loserboy! satoru truther

normal people usually do something relaxing when they want to take a break from a grueling week of work. well, you and enjin are far from being normal people, because this is your scene— a shady-looking club in the shadiest part of town, a rundown warehouse that could only be classified as a huge, barely-standing safety hazard.

if the beat of the music hit a wall the wrong way, the whole thing would certainly tumble down like a jenga tower, but there’s not a single person in there who’s aware of their surroundings, mind heavily dazed by one party favor or the other.

the bouncer let you in almost instantly, the line of people waiting by entrance throwing a fit as you flashed the guy a smile (an enjin slid a twenty in his hand).

there’s many other people you could ask to come to the club with you, but none of them bring the vibe you need quite like enjin— he knows what you like, is what you tell yourself.

as soon as you step in, you both make a beeline for the bar for the mandatory couple of shots you need to get the night started. you cringe at the sight of other patrons idling by the counter with their forearms resting atop the wooden surface. the rash you got that one time from the sticky mixture of substances was a very important lesson for you.

with two shots down and a comforting warmth left in your throat, you try to find a spot in the crowded dance floor that you can claim. “see anything?” you nudge enjin’s side with your elbow, growing somewhat impatient since you know the dj’s going to start playing good music soon.

“girl, it’s packed,” enjin quips, patting his ribs just to be dramatic. “girl, you’re six feet stupid, make yourself useful,” you volley right back. he rolls his eyes, then turns his head to survey the area once more. you zone out for a second, and the next you’re being dragged through the crowd.

enjin’s shoulders are wide enough to pave the way for you, though you still bump into some bodies, too lost in the tunes - and definitely something else - to even have any semblance of spatial awareness in them. his big hand is laced with yours, and you try so hard to not let your slightly altered brain stray to any improper thoughts.

not yet.

“does your majesty like it over here?” enjin asks, loud enough for you to hear him over the loud music. he managed to flesh out a spot near one of the booths, the floor slightly elevated, a makeshift railing separating the area from the main one.

“awww, jin! see, i know you could get the job done!” you pat his cheek twice, grinning wide. you see the bulge of his tongue rolling over the inside of his cheek, before his head jerks to the side, trying to bite your hand. you screech, withdrawing just in time, and debate if you should punch him square in the stomach when he barks out a laugh.

“you’re the worst!” you glare up at him, only to be met by half lidded, golden eyes peering down at you, the sarcastic “uh-huh” on his lips ringing so loud in your head even if it’s completely muted by the loud beat. you’re still deciding whether you want to continue this petty back and forth when the dj makes the decision for you, blasting one of your favorite songs.

and enjin watches it happen right before his eyes, your face changing from a grumpy glare to a radiant smile, eyes growing big and sparkly as you spin on your heels to start hooting along with the crowd. now it’s his turn to do what he does best— match your energy.

that’s how the two of you spend the first hour, singing at the top of your lungs, the usual playlist that blasts through the speakers one that you’ve memorized by now. he keeps you close when your small spot begins to get more crowded, but he takes the responsibility to watch out upon himself, making sure you can enjoy your night without worrying about one single thing.

though it’s hard to keep it together when you rub all up on him like a cat in heat, back flush against his front, gyrating to the beat. you use the railing as leverage, ass moving in rhythmic circles that get him hypnotized.

his hand finds your waist almost instinctively, inked finger hooked around one of your belt loops, his only semblance of stability in case he passes out. enjin still tries his damn best to catch everything you throw his way, hips rolling in sync with yours, bucking upwards every time your ass came down.

it doesn’t take long for the silly dancing around to get heated. when the tune shifts to something slower and intimate, enjin gets bolder. he uses your belt hoop to haul you closer, free hand snaking around your side, large palm splayed along your ribs with his thumb stopping only shy of the underside of your breast.

he doesn’t hear your gasp but he feels it, the way your breath hiccups, a slight tremble in your shoulder. he loves it when you fit so pretty and perfect against him, bodies falling into a familiar harmony.

your arm slithers upwards, wrapping around enjin’s neck, your head falling against his collarbone while he buries his nose in your hair. his breathing is heavier, and you know it’s not only because of the heat, or the dancing— his hard-on is quite impossible to ignore, and with all your squirming around, you’re not exactly helping the situation.

and as much as you’d love to taunt him until he basically has to rip you away from the place and brings you back to HQ - if he can even resist all the way there - your parched throat becomes your number one issue.

“i’m so fucking thirsty!” you whine, making your chapped lips pop a couple times as you turn around to face him. you gotta give it to him, he’s very good at hiding the fact that he’s currently dying with a raging boner. “i’ll go get something,” he points his thumb in the direction of the bar. “you try not to get kidnapped or anything, ‘kay?”

“mhm, yes sir,” you purr, nuzzling your nose into the curve of his jaw. enjin knows you’re just being cute because he’s giving you what you want, but he can’t deny that he absolutely loves it.

you idle around while waiting for him, chatting up a girl and dancing a couple songs with her since you figure the line for the bar’s got to be insane at this hour. when enjin finally makes it back, the color of the drinks he’s holding is already a couple shades lighter, melted ice cubes watering down further whatever concoction is contained in the plastic cups.

“thank youuu,” you sing-song when he hands you the drink, lips immediately wrapping around the thin straw to take in a big, freezing gulp. the liquor leaves a trail of liquid fire from your tongue down your throat, your nose curling into a grimace at the absolute foul taste.

“god, this tastes like shit,” you cough out weakly. “i love it.”

after a couple sips you resume your ministrations, like enjin’s chest was a magnet for your back. he is absolutely mesmerized by the way you look, the way you move. the hand that’s not full with his cup is splayed over the small of your back, keeping you all pretty and arched as you whine your hips right against his crotch once more. it’s almost like you love to torture him like this— well, he knows you do.

so he decides to double down, make you taste a bit of your own medicine. his hand slides up your back, fingers coming to hold your hair in a makeshift ponytail and move it out of the way. you straighten up, head starting to move to the side to ask what he was doing, before he stopped you.

the cold plastic cup came in contact with the nape of your neck, your body instinctively wincing from the sudden change in temperature, then you melted into the refreshing sensation. enjin watches the droplets of condensation that were clinging to the plastic transfer to your skin, mixing with your sweat.

when he withdraws the cup, he’s quick to replace it with his tongue, licking along the cool patch all the way to the side of your throat. you try to muffle a noise, but he feels it rumbling in your chest, and the clench of your thighs is another giveaway.

oh, how he wishes it he could hear it over the deafening music, your soft, breathy ”jin…” when you become a needy little thing. he goes over the same strip of skin, this time with languid, wet kisses, biting into the juncture between your shoulder and neck— a promise.

he can’t hear you but he sure can see how worked up you’re getting with all your squirming around. you back your ass into him, but you’ve already tortured him enough. and you don’t have even half of the self control he has.

“awww, someone’s getting antsy,” he chuckles into your ear, gripping your hip to stop you. “be nice, and maybe i’ll take you back. we’ve barely been here for a couple hours, you really want to call it a night so soon?”

you look back at him from over your shoulder, lips curled into the cutest little pout. “jin…”

there it is.

you fully turn to face him, pretty tits squished against his chest as your hands interlink behind his neck. “wanna go back?” you offer, sugar-sweet words dripping from your tongue. long, inked digits dance along the curve of your ass, your hip, pretending he’s actually pondering on the question.

“are you gonna scurry away after you get what you want, pretty girl?” he taunts, the flicker of vulnerability gone as fast as it flashed behind his honey pools. “i’ll stay,” you mouth, parted lips moving against his own after you tug him close.

tonight, you’ll stay until the morning. next time? who knows.

┊┊a/n. og idea from the great mind of the lovely @lxnarphase, with my own added twist :p i miss throwing ass in the club icl