eyes on me
Dancer!Reader x Bartender!Geto
౨ৎ cont: suguru geto x fem! reader, unprotected, first time squirt, oral f!receiving, confessions.
౨ৎ word count: 4.5k
౨ৎ a/n: my life blood ty to whoever reads < 3
It’s been an awful night. Smoke clings to your skin, hair, teeth, and tongue as you come back into the club from the backdoor. Just a quick break, allowing nicotine to ease the tension in your brain. The head rush gives you just a moment’s respite, but it’s quickly overtaken the moment you step back into the club. The neon lights that adorn the walls flicker. It only serves to emphasize your mood, and it’s the most sour of moods. All thanks to the countless men who have touched despite the “no touching” rule and the incessant requests.
“Let’s meet after you get off work.”
“If I give you $1000 can we fuck?”
“I’ll slide a little bit more your way if you take care of this problem.”
It’s gross. More than that, it makes you feel dirty.
It’s the same every night. Same sleazy men, with the same revolting dispositions. You’re just here to dance, something you love doing, to make a little money for college. It’s simple. It should be easy. You’re great at it.
But, as you have the bouncer throw out another handsy client, it doesn’t feel as easy as it once did.
You hate it. It burns in your chest. You’ve been dancing here for almost eight months, and it’s starting to wear on you. Your head is spinning, tunnel-visioned on getting out. Gotta get out. Gotta get-
“Somethin’ wrong?” Calls the bartender, perceptive as you shake your head, snapping out of the daze you were in.
“Nothin’, just the usual. It’s been a lot of scum these past few weeks,” you sigh, relieved to be talking to a friend.
“You seem pretty frazzled. Need some water?” He offers as he wipes down the bar.
It’s 10 minutes to closing time and the only clients left are the filthy stragglers who frequent the club every night. The bouncers make their rounds, cleaning house as they urge the clients to leave.
“You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here,” you hear one of them say.
You nod, sitting down across the bar. A tall glass is slid to you, ice cold with condensation already frosting the outside. You take big gulps, your anxiety from the night calming slightly the longer the liquid slides down your throat.
Suguru Geto never offers you drinks on the clock. He knows to take care of his girls. But, with the way you’re feeling, a real drink sounds better than nice.
“Suguru,” you say, and he turns his head to meet your gaze.
“I need a drink.”
He looks at you pointedly and sighs.
“You’re still on, princess. You know I can't serve you.”
“I’m off in 10. Let me have it just this once. I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t serious.”
Suguru is a principled man. He believes in what he believes, and it’s nearly impossible to sway him. So when he says “no alcohol,” he means it. You groan, finishing your water.
“Wanna talk about it?” He asks after a beat of comfortable silence, taking your empty glass and setting it to the side.
“Not really,” you admit, laying your head on your arms. “Seven minutes. Then I’ll take my drink.”
Suguru frowns, but eventually relents, nodding. You watch as he cleans the leftover glasses from the night, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, signature one lock falling in his left eye. Suguru is good-looking, you think, but you’d never sleep with a coworker. Your job is already dramatic enough, no need to add fuel to the fire. Nevertheless, you quietly admire him as you wait for the time to pass.
“Five minutes gives me enough time for a dance,” you say, “Need to end this night on a good note.”
Suguru hums, eyes never leaving the glass he’s drying.
“Watch me?”
When you ask this, you don’t know why. Suguru is nice to you, sweet. He cares about all the girls at the club. Perhaps you want to share your love with your friend. You really do love dancing, you think, as you walk up the steps of the stage.
The DJ spots you and puts a song on, something unhurried, languid, smooth like silk. You bring yourself up around the pole, two arms locked on tight as you swing your legs up. Your legs twist in a familiar way as you spin, slowly, letting your body fall backward as you grab the metal with your hands. You hang upside down now, legs crossed above your head. The way you move is easy— intentional— like this is something you were made for. You kick off, one leg at a time, arms holding still against the metal as you spin, slowly, fluidly like water. A glance at the bar tells you Suguru is watching just as you’d asked. Eyes closing, you continue to dance.
Your song ends and you walk back down the stairs, eyes gazing at your feet.
As you walk up to Suguru, you notice he’s returned to cleaning up the bar. You tap your nails on the bar, quirking an eyebrow up at him to get his attention. He looks up, with that damned crooked grin.
“You watched me.”
“Beautiful as ever.”
You give him a soft smile, but it’s quickly dropped as your lips are pulled into a tight line. He notices this and sighs.
“Fine,” he starts, “what’ll you take?”
You hum, pleased. He rolls his eyes.
“Vodka soda, pretty please.”
Suguru makes the drink easily, setting it in front of you with a cocktail napkin underneath. You bring the glass to your lips, relishing in the feeling of the alcohol hitting your tongue. You don’t stop: tipping your head back, letting the drink fill your mouth and slide down your throat. A bit spills out of the corner of your lips and you stop, the heel of your hand tenderly wiping up the stream. The way your lipstick smudges is not lost in Suguru’s gaze, as his eyes flick between your lips and your hand.
“Easy, princess,” he warns, handing you a fresh napkin. You take it graciously and dab down your chin and chest where the drink spilled.
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you answer curtly.
“I think you do.”
You regard him for a moment, a nasty side eye as he looks at you with that same damned smile. His eyes are so soft, so inviting. You consider it, as he stands there, letting you drink instead of closing up. The way he calls you princess, only you, the way he is always always there to lend you a shoulder. It’s just so easy for Suguru to break down your walls.
“I’m tired, Suguru.”
You hang your head, drawing circles on the bar counter.
“Tired?” He asks, giving you an opportunity to explain.
“With- with everything. I can’t just sit here and be demeaned all night every night. It’s exhausting,” you start, pushing your drink away. He grabs it and puts it off to the side. You don’t need the liquid courage for this now, you’re in the safe company of a friend.
The club has been emptied by now, most of the lights turned off as the dim bulb of the bar hangs above you. Your breath shakes, and you wrap your arms around yourself.
“I know,” Suguru’s eyes soften, “I know.”
“I love to dance, and I need the money– the money isn’t even that good, it just-” you trail off, unsure of how to voice your anxieties.
“I can’t keep doing this.”
“Then quit,” he says simply.
“It’s not that easy, Suguru-”
“I know. Sorry, bad advice,” he supplies.
You say it’s okay, that he’s not your therapist or your life coach or anything of the sort. He shakes his head and flicks the light switch, leaving you two in the dark of the closed club.
“Want to go for a drive?” He asks, your eyes adjusting to the dark finally as you make out his form.
“Yeah.”
–
You find yourself, dressed back in your daytime clothes, in the passenger seat of Suguru’s Jeep. Black interior, black exterior. This guy really has a vibe, you think. You throw your duffel in the back seat when you sit down, and Suguru turns the key, engine roaring to life. You don’t question where you’re going; you don't care where you're going. You roll the window down, feeling the wind hit your face. You close your eyes, remembering easier times. Suguru glances at you, and rolls his own window down.
He drives, out of the city, and neither of you speak. The dying night’s air kisses your cheeks and ruffles your hair, sparring a bit of hope in your chest. It blooms, like love, and you watch the moon be chased down into the day. You hope and hope, tossing your frustrations away as each leak of light peeks higher in the skyline behind you.
“I don’t want to be tired anymore,” you say into the wind. If Suguru hears you, you don’t know.
He just drives, out and up.
–
You arrive at a plateau, abandoned in the dawn. The clouds are down far below your feet, orange skies breaking through the fog. You hop out of the car, sneakers hitting the gravel with a crunch. It makes the breath leave your lungs, the view. You turn, facing Suguru, your hair blowing around your face. He pauses as he comes around the front of the car, looking at you. His eyes are soft, as they always are. You tear your gaze away and look down at the city, far beyond the clouds, as the sun comes up over the horizon.
“I like to come here sometimes, when I’ve got too much on my mind,” he says, breaking the silence.
“I can see why.”
Suguru comes to your side, shoving his hands deep in his pockets.
There is a chill in the air and you wrap your arms around yourself, tucking your nose into the collar of your hoodie.The two of you fall into another comfortable silence, the air stilling around you two. You lean up against the hood of the car, feeling the heat radiate off of it, warming your bones.
Suguru inhales, and exhales. He inhales again. In a rare display of vulnerability, he speaks.
“You can’t let them get to you,” he starts; your name leaves his lips in a whisper. “They don’t mean anything, all those guys. You can’t let them break you.”
You look at him, and he looks ahead.
“It’s getting too hard to ignore,” you reply, frowning.
You look forward again, tearing your gaze away from his profile, face illuminated in the orange glow of the sunrise.
“I think I need to quit dancing.”
“Don’t. That was bad advice,” Suguru says, chuckling.
“I’m serious.”
He looks at you now, eyes softer than you’ve seen.
“You’re the most beautiful dancer.”
You tear your eyes away, staring at the sun. You squint, pulling your hoodie up over your nose this time. It’s funny. You can still see the stars in the sky, even as the sun comes up. It chases the night away, and you feel a warmth in your chest. A once-spirited young girl, broken by the brutality of her field. You sigh, letting it go, chased away by the day just as the stars were. Letting the hoodie fall below your chin, you look back at Suguru and find him still looking at you. His eyes roam your face, not scrutinizing, memorizing. As you open your mouth to speak, he shakes his head.
“You don’t have to say anything.”
–
Suguru drives you home. The drive is quiet, save for the low music. You play the conversation in your head over and over, mulling over what you should do. When he pulls in front of your apartment complex, you turn, facing him.
“I won’t quit,” you say, eyes fiery and newly determined.
“Good,” he smiles, “I’d miss you too much.”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” you laugh, the first genuine one in a good while.
“You’re makin’ me soft, princess.”
You shake your head.
“Why do you insist on calling me that?” You ask, your stomach doing somersaults as he gazes at you with that stupid, dopey, lopsided grin and those half-lidded eyes.
“You’re my favorite girl,” he supplies simply, like it’s so obvious.
“I bet you tell all the girls that,” you scoff.
“Nope. Only you,” he chuckles, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger on your skin a little bit too long to just be a friendly gesture. It’s tender, and there’s this look in his eye you don’t want to acknowledge.
You swallow. Sure, Suguru is smoking fucking hot but he’s also your coworker, which could make things awkward. You really don’t want another reason to hate work. But, you decide to throw caution to the wind, and see what happens. He’s your friend. He could be more. You shiver.
“Promise?” You ask, blinking twice. You stick your pinky out for good measure.
He loops his pinky in yours, shaking his head and laughing softly, the sound making you smile.
“Promise.” He raises your hands, placing a kiss on your interlocked fingers. Your heart just about stops at that, the gesture so… unlike what you’d expect from him. It has your mind reeling, thinking about what Suguru would act like as a boyfriend.
“Suguru…” you say, low as you hold each other’s gazes, the air suddenly charged with something.
“I’m going to kiss you now.”
A response catches in your throat and you nod, helpless. He leans in, cupping your cheek with his hand, and you instinctively move forward, lips parting. He’s so close you can feel his breath. He hesitates, eyelids fluttering closed, before he finally, finally presses his lips to yours. You feel like your mouth molds to his, and in an instant, you’re clutching at the nape of his neck, threading your fingers through his hair. He hums, the sound low as it rumbles through you, and you squeeze your eyes closed tighter, scared it’ll be over soon. It seems as if Suguru has no intention of stopping, as he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip. You gasp into the kiss, it feels so right to be kissing Suguru like this, and he slips his tongue into your mouth, prodding gently at your tongue. You about cry when he pulls away, a strangled sound leaving your lips. He just smiles, still leaned in close as he presses a soft kiss to your lips.
“Come inside,” you exhale.
“I would’ve waited years to hear you say that. I’m so glad I didn’t have to.”
–
It’s easy, with Suguru. He’s peeling your hoodie off, lips connecting to yours the moment your head is freed. He’s got one hand splayed out over the small of your back, pulling you closer, closer, closer. Your hands fiddle with the zipper on your skirt and he slips his free hand under it to cup your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. His hand snakes up your spine, stopping at your bra to unhook it with nimble fingers and helping you shed it from your front. His hand slides around you, thumb grazing the underside of your breast. He cups it now, kneading at the soft flesh. Your hands tangle in his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingers.
It’s just so easy. He kisses you like he’s taking care of you. The morning pours through the blinds in your room, dust trickling through the leaks of light. He lays you down, lips never separating from yours as your head hits the pillow. He pulls away to look at you, and he groans. His hair falls all around your face, framing both of you in inky black.
“You. You can’t even see yourself,” he says, low and surprisingly breathless.
You forego words for a shake of your head, and you inhale shakily.
“You’re one to talk…”
He chuckles, head dipping down to the crook of your neck, the sound reverberating throughout you. You always thought it was easier in the dark, but something about the soft light of the early morning feels just… so surreal. You tip your head to the side, letting his lips roam your neck, nipping at the soft skin.
His hand comes up, rolling your nipple between his forefinger and thumb, while his lips travel down your neck, to your collarbone, to your opposite breast, taking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the bud. You arch yourself into him, your moans only spurring him on.
“That fuckin’ sound…” he groans against your breast. “Do it again…” he attaches his lips back to your nipple, teeth grazing it ever so gently and you whine.
He must’ve liked that because he's slipping his hand in between your thighs. His fingers press against your clothed center, feeling how wet you are through your panties. He can’t help himself, it seems, as he kisses down your stomach, head finding its place between your thighs. He inhales deeply, nose pressed against your cunt just aching with need, and he curses.
“Fuck, pretty girl. You smell amazing. You’re gonna make me lose my fucking mind, want you so much,” he babbles into your underwear, and you’re slowly starting to realize this guy is fucking filthy. You moan, the realization hitting you as he’s pulling your panties off with his teeth and stuffing them in his pocket. He sits up, pulling his long hair out of his face and into a messy ponytail. You rub your thighs together at the sight, feeling the slick between your legs. He comes back down, pressing his face against your inner thigh, inhaling your scent deeply.
“My favorite girl, look at this pretty pussy…” he drags a finger through your wet folds, prodding at your entrance with a thick finger. You’re panting now, expectant and wanting, and he slowly pushes one inside, his tongue lapping at your clit as his middle finger enters you. He moans against your cunt, continuing to work you with his mouth as you writhe underneath him. You clench your legs around his head, the feeling too much, but he pries your legs apart with his free hand, pulling away.
“Nuh, uh, baby. I gotta hear every fuckin’ sound you make. As much as I want those thighs as earmuffs,” he says, reattaching his lips and tongue to you.
He’s practically making out with it, pussy drunk and grinding his hips against the mattress. You feel the tension build in your gut, and he adds a second finger. You have to bite your lip, and he bites the inside of your thigh. You yelp, but the jolt of pain makes you clench around his fingers.
“Gonna make you come so hard you’ll be cryin’ baby. You want that?” he groans, working you with his fingers, his tongue darting back out to swirl around your clit. He sucks on it, and you buck your hips up into his mouth. He moans into you as you ride his tongue, grinding your cunt on his face like you need it. Because, you do. You need it so bad you’re begging him.
“Please, Suguru,” you slur, chasing your high.
“Oh god,” you cry, hand finding his hair, messing it up as strands fall in his face as he eats you out. You’re too focused on your release now, and his head stops moving, just letting you ride his face.
“C’mon pretty girl. Give it to me. Please,” he’s whimpering into your cunt, sucking on your clit and curling his fingers just right and- fuck.
Your vision goes white and you’re gasping, hot and heavy in your gut as your orgasm shreds the last of your resolve and you are crying, hot tears spilling from your eyes as you tell him to keep going, keep going. He laps at you, working you through your orgasm, as he grinds himself against the mattress again.
“So good, baby, you taste so good, I wanna make you squirt,” he says. He’s pumping his fingers into you as you ride out your orgasm, slipping a third in and you’re clenching so hard around him. He pulls his fingers out and you gush, you’ve never done that before and he’s drinking you up, your head spinning as you cry, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes. He comes up for air finally, pressing a soft kiss on your stomach.
“Knew you could do it, princess,” he mumbles against your skin. He’s on his knees again, positioning your hips as he unzips his pants, his cock springing up as it's freed from the constraints of his trousers. He wastes no time sliding his cock between your folds and then pressing at your entrance, your pussy sucking him in greedily as you moan, unable to form words or any coherent sounds. He’s so fucking thick it’s making your eyes roll back, and you have to squeeze them shut to help you get through the feeling of him bottoming out.
“Don’t close your eyes, baby,” he says as he moves, thrusting into you again, “look at me while I’m fucking you.”
Your eyes fly open and you’re nodding, helpless as he throws your ankles over his shoulders and hits you just right.
“Jesus, fuck, Suguru…” You’re chanting his name, spurring him on.
“Christ, this pussy is fucking killing me,” Suguru groans as his cock slides back into you, making you cry out, his name spilling off your lips in short gasps. You feel your walls clench slightly at the feeling of being so full again, and he sets a brutal pace. He wraps his arms around your thighs as he fucks you, pulling you impossibly closer, and you can hear how your skin slaps. You can’t even give a fuck how it’s seven in the morning, or how you’re going to quit your job after this so no other man can even think about touching you. Suguru must be a mind reader, because he’s bending you in half now, lips by your ear as he drives into you so deep.
“Quit your fucking job. Let me take care of you. I wanna take care of you baby, please,” he babbles, breath stuttering as you suck him in.
“Bad advice,” you murmur, jaw slack as your mouth hangs open in a gasp.
“Fuck that, hnghh, want you all to myself. Gotta get you out of there, princess,” he hammers into you, cock so deep it’s brushing up against your cervix.
“My pretty girl shouldn’t have to- fuckkkkk, baby- deal with all that bullshit,” he’s babbling into your neck, teeth clamping down on your pulse point.
You clench around him at the need in his voice, the possessiveness eliciting a gasp from your lips. His girl? Your brain is mush at this point and you really like the sound of that. You feel the coil tightening in your gut as your second orgasm nears, and you're gripping at his hair, tugging on the strands, begging begging for your release.
“You like that baby? Like when I call you my girl?” He groans, pace unrelenting.
“You wanna be my girl, princess? Please. Please be my girl. Need you so bad. Always have.” He kisses you, not giving you a chance to answer. His need is felt as his tongue is shoved into your mouth, swallowing up your sounds. As he pulls away, you’re a mess.
“Please, Suguru, Sugu… wanna be your girl, yes, yes,” you’re panting and he just whimpers into the crook of your neck again, breathy as he picks up his pace. The tip of his cock hits just right at this speed and you’re coming, eyes hitting the back of your skull as you shut them, rolled behind closed eyelids. He grips your chin in his hand, tapping on your cheek.
“Look at me, baby.”
And that’s how you are with Suguru. You look at him, because he asked you to. As your eyes meet, he knits his eyebrow together, groaning. You think, maybe, he needs you.
You see stars around Suguru as you come, vision blurry from the wetness in your eyes and the intensity of your orgasm. Suguru groans as you spasm around his length, and his hips start to stutter. He is getting erratic with his movements, but takes it and fucks you through it just how you need it.
“Shit, baby. Let me come inside you.” He’s begging you, hand on your cheek and his thumb brushing over your bottom lip as you come down from your high, sensitive and spent. You let him prod his thumb into your mouth, slack-jawed and trusting. You don’t close it or suck, just let him do it. He groans at the sight, and you nod, finally.
All it takes is that nod and the sight of your loose jaw. He thrusts, once, twice, and then he’s spilling into you, moaning in your ear, and you’re gasping, clutching at his back as he comes.
“Fuck, baby, princess, love this, love your pussy, milking me for all I’m worth, fuck-“ he gasps, your hand sliding up to his hair as he babbles nonsense into your ear.
“Fuckin’ love your pussy, love you so much, God,” he pants and you freeze, the words hitting you like a freight train.
He stills, lips coming up to press a kiss to your forehead, the gesture tender and sweet in stark opposition to his filthier behaviors. Suguru freezes, his lips still on your forehead, before he pulls away.
“What did you say?” You ask quietly, looking up at him with wide eyes.
“I…” he starts, eyes mirroring yours.
“I didn’t- I don’t… I don’t know what came over me.”
“You don’t mean it?” You ask, a pang of disappointment aching in your chest. You’re not sure why. It must’ve just slipped out. He doesn’t have to mean it. You’re close, but nothing about your relationship insinuates he should feel that way.
“No! I mean… I,” he fumbles with his words, exhaling sharply. “I’m in love with you. I have been for a while. I just didn’t want you to think I was like everyone else.” He sighs, sitting up. The feeling of him pulling out of you has you feeling strangely empty emotionally.
You’re not sure what to say. This is Suguru. Your closest friend as of recently, you work together. Though, you promised to quit your job for him, you think.
Fuck it.
You smile, eyes bright and gleaming as your hands find his cheeks.
“Thank you,” you say. And you mean it. “For loving me.”
That’s all you can offer him right now. Your thanks, and a promise as you hold your pinky up to him again, face flushed and hair sticking to your forehead.
“I’ll be your girl.”
“Promise?” He looks at you with that familiar lopsided grin.
“Mhmm. I promise.”
Softly, you kiss the junction of your fingers.