𝗝𝗝𝗞 𝗫 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥! 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗥 𝗔𝗨!
⇎⇎⇎
𝗔 𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬 𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛
⇎ a young woman working as a bartender meets a man that reeks of secrets, not knowing the depth of the truth he holds.
(original artwork from karorarora on twt...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
⇏⇏⇏ $ ⇍⇍⇍
The world faded out into black,
befuddling thoughts scurrying in the forefront of your mind as you refilled glass after glass, not paying any attention to what you were doing.
"My turn?" You kept repeating Gojo's words in your mind, the entire scenario replaying in a hazed vision as you wondered: What the fuck did that mean?
You sighed out exasperatedly, the pulsing of your fluttering heartbeat was impossible to ignore - something you ridiculed yourself for. Finding yourself hopelessly excited by something so tawdry was the furthest from what you'd expected.
But Choso returning onstage, his body sweaty and swollen, was the start of the end for you.
"Now, I know you pretty ladies are sad the show is almost over," Choso hummed out with a feigned melancholy expression, bottom lip pouting out. Groans from the crowd ensued before he continued, "But we saved our best for last, yeah?"
Intoxicated lust seared through hearts, fantasies swelling in each soul as the tensions rose for the last time that night. "God, I can't take another minute," Nobara spoke as she kept her eyes glued to the stage. "I might pounce."
You nodded mindlessly with a blank expression in response, anticipation coursing through your veins like a heavy drug. There was no amount of preparation that would suffice for what came next.
"I know you've been waiting so patiently," Choso spoke lowly, rough rasps painting his voice. "Comin' up, the infamous Getou!
Getou.
The name rang out in alarm bells in your mind as you furrowed your brows, confusion stuttering inside of your chest like a broken record.
Flashes of the past enveloped your brain: the slumped way he was sitting at the bar, the ink-painted muscles on full display, his coarse voice as he huffed a thin cigarette.
He's a stripper?
Shock left your nerves shot, pulse pumping profoundly like a metronome. The gape-mouthed expression you wore plastered on your face wouldn't budge, eyes animatedly wide as you shook with anticipation.
Melodies faded into the club room, a sultry introduction to the man who would burn the path to your newfound indecency. It was a trivial connection the two of you had, but the way your eyes glimmered with lust towards him spoke for itself.
Those same angled tattoos stuck out on his chest beneath a faded leather jacket, muscles swollen and chiseled like a marble statuette as he sauntered imperiously to the front of the stage.
