he confirms it: "Anything." 

"So this is alright, isn't it?"

You rock into him again, and he gasps, he takes in a long, unsteady breath. Aki shivers, he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down. Your question doesn't get answered at first, but his hold on your waist is a subtle form of encouragement, he drags you forwards in tune with the deep roll of your hips until you're pressing into him even harder and even closer than before. Right up against his lap, your arms around him and your chest on his. 

"Yes," Aki finally manages; he can hardly speak, he's losing his fucking mind and you've barely even begun. Your palms glide down, fingers nudging past his sleeves, gently caressing his hands and the veins on his wrists. Your hands fold over his knuckles, you squeeze and guide him to hold you tighter. You nip at his nape and he's screwed, he's so fucking screwed. "Keep going, don't stop…" 

His hands shake, arms tremble, you press your lips to his neck and leave wet, messy kisses onto every sensitive spot you managed to discover before. Everything's happening at once, Aki clumsily tugs you closer, still. His fingers flex like he's not sure whether he should keep holding on. In the end, when your lips kiss his cheek and you cradle his face in both palms, he opts to tear his hands away from you and place them flat at his sides to give himself more leverage. 

His head twirls in dizzying circles. His body betrays whatever wishes for composure he was still clinging onto. It takes you another deep grind into his lap to register what's happening; beneath you, he's getting hot, getting stiff. 

You can feel him, firm and thick in his slacks, warm when you roll down on him again; you've hardly done anything, and he's this hard already, from just some kissing and a little bit of friction. You've ignored it up 'til now, but truthfully, you've noticed for a lot longer than you were letting on. Aki's been hard ever since you first kissed him. 

You don't blame him, really. He can't help himself, it's cute that he can't help himself. You pull him close and kiss his lips, he can't help if he gets hard just from a kiss, your body presses closer and shoves up against his — your sex against his stiffening cock — and Aki can't help when he sighs into your mouth. You pull back and keep kissing his neck, he groans, his throat vibrates under your lips with the noise and his Adam's apple bobs from the weight of it. 

He's doomed. When it comes to you, he can't help himself, and that's the problem. You're rocking into him and even though he should say the opposite, all he can manage to mutter is, Keep going, keep going. Don't stop. 

You place a delicate kiss onto his ear, you coo something sweet into it that his tangled mind can barely make out — You sound so pretty, so perfect when you beg — and it's all over. 

This isn't like him, he isn't the kind of man who'd do something like this. He should have more self-control. He thought he did. And yet here he is, bucking his hips up into your own as you grind down on him, whining so loud it's embarrassing, his pretty noises turning into even softer grunts as your fingers knot in his hair. You grip close to his scalp, his messy bangs tickle his lashes. 

He shouldn't be so needy. Or perhaps it'd be more accurate to say he didn't know he had it in him to be so needy. He wants you so badly he's gone lightheaded, he can't fathom anything but this; nothing else but the way your body clicks into place with his, close, close, right up against him. Enough to tease, enough to make him want you harder, faster, not enough to satiate his appetite. 

Though he doesn't dare to take anything further than the pace you've set. You grip his waist with one hand to keep both of you steady, right between the end of his ribs and the beginning of his hips. Lips parted, gaze misty, Aki lets you take whatever you want, like it's all that matters. 

And you will, because as much as you want to deny it, you certainly aren't faring much better; there's an ache set deep in your core, you're so desperate for him, to feel him. To have him closer, anywhere, anything, just more. Body to body, yours to his — Aki makes you want him without even trying, more than you think you've wanted anything else before. 

The room is quiet, way too quiet. You want to say something to break this silence, you know he won't, but the way you're feeling consumes every thought before it can form. The shifting of the mattress, the rustle of clothing, and Aki's gasps, his fragile whines are the only thing to fill your ears. You rock into him deep enough and slow enough and close enough to make him sob, and he bites down on his bottom lip, shutting his eyes tight, trying to stifle his noise. 

He doubts anyone would walk down the hallway and come close enough to this room to hear him or you. But the thought alone, the suspense of someone hearing how humiliating he sounds, of getting caught: it's enough to get him to shut himself up. 

"Aki," Finally, you muster something, gasping the words between another firm grind into his groin, "Talk to me." 

Despite his best efforts, he's struggling, and you've noticed. He finds it hard to stop himself from whining each time you grip him tight and grind down, even when he's trying to keep his mouth shut, even once he's covered it with his own palm, thinking that would make a difference. 

"Aaaaaaaki." 

"Shut up…" 

Every slight spur presses his lap further into you, making his eyelids flutter and his breath hitch. Don't, you can't say his name that way, not like that, not so sweet. 

Leaning in, you kiss his cheek, so soft his head goes hazy, you free your hand from his waist to push his bangs out of the way and kiss his forehead. You grip his wrist and gently, you drag it away from his mouth, he responds with an instant sharp intake of breath. You're straightening his hand and lining up his fingertips with yours, and he does you a favor before you make him wait any longer, intertwining his fingers with yours, gripping tight. He missed this. 

"C'mon, don't be mean," You whisper in his ear, you nibble on his lobe, speak through the rolls of your hips into him, "I wanna hear your voice. Please?" 

"Sorry," Aki snaps in response, you grip his hand nice and tight, use your free one to hold his face and brush your thumb over his lips. They're quivering, his pupils are wide. He tries. His words have zero bite (they never did to begin with, not from the start) and begin to sound more like pleas, less like demands. 

"I-I can't, I can't take it, you can't stop." Aki stammers. You nearly take your hand away from his to grip his shoulder, but Aki holds it tight, squeezing, fingers shaking, "Don't, please, ah- shit…" 

You can't fault him for trying, for listening, but his voice is fragile, it comes out in broken words and half-started sentences. You rock hard into him once more, you kiss his ear and start up a steady rhythm with your hips. His mouth falls open when he whines, his thighs wobble, his cock is aching from where it strains his slacks. Aching to be touched, and when it's pulsing between his legs so much it practically has a heartbeat of its own, he can't fucking think straight. 

He certainly isn't thinking when your thumb presses to his lips, caressing them before somehow slipping past. Any aspect of reason doesn't exist when you're shoving your thumb into his mouth, onto his tongue — and to your surprise, Aki lets his tongue swirl around it, he takes in sharp breaths to the tune you've set by grinding against him. He chokes on a quiet, sweet, dirty sort of gag as you shove the digit in further. 

It's filthy, he's filthy. His eyelids grow heavy, his lips close, and he sucks on your thumb gently, obediently. You grip his chin, you press it in even more, tears prick at his lashes and Aki's body lurches. His hips buck up into you along with the movement and he's gasping, nearly coughing when you abruptly pull your thumb out. You let it linger on his lips, smearing wet streaks of saliva all over them. 

He's panting now, hot and quickened breaths; he lifts his pelvis and fucks himself back into you on instinct, without even thinking, sighing and closing his eyes as he does. You adjust, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, your movements reach a fever pitch and with a dull thud and squeak from the mattress, you end up pushing him over. 

Pushing him all the way until he flops onto the bed, on his back, with you right on top of him, pinning him into place. Body pressed to his own, face inches away from his. Aki huffs in surprise, but you capture his lips with yours before he can do anything more. 

He swears you taste even sweeter this time. Honey and sugar, rich and enveloping but sparked with something ever-so exciting. Both of your hands cup his cheeks, and his arms fall upturned above him, he tilts his head opposite yours and kisses you tenderly, slowly — juxtaposed with how urgently he knows he needs you. His thighs shift and squirm as he parts them, trying to get comfortable and give you a better angle. Better access to the incessant throb between his legs. 

Your plush lips on his, your tongue exploring his mouth, your kisses and your cunt rubbing right up against his cock — and it's still not enough. Not enough friction or warmth or touch, too many layers of fabric, too much space between your body and his own. He can't, Aki's starting to sweat. So needy and disgustingly desperate, he wants to slap himself until he gets a grip, wants to have you shake his shoulders until he's come to his senses. 

He's hard and only getting harder, you grind deeper, and he really can't control himself, can't get a grip when he's already slick with arousal in his briefs and struggling to not finish right then and there. 

If he isn't careful, he'll cum just like this. That'd be pathetic. Such a loser, hooking up with you in the back of a strip club and cumming in his pants before you've even really done anything. 

He wishes that thought bothered him more than it did. He doesn't feel ashamed. He wishes it didn't make his stomach bloom with warmth and his head go all fuzzy as he imagines how you'd react, how you'd tease him in that sickeningly sweet voice of yours for getting so worked up and promise to make him feel even better. Awe, Aki, you're so cute. You want me to take care of you? 

God, he's worse than all the other devil hunters who come here, all his coworkers and even his sorry excuse for a mentor. What the hell has gotten into him? 

He has no idea, because the second you've pulled away from his lips, you give him no time to compose himself before you're breathlessly asking, "Does it feel good?" 

"H-hah-" Aki gasps, he's slurring; you're a pretty sight above him, and he struggles to speak at first, he's bright red all the way to the tips of his ears, "Yeah, s'good- Don't stop, please don't stop, you can't, you can't..." 

Of course it feels good, of fucking course it does. He's so worked up, and for the life of him he can't think of the last time he's been this way. Maybe never. Surely he's never felt this good all by himself before. 

Hell, he's been so numb, so busy and so isolated, he's finding he can't even remember the last time he's gotten hard in the first place. He's so stiff, aching so much it practically hurts, he hasn't felt this way in so long — Yeah, never. 

You must have noticed. You think he's easy, probably. He wouldn't really have a problem with that. But you're playing dumb, you've got to know how good he's feeling because you're the one who's doing this to him, and it isn't by accident. 

You're grinding up and down on where his cock sits heavy in his slacks and you can definitely feel him, definitely know he's —

"So hard." Your voice rings out close to his ear as you grind down on him once again, to the same sort of rhythm, and the fabric of his pants rubs right into the needy, wet tip of his cock, "It must feel amazing." 

Aki can't hold back a stuttery moan in pleasure. His hair is fanned out over the sheets in a mess, his thighs shake and squirm and his hands clench, fingernails dug into his palms as he rolls up into you, meeting your movements as best he can. Your weight pins him down, it's difficult to manage, but he needs to, has to. So hard, and it's all because of you; "Sorry, 'm sorry-" 

His flustered apologies get a clear smile out of you. You drag your hands up his arms, feel the wrinkled fabric of his dress shirt's sleeves, you reach his palms and you press your thumbs to them, massaging. 

"Aki, touch me." 

He barely hears, your words are a fuzzy ringing in his eardrums that only register when you're tugging his hands up and placing them both around your waist. Aki cracks his fluttery eyes open. You press a hand to his chest for stability, you use the other to guide his own palm back, back. Shaking fingers travel over the curve of your ass, and Aki thinks he's going to choke on his heart in his throat. 

He doesn't protest, doesn't move, doesn't try to fight it. You're cupping his face and stroking his cheeks with your thumbs and he keeps his hands right where you left them: one weakly holding your waist, the other trembling, trying to find stillness, resting right below your waist and barely on your behind, shy fingertips ghosting over the back of your thigh. 

You're grinding against him feverishly now — Each time your core meets his, Aki pants harder, he's getting warmer and stiffer and more uncomfortable by the minute. Your rhythm is deep, your body is so terribly hot, the heat transfers from you to him and it makes his head all floaty and heavy. Sweat beads at his neck, beneath his collar and onto his chest. 

Barely able to speak, he gasps shakily, he tries to steady his breathing but it isn't any use. He abruptly stutters, "It's… it's- oh, shit…" 

"What's wrong?" 

Aki wants to reply to you, he does, and he's trying to. But he just keeps gasping and stammering, stumbling over his own words with no idea where to start. You trail your fingers from his cheek to his forehead, you push some messy strands of hair away from his face until you can see it better. Pretty blue eyes, pink skin, the softest expression. 

You're attempting to coax him to meet your gaze but he won't comply, he shuts his eyes tight, tosses his head back with a downright filthy groan as your clothed cunt rubs right along the fat length of his cock. 

God, he can't take this, he's throbbing so hard and it won't stop, his work slacks are impossibly tight and confined around his dick but one less layer of fabric and he'd be a goner. Any more of this, and he's going to fall apart. 

You lean in, tone sweeter than sugar, impossible to resist: "Tell me, sweet boy." 

"A-Ah," Aki gasps harder and harder, pants heavier, his thrusts up into you get more feverish, sloppy rolls of his hips as his hand tightens on your waist. The friction feels so perfect, so fucking good, he's getting closer. 

He can't breathe, his head is a mess, his stomach's in knots. "I'm… I can't, it's throbbing so bad, I'm gonna-" A sharp, loud gasp, you grind down on him just right, he's right on the edge, and then, "Please, please, I- stop stop stop stop-"

You listen to his words as soon as you hear them. Immediately freezing in your tracks, Aki is finally given a break. His chest heaves with force, he tears his hands away from you to toss his arms over his red face. Everything comes to a standstill. Very slowly, slowly but surely, your breathing begins to calm alongside his own. 

He sounded close. He sounded amazing. You feel a little bad for him, almost. He clearly isn't used to this. You got him so damn riled up, only to leave him hanging when he needed you the most. A small part of you starts to regret stopping, starts to wonder what he'd sound like if you didn't. 

What face he'd make, how he'd look at you with those pretty blue eyes, pupils dark and his face rosy red. How he'd whimper and sob as he makes a mess of his briefs, even louder and even more pathetic than he was before. 

Maybe it's your own fault — it's definitely your own fault — but even as the seconds go by, turning into minutes as you watch the rhythm of his chest grow slower and slower, your mind and your heart won't seem to quit. You can't manage to calm down. 

The remnants of his voice echo in your eardrums. So desperate, so unlike anything you've heard from him before. You'd begun to memorize the sound of his voice, the way his tone stays smooth and unwavering, each word spoken with intent, and in this short span of time, your expectations have all been completely shattered. 

He seemed nervous, almost; and fuck, he is. Nervous because he's not used to this, yes. But really, he's losing his mind because he's never felt like that. 

He's been pent up before, sure. When Aki had his place to himself, he remembers times where he needed to jerk himself off in the shower to let go of some steam. Or nights when he stayed up later than he should have palming himself through his briefs, too needy and lonely to sleep. But those times are few and far between. 

He doesn't get like this. Ever since things started getting bad at work, he's hardly felt anything but numb. It's been months since he felt even a shred of what he's feeling now, so long he started to forget what it was like. 

Any desires he's had have been nothing more than an afterthought or a stress reliever. He's never been so hard he could barely stand it, or so turned on he was seconds away from cumming in his pants like some kind of degenerate.

And as much as he hates how close he'd gotten, having to stop you when he was right on the edge has his head reeling. He can barely even think anymore. He really needs a cigarette. A cigarette and for someone to tell him to just get a damn grip already. 

By now, you've managed to mostly regain your bearings. You keep still, ignoring any lingering ache you have for something more to ask, "You alright?" 

Aki catches his breath for a few moments longer before he nods, answering, "Yeah, f-fuck, uh-huh." 

His hips shift, he squirms beneath you slightly and it proves to be a mistake when he immediately huffs a frustrated puff of air. He's just shifting with unrest, not trying to get you off of him; the little bit of movement presses his lap back into you unintentionally, and with your head much more clear, you can distinctly feel the fat outline in his pants, the way he's warm and firm and sits heavy underneath. 

Trying not to have every thought in your brain circle back to the image of his cock confined in his slacks proves to be almost impossible. 

As for him, you've stopped moving — thank God — which gives some degree of relief. But you're still situated on top of him with no signs of moving, and the weight of your body in his lap is overwhelming as is. When you're pressed into him like this, even when you're still, there's no way he can will his mind, let alone his body to calm down, no matter how hard he tries to. 

But he doesn't want you to move. Aki draws his arms away from his face and peers at you through droopy eyelids. Everything is so damn hot, the air is thick and stuffy and the room is sweltering. His bangs stick to his forehead from sweat, strands of stray hair cling to the corner of his mouth and he peels them away with his fingers. His chest is still heaving, his heart continues to beat like a festival drum and the sound rings loud in his own ears. 

What he wants to do is reach out to you, to pull you into him and feel your body as close to his as possible, even closer than this, just as he's been longing for. But he won't. And he doesn't. 

Even now, he isn't confident enough. He debates the idea in his own head for a second. He doesn't think he ever will be. He's got countless things he wants to say to you, but he waits for you to be the one to speak first. 

You eye him up and down, he looks like such a mess. It's a huge contrast to how he looked when he first walked in, when you first laid eyes on him. Professional and well-kept, every aspect neat and orderly like it was planned to be that way. Tie done up sprucely, not a button on his jacket out of place. The space between his sleeve and the cuff of his undershirt is exactly two fingers wide, just as he prefers it. 

He definitely didn't plan this, though. He would never plan for something like this, not in a million years. You're sure he wasn't counting on having his hair down and askew, a tangled mess where it's fanned out over the bright pink bedspread, nor did he think of his collar getting so uneven, or his shirt getting untucked from his pants, so wrinkled it'll take at least three trips to the ironing board to get rid of them all. 

Somehow, he's lost all semblance of the way he was before, too. The way he was trying to be. His cool and collected attitude, his stern sort of facade. He's a completely different person, or perhaps, this is who he really was all along. 

He's weaker than he aims to let on. You're the one who's drawn this out of him. You're the one who gets to see the disciplined, strict devil hunter reduced to nothing more than a gasping mess underneath you. The only one. This side to Aki Hayakawa is all yours. 

He looks calmer now. Figuring you've given him enough of a breather, you start to slide from his thighs. Aki props himself up on one elbow and you don't think anything of it until he abruptly reaches out, grabbing your wrist before you can fully get off of him. 

"Wait." 

"I'm not going anywhere," You reassure, reading his mind, glancing up to meet his eyes, "Just give me a second to stand up." 

Although he stares at you hesitantly for a couple of seconds, he ultimately decides to let go and leans backward, allowing you to get yourself standing up straight. 

"I'm just taking off my dress real quick, okay? It's too hot in this thing." 

You take a step away from him, and you reach for the zipper on the back of your dress. You're grasping it and dragging it down and Aki's eyes go wide but he figures it's far too late to tell you to stop. 

"Right." He replies matter-of-factly — Right, that's fine, he's prepared for this — and nothing else he could hope to say would carry any weight, because even as he speaks, you're already starting to slip the straps from your shoulders. 

He finds himself unable to take his eyes off of you as you slide the dress all the way down your legs until you're able to step out of it and kick it aside. In turn, you find it impossible not to notice how he stares, his face blushed out up to his ears, flighty gaze scanning you up and down, lips pursed in a manner that tells you he wants to say something but he doesn't have the guts, like he always does. You look up, and he turns away the second you catch him staring. 

And yeah, you are heating up like crazy, so you'd certainly be more comfortable with your dress off, but his eyes on you are a reminder of the reason you're doing this. The real reason. You've stripped down in front of customers before, you've done it on every one of the stages more times than you can count, but Aki is different. This moment is different. 

It's nowhere near the same, because Aki doesn't look at you the way those men did. He takes all of you in, each curve and tiny detail, like you're something to be loved, like you're precious. He stares at you like he'd sooner get on his knees and worship you than ever dare to leave you hurt. 

He didn't touch you like anyone else ever has, either. No, his touches were soft, they were hesitant. They carried a level of carefulness and piety you're sure you haven't experienced, they're so wholeheartedly Aki that you think you'd recognize his hands and his touch even if you didn't know it was him. You'd feel his unsure fingers and the warmth of his shaky breaths and know you'd be safe no matter what happens. 

Nothing you've experienced tonight has been anywhere near what you're used to. He's always been special. That's why you're still here, why you never want to leave him. 

And it isn't wrong for you to want more, right? Your head tells you it is, but your heart tells you it isn't, and you've always had a hard time listening to the former. It isn't when it's Aki, when he's already become more important to you than anyone. It isn't when you've been so starved for this without even realizing, and when Aki is the only man you want to give it to you. 

Besides, you've already come this far. Fuck, you knew what you were getting into, and maybe, deep down, you wanted something more with him from the very start, whether it was his time, his touch, his affection. His love. 

So, what's the sense in stopping now? 

When you've tossed your outfit aside, you're left in only your thigh-highs and a dainty set of matching lingerie. A glittery bra, and lacy underwear that clings to your hips with thin, black ribbons. 

Aki was right. He thought maybe his muddled up brain was just imagining things when your dress was riding up earlier. Or perhaps he was trying to convince himself he imagined it so he could avoid feeling embarrassed over what he accidentally saw. But no, he didn't. They are black, and this time, he can't manage to tear his gaze away. 

You want him to stare, you think. You love when he's looking at you, when it's clear you've captured every last shred of his attention — and right now, it appears you definitely have. Aki swallows, he looks you up and down and then shyly rests his weary gaze on your own. You'd do anything in the world to always have those pretty blue eyes on you, on only you. 

He remains reluctantly still, in a trance as you crawl back over him. You draw closer, the mattress shifts under the addition of your weight. Your outline starts to take up his vision, and your fingers, tracing his jaw at first, are then beginning to run through his hair — Tentatively, he allows a hand to slip behind you and hold the small of your back, nice and gently. Comfortably, as if it was meant to be there. You don't try and stop him. 

He looks you up and down one more time. Breathes in, sighs out, purses his lips again, wants to speak but doesn't. His gaze locks with your own, and his expression goes the softest you've ever seen it. He finds some stability in your eyes, enough to finally admit something of what he's been thinking. 

"You look pretty." 

You twist a strand of his hair around your finger and chuckle, "Think so?" 

Aki could answer that with just a yes. Yes, you are, I know so. But instead, he stalls. He freezes up because in reality, there's so much more he wants to say to you. 

You look pretty, and you're beautiful, you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He really doesn't deserve you, your kindness or your sympathy or your beauty. Before, he was sure the prettiest sight he's ever laid eyes on was the sunset over the snowy mountains in Hokkaido, but you make him beg to reconsider. 

And if he said it, as stupid and cheesy as it is, if he was somehow able to find words that don't exist to describe how perfect he thinks you are and how great of an imprint you've already left on him, it simply wouldn't be enough. It wouldn't be enough to deserve the softness of your heart even if he gave you everything he has. 

He wants to kiss you again. He holds your face in his shaky palm and he almost does. Almost. 

"Aki, I-" You start, he's pulling you in but he's suddenly stopping, your eyes flicker over his face and your voice trails into weakness towards the end, "I really want to keep going." 

"You do?" The sweet lilt in your tone makes him answer quickly, before he's even really thought about it. 

"Mhmm, is that something you want too?" Your palm is creeping up his chest and he hopes you can't feel the skip in his heartbeat. 

"Ah, yeah, just- uh-" He steadies himself with a slow breath in before he speaks again, "What do you mean by… you know. Keep going?" 

Now, you're the one leaning in. Aki inhales sharply, he half-expects you to kiss his lips like he was hoping for but instead, you leave his heart stuck up in his throat when you tilt your head and cup your hand around his ear; your voice is a crisp summer breeze as you sigh out his name. 

"Aki…" 

Heart sinking back down, it's warm and melty inside his chest. Your next words make it stutter. 

"Do you wanna fuck me?" 

"Huh?" 

His response comes out of shock; you push yourself up, your eyes stay locked onto his and he's so caught up with trying to remember how to breathe he almost doesn't notice how you're sliding back and reaching for his belt. Your fingers grasp around the buckle, you aren't trying to undo it, just fiddling, making it jingle to prove a point. The sound gets him to come to his senses, your words hit him like a slap in the face and before you can make another move, he reaches to grab your wrist and stop you. 

He's barely able to speak without stuttering: "Hold on, just… hold on." 

"Sorry, too forward?" 

"It's- you're- look, you-" He can't even talk, "You can't say it like that." 

"Ah. You're right, I shouldn't have. We don't have to do anything. If that's what you want." 

Clearly, you've got the wrong idea. He wants so goddamn much with you, he wouldn't even know where to start. 

Aki shakes his head, he snaps and stammers quickly in response, "No, no, I- I want to, I do. But I..."

Trailing off. Your eyes widen. "Really?" 

Gently squeezing your wrist, he sighs, and he continues, "Yes, I want to, it's just… I'm- Shit, how do I put this?"

"You're scared? Too shy?" 

"Sure, yeah. But that's- it's not what I'm trying to say." Aki looks away from you, once again trailing off into silence until you have the mercy to break it for him. 

"What are you trying to say, then?" 

He's fucked. Gotten himself in way, way too deep. Messed everything up the moment he decided to open his stupid mouth. You make it impossible to lie. Why couldn't he have just not said anything? 

"Nevermind." 

"No, no nevermind," You take your hand away from his grip, his fingers go slack and he lets go without a fight. You hold his face and softly squish his cheeks 'til his lips are pursed even harder than before. "C'mon, you have to tell me now." 

You don't understand. He could, and this shouldn't be so difficult. But honestly, telling you would feel like quite possibly the most humiliating thing he's ever done or ever will do. Normally he wouldn't care as much as he does, he knows he's being real stupid right now, real embarrassing in his own right, but when you're the one involved it becomes a completely different story. He cares about your impression of him more than he'd like to admit. 

Still looking away, "I can't." 

"I'm pretty sure you can." 

"I- I don't know. Listen, I want this with you. I do. But, I mean I'm… I haven't-" Again and again, he tries to set himself up to say the words, only to fail each time. He sighs, "You wouldn't want to do this anymore if I told you." 

"Not true," You huff, smiling, "It's not so easy to change my mind. I already said you can tell me anything, didn't I? Just say it." 

Aki stays silent for a few long, drawn-out seconds. His voice comes out quieter this time, softer, more uncertain. "I… I haven't- I've never… you know…" 

He takes a quick glance up at you before looking away, his cheeks are burning. Never what? 

You're clueless at first. The last thing you want is to push him too much, so you keep quiet, patiently waiting for Aki to sort out his sentences. You caress the length of his jaw with your thumb, listen to the way his breath hitches and tilt his chin towards you a bit when he refuses to look at you. 

Right when you thought you were getting close to cracking him, he shuts down again. You wonder if it's something you did, if it's the environment, if the pressure managed to overwhelm him at last. You're starting to realize you and him are so close and so far at the exact same time, and there's still so much you don't understand. 

He seemed like the innocent type, the kind of person who keeps themselves out of trouble, but any other guy would have forgotten that whole charade by now. Aki is far from any other guy, sure, but even for someone like him — No, especially for someone as straightforward and composed as he is, he should have no problem pushing his nervousness aside and taking charge. On the surface it'd seem that way. 

Is he always this nervous? Is he actually a nervous wreck constantly struggling to keep it together? Is he too focused on his goals as a devil hunter to talk to girls? Working yourself to death all the time doesn't leave much room for other pursuits. But he's handsome and polite and honest with a good personality, so there's no reason, nothing you can think of to explain why you wouldn't want to get closer to him. 

There's no reason for him to be so anxious. So troubled, so shy. It's just sex. Right? 

At that moment, without him ever saying a word, everything starts to click in your brain. His hesitance, his inexperience. What you probably should have realized from the very start. 

Yes, he does have a reason to be so scared and so clumsy with everything. There is a reason why a man as stern as him would suddenly start to act this damn unsure of himself. You've finally figured it out. 

Oh. He's a virgin. 

[archangeldyke-all]

Ok, hear me out... Sevika×Stripclub owner

Imagine Sevika got dragged into going to the club with a couple of co-workers one night.

The music is bopping, the lights are moody yet energetic, and there are dancers everywhere. Cigars, snazzy drinks, glitz and glam, just the works. But the only person who caught her eye was the peeved owner talking numbers with an investor over at the bar.

I'm sorry if this is weird. Thank you!!!

gonna change this just a bit and make reader the club mom (basically the person who takes care of the strippers, provides dinner, supplies, makes sure nobody steals their cash while they're working, breaks up fights, helps them with hair/makeup etc. etc.) just because i know more about it than club owning-- i used to watch club mom vlogs lmaooo

men and minors dni

crystal comes running into the back room, a panicked look in her eye. you glance up from cherry's nails to look at her.

"what's goin' on crys?" you ask. crystal runs to her locker.

"silco and his crew just came in! i gotta put on something sexier... these fucks got big fuckin' money!" she explains as she strips out of her bikini top. you raise an eyebrow.

"oh yeah?" you ask, returning your focus to cherry's signature red nails.

"you got any nipple pasties for sale?" she asks. you nod and wave her over.

"blow on these for a sec." you say to cherry. she nods, holding her nails up to her mouth, and you grab your duffel bag, hoisting it up onto the table and rifling through it.

"got some bedazzled ones, a few hearts of different colors, then the normal black and flesh colored ones." you say.

"oooh, sparkles! and i can wear my glittery thong with 'em!" cherry says. you chuckle, pulling out a pair of matching pasties for her and handing them over. "thanks, mom, i'll pay you back tonight!" she says, running back to the mirrors lining the walls to put her new outfit on.

cherry snorts across from you. "what?" you ask her as you return to coating her nails.

"you got no fucking clue who silco is, do you?" she asks. you giggle and shrug.

"it's not my job to care about customers, it's my job to care about you guys." you say. "who is he?" you ask.

"some shimmer dealer. he's gay, he just comes to ogle the bouncers, but he's got a big crew who love the girls-- he brings 'em all in after successful raids and stuff. they're all big spenders. 'specially his number two." cherry explains. you curse as you accidentally get some polish on her skin, reaching for a cotton ball and some remover.

"who's his number two?" you ask as you fix your mistake. cherry reaches into your duffel to grab a piece of gum, and you glare at her. she winks at you.

"sevika." she says around a mouthful. "she's popular at babette's too." cherry says. you nod.

"well, your nails are all done-- ready for sevika." you say. cherry giggles.

"thanks mom." she says, kissing your cheek before she saunters out onto the floor.

you groan, stretching and working the kinks out of your neck before you leave the locker room to do a lap around the club.

it's much more lively than it was thirty minutes ago, and you can easily identify silco sitting at the bar, cringing as three of your girls try to flirt with him to get him to buy a dance. you chuckle, approaching star to whisper in her ear.

"easy on 'im, he doesn't swing your way." you murmur. star snorts, then giggles and repeats your message to candy and shelly.

you watch as they all chuckle awkwardly at silco and wave him goodbye, and he seems beyond relieved to watch them walk away, his gaze wandering over to look at jimmy standing behind the stage, glaring at the patrons who get a little too close to kelli where she swings on the pole. you chuckle, and continue your round.

"how's it goin' mom?" trinity asks from behind the bar. you shrug.

"pretty good, how's it goin' out here?" you ask. trinity sighs.

"silco's goons always drink us dry. good for tips, but i'm gonna be exhausted by the end of the night." she says. you hum.

"did you get some dinner?" you ask. trinity rolls her eyes at you, smiling.

"yes, mom." she says. you nod.

"good. come get me if you need a break, i can take over the bar for a few minutes if you need a second to yourself." you say. trinity smiles.

"thanks mom, love you!" she calls after you.

you chuckle and roll your eyes.

just as you're about to return to your perch in the locker rooms, a scuffle breaks out.

frosty and buttercup are fighting over patron, smacking and pulling at eachother's hair. you groan and run over to get between them, hooking an arm around buttercup's waist and pulling her away from frosty.

"this bitch was takin' my money, mom!" buttercup screams.

"i was not, i was here first!" frosty cries.

the woman on the chair between them holds up her hands in a placating gesture. "i got enough for both of you, relax!" she cries. she goes ignored as buttercup lunges at frosty again.

"she pulled my hair outta my head, and she broke two of my fuckin' nails, she owes me!"

"stupid bitch, we all know those are extensions!"

"oh my fucking god, shut up!" you cry.

the girls both stop yelling, huffing and puffing in anger. you take a second to clear your head, then look at the woman still sitting in the lounge chair beneath you. she looks shocked.

"who was here first?" you ask. she points at frosty. "did you buy a dance from her?" you ask.

"n-no ma'am." she says. you sigh.

"who'd you give money to?" the woman points at buttercup.

"and that bitch tried to steal it from me when i wasn't looking!"

"'cause you keep trying to steal my customers!" frosty cries.

you look at frosty and hold your palm out. "give it." you say.

frosty gasps. "mom, come on!" she cries.

"just give me the fuckin' money frosty." you plea. frosty rolls her eyes then pulls the folded bull from between her tits, smacking it in your open palm. you sigh. "thank you." you say. she just rolls her eyes and turns on her heel, stomping off to find a new customer. you turn to look at buttercup.

"you've gotta stop provoking her." you say. buttercup shrugs.

"she shouldn't've fucked my man." she says. you groan.

"you shouldn't've been with jimmy in the first fuckin' place! you know he's a slut!" you say. buttercup groans.

"am i gettin' my money or what?" she asks. you shake your head.

"no, fuck off. go find someone else." you say. buttercup scoffs and turns on her heel, storming in the opposite direction of frosty. you take a deep breath, then look at the woman sitting in front of you.

"here." you say, handing her her cash. she takes it, blinking up at you with wide eyes. "sorry about that. tell trinity at the bar there that mom says you get free drinks for the night. she'll take care of you." you say to the woman. she looks over her shoulder at the bar and then back at you.

"y-you're her mom?" she asks. you laugh.

"fuck no, shit, do i look that old?" you ask, looking down at yourself.

you're in your usual get up, a bedazzled black velour tracksuit one of the girls gifted you for your birthday and a club t-shirt beneath it. the woman in front of you chuckles and shakes her head.

"no, you look fuckin' amazing, i was gonna be shocked if you said yes. why do they call you mom?" she asks. you laugh.

"i'm the club mom. i take care of the girls, break up fights the bouncers are too scared to get between." you joke. the woman in front of you laughs.

"that makes more sense. i'm sevika." she says, reaching her hand out for you to take. you shake it.

"oooh, i've heard about you. big spender, huh?" you ask. sevika laughs and shrugs again.

"yeah, i... i've been trying to cut back a bit." she says. "thinkin' about settling down." you laugh.

"you're in the wrong place for that." you say. she laughs and nods. "well, have a good night." you say, waving over your shoulder as you walk back to the locker rooms.

trinity takes you up on your offer a few hours later, tapping out for fifteen minutes to lay down in the back while you mix up drinks for her behind the bar.

sevika comes to visit you as you work.

"single mom and a bartender, huh?" she asks. you roll you eyes and snort at her joke.

"what're you having?" you ask. she shrugs.

"whiskey, neat."

you quickly pour her a glass of whiskey from the top shelf. as you hand it to her she grins.

"top shelf, huh?" she asks. you shrug.

"it's an apology for my girls." you say. "hope tonight's scuffle won't affect your impression of the club."

"are you kidding? it was hot as fuck!" she says. you laugh.

"yeah, i guess it was a pretty good show for you huh? tits swinging in your face while they were throwing punches."

"no, fuck no, i wasn't talkin' about them, i was talkin' about you." sevika says. you freeze.

"me?" you ask. sevika grins.

"fuck yes. you jumped right between 'em-- even with their claws flyin'-- threw that one girl halfway across the club too."

you laugh. "i barely moved her a foot." you say. sevika shrugs.

"'m just sayin'. gotta break up a lotta fights at silco's bar, but i've never broken up a catfight. girls are scary when they get the claws out-- they don't fight like guys. they go straight for the weak spots-- hair, eyes, throats. best to leave 'em til they fizzle out. you didn't though. jumped right in-- broke it up in half a minute."

you scoff. "fuck off." you say, shaking your head. sevika smiles at you from across the bar.

"you don't believe me?"

"that you found me, the fully clothed woman, more attractive than the naked girls fighting for your attention? no, i don't." you say, laughing. sevika just smirks.

"i've had plenty of naked girls fighting for my attention." she says. you snort.

"i'm sure."

"never seen a girl with balls like yours, though." she says.

you consider her for a moment. she's grinning, a sparkle in her eye as she looks you up and down, biting her lip between her teeth.

trinity finds you to take over before you can do much more talking with sevika.

it's probably for the best. she's your type, sure, but you doubt she was serious about all that 'settle down' bullshit.

the night goes by relatively smoothly after that. there's a few broken nails you glue back together, a few wardrobe malfunctions, a couple of spats you have to break up, but nothing like buttercup and frosty's.

as you're helping the girls count and band their earnings for the night, cherry finds you again, sitting by your side, resting her head on your shoulder.

"what's wrong with you?" you ask.

"am i gettin' old?" she asks. you look over at her to scoff. cherry's barely a year younger than you.

"you better not be, because that means i'm gettin' old."

cherry laughs. "am i ugly? getting fat?" she asks. you gawk at her.

"fuck is goin' on with you?" you ask your redheaded friend. she shrugs.

"sevika barely looked at me tonight. i'm usually her favorite." she says.

"no shit, really? she didn't buy any dances from me tonight, either." star says from where she's changing into her sweats.

"you guys talkin' about sevika?" shelly asks as she enters the locker room. star nods. "my sister works at babette's. hasn't seen sevika in weeks. asked her about it tonight, she says she's cutting back."

"who sevika?" mandy asks. you all nod. "she didn't spend a fuckin' cent tonight. bitch."

the girls laugh, and you shake your head in faux admonishment.

by the time you're clocking out, you're exhausted. you groan as you step into the back alley, a joint between your lips, patting down your pockets in search for your lighter.

"there you are, mom." sevika says, shrouded in shadow.

you jump and whip around to glare at her. she chuckles. "sorry. need a light?" she offers. you sigh, leaning against the wall as sevika reaches forward and sparks her lighter at the end of your joint, before leaning against the wall beside you.

"you just lurk in alleys for fun?" you ask.

"nah. i asked one of the girls where i could find you after work. wanted to talk to you some more." she says. you chuckle.

"talk about what? how you spent the whole night loitering? not paying my girls?" you ask. sevika chuckles.

"i told you i was trying to cut back."

"why the fuck would you come to a strip club, then?" you ask. she groans.

"silco insists we all come. team bonding, or some shit." she says. you laugh.

"it's common courtesy to tip your favorite girls if you spend the night in the club, even if you didn't buy a dance." you say. she nods.

"i know." she says. "i was planning on it, but kinda got distracted." she says.

"with the fight?" you ask, cringing as you remember the way buttercup and frosty acted earlier in the evening.

"no, with you." she says. your eyes snap up to look at sevika. she shrugs. "you still don't believe me?"

"i-i dunno." you say. she laughs.

"i--" she sighs, looking away from you and rubbing the back of her neck. "fuck this is embarrassing." she mutters. you blink at her as she struggles for her words, and then pass her your joint. "fuck, thank you." she says sincerely as she takes a big hit. she exhales and passes it back to you, then looks at her feet. "i'm-- i had a near death experience a few months ago and it got me thinkin' about my life. i figured i should start-- i dunno, takin' shit more seriously, you know?" she asks. you blink and nod at her.

"sure." you say, nodding.

"so i started cutting back. 'm down to a cigarette a day. try to drink only on weekends. haven't been to babette's in a while. and tonight, i figured i'd let loose a bit-- indulge. it's fucking boring getting your shit together and living healthy and shit. i was really hoping to get wasted and stare at tits all night." she says. you chuckle.

"so why didn't you?" you ask.

sevika blinks at you, a sparkle in her eye. "i met you instead." she says. you raise a skeptical eyebrow at her.

"so?" you ask. she grins.

"so... you're not fuckin' boring at all, are you?" she asks. you laugh.

"i wrangle a buncha girls for a living because i wasn't hot enough to be a stripper myself." you say. sevika chuckles. "when nights are slow, i sit in the back and read. when i'm off work, i sleep and read. i'm boring as shit."

"and yet, for some reason, i wanted to talk to you more than i wanted to stare at tits and get blasted tonight." she says.

you bite your cheek, trying to hold back your smile. sevika grins at you.

"fuck off." you say. she chuckles.

"are you free tomorrow?" she asks. you blink at her.

"for what?"

"a date?" she asks. you blink again.

"you're... serious?" you ask. sevika laughs, reaching up to gently cup your cheek. your stomach flips.

"you're starting to get it." she says, smiling. you blink. "so?" she asks.

"i'm free." you say. sevika grins.

"cool." she says.

"c-cool." you say. sevika's eyes dart down to your lips, and you gulp.

"it would be weird if i tipped you, right?" she asks. you burst into laughter, and sevika's smile widens. "i mean, you were the girl that caught my eye tonight-- it's common courtesy to tip you, right?" she asks, chuckling. you snort, smacking her shoulder.

"fuck off!" you exclaim. sevika giggles.

"so that's a no?" she asks.

"no." you say, shaking your head. "don't tip me."

"hm." sevika pouts. "well... is there any other way i could show you how fucking attractive and alluring i find you before our date?" she asks, her voice husky and low, her eyes pinned to your lips. you stop laughing, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"fuck off." you whisper. sevika smiles, and you slowly, slowly lean forward, until your lips are a breath away from sevika's. she shivers.

"please." she whispers. you smile, and then close the gap between the two of you, pressing your lips against hers. she sighs against you, her free hand coming up to grab your waist, and you shudder, grabbing her shoulders in your hands as you deepen the kiss.

sevika groans against you, stepping closer to you, pinning you to the wall as she runs her tongue over your bottom lip. you gasp, and she hums, and the back door to the club slams open.

"mom, do you know where the extra baby wipes-- oh shit!" cherry exclaims.

sevika clears her throat as she steps away from you, and you roll your eyes.

"top shelf in the closet." you say. cherry giggles.

"shit, get it mom!" she exclaims. you sigh, and sevika chuckles. "oh, the girls are gonna love this! hey candy! guess what?" cherry calls over her shoulder as she turns to enter the club again, a giddy grin on her face.

you groan, rolling your eyes. sevika smiles at you.

"so... tomorrow? she asks.

you sigh, then nod. "tomorrow." you agree.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki

[milfs69420]

You Belong With Me (part 1)

Natasha ran from her home country when she was 18, and has since been working at a stripclub in NYC. One night she spots a woman who seems all too familiar and turns out to be her childhood lover. While getting to know each other all over again, they discover new truths and old lies.

- Natasha Romanoff x Katya Petrova - Wordcount: 3K - Warnings: none I think - A/N: Sooooo, I wrote a fanfic about a fanfic. This stripclub AU idea has been floating around for a while, but I finally managed to get a part done. Thank you @katyaromanoffpetrova for letting me borrow your babies🫶 I hope I did them justice. If you're curious about who Katya is, check out the forgotten ghost series here!

Do not repost my work as your own or translate my work!!

The bright light above the mirror casts its hideous yellow hue down on Natasha’s face. She could hardly tell the shades of her various lipsticks apart in this setting. Some days she hardly bothered with her makeup, the dark circles around her eyes were far too visible for any concealer to hide. Today though, something told her to put in some extra effort. Who, or what, was telling her, she didn’t know. Very few things harnessed the power to make Natasha Romanoff listen, but she would never go against her intuition.

The redhead stepped out of the dressing room and into the dimly lit hallway. After sitting under that bright light for so long she had to squint her eyes to see where she was going. She hardly needed the ability to see here at all. Natasha had walked this very path so many times that she was doing it on auto-pilot by now. She knew every crease in the dirty, stained carpet. She knew exactly where to place her heel adorned feet as she made her way to the stage area.

Natasha liked dancing, loved it even. As a little girl in Russia she had danced nearly every single day. Even the extremely strict ballet teacher hadn’t been able to break her and her passion for letting the rhythm guide her body. Of course, this wasn’t the type of dancing career she had imagined for herself while growing up, but it’s what paid her bills and kept her alive.

Moving, or rather, running away to another country when she had just turned eighteen hadn’t been easy, and it certainly hadn’t been cheap. So when she met Clint, her best friend and one of the bartenders at the club, she took the opportunity she was offered and started working there as one of the dancers. Originally it had been a temporary solution, just to get her on her feet in this new life. However, she quickly realised these people were much more than just coworkers, they’d become her found family before she even realised it.

So here she was, in her high heels and the skimpy bits of fabric you could hardly call clothing. She heard the music start and let her body take over from her brain, as she made her way to the centre of the stage, complete with pole and all, she took a quick and subtle look at the crowd. At first glance it was the same as every other night, young guys who’d just gotten their paycheques, middle aged men who most likely told their wives they’re working late, and the same old men smoking cigars and eyeing her up.

But as she was about to shut her brain off and let her limbs move themselves, she spotted a woman. All alone and mysterious in the darkest corner of the club, with what looked like a martini in her hand. Thanks to the darkness, Natasha couldn’t make out any clear features. All she could see was dark hair, seemingly brown but she wasn’t certain. And all that she felt was an overwhelming amount of familiarity, like she hadn’t only seen this woman before, but like she knew her. Natasha could not see the woman’s eyes in the darkness, but she knew they were focused on her.

Whether she meant to or not, Natasha’s dance was focused on this woman now. If she looked into the crowd at all, she looked at her. She put some extra effort and seductiveness into her movements, and she enjoyed doing it. Dancing for men whose attention she hardly wanted in the first place was just a job, and not one she was always happy to do. But this woman brought out her true passion for dancing, motivated her to truly let the rhythm guide her and just enjoy the moment.

When the redhead finished her dance, she left the stage almost immediately and made her way towards that dark corner. The crowd didn’t let her through nearly as fast as she wanted, and she was disappointed to find the seat empty when she finally got there. If this had been any random person, Natasha would’ve assumed they got flustered by just being in the club and ran. However, something told her that wasn’t the case here. Her mood now having been ruined by not even catching a glimpse of the woman, she didn’t feel the need to stick around.

She went to the backstage area, walked that barely lit hallway again until she reached the door to the stairs. She was one of three people living above the club. Her, Clint and Maria each had their own spaces and enough privacy to not be bothered by each other, they did however share a kitchen together. The rent was incredibly cheap due to their employment and it was a nice spot in the city as well. Unbeknownst to their boss, Fury, Natasha had a dark haired, four legged roommate upstairs.

She found Liho in the street when she was still a kitten. She was looking about as miserable and hopeless as the redhead was feeling at the time, so the only logical option was obviously to take her home. Part of Natasha had been afraid that the cat would abandon her over time, but Liho seemed better than the humans who’d let the woman down time and time again.

That night, sleep did not come easy to Natasha. She overanalysed everything she saw, or didn’t see of the mysterious woman. For some unknown reason, she was a hundred percent sure that she knew this person. When or how they met, she didn’t know, but she was certain that they had.

………

Every night that she was on stage, Natasha looked at that corner, hoping to see the person who’d been keeping her up for weeks now. She’d almost lost hope that she would see her again at all, until today. As the redhead went through her entry routine on stage, she spotted that mystery person in the corner. Before she could stop it, the slightest smirk appeared on her face.

You see, Natasha had spent her sleepless nights coming up with a plan to prevent this woman from escaping again before she could truly see her. So she made her way to the front of the stage, which had stairs connected to it, and she went into the audience. Now obviously she couldn’t just walk straight to the corner, so as she moved through the various seating arrangements, she stopped a few times. She danced at some tables and gave some extra attention to men who seemed well off enough to throw her some extra dollar bills, until she finally approached that corner.

The lighting in the club focused on Natasha, and therefore started lighting up this usually dark area. As she moved closer, the redhead could see the woman more clearly by the second. The first thing that got her attention wasn’t the clothing that she was wearing, but rather the skin left exposed by it. Tattoos that Natasha couldn’t make out quite clear enough yet, decorated smooth skin as far as she could see. She found herself imagining how many more of those she could find underneath the black slacks and white dress shirt combination. The black blazer had been hung over the chair, and her white sleeves had been rolled up. As her eyes made their way upwards, she didn’t fail to notice the amount of buttons that had been undone on the shirt, before finally getting a look at the woman’s face

Brown, shoulder length hair surrounded what may just be the most gorgeous face she’d seen in a long time, if not her whole life. Piercing blue eyes had locked onto her green ones as soon as she’d left the stage, and hadn’t looked away since. Now, Natasha was by no means shy or introverted, but she found a surprising amount of difficulty just to hold eye contact. The woman however, seemed to radiate nothing but confidence.

Where most, if not all, men would be eyeing her up like a piece of meat by now, she found what seemed an awful lot like admiration in the brunette’s eyes. She was definitely staring at Natasha, but in an oddly respectful manner. There wasn’t just lust in her eyes, she seemed enticed by the way the redhead moved her body. The way this woman was looking at her made Natasha feel good. It made her feel sexy in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time, and it filled her with newfound confidence.

Since the brunette was situated in a single chair and not in one of the booths they had in the club, Natasha took the opportunity to circle around her before settling in front of the chair. As the redhead moved her body to the music, the woman uncrossed and opened up her legs in a swift, but elegant, movement. Natasha took this as an invite to get closer, and as she did so she bent over just enough for her mouth to end up near this woman’s ear.

“Are you planning on running away again, darling?”

As she moved back to stand up straight again, she held eye contact with the brunette and found a smirk adorning that mesmerising face. Natasha could’ve, and had, imagined many different responses to her question. She’d thought about it far more than she should have probably. However, what came out of the woman’s mouth was far from anything she had expected.

“I think I’ll stay this time, I’ve missed seeing your face, Natalia.”

Shock and confusion overtook the redhead, and it was a good thing her performance time had ended at this moment. The spotlight went out as she made one last gesture to the crowd before turning around to face the woman again, what she found was that same smirk still on her face. Now though, Natasha didn’t think about how attractive that face was, she only focused on how the hell this person knew a name she had left behind all those years ago.

“How do you know that?” Was the first of many questions she wanted to ask, but for now it was the most important one. She recognised the features of the brunette’s face, but had a feeling that the time they knew each other was far in the past. What was starting to get to her though, was the smugness all over the face opposite of her. She seemed to know nothing about the person in front of her, who seemed to know a whole lot about Natasha.

“You really don’t remember me, do you?” The brunette started to get on her nerves now, Natasha wasn’t in the mood for any of these games, she wanted answers right now. “Am I supposed to recognise you? You seem to think you’re quite memorable.” At that, the woman smiled, not a smirk, no smug looks, a genuine smile.

“I thought people always remembered their first kiss.”

Now seemed like a great moment for Natasha to sit down in the chair opposite of the brunette, mainly because the shock of this all gave her some difficulty with standing up straight. “Katariina?” She couldn’t find the right words to say, so instead opted for just her name. She hadn’t seen that gorgeous face since they were both teenagers, so it made sense she didn’t recognise her right away, so many years later. Now that she knew though, she couldn’t stop the flood of memories that came over her.

Natasha had moved around Russia far more than she would’ve liked when she was a kid. Her mother had passed away when she was a baby, and her father just left her on the doorstep of the nearest orphanage. Little Natasha was far too rebellious for her own good, and this resulted in being kicked out of foster homes time after time again. The longest she ever lasted was a little over a year, and it wasn’t the family she was staying with that got her through that time. No, it was that beautiful face she found looking back at her now.

“It’s just Katya now actually, but good to know you remember, Natalia.” And remember, she did. She recalled the first time that she saw Katya, her foster parents quickly tugged her the other way and told her not to play with the girl, to never even go near the huge house on the other side of the street. But something about her had already intrigued Natasha, even if she had only seen her for just a second. From that moment on, all that she wanted to do was get to know this girl. As she did so, she found that she craved to be much closer than friends were supposed to be. She wanted to know her in far more intimate ways than society deemed acceptable for them.

“It’s probably my hair. It’s not blonde anymore” Natasha looked at her, took her time to take in this new appearance. “I can see that, the ink wasn’t there either.” Now it was Katya’s turn, to take in her own appearance. Smiling, she looked back at the redhead. “I suppose you, of all people, would’ve known about any ink on my skin.” At that, Natasha couldn’t help but blush. Memories of their secret meet ups filled her head. Some nights had been spent exploring the rural areas around their town, where nobody would find them. Other nights, they explored each other instead.

While they were both enjoying this seemingly light-hearted conversation, Natasha had questions to ask. “So I guess it’s not a coincidence that you found me, is it?” Katya smiled at her now, no longer hiding behind a facade of smugness and false confidence, powerful as she was, she’d been terrified of how the redhead could’ve reacted. “No it’s not, though I’ve got to give you credit where it’s due. You didn’t make it easy to track you down.”

“So how did you manage to find me anyway?” Natasha had changed her whole identity, finding her was supposed to be nearly impossible. “I have my ways.” Is all that the brunette gave her.

“Still being mysterious, I see. Nice to know you didn’t change too much.” She hadn’t meant to let that out as angrily as it did, but this was a lot to handle.

“I couldn’t afford to tell you anything back then, it would’ve put both of our lives at risk, Natalia.”

“And you still can’t tell me now?” For some reason, Natasha didn’t feel the need to correct the brunette when she used her old name. She was sure that Katya knew her new identity anyway, but simply chose not to acknowledge it. Plus, she didn’t mind the way her name sounded, rolling off of her childhood lover’s tongue.

“I could, and I might, but this isn’t the time or place. I’m sure you understand that, don’t you?”

“So when and where do I have to be, to get some answers out of you?” Again, Katya smiled at her, and this time Natasha couldn’t help but notice how gorgeous she looked as she did so. It seemed as if that magical charm that had intrigued her when they were teens, was still there all these years later.

“You seem quite eager to spend more time with me milaya(милая).” To hear that term of endearment coming from the brunette, seemed to bring back far more than just memories. Natasha felt as if her stomach did a backflip as soon as the word reached her ears. It shouldn’t be that easy, for Katya to make her feel anything at all after all this time. But neither of them could deny that they had a special connection, one that ran far deeper than just childhood love.

“I’m just eager to know how you found me, and why you wanted to in the first place.”

Katya just looked at her, a more serious expression on her face now. She seemed to be taking in every detail of Natasha’s appearance, studying her so attentively that the redhead started feeling shy under her gaze. Before she realised what was happening, Katya started getting up. She put on her jacket and Natasha would never admit how much she hated seeing all that skin being covered up. Right as the brunette was about to walk away, she turned around one last time.

“Saturday night, nine PM, be ready and wait outside. I’ll have a car pick you up.”

With that, Katya walked towards the exit, leaving Natasha to gather her thoughts as she made her way upstairs. The rest of the night was spent thinking about Katya, and that damn smile of hers. The brunette was the only person she’d met in their home country, who didn’t hurt her. The only person who made her feel like life may not be all that bad when you have someone to share it with. Leaving that town had been one of the most painful things she’d experienced, and she’s been through a lot. Being forced to leave the only person she had truly loved and felt connected to up until then had felt like someone ripped apart her heart. The worst part was that she wasn’t given a reason, her foster parents seemed to have decided overnight not to want her anymore.

She’d since learned to live with all the abandonment she’s had to go through, and she’s worked on becoming a better person ever since she left her home country. While she was well aware that this was much too early to think about having Katya in her life at all, she couldn’t help but feel excited at the prospect of getting to know her again.

That night, Natasha went to sleep feeling hopeful. Maybe she would’t end up alone, doing this job, after all.

[blackdollette]

"find me in the club." | spencer reid

a&w. - lana del rey

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: so what if you were a serial killer? a charming smile and a nice pair of tits were all it took to clean your slate.

fill out the taglist form! : @thirtyratsinasuit @auggiethecreator @oliviah-25 @sleepysongbirdsings @pleasantwitchgarden @emma-e-a @bellasprettywords @hiireadstuff

⊹₊⋆ pairing: unsub!stripper!female!reader x spencer

⊹₊⋆ word count: 897

⊹₊⋆ contents: smutty, no sex (sorry folks)

stripclub murders. risque, barbarous, and frankly, yet another reason added to many of why you should’ve quit that job a long time ago. but you didn’t think you were in the wrong for slashing a few throats in order to get to the top.

“is there a problem here, officer?” the batting of your mascara-coated eyelashes, the syrupy sweetness melting your words together, and the way you sat prettily on the barstool at the corner of the club, putting on a perfect mask of innocence as the FBI agent stood in front of you, hands shoved in his pockets. 

spencer had always been a sucker for pretty girls. hell, he couldn’t even count how many times it had landed him in trouble. a pair of pretty eyes and a nicer pair of knockers were all it took to sweep the boy-genius off his feet.

he cleared his throat, pulling out his badge and credentials as he introduced himself. “i’m dr spencer reid, with the fbi. i’m sorry to interrupt your…” he hesitated, the flashing lights and head-throbbing music surrounding him throwing him off slightly. “...business, but i’m here to discuss and ask a few questions about a few murders of your co-workers.”

you feigned an expression of shock, one of deep disturbance and fear. you’d even managed to add a perfect quiver to your voice. “oh gosh… i don’t know how any guy could do something like that.”

that simple statement should’ve been red flag number one: there had been no mention of gender in any of his previous statements. usually he’d pick up on the in the blink of an eye, but how could he with the way your raunchy “clothing” went out of it’s way to reveal a sinful amount of your cleavage, the way you leaned forward with faux-interest making your chest appeal to him all the more. it was almost painful for him to tear his eyes away.

you were almost unable to bite back your smirk. men were simple creatures, no matter how smart they claimed to be. and you couldn’t deny how satisfying it was watching the boy’s IQ slash into pieces.

he cleared his throat, speaking again after an over-extended silence. “um, i hope you don’t mind me asking but would it be possible if we could possibly step outside and you… maybe wear a jacket or something..?”

his self-control was impressive, but murder wasn’t the only thing that got you to become the hottest girl at the function.

you narrowed your eyes slightly, deciding to play the “fake-offense” card. “do you have a problem with all this, doctor? because i can assure you i get slut-shamed by more than enough assholes and don’t need someone like you joining in.”

he shook his head frantically, sputtering out protests. “n-no, not at all, ma’am. i’m from vegas, this is nothing new.”

your eyebrows inched upward. “vegas, huh? then i guess you wouldn’t mind sitting down and having a drink with me while we have this little… discussion.”

his rejection of your offer got caught in his teeth as you subtly pressed your chest together with your elbows. he subconsciously sat down next to you, like a marionette obeying it’s master. you had been talking for less than two minutes and already had him completely whipped. 

you poured him a generous glass of red wine, pushing it over to him with one finger while holding blood-boiling eye contact with him the entire time, your gaze boring into his like you were daring him to accuse you of murder. 

but the boy simply brushed his chestnut-brown hair out of his face, eyes fixated on your features as he struggled to formulate the questions that he had been assigned to ask. and that was your ticket out of this interaction.

you pouted your lustrous lips, slowly trailing your manicured fingers along the rim of his glass, not tearing your eyes away from his for a second. 

“you know, doctor, it’s such a relief having people like you around.” you shamelessly leaned toward him just an inch more, his eyes now glued to your breasts as he let out soft pants and gasps, cheeks tinted with pink. you continued. “i oughta do something in return. to thank you for going out of your way to keep me… us safe.”

you picked up his wine glass, bringing it up to your lips and draining the whole thing in one gulp. a stray drop of the deep red liquid cascaded down your neck, pulling him into a hypnotic state as he watched it disappear into the skimpy fabric of your bra.

“if you ever wanna see me out of work hours, stop by and ask for me. i’d happily treat you to a little something, free of charge.”

a stupid little grin and a blank nod was all spencer could manage to muster as you sauntered away, drool threatening to pour down his lip as the image of you tattooed itself in his brain. if only he could do something about the boner that was now pressing against his pants, pleading for release.

until it was as if an authoritative hand had slapped some sense back into him, and he realized what he had done. 

“hey, wait..!”

he called out into the abyss of loud music and bright lights that had just let the perfect killer get away.

author's note: bon appetitty

[canonsinthehead]

so hows the night life in the villages? which is the best and worse? 😸😸

Glad you asked... there are few topics ni the answer ill go deeper in another post but i hope yall get the picture...

Naruto Headcanons - Ranking Nightlife in Different Villages (from best to worse)

1- Kumogakure (THE Party City)

Obviously Kumo takes the first place for its unmatched nightlife culture. It is alive at night and very welcoming of foreigners, some people make a whole trip to Kumo just to party.

There are sooooo many nightclubs of different types. Hip hop, Pop or Western etc. Kumo is known for being the only nation to have stripclubs. other countries, always claim to be more conservative in that area. it ties into the more liberal/accepting expression of sexuality (especially from women).

everything is intertwined when you look up the country's music history. Many famous artists strated in nightclubs.

The city lives at night, many sports clubs are operating during dark hours and inviting the night owls to join in. Along this, you can take all types of classes/courses taking place at night if clubbing is not your cup of tea.

Kumo is so diverse, there is a district/area or stores/businesses for all types of preferences, interests or way of life. Are you LGBT, plus size, disabled, a salary man, vegan, emo, a sneaker head or whatever it is, you will find a place for taste.

it has become a challenge some residents (and tourists), to make a 6PM to 6AM Challlenge. where it consist of staying awake and indulging in the nightlife until sunrise. it was popularized by an episode of Killer Bee's Showtime where they came up with the concept and has became a legit tourist attraction since theres so much to do

2- Konohagakure (6 to 9 Heaven)

In Konoha, a lot of people have a 9-5 schedule so big part of the village nightlife is centered around "after work" activities. When you go out on weekdays, you will mostly encounter employees trying to unwind after a long workday

regardless there are so many activities to do after the sunset. the most popular are karaoke, hot springs and street food stands.

Konoha's foundation being a mountain, there are many hidden spots hidden in its complex foundation. when look over it, you can observe spots of hundred of spotlights all over the city because small goups loves to meetup in various places and just chill together

the largest cinemas are located in Konoha. it one of the few places where you can go watch movies from other nations to the exceptions of Kiri for their heavy censorships laws and Suna for being in a different language.

Cabaret clubs are huge in Konoha.

you can find many 24/7 ramen shops and Internet Cafes

The comedy scene in Konoha is big. off course it doesnt match Kumo's but Konoha produced many well known comedians. All the "Comedy Open mic nights" are to die for.

Konoha scored high also for being a welcoming nation and embraces tourist/foreigners with open minds.

3- Iwagakure (Rock 'n' Roll)

if you are looking for a good music concert to attend. especially for rock and indie music.

it scored lower because many of those locations (to party) and the culture surrounding them are sometimes hard to find

mixed with the nightlife, Iwa has a strong adult entertainment industry. There are countless soaplands and burlesque show, again only if you can find them

(Honorable Mention) 3.5 - Modern Kirigakure (Work in Progress)

On the way to become like Konoha (along with their own sauce) but is not there yet

outside of the capital, they still operate like the previous system like the rest of the country of water.

4- Sunagakure (Organized Events)

The nightlife of Suna is more made of organized events where mass of people attent. The largest venues happen on Fridays since there are a lage diversity of shecdules among the population but everthing stops from Friday night to Sunday morning.

A typical night activity is enjoying tea, there are hundreds of tea stands across the country, sometimes even in the middle of nowhere for travelers during their long journey in the desert. they along serve flavourful whiskeys and tasty snacks. It is the #1 socializing spot.

The food is to die for. The culinary scene of Suna is unmatched, with all the ingredients natives to the regions it gives unique meal you cant find anywhere else. there are many restaurants of all types open until the early hours of the morning.

Live performing is a very prevelant part of Suna's nightlife,

A lot of night activities are meant to be enjoyed in large numbers especially among families since many of them are large.

the problem is that Suna is really weary of tourists/foreigners, so accessing certain areas, restaurants or pubs may be denied because they require invitations. That would limit your acess to tea houses and restaurants in the main city/touristic areas where the inflation is crazzzzyyyyyyy for outsiders. Also the language barrier doesnt help...

the best deal would be to be invited among someone's familiy and celebrate with them, it's just as good as going out

5- Old Kirigakure (Dangerous Territories ahead...)

It is advised for regular citizen (especiall women and children) to stay inside as soon as the sun sets. They say the freaks come out at night, all criminals and gang members come out after nightfall. they occupate various pubs and bars. The city is dual face because it is literraly re-birthed at night for a whole different aura to plague the city at night.

most illegal activities take place at night.

there are a lot of brothels operating under criminal leadership. along with illegal/dubious boxing matches and fight clubs where gambling happens.

Gambling is no joke, it is a serious widespread practice where you can witness (and participate with) players with dices on street corners.

At all time, territories are clearly separated, either by criminal affiliations, ethnicities or caste levels. cross it and will likely pay it with your life.

as a foreigner, if you fit the physical attributes of the local men, you could go unnoticed for some time but it adviced not to even try since you may be cooked when people ask for your paperwork to enter certain spaces. also even if you make and get "accepted", the wrong gesture, word could lead to a misunderstanding and escalate into violence

Kirigakure is male centered society. 90% of the people outside at night are male. many levels of society caters to them hence why a lot of adult males without criminal affialition have no problem going out at night to drink their souls away.

you can witness public intercourse

going on the previous point, there is a deep (but hidden) male LGBT culture running in Kiri. many of them are affiliated with various gangs or crimelords like Gato. Some would suggest that homosexuality is lowkey normalized among gangs (do the homie) but it will never be confirmed. So if you know where to look, are determined (crazy) enough, and looking for a hookup with a tattoed muscular dude with a questionable (dead) body count, then go ahead.

Ironically, the gigolo scene industry is as large as female adult entertainment/prostitution in Kiri. they are not going to tell you that most of them are gang members who fell from grace/punished for making mistakes or literal human trafficking.

6- Amegakure (DO NOT TRESSPASS)

RAVES. The rave culture is unmatched. If you are looking for hardcore parties with moshpits and loud eletronic music you are looking at the right place.

The night culture is really the bulk of what there is to do in Ame, its residents uses thoses parties and alcohol to escape for the reality of their daily lives.

Like everything in the country, it is so hard to acces and it doesnt like outsiders not even a little bit. most of them are not allowed to even enter the city's walls.

There you can find the HARDEST drugs in the entire world. Addictions is a real issue in Ame but when i mean hard i mean amnesia (you forget your life before you consumed it) type of hard

if you go there, you 10000% getting robbed.

thanks yall for your request, that was fun to do. hope the formatting is not too much.

shoutout to @getyourmindrightson, @oceanjenna! thanks for the support.

[xhoess]

Midnight desire

Masterlist

Yunho x fem bod! Stripper

Summary: mingi tells yunho to get some action in his life and tries different things with him, such as going to parties. But when it comes to Mingi bringing him to a stripclub he meets the most gorgeous (and sexy) girl he's ever seen in his life.

Genre: romance, mature content

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: sex, alcohol

(Story under the cut!)

"Yunho come on we need to leave now" mingi says to him while waiting by the door "yeah yeah, I'm comming" yungho sighs, he put his shoes on and followed Mingi to the car.

Mingi and yunho live together in an apparent, they both don't have a relationship and figured it would be cheaper to live together than to buy separate houses. But lately Mingi is getting annoying by the fact that yunho doesn't even try to get laid, so now he is dragging him to every party he gets invited to.

"Y'know, it won't be so bad to think with your dick once in a while yunho, I know Gina is coming to the party and I also know you have been eye-fucking her since the day you met her" mingi rants "mingi come on, will you just shut up for once. I am not fucking your sister it's gross!" He said, raising his voice. "Eyy, if I'm not grossed out by it you shouldn't either, I just don't want your dick to not like work anymore man, I swear it's gonna die of boredom if y-" He was cut short by yunho getting out of the car and slamming it shut. But little did mingi know that he was right.

The party just started and you can already smell the sweat and alcohol from the people actively dancing to the music. Mingi spots his target for the night and walks towards her, leaving yunho alone like always.

"Yunho hi!" He spins around and sees Gina waving at him, he could not believe how good she looked tonight, maybe Mingi was right.

"Hey Gina, how are you doing?" He asks, they continue to talk and during the time they were talking yunho got quite drunk, swallowing another shot after another. He did not miss the way Gina was lookin' at his adam's apple everytime he swallowed the liquid.

As the night went on Gina and yunho started to dance against each other, by that it means Gina is basically grinding up against yunho his crotch, yunho really needs to hold himself from chasing the friction when Gina stepped away. "Gin, why did you move" He whines "you aren't here with your head yun, I'm not gonna fuck someone if they are drunk" when Gina wants to move away further yunho grabs her arm "please, please Gina I really need It right now" she just shakes her head and leaves.

That was the end of another failed night, "sorry man, I really thought she was into you" mingi says with a apologetic smile, but it ain't really helping that he has a girl around his shoulder, ready to take her home with him "sure mingi, it's okay" yunho is kind of jealous of how easy mingi can get girls to fuck him, even without the use of alcohol. .

The car ride home was silent and when they arrived at the apartment yunho says goodnight to mingi and his female friend and calls it a night. Putting in his earplugs for the noise that is about to come out of the other room.

The next day when yunho wakes up the girl is already gone, mingi is sitting on the couch watching some anime. "Yu, I have a great plan for tonight!" Mingi says excitedly "no mingi not again, I'm not gonna be embarrassed again" "no I promise, it's a place all the girls will love you!!" Yunho looks at mingi with a unbelievable expression on his face "sure mingi, where is it? In the sky next to the unicorns and rainbows?" Mingi rolls his eyes "stupid ass, you just need to give them some money and they are gonna love you, we are going to midnight desire"

Yunho stops his tracks "the stripclub? Mingi don't you think that's a little much, it feels like you are more desperate than me" "nooo, come on man it will be fun, just make sure you are ready to go at 6 pm with some cash in your pockets" and with that mingi walks out of the door, probably going to the A.T.M to get some cash.

The evening hits and yunho and mingi are walking to the club, it's in the city and they live a 15 minute walk away from it. Yunho did think of it to go there a few times earlier but didn't want to seem so desperate, but now mingi said so it was technically not his plan to go there. After a little while mingi points at the neon red sign above the door.

The entrance looks pretty crappy, but once you're inside it's like heaven. The red velvet carpet, women in tight lingerie that is barely covering anything walking around and trying to seduce as many men as they can. Which is quite easy.

Mingi tells yunho to take a seat In the downstairs area, he chose the seat directly in front of the stage with the dancing pole. A woman walks up to him, a gorgeous young woman with white lingerie. Yunho being the man he is get exited. He looks at you, truly at you and not your body. His ears begin to turn red and he flashes you a smile.

"Hi cutie, what's your name?" You aks him sweetly while settling on his lap, "y-yunho?" You giggle "why are you saying it like its a question yuyu" his heart races at the nickname. He had never seen such a perfect girl in his life. "Haha, well just caught off guard by this pretty lady sitting on my lap, what's your name?" He asked sweetly.

"Its Cherry" "is that your real name?" You shake your head "no, but can't tell you my real name sweetheart, company policy. But oh well, I got to go again. have Keep the other customers busy too" you say with a wink. From that 2 minute conversation you already know you have him wrapped around your finger. Just need to extra sway your hips and he'll call you right back over again.

"Wait Cherry!" You smirk, and ofcourse you were right "yes yunho?" God the way his name rolls of your tongue makes his eyes roll back. "Do you give lap dances?" "I do, why? are you interested?" You say whilst touching up is arm. "I am" "okay then follow me yuyu"

He most definitely follows you to the private room, taking a seat in the chair. "Do I need to explain the rules?" You ask sweetly "yes please, I do not want to step on your boundaries ofcourse" "the rules aren't that much, just no touching without permission and touching means squeezing my boobs, grabbing my ass but not pushing your fingers in me. That is not allowed at al. Which is a shame" you say while looking at his slim and long fingers resting on the sides of the chair "and ofcourse no fucking and this will only go on one song. However you can call me whatever you want" yunho nods, "are you comfortable with me touching you baby?" His voice is low, much lower than when you talked to him in the other room. You lean forward, whispering in his ear "just for you I am" and that sure made his dick twitch in his pants.

You start the song and settle on his lap, slightly starting to move your hips In a steady pace. yunho immediately groans and throws his head back "keep going baby, your doing so good"

After a good 30 seconds later yunho's hands get a hold of your waist. His eyes looking at how pretty his hands wrap around your body, at this point to really start to get into it. You slowly drop to your knees and look up at him. In a swift motion you turn around and slowly stand up again, putting your ass as far out as you can. You settle on his lap again and grab his hands, while holding eye contact you put them on your breasts "you don't have to be so shy yuyu" you say "mhmm, I do baby. I have to hold back so hard I just want to kiss so bad" "I never said you couldn't kiss me"

His hands keep playing with your breasts and he starts kissing your neck, you lean your head to the side to give him more excess. You feel his dick growing harder and harder against your panties and you realize this isn't even a Lap dance anymore. It's just a very touchy make out session. Yunho starts to bite your sensitive skin, as much as you absolutely love it you have to pull away "sorry handsome, you can't mark me, I need to get back on the workfloor soon and if they see you marked Me they will all want to do that" yunho groans at your statement. He kind of forgot that you were doing this for your job. "Y'know you can just come over to my place later, I won't tell your boss" He says while still kissing and licking your neck and other areas.

"Oh?, and what would we do there then" "don't play dumb baby, I know you know it" you giggle "no, I think you need to explain it to me" yunho pulls back and looks you in the eye "i would fucking eat you out till you're ready to be fucked, and I will need to stretch you out baby. Cuz I'm big" and that was is for you, your panties are definitely wetter then with any other client. "Mhmm sure you are, I think I can handle it" you say, pushing yourself down more so now you are directly sitting on his dick. He suddenly grabs your hips with a tight grip and starts to move you to feel the friction. "If you don't tell me to stop, I will fucking have you take me in this chair"

You stay silent.

"That's what I thought" he picks you up and sets you roughly in the chair. He pulls your panties of and smirks at what he sees "mmh so I wasn't the only one enjoying myself, already so wet for me" He puts his hands on your tighs to spread them further apart, your pussy clenches because of the sudden cold air hitting it when Yunho pulls your panties down. "Yunho please, just start already" He loves seeing you desperate, "tell me your name first" he says "seriously, my name? That's what matters now?" "Yes, what else should I say out loud when your bouncing on my dick" "my God, it's y/n" you say.

Not even a second later he dives in, he's sucking on your sensitive bud, "yun- omg" you take his hair in your hand and push him closes to you. "Mhmm, you taste so sweet y/n" the vibrations of his voice make you want to come at this moment, "yunho stop talking or I swear I am gonna cum on your face" "who says I don't want that" "I don't want that, I want those damn fingers in me first"

He looks up at you and brings his index and middle finger to your lips, "make them wet for me then" you gladly obey and suck on his finger to make them nice and wet, a little later he pulls them out and there comes a little pop sound out of your mouth.

"Are you sure?" He asked, you nod and that's all the confirmation he needs. He enters you and immediately hits the right spot, once he feels you are stretched out enough he begins to quicken his pace, seeing his finger go in and out of you makes his erection painfully hard. "Yunho please" "please what baby? You need to explain" "please go faster, I'm so close" and he obeys. The steady pace pulls you over the line, cumming all over his hand and lower arm. "YU- Oh GO-" yunho quickly puts his hand over your mouth to prevent you from speaking "y/n baby you need to speak quietly, otherwise your coworkers will hear us" you just nod because yunho kept his hand on your mouth.

"Need to get you ready too, sit down" you demand, yunho gladly obeys and you pull his pants and underwear down, his cock springs free and it is indeed very big, he did not lie. You spit on your hand and grab the base of his cock, slowly starting to move up and down. He groans and throws his head back, bucking his hips up to chase the feeling when you remove your hand. You take the tip of his cock in your mouth and start to swril your tongue around it. Yunho grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes you down unexpectedly, making you choke on his member. The vibrations of it make yunho go insane "If you keep going like this baby I will cum in your mouth in no time" and with that you start to quicken your pace and bob your head up and down. The tip of yunho's dick constantly hitting the back of your throat, you hum at the feeling and not long later yunho his seed shoot out of him, directly into your throat. He pulls out but refuses to spill Any of his cum out of you mouth.

He grabs you chin and makes you look at him "swallow it all" and you do. In one big gulp all of his cum is swallowed and the sight of that makes yunho hard again.

"Get up baby" He says, gently gripping your sides and putting you on his lap, positioned right on his semi hard dick. He feels your liquids dripping over his cock. He kisses you on the mouth for the first time, you can still faintly taste yourself when he starts to use his tongue.

"Are you ready?" He asks against your lips "i don't have a condom" He quickly adds, "that's okay, I'm on birth control and plus raw is always better" the last part you whispered in his ear.

He did not need to hear more, he gently pushes his large cock into your entrance. You whine at the stretch. After a while he is finally all the way in and you feel like you are gonna get ripped apart. He is whispering sweet words to make you forget the painful stretch and it's working. Yunho looked down to your belly and he could see the outline of the tip of his cock. He runs his hand over it and can't believe how much he loves it. "God baby your so tiny I can see my fucking dick poking out of you" He groans.

After admiring you he finally starts to move, bucking his hips slowly at first. You take a grip of yunho's shoulders, trying your best to keep quiet "baby you can bite my shoulder, to keep quiet" He says, its like he reads your mind. You bite the erea where his neck and shoulder meet, you must look like a fucking vampire rn but you don't care one bit, especially because yunho loves it. He moaned right when you put your teeth in him.

He quickens his pace, the sound of the wet skin slapping against each other fills the room. You bite harder at the feeling. Not long later the white liquid of yunho drips out of your pussy. And it absolutely looked beautifully.

When you came back to your senses a few moments later you realized that this 'lap dance' took more than 45 minutes. You quickly put your panties back on "yunho as much as I absolutely loved this I need to get back! My boss is gonna kill me!" "Oh yes ofcourse, uh, can I have your number maybe?" You gave him your card "next time I'm gonna take my time with you" you say and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Leaving the room right after that.

Yunho quickly put his shirt and other clothes back on and walked out of the room. He sees mingi at the bar, chatting with the bartender. At the exact same spot as yunho saw him last. "Hey can I have a beer please" yunho asked, sitting next to mingi.

"Yoo man, you were gone long how many dances did you pay for man. Not gonna blame you Cherry is hot" yunho pulled the colar of his shirt down to reveal the marks you had left there with a smirk. "No way, you actually got laid. War is over finally" "shut up man, at least I scored a number tonight, you've been chatting with the bartender all night long" mingi laughed "who said I didn't get a number"

The bartender came back with the beer for yunho "here you go, and mingi my shift is over but call me yeah?" He said with a wink. "No way." Yunho said unbelievably.

After a few minutes yunho finished his beer and they stood up, ready to go. He quickly spotted you and you shoot him one last wink before turning around to a other costumer.

"God she's perfect"

This was my first time writing something like this, I know this ain't the shit bur practice makes perfect and please give me tips if you don't like this!! Xx R

[ginsengkitten]

Beautiful Dangerous

༺☆༻

Chapter Thirteen

Sparkplug

PREFACE:

It is now circa 1994. A few years have passed.

-

Slash mindlessly stumbled through the dark room, his attempt to keep his escape quiet was not met with much caution- at this point, he did not entirely care to be caught sneaking out again after another one night stand.

“Leaving now?” Crystal rustled awake and sturdied herself up on her elbow, the sheets twisted around her naked body. Slash didn’t pay her a glance as he buckled his jeans up around his waist in the pitch black. Silence sat in the darkness of the hotel room, with only the muffled motions of slash and the busy streets of LA below. He mumbled his usual, empty “goodbye” and wrapped his jacket around him, already shaking his box of Marlboros in his hand. Crystal accepted his typical departure and collapsed back to sleep as the door clicked shut.

The tour bus for Slashes Snake Pit set to depart LA around 4:30 am. Unusual hours were no stranger to Slash. With the peak of Guns and the beginning of his new side project band- Slash’s Snakepit, his energy was spent thin of romance. In fact, it had been years since something lived in his heart besides ache. It was a heavy sorrow he carried with him and learned to hide well. It had almost broken him apart at first, but when the record label threatened Guns after his stage performances began to suffer from his sorrows, he learned to bury this pain deep inside himself. He nursed himself to a livable health through drugs,whiskey and meaningless sex. He had a couple contenders that met him at his hotels he frequented through tours, but none, such as crystal, were ever privy to real warmth or love in any aspect from him.

With the Guns n Roses tour completed, he could focus in on his project of Slash’s Snakepit. The crew piled on the bus in the early hours and headed out to Dallas TX, for the next leg of the tour.

This was his life. The road, the music, the drugs and the women. All to numb a constant ache. A constant void inside that seemingly never filled. And while he tried time and again to ignore it and move past it, in the rare times that he spent alone in his hotel room or on the bus, his eyes would trace to the nearest window and his thoughts would return to that same single seed of which his pain grew.

Her. Her smile. Her laugh. Her voice.

Her.

No one laughed the way she laughed. No one smiled the way she smiled. No one spoke the way she spoke or sang the way she sang. No one cared the way she cared or played the way she played. No one felt the way she felt. Her body, her eyes, her skin, her touch.

Her.

Unbeknownst to Slash, in the moments that he spent staring off into the window, a familiar pair of eyes also sat, staring, from across the country, also remembering that summer. As if staring at each other through the night sky, a reflection of one another glazed into their minds. A mutual sorrow that tied them together.

-

You turned your gaze down from the night sky. The cool summer night air blew through your skirt and trailed down your exposed legs. Although you didn’t shiver. It felt good to cool off from the stuffy dressing room. Most of the dancers chose to hang around outside in between shows to chat and cool down with a cigarette or count their tips so far. Your group had just finished performing the first act of their new choreography. Practicing for weeks to dial it in. Already the nights earnings completely boasted any in the past week. It was of course in hand also to do with the busyness of the club during the summertime. Lots of tourists came far and wide to visit the club and watch the dancers. Stripclub? No, no this was the infamous dance lounge- ‘Sparkplug’. You never call a sparkplug girl a stripper or you’d get a 6 inch stiletto heel lodged in your ballsack. Sparkplug was a high end dance lounge in the heart of downtown. It had been a nightlife staple since it’s opening as a speakeasy in the 30s. Over time and history, it evolved lengths past your average stripclub. Only big names and big spenders got in, and only the best dancers in the state got hired on. If you were a Sparkplug girl, you were the shit. And you were, and you knew it too. You hadn’t spent years working your talents up for nothing. It’s not a job you ever imagined for yourself but your talent showed otherwise. With no where else to turn, you learned pretty early on to adapt to the needs of the market.

A couple years back, you were taken in by the club owner, a powerful and beautiful woman named Ms. Deetz. But everyone called her Dee, and her partner in crime and equally beautiful, Lucille. Dee had inherited the club through a nasty civil suit about 20 years ago, and had really turned the club into the successful monolith it was today. It was the rattiest, brattiest, loudest club on the block. Cheetah print lined furniture and red velvet walls splayed throughout. A permanent installation of the 80s glam/hair rock scene. The performances catered to the prime 80s rock scene and as such, it was quite the circus. Saturday nights being the rowdiest.

The club was hopping in its typical fashion. A thick layer of smoke lined the room and seeped inwards to the plush and sparkling dressing room. Fellow dancers chattered and yelled amongst each-other in typical banter. Lipstick snatched from one clawed hand to the next, tacky feather boas flayed throughout, sweeping in the breeze of the next girl running past to the stage.

You stared at yourself in your mirror. Polaroids and lipstick decorated the frame narrowly leaving space to actually view oneself. The typical noise drowned to a muffle to you. The woman staring back was a mystery to you. Beautiful- but a mystery. Unsure if this is what you want. Is there something more that you want? Why does this feel so whole and yet so empty?

“-and bettah yet, I bet them guys even be HUNG!” Conversation snapped you from your trance. The girls flushed around the room in an excitement to which you weren’t yet privy to.

“AND - they usually got no wife- no kids, a GHOST of a man!” One girl giggled out deviously. You blinked around to catch up to speed. “What about you babes, you gonna bust your tail feather tonight?!” A mousy but loud girl named clara reed hung herself on your shoulder awaiting your reply. “Yes-?” You reply confused. “What’s all the fuss for huh?” You add. Clara rolls her eyes playfully knowing you hadn’t been listening earlier.

“Couple of bigwigs from a few record labels are here tonight!” Another girl answered excitedly.

Clara nodded in agreement. “Exactly! And you know what that meannnnsss!!” She jovially rubbed her fingers together in a sort of money grabbing ‘cha ching!’ Motion.

“It means you gonna dance your heart out like you all supposed to and DONT get knocked up.” Dee remarked, entering the room clearly privy to the conversation at hand. Another girl rolled her eyes seriously. “That was ONE time Dee!” She puttered off. Dee swept out the clutter of girls clearly jazzed about the prospect of multiple rich old men in the club tonight. It meant good earnings and good times. You were no stranger to this concept, but it was not the most thrilling thing to your heart you admit. Dee came up behind you, appearing in the mirror. She laid a gentle hand on your shoulder as she usually did. Dee offered a sort of unconditional motherly love to all the girls at Sparkplug. Taking in strays and weeding out trouble. One time even shooting a stalker ex boyfriend of Clara’s in the foot. Dee claims self defense and that’s what all the girls agreed on..

“What’s eating you, sugar?” She asked concerned, noticing your energy shifted. You really didn’t have an answer for that. “I’m fine, Dee. You know me.” You retort. Dee huffed in clear disbelief of your usual lie but didn’t have time to challenge it, so she lovingly gave you her squeeze and walked to return to her business quarters in the VIP lounge. Before exiting, she gave an encouraging “get out there and show those old bastards what you really got!”. You exchange cheeky grins and she departed.

Clara returned to your shoulder and topped off the energy with her own excited spurt. “Look atcha darling. Are we gonna rock these fuckers or what?!” She chirped energetically. Infusing you with her enthusiasm. She was right. You were the best dancer there. These old fucks want a show? Let’s give ‘em a show.

[captjprice]

Price X reader, reader is an exotic dancer, but she just have eyes our favorite capt. 🦝

John Price x ExoticDancer!Reader

a/n : this is sosososoos cute

mentions: fluff(?), thigh riding, not really smut, kinda, he's down bad

Only eyes for him

The relationship you had with the captain of Taskforce 141 was… odd. In more ways than one. It wasn´t what most people thought it was, though. As an exotic dancer people often assumed things about you, how could they not? You paraded around in a skimpy outfit and poledanced, so obviously you had to be a whore..

It was quite the opposite, however. The passion you had for dancing in youth stayed with you until adulthood, and you pursued what was probably the best paying job in the industry. Stripper isn´t the word to define you, if you had a say. You don´t STRIP. You dance. And you do it elegantly, and that´s exactly what drew him to you- Fuck. You looked like an angel on earth the first time he saw you. He wished he could go back in time to that exact moment, despite it being one of the worst missions he´d encountered.

John´s earpiece was only noising static as he hurried through the dark city and he had lost the lieutenant somewhere along the way, but he could make out the few words his soldiers were muttering through comm´s.

´´Stripclub in the city center, In the damn stri-´´ Static flooded his ears again, and he whinced. Stripclub it was, then. Price was not the type of man to visit stripclubs, or even that sort of place. Often too loud to be enjoyable, plus his needs would be satisfied alone, and alone only if he had any. He was a Captain, with no distractions. John could hear the loud club music from outside as he made his way there, and he dreaded looking for the target inside. Once inside, he needed to adjust to the lights and music at first, before walking through the club.

Ofcourse, he did look at the women, but only briefly and in a hurry. Nothing could´ve prepared him for the enigma that was you as he stepped towards you. A crowd was gathered around you as you danced, and you seemed to be enjoying the dancing more than the money that was being thrown on stage.

God, you were beautiful. Price wasn´t usually attracted to women that sold themselves, but the way you smiled as you danced told him that you weren´t doing it for attention. Your curves, your hair and that face of yours.. It had him all hooked, stalling for a moment as he watched you. You turn, reaching your hand out as if to lure the crowd in, and oh does it work. Atleast for Price.

But he´s quick to snap himself back to reality, and pushes past the people to further investigate the club for the target.

John thought it´d be done with that- A fleeting glance that made him falter, nothing more. However, as he proceeded to do his job, you were like an annoying voice in the back of his head. A hand still reaching out to lure him in. Every thought that wasn´t strictly work, was you in that pretty little outfit on stage.

He´d palm himself under the desk sometimes, trying to get rid of the aching feeling you gave him. And all these emotions because of what? A single glance? He refused to believe a woman had him wrapped around her finger without even knowing her. It was the stark contrast of what he wanted.

But little did he know, he wasn´t the only one getting hot and bothered because of a stranger. You´d seen him that night, positive he must´ve been police or military. Nobody else hurries in a damn strip club. John was.. exactly what you had envisioned in a man. People often thought you´d go for the richer, sleek types but that wasn´t the case. He was homey and natural. Exactly what you wanted.

Everytime you danced, you´d hope he was there again, but not on business. It was a reach, but you thought you had surely affected him that night. Still, he might be married. With kids. You really prayed he wasn´t..

It´s late at night that John finds himself driving to that club, filled with guilt. He´s not married, or in a relationship so he´s not sure why it feels wrong. Maybe because he´s supposed to be setting an example to his soldiers? He pushes the thought away and walks in, looking totally lost as his eyes search the room for you. You aren´t where you were last time. Are you not performing tonight?

He´s relieved, though, when he sees a group of men further on. That must be you.

He´s right. You´re just finishing up your dance, it seems as you tuck the money into your waistband. Your eyes gaze over everyone again, all seeing horribly familiar men that come here every night.

You falter when you see him, standing like a lost child in the middle of the club staring at you. You can´t help but crack a soft smile, ofcourse he came back. They always do with you. The difference is that he interests you, the others don´t.

You walk off stage and behind the curtains, where you get unready- It´s late after all.

You can´t really feign suprise as John follows after you, watching for a moment before walking up to you. It´s obvious he doesn´t really know how to talk to you, all he knows is that you have him absolutely captivated. You smile slightly and clear your throat. He stares for another few seconds before pulling some money out of his backpocket. "A private dance?" He asks gruffly, holding the money out to you. Ofcourse, you sheepishly take it and lead him to one of the private rooms.

It hadn´t been anything too sexual, just a lap dance that resulted in him pulling you onto his lap, asking questions as he brushed your hair out of your face. It was.. sweet in it´s own way. He was actually interested in you, not just your services.

That´s exactly how you find yourself in the situation you´re in right now, perched on his lap as he gazes at you like some jewel, only his. These meetings between you have been going on for a bit now. His hand rests on the curve of your ass, ocassionally running up to caress your waist as you speak.

"I´m glad it was a good day today, sweetheart." He cooes to you, glancing at the money tucked in your panties. "But you didn´t let any of them touch you, no?" John asks, giving a little squeeze. You shake your head in response. "Course not, only you get the private dances," You say sweetly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It´s not satisfactory for him, it seems. His hand gently grips your chin to turn it towards him.

Until now, the two of you had been.. unlabelled. You kissed sometimes, made out, but it hadn´t gone further than that. Purely because you weren´t sure if you were a woman for the side. He came every so often during the week, but hadn´t asked you out. John really wanted to change that.

"I want you to be mine," John grunts, holding your face towards him. "I am yours." You reply softly, gazing up at him with big eyes. "Not what I mean, love." He counters, letting go of you and leaning back on the couch with a sigh, "Actually mine. Girlfriend. Partner. Lover." John continues, holding onto your hips to shift you a little closer. You can feel your cheeks flush red, and you smile shyly.

Affection from men was not unknown to you, but the way John did it was just so.. different. "I don´t mind your work, yeah? Not at all. I trust you. I just really want us to be.. Us. Not some unlabelled situation." He says softly. He opens his mouth again to continue his sentence, thinking of another way to convince you, but when you lean forward and kiss him it becomes quite obvious to him that you don´t need convincing.

John lets out a low hum as you kiss him, wrapping his arms around you a little tighter. Jesus, he loved you. He was sure. You shift in your position to sit on his thigh, shamelessly grinding against his pants as you kiss him. Your action causes him to pull away and smirk.

"Oh? Needy, love?" John teases, his hands guiding your hips to move against him with a little more pressure. You nod and whine in response, moving back and forth on his leg. "Jus' like that, baby.." He says, looking at where your crotch connect with his leg. You´re soaking through your panties, he can see the damp spot.

You keep going, your eyes flickering shut. Just at that moment, John stops you, making you whine at the loss of contact. He´s grinning. Bastard. "Maybe we should finish this at my place, mmh?" He asks, rubbing your hips. Right. You forgot you were still in the club, not in your own little world with him.. You give a quick nod, moving off of his thigh. John presses a kiss to your temple and gets your jacket.

The drive home was.. interesting.

[theviceadmiralswife]

Salute recruits and soldiers to this still funky Friday ⚓🌊⚓🌊⚓🌊⚓🌊⚓🌊⚓🌊⚓

A good question popped up in my mind with Kizarus birthday yesterday out of nowhere 10 pm ... I'm supposed to sleep.. Doberman comes home tomorrow from a mission but no... my brain is like, must answer this question, now. Ps. I better put a NSFW   after all Kizaru who is undoubtedly the most pervy, lewd and kinky admiral 😛🙃

So here are the top 10 gifts YOU can gift Kizaru for his birthday in no particular order. 

I see you next week I'm off this weekend with hubby Doberman 😍... wish you all a lovely weekend.

• STRIPCLUB. ..mens night out in a strip club, women, wine and "woos" , if your Kizarus darling he drag you with him into the strip club. He gives you booze until your in a good buzz and become More and more open, he will make you go on stage dancing with the strippers it makes Kizarus eyeballs pop out and his fantasy running of what he do to you at home.

• SCENTED CANDLES this one will surprise you all the most but Kizaru is always thrilled to get for his birthday scent candles... he goes bananas for those and loves his house being filled with their aroma, his nose indeed has an exquisite taste.

• YOU /SUBMISSIVE...oh Kizaru loves it when you give yourself as present he can do anything with you for 24 hours, then you be his pet slave for a full day he digs into that and will you parade around Marineford as his pet

• PRIVATE STRIPTEASE ...Kizaru might be partying in the strip club but when it comes to it he prefers when he gets a private show from, do an action packed strip to the song "rock you like a hurricane" and you will end up that night rocking the bed for sure

• LOVESONG he loves when his dearest Darling serenades him for his birthday and after a traditional happy birthday song Kizaru is even more delighted with an additional love song. Move your curvy body while singing "your so sexy" from French affair and Kizarus shades will fog up he can't help but to join moving his hips with you and join in a little sing session 

•  TROLLING PEOPLE.  Kizaru loves it when you join him on his birthday to be extra mischievously with him trolling the troops by groping your breasts in front of everyone and you slap his ass in public, grinding against each other.....best mischief is when both of you take the piss out of Sakazuki like this pretending to make out in a middle of Sakazukis office

•PERSONALISED KINKY SEXTOYS Kizaru is kink,... give him sexy pink shades...as he  gets thrilled if you by for him and yourself matching collar and leash to add to your kinky sex toy collection and he is certainly experienced in using those, sex toys are his favourite tool to annoy prude Sakazuki , or give him one of those clone your own willy dildos for Kizaru to clone his cock, yeah buy 2 packs you need it.. and as soon as Kizaru has his cock cloned he will cheekily coerce you to try it out and give it your approval 

• BODY WORSHIP AND SPA DAY. he soaks it up when you worship his unadulterated hairy hot body, especially his legs, massage them, kiss them rub them...a full round body worship and dirty talk... Kizaru loves it to lay back and be pampered this way including a facial treatment, and massage...ooooh he coos in pleasure if you end the session with some handywork or your lips

• ROMANTIC EVENING  he has a romantic streak somewhere and when you cook set the table for a romantic dinner put candles up everywhere and play soft classic music pouring a glass of delicate fine wine while wearing and elegant dress, Kizaru will just jaw drop and gaffe at you before smiling so happy like you never seen before.. it makes his heart  flutter. to him it hits home when instead of him taking you out to a restaurant you seemingly bring fine dining home looking like a goddess

• BOOKS ...this might be a bit unexpected but even someone as covertly educated and intelligent as Kizaru finds joy in books at his age... for one of those slow moments on his rare day off... ooh but what makes him snicker and giggle like a school girl if you his darling dearest gifts him a copy of the Kamasutra. His eyes grow wide and his lips curl into a lewd smile the more he flips through the pages of the kamasutra book... he reads it that evening in one go with a glass of wine... later that night he has to try out all the positions with you.

[artemisiamezzanotte]

Of all the strip clubs in London, Remus bloody Lupin had to saunter into mine.

I've done a big rewrite of my wolfstar stripclub/emo music fic, But It's Better If You Do.

You can read it on ao3 here.

Complete, 32k words.