#bouncerates

[corellianhounds]

Saw one of those posts where someone was like “Boba Fett was only 37 in Return of the Jedi?? He shoulda been at the clubbb” and like. I cannot stress enough how much he was AT the club. He was chilling in the corner but he was at the club. Max Rebo was there and everything

[sillyswriting]

: ̗̀➛ bouncer simon 'ghost' riley - 01

cw : sexual theme, small sexual assault scene, violence

ㅤㅤ     ㅤ  ㅤㅤㅤ collection - prev ⋆ next

the new bouncer had all the girls intrigued. you'd been working here for almost a year, and you'd never seen anyone like him. and god, you'd seen some weirdos in a strip club.

on his first day, the girls had been mostly intrigued by his physique-big, strong, face covered by a surgical mask and the hood of his hoodie, with 'security' written in bold across his back. but now, all the girls, you included, had one goal… hearing his voice.

that was the thing with ghost-how he had been introduced to the staff-he didn't talk. when drunk men started bothering the dancers, he didn't need to say a word. he just approached, and the fuckers got the message. if they didn't, he grabbed them and threw them outside. not a single word spoken.

word was that he was ex-military, and it would make sense. his sheer physical strength alone was proof-you had seen him throw a man to the floor like he weighed nothing, and that guy had to be at least 130 kilos. his posture was another giveaway, rigid and disciplined, always on his feet, eyes scanning the room like a hawk. then there was his silence-no one ever heard him coming. sure, the music was loud, but even without it, he moved like a ghost, blending so seamlessly into his environment that predicting his next move was nearly impossible. guess he earned that nickname.

but why would an ex-military man end up in a strip club in manchester? he either fucked up bad, or he was just done.

truth was, simon had been injured-his knee was shot, pain was constant, and command had benched him for good. no more deployments, no more battlefield. just a desk and a slow death in an office. so he walked.

he hated the way he would softly limp. to untrained eyes, it was barely noticeable, but to him? he felt like he was half of himself . this job was the only thing he'd found outside the military that still required some of his skills. he had no interest in working around soldiers-too petty for that. they didn't want him anymore, so he sure as hell wasn't going to help them train new recruits.

so he ended up here, at the magic stick. what a stupid fucking name. but the job? same as always-observe, analyze, attack.

it wasn't so bad. the job was easy, the place mostly clean, and the pay was good. he didn't need to socialize. sure, the girls had tried to sweet-talk him, but he'd just deadpanned them until they gave up. the only one who never really tried was the one he always had his eyes on. his gaze lingered on you when you were on the pole, when you walked past him to head to the back, when you led a man by the hand to the private rooms.

you were on your break, smoking by the staff door when he stepped out. normally, you were never shy-especially not around men, given your line of work-but there was something about ghost that made your hands sweat. you meekly offered him a fag, your voice quieter than usual. he said nothing. just looked at you, unreadable as ever. yet, somehow, the silence wasn't awkward. you were.

maybe it was nerves, maybe it was the way he carried himself, all stillness and power, but something had you spiraling. before you could stop yourself, you started ranting about customers, the same way you did with the girls inside. anything to fill the space, anything to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. call it a defense mechanism, call it whatever you wanted-but right now, you just needed to stop feeling so damn flustered.

once you were finished with both the rant and the fag, you made your way inside, quickly. "thanks for the therapy, ghost." you'd said. he still had his eyes on you, his expression unreadable, but you guessed you had annoyed him. just as you turned your back on him, passing through the door, you heard him.

"name's simon," he grunted, voice thick with that unmistakable manchester accent.

back inside, your cheeks were burning. his voice was so deep it should be illegal. it suited him, no doubt, and you'd be lying if you said just hearing his name didn't send a shiver down your spine. how could a man you had no shot with be that damn attractive? as you made up your little scenarios at night, you imagined his groans in your ears. you'd known he'd groan.

but life went on. you danced, he watched. until one night…

it was a busy night, even with only an hour until closing. many men were still sitting, watching all the girls on stage. you were out looking for the biggest fish-the man with the most drinks on his table, the one whose clothes looked the most expensive. it hadn't been a slow night, but you liked the money. little did you know, you were being observed too.

when you had chosen your target, you took him to the back. men here were always so eager for private dances. you explained everything meekly- how long, how expensive. and most importantly, you told him: no touching, not from him. "i do all the work, honey," you said, sitting down on his lap.

as you started your show, you knew he was going to be a difficult one. he kept trying to reach for your hips, your thighs. at first, you stayed calm, pushing his hands down gently with a soft smile on your lips. but as he insisted on moving his hands, you decided you were done. you quickly put your top back on, told him it was on the house, and that he could just leave now.

he didn't really seem happy with the idea. you knew what was coming, so you reached for the hidden button, pressing it to call security.

the man had approached you, trying to grab you again, pulling at your top, yelling for you to go back to dancing, calling you a whore. he even went as far as grabbing a handful of your arse. but before he could do more, he was on the floor, ghost on him, fists landing on his face.

once he decided the fucker had had enough, he dragged him outside. he glanced back at you before leaving, like he was waiting for something. "'m 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦," you said, nodding at him. to be honest, you were more than fine-you were hot and bothered. he had been protecting you. you.

you had worked in far worse strip clubs; you were no stranger to that type of behavior. that's why you liked this place so much: the security was efficient. even the guys before ghost didn't make you wait 10 minutes here. and ghost-he arrived in a matter of seconds. you didn't really care how he had gotten there so quickly.

after closing, you decided to take a shower at the club. even though you were sadly used to vile men, it was never a pleasant experience. you told the girls not to wait up for you; you knew the manager wouldn't be leaving for another hour, so you took your time.

what you didn't know was that simon always waited for you in the shadows. he liked to watch you reach your car, making sure nothing happened to you on the short walk from the door to the parking lot. so when he saw all the girls making their way out, but not you, he got concerned. he decided to investigate. he never thought he'd stumble upon this.

you were in the showers, and he heard the water running. reassured that you were okay, he was about to make his way out, ready to wait in the dark like a good guard dog. but just as he put his hand on the handle, the sweetest sounds he'd ever heard reached his ears.

"simon," you moaned.

you had no idea he was here, he knew that. he smirked, wondering how long you had been touching yourself to the thought of him. probably as long as he had with you. he had seen the look on your face in the private room, your eyes screaming '𝘧uck m𝘦.' he hadn't thought anything of it then, chalking it up to the adrenaline. but now? you were going to get what you asked for.

silently taking his clothes off, he made sure to lock the bathroom door. no one was here but you and the manager, but he was still thorough. old habits died hard. he took his mask off too. after all, he had no intention of this being a one-time thing. his sweet girl could see his face; he didn't care.

pulling the shower curtain open, you didn't even notice that. tsk. oh, that wouldn't do. he'd have to teach you to be more aware of your surroundings. the world was a very bad place.

you jumped when you felt a warm body behind you, hands on your hips. you were about to move your own hand from between your legs, but it was stopped. "don't stop on my account, lovie," simon murmured in your ear, his voice low and rough. "wanna hear all those sweet sounds you're makin'"

when you didn't do anything, you felt his teeth nip at your throat. "what? gettin' shy on me?" he laughed darkly, and you just whimpered in response. "ah, i see. need me to do all the work, yeah?" he asked, the smirk clear in his voice. and so, he did all the work.

you had been right, he did groan.

[sluttywonwoo]

bad influence(s): s.coups | the bouncer

pairing: bouncer!s.coups x f reader

summary: a game, a bet, a target.

warnings: smut (18+; mdni), swearing, strangers, kind of morally questionable behavior on reader's part....

smut warnings: oral (f&m receiving), dry humping, 69ing, protected sex, car sex, semi-public sex, sex as a bet

word count: 2.5k

“Him?” you balk, pointing across the room at the man your friend had selected as a candidate for your little game. 

She nods, sipping her cocktail nonchalantly. “Yeah, he’s hot.”

“That’s one of the bouncers. He’s an employee.” 

“So? You said you could land any man. He’s a man.” 

“But he’s like, working. I don’t want to bother him while he’s on the job.” 

“If you don’t think you can get him to bite, just say so.” 

You scowl. “You are such a bitch.”

She grins. “I know. But I bet you’ll be thanking me tomorrow morning. He looks like he can throw you around.” 

“At least the guy I picked for you is a patron,” you complain. “Next time I’m going to pick the DJ or something.” 

“You’re the one who was bragging about your winning streak. Maybe I just wanted to even the playing field.” 

You roll your eyes. “That’s cheating.”

“I mean if you’re as good as you say you are, it should be easy, right?” 

You curse her again, under your breath this time, and snatch her drink from her hand. “Give me this.” She watches with amusement in her eyes as you chug the rest of it. 

You already have a couple drinks in you but you figure you’ll need even more alcohol in your bloodstream in order to even attempt to approach the guy. Liquid courage and all that. 

“Good luck,” she sings as she takes her glass back. 

“You too,” you mutter. “You have your pocket knife on you?”

“Yep, you?”

You pat your pocket. “Always. Call me if you need anything.” 

“Ditto. Love you.” She blows you a kiss, her expression souring when you don’t reciprocate. “Say it back, slut!”

“Love you too,” you grumble.

“Now go get some dick!”

You wish she hadn’t shouted that across the room but the music is blaring so loud you doubt he heard it. It still gets you a few sideways looks from other people on the dance floor, though. 

The bouncer is standing on a raised platform that runs along the outside wall. He’s one of several stationed at different spots on it so that they’re able to get a good vantage point of the entire club. Easier to sniff out trouble from above, you suppose.  

You make your way over to him slowly, trying to suss out his vibe as you get closer. You’re largely unsuccessful, seeing as it’s dark and loud and you’re more than a little tipsy. The only light in the entire place comes from neon beer signs, strobe lights, and black lights hanging above the dj booth. 

Luckily, his features are sharp enough to discern through the dark— strong eyebrows, stronger shoulders. God, he’s broad. 

Eventually, you’re able to make out the lettering on his name tag which reads: CHOI, S. If only you knew what the S stood for, then you could call his name to get his attention. Instead, you’ll have to resort to Plan B. 

“So, you come here often?”

He glances at you without turning his head, almost like he isn’t fully sure if you’re talking to him. When he sees that you are in fact looking at him, he answers, albeit still with an air of confusion.

“To… my job?” 

“Yeah, like are you here every night?” 

“Most nights, yeah. I’m a grad student though so when I have late classes I don’t work. Why, do you come here often?”

You shrug. “Only sometimes.”

“I haven’t seen you around before.”

You snort. “Do you remember all the regulars’ faces?” 

“I do when their faces are as pretty as yours.” 

Oh. Maybe this would be easy. 

“Is that so?” 

“Mhm.”

“How many times has that line worked on girls before?”

“Well, does it count as a line if you’re the one that approached me?”

He had you there. 

“I guess this is the part where I ask if I can buy you a drink,” you say, deciding to keep the bit running, “but seeing as you’re still on the clock…”

He checks his watch. “Only for about thirty more minutes. Can I take you up on your offer then?” 

Your heart skips a beat. “I’ll be here.” 

“But let me be the one to buy you a drink,” he clarifies. 

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I let you buy the drink?” you joke. 

“I get a discount.”

“Ok fine, you win.” 

“Perfect, I get off at midnight.”

So do I, you think to yourself. 

-

You’re only half-convinced the bouncer will actually show when midnight rolls around. You keep him in your periphery as the minutes tick by, occasionally making eye contact with him when he catches your attention, but then he leaves his post and disappears into one of the backrooms, leaving you to wait and see if he’ll follow through. 

You don’t see your friend anywhere so you assume she must have already sealed the deal with her mark. A quick check of her location confirms that she’s moving in the direction of her apartment. Damn, she works fast. 

You’re still scrolling through your phone when someone slides onto the bar stool next to you. It’s him. He’s still wearing his uniform, a fitted black tee and slacks, but he’s lost the earpiece. What he’s got on could pass for street clothes if you didn’t know better. 

“Still thirsty?” he asks. 

“Always.” 

“What do you want?”

“Whatever you’re gonna have.”

He waves the bartender over and orders two green tea shots. Something quick that goes down easy. You’re not the only eager one. 

“By the way, what’s your name?” you ask, closing some of the distance between you by reaching over and fiddling with his name tag. 

“Seungcheol, but my friends call me Coups.”

“What should I call you?”

Seungcheol laughs. Clearly you’re not there to be his friend. 

“You can call me Cheol,” he decides. “What should I call you?”

-

You follow Seungcheol out to the parking lot behind the building after he closes the tab. The club is still very much alive and kicking this time of night but outside it’s deafeningly quiet. The thrum of the music through the brick walls is barely noticeable after being in the thick of it for so long. 

“You didn’t drive, did you?” Seungcheol asks as he clicks a button on his keys.

“No, we Ubered.”

“We?”

“My friend and I. She already left with someone.”

“Ah, does that mean I’m the backup plan?” 

“Not at all.”

“It wouldn’t change anything for me if I was, by the way,” he says, winking as he opens the passenger side door for you. 

You wait to respond until he slides into the driver’s seat beside you. 

“Are you sure? It wouldn't change things even a little bit?”

“Well, it might hurt my feelings a tiny bit,” he concedes. “But you’re hot enough that I’d be able to get over it pretty fast.”

“I’m flattered.” 

“So, how should we do this? Do you want to go back to my place or climb into the backseat?”

“Wow, forward.”

“Says the woman that hit me with a pickup line while I was working.”

“Fair enough, let’s get in the back.”

Seungcheol gestures for you to go first like the gentleman he is, definitely not with the ulterior motive of smacking your ass when you climb over the center console. He joins you a second later, clumsily repeating the same maneuvers and landing next to you. 

You laugh. “You ok?” 

He pushes his hair out of his eyes, grinning wickedly. “Never better.”

He leans forward, bringing a hand to your cheek. It’s surprisingly gentle for the circumstances. “Can I kiss you?” 

“Please do.”

His lips are warm, just like the hand on your face. They’re a little rough too, like the calluses on his palms. It escalates quickly. He slips his tongue into your mouth as soon as your lips part in a moan. It isn’t long before he’s kissing his way down your neck and nipping at your collarbone. 

His fingers play with the hem of your skirt. “Here, get on my lap.”

You straddle him, knees touching the leather on either side of his waist. You can feel how hard he is through his pants. The material is thin enough that you can feel him throbbing already and it takes a good amount of restraint not to tease him for it. It’s not like you’re faring any better. You’re sure your panties are soaked through by now. It’ll be a miracle if there’s not a wet spot on his pants when you get up. 

“Wanna try sitting on my face?”

You glance up at the roof. Seungcheol’s car is a sedan, not an SUV. “Is there enough room?”

“Why don’t we find out?”

He shifts to lay on his back with you still on top of him, urging you to turn around so that you can ride his face. You start to unbutton your skirt but he stops you. 

“Wait, leave it on. Your panties too, just move them to the side.”

“Are you afraid someone will see?”

“Nah, no one ever comes out here,” he assures you. “Unless it’s to do this. I just think it’s hot.”

It is kind of hot. Your skirt essentially turns into a blindfold as you lower yourself onto his face. He kisses your pussy through your panties first before he pulls them aside with his teeth and begins to devour you. 

It feels good but you can’t move your hips very well like this. You’re sort of forced to be hunched over due to the lack of space but the position does give you an interesting idea. 

Your hands move to his belt on instinct, making fast work of the buckle and then the zipper. 

“Is this o-ok?” you ask between breaths. 

He mumbles something in affirmation, giving you the green light to keep going. You feel him sigh against you in relief when you release him from his briefs and he straight up moans when you press your tongue to the tip. You try to match the pace of his mouth on you with your own, taking him deeper and deeper the more he teases you with his tongue. 

You swallow around him once, then again when you feel him shudder underneath you. It isn’t long until it turns into a competition, both of you trying to pull bigger reactions from the other. He’s winning, you think, because you’re about to cum on his tongue but he taps your thigh to signal you to stop before you can. 

“Fuck, sorry, I didn’t want to cum in your mouth,” Seungcheol huffs. His lips are glistening with you. It looks like lip gloss in the dim moonlight. Pretty. 

You pout. “I did.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you close?” He doesn’t look sorry at all. 

You nod, still pouting. 

“Poor baby,” he coos, stroking your face. “Will you let me make it up to you?”

“You can try.”

He laughs and reaches into his pocket for a condom, producing one almost immediately. 

“Do you always have those on you?” you ask incredulously. 

“We keep them in the back,” he scoffs. “I grabbed one when I clocked out. But don’t act like you don’t keep any in that tiny purse of yours.”

“Can neither confirm nor deny,” you chirp. 

“Mhm, I just beat you to it.”

You watch as Seungcheol shimmies his pants further down so that he can roll the condom on properly. 

He looks back up at you once it’s on. “What are you waiting for?”

You grin and hoist yourself back onto his lap, hovering shakily. “An invitation.” 

He kisses you instead of extending one, causing your knees to tremble. Seungcheol uses the opportunity to guide you down onto him and you’re all too glad to let him. The stretch is divine. You knew it would be. His cock is thick, just like he is, and it feels like he’ll split you in half if you aren’t careful. 

You moan the nickname he told you to call him into his mouth and feel him twitch inside you. You can tell he’s trying to give you time to adjust to his size but you can also tell that his patience is fraying at the edges. 

“Can I push your shirt up?” he asks, evidently trying to distract himself. 

“Yeah, go ahead. But if we get caught with my tits out I’ll kill you.”

“I’d die doing what I love.”

You’d smack him if you didn’t think it’d turn him on even more. 

When you do start to rock your hips, you’re careful not to rock the car with you. It might be dark out but a swaying car would definitely draw some attention if anyone were to walk by. 

Seungcheol alternates between sucking on your tits and sucking on your bottom lip as you fuck him. You can still taste yourself on him when he kisses you. You wonder if he can taste himself on you too. 

“This is kind of embarrassing,” he stammers, hiding his face in the crook of your shoulder, “but I’m already getting close.”

“What happened to making it up to me?” you taunt.

“I’m sorry. You feel so fucking good.”

“Do you want me to slow down?”

He muffles a whine against you. “I don’t want you to but if you don’t I’m not going to last much longer.”

“I can probably get there too if you rub my-”

“Like this?”

“Shit, yes, just like that.” 

“Faster? Or-”

“No, no, what you’re doing is perfect. Oh god, I’m going to cum if you keep doing that. Please don’t stop.”

A touch of smugness returns to Seungcheol’s expression. He’d chide you for your hypocrisy if he could but he’s right on the edge too and all he can do is help you both ride out your orgasms as you cum all over his cock. 

It takes a while for the aftershocks to subside but he holds you until they do. You sit there tangled together, catching your breath before he finally breaks the silence. 

“So do you win money or...?”

You scrunch your nose in confusion and tilt your head up to look at him. “What are you talking about?”

“From the bet with your friend.”

You bolt upright, nearly hitting your head on the roof. “What? You knew?!”

“Of course I knew. You two were pointing and staring at me for like ten minutes. You were obviously plotting something.”

“I-”

“I don’t mind,” he shrugs. “I feel like I kind of won too, in a way.”

“You’re not mad?” 

He shakes his head. “I’m not mad.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky promise.” He even offers you his pinky to link with yours. “You don’t win money, though?”

You sigh. “No, I wish. It’s just for fun.”

“It is fun,” he agrees as he starts to untangle himself from you. “It’s pretty late. Do you want to come back to mine and clean up?”

“Is that code for shower sex?”

“It might be.”

“I’m not opposed to that.”

“Perfect. I live just around the corner. Oh, and before I forget,” he pauses to hand you his phone. “Text yourself. That way you have my number in case you ever need to win any more ‘bets’.”

lmk what you think! i always appreciate feedback!!

[fuck-yeah-intro-movies]

The Bouncer (2000)

[superhoeva]

bouncer!logan using his break to fuck you silly in the bar bathroom after you come a visit him at work. such a sweet thing, driving down here just to see him and bring him something other than bar food.

he couldn't care less that you're dressed in a t-shirt, sweatpants, and shoes that should've been chucked out ages ago. you're here for him. running around town and bringing food for him.

a hand settles over your mouth to muffle your loud moans and his chest presses hard against your back at he plunges inside you. you're leaking a mess, and logan finds it's a fucking sight whenever he pulls back enough to see how well his dick is splitting you open.

the man is certain he won't be able to hold it long, thinking of you. how good you are to him. the way you kissed his chin at the door. he's trying. really, he is. rutting and gnawing a sore into his bottom lip, groaning every time his hips snap against your ass.

huffs of hot air pants out against the shell of your ear, and logan is damn near drooling as he whispers rather loudly at how infuckingcredible you are for squeezing around him like you are.

"who told you you could feel this good, huh? and who told you to be so sweet to me, hm? " he grunts, smirking at the pitiful response you whimper out in return. tears are welling in your eyes as he shifts his hips, the new angle punching the head of his cock right into your spot. you both share a broken groan that echoes against the cool walls of the bathroom. "shit, there it is. right there. right there, yeah? s'at it?"

you jerk with heavy gasps into logan's palm. the world blurs, and a rush of heat floods over you at a suffocating rate. your peak only drags logan's along, the man smashing himself against you in a noisy, shaky hover.

logan doesn't want you to leave after. the soft hand and long kiss that rubs against your cheek after he pulls up your sweats tells you that much.

so instead of you driving back home with shaky legs and a hazy head, logan settles you in a booth near the very back of the bar. right in his eye line and content in the quieter space with however many drinks and snacks you want.

his attention is split for the rest of the shift–dutifully scanning his sharp gaze over the entire room while keeping himself where he can see and get to you quick if he needs. he ends up chuckling to himself when he's allowed to go home for the night, only to find you slumped next to an empty basket that used to hold the house fries he ordered you in a light sleep.

head tilted and eyes soft as you snore quietly, logan just watches you for a moment. grinning a little at how easy you are to tire out.

soon enough, he's coaxing you from the booth with soft coos and shushes whenever you whine about not wanting to move.

he cuddles you with strong arms into his side the entire way to his truck, promising to come back and get your car in the morning. it's the least he can do...

more bouncer!logan | send in bouncer!logan ideas

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[flamingpudding]

Danny, the 'twig' Bouncer

The job was just a temporary solution. It was a means to an end. To help him handle his obsession until things were better. Until it was safe to be out again. Until he could roam around freely without fear. Until he no longer needed to lay low or be on the run. Until he could return to being Phantom.

This job helped keep his obsession somewhat sedated. Sure, it was a shady bar, but it beat working out in the open in some other way or becoming a non-ghost vigilante and risking his human persona too.

Besides people tented to underestimate him because he was a 'twig' in their eyes. The bar owner nearly didn't hire him until he easily flipped a human truck over his shoulder and threw the guy out the back door on his interview day.

But again this was just meant to be temporary. He got to fight the trouble makers and protect customers from the rowdy crowd.

At some point, the people even started cheering whenever Danny was on the clock, his coworkers even leaving the heavy hitters to him. It was kind of fun always seeing the sound looks of the big guys that didn't think Danny could throw them out the door with one hand. The owner had said something about getting more customers ever since Danny started working for him.

Danny even recognized regulars now. Tho there was this one guy with a red helmet that gave him a weird feeling. But the guy wasn't making trouble so Danny left him alone.

Besides the Bar Owner always pet his shoulder after he threw someone out. That meant he did a good job right?

Though Danny did wonder how long this temporary job would last.

.

.

.

Yea his Fenton luck struck again. Danny didn't know faces. The bar was a shady place but neutral zone according to the owner but there was the golden rule of not messing with Joker. Danny had agreed even tho he didn't know who that guy was.

Soo the day came a clown made trouble in the bar and no one else appeared to want to do something. So what did Danny do? His job. He punched the guy, knocked him out and threw him right out the door a little too hard into a brick wall. He might have broken a couple of that clown guys bones. Hello trauma, Freakshow greets you.

The bar was dead silent right after, everyone staring at him like he had just signed a death sentence. The owner had then pushed him out the door and muttered something about sending Danny on vacation and to return in a month if he was still alive by then.

Did that mean he was fired or got a weird kind of promotion?

Why was that guy in a furry suit staring him down now?

Also why was the red helmet regular suddenly trying to hire him for his gang?

Really Danny just wanted a simple job that sedated his obsession, this was not what he expected to happen for a job well done.

[turboemmy]

jester ocs ft @juxtp0se @galactoon and chunkybeez

[lushleona]

bouncer!mattheo who spends his entire night seething after being forced to let you into the club while wearing a skirt so tiny it could practically be considered a belt, and holding on to some sleazy fucker’s arm, a knowing smirk on your lips as you breeze past.

it’s a long fucking night. mattheo’s stuck outside, hands stuffed in the pockets of his black bomber jacket, boots planted wide as the crowd shifts and swells. he clocks every set of stilettos and drunk frat boys, but his mind keeps circling back to you, to your glittery makeup and your careless giggle.

he watches the door all night, jaw clenched tight, the muscle ticking in frustration as he pictures every damn scenario: you grinding against that guy on the dance floor, his hands sneaking too low, and your mouth mouthing off in that bratty way mattheo knows you do; or worse, you leaving with him, stumbling into the street, a mess of too much skin and too little sense. but when the door finally swings open to reveal you, you’re shoving the guy off, mascara smeared, phone dangling uselessly from your fingers, drunk out of your mind and laughing like you own the world.

the guy makes a lazy grab for you, but mattheo’s there in an instant, shoving him back with a scowl and wrapping his calloused fingers around your soft hand. “maaattyyy,” you giggle, slurring his name, feet planted stubbornly against the concrete as you try to pull away. “let go!”

without a word, he releases your hand, only to haul you up over his shoulder, his rough palm smacking against your exposed ass. “stop squirming,” he growls, voice low and rough as he marches to his car. once there, he dumps you into the passenger seat, ignoring your breathless teasing about him being a “jealous dick” and an “overprotective asshole,” buckles you in with a click, and slams the door. gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles pale, he drives in tense silence, unsure if he’s more furious with you for coming to the club with that loser, or with himself for letting you get so reckless. but when he glances over and sees you slumped against the window, nearly asleep, his anger softens just a fraction, because at least you’re safe. at least you’re his in this moment.

m.list

[the-witty-pen-name]

Cherry

Bouncer!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Stripper!F!Reader

Word Count: 5.5k

Summary: You aren't exactly close with Simon, but when your ride is late picking you up, he offers you a ride home.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI; sex work (we respect sex workers in this house); derogatory/sexist remarks about sex work (reader's bf sucks); smut; piv unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it); brief description of harassment/assault; brief mentions of violence; language

Co-written with @munsonsmixtapes ❤️

It was like drawing the short straw when it gets determined who has to go over to the groups when parties come into the club. Most of the time- if not all the time, it’s a group not much different than the group here tonight. Rowdy, drunk men who just only seem to act worse as the night goes on, a cyclical of rude, obnoxious behavior before they’re inevitably thrown out. When you start to hear everyone warning each other of a bachelor party coming in tonight, you brace yourself already getting the gut feeling you’ll be the one stuck with them. 

You’re made more tonight in tips than you planned for tonight, so you’re trying to be positive while you’re trying not to dread the party coming in later. You’re outside, quickly having thrown sweats over your stage outfit, on your break when you hear the back door open. You turn and you smile seeing Simon must also be taking his break right now. 

You and Simon don’t talk much, but he doesn’t talk much to anyone. He tends to keep to himself, which you can respect. He’s probably your favorite out of the bouncers- he’s always nice and he’s always respectful to you and the other girls that work here. It’s kind of become a routine that you tend to take your breaks around the same time. Sometimes you pass when your break is starting and his is ending or vice versa. Or sometimes, like tonight, you’re both outside- you’re checking your phone and trying your best to scarf down a snack in peace while he leans against the building with a cigarette in hand. It’s nice- even if you hardly talk. It’s comfortable. 

“Cherry, you’re up next,” one of the girls says, popping her head out of the back door. You nod, thanking her, tossing the wrapper from your granola bar in the trash. You wince, hating your stage name. Simon notices, he’s always been perceptive. He offers you a sympathetic half smile as you head back inside. He stomps out his cigarette onto the ground, his own break also over and he needs to get back to the front door. 

You hurry backstage to the dressing room and you peel off your hoodie and your sweats. It leaves you in your signature red stage outfit, little cherries embroidered strategically across the mesh fabric of the bustier and panties. You make sure your red stockings are properly clipped onto your garter belt and then you fix your hair and reapply your lipstick in the vanity mirror. 

Simon takes his seat on the stool by the front door, thankful he doesn’t need to stand outside in the cold anymore for the rest of his shift. He’s keeping his eye on a group of men who came in a little earlier, getting progressively louder. They haven’t done anything yet, but he’s wary of them. They’re towing that line where they’re doing just enough to be obnoxious, but not enough to be kicked out yet. If it was up to him, he wouldn’t let them get to that point- but he knows the owner would be pissed. So he just waits, and keeps a close eye. 

Your heels are killing your feet but you walk back out onto the floor with such confidence that no one would ever know. You walk over to the stage manager, expecting to be next on stage for your routine. It’s like second nature to you now- you don’t even need to think about your movements when you’re on stage. 

“You’re gonna be with the party over at table ten,” he tells you and your brows furrow in confusion. “They ordered a lap dance for the groom-to-be, uh, Brandon I think- whatever.”

“I thought I was on stage tonight,” you try to argue over the music. 

He shakes his head. “Sorry, maybe tomorrow night- Misty is out, we’re short- so I need you on the floor.” 

You decide it’s not worth the argument, so you just nod, accepting your fate. You’re used to bachelor parties, you reason that it’s not the end of the world. You put on your sickeningly sweet fake smile and decide the sooner you get over there, the quicker it’ll be over. All you can think about is taking off these awful heels and escaping to the comfort of your apartment after your shift. 

“Hi boys,” you smile, your hands on your hips. “Which one of you is my groom?” you ask, tilting your head as they whoop and single him out with pats on the back. You smile, and saunter over to him, doing your best to be seductive. You straddle his lap, and rest your hands on his shoulders. “What’s your name, handsome?” you ask, biting your lip. 

“B-Brendon,” he slurs, his hands going to your hips and you're quick to move them. 

“Looking, no touching,” you say, trying to say so like a tease. You forgive the first time, you’re used to needing to explain the rules. Sometimes people legitimately don’t know, and more times than not, they apologize and abide- not wanting to be thrown out. However, you can tell he didn’t like this. You don’t miss the way his jaw clenched as he nodded. You choose to ignore it and start your routine. 

Simon’s watching like a hawk, hating the way he saw that guy looking at you. He doesn’t want to overstep, but if that guy tries something like that again, Simon isn’t going to hesitate to throw him out. He watches, keeping an eye on you, as you continue to dance on him. It doesn’t take long for the guy to try to touch you again, and Simon’s out of his seat and striding over before anyone even realizes what has happened. 

“You guys are done,” Simon says, picking the guy up by the neck of his t-shirt. You take a few steps back, everyone in the club watching Simon throw the guys out. If you had to guess, Simon was at least 6’3”, maybe even closer to 6’5”, and pure muscle. You can’t even imagine what he could do to someone like that asshole if he really wanted to. He settles on just throwing them out. You and the other girls watch in awe at how quickly he deals with them. A few minutes pass, and you anxiously wait for Simon to come back inside. He comes back in with his hair a little tousled and a small cut on his bottom lip. 

He ignores everyone and he just walks over to you, his face showing concern only for you. His eyes scan your face. “Are you okay, (y/n)?” he asks, his voice low and comforting. You nod, still in awe at how quickly he got that group of men out of the club. 

“You’re hurt,” you observe, your voice soft, bringing your hand up to his face to look at his cut. The gesture makes his heart flutter. 

“It’s fine, not a big deal,” he says, and he genuinely means it. That was really nothing to him. Doesn’t even come close to what he’s had to deal with in his life. The music starts to play again, and the rest of the girls return back to what they were doing- diverting the attention back to them and off of you and Simon. 

“Thank you for that,” you say. He nods, wanting to say more but not knowing exactly what. He finds himself in that position a lot with you. He doesn’t know why, but he just- he likes you and he’s worried about making you uncomfortable. He’s supposed to keep you safe and he wants you to be able to trust him. You’re hit on all the time by creeps every single shift and you’re working, he doesn’t want to cross boundaries. 

“It was nothing,” he replies, “I’m just happy you’re okay.”

“You’re a sweetheart,” you smile, and lean up to kiss his cheek. You don’t miss the way they turn a little pink and it makes you smirk. “Um, I gotta get back to work I think,” You say, pointing to the manager who is watching you, annoyed that you’re talking on the job. Simon scoffs. 

“You should be able to go home,” he points out, and you agree- but it doesn’t work like that here. You nod, but you’re able to brush this incident off- you’re tougher than you look. Always have been. 

“Yeah, doubt that would happen,” you chuckle, “Um, thank you again- really. You were my hero tonight.” You’re walking back towards the manager for a new assignment before Simon can even get a chance to reply. 

When he sees you disappear into the back room, assuming you were sent to one of the private show rooms. It makes his blood boil, not because he’s jealous- he understands this is your job, because your boss would send you back there after what just happened a few minutes ago. It didn’t seem fair, and you don’t deserve that. 

The whole thing has him unneccessarily worked up, so he gets the other security guards to watch the door while he goes outside for another smoke. He needs to clear his head, and he needs to stop worrying about you. You can take care of yourself, he knows that. He just needs to take five minutes and calm down the adrenaline that is still rushing through him after dealing with that asshole not too long ago. He’s just able to take a drag before the manager is outside, lecturing him about taking his break too early. 

“Fire me then,” he says matter of factly, cutting the man off mid-tirade. His eyes widen, not expecting Simon to talk back, he’s usually so mild mannered. Simon knows he’s good at his job, and he knows he's the most reliable bouncer they have. He knows they’d never fire him, but he never would usually take advantage of that- but tonight, shit- he just needs five minutes to himself. The manager retreats, practically cowering away because of Simon’s tone, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He’s so sick of this place most nights. 

At the end of the night, it’s close to 2:30 in the morning when everyone is heading home. You and the rest of the dancers are out of your stage clothes, bundled up in your cozy sweats, and so ready to go home and rest. Taking off your makeup in the dressing room and putting your hair up felt so good, and you’re so much more relaxed now than you felt a few hours ago. With your big tote over your shoulder, you lean against the wall of the club, waving and saying goodbye to everyone else while you wait for your boyfriend to pull up in your car. He should be there any minute, he knows when your shift ended- you texted him a reminder a half hour before the club closed. 

“Do you need a ride?” Simon asks, leaning up against the wall beside you. You shake your head. 

“I’m good, thanks, I appreciate it,” you reply, opening your phone to check his location. You scrunch up your face in disgust. He’s stopped sharing it with you, you forgot. You lock your phone and put it back in your pocket. “My boyfriend is picking me up, so he should be here soon.”

“You don’t need to wait with me,” you try to insist, feeling bad as a few more minutes pass and Wyatt hasn’t shown up yet. “I’m sure it’s just traffic.”

“Traffic at 2:45 in the morning?” Simon replies, with a small smile. You know how ridiculous it was before you said it, but you were trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. You try not to let on how much it’s bothering you, hoping he didn’t forget. 

“I’m gonna call him, make sure he’s okay,” you say, pulling out your phone. It goes to voicemail. 

“Fucking prick,” Simon mutters, under his breath. He didn’t mean for you to hear it. He stomps out his cigarette and he’s surprised you’re staring at him- looking pissed at what you heard. 

“I don’t need your fucking judgement,” you snap, “you don’t know him. What gives you the right? Wyatt’s a good guy- something must’ve happened. I’m sure he’ll be here. I didn’t ask you to wait with me. You can fucking go home.” 

You feel so fucking embarrassed when it goes to voicemail. 

You say nothing, and neither does Simon for a few more minutes. He hasn’t left you like you yelled at him and you're grateful for it, even if your pride won’t let you admit it. You check your phone again. 2:53 and no message, no call. 

“Come on,” Simon decides he’s done playing this game. It’s late and both of you need to get some rest tonight- you more so on his mind than himself. He presses the button on his fob, unlocking his car doors. “I’ll drive you home.” 

For half a second, you don’t even budge- too stubborn to follow behind him as he starts to walk to his truck. Out of spite, you’re tempted to stand firm, and dig in your heels. But, you know in the back of your mind that Wyatt isn’t coming. You know he’s back at your apartment asleep, having completely forgotten about you. And Simon’s here, wanting to help you. You concede, and stomp behind him. Despite your attitude, he still holds the door open for you, and it surprises you. You don’t think anyone’s done that for you before. He takes your bag and puts it in the backseat. 

Simon’s lost in thought as he pulls away from the club. Frankly, a little annoyed you don’t seem more upset with your shitty boyfriend. After the night you had, you’re going home to a guy like that? He hates the thought, but you’re right that it’s not his business. He doesn’t know you, or your boyfriend, or your life- so he needs to shake the feeling off. It just is so glaringly obvious to him, despite not knowing Wyatt, that the guy doesn’t deserve you. 

“I’m sorry,” he says finally, “you’re right it wasn’t my place to say anything.”

“I’m sorry too,” you apologize, “It’s been a long night, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“I get it,” he replies. There’s a quiet shift from that moment on, like the air has cleared and suddenly, someone you only see at work is quickly on the trajectory to becoming one of your closest friends. 

“He’s not that bad,” you try to defend your boyfriend again, and Simon literally can’t help the scoff that escapes. “He’s not!”

“Sure,” he replies, sarcastically, looking in the side mirror to merge. “Based on tonight, he seems like boyfriend of the year.”

“You can’t judge him based on this one thing,” you say defensively. 

“Okay, tell me about him then,” Simon chuckles. He wets his lips absentmindedly and you pretend not to notice. “What’s he doing for work?”

“He’s a streamer-”

“A what?”

“It’s like a YouTube channel for video games- he plays online…”

“And he makes money doing that?” He asks, almost surprised by your answer. 

“Um, not yet, but he’s working on it.”

“Huh, must be nice,” Simon muses, and you can tell he’s mocking Wyatt again. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” You scoff. 

“I don’t know,” Simon smirks, “I wish I had someone to financially leech off of so I could spend all day with my ass on the couch and play video games.”

“He’s not a leech…”

“Okay fine,” he says, “Let me rephrase that. It’s so nice you’re supporting him so he can pursue something so… creative.” 

“You’re being way too hard on him, you’ve never even met him,” you say, crossing your arms. It’s pissing you off, deep down knowing that Simon is right. He’s summing up every truth about Wyatt that you haven’t wanted to face. You won’t admit it- not even to yourself. 

“Okay, since he’s home- I’m assuming he does like more household stuff? I mean that’s fair. You work, he takes care of the apartment. No?”

You hesitate and it makes Simon literally gasp. 

“No, no, no,” he says, glancing at you with wide eyes. “Don’t fucking tell me this guy makes you do everything…”

“He tries, he just- he’s not good at it… I end up redoing it anyway.”

“Literally that’s called weaponized incompetence,” Simon interjects. “He’s literally playing you.”

“He’s making an effort,” you defend him, not willing to give Simon the satisfaction. “You’re being too hard on him. You’ve never even met him.” 

“Okay, so- no money, no job, and doesn’t pick up after himself,” Simon replies like he’s going through a checklist. “I don’t think I’m being too hard on him, I think you’re letting him get away with too much- you deserve better than that. That’s all I’m fucking saying.”

“God, why are you being such a fucking asshole? Why are you acting like you even know me? We’ve had like what, maybe five conversations since you started working here? Stop acting like we’re friends. I don't even know who you are.” 

“Okay, maybe we don’t know each other that well, but I do know Wyatt. I know the kind of guy he is.” 

“Of course you do. Because you’re so smart and know everything. I don’t see why you care anyway. This is my life and the only glimpse you see of it is a few hours every night.” 

“Oh, I see what this is about.” 

“What then? What is it about, Simon?” 

“You need to get laid or something. This has to be some sort of pent up aggression because he’s not fucking you, right?” 

“I can’t believe you’d even say that. Not that my sex life is any of your business, but it’s just fine, thank you very much.” 

“He’s got a tiny dick, doesn’t he? I bet he does. Shit, a tiny dick and you have to do everything for him? Yeah, I’d be pissed off too.” 

“Stop the car.” 

“What?” 

“Stop the car. I don’t want to hear anymore of this.” 

“Oh, so it’s true,” he lets out a laugh. “I knew I was right on the money.” 

“It’s not true and I want to get out please.”

“Not a fucking chance. You can get out when I get to your apartment. What do you say I give this guy a piece of my mind?” 

“You’re crazy.” 

“Right again.” 

“Why are you being so mean?” 

“I’m mean? Im the one driving you home and that fucker is sitting on his ass and you’re mad at me?”

“He just forgot.” 

“Inexcusable. If you were with me, we wouldn’t be having this problem. I’d drive you to and from work every night and I wouldn’t complain. I’d be lucky to have you in my passenger seat and I wouldn’t treat you like you’re garbage. You’re an amazing woman, (y/n), and I hate that you’re settling for so much less than you deserve.” 

As he pulls up to the apartment, you don’t even fully wait for the car to completely stop before you jump out. It makes him stop short, completely dumbfounded that you’d jump out without even waiting for him to park. At this point you’re both seeing red. Before he can say literally anything else, you loudly slam the car door behind you that it makes the car shake. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you call behind you angrily and flip up your middle finger to him. He stays, not pulling away until you’re safely inside. 

God, he’s so fucking in love with you. 

You’re dreading coming into work the next night when you get there for your shift. You don’t want to be there, and you’re dreading having to face Simon after the way the two of you blew up at each other last night. You also don’t want to give him the satisfaction of telling him that you broke up with Wyatt last night either. When you got home last night, you expected him to be asleep- but no, he was up on a game and in a lobby talking to people. He had completely forgotten about you just like Simon tried to tell you. 

Walking through the back door, you ignore him when he opens the door for you. You keep your head down and your hood up so you don’t have to even look at him. You don’t care if you’re being dramatic. You were not in the mood to hear him say ‘I told you so.’ You just want to zone out this entire shift. You’re so clocked out mentally that you don’t see the flowers in front of your usual vanity until one of the other girls asks about them. 

“Girl- did your man get you flowers?” She asks, elbowing you excitedly. “You’re lucky.”  She doesn’t stick around for your response, hurrying to make her call to be on stage. 

A small arrangement of flowers sits in front of your mirror with a small card poking out from the middle. Confusion sinks in, because Wyatt never got you flowers- he always said they were a waste because they didn’t last. You pluck the card from its stand and open it. You can’t help the way it makes you laugh. It makes you laugh so hard, you’re practically in tears.  

Sorry your boyfriend sucks. 

He didn’t even need to sign it to know that they’re from Simon. You don’t want to lose the card so you put it away safely in your bag. Despite this gesture melting away your annoyance for now, you’re still too stubborn to tell him he was right. You can’t wipe the smile off your face as you get your hair and makeup ready, and then you change into one of your outfits, another red matching set of course. You finish off the look with little cherry shaped clips in your hair to keep it off of your face. 

 It’s busier tonight than last, and you’re thankful for that because it’s keeping you busy so you can avoid Simon. You’re even able to get some time on stage tonight, making much more tonight than you would’ve last night. You can feel him watching you, and it’s not anything different than what you’ve performed a million times in front of him already. Except now, you find yourself wanting him to be watching you. Now, being on stage with him watching feels almost thrilling. 

You purposefully catch his eye during specific parts of your routine, enjoying as he’s trying not to watch- trying not to get flustered. You find it kind of adorable. You like that your plan to mess with him is working, and you can’t help at how smug it makes you feel. Your eyes find him when your back turned and your head is thrown over your shoulder looking out into the crowd. You make undeniable eye contact every time you’re peeling another article of your lingerie away from your body. You see him trying to hide the fact that he’s turned on and it makes you smirk. He’s trying his best, and you’d almost feel sorry for him if you weren’t so proud of yourself. 

Simon knows you’re trying to mess with him, and it’s pissing him off that what you’re trying to do is working. He doesn’t usually feel this way. He’s at work, and he’s never viewed the show this way before. He’s almost desensitized to it in a way. But tonight, that was different. He knew that was for him, and that you did it on purpose to fuck with him. You didn’t stop there, and you were killing him. 

Every lap dance, your eyes are finding his from across the room. Perched in another man’s lap and you look at him like you want to absolutely eat him alive. He tries to keep himself preoccupied, and looks around literally anywhere but you. He counts the tiles on the ceiling, or watches the bartender mixing drinks but it’s like you can sense when his eyes flicker because you always manage to find him just when he thinks he’s succeeded. 

You can’t even deny that you’re happy with yourself for thoroughly messing with him tonight. After packing up your bag, you walk out with the flowers wrapped up in your arms. You’re the last one out of the dressing room so you lock the door behind you. Your last private dance ran late- they signed up past the cut off but of course your manager okayed it anyways. You’re sure everyone else is gone and you’re relieved that you missed Simon altogether. 

“What the fuck was that?” He asks, making you jump. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie, feigning ignorance. He rolls his eyes. “Thanks for the flowers.”

“Don’t try to play innocent, you know what you were doing tonight,” Simon scoffs, already annoyed with this game you’re trying to play. 

“I’m going home, excuse me,” you ignore him, stepping around him to head down the hallway. 

“How? You don’t have a car.” 

“I don’t know, but I’ll get there somehow because I sure as hell am not riding with your judgmental ass.” 

“I’m judgemental? I’ve watched that man call you all of the names in the book while criticizing your job, telling you that you’re worthless, that only dirty women do this kind of work. Sorry that I actually care about you and want to see you with someone who treats you better because you deserve it.” 

“Oh, someone like you?”

“Yes, someone like me, y/n. I’ve been here the entire time watching you get hurt but I’m not staying quiet anymore.” 

“Well, you can stop worrying about me because we broke up,” you say, your words heated. It makes the atmosphere between you feel like everything has come to a halt. You can see Simon trying to register what you just said. 

“You broke up with him?” he asks, taking a step closer. He looks so desperate, scanning your eyes for any sign that it’s not true- terrified he misheard you. 

“It’s over,” you confirm. You watch as he nods, his eyes flickering down to your lips. 

“Good,” he whispers, finally closing the gap between the two of you. 

Your lips don’t leave his, and you’re completely tangled up in each other as you both stumble into the closest room, which happened to be one of the private rooms. Simon walks backwards, until he feels the couch behind him and he’s quick to sit down, pulling you in to straddle his lap. His hands slide under the back of your hoodie and you only break the kiss so he can pull it away, leaving you in your t-shirt. 

“How often did you think about this?” you tease, kissing down his neck. “Did you ever wish it was you in here?” You grind down on his erection, making him whine and you’re already obsessed with the noises he’s making for you. 

You get up, and he wants to pull you back into him but you deny him. You walk around the pole, giggling as you do so, feeling silly doing this in your t-shirt and sweats. “I’m sure you imagined me like this,” you tease gesturing to the old tee you’ve probably had since college. You pull it off and toss it so it hits him in the face and he laughs, pulling it down so he can see you again. 

Simon has seen you in so many of your work outfits- each one more intricate than the last. He’s seen you topless and in more types of lingerie than he can name. But this? You being just here with him, just your t-shirt bra smiling at him- he doesn’t think any of those even hold a flame to this moment. You don’t even know what you’re doing to him, thinking this is somehow a let down compared to how he usually sees you, but this is everything to him. This isn’t for your job, or to perform, this is just you- messing around with him and he loves it. 

You shimmy out of your sweatpants and you’re left now in just your bra and panties. God, he thinks you look fucking perfect just like this. You step around the pole one more time and then he can’t take it anymore, he needs to feel you again. He grabs your hand and pulls you gently back into him. You ungracefully land on top of him, but you doubt he cares from the way he kisses you so passionately. 

“This is definitely more like what I imagined,” he admits, as he gently pushes one of your bra straps down your shoulder so he can kiss your skin there. He means it. He doesn’t want that fabricated version of you- he’s wanted this. And he wants to show you that so badly. 

He’s never seen you like this-so vulnerable, so open to showing this side of yourself to him, the side that no one else gets to see. And you’re doing it here, at the place of work you share, in a room where you’ve shown your body to so many other people. But not like this. You’re on top of him, pushing down your bra and when he sees your tits on display for him, he's convinced that he’s going to come right there in his jeans. 

“Touch me, Simon,” you hum, your eyes fluttering shut as you bring one of his hands up to your breast. Your back arches as his thumb rubs along your nipple as you grind against him. “So good, baby,” you whine as your grinding progresses, your lips finding his again and you moan into his mouth, his cock getting even harder. He’s got to have you now or he’s going to bust. 

“Ride me, baby,” he says against your lips. “Please.” 

He doesn’t have to tell you twice and you quickly unzip his pants, pulling them down, followed by his boxers before climbing back onto him again once your panties come off. He swears he’s dreaming because that’s the only way this is possible, right? He thought you hated him.

You’re riding him now, slowly, trying to get used to it as your lips find his neck. Simon doesn’t think it can get any better than this. He can’t sleep with anyone else now because this is his peak. He knew you’d be good, but not this good. You’ve made this giant of a man a whimpering mess-something no other woman has ever been able to accomplish. 

He knows it’s so early, but he feels an orgasm coming on. He knows it’s because of his inactivity but god, he feels so embarrassed that he can barely last. Between the hickeys you’re leaving on his neck mixed with the way you’re riding him, he should have known he wasn’t going to make it very long. 

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he swears and you’re so caught up in his orgasm that you don’t even think to get off of him. He just looks so hot like this, his hair a mess, his eyes shut tight as he comes, his hands squeezing your hips as he does so, nails curling in, marking your skin with crescent shapes. “I think I love you,” he breathes once you finally climb off of him and you can’t help but giggle as you gather up your clothes. 

“Of course you do,” you roll your eyes, laughing it off but when you look at him, seeing his eyebrows pinched together, you realize that he’s serious. Your sweatpants drop to the floor and he reaches for your hands, pulling you to him again. His head rests against your stomach and you let your hands run through his hair. 

Your nails scratching across his scalp just feel so amazing, he sighs deeply and pulls you in a little closer. You smile, looking down at this scary man that’s suddenly so soft and affectionate. It makes your heart skip a beat. You could see yourself falling for this man, and you feel almost foolish that it took you this long to see him, really see him.  

He looks up, his chin resting against your tummy as his arms remain tight around your waist, almost like he’s afraid to lose you if he lets go. You run your hand through his hair, and then you cup his face- your thumb caressing his jaw affectionately. You meet his gaze and you’ve never seen his eyes look so vulnerable. 

“I think I’m going to fall in love with you,” you mumble, guiding him up so you can kiss him softly. 

The two of you get dressed, and he carries your flowers and your bag out to his car for you. He opens the door for you, and makes sure your stuff is tucked securely in the back. You watch as he gets into the driver’s seat and he hands you his phone to put on whatever music you want. You smile, already planning on messing with him again. You wait until he’s driving out of the parking lot. 

“You’re gonna finish what you started, right?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“I don’t know! You tell me.”

“Trust me, sweetheart. You’ll be the one finishing.” 

[sillyswriting]

: ̗̀➛ bouncer simon 'ghost' riley - 02

cw : sexual theme, public sex

ㅤㅤ     ㅤ  ㅤㅤㅤ collection - prev ⋆ next

simon was never the insecure type. not when it came to women, so dating a stripper was nothing to him. it wasn't for everyone, especially when he watched you work. it was tricky not to get a hard on every five minutes.

but at the end of the night, it was his dick that had you dumb, and that's all that mattered.

none of the fuckers coming in here would ever be able to satisfy a beauty like you-it was written all over their desperate faces. useless.

you, however, were not above jealousy. your relationship-if you could even call it that-was still fresh, and you had begged simon to keep quiet about it at the club. not that he was the talkative type to begin with.

relationship. you scoffed at the thought, taking another drag of your cigarette as you mulled over whatever the hell it was you had with simon.

every night for the past three weeks, he'd take you back to his place, fuck you stupid-turn your brain to mush until you couldn't string a single thought together-then cleaned you up, made sure you were warm and tucked in before you passed out.

and every morning, you woke up alone.

where he went-every single time-you had no clue. the gym, the grocery store, god knows where. all you knew was that by the time you opened your eyes, he was gone, leaving you to drag yourself back to your place and get ready for the day.

it wasn't the healthiest setup, nor the most romantic. but you let yourself be okay with it. because at the end of the night, you were always in simon's bed.

still, deep down, you wanted more. to be more than just a body.

shaking your head, you made your way back to the lockers, barely paying attention to the chatter around you. you were focused on fixing your hair, mind elsewhere-until you heard his name.

well, not his name. but ghost. you were the only one knowing his name amongst the girls.

"bet he fucks like an animal," the first girl drawled, her thick new york accent growing heavier as she got more worked up. "all quiet, brooding... those are the ones that do the nastiest shit. i know he talks filthy—it's always the silent ones."

the second girl just laughed, nodding in agreement when you caught her eye in the mirror.

you had to bite your tongue to keep from telling them just how right they were. not because you wanted to gossip-no, you wanted to b𝘳𝘢g. to show him off. he was yours.

"reckon he might be gay," a third girl cut in, her brummie accent making it sound even more blunt "𝘪i mean, ya ever seen him look at any of the girls ‘ere? always just lurkin�� in the shadows, not sayin’ a word."

when the others stared at her like she was talking mad, she just shrugged and added, "𝘳𝘦m𝘦mb𝘦𝘳 𝘳udy? 𝘯𝘦v𝘦𝘳 g𝘢v𝘦 us 𝘢 s𝘦c𝘰𝘯d 𝘭𝘰𝘰k 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 w𝘦 𝘧𝘰u𝘯d 𝘰u𝘵 𝘩𝘦 g𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦d 𝘧𝘰𝘳 g𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯' b𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰v𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 b𝘢ck 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦y… jus𝘵 s𝘢y𝘪𝘯', g𝘩𝘰s𝘵 c𝘰u𝘭d b𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 s𝘢m𝘦."

you laughed out loud at that. yeah, you remembered rudy-what a time that had been. you loved this job, and gossiping in the locker room was half the fun.

but god, they couldn't have been more wrong about ghost.

heading back toward the stage, you missed the rest of their conversation-something about putting on a special show. whatever. you had work to do.

as you stepped onto the stage and started moving, slow and deliberate around the pole, you felt his eyes on you. they grounded you, made you feel safe in a way you'd never needed before. but now? you weren't ready to give it up.

just as the next song started, you were sweetly smiling at a loaded old man who kept slipping you £50 bills when you spotted your dear colleague making her way toward simon. at first, you paid it no mind-he wasn't exactly approachable-but something about her attitude in the locker room rubbed you the wrong way.

you knew something was up when she trailed after him during his break. you had no more breaks-you were off in an hour-so all you could do was watch from the stage as she followed him to god knows where. it wasn't like simon not to be aware of his surroundings, so you knew he knew she was there.

it was the longest hour known to mankind. they hadn't come back, and you had to dance your arse off while nursing the sting of betrayal.

you'd thought you and simon had something special. turned out, you were just another bitch in a club.

once the hour was up, you didn't bother sweet-talking anyone-you stormed off the stage, ready to call it a night. a part of you wanted to find simon, just so you could punch his handsome face.

the only place that came to mind was the staff bathroom-the very same place he'd fucked you for the first time. did he take all the girls there? rounding the corner, you heard it.

grunts. and throat noises?

damn, she was a nasty one. it was still early for a strip club-all the girls were still here.

at that very moment, you had never been more disgusted by a man in your life. the fact that he'd let just anyone get on their knees for him in a public bathroom-like a fucking pig. you never had anything special, did you?

you had been a warm little convenient thing for him. easy. disposable.

you were ready to storm in and throw hands. at who? you still weren't sure.

you needed the money, sure, but you'd find another club. one of the main rules was no fighting among the girls-especially not over a dick. but fuck it. the second was: don't fuck the costumers.

you were seeing red. you felt dirty and humiliated.

hand on the door, you started pushing when strong arms wrapped around you, a firm hand clamping over your mouth. before you could react, you were dragged into the janitor's closet, the door shutting behind you.

"dumb little girl, thinking i put my dick anywhere." simon groaned in your ear, rubbing his hard on against your arse. "could see it in your pretty head, you're always overthinking, aren't you?"

the hand that had been clamped on your mouth loosened slightly, fingers trailing down to your throat instead, squeezing just the way you liked. "need my dick to turn that brain off, right lovie?" he had lowered his voice again, and you could hear the smirk in it.

his deep voice in your ear made it impossible to think straight. the way he kept rubbing didn't help either. you snapped back to reality when you heard it-his belt buckle.

you started thrashing a bit, trying to escape his grip, but it was pointless. you knew he'd never hurt you, but if he wanted you somewhere, you'd be there-no question.

"gonna take it like my good girl, right?" simon's voice dripped in your ear. "i must admit, your jealousy was fucking hot. the anger on your face? damn, got me hard in a minute."

all the noises in the background only heightened the moment. you could still hear the other girl in the bathroom, the music from the main stage, and the girls rushing up and down the corridor. you could get caught at any moment, but it was all so fucking thrilling.

at least they'd see he was yours. no one else's.

just as simon entered you, his hand back on your mouth to quiet your moan, the girl in the bathroom got caught by your manager. screams, tears, and apologies echoed from the closet.

that should have stopped simon; it was the reasonable thing to do. but fuck reason. you felt so good, so tight, so warm. and he'd been honest when he said your anger had turned him on.

fuck this job anyway.

so he kept going, and he was not gentle with it. over the weeks, he had known what you liked, how you liked it and how much you could handle. he had noticed your little thing for public intercourses. he was giving you the all package.

he kept on going with his filthy words in your ear, and by the way you clenched on his dick, he knew he was doing the right thing. fuck, this might be heaven.

"tsk, tsk, tsk," simon began as your voice grew louder and louder. "do you really want to get caught now?" he taunted, mocking you.

when you didn't answer, he kept pushing you further by taking his hand away from your lips, a stray of spit following the movement. it was filthy, just how he loved it. immediately, he felt you panic, your hand reaching for his to put it back.

"my dumb girl, still need me to do all the work," he added, nipping your neck as his grip on your face tightened, just like his hips. you were both close, and he knew it.

by now, nearly all the girls were just outside the closet, probably trying to sneak a peek at what was happening in the restroom. your manager's voice echoed through the space as he explained that this was a renowned establishment, and what your colleague had been doing was something reserved for lowlife places.

in your state, you were still grateful he was shouting, because if he hadn't, you were sure some of the girls would hear the sound of simon's thighs slapping against yours. just the thought of it pushed you over the edge, without warning.

"fuck." simon's grunts were unexpected, too. he usually had better control over himself, but you? you were just special.

you were slowly coming down from your high as simon gently rubbed you stomach, trying to calm your breathing as much as his.

"and where the fuck is the bouncer when you need him, aye?" your manager's voice boomed in the corridor. "no fucking customers, that's part of his fucking job!"

oh, she had been fucking a costumer.

"think i'm jobless again, lovie," simon whispered gently in your ear. "worth it," he continued, sweetly kissing your neck, the exact spot he had nipped just minutes before, surely leaving a mark.

yeah, fuck this job.

[akelafang]

Modern au idea

Geralt's a bartender with a teeny tiny massive crush on the local musician Jaskier who plays at his bar every week. His favorite part of the night is when Jaskier comes up to the bar after his set and chats away to him, high off the adrenalin of performing. That is until one night when instead of his usually bubbly voice calling out before he's even seated, Jaskier sits nervously at the bar and orders an angel shot

[vigna05]

Let's give them a minut <3

.

I won't lie to you guys, I Love this crackship XD

Oh and here, have the drawings

.

[homeskllet]

the bouncerrrrrr

was sketching him in class and that got me in the mood to do a full drawing of him.

the sketches in question.

[superhoeva]

bouncer!logan spotting you at a halloween party he's working the door for. it's annoyingly cute how you fumble about when you find out that the there's a door fee and you have no cash.

he lets you squirm for a bit, enjoying the troubled expression on your face before the pinch of your eyebrows forces a sigh from him.

"okay look," the man starts, arms crossing as he motions for you to lean in. thinking for less than a second, you follow the direction, not catching the way logan drags a hard stare across you and your skimpy costume. "'m really not supposed to be doing anything like this. but one, i don't give a fuck. two, you're cute enough to break a few rules for."

with his jaw clenching at the way you can't hide your pleased grin, logan continues.

"gonna let you in for free, but you're gonna have'ta owe me a little somethin' in return."

an eager nod from you has logan biting his tongue. his hand reaches to rub at he growing hair of his beard, pretending to consider his options. finally, he speaks, purposefully lowering his voice so you have to shift even closer.

"use this pretty face and get me a couple'a free drinks? since you don't have any cash and all..."

"okay," you nod again, teeth grazing the corner of your bottom lip. "what do you have a taste for?"

logan's skin heats at your question, shoving the first answer that comes to the very back of his mind.

"nothing too sweet." he's got to save that craving for the possibility of tasting you. "just beer. nothing special."

you're a wizard. logan's certain of it after you bring him the fourth bottle of beer, this time with a glass of something for yourself.

"jesus," logan huffs. "you're wringing 'em dry in there, pretty."

you shrug at the man, slinking atop the stool he brought to keep his back from aching during his downtime. he can feel your eyes on him as he chugs down half the bottle, staring at the bobbing of his adam's apple as he drinks.

lowering the bottle, logan swallows and turns to you. your gaze flicks to the side of him, pretending like you weren't just oogling the shit out of him and how tight the black v-neck he's sporting is.

logan takes the thick silence as a chance to really look at you. take in your costume of black spandex shorts, blue crop top, and empty thigh holsters.

"lara croft," logan finally figures it out, and you grin a little over the rim of your glass. "...you wear her well."

another smile from you and logan nearly squeezes the bottle so hard it breaks. a tiny laugh from you breaks another round of heated silence.

"i miss somethin'?"

"no," you promise him. "it's just... i've spent more time out here than in there. even after you let me in for free."

logan sniffs, meeting your eyes in his lean across from you.

"don't worry, ms. croft. i definitely don't mind."

after that, you end up staying with him for the rest of the night. leaving you his seat, logan standing all broad and strong whenever someone enters, letting you hold the cash he collects from each patron. he sends a wink your way every time he turns to hand out the money but nearly growls out at anyone that asks about you.

"keep movin', bub," logan warns the latest inquirer who lets his eyes linger a little too long for your liking. the guy isn't smart enough to heed the first warning, going as far as ignoring logan to lean in your direction.

"come find me later, yeah?"

you don't get a chance to answer. logan's got him by the back of the neck, shoving him out into the cool fall air of tonight's evening without a second thought. dusting off his hand, logan ignores the man's whines about the cash he wants back, and turns to find you blinking at him with a squirm.

he steps to where you now stand with his eyes hooded, slicking out one of the tens from your grasp. neither of you says a word as logan folds the bill, and encircles his arms around you. your breath hitches at the hand logan plants on one of your asscheeks. he glides the money into your back pocket, biting his lip.

"my shift ends in an hour. i can show you an actual party worth your time if you're up for it..."

warm and dazed, you nod. logan grins a little, squeezing the flesh under his hand before returning to his post of strong, crossed arms and back turned to you while he faces the door.

logan grins again, this time wider, at the way he can feel your gaze burning a hole into his ass.

[tfalpha88]

Bouncer 1/2

@rowdy317

[turboemmy]

i jumped on this meme too 💥💥

ft @juxtp0se and @galactoon ocs