summary — the blond man in the club looks too old to be here. unfortunately, that only makes him hotter ᝰ.ᐟ
— cw : female reader, age gap (katsuki late 30s, reader mid 20s), flirting, drinking, pet names, suggestive .ᐟ
"Holy shit"
"I know.
"He's hot"
"I know." you whisper, shovelling the drink down your throat as you throw a glance over your shoulder.
The club reeks of sweat, booze and cheap cologne. The bass rattling so hard you're convinced your ribcage might burst. It's been three hours of this — three hours of shifting weight from one foot to the other as you pretend your feet don't ache.
In all honesty, you'd been looking for an out. Racking every inch of your brain for a reason to drag mina home and spend the rest of your night in your pjs watching sitcoms — that is, until you finally found a reason to stay.
Blonde, tatted and built — and at minimum twice your age. Tucked away in a corner booth with his arm slung over the leather seat, the other clutched around a glass of amber liquor.
He looks grumpy, angry. Like someone dragged him away from his regularly scheduled programming to be here, and he was not happy about it.
His gaze barely wavers from one spot on the dance floor, scowl permanently etched on his face as the sight forces him to sip his drink. Your eyes follow his, every inch of you praying he wasn't on guard for some woman tucked between the writhing bodies.
Instead, you catch a glimpse of three men as dangerously out of place as he is — you can only imagine that they're his friends.
They look too grown to be here. broad shoulders shoved in dark button-ups, watches glinting beneath the flashing lights while they stumble over their own feet — flirting with women who cling to them like accessories.
The redhead of the group looks towards the blonde in his drunken stupor, yelling that "he's got another one coming" — yeah, they're his friends alright.
And he does — two at that.
Two women in short dresses brushing their fingers over his inked arm. he's respectful, but certainly not fazed — barely sparing them a glance as he nods along.
The conversation doesn't last a minute longer; the two of them sent off with a scoff and flat expressions, already scanning for their next target.
Mina's eyes are already on yours when you turn toward her, reaching for your drink as she smiles in his direction.
"Looks like it's now or never," she says.
Your breath catches when you're met with crimson eyes staring back, taunting and expectant — like he's been watching you longer than you realized.
He's waiting.
The glass in his hand does nothing to hide the smile on his face, light catching on the crystalline rim as he watches you expectantly. Every step feels like a beckon, willing you with the glow of his irises and the slight spread of his legs to come just a little closer.
Like you're the one being tested.
The booth feels like the only quiet spot in the club. Music and drunken chatter dulling out from your senses — until suddenly all that's left is him.
He's bigger up close. Veins trace his forearm under the low light as he swirls his drink. your eyes catch on the brazen ink — thick, intricate lines curling over every muscle.
"I like your tattoos" you say, elbows resting on the table as you try to ignore how suddenly out of place you feel.
His mouth twitches into a toothy grin, scowl once dominating his face all but gone as it's replaced by a sharper look — he's intrigued.
"Yeah? you like them?" he leans back, eyes dragging over you before it flicks back up to your face, "Means a lot coming from a pretty girl like you."
"Hm" you hum, smile matching his even as you falter under the weight of the new pet name, "They're… hot"
He lets out a quiet exhale, almost a laugh.
"The tattoos?" he tilts his head "… Or me?"
He doesn't wait for your answer. Instead, he trails a thick finger over the skin, pushing his sleeves high enough to expose the ink disappearing beneath his shirt.
Your hand reaches out before you can think, barely grazing his arm before—
"Careful," he warns, voice husky beneath the music, a roughness that hits your ears at just the right tone to make your thighs squeeze, "Some of these are older than you, pretty"
That does it.
"Really?" you tease, fingers now fully tracing the outline of his tattoo, "Is that supposed to scare me?"
You don't miss the way his eyes widen just slightly — gaze flicking to his friends who've seemingly been paying no mind to him all night — before they land on your lips.
a/n: new layout i’m playing around with, im not 100% sold but bare with me 🙂↕️ - @lonelyfooryouonly ... lwk gonna use the taglist the next time i post
masterlist. | join the taglist? comments and reblogs greatly appreciated! 💋
blakekathryn
andulkaphoto
tangentwithtanner
theartofmadeline
dailybridgerton
janainaart
