#the riot club x reader

[blac-ivy]

Bitches complain about fandoms being dead but don't post about it themselves. Or even encourage the 4 or 5 writers breaking their backs carrying that fandom, with a like, a reblog or comment. You just want to consume the work and energy of others and can't even replenish their energy by showing your appreciation. The very least you can do for someone who provides entertainment or comfort or joy through their posts is give them a little ❤️

[bullet-clubs-bitch]

[zapreportsblog]

❝the bet❞

✭ pairing : guy bellingfield x reader

✭ fandom : riot club

✭ summary : (y/n) is the newest student at University of Oxford . She’s got the looks and brains to back her up and it doesn’t hurt that her body draws attention too, so as a bet the men of the infamous riot club see who can bed her first

✭ authors note : this was requested by @piastripoets you send this specific request in to @fandomnationwhore a while back but I’m here to fill in for them and write. At any moment you wish to be untagged do inform me :) your request had been riot club guy × reader where the reader is new to the college and the guys all try hitting on her but only guy is successful?

The ancient stone buildings of the University of Oxford, steeped in centuries of history, bore witness to the arrival of a new student, (Y/N). Her presence was a disruption in the tranquil aura of academia that had enveloped the venerable institution for generations.

As the taxi pulled up to the entrance of the storied university, (Y/N) stepped out, her confidence radiating like a force of nature. Tall and strikingly beautiful, with long flowing hair that shimmered like obsidian and eyes that sparkled with intelligence, she was a captivating sight that drew attention from all corners.

With a suitcase in one hand and a backpack slung casually over her shoulder, she navigated her way through the cobblestone paths that crisscrossed the historic campus. Students whispered in hushed tones as she passed, speculation and curiosity following her like a shadow.

But (Y/N) was more than just a pretty face. She was a brilliant mind, a prodigy in her field. Her academic achievements had earned her a scholarship to the hallowed halls of Oxford, where she intended to immerse herself in the pursuit of knowledge.

Unbeknownst to her, there was a group of young, wealthy, and powerful men at Oxford known as the Riot Club. They were known for their extravagant parties, their old-boy network connections, and their penchant for mischief. The members of the Riot Club had a reputation for always getting what they wanted, no matter the cost.

As (Y/N) settled into her dorm room, the men of the Riot Club gathered in a dimly lit, oak-paneled room within the heart of the university. Their eyes were fixed on (Y/N) from the moment she had set foot on campus, and now they hatched a plan to make her the object of their desires.

Jonathan, a charismatic and wealthy member of the Riot Club, proposed a reckless bet that sent a ripple of excitement through the room. "Gentlemen," he began, a sly grin on his face, "I propose a wager. Whomever among us manages to win the affections of the new student, (Y/N), shall be rewarded with whatever they desire."

The room fell silent for a moment as the gravity of the bet sank in. These were young men accustomed to getting their way, and (Y/N) presented an enticing challenge. Their motivations varied from pure desire to a desire for power, but all were equally determined to pursue her.

Little did (Y/N) know that her arrival at Oxford had set in motion a high-stakes game, one where her beauty, brains, and body had become the ultimate prize. The stage was set, and the Riot Club had cast their sights on the enigmatic newcomer, ready to do whatever it took to win her heart, and in doing so, get whatever they wanted.

The night air in Oxford carried a crisp, autumn chill as (Y/N) and a few of her newfound friends from the university made their way to a cozy pub nestled among the city's winding streets. The warmth and camaraderie of the evening were a welcome respite from the rigorous academic demands of their first week at Oxford.

Gathered around a wooden table, they exchanged stories, laughter, and dreams for the future. These friends had quickly become (Y/N)'s lifeline in this new, unfamiliar world. Their friendships provided solace and a sense of belonging in a place where she had initially felt like an outsider.

Meanwhile, across the dimly lit pub, members of the Riot Club had taken notice of (Y/N) once again. Their curiosity and desire to win the bet burned within them. Jonathan, the charismatic instigator of the wager, leaned over to his companions and whispered, "There she is, gentlemen. (Y/N), the key to our desires."

As the evening wore on, (Y/N)'s friends reluctantly excused themselves one by one, leaving her sitting alone at the table. She watched as they disappeared into the bustling Oxford nightlife, each bidding her a warm farewell.

It was precisely at this moment that Jonathan and his cohorts saw their opportunity. With feigned congeniality, they approached (Y/N)'s table, their designer suits and confident demeanor setting them apart from the pub's regular patrons.

"Hello, (Y/N)," Jonathan greeted her with a charming smile. "We couldn't help but notice that you were here all by yourself. Mind if we join you for a drink? We'd love to get to know our newest classmate better."

(Y/N) surveyed the group of men with a mixture of caution and suspicion. She had heard rumors about the Riot Club and their reputation for mischief. While she had hoped to keep a low profile and focus on her studies, it seemed that fate had other plans.

Politely but firmly, (Y/N) declined their invitation. "Thank you for the offer, but I think I'll call it a night. I've had a long day of classes, and I could use some rest."

Jonathan's smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly composed himself. "Well, the offer stands whenever you're ready. We look forward to getting to know you better, (Y/N)."

With a polite nod, (Y/N) gathered her things and made her way to the exit. The members of the Riot Club exchanged glances, realizing that this challenge might be more difficult than they had initially anticipated.

As (Y/N) stepped out into the cool Oxford night, she couldn't shake the feeling that the Riot Club's interest in her went beyond mere curiosity.

A few minutes after (Y/N) left the pub, she was making her way down a dimly lit street when she heard hurried footsteps approaching from behind. Turning around, she was surprised to see a young man, his breath slightly labored from running, catching up to her.

"Wait up!" he called out, concern evident in his voice. "It's unsafe for a young woman to be out this late, much less a beautiful one like yourself."

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, unsure of this stranger's intentions. She had been cautious about accepting help from anyone, especially after the encounter with the Riot Club, but there was something about the sincerity in his eyes that gave her pause.

He continued, "I couldn't help but notice you leaving the pub alone, and I thought I should offer my assistance. Would you like me to call a taxi for you?"

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment, contemplating the offer. The night was indeed lovely, and the brisk air was invigorating. "Thank you for your concern, but I think I'll walk back to the dorms. It's not far, and I could use the fresh air."

The young man nodded, understanding her decision. "Well, in that case, may I accompany you? It's always safer to have company, especially at night."

(Y/N) weighed her options. She didn't know this man, but his gesture seemed genuinely kind. After a brief moment of consideration, she nodded in agreement. "Alright, you can walk with me. My name is (Y/N), by the way."

He smiled warmly. "I'm Guy. Nice to meet you, (Y/N)."

As they strolled together through the quiet, moonlit streets of Oxford, conversation flowed easily between them. They discovered common interests in literature, their love for exploring new places, and a shared appreciation for the beauty of the historic city.

Guy, it turned out, was a fellow student at Oxford, pursuing a degree in history. He was well-read and passionate about his studies, and his knowledge of the university's rich history impressed (Y/N). In turn, she shared her own academic pursuits and aspirations, and they found themselves engaged in a lively discussion about their respective fields.

As they approached the dormitory building, (Y/N) realized that the walk had been far more enjoyable and less intimidating with Guy by her side. She turned to him with a grateful smile. "Thank you for walking me back, Guy. I appreciate it."

He smiled in return, his eyes reflecting the warmth of their newfound connection. "Anytime, (Y/N). It was a pleasure getting to know you. Perhaps we could continue our conversation over coffee sometime?"

(Y/N) nodded, feeling a sense of anticipation about what the future might hold. "I'd like that, Guy. Coffee sounds great."

They exchanged contact information, and as (Y/N) entered her dormitory, she couldn't help but reflect on the unexpected turn of events. What had started as a night filled with uncertainty and caution had led to a chance encounter with a kindred spirit. Little did she know that this serendipitous meeting with Guy would become a significant and transformative chapter in her life at the University of Oxford.

In the weeks that followed their chance encounter, (Y/N) and Guy had grown remarkably close. They spent hours together in the university's picturesque gardens, lost in conversations that ranged from philosophy to their personal dreams and aspirations. What started as a simple walk back from the pub had blossomed into a genuine and deep connection.

As they shared their thoughts and experiences, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel that Guy was different from the other men she had encountered at Oxford. He was respectful, considerate, and genuinely interested in her as a person, not just as a beautiful face. She had come to value his friendship immensely.

Meanwhile, the members of the Riot Club, continued to watch the unfolding drama with anticipation. Their bet was nearing its climax, and Jonathan, the instigator of the wager, couldn't help but feel confident.

"You're totally going to win the bet, Guy," one of his friends remarked, slapping him on the back as they gathered in their dimly lit meeting room.

Guy Bellingfield, a member of the Riot Club who had set his sights on (Y/N), grinned triumphantly. He had taken to heart the challenge and had spent countless hours trying to woo her. He believed he was making headway.

As the men celebrated their impending victory, (Y/N) happened to overhear a conversation from the shadows. Her curiosity piqued, she discreetly eavesdropped on their exchange.

"Now all you've got to do is sleep with her, and boom, you've won," one of the Riot Club members whispered to Guy, a sinister grin on his face.

(Y/N)'s heart sank as the implications of their conversation became clear. She had been nothing more than a pawn in their game, a means to an end in their quest to win a bet. It was a revelation that left her feeling used and manipulated.

[macabr3-barbi3]

I AM VERY NORMAL ABOUT THIS STORY

“He considered how happy his mother would be to meet you. To take you from her would be as cruel as heaven taking you from him” Hazel this broke me 😭

A Doe in Fall (Part 9)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵

Part 9 - Shiny Things

Ephi moves in, and Ruth reads you like an open book.

「Warnings/Promises: HumanAlastor x Fem! BurlesqueReader, Reference to domestic abuse of non-reader character, fucks, crows, swans, emotions be emotioning, so many birds, I don’t think reader is Aromantic I think she’s just stubborn, Cliff diving is just a joke do not follow people off cliffs, everyone is kicking reader’s ass in some way, my apologies to parts of Texas but not Texas as a whole」

Long time no see ! My head wasn’t in the right space for this story, and my head was also literally not doing well. But! Reading glasses helped since I’m writing on my phone like 7 inches from my face. the goal is Wednesday updates~ there’s about four parts already written so we’ve got a month of runway 👌🏼 Wednesday mornings are ‘God, That’s Good’ by @macabr3-barbi3 and nights are ADIF!

🎶 last time on A Doe In Fall 🎶 : you came home from your first week staying officially at Alastor’s to find your estranged sister waiting on your stoop.

this isn’t sexy but just like minors come on, MDNI? This blog is a sex shop

It’s not that you hated your sister, it’s that you resented her. You could love someone and not like them an ounce… but unfortunately when she left so did your familial love. Which meant all that held you together now was distrust and an obligation to a dead woman. 

“So things didn’t pan out up north?” You waved her into your apartment, agitation apparent in even the gesture of your arm. 

“It’s peachy! Just need to lay low a bit.” She said it with a chipper voice while looking around your apartment like she paid for it. “Wow you weren’t lying about the no money, huh? Talk about a shoebox.”

Charming. 

“Well, Ephi, you’re welcome to leave.” While you didn’t understand the name it wasn’t your business to question what someone asked to be called. Especially considering your own dual identity. You may have disliked the woman but human decency still hung to the bones of the relationship you called your sisterhood.

An obnoxious chuckle, “Nah it’ll do! Just the one single bed?”

“Why would I have more than one bed?”

A deep sigh from her, “Still last to be picked by the fellas, sis?” Her hand passed over your dresses hanging in the open closet, “The ugly duckling was always your favorite story.”

The fine hairs rose on the back of your neck, a cat’s hackles moving as the anger bristled through your body. You opened your mouth to shout all the ways you were not the ugly one in the room, hand already in the air to direct her attention to the dried, hanging flowers covering the far wall. How many people threw flowers at her feet? How many proposals were shouted to her? Wedding rings slipped off fingers and into pockets for her? 

The air in your lungs went flat as a small fire of embarrassment rose in your gut.

How could she so quickly reduce you to a little girl again? Taking the bait for a fight you couldn’t win, because she wasn’t listening to anything but her own voice. Biting the inside of your cheek, your hand fell back to your side.

“You can take it. I’ll just be by for clothes now and then. Been staying with a friend closer to work.” Flipping through your mind you tried to catalog your valuables. What did you absolutely need to not turn up missing?

Ephi sat on the bed and crossed her legs in her best imitation of a lady. “Staying with Mister Fancy Pants?” A smile that reminded you of your childhood. A smile that said, “I won’t tell mom!” Right before turning and running to your mother’s ear.

“No.” 

A giggle two octaves above her usual tone, “Sure, okay! No skin off my back.”

You took your time to gather the items you had forgotten first, then the items you didn’t want her to have. Unsure how exactly to tell Alastor why a week into sharing his home officially you were already redecorating, you left that for your future self to figure out. The first item was obvious.

An angel statue your mother kept on her nightstand. You wrapped it in some newspaper, trying not to look in her direction. 

Your sister chased dick like most people chased liberty. Something she shared with your mother. Which was her right, but it rubbed you the wrong way how she would always forget everyone else in her life when she had a man to call her own. A fair weather friend, at that. 

“How’s Howard?” The dick that took her away so many years ago.

She abandoned the lady act and rummaged through your cabinets, “Who’s that?”

Right.

A gold coin on a necklace. You slipped it inside a sock. 

“So, then, who is the man of the hour?”

Ephi began opening the dresser drawers, poking here and there. “Whaddya mean! I am an independent woman.”

You weren’t sure that had ever been true. While your mother had drilled it into your skull to never place yourself in the need of a man, she always seemed to throw her heart (and house keys and purse strings…) at the feet of any man willing to love her. 

“Love” her. 

There was no love in any of that. A common problem of confusing love with any and all intense emotions affected your mother and many others.

Slashed furniture is not adoration. Breaking windows is not a love language. Bruises are not affection.

Your hands ran down the bag’s shapeless sides. Without thinking, you smiled. Adoration. Love languages. Affection. You had them and the knowledge of their secrets all to yourself. 

Secrets you didn’t need slipping out. Secrets your sister couldn’t hold to save her life, or yours for that matter. You hurried around the room grabbing knick-knacks and photos and jewelry. Alastor would be at work soon, you wondered if you should call to warn him. This time not about a hot headed flatfoot but a nosey sibling.

You’d tell him later. No reason to talk to Brenda again. Quickly your leather bag got full and heavy. What was supposed to be a casual foray into sharing a home already turning into a full on move. 

Everything you needed and a few things no one ever would, because damn would Ephi pawn them the very second she needed something, were safely zipped away. Any plans to relax at home before work were abandoned and you just marched to the door. 

A random memory flashed behind your eyes,  washing Alastor’s hair in the tub until the water ran clear. Why now? The only memory shared in your apartment. And it was an awful one. But, it had Alastor. That gave it value. 

“Hey, if any men come by looking for me you just don’t answer, okay?” You forced your face to relax, to show the sincerity you worked so hard to keep to yourself, “Please, Ephi.”

Her smile widened past unnaturally white teeth, no money for a room but clearly cash for peroxide tooth gel, “Ooh, why? Little sister make some enemies?”

Why couldn’t she just fucking agree?

“My job sometimes attracts crazies. I don’t tell them where I live but occasionally they figure it out. They’ve gotten violent before so…just don’t answer the buzzer. They’ll say they’re damn near anyone to get you to let them up.” You stopped the nervous twisting of your bag’s handle, “Boyfriend, boss, detective. They've tried it all.”

“Aww, sis. Look at you.” She leaned her full figure against the open door frame, arm raised up like a pin up. Ephi was always effortlessly enchanting when her mouth was closed. “Stalkers? Mama would be so proud. Finally learning how to catch a man’s attention.”

The tears that stung your eyes were inspired partly by anger and partly by pain. They came so suddenly you could only laugh in response. 

“Lovely to see your new name hasn’t changed you, Ephi. I’ll be back occasionally. Don’t steal anything, no strangers over. Spare key is in the bowl by the door.” 

“Oh hey!” 

You turned back.

“I do need some cash. Until I find work.”

The numbness blanketed you with a chill. 

“I’ve got like, three bucks. Is that fine?”

Why did you ask that? You knew she could very well say it wasn’t fine and you’d be obligated to offer to get more. Atleast, that’s what you’d have done when you were younger. How easily you both slipped into old roles. Or perhaps she never grew out of hers. 

She mulled it over, “Yeah that’ll be fine.” Her hand came out and waited for the bills.

An open palm waiting for your money.

You pulled the folded bills from your wallet and set them in her hand without touching her skin. 

“Thanks sis!” She turned and closed the door before you could reply.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The other dancers shot you a look when your bag jingled and clanked as it hit the floor, you wincing as you remembered the ceramic figurine.

“You…. going somewhere, hun? The detective got you on something?”

A quick shake of your head. You hadn’t considered the optics. Luckily it was early enough the room wasn’t very busy. A few select missing women would have pried for more information. Your hands fidgeted, unsure what to do. On the way in you saw some newer talent getting their feet on stage, maybe watch them? Too early for make up. 

A loving voice from Ruth, always a savior, “Cigarette?”

You melted at the offer. Alastor wasn’t a fan of the smell so you were slyly cutting back. 

She popped a sun bleached folding chair open and set it in between you both as a footrest. So many broken and ruined chairs littered the sides of the dingy roof, you were shocked she found a good one on her first try.

“Alright, tell me what happened with that detective. Do I need to go rough up a city employee?” Ruth leaned back and settled into her chair with a creak and a whine of the wood.

You needed a second, eyes flitting around as she handed her cigarette for you to take a drag. What could you say? What did she already know? You’d not spoken about it since she helped shoo him away but the appearance of half your belongings haphazardly stuffed into a bag clearly had her alarms going off. 

“So remember the guy who came by for me? Tall handsome one.”

She nodded enthusiastically, “Yes! Of course. Don’t forget a name like his. Or face.” She whistled like a crude man trying to get a woman’s attention in the most annoying way.

“The detective thinks he did something to Tommy. That he was jealous. Which is ridiculous-,” you felt a nervous energy slip down your arms. 

An abrupt laugh, “That string bean couldn’t open a heavy window. He didn’t do shit to Tommy. What a stupid thing to say.”

Did she notice how much you’d been holding your breath? A deep sigh as you let it go. “Exactly! He doesn’t even know about what happened that night with that guy and Tommy’s arrangement; it’s too mortifying. Anyway, the detective has been hounding me about it. I don’t wanna cause trouble.” You ashed the cigarette and held it out for her, “Stuff is still new with him and me, so I didn’t tell the detective his details or work anything. Why would I? So he can harass him too?” The words all tumbled out so quickly. A faucet turned too far to the left.

“Fair.” A few passes back and forth in what you hoped was a comfortable silence and not an indication she was piecing together things you needed to remain unlinked. Finally, “Didn’t realize you two were still seeing each other. Longest one you’ve kept for awhile now.”

Looking up, you marveled at the view of the open sky. Not a cloud in sight. A smile crept across your face, the heat of the sun warming you from the inside out. The slightest chill to the air warning you of Fall. “Yeah.”

She asked what made him so special and you didn’t know where to start. “The obvious,” you began. “He’s so-,”

“Clever.” “Handsome.”

You’d spoken at the same time, her attempt at soothsaying failing miserably.

“Clever, Ruth. He’s very clever. Handsome men are a dime a dozen. But he’s sharp as a tack.” She rolled her eyes and waved her hand around for you to go on. You let your mind toss out the shiniest examples. “He’s so skilled. He knows how to hunt and take apart animals. He can fish. Cooks like a dream. He knows how to clean clothes well and how to use a washing board.” 

“Useful.” She mused. That isn’t what you meant. You weren’t trying to list off his features like a new appliance. It was just— impressive. He was well rounded.

“And he’s terribly kind. He’s always,” how to say it delicately, “going out of his way to help others solve their problems.” That seemed accurate and vague enough. You chuckled to yourself, remembering him at the kitchen table, “His face lights up so bright when he’s talking about his hobbies. Like, I can see his soul glittering behind his eyes and suddenly I’m just as interested in whatever he’s talking about as he is.” You let your eyes close around the mental image of his surprised face every time you complimented him. But they shot open when she began giggling, “What?”

“You’re in looooove,” her foot kicked yours, “I know that look. Head over heels already. Talking about him like he made the fucking stars.”

Wide eyed and stunned, was it written on your face so plainly? “Oh don’t say that. It makes me so uncomfortable. We’re just enjoying each other's company.” When she moved to give you the cigarette again you didn’t take it. “All I was saying was—,” fuck, what were you saying? That he was special? “He’s a very nice person to spend my limited time with. It’s a finite resource and all.”

With a shrug she took another puff, “What’s to be uncomfortable about? Falling in love is a wonderful thing, hun.”

Was it? Honestly, had she ever considered how much damage came with loving someone? It was putting your heart outside your body. Letting someone else carry it around and just praying they didn’t hurt you, or get hurt, or go off and die and take your heart with them. Why would anyone willingly do such a silly thing?

“Cheesy. And kind of creepy. Falling? How do I get back up if things go south?”

You’d successfully avoided emotional attachment to nearly every lover you’d taken. The way women seemed to get struck down dumb by any old John or Jane just wasn’t appealing. Love was for fools. The weak. The dependent.

Or, so you had whispered to yourself as you pretended to not be home when suitors came knocking, as you avoided ringing phones, as you apologized and slid out of restaurant seats after awkward dinners. 

“If you fall hard enough, you don’t get back up.” She said it like it was a good thing. “You’ll love them forever, even if you hate em.”

That was the problem, too. How could she not hear that as she said it? All loss of control of your own heart and emotions was simply bad. People do irrational things for love.

You shivered, “That sounds absolutely horrid, Ruth.”

“Aah,” she dismissed you with a raspberry blown between her lips, “For the right man, you’ll find yourself enjoying the trip down!” 

“Nah, I’m not fan of heights. No dick is worth that.”

“Is that all men are to you? Sex?” She guffawed, taken aback by your comment. Which was odd, given it was Ruth. 

But, Yes.

Well. No . But — he wasn't a man. He was something different. The exception to the rule. Alastor was different.

Or, fine. 

Yes, he was a man. 

No, you didn’t see them as just sex. It was easier to say people were just pleasure and not stop to think about life any other way. Things got complicated when you added another person. Life became sloppy and uncontainable. If you stopped and considered the lives behind the people you used to lead on and let go before things got too difficult, you’d just wound yourself. It was easier to stop at sex.

When you could. Which you could, before. When sex was a token you traded back and forth with someone. But Alastor didn’t accept that currency. You couldn’t hand him your body and get brief but lovely companionship back. Your value had to lie elsewhere, the things you set before him and the wonders he had to offer were much richer in their worth than what you’d ever had before. 

Sometimes it felt like you slid him a penny and he handed you a quarter. You found yourself scrounging up the petty coins of your worth and trying to save them up for him. Practicing your makeup, learning how he liked his coffee, remembering all of the things he said he hated and loved. Attempting to stop smoking. Every act was another shiny offering for him. 

A crow scrounging the park grounds for glittering trash. Not very swan-like, you thought.

“You really don’t think you’re falling for him?” Ruth put out the cigarette in the coffee can beside her. As you turned to argue with her you saw her face full of amusement and incredulousness. It was rhetorical.

The argument withered and you could only pout, everyone that day seeming to catch your tongue, “I don’t wanna think about it. I’ll get scared and run away. He’ll figure out how little I have to give eventually. If anything more is gonna happen, it’ll happen. I’ll just… let it. Why ruin it with… saying childish things.”

“You’re naive but that’s okay. Enjoy the honeymoon stage while you can.”

Your eyes rolled, “What if he doesn’t feel the same? Why embarrass myself.” When you sighed the weight of just how heavy and true that sentiment was resonated in your stomach. Telling him you were falling in love? Alastor was a killer. His passion was singular. What good was a dame to him? No, worse than worthless. A liability. A witness. A weak point in the walls he so carefully crafted. If he knew you were in love with him he’d just end things sooner than they would have naturally.

“Dontcha wanna know if he’s a waste of that precious time, then?”

You cackled, choking on your spit. Alastor? He was the most worthwhile thing you’d ever encountered. Time with him suddenly had …. Value. That fucking word again. But time with him, it was slow enough to be deep and rich, but so fleeting you already felt a mourning mood for how much closer you were to the end.

You could only shake your head, “Wait, Ruth, didn’t you get divorced?”

“Shhh that doesn’t count!” She rose and stretched her long arms up to the sun and then out to the horizon, “Plus that’s how I know what I’m talking about! After the honeymoon phase? You’ll be arguing about laundry and wishing you were strangers again. Fighting about children and lawncare.”

As your finger nervously came to your mouth, teeth cutting into the nail, you considered how if Alastor complained about laundry and you could argue back with the comfort of knowing neither would simply leave, that’d be….nice. The safety of being honest without the fear of the other person giving up on you. Was that love? 

And did that matter at all? 

You’d thought earlier you knew the answers but now, when someone else said it, you got scared of those words. 

Ruth must have put a spell on you. As you and a bevy of others danced in line on stage, arms over shoulders and legs kicking high enough to show cheek and jiggle the soft skin of your thighs and stomach, you felt butterflies in your gut. Alastor would be picking you up in a matter of hours. 

A few men sent you drinks, which you repaid with a wink and a kiss blown across the bar before downing the liquor. It was the usual routine. You hadn’t felt nerves to see Alastor quite like that since sheepishly picking out “comfortable” shoes.

Alastor’s eyes widened when he took the bag from you, not noticing your attempts to avoid making eye contact. He let out a chuckle, his best attempt at stifling the joking question, “Already moving in?”

He realized quickly enough that wasn’t a good joke. Not when he finally looked up and saw your stare was distant. 

“Everything okay, dear?” He walked to open your door for you, and you nodded a thank you and an affirmative.

Should you rip off the band aid? Should you just say it and see what happens? 

When you turned to look at him and blurt out a confession, you were stopped by the profile of his face. What a gentle face. A lovely jaw. Even his bones were better than other people’s. What were you doing in this man’s car? What little pieces of glittering trash were you about to toss at him on a random Friday night?

No, in the books you read, confessions were always grande affairs. Fireworks and dinner parties and passionate kisses in rain storms.

You’d have to put a little effort into this. His brows rose as he clocked your staring. Eyes on the road, smirk pulled to the right, his hand came to rest on your thigh.

He deserved something much better than whatever you had to offer. Something unlike yourself entirely. 

The drive home, and yes you let yourself linger on the word instead of shoo it away, you watched a deer jump across the dirt road just past the bridge. 

“The bucks chase the does. It’s part of their mating ritual. I guess it’s not unlike the ‘playing hard to get’ some women like. The longer the chase, the prouder the buck to snag his prize.”

You laughed, “Women don’t like it, I don’t think. Well, some do I am sure but… If we don’t do that then people think we’re easy. We need plausible deniability. If people learn we put out we can claim we didn’t really want to and save some face.”

Alastor grimaced, “Gross.”

Unseen, you nodded and turned to watch the buck leap after its doe. 

“Kind of funny, you chased me down, didn’t you?” Alastor’s comment pulled you back to him.

“Oh yes. That makes you my doe.” Your arm came to rest against the car door, the trees slowly rolling by in the darkness. “Reminds me of the small freckles across your shoulders.”

“My mighty buck!” He fawned, in jest, pretending to collapse into your lap. You shoved him back up and behind the wheel proper. “Well given the chance, I’d chase you for miles.” His hand flexed on your leg.

“To Texas?” You asked. Your usual end point.

“Further.”

“How far?”

“There is no limit. I’d … run right off a cliff, head first, if you were waiting at the bottom.” He took his hand back, needing both to hold the wheel. What he said hit him harder than he had intended. Was it too much? A tad too dramatic? A nervous clearing of his throat, followed by an awkward laugh to put more space between him and the confession. 

The idea of you making Alastor chase you was ridiculous. You enjoyed the games you played with others, but you were never meant to be caught. If you wanted that, you’d just…give yourself. As you had done with him. Only him. The first and last person you ever wanted to give yourself over to in any sense. “And if I just… lied down and let you catch me? Would that make me a poorly earned prize?”

“Nope! That’d make me a lucky duck. And make you quite smart, if I do say so myself.” A wink. “Why run from such a catch like me?”

You landed a smack on his arm, light and playful. 

A truly comfortable silence settled in, just the sound of the car trembling over the rough road. The newest model Ford was still as loud as the last, but luckily you were far from others. 

The words had lingered like smoke, and you felt the need to address them.  

“Don’t actually do that though. If I run off a cliff or something stupid, don’t you dare follow me.”

Alastor just laughed, wasn’t that what you were doing for him already? Diving into hell for some inexplicable reason after Alastor. He wasn’t expressing some lack of self preservation, he was merely letting you know he’d reciprocate the fall. You hadn’t made him run after you, but instead seemed to just….rest your neck between his canines. And trust. 

If you were to go to heaven, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. It was too late to redeem his soul now. How far was heaven from hell, anyways? If the devil survived the plummet perhaps he could scale the walls of his enclosure and breach the gates.

Though, as he thought about the idea of heaven, he considered how happy his mother would be to meet you. To take you from her would be as cruel as heaven taking you from him. 

Maybe he could make a plea. To just be able to see you from below. 

But if the knowledge you were happy and safe was all he had, he’d be a richer man in hell than he’d ever been on earth. It’d be enough. 

He’d just need to broadcast his radio waves a little further for your listening pleasure.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies

@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @fizzled-phoenix , @star-kujo-platinum

, @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl @smoky000

@hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain

@harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby

@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12

[vangelini]

Boyfriend For The Night (Part 2) | Spencer Reid x Reader

Part 1, Finale!

Summary: After a few too many drinks, Spencer takes you back to your place, and you say something you might regret when you sober up…

Tags: fluff, more pining idiots, BAU!Reader, Fem!Reader.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption

Words: 2.3k (whoopsie)

|

“Reid is my boyfriend, for the night,” you smiled, taking a sip of your drink. It was, supposedly, just for the night, but Spencer liked the sound of that.

And, admittedly, so did you.

“Just for the night?” Morgan laughed, his bright, white smile teasing you two.

“Well, we’ll see how he does and go from there,” you joked. Reid couldn’t help but laugh a little at your comment.

“Well, I intend to impress,” he rubbed his thumb along the back of your hand, laughing under his breath while looking down at you. Penelope hit Morgan on the shoulder, drawing his attention toward Reid’s little look of love. He just laughed, turning back to his conversation with Hotch.

“Those two are so screwed.”

The night went on as one usually does. Some of the team split off into different games, dancing, or their own little conversations. You and Spencer were of the latter group.

“I can’t explain WHY The Princess Bride is my favorite movie, it just is!” You feigned defensiveness, leaning into the seat behind you, laughing. “Why don’t your profile it out of me,” you smiled at Spencer. He laughed, taking a drink of his club soda.

“Fine,” he set his drink down, turning to you. “I think…” he leaned down, leveling his eyes with yours, glancing between both of your irises. “I think it’s probably because, ever since you were a child, you’ve been escaping with fantasy,” he sat up. “It would be safest to assume you identify with Buttercup, that you long for someone close to you to come sweep you off your feet and solve all your problems,” he narrowed his eyes. You looked gently up at him. “But,” he sighed, leaning back. “Knowing you, I’d say you like Westley,” he smiled. “You grew up less wealthy and have worked your whole life to protect the people you love. It’s a movie that makes you believe there’s hope in the world,” he took a long sip of his drink.

Your jaw hung open in shock. “When did you learn so much about The Princess Bride,” you smiled, leaning your head on your hand.

“Garcia made me watch it,” he shrugged, laughing.

“Okay, fine…” You took a sip of your drink, head spinning a little. “So what’s your favorite movie, then, hm?”

He didn’t hesitate before responding, like he had clearly been wanting to talk about it. “L’age D’or,” he spoke with his hands. “It’s a-a seminal surrealist film that was actually co-written by Salvador Dali,” he smiled wide. “It used Dali’s classic absurd style and shocking imagery to critique the bourgeoisie and the Catholic Church. It, uh, was so controversial, actually, that it led to riots and bans,” he continued on about vignettes and taboos, but you just stared at him with a smile, eyes glazed over with pure adoration. Some time after he went on about Luis Buñuel’s other works, you realized you were absolutely whipped for this nerd.

You must have been off in la-la-land, because Reid got a little closer to you to get your attention. “Are you okay?” You snapped up.

“What, yeah, I’m good,” you smiled, smoothing down your slacks. “I’m gonna get another drink,” you smiled nervously, standing up a little too quickly. You stumbled a little, causing Reid to reach out and steady you with his hands. Morgan noticed.

“Hey, Pretty Girl, how many of those have you had?” He gestured to your glass.

“Probably too many,” you smiled half heartedly, realizing you were likely a little more than tipsy. You also started to notice how tightly Spencer’s hands steadied you. “It’s getting late, anyways, I’ll go call a cab,” you started to reach for your phone, but Spencer stepped in.

“Hey, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Pretty Boy is right,” Morgan added. “Someone should take you home.”

“Guys, Im an adult, I don’t need a babysitter,” you laughed, speech slightly slurred. Yeah, you were definitely drunk.

“It’s fine, I can take her home,” Spencer gave a tight-lipped smile to Morgan. He turned to you, ignoring Morgan’s small, concerned smirk. “It’s not safe to go home alone while inebriated,” he took his hands off of you, and you noticed how he flexed them a little. Interesting. You would have to analyze that in the morning, maybe when you weren’t so intoxicated. He pulled his crossbody bag over himself and grabbed your hand, leading you from the booth. “I’m still your boyfriend, for the night,” he smiled.

You couldn’t help but giggle at him.

“Okay, okay, whatever, pretty boy,” your hand tightened around his. The nickname felt different, coming from your lips, he thought. Somehow, it seemed like less of a nickname and more of an observation. He shook it off. “I don’t live far from here, we can walk,” you spoke as you both stepped out of the bar, the biting cold air hitting your skin. You wrapped your arms around Spencer’s, his biceps wrapped up nicely by his cotton sweater. You smiled, and, you couldn’t see it, but so did he.

“Sounds good,” he barely squeaked out, just content to be settling into your touch.

The walk was peaceful, passing by a river or a park, street lights illuminating the sidewalk. They cast a warm glow on the night, shining in Spencer’s eyes, glimmering as he glanced down at you stumbling by his side. The breeze was slightly shielded by Spencer’s towering figure. He relished the feeling of your grip, a sense of security he didn’t know he craved. And, for a moment, it really did feel like you two were a couple.

He helped you up the steps to you apartment. “Such a gentleman,” you joked. He laughed lowly.

“I’m trying to make sure you don’t eat concrete, but if you’d rather I didn’t-”

“I’m kidding, i’m kidding~” you slurred out, pulling out your keys. It danced around the lock a few times, since your vision was blurred, but with some help from your temporary boyfriend, the door pushed open and you were met with the warmth of your apartment. You couldn’t help but sigh, throwing yourself down on the couch. Spencer locked the door behind the two of you, watching you kick off your shoes.

“You should take your contacts out before you fall asleep,” he put his bag down. “Sleeping with them in can increase your risk of infection up to eight times,” he more than scurried over to your kitchen, filling you up a glass of water.

“Speeence, that’s so much work,” you threw a throw blanket around your arms.

“I know, sweetheart, but I don’t want you coming in to work tomorrow with dry eyes and corneal damage,” he set the glass down on the coffee table, kneeling in front of you. You were so tired, you didn’t notice the nickname. He didn’t seem to, either. “Come on, you need to take them out,” he reached for your arm, taking a hold of your wrist. His voice was gentle, laced with a genuine concern, and his touch was reverent. As you looked down to where his sturdy hands held you, you realized, for a moment, how deeply you cared for him.

He knew alcohol made your inhibitions nonexistent, but he didn’t expect you to start crying. “Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong,” he grabbed the side of your face, wiping a tear off your cheek. His hands were just so soft, it made you tear up more.

“I-I don’t know,” you sobbed out. You really didn’t know.

“Hey, it’s okay, drink this,” he handed you the glass of water. As you took a sip, he moved his hands to your knees, soothing small circles into them. “Why are you sad?”

You sniffled, looking down at his face. His brows knitted together, eyes beaming up into your own. You could have SWORN you saw his heart beating against his sweater. “Because I love you being my boyfriend, and I’m tired of pretending I don’t,” you were a little embarrassed, but you were drunk, so it barely mattered.

Spencer’s heart rate spiked, and a rosy tint started rising in his face. “You don’t mean that,” he soothed, voice just above a whisper.

“I do,” you looked straight into his eyes. They were glazed over in something you couldn’t describe and probably never would.

“According to research, a-about 63% of people have admitted to saying something they regret while intoxicated,” he reasoned out, holding onto your hand.

“Another study found that 54% of those confessions are things they genuinely feel, Spence,” he realized you clearly weren’t out-of-it enough to not hit him with his own statistics. He couldn’t speak, and he really couldn’t think either. His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, eyes dancing around your face. His heart jumped up and down as an innocent desire swept through his veins.

Did you really mean that? Was he not the only one who stole small glances in the bullpen? Was he not alone in his heartbreak when watching someone else flirt with you? Surely, this was a symptom of the alcohol. Maybe-

“It’s so hot in here,” you broke the silence, breaking away from him. He swallowed hard, eyes moving hesitantly away from your face.

“I’ll uh, I’ll change your thermostat,” he stood up, moving towards the hall.

“Thank you, Spence,” you lied down, sniffling once more.

He gave up on having you take out your contacts or change your clothes. He just spread another blanket over you, shutting off the lights. He even took the liberty of setting your alarm. Before he left, he heard you mumble a small, “Good night, Spence.”

He smiled, sighing.

“Good night.”

—

“Hey, Pretty Girl, didn’t have too much fun last night, did you?” Morgan laughed. He couldn’t see you rolling your eyes under the sunglasses that shielded you from another migraine.

“Ha-ha,” you set your stuff down. “That’s me laughing at your funny joke.”

“Honestly, I’m shocked you didn’t show up with Boy Genius, this morning,” he crossed his arms. “Leaving together from the bar, going back to your place-“

“Derek, nothing happened,” you huffed. At least, you THOUGHT nothing happened. The events of the last twelve hours were an honest blur.

“Okay, okay, I yield,” he threw up his hands, going back to his own work. You turned to see Spencer walking in at about the same time.

He had replayed your words in his mind about a thousand times, maybe more. Did you really mean it when you said you loved having him as your boyfriend? Maybe you said that to every guy who took you home drunk. He thought going through all the possibilities would make it easier to face you, in the morning. He proved himself wrong.

You pulled off your glasses, standing up. As he sat down at his desk, you leaned over it.

“I wanted to say thank you for last night,” you spoke softly, not out of secret, but out of vulnerability.

“It’s no trouble,” he smiled. “I just wanted to make sure you got home safe,” he looked up at you, moving some files around his desk.

“I really, really appreciate it,” you spoke apologetically. “I wasn’t too much… trouble, was I?” You smiled nervously. “When i’m inebriated, my inhibitions tend to…” you trailed off, trying to find the words.

“Disappear?” He smiled, laughing a little.

“Yeah…”

“You weren’t any trouble,” he reassured you, voice steady. “Actually, it was,” he smiled. “It was nice.”

“Nice?” you laughed, feeling your headache melt away at his soft voice.

“Being able to take care of you,” he defended playfully. “I don’t usually get to do that; it’s usually the other way around,” he tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear, looking up at your soft smile. “There was something I wanted to talk about, though…” Your heart skipped a beat.

“Crap, did I do something weird last night? I’m so sorry, if I did, I never-“

“No, no, nothing like that,” he laughed nervously. “You uhm…” he grabbed the back of his neck. He wanted to know if you really felt the same way he did. He wanted to know if you would hold his hand like that while sober. He wanted you. “Would you like to, maybe, get together sometime again?” He squeaked out, smiling shyly. “Maybe, this time, without the alcohol?” You smiled at his offer.

“I absolutely would, Spence,” you giggled out, tapping a nail habitually on the screen dividing your desks. He sighed a sigh of relief.

“Cool,” he pursed his lips together in a smile.

“Cool,” you mirrored him subconsciously.

Maybe it wasn’t just for the night.

(‼️💕THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO REQUESTED PART TWO. REQUESTS ALWAYS OPEN💕‼️)

[cybrsan]

Light It Up! — K.HJ, P.SH

STORY SUMMARY: The year is 2077, and the world is a lawless dystopia where tech giants and major corporations hold all the power. Kim Hongjoong and Park Seonghwa are an infamous criminal duo who have made names for themselves fighting against the "techno brainwashing" of society. Discovering they're on the brink of getting caught, they decide to go out with a bang—and who better to help them than their favorite plaything?

PAIRING: Kim Hongjoong x F!Reader x Park Seonghwa

RATING/GENRE: M ; smut ; criminal / cyberpunk / dystopian AU

WORD COUNT: 4.4k

WARNINGS: Arson, breaking and entering, clubbing, alcohol + drug use, pet names (doll, precious), rioting, violence

NSFW WARNINGS: Choking, creampie, cum stuffing, cunnilingis, deep throating, exhibitionism, fire play, fingering, free use, hair-pulling, knife play (light), multiple orgasms, play party, public sex, spitroasting, sub drop, threesome, overstimulation

A/N: Don't blame me, blame the MATZ m/v.

LINKS: Masterlist, cross-posted on AO3.

“And… there!” 

After days of meticulous planning, organizing, and making shady, back-alley deals, it’s finally done. The last camera is in position—everything is ready for the big event. All that’s left for you to do is step back and admire your work.  

Switching on your illegally procured holodeck, you press a few buttons and watch as the space around you completely transforms. What was once an abandoned warehouse is now a club that could rival any in the city center. Neon lights pulse to heavy synth, serving bots whiz from place to place,  and the makeshift bar looks inviting enough with rows of expensive bottles on display. Whether or not the liquor in the bottles is worth the price, well… Hopefully people will be too distracted to notice. 

The focal point, the one thing you are most proud of, is the transparent stage that extends at least 15 feet above the dance floor. Taking in the grandeur of it all is more than enough to get you excited for what's to come. You're certain that Hongjoong and Seonghwa will put on the performance of the century. 

Today is incredibly important for both of them, and the fact that they have trusted you enough to include you more than makes up for the long hours and strenuous work. They’re currently out setting up their "grand finale," which they have been painstakingly cryptic about. You have your suspicions, not that you need or even want to know the specifics. 

A low whistle pierces the air. "You really outdid yourself this time, doll." 

You turn to look at Seonghwa as he enters, and your heart practically skips a beat when you take in his appearance—he must have changed in preparation for the big event. His hair, pulled away from his face, lets you focus on his features; dark eyes, full lips, all beautifully accented by his smoky makeup. His outfit is one you haven't seen on him before, but it suits him perfectly, from the gold chains hanging around his neck to the deep cut of his silk shirt.  

"Thanks, Hwa," you reply bashfully, dusting off your hands on your jeans. "Just trying to do my part." 

He approaches you, a smirk tugging at his lips. The way he stares at you, drinks you in… it makes you feel like a prey animal who has found itself in the sights of a predator. You blush and cast your gaze to the floor, suddenly fascinated by the specks of dirt at your feet. 

"And you have done it spectacularly." He lifts your chin with his pointer finger, forcing you to look him in the eyes. "I think you deserve a reward." 

Seonghwa drops his gaze to your lips for just a moment before he leans in, closing the space between you with an almost agonizing slowness. The kiss is gentle and commanding all at once and you shiver, immediately pulling him closer. The fatigue, the stress—all of it melts away.

His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling on it with just enough force to make you gasp. His tongue slides expertly against yours, the taste of him something sweet and darkly rich, like cherry liquor. It’s addictive. But the moment ends too soon for your liking, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

Seonghwa doesn’t pull away entirely, resting his forehead against yours as he lifts a hand to brush a stray lock of hair away from your face. He lets his touch linger as he traces a path down your neck, lithe fingers playing with the necklace dangling above your chest. Three dainty, silver hearts. One for you, one for Seonghwa, and one for—

The rev of a motorcycle engine cuts through the air, and your head snaps toward the sound just in time to see Hongjoong park his bike at the door. He takes off his helmet and shakes out his hair which you’re surprised to see is freshly dyed. It almost makes you laugh; of course even as he’s out running errands for his coup de grâce, he finds time for fashion.

“Not starting the party without me, I hope?”

Hongjoong’s heeled boots click pleasantly atop the concrete flooring as he walks over to the two of you. His synthetic fur coat is a bright orange, the complete opposite of what one might expect a criminal on the run to wear. But both he and Seonghwa have never been ones for hiding.

“Never,” Seonghwa replies, clapping a hand on the back of the younger’s neck. “Did you get it done?”

Hongjoong scoffs in a teasing manner. “Did you doubt I would?”

“Of course not.” Seonghwa squeezes Hongjoong’s neck once before letting go and clapping his hands together. “Looks like it’s time for the show.”

A few hours later, the party is in full swing. The once-empty warehouse is now filled to the brim with people dressed in cloaks and masks for the sake of anonymity. Some are on the dance floor, grinding against each other, while others have drifted toward the bar, downing shots and laughing.

Toward the back of the room, there's a group huddled around a table, huffing glitter, black lace, and who knows what other kinds of drugs. Meanwhile, others are tangled together on couches, lost in the throes of ecstasy. The air is so thick with the smell of smoke and sweat that it almost makes you dizzy.

A hand wraps around your neck from behind, pulling you against a warm body, and you gasp. “That’ll be us later, precious,” Hongjoong whispers, hot breath fanning against your ear. Your nervousness ebbs away, immediately replaced by eagerness.  “Do you like watching them? Or maybe you’d prefer to be the one being watched?”

You lean back against him, the hand around your neck a welcome pressure. “Both,” you breathe.

You feel his chest rumble with laughter. “Good.” 

He separates from you, and you turn to face him. He seems so confident, so excited, that it’s hard to believe he and Seonghwa are about to paint targets on both of their backs. Hit by a wave of anxiety, you lean forward and kiss him. He immediately reciprocates, nipping at your bottom lip and eagerly exploring your mouth with his tongue. 

Kissing him is always different than kissing Seonghwa. Seonghwa’s kisses are controlled, with a hidden power brewing behind them. There’s always a promise of more, a hint at what is to come when he finally lets go. On the other hand, Hongjoong kisses with reckless abandon. He is uninhibited, always ready to devour you whole. When he pulls back, a string of spit hangs between you before snapping.

“You nervous?” You nod, and he gently tweaks your chin between two fingers. “Don’t be. Those tech bastards have no idea what we have in store.”

“I just want the two of you to be safe.”

“And we will be,” he assures you. "After everything goes up in flames. Trust me, precious. Trust us.”

“I do.” And it’s true. You trust them with everything that you have.

“That’s our girl.” He kisses you again. “It’s time to go live.”

You take out your holodeck, and with the click of a button, all the cameras you set up switch on. You hurriedly switch channels through all the local stations, thrilled to see that it worked and the entire club is being streamed live to every device in the city. 

You stop the music and make the lights go out, causing a hush to fall over the crowd. You shine one beam of light directly onto the stage and you watch as Seonghwa steps out to address the throng of people below. He is captivating and has no problem commanding all of the power in the room. 

“Welcome one and all,” Seonghwa begins, voice booming over the speakers. “If you’re here, it means you are brave enough to fight against the corporations that enslave our society!”  

Hongjoong steps up next to him, and while he’s smaller in stature, he exudes no less power. However, he stays silent as Seonghwa continues, “We will not be silenced any longer. Tonight, we raise our voices in defiance; we will no longer bow down to those who seek to control us!” 

The crowd explodes into thunderous applause but immediately falls silent when Hongjoong raises a hand. "But tonight isn’t just about the revolution—it is also a celebration of our freedom, our individuality, and our unity. So let loose because everyone in the city is watching and we all know that, deep down, they wish they were us!” 

Cheers and shouts fill the room once again as everyone raises their glasses in solidarity. Your heart swells with pride as you take it all in. You have become a part of something far greater than yourself and, just like your boys, you are willing to do whatever it takes to see it through to victory.

You switch the music and lights back on and the party resumes in full force. People seem to go even harder than they were before, playing up their hedonism for the cameras. Seonghwa and Hongjoong have disappeared into the crowd, likely to mingle and spread their message one-on-one. 

Seonghwa favors the dance floor, hypnotizing those around him as he moves. A contented smile tugs at the corner of his lips as his hips sway to the beat, as beautiful as he is provocative. He flits from person to person, holding them close as he whispers into their ears. He occasionally catches you watching him, always making sure to tease you with a wink. 

On the other hand, Hongjoong stalks the perimeter of the room, moving from group to group. His skill lies in charming people with his words, and tonight is no different. Everyone who speaks to him smiles and laughs, completely enamored with everything he says. He shakes hands, claps shoulders, and you have no doubt that if people weren’t loyal before, they will be when he’s through.

You stick to one of the quieter corners of the room in order to keep an eye on the cameras. You need to make sure that everything is running smoothly both in and out of the club; the last thing you need is for someone to reveal your location or try to hack into your network and ruin everything. You also keep a close eye on your boys, making sure they stay safe.

It’s past midnight by the time they come and find you. Hongjoong sits on your left, placing a hand on your thigh as he leans toward you and kisses your cheek. His lips linger a moment longer than necessary, and as he pulls back, he purrs, “You should be out there, dancing, having fun.”

“I am having fun,” you say, taking the champagne glass offered to you by Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa sits on your right, throwing his arm around your shoulders and pulling you against his side. “You would be having even more fun if you put down the holodeck.” 

“But—”

Hongjoong takes it from you, throwing it haphazardly onto the cushion beside him. “Don’t argue.” 

He leans forward again, this time lightly nibbling your earlobe with his teeth. You gasp, knuckles turning white as you tighten your grip on your glass out of instinct. Seonghwa watches the two of you with half-lidded eyes, his hand trailing down your side and slipping underneath the hem of your shirt to trace patterns over your flushed skin.

“It’s a night for celebration, doll,” he murmurs. “You have done your job. The only thing we need from you now is… well, you.” He squeezes your hip and you jump slightly. “The badges will be here in a little over an hour according to one of my sources. While not as long as I’d like, it gives us just enough time to have a celebration of our own.”  

Your thighs clench in anticipation—you know exactly what he’s hinting at. 

"Lead the way, then," you say, setting your half-empty glass down.

Seonghwa’s gaze meets Hongjoong’s over your head, an unspoken agreement passing between them. They stand up and pull you toward the dance floor, surrounding you, one at your front and one at your back. You sway between them to a slow, seductive rhythm, closing your eyes as you let yourself enjoy their attention.

Seonghwa’s hands rest on your waist, pulling you against him as he starts to move his hips in tandem with yours, grinding against you. Meanwhile, Hongjoong cups your face, thumb tracing your bottom lip. His eyes are dark and intense as he captures your mouth with his own in a searing kiss. 

Seonghwa’s grip tightens, fingers digging into your skin as he watches Hongjoong devour you. He keeps one hand on your hip while the other snakes around to cup the back of Hongjoong’s neck, causing the younger to moan into your mouth at the touch. Now with a possessive grip on you both, Seonghwa gets to work nipping and marking the exposed skin of your shoulder. 

The room seems to disappear around you as they continue to explore you, their mouths and hands feeling like they are everywhere at once. It's intoxicating, even more so than the champagne you were drinking earlier. You feel Seonghwa’s hand trail even lower, disappearing under your waistline, snapping the band of your underwear against your skin.

You gasp and Hongjoong laughs against you, nipping at your bottom lip before pulling back with a satisfied smirk on his face. “Let’s give them a good show, hm?” 

You let the two of them drag you onto the stage, cheeks ablaze as you realize exactly what they’re planning. You’re hyper aware of the fact that you are being watched; even though most of the club-goers are lost in their own pleasure, the viewers that are steaming have nothing better to do than keep their eyes locked on you. 

Seonghwa clicks his tongue, squishing your cheeks between his fingers. “Look at our girl, acting so shy.” His fingers find your heart necklace, tugging at it just hard enough to make you gasp. “As if wearing this doesn’t mean we can do whatever we want to you, whenever and wherever we want.” 

Hongjoong takes a switchblade out of his pocket, flipping it open with a maniacal grin on his face. He uses it to cut away your clothes, exposing your body for everyone to see. Your knees shake and whether it is out of anxiety or anticipation, you can’t tell. 

He traces the tip of it against your skin, the cold metal leaving goosebumps in its wake. “We know you love it, precious,” he says. “Don’t you want everyone to see how good we make you feel? Think of all the viewers out there that will feel oh-so-scandalized but still won’t be able to look away. Not to mention all the greedy whores who will be getting themselves off to us, wishing they were in our places.” 

Seonghwa pulls you against him just like he did on the dance floor, once again letting his fingers tease his way down your stomach. But this time, he lets them travel even lower, dipping into your folds. 

“Look how wet you are just from this,” he remarks, bringing his fingers back up and spreading them so you can see the evidence of your own desire. He then extends them to Hongjoong who greedily laps at them, sucking them clean. 

You whine, trying to keep your legs closed from embarrassment, knowing anyone below the stage can look right up at you and see exactly how aroused you are. But Seonghwa won’t let you, shoving his knee between your thighs. Almost instinctively, you grind down on it, letting another pathetic sound slip past your lips. 

Hongjoong’s eyes glint with wicked delight at your reaction, his own hands reaching out to cup your breasts. “Someone’s eager,” he teases, tweaking a nipple between two fingers.

You hear a few wolf whistles from the crowd, a few lewd comments being thrown your way, but they only make you more excited. 

“I…” You’re panting heavily, making it hard for you to speak. You have to take a deep breath before trying again. “I want you. Please.”

“Anything for you, doll,” Seonghwa coos, returning his attention to your core. He pushes in one finger all the way to his knuckle with no warning and, if it weren’t for his hold on you, your legs would have buckled. 

“Fuck.” The curse slips from your lips, half whimper, half moan, as he continues pumping his finger inside your wet heat. 

Hongjoong lowers his head, taking one of your nipples in his mouth as he pinches and tugs at the other. You grip his shoulders for purchase as your head lolls back to rest on Seonghwa’s chest, whining at the onslaught of sensation. The feeling of Seonghwa inside of you while Hongjoong lavishes his attention on your breasts is unlike anything you have ever felt. 

As Seonghwa adds another finger, Hongjoong’s lips mark a path from your breasts, to your stomach, and then lower as he sinks to his knees in front of you. He grabs your thighs, fingers digging into your skin, just as his tongue finds your clit. His tongue draws figure eights around it as Seonghwa continues to pump his fingers relentlessly inside of you. 

“T-too much…” you gasp. But neither of them slow down—if anything, feeling how close you are makes them double down on their efforts. Hongjoong sucks your clit into his mouth at the same time Seonghwa adds a third finger, curling them inside of you. 

Seonghwa kisses the back of your ear, his hot breath making you shiver. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs. 

That small bit of praise is all it takes to send you tumbling over the edge, eyes rolling back as your body goes taut with pleasure. Hongjoong eagerly laps up your release, only prolonging your orgasm. Seonghwa gently removes his fingers from you and you hear rather than see when he brings them to his mouth, tasting yourself on his skin. 

Hongjoong pulls back, licking his lips to clean them of your release before his trademark smirk returns. “I think it’s time for you to return the favor, precious. Don’t you think, Hwa?” 

Seonghwa trails a hand down your spine, humming. “I don’t know if she can handle it.”

“I can,” you gasp, eager to please them just as they did you. “I can, I promise. Anything you want.” 

You almost jump from surprise as some spectators in the crowd start yelling their vulgar suggestions as to how exactly they think you should please your partners. You’re sure if you looked at your holodeck, the live chat would be filled with similar comments as well. 

Hongjoong laughs, grabbing your face in his hand. “Don’t worry about them. You can have us however you like.” 

Blushing, you say, “You choose.” 

His eyes light up and he immediately looks behind you to Seonghwa. Just like earlier, some sort of silent communication passes between them, and then you feel Seonghwa’s hand on the small of your back, urging you to bend over. 

“Why don’t you show our Joong what that pretty mouth of yours can do while I fill you up, hm?”

You barely have enough time to nod your agreement before Hongjoong is unbuckling his belt and freeing himself of his constraints. You nearly salivate at the sight of his cock, red and wanting. He grabs your hair and pulls, tugging you forward as much as he can with Seonghwa’s bruising grip on your waist keeping you in place. Tears prick at your eyes but it’s as pleasurable as it is painful, and you take him into your mouth eagerly.

The head of Seonghwa’s cock teases your folds before he finally pushes forward into you. He starts moving at a slow, torturous pace, pulling out of you before slamming right back in. Each thrust propels you forward, forcing you to take Hongjoong deeper into your mouth. You feel so full, so used. It’s incredible.

“Look at her,” Hongjoong coos, staring down at you. “Look at how well she takes us.” 

Seonghwa just groans, grinding into you so deeply that you have to choke back a moan around Hongjoong’s cock. He’s gotten quieter, his thrusts sloppier, a telltale sign that he is losing himself in his own pleasure. Meanwhile, Hongjoong’s grip tightens around your hair, guiding your head back and forth on his length. Each thrust cuts off your air supply, making you see stars.    

Seonghwa’s hand snakes around to your front, fingers finding your swollen clit. You moan again, and Hongjoong echoes you as the vibrations travel up his cock. 

“Shit,” he curses. “So fucking good.” 

Seonghwa’s thrusts grow increasingly erratic and you hear his breath hitch; instinctively, you clench around him, and he spills into you. His release sends you spiraling into your second orgasm of the night, walls fluttering around him as you milk his cock of every drop. 

Hongjoong pulls out of your mouth not long after, squeezing the base of his shaft to prevent himself from following the two of you over the edge. The second Seonghwa steps away from you, he is taking his place, forcing himself inside of you before any of the elder’s cum can drip out. 

“Hongjoong,” you gasp, nearly falling forward from the force of his thrusts. Seonghwa maneuvers himself so that he can support you, holding you in his arms as Hongjoong pounds into you with bruising force. 

“Gonna fill you just like Hwa did,” he growls. “Make you mine. Ours. You’re ours.” 

“Can’t… can’t…” Words escape you, your mind going blank. 

“Yes, you can,” Seonghwa says, stroking your hair. “You can take it. You can come for us one more time.”

His voice is comforting, but you also hear the command in his tone. You choke out a sob, nodding weakly as Hongjoong guides your hips back against him again and again. You can feel another orgasm coming on already, the coil tightening in your stomach. Seonghwa continues to murmur words of praise, stopping only to pepper kisses along your heated skin. 

The coil snaps and you cry out as you come undone, Hongjoong’s cock still buried deep inside of you. His hips stutter and he curses, his warm release mixing with Seonghwa’s. He slowly pulls out and you can feel as some of their cum trickle down your thighs. You collapse against Seonghwa completely, no longer able to stand on your own two legs. 

You feel light-headed and blood pounds in your ears, muffling the cheers you assume are coming from the crowd. You’re too far gone to be embarrassed, and a lazy smile tugs at your lips—the three of you surely gave them the show of a lifetime. 

Suddenly, you feel heat lick at your skin, and you snap back into yourself fully, cringing away from it. Your eyes focus, and you see Hongjoong flicking a lighter open and closed, open and closed.  

“There’s our girl,” he remarks. He brings the lighter to your skin again, just close enough for you to feel the heat of it without it burning you. “I think we were a bit rough with you, precious. You were totally out of it, shivering and everything.” 

Seonghwa is behind you again, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. You press further against him, squirming as the heat tickles your skin. 

“Back with us?” Seonghwa asks.

You nod. “Yes, yes, I’m fine.” 

“Okay. Hongjoong—enough.” 

Hongjoong stops immediately, flipping the lighter closed with a tsk. “Fine. It’s gonna get hotter in a minute anyway.”

Now that you’re focused, you finally hear the shouting and crashing coming from below. The very people who were just watching you on stage are now rioting, destroying the warehouse and everything in it. The cameras, the bar, all of your hard work—now there is just destruction, everywhere you look. 

You shoot up, hurriedly dressing yourself so that you are no longer the only one naked as panic begins to take hold. “What’s going on? Seonghwa, Hongjoong, we need to—”

You waver on your feet, nearly tripping. Luckily, Seonghwa catches you. “Calm down, it’s okay,” he says, hushing you. “This is all part of the plan.”

Hongjoong gestures to the crowd, pointing out some things you missed. “See how some of them are drenching the place with gasoline? We’re gonna light it up.” 

Maybe you’re still delirious from your multiple orgasms, but you are having trouble understanding what the two of them mean. “Why? I thought… I don’t know what I thought.”

“This was all a distraction,” Seonghwa explains. “The club, the livestream, us putting on a show. We did it so that all eyes would be on us, and all the badges would be wasting their resources trying to find our location.” 

You nod slowly as the pieces begin to come together. “So, while I was setting all of this up…”

“We were out there. Planting bombs at some of the biggest tech headquarters in the city.” Hongjoong smiles, spreading his arms wide. “Our coup de grâce, just like we’ve been saying.” 

Despite all of your suspicions, this is something you never would have been able to guess. Before you can even begin to truly comprehend the magnitude of what they’ve done, sirens pierce the air. Everyone screams and begins to run out of the warehouse. Seonghwa grabs your hand, and nods to Hongjoong. “Now!” 

Hongjoong throws his lighter to the ground below and flames erupt instantly, devouring everything in sight. Luckily, most of the crowd has already escaped, and you feel confident no one should get caught in the aftermath. Still, it’s pandemonium, and smoke fills your lungs as Seonghwa pulls you closer, shielding you with his body as he hurries toward the nearest exit. 

Hongjoong follows after you, but lags behind as he keeps looking over his shoulder at the fire with a sadistic grin on his face. “That’s how we do it,” he yells, voice barely audible over the blaze.

“Get yourself together,” Seonghwa barks. “We need to get out of here before the cops realize what’s going on and find us.” 

Suddenly, Hongjoong trips, his foot catching on some loose debris. Seonghwa reacts instantly, yanking him back to his feet and throwing an arm around his waist. The three of you continue onward as the heat of the fire licks at your back. You crash through one of the exit doors, and stumble away into the night, disappearing into the sea of masked faces. 

All across the nation, devices light up with the same headline: “City in Chaos as Blazing Inferno Distracts from Large-Scale Bombing of Tech Giants.”

“Nation-wide manhunt underway. Suspects Kim Hongjoong and Park Seonghwa believed to be connected to an underground criminal group called The Black Pirates…” 

NETWORKS: @cromernet @kflixnet @pirateeznet

TAGLIST: @yessa-vie @nebulousbrainsoup @ad0rechuu @sanniesbunnie @seonghwaddict @fruitcakebin @kickti @abby-grace @fireseo @yunhofingers @ohflorah @oiminho @baekbao @byuntrash101 @hyukssunflower @thatnerdytomboy @straykidsholicleigh

[gloomwitchwrites]

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): foul language, suggestive themes, brief non-consensual grab (non-graphic)

Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: Part One of Ink & Needle

Inside the club Riot Room, you meet a masked stranger.

Chapter Two

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

The puddle in the caved pavement ripples as a raindrop shatters its silent surface. Small, but growing larger and wider until the water is still again. Another raindrop falls from the sky and the process is repeated.

A beginning. An end. A beginning. An end. A—

Fresh start.

New roots.

The brick that starts the riot.

All things have a beginning. This moment is no different, because it feels like the start of something, and for so many fucking reasons.

And it’s not just the water. It isn’t only the water. There is a neon sign, and its reflection is in that tiny pool. A bright pink that is at odds with the old London architecture surrounding it. Maybe the color is melting, or maybe it’s your imagination, and your brain has finally kicked off and this is its farewell salute.

Why, when you are here for someone else’s beginning, does it really feel like yours? It’s not sour or sweet or foul or sticky but heavy as if your boots are filled with liquid cement.

This is supposed to be Evie’s night. This is her bar crawl. This is her marriage. This is her bachelorette party. But now you’re at the last place of the evening, and everything is suddenly barring down like an avalanche.

Riot Room blares the pink neon sign. It’s loud, and the very edges of your consciousness ache from how bright it is. You’re not even standing that close.

Below the sign is an archway with an open gate. A tall man in all-black stands off to the side of it checking IDs and handing out wristbands. From the open gate comes a pounding, shredding beat that you’re not sure is heavy metal, electronic, or a combination of the two.

Riot Room is completely different from the other places you’ve visited tonight. The four places before this were all quaint pubs with odd names and a nostalgic sense of comfort. Riot Room is a club. There is nothing quaint or nostalgic about it.

Two scantily clad women in black leather wearing large coats trot by, their heads bent close as they talk to each other. Their lips are painted a dark purple that resembles bruising as if they’ve been kissed roughly.

To your right, Sam’s gaze drops to span the length of one of the women. She looks on in appreciation, her pink-painted lips pursing with interest. Her dark skin is speckled with gold dust and her tight curls are bundled up on the top of her head in two big buns.

Sam’s gaze draws away from the woman’s bare legs. Her gaze falls on you, and you grin widely, knowing she’s been caught. The corner of her mouth quirks with a hint of smile.

She leans in until your shoulders touch. “It’s not like you weren’t looking.”

You lean in a bit more until your noses are close to brushing. “But I wasn’t the one who got caught.”

Sam laughs and pulls away, the sound of it bright and airy. She waves her hand as if trying to ward off evil.

Once she’s caught her breath, Sam leans around you, addressing the two women standing to your left. “Ready, ladies?”

Jade tilts her head, her blue ponytail shifting to fall over her right shoulder. She crosses her arms and narrows her eyes. “Did you pick this place, Sam? Seems like a ‘you’ kind of place.”

Sam nods toward Evie with one of her buns. “The bride-to-be agreed to this.”

You and Jade turn in unison. Evie shrugs. “I did.”

Jade snorts and holds out an outstretched hand toward the club. “You hate these kinds of places.”

“Oh my god,” mutters Sam throwing her arms up in the air, her gold bangles clacking against each other.

Evie laughs softly, and the sound is sweet enough to rot your teeth. That’s the thing about Evelyn Green. She is the nicest, most kind-hearted, selfless person you’ll ever meet. Rarely does this woman do anything for herself, and putting this evening together for her was a struggle. Not because she’s difficult, but because she wanted tonight to be about everyone, not just herself.

Evie’s button-nose scrunches slightly. “I told Sam I wanted to come. When am I ever going to go to a place like this after I marry Archie?”

Jade’s lips form into a thin line and she shakes her head. “Archie is the most un-pretentious rich boy I’ve ever met in my life. He’d love you even if you were a plastic bag. And he hates all those events the two of you go to anyway.”

“Yes,” agrees Evie. “But he’s required to go, and once we’re married, I will have to attend as well.” Her face falls slightly, and it’s understandable.

Evie’s fiancée comes from wealth—the old money kind. Archie’s great grandfather is of British nobility, and while Archie isn’t titled, that doesn’t really seem to matter. He is well-educated, and many of his closest friends and colleagues all run in the same circles.

Evie is not from that life. She grew up a poor coal miner’s daughter in southern Missouri. She managed to scrounge up enough money to move to Columbia to attend Mizzou and met Archie during an exchange program. She was in a park, and Archie was playing soccer with friends. Knocked her in the side of the head with the ball. Archie sat with her in the ambulance and the two went on a date the next day.

They’re in love, and it’s a gorgeous, beautiful thing. But not all of Archie’s family is supportive of their marriage. Many look down on her for her background. Evie acts like it doesn’t bother her, but you know different. Those events they attend together cut deep, tear into her until there is nothing left but her forced smile.

Jade sighs loudly and then turns toward Sam, pointing at her. “If I find out you forced her—”

Sam groans and then grabs Jade’s outstretched forearm, tucking Jade against her side as the two of them walk arm-in-arm towards the club. “Oh shove it, Jade,” mutters Sam.

Evie giggles and holds out her hand to you, wiggling her fingers. Grinning, you entwine your fingers with Evie’s and follow the bickering duo.

They argue all the way to the door. IDs are checked. Wristbands are handed out. A cover is paid. And then you’re walking through the gate, under the archway, and into an open courtyard.

That heaviness returns, and your boots feel like lead. Something about this place is different from the rest, and you cannot put a finger on what you’re sensing. It’s a change in the direction of the wind. It’s a falling autumn leaf. There is a shift happening, and you’re not aware of where it might come from.

The night sky is directly above your head, and you can see every star in the sky. To your immediate right—just inside the gate—is a coat check. Next to it is a stage where a man in a Jason Voorhees mask stands behind a DJ booth. He is shirtless, well-muscled, and covered in fake blood. Though both feet are on the ground, the rest of his body shakes and writhes with the intensity of the music. The bass is the loudest aspect, rattling around in your body until you start to feel dizzy.

On stage with DJ Voorhees are several other masked men. They too wear hockey masks, but they are all painted a different color. They don’t wear shirts either and they jump around on the stage, pushing and shoving each other, occasionally dropping down into the crowd to do the same before running to the stage.

The crowd is thick but mostly near the front of the stage. Beyond them on the far side of the courtyard is the bar. It’s long, spanning nearly the entire wall, with several bartenders and barbacks working along it. Next to the bar near the stage is a set of stairs that leads up into a building. People enter and exit through the door. There are windows but they’re entirely blacked out and you have no idea what might be back there.

You scan the length of the bar and find another set of stairs on the other end. This one descends and next to it is another gate—this one much smaller than the entrance—guarded by security. The back wall of the courtyard—the one facing the stage—is lined with people, but there is walking space between them and the crowd near the stage.

Evie’s smile widens, and you suddenly don’t care anymore. This is for her, even if you feel uneasy. Her happiness is the most important thing right now.

“I’m grabbing us drinks,” yells Sam over the music. She gestures with her thumb over her shoulder before she heads that way.

Evie steps a bit closer to you. She’s nervous but eager as she squeezes your hand.

One of the masked men jumps off the stage and into the crowd. They all yell and then he pops up, throwing himself in people’s faces. You instinctually step forward to block Evie as he darts around a club-goer and appears directly in front of you.

“Fuck off,” you yell when he pushes himself into your face. All you see is the purple-painted hockey mask and he won’t fucking move. He just stands there like an ill omen that won’t allow you to look away.

You’re about to speak, your lips and tongue forming the shape of what you want to say. Then, he disappears, as if knowing your intention.

Jade snags your upper arm and leans in, her gaze fixed on the point the guy slipped away to. “I’ll stay with Evie. Go check on Sam. Make sure she isn’t just buying us tequila shots.”

Evie reluctantly gives up your hand as you navigate the congested dancefloor. You have to twist your upper body to avoid collisions. Just through the crowd, you can just make out Sam’s buns. A man steps into your path. He isn’t looking—likely too drunk to even notice that you’re right behind him—and you step out of the way to avoid is wayward swagger.

But there are too many goddamn people, and you can’t avoid them all. Instead of him, you bump into someone else.

“Shit. Sorry. I—” You glance up. “Oh fuck.”

A wraith stands before you, all cold shadow and violent foreboding. Dark eyes surrounded by pale eyelashes observe you from behind a black balaclava. Around the mouth are skeleton teeth but they’re a tad faded which only adds to the ominous presence of this strange man. He is tall, and you have to bend your neck to see directly into his face, and that doesn’t even take into account how broad his shoulders are.

Space is non-existent. The only thing you understand about your surroundings is him. This man is a being out of hell, a creature of fire and blood, and yet you’re drawn to him. You are a pale moth, a gentle creature, and he is the pyre in which you will burn.

He takes hold of your upper arm, and his grip is strong. His strength is both a threat and a comfort. He could snap you in two, but it’s placement and how firmly he holds on to you tells you otherwise. This man is dangerous, and yet through the hardness is a softness in the brow that you recognize as concern. His dark eyes narrow, and as he pulls you closer to him, he leans in before his gaze moves to a stop over your right shoulder.

“You okay?”

It isn’t the wraith gripping your upper arm who’s addressing you. You glance over your left shoulder and meet a softer expression. Black hair cut short, tanned skin, and kind eyes. This man is completely different from the one that still holds onto your arm.

“Fine,” you murmur but realize he can’t hear you over the music. “I’m fine.” This time you project, and he nods.

“Gaz!” He turns away, and a different man holds out a plastic cup full of beer to him.

Gaz takes it and then this newcomer turns in your direction. You want to leave, to walk away, but that’s difficult when your upper arm is still in a vice grip. You shake it, trying to throw the stranger’s grasp, and make no ground. His hand stays put.

“Who’s this?” asks the newcomer, and you recognize the accent as a Scottish one.

“Some wanker ran into her. Knocked her right into Ghost.”

“Fucking hell. You good, Lt?”

Ghost doesn’t say anything, or if he does, you don’t hear him over the music. Shaking your arm again, you attempt to free yourself for a second time. Ghost still doesn’t let go. Instead, he tugs you a little closer until you feel his body heat.

You hate being told what to do, and you especially hate men who cannot take a fucking hint. You try again, ready to smack the balaclava right off Ghost’s face if he doesn’t release you. But he does, and his grip is gone so suddenly that you nearly topple backward.

Acting bolder than you feel, you give Ghost your best scowl before turning toward Gaz, your mouth forming into a smile. “Thank you,” you say, excusing yourself quickly and heading toward the bar.

“What kind of a name is Ghost?” you mutter to yourself just as Sam turns around from the bar. She cradles six drinks in her arms like a newborn baby.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” You reach for them, grabbing one before it tips over to spill across the floor.

“Jade sent you, didn’t she?” laughs Sam, handing you another plastic cup. “Can’t trust me after that tequila incident.”

“No comment,” you answer, making sure the drinks you’re holding are secure and won’t slip out of your grasp.

When you return to Jade and Evie, the two women have their arms wrapped around each other, swaying in a little circle, giggling hysterically. The moment you and Sam appear, Evie is pulling away from Jade, reaching for the gin and tonic you hold out to her. When the drinks are distributed, Sam and Jade have one in each hand while you and Evie only hold one.

Before this, the four of you visited four different pubs, and had plenty of drinks at each establishment. While it’s nearing the end of the night, there isn’t any reason for you to go overboard. Slowing down might be best, especially if Sam and Jade are going to double-fist drinks the rest of the night. Tomorrow—technically today at this hour—is supposed to be a spa day with some of the women from Archie’s family. Hungover is the last think you want to be while dealing with them.

As your lips suction around the head of the straw, you feel a pull, a tug toward the back wall of the courtyard. You resist the urge, refuse to look because you know who you’ll find. Instead, you suck on the straw, focus on the bite of the gin, sway your hips until the pounding beat is all you know in your veins.

But the pull won’t release. It won’t slacken. And the more and more you resist, the more it aches to not look, because no matter how startling his appearance is, it intrigues you, makes you think about how long it’s been and how you wish to be touched.

Would he keep the balaclava on? Would he take it off? And why does that intrigue you?

You start to turn, to surrender to the tug, and then snap back to reality, nearly knocking into Jade as you force yourself away from looking. The drink in your plastic cup sloshes harshly against the side but doesn’t spill over.

Evie leans in, her lips close to your ear, and she nods in the direction of the tug. “That guy won’t stop staring at you.”

“Who?” you ask innocently, knowing exactly who Evie is referring to.

“Mystery masked man.” Evie grins, her straw caught between her upper and lower teeth.

This time you look. There he is. Ghost, as his friends called him. He leans against the wall, the same small group of people surrounding him from earlier. They’re all talking, but Ghost is staring in your direction, and his gaze is locked in on you.

You quickly glance away and shrug even as a dull heat warms your limbs. “Looks like trouble.”

“Looks like a good time if you ask me.”

“Evie,” you gasp, bumping her shoulder.

“What?” she laughs, sucking up the last bit of her drink.

Jade goes up on her toes, her head swiveling back and forth. “Who are we looking at?”

Sam catches on and twists, glancing in the same direction. She’s successful first. “Oh my god.” Sam leans in until her cheek is pressed against your own. “That man is staring at you.”

“I know!” You pull back a bit, but Sam doesn’t let you go far.

She bumps your shoulder. “Go talk to him.”

“And say what?”

“Hello. Have anyone waiting on you? No? Great. Let’s get out of here. You can even keep the mask on.”

You roll your eyes. “No. I’m not doing that.” You reach out and snag Evie’s arm. “And it’s her night. Why would I leave y’all for a hook-up?”

Sam finishes one of her drinks. She removes the straw and pops it into the other cup, doubling it up by putting the full plastic cup into the empty one. “Listen, if you won’t. I will. The guy next to him with the dark hair is an absolute snack. Even the older guy with the weird mustache is making my daddy issues purr.”

Jade’s eyes widen slightly. She nods enthusiastically. “Oh he is quite nice.”

“Right? Girl. I could take him and not in a fight.”

“Fine!” you exclaim. “I’ll go talk to him.” You turn toward Evie. “If you’re okay with it?”

Evie grins around her straw. You know what it means. Evie wants you to go because she wants to see everyone happy, but you wouldn’t call yourself excited. That heavy feeling is back, the one that feels like a new beginning.

The issue is that fresh starts are a cleansing. They are often a renewal. You think of cold water, of a slate wiped clean, but there are other markers for such things. Fire destroys but it also creates the opportunity for new life. Controlled burnings are a thing, and this man—this Ghost—can only be fire.

“I need a refill anyway,” you mutter, turning toward the bar, some of your confidence slipping.

You take a deep breath, the alcohol in your blood singing, giving you a feeling of lightness that makes your feet move of their own accord even as they want to drag. It is confounding. You don’t know what you want.

Slowly, you navigate through the crowd, moving ever closer to your wraith. He watches you the entire time. As you draw nearer, and your gazes lock, he straightens. Ghost pushes off from the wall like he’s expecting you to come to him. You notice the rise and fall of his chest, and the way his right hand clenches and unclenches in anticipation.

The gesture is so surprising, you lose all your nerve, walking right past him and to the bar. You don’t have to see him to know that he’s watching. His gaze is a drill, and you sense the bite of it at your back. Your palms are sweaty, and you discard your empty drink in the nearest trash bin.

You order another gin and tonic, handing over a crumpled pound note to the bartender. As you turn around, you notice that Ghost is gone. He isn’t leaning against the wall or even lingering with his friends. They’re still there, chatting away, but Ghost is missing.

Your heartrate kicks up and it’s suddenly so loud you don’t hear the thunderous pulsing beat of the music. It’s like you’re standing in a dark train tunnel, and everything is narrowing down to a single point. The crowd near the bar has grown in the last few minutes. People walk up and down the stairs next to the bar, and now that you’re actually focused on the building, you can some of the interior lights.

Evie, Sam, and Jade are out of sight, but you know they’re probably rolling their eyes, ready to question you about why you didn’t approach him. Better to accept your defeat and move on. Yes, there is a tug, a tether attached to this stranger that you cannot seem to shed, but you don’t know this person. There is no harm in not pushing this further, in moving on, and pretending you never met him in the first place.

“Whatever,” you mutter to yourself, as the roar of the music comes rushing back.

As you squeeze between two people, one of the mask-wearing men from the stage appears from nowhere. It’s the same guy from earlier. The one with the purple hockey mask who threw himself at you and Evie. You step back and bump into someone. That momentum only pushes you closer to him.

Purple-mask cages you in, lunges repeatedly like he’s going to grab you or hit you. It’s intimidating. Awful. You want to tell him to leave you alone, but the music is so loud you’d have to scream.

You step to the left to try and move around him, but he only puts himself back in your path. This time, you form the shape of a bite, ready to sting with your words, but all conscious thought leaves you the moment his hand makes contact.

He does touch. And it is not gentle.

He tugs on your jacket, then your top, then your jacket again. You bat is hand away, try to move out of range, but he is so much faster. His arm goes around you, and then he drags you in like you asked to dance.

“Let go!” You yank your arm free, but the guy still holds firm, guiding you deeper into the crowd.

Everything is hot. Tight. Overwhelming. Stealing all breath.

You pull again. “Let go!”

This time he does. This time, he disappears.

Ghost looms like a dark shadow, his hand around the guy’s neck. His palm is large to the point that Ghost’s hand easily encases the man’s throat.

“Touching a woman without her consent isn’t polite. In fact, I’ve killed men over less. How about you apologize to her, yeah?”

It’s the first time you’ve heard Ghost speak. Even over the music, you easily hear the rough, gruff timbre of his voice. It’s harsh like liquor and yet entirely smooth when it washes over your body and floods your senses.

Ghost drops the guy and he immediately bolts, darting through the crowd and pushing people out of his way. Ghost does not run after him.

Instead, he turns toward you and lowers himself enough to get close. All you see are his eyes which at first seemed dark, but now look like how light shines through a whiskey bottle.

“Did he hurt you?” The concern in his voice is genuine, and somehow that pleases you. There is a small trace of anger, but it’s fleeting, and not worthy of attention. Ghost isn’t worried about your purple-masked assailant. He’s worried about you.

You shake your head. “No.” Lick your lips. Breathe deep. “No. I’m fine.”

His pale eyelashes look like little halos. Is the hair on his head the same? Is it darker?

“You sure?” he asks, this time starting to straighten a bit.

“Yes. I just—I need some air.”

Ghost nods. “Come with me.” His hand gently rests against your elbow, and you accept it. This touch is not a threat, and you surrender to him, allowing him to lead you away from the crowd. They part easily as if on instinct. Maybe Ghost is truly that intimidating.

Ghost leads you to the far edge of the bar near the secondary set of stairs. He does not escort you down the stairs but to the other archway you noticed earlier. The security guard nods at the two of you and then you step down onto damp pavement in a little alleyway.

Your rescuer immediately pulls out a pack of smokes from the inside of his leather jacket. He selects one and then holds the pack out to you. You reach for one. It’s a reflex. You tend to smoke when you drink because it prevents you from drinking more than you need, but sometimes all you do is chain smoke and then you can’t talk the next day. It’s a terrible habit but one you haven’t been able to kick.

“Thank you,” you murmur once your cigarette is lit. He simply nods and pushes up his balaclava to suck on his own.

You try not to stare but you catch the faint hint of a long scar along the edge of his jaw. Beneath that, his entire neck is a solid black tattoo. You’ve seen them before, where people blackout parts of their body in ink. His stretches across the muscles in his neck, and when he inhales, you take note of every ripple of muscle. The strength there is astounding.

Glancing away quickly, pretending you weren’t admiring him, you clear your throat. “I didn’t catch your name.”

Ghost cannot be his name. There’s no way.

He exhales, the smoke drifting up into the air. “That important to you?”

“Yes.”

He stares at you for a moment. “Ghost.”

Fuck. Why’d you think he’d say anything different from a man wearing a balaclava out in public. It’s not his real name. That’s obvious, but you’re not sure if you want to push the matter. Yet it does make you wonder why he didn’t give you his real name.

You decide not to push it, giving him your name instead. As he exhales, the smoke fans upward to crown his head like a pair of horns before twisting off into the night sky.

“Why’d you scowl at me?” he asks, ashing his cigarette.

You run your tongue over your front teeth before speaking the lie. “I didn’t scowl.”

“But you were angry,” says Ghost, pointing his cigarette in your direction before he takes a drag.

“You wouldn’t let me go,” you counter, growing annoyed with this line of questioning.

“Someone knocked you down. You didn’t speak or look at me. And I’m the one you ran into. I was concerned.”

“For a complete stranger?”

“I’m a compassionate person.”

You sigh and roll your eyes. “And yet you threatened to kill the man who touched me.”

Ghost points toward the gate, emphasizing each word with a light thrust of his hand. “The threat was deserved.”

I’ve killed men over less.

His words rattle around in your head. What normal person says something like that? The fact that he said it without fear makes you question what line of work he’s in.

Ghost drops his arm and takes another drag on his cigarette.

You should be afraid. You should walk back inside to your friends. That’s the safe thing to do. It’s the smart thing. But you’re feeling a bit bold—and a little annoyed. You want to know where this goes or if it’ll lead nowhere at all.

Straightening your shoulders, you drop your cigarette and put it out with the toe of your boot. “My friends think I should fuck you.”

It’s out of your mouth before you have the chance to think twice. Ghost’s hand pauses halfway to his mouth.

His head tilts slightly, and then turns in your direction. “What?”

You hate repeating yourself, but you’ve already said the words. You cannot take them back.

“My friends noticed you staring at me. Told me to talk to you. If I didn’t, one of them would have.”

Ghost fully shifts in your direction. He takes one step toward you. Another. There is a dark swagger there, and he’s trying desperately not to smile.

“You want to have it off?”

Yes.

“Thanks for the offer but I really should leave.” You start to step backward as if to return to the club.

Ghost must realize this because he moves like a bullet, blocking your path, planting one hand against the brick wall behind you. Your gaze falls on his hand and you notice all the tattoos. They cover his fingers and the back of his hand, disappearing under the sleeve of his black leather jacket.

“You’re taking the piss.” Ghost is smiling now but it’s not nefarious or cruel. He’s politely amused, and that is somehow worse. He leans in until you can smell the rich scent of his cologne. “You want to fuck or not?”

You swallow, desperately wanting to say yes. “I have to stay here. Can’t leave my friends.”

Ghost shakes his head and lowers his voice. “We don’t need to leave.”

The thick lust in his tone worms its way into your bones. From there, it oozes from the marrow, sinking into your blood and nerves, consuming every piece of you until your autonomy is nearly snatched from your control.

“You’re being awfully bold,” you murmur.

“You suggested it. I’m simply finishing it.”

“Don’t play games.”

“I’m not.” Ghost straightens a bit. “But I don’t want to unless you’re willing.”

He is sensing you hesitation, and it’s not that you don’t want to. It’s that you’re making excuses because that’s what you do. You step around things, shimmy by issues, and try to avoid as much as you can.

You cross your arms and pop a hip. “I am willing. But I don’t believe you when you say we don’t have to leave.”

He smirks. “So I can’t bend you over that box?” Ghost nods his head at a point behind you but you don’t even look.

“Very funny,” you deadpan.

Ghost straightens his back and his hand falls away from the wall. “This place has an underground area. Mostly employee only but there are a few back rooms where the…musical guests stay.”

“You know an awful lot about this place. Take women down there often?”

Ghost shakes his head. “Never. I like to scope a place out first.”

I’ve killed men over less.

What does he do for a living that he wears a fucking balaclava out in public and wants to “scope a place out” first? Every possibility flows in and then directly out of your head. Any of them could be possible.

“You’re not making a good case for yourself.”

He shrugs. “Up to you. Come with me or don’t.”

Ghost’s word and tone are casual, but you see the tension in every muscle and in the way he carries himself. There is a hesitation in him. A fear that you might say no. But the gin in your veins is strong, and it’s singing, convincing you to go with him.

When do you ever take risks?

“Okay,” you murmur. Then, more loudly. “Lead the way.”

Chapter Two

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado

[sthavoc]

Hi bestie!! Can I please request this It’s Enzo’s birthday party at a club and you’re friends but not like besties and of course you have a huge crush so during the party he tries to spend a lot of time with you and you’re like is this real? but a lot of friends and girls are congratulating him so he steps away.

So when he comes back to you he says “I know what I want as my present” and you’re nervous like ok ? and he goes “I want a kiss” so you smirk playfully and say “oh sure close your eyes” and you kiss his forehead and he looks at you like stop messing with me and you go “oh is this not what your looking for ? Maybe you want this ?” And you kiss idk his cheek and you get closer and closer to his mouth until he says “don’t tease me you’re gonna regret it “ and you’re like “prove it “

And bam. Sparks fly. 🎆🎇

My inspiration was this video honestly he looks so good ! Thank youuuuu

https://x.com/enzovarchive/status/1767580921610268732?s=46&t=RPVpXPGkWnVvjZR8AmB-Qw

🎉꡴ 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓 | ENZO VOGRINCIC

·˚ ༘ pairing: enzo x fem!reader

·˚ ༘ summary: for enzo’s birthday there is only one thing he asks and wishes for, a kiss from you.

·˚ ༘ warnings: teasing.

·˚ ༘ note: guys I’m so lateeee but I still can’t believe enzo turned 31. he looks so good in that videooo. where I live it’s still enzo’s birthday so I decided to still post something. I’m so sorry if I have any grammar mistakes, I didn’t have time to proofread.

Today was Enzo’s birthday. You couldn’t help but feel the excitement pump through your veins as you stood in front of the man, your heart fluttering with joy as well. The devoted attention only made your heart go faster and the thoughts that were rambling all over your brain couldn’t be controlled.

You couldn’t believe that Enzo instead of spending his birthday dancing and hanging out with the rest of his friend group was spending it with you, out of all people. It was surprising because the both of you were not that close as much as the rest of the cast, and even if you weren’t you still couldn’t help but gain the feelings you accumulated.

“espérame tantito chiquita, ya regreso.” Enzo walked away quickly to be able to greet the people who were arriving at the club for his birthday.

He had been going back and forth in greeting, but he would always come back to you. Tons of girls were trying to flirt with him and being touchy but he would find a way to shut them out and come back to you.

You waited stirring your drink patiently with your hand resting above your chin. “No me imagine que fuera a venir demasiada gente.” His voice crashes your thoughts but immediately makes a smile appear on your lips.

“Pues te lo mereces.” The soft smile continues on your lips as you watch him, he as well smiling at you. “¿Te la estás pasando bien?”

“De masiado.” He drinks. “Pero te aseguro que to tan bien como ellos.” He points to the guys.

They were all gathered in a huge circle causing a riot. Their screams of enjoyment filled the area and the voices of singing did as well. They were for sure drunk.

“Hmm. ¿Y que te dieron?” You make a motion with your chin towards the birthday bag that he had placed over the bar table.

“Un perfume, o algo así.” He shrugged squinting his eye for a split second. His next sentence followed after a sip of his drink, something that made you think. “¿Te acordas que me preguntaste algunas veces que quería para mi cumpleaños?”

“¿Ah huh?” You nod not thinking so much about it.

His eyes stared into nothing else but your eyes. “ Ya se lo que quiero”

His look made you a tad nervous, swallowing you replied. “¿Y que es?” but his answer was the cherry on top for your nervousness.

“Un beso tuyo.” He smirked as he noticed your reaction, but you thought, two can play that game. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol.

“¿Un beso?” Your lips reflected his smirk as you stared at him. Was he getting closer? or was it the tension that was growing?

“Sí.” He passes his tongue through his lips wetting them.

You had thought about wanting to kiss Enzo, there was no denying it. But for it to ever happen was never in your thoughts, for you guys never spoke on the daily or for hours.

The bit of alcohol you had in you was giving you the confidence you needed.

“Dale.” You nod followed by a smirk, but thought of something. “Cierra los ojos.”

He did as follows, and obviously what he didn’t see coming was that you got closer to his forehead instead of his lips. This action made his eyes instantly open and made you giggle.

Enzo let out a small sigh as he smiled again, his eyes talked more than his mouth. A look that told you he didn’t want to be messed around with anymore.

“¿Oh eso no es lo que quieres? Quizás, ¿es esto?” You let out with a hint of tease in your voice.

Your lips met his cheek but they slowly began to move towards his lips, staying close to his but not moving.

“Ya no juegues chiquita, lo vas a lamentar.” He whispered with his hot breath hitting you making you swallow.

He was challenging, and that’s what you liked about Enzo. He would prove what he was capable of doing.

“Pruébalo.” You say.

And you didn’t need to tell the man twice. His hand went towards the back of your neck pulling you towards him to cut the space that was left between the both of you. Kissing Enzo felt like a craving you were finally able to eat, a problem you were finally able to solve, and the satisfaction that came after that felt amazing.

He would constantly bite your lip but you didn’t stay behind, as so would you.

But the two of you remembered where the both of you were so you cut the kiss. Your lips couldn’t help to form a soft dumb smile, the plumpness of them was noticeable to Enzo as he passed his finger through your bottom lip, this made him bring you back for another kiss that caught you by surprise.

“Otro regalito que quería.” He whispers making the two of you chuckle.

“Feliz cumpleaños Enzo.” You looked him in the eyes as both of your hands rested on his shoulders.

To Enzo, this was the best gift he had received through the whole night because it came from you and it was you.

[zepskies]

Code Red

Pairing: Boaz Priestly x Female Reader

Summary: When you call him for help, Priestly realizes that he finally has the relationship of his dreams.

AN: So I didn’t think I’d ever write for this character, but it was prompted by a lovely anon and encouraged by my friend @thatonewriter15! I hope you enjoy. ❤️ 

Song Inspo: “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran. “I’ve found a love…”

Word Count: 1,500 Tags/Warnings: Period talk, suggestiveness, mega fluff

He was in the zone.

Four six-inch double buffalo chicken clubs with banana peppers on whole wheat bread (gross, but he wasn’t the one eating ‘em), two spicy Italians, and a tuna on rye.

Priestly wrapped them up with practiced precision and slid them down the line to Piper, Mission Impossible-style. She smiled at his antics and took them and brought them over to Tish at the register.

Priestly had another turkey and provolone on his docket, hold the mayo, when his cell buzzed in his pocket. Today he actually did have pockets. As in, he was wearing joggers, boots, and a graphic tee that said: NO TEQUILA, NO ENTRY.

He swiveled his phone in his hand like a drummer with a drumstick. He smiled when he saw your name flashing across the screen, and he answered it.

“Hey, Beautiful. What’s up?” he asked.

“Boaz, I need you,” you said. To his ears, your voice was sultry, and a bit strained.

He perked up with raised eyebrows.

“What’s holding up the turkey and cheese?” Piper asked.

Boaz held up a finger to the blonde and tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder. His hands busied themselves with the next sandwich order, but he was all too attentive to your every word.

“Oh yeah?” he replied to you. His smile deepened. “Well, that’s convenient. Because I’m craving some of you, baby.”

You gave a breathy chuckle. “Normally I’d take you up on that, but no. I need you. As in, I really need you to do something for me.”

Priestly arched a brow. His brain was already filling up with ideas of how he could best help you. He mentally took an inventory of the “tools” in your nightstand drawer, and which ones he could best use to his advantage when he—

“Uhh, well, I got about one more hour in my shift,” he said, lowering his voice, even as it deepened a notch. “But if Jen covers me, I can be outta here in half the time.”

“Oh my God, good,” you gasped. “I’m in so much fucking pain, you have no idea.” 

Priestly blinked, and any thoughts of kinky fun times came to a screeching halt. Concern took over when he realized that the strain in your voice wasn’t from the sexy kind of need.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quickly.

“I’m out of Midol, my uterus is rioting like it’s a Vietnam War protest, and…oh yeah, I need more tampons too,” you said. “But I legitimately cannot move from this couch.”

Priestly couldn’t help but smile in amusement.

“Ech, I hear ya. Are we in a Code Green, Code Yellow, or Code Red situation?”

Jen glanced over at him from where she was mopping the floor, and she gave him a questioning look.

What’s wrong? she mouthed.

“Code Red, definitely,” you answered with a sigh.

Priestly grimaced in sympathy. He mouthed back to Jen, Code Red.

She nodded in female understanding, and raised a hand that said, Say no more.

“Okay, yeah,” Priestly replied to you. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

You released a sigh of relief. “And if you want to throw in a Snickers, I wouldn’t hate it.”

He chuckled at that one.

“You got it,” he said. “I’ll be home in T minus an hour, give or take.”

You groaned. “Can’t you just steal a DeLorean or something?”

“You know, I could, but that would mean I’d be going back further into the past before you even needed to call me, and I’d still probably be making sandwiches since I’ve been working here since damn near 2000 B.C. But you know what, they should really call that movie Back to the Present, since they don’t actually go to the future until—”

“Okay,” you had to laugh, even though it was edged with discomfort. “I’ll see you later.”

At the supermarket, after his shift at Beach City Grill, Priestly had most of the supplies he needed for a successful mission. All he was missing was his old enemy on Aisle 2.

Once again, he faced a wall of tampons. All bright colored boxes and numbers and sizes…

Okay, not Code Green, so not the slender ones that might as well be match sticks. Not Yellow, so no to Regular…ah! Here we are. Super Plus.

AKA: Code Red. Complete with leak guard, no latex. He grabbed the blue box and threw it into his basket of essentials, including no less than three assorted chocolate bars and a pint of Ben & Jerrys. He knew his girl, and you liked your Half-Baked ice cream with chocolate chip cookie dough and brownie pieces.  

He brought over his haul to the checkout line. Sure enough, Gerry, one of the locals, was finally old enough to buy a case of beer by himself. He glanced at the blue box Priestly was taking out onto the conveyor belt and smirked.

“No slender regulars this time?” Gerry remarked.

Priestly’s smile was tight. “No, Gerald. Slenders are for pussies.”

“Literally,” the blonde beanpole snorted. “What, your girlfriend got a heavy flow this month?”

Priestly rolled his eyes, and his mouth pressed in a line. The word flow still kind of grated on him like nails on a chalkboard, but what irked him more was this guy imagining any part of your intimate parts.

“All right, my girl’s flow is none of your business,” he said. “Once you hit puberty and grow your first pubes, you’ll understand.”

Gerry floundered while Priestly continued on to make his purchases. Even the cashier was smiling, trying not to laugh as he silently gave Priestly his props for a burn well made. Priestly shot the guy a nod and a smile before he left with his spoils.

“Honey, I’m hoooome,” Priestly sing-songed.

He stepped through the door with his keys still jangling in his hand. He was trying to balance the big bag of groceries while closing the door to the apartment he shared with you.

Your head perked up from the living room couch, and your hand slowly curled up, beckoning him over. Priestly obliged you. He peered over the side of the couch and smiled at the way you were all curled up under a throw blanket, already in your pajamas, while FRIENDS reruns played on the TV.

“Finally,” you said with a tired smile. But not the kind of finally that just meant you were impatient for the goods he carried. The kind of finally that also meant you were happy to see him.

He laid a comforting hand on your head, leaned down, and pressed a kiss above your brow. You held him there by the collar of his shirt, prompting him to kiss you for real. Your hand moved up his tattooed neck and your nails gave the back of his head a little scratch, careful not to disrupt the blue mohawk.

He reluctantly pulled away from your lips, just enough to try and gauge how you were feeling.

“How’re you holdin’ up?” he asked.

“Like a beach umbrella in a hurricane,” you replied wryly. “You got the stuff?”

Priestly held the grocery bag tucked under his arm like it was a drug deal.

“Oh, I got the stuff, if you got the money,” he said.

You nodded, and your small smile turned mischievous. “I got your money, Big Man.”

With your hand delicately hooked behind his neck and the other gliding up his arm, he didn’t realize he was falling into a trap.

You tugged his arm hard enough to try and get him to fall over the back of the couch.

“Hey!” he yelped. Yet he also laughed while you tried your best to pull him overboard.

He had to toss the bag of groceries to the floor next to you, but he managed to get over and onto the couch without crushing you. He probably smelled like old sandwich and mayonnaise, but you didn’t seem to care. 

You just helped him settle in behind you, with your back to his chest. This was the only way you’d find comfort for your lower back. It had been aching since you woke up this morning.

You grabbed his closest hand and guided it under your overlarge sleep shirt, then under the waistband of your panties. You laid his warm hand flat against your cramping lower belly.

Priestly pressed a kiss behind your ear and tucked his arm underneath your head. He felt the rise and fall of your sigh as you leaned back against him, and his smile softened.

“You’re gonna fall asleep without digging into your treasure trove,” he teased. “I even got your favorite ice cream.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder in interest.

“Half-Baked?” you asked.

“Yep, for extra brownie points. Eh? See what I did there?”

Your body shook with a quiet laugh. You reached your hand back to touch his bearded cheek this time. Your fingers toyed with his many earrings.

“Did you know that you’re my favorite human?” you said. “Like, ever?”

He smiled against your neck. “Could’a sworn I was your third favorite, behind Ben and Jerry.”

“Nope, just you,” you said, snuggling back further into his warmth. “Thank you, baby.”

Priestly realized then that he’d found it.

He’d really, honest to God found the life he didn’t think he’d get, with a woman who didn’t want him to change; who just wanted him to be here.

Though he smirked when you reached for the bag and dug out the pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

“That’s what I thought,” he said.

You giggled. “Shut up.”

AN: Priestly was such a fun character lol. I rewatched 10 Inch Hero this past week and this was the first thing I thought to write! If you liked this, let me know! (And if you want more Priestly.) 😘

Read the Prequel!

If you liked Code Red, read the start of their story:

▶️ The Miracle Man

Priestly Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Tag List:

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[hobies-princealbert]

I’ll always push the Hobie and Stallion Reader Agenda

It’s what he needs like cmon Black Punk British Nigga in like hot ass Texas or sumn with his Tall Thick Ebony Chick

It’s a Vibeee it gives “you can’t handle allat” and yk he definitely can

GOT EM LEGS ON HIS HEAD CUZ HE LOVE TALL WOMEN♡

MWAH💋

punk! hobie brown x stallion! reader |

°• y'all met on while you were on a girl's trip in candem. you were getting rowdy with your girls at one of the alternative clubs that the area was famous for. the scene was mainly punk and grunge, so you in a pretty all pink track suit surely stood out amongst the sea of gray and black.

°• you remember catching sight of hobie staring at you from your peripheral. you thought he was cute, plus he wasn't the only person staring at you. most eyes were on you the minute you stepped through that door. i mean look at you, how could they not stare.

°• your body was decorated in dazzling gold jewelry that looked radiant against your deep brown skin. you practically were practically luminous. how could he not go up to talk to you.

°• you could tell he was a little taken aback at first. probably it was your height, you were pretty tall, especially in heels. or the fact that you were so confident talking to him. sure, you were a little flustered cause he was cute ( translation: he was one the most gorgeous men you've seen), and he was a smooth talker that's for sure.

°• you didn't really give niggas your number like that, but could make exceptions. and nearly two years later, you were glad you did.

°• you two were an odd couple to say the least but you were similar in many ways. you both freely expressed yourselves through fashion. he, with his black leather, silver chains and spikes. and you, with your bright colors, gold jewelery and bling nails.

°• you both admired this aspect of each other. hobie loved to add to your jewelery collection. he would craft or thrift any jewels that he think would look great on you. similarly you loved to help him customize his fits, line his eyes and paint his nails.

°• both expressive and confident in everything you did. quick to stand up for others and raise hell when needed. you had spunk to you, he loved that about you. you could be hot headed sometimes but he didn't mind.

°• standing side by side y'all looked like a couple of giants. y'all turned heads everywhere you went. hobie had this laid back stride, and you with your pointed steps and sharp swaying hips. someone even asked if you two were runway model. to which hobie joked that he was briefly one.

°• speaking of hips, you had a great ass. you knew, randos on the street knew it, and especially hobie knew it. the man was obsessed with your butt. anytime he passed by you expect a quick smack. wearing jeans, his hands are casually resting in your back pockets. one time you were in the club throwing it back on your man, and he just stared at it awe. he's never seen you ass move like that before, he swore blacked out a bit that night.

°• on the topic of throwing it back, y'all loved meg thee stallion. singing her shit word for word, stank face and all. throwing it back on each other while her music bumped all through the apartment. similarly you love when hobie put you onto his shit too. mainly riot grrrl stuff. you loved how pumped it got you.

°• you absolutely adored your punk boyfriend, and he surely adored you two.

[blac-ivy]

Credit @reyenii on tiktok

Where y'all at?

[denim-mixtapes]

Nothin' but a Good Time - [1/?]

Wealthy!Steve Harrington x Fem!Stripper!Reader Rating: Eventually E, this chapter contains no smut yet but mentions drug and alcohol use and strip clubs. Words: 3.7k

AO3

It's 1996 and Steve Harrington has found himself, somehow, with the fancy office job and lush apartment and more than enough disposable income to spend on booze and drugs and one night stands to distract himself from how much he HATES his scummy corporate law job and too-big, too-empty apartment. You, after years of saving, begging cheapskates and creeps for tips as a waitress by day and dancing for bigger tips from bigger creeps after dark, finally afford yourself the opportunity to move into the fancy downtown apartment of your dreams. When you move in next door to Steve Harrington, there's no way of knowing if you've just met the next great love(r) of your life or the biggest pain in your ass you'll ever know. It's entirely possible that it could be both.

November, 1996 – Steve

Thump. Thump. Thump. 

A faint rhythm builds from behind the door of Steve Harrington’s office, slow, steady, louder and louder until eventually the sound is muffled and interrupted by a low groan. 

“Fuck!”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Just outside the door, his secretary is left aghast, wondering when she missed the arrival of this midday rendezvous and exactly when Harrington had become so daring. Sure, she’s seen her fair share of interns and lower level assistants escorted into his office after late stressful nights or the occasional holiday party, but he’s never been so brave as to interrupt the work day for a bit of afternoon delight. The kid may be a little dense sometimes, but he isn’t that dumb. 

Usually Harrington is by the book, strictly on schedule and often working through lunch to stay on the boss’ good side. So the fact that he’s running late to a meeting in favor of a roll in the hay, well, she is shocked to say the least. 

Corralling all of her bravery into one swift motion, she knocks on the door and is surprised to hear his, “come in,” right away. Maybe a little haggard and hushed in one breath, but immediate nonetheless. Needless to say, the stout woman is nervous about what she’ll find on the other side of the door when she opens it. 

What she finds, however, is nothing more than a slightly rumpled version of Steve Harrington. Tie undone, sleeves of his collared shirt shoved up to the elbows, and his glasses placed gingerly on the desk beside him. His hair is a riot from where he was just repeatedly banging his forehead against the desk, sporting a wide swath of plump red skin above his eyebrows as evidence of the act. No, she hadn’t walked in on anything indecent, only the culmination of stress and burnout on her young boss. 

“Sorry for the noise, Linda,” he breathes, scrubbing a palm over one tired eye and down his cheek. “I just– there’s no elaborate explanation here. It’s just been a day.” He types something quickly into the computer before him and then presses the power button on the boxy monitor, turning to give her his full attention with his hands folded on the desk in front of him. “What can I do for you?”

She mirrors his posture, fingers laced together but hanging limp at her midsection, “I was just wondering if I should call Mr. Greene and inform him you won’t be able to make it to the 3 o’clock partner meeting.”  

Eyeing the clock on the wall beside him, Steve’s eyes widen to saucers and his chair scrapes loudly against hardwood floor as he stands up in a haste, collecting paperwork and wayward supplies into his briefcase as he does. “Shit.” His brows knit in a gesture of apology for his language, but Linda simply chuckles and steps out of his way. “Sorry, sorry! Thank you, Lin!” 

—

No matter how hard he tries to act the part of a corporate bigwig asshole, Steve is convinced he may never get the hang of it. If he were to be honest, he isn’t entirely sure how he made it this far. Truthfully, he’s hanging on by the skin of his teeth and the Harrington name. 

After a year of hopping from minimum wage job to minimum wage job, he finally broke down and listened to his father’s demands. Just get the damn degree, Steven, he’d said, I have a job all ready to be laid at your feet, all you have to do is pull your head out of your ass and get the degree. So he did. He sucked it up, used the influence of his family name and a bit more of the Harrington fortune to attend the most prestigious law school he never would have been able to get into with his academic record alone. When he graduated, as promised, he was offered a position just above entry level with a 401k and a more than generous benefits package. He wasn’t sure how many strings his father had to pull or how much bribing it took, but he landed this cushy job that got him out of his childhood home and into an apartment of his own, something that he’s sure benefited not only himself, but also the parents who were clearly sick of putting him up well past 18. Over the better half of the last decade, he took ‘Fake it till you make it’ to heart and managed to charm his way up the corporate ladder, and now here he is: pushing thirty with a private corner office, the title of junior partner, representing corporations he didn’t care much for and working under senior lawyers he liked even less…but this job pays more than generously. It affords him luxuries like the latest new apartment with more square footage than he knows what to do with and the city view from his living room window. It affords him as many trips out to Massachusetts to visit Robin and Nancy as he’d like, stunning suits and flashy watches he never could have dreamed of affording when he worked at Family video and refused his family fortune. And then there’s the extravagant gifts for said family that make up for his absence at Christmas dinner.

This job is draining, but it’s purchased his peace, in a way, so he does what he has to do to make it worth it.

Lately, what he has to do to make it worth it is party until he forgets how much he hates it. 

If he had to recall the names of everyone in his apartment at this moment, he would fail. There’s faces he recognizes, sure, people from work and their friends he’s seen at many other parties. Clark from down the hall, who always manages to have the best coke, is in the corner making friends, and Eddie is around here somewhere peddling his own stash…but between the thumping bass and raucous laughter and the blur of lights, there’s about 25 to 30 other people he doesn’t recognize. When a bottle is thrust into his periphery, he gladly takes a swig, drowning the worry of strangers in his apartment and the stress from the day at work with amber liquor. 

Clark beckons him over to the mirrored coffee table where he’s set up shop, offering a rolled twenty with one hand and clapping Steve’s shoulder in a shallow gesture of friendship.

Fuck it, it’s Friday. 

November, 1996 – You

Dropping one last box at the foot of the doorman’s desk, you sigh and brush cardboard dust from your hands. The two men from the moving company just went upstairs with the last of your large furniture and are set to take off when they return to ground level, having only been paid through 11 AM. So you managed to unload the back of your car and the rest of the boxes from the moving truck into the lobby, promising the doorman – whose name you swear you’ll memorize soon – that it will all be out of the way momentarily. He graciously offered to make sure nobody messed with it in the meantime. 

It’s hard to even wrap your head around the fact that you’re moving into an apartment with a doorman in the heart of the city at all, let alone one within walking distance of your diner waitress job, and close enough to a bus route to the club where you danced. You’ll have to remember to pay your grandma a visit in her new nursing home and thank her for keeping her rent-controlled lease and illegally subletting it to you. Just another thing to add to your overflowing calendar. 

When you make it up to your shiny new apartment on the ninth floor, you say your goodbyes to the movers who are on their way out, sign the appropriate paperwork for them, and drop off your armload of boxes before heading back down. 

It takes quite a few trips on your own, but after another half hour, you exit the elevator in the lobby to see only three boxes remain and heave another sigh of relief. The end is in sight, and by the grace of whichever God is looking out for you, you might even be able to sneak in a nap before work tonight. You bend over to pick up one of the last few boxes of your belongings and suddenly feel the all too familiar prickling heat of someone’s intense stare. Rolling your shoulders, you let go of the cardboard handles and stand to turn and face whoever is continuing to stare.

Behind you, leaning one hip against the front desk, is exactly the kind of man you would expect to live in a building like this. Slightly older than you, but not by much, tall and lean, but the sleeves of his tight white tee shirt show off the perfect sculpt of his bicep. The man is etched in sleep, draped in it like the blankets he surely just crawled out of, the fluffy length of his hair sticking out in every direction, pushed up and out of his face by round wire-framed glasses. He smiles in a way that feels friendly, but has the sly kind of charm behind it that makes you want to shy from it. 

“You know,” he says, grinning wide, “I know I had a hard time waking up today, but something tells me I might still be dreaming, pretty thing like you moving into my building.” 

You want to scoff at his comment, knowing exactly how you must look right now. Sweat drying on your skin, messy bun practically falling out of its hold, sporting a plain black tank top and a pair of your ex’s old basketball shorts rolled at the waist. You manage to hold back the scoff, but do roll your eyes with a soft smile at your new neighbor. “Cute, you use that line often?” 

His sharp jaw ticks, but his smile softens around a friendly laugh as he rubs tiredly at one eye. “Can’t say I do,” then, dropping the hand in favor of offering it to you to shake, “I’m Steve, need a hand with these?” 

Accepting his secondary offer and shaking his hand, you smile in return and introduce yourself, but decline the first. “Thank you, but I’m sure you were headed somewhere. Don’t let me keep you from your plans.” 

“Nonsense.” When he shakes his head, there’s a pinch to his forehead, eyes slamming shut at the motion, but he recovers quickly and hides the pain. This man is clearly fighting a monster hangover, and yet he insists. “I was just going to pick up some coffee. It can wait.” Without waiting for you to agree, he takes the smallest box and stacks it atop another, picking them both up and tacking on, “lead the way.” 

You decide there’s no arguing with him, so you grab the last remaining box and head back to the elevator, punching the 9 button once inside. 

“No way,” he says in disbelief, “ninth floor?” 

“Mhm,” you mumble softly, “9C.” 

Your eyes are drawn to the crinkle around his eyes when he laughs again despite the dark circles below, the two moles just below his cheekbone that dance when he smiles. Damn it, he really is pretty. 

“I’m in 9B, right next door! You’re moving into Ms. Ruth’s old place?” 

There’s practically a lightbulb above your head when you make the connection, and in comical time with it, the elevator dings, signaling your arrival. “Oh, so you’re the Steve Grandma warned me about!”

All color drains from his face. “W-what did she say?” 

Steve follows you down the hall to your front door, and you can’t help but giggle at his change in demeanor. Both of you set the boxes down just inside your front room and you turn to him with a hand on your hip. “Just that you’re too handsome for your own good and a habitual flirt. Both of which I’m finding to be true already.” 

“Oh, well,” not only does his color return, but his cheeks pink noticeably. He gives a small nod that tips his glasses onto the bridge of his nose and sends a tuft of hair curling into his face – he couldn’t have choreographed it better if he tried. With an exaggerated wink, he continues, “you ain’t seen nothing yet.” 

You scoff, “sure, sure,” and lightly push his shoulder out toward the hallway. “Thanks for your help.” 

He strides down the hall back to the elevator and points at his own front door as he passes it. “Anytime…and you know where to find me if you need anything. You know, cup of sugar, little company. Whatever.” 

With a shake of your head and the elevator doors closing around him, you punctuate, “bye, Steve.” 

—

Later the same night, in the dressing room before your shift, you’re practically glowing from the long afternoon nap you allowed yourself in place of unpacking. You did your makeup at home – never really did care to leave your expensive products in the locker room, no matter how much you trust the other girls –  so all you have left to do is get changed. There’s a lounge just outside the locker rooms for the dancers and bar staff. It isn’t much, a cracked and peeling old leather couch, a few folding chairs around a card table, and a kitchenette for snacks and drinks, but it serves its purpose. After changing into your first outfit of the night, a bedazzled fishnet body suit over a metallic hot pink matching set, you practically bounce into the lounge and land gracefully on one end of the couch, heels in hand. 

“Someone’s in a good mood,” comes a sleepy voice from the kitchenette where Eddie Munson, club security, resident dealer, and occasional fill-in DJ, makes his routine evening coffee. 

“Didn’t you hear?” One of the other dancers, Charity – though you’re not sure her real name, stage names only even back here, that’s the rule – asks, draping herself onto the other end of the couch. She pokes at your thigh with the toe of her heel and scrunches her button nose in your direction. “Honey here is fancy now, moved into that luxurious new apartment of hers today.” 

“It’s true,” you boast with a dramatic lean into the couch, lazing, a cat to sunbathe under the fluorescent lights and clutching at pretend pearls, “I am one with the fat cats, now.” 

“The fat cats living off their granny’s handouts, maybe,” Says Felicity, the club manager, through a playful snort as she enters the room. 

You concede, “yeah fine, I could never afford this place if it wasn’t for her subletting it to me, but it’s all a part of my master plan.” 

Eddie settles into one of the folding chairs, propping his feet up on the armrest of the couch beside you. “Master plan? Do go on.” 

“You know,” you swat at the heavy, thick-soled boots before leaning forward to don your shoes and look up at him over your shoulder flirtatiously, “find a rich, hot man who can afford to live in the building and make him fall in love with me.” 

“Solid plan, how’s that working out for you so far?” Charity laughs playfully. 

It’s quiet for a moment as you contemplate the question. You were joking, of course, but when she asked the first thought that came to mind was of your interaction with Steve. It could be nothing, after all Grandma Ruth did warn you that her next door neighbor is a major flirt and for all you know that’s how he interacts with every woman he meets – maybe even every man, you don’t judge. On the other hand, it could be something. You never know.

“Well, actually there was this guy–” 

You’re interrupted by one of the bartenders leaning in the doorway. “Eddie, we’re about to open, need you at the door!” 

On his way out the door, Eddie twists his mess of curls up into a bunch atop his head and as a goodbye, says, “fill me in later, ladies, duty calls.”

—

The next time you see Steve, it’s under wildly different circumstances. For him, anyway. 

You’re still sweaty and worn out after a long morning shift at the diner and the walk home under blazing July sun. Your fifties-style uniform wrinkled and stained with sticky syrup and dried milkshake from the bratty kid who “accidentally” dumped it on you in passing. Your apron is slung over your arm carelessly and you have just let your hair loose from its scrunchie when you entered the building so you have no idea how wild it actually looks. 

Steve, however, is nothing short of stunning when you run into him at the mailboxes. He’s sporting a navy blue suit that fits him so well it must be tailored, still slightly disheveled at the end of his workday but clean cut and endlessly handsome despite it. There’s a dusting of five o’clock shadow along his sharp jaw, and his glasses are perched low on the tip of his nose as he sorts through the small stack of bills before tucking them into the inside pocket of his blazer. When he looks up and meets your eye, he visibly brightens.

“Well hi, neighbor,“ he greets with a warm grin dimpling his cheeks. He leans with one arm above your head against the wall of mailboxes and looks softly down his nose at you. “How’re you settling in?” 

Shifting the strap of your bag up higher onto your shoulder, you try to cover up the stains, once again shying under his attention. You’re more than used to attention from men, used to their intense stares and acute observation, but only when you have prepared for it. When your makeup is done to perfection and you’re fresh and clean as a whistle. Not now. Not smelling of fryer grease and pancakes and the sweat of a hard day’s work, with melted makeup and dried mascara flakes accentuating the bags under your eyes. You finally answer, “alright I guess. I’ve been working a lot lately so there hasn’t been much time for settling, but I’ll get there eventually.” 

He scrutinizes your outfit with a playful sneer. “I can imagine how hard it is, having to commute back to the fifties every time you have a shift.” He reaches out to untuck the collar of your dress that folded itself inward on your walk, smoothing it down with a caress of the thumb. “This suits you, by the way. ‘S cute.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, swatting his arm away with the apron in hand. “It pays the bills and I’m good at it. I wouldn’t have chosen it, otherwise.” 

Without ceremony, you both start walking to the elevator, step in step as if this was routine, as if you’ve been doing together for years. He presses the elevator button and shakes his head as you wait for the doors to open. “Does it, though?”

Swallowing your offense, you give him a puzzled look. “What do you mean?” 

Together you step into the elevators, and Steve holds out an arm to make sure the doors don’t close on you as you pass through. An unnecessary gesture, as the doors don’t close if they detect motion, but it’s appreciated nonetheless. 

“Not that I’m judging, because I am not, I just find it a little hard to believe that you can afford this place as just a waitress. What else have you got up your sleeve?” 

The elevator once again signals your arrival with an overhead ding, and you just shrug as you brush past him toward your door. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

—

Working two jobs to keep up with your discounted rent is tough. You’ve never been ashamed of either job, both of them honest work and both of them something you’re good at and damn proud of, but there’s no denying that it’s tough sometimes. 

The late hours at the club, though not every day, followed by an early wakeup call for the breakfast shift at the diner often called for little to no sleep, trudging into the building well past three AM with only enough time to shower and fall into bed for two hours before the alarm went off again at 5:30. But you made it work. Naps in the middle of the day and strategically planning which days you went into the club, you always made it work. Which means on the off nights you choose not to go into the club, you value your time and the opportunity to go to bed before midnight. 

It’s a rare Saturday night that you choose to stay home a few weeks after your move. Usually Fridays and Saturdays are your biggest tip nights so it’s rare that you skip, but it had been a particularly rough day at the diner and you have to go in even earlier than usual tomorrow to cover the overnight server’s vacation, so you decide it isn’t worth the added stress. You’ll just take a nice relaxing bath, maybe watch a movie on cable, and get to bed early.

Only, ever since Steve got home, there’s been a constant flow of people outside your front door, trailing from the elevator to Steve’s, some knocking, some letting themselves right in with a slam of the front door, most of them shouting. Their voices echoed off the walls and floated through the crack under your door. You wrote it off as a simple get-together and hoped it would die down soon, but to no such luck. The swell of voices and bass heavy music and generic party ambiance only grew louder as the night went on, and here you are. 

It’s two AM, your alarm is supposed to go off in just over an hour, and you’re wide awake, no, kept awake by the thumping of the party music on the other side of your shared wall and the boisterous laughter of Steve’s guests. 

You try not to be annoyed, really. Sure, it’s well past midnight, but it’s also Saturday, and you’re no square. Obviously people can have a good time and enjoy their weekend, but God, it’s so hard to not let the noise get to you, your anger bubbling just under your skin the longer the ruckus keeps you awake. 

Angrily shoving a pillow over your face, clamping it around your ears, you make note to say something to Steve the next time you see him. 

[personasintro]

corrupted | myg

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; what's worse than living in a fucked up and corrupted world?

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: yoongi x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: mafia au, angst (?)

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, misogyny, no feminism here, everything is fucked up here (hence the title lol)

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.9k+

While the world's riots and country has been unsettled for a while now, rotten and violated by local gangs, it is not the most unsettling part though. Citizens say it is controlled by someone of a higher and more dangerous status. Someone whose people always lurk in the shadows, doing dirty business. One, many people don’t know any details of.

You being one of them.

Being just another person who has been forced into living in today’s world, not that anyone had a choice, there is not much knowledge. People talk, they gossip and jump into conclusions. It’s hard to say what’s true or not. So naturally, they speculate and it’s always something harsh and scary.

After all, that’s how it works now.

Unless you’re not a part of one of the gangs, earning your rightful place there and doing all the dirty work of all kinds, you’re just a basic human trying to survive and not get into any trouble.

People work where they can. Just enough to earn money and buy themselves food, somewhere they can live and stay. The amount of homeless people who steal has rapidly increased since the government is gone. Everything is corrupted. Empty. Without life. Just darkness and fear.

There were times when the world has progressed.

Not for women, it is hard to find yourself a good living. Unless you don’t want to be a part of any brothel that’s almost at every corner. People are desperate. Some women love to do it, perhaps they feel powerful that way. Some are not there because they want to be. They use their bodies to bring food and a proper living either to themselves, or to their families.

It’s one of the things you refuse to do. As anyone could imagine, it’s not the cleanest and safest work. One you really refuse to succumb to.

But enough to go out, praying no harm will come to you during your time out of the comfort of the rented small and old apartment that you're staying in.

Clubs and bars are no safer than what is outside, right behind every wall and door. You still consider it as a better alternative of how you could earn enough money to cover your rent and bring food for yourself.

Some women, actually a good part of them, latch themselves to a gang man. It is one of the choices that secures you at least some kind of protection, money, food and roof under your head. They’re known to have more money and security. You see a member of a gang? You run. You don’t indulge yourself with any of them. They’re dangerous. Don’t take no for answers. Most of them.

So far, you haven’t had the chance to really talk to any of them. You avoid them at all costs.

People come out to drink and have fun, even if they know that if someone just got killed at this very moment, only few would react. That’s how fucked up this world is.

No one is truly safe. Even under the fake facade of the world being relatively at peace right now — the words of whispers saying it’s the big boss controlling the country — no one guarantees you safety. Whoever is “up there” and is not afraid to kill or do different sorts of fucked up actions, does not care about anyone’s lives. So many people lost their lives.

People you knew.

And no one cared.

Relatives can’t get any justice. Not even revenge.

A gang member kills someone you know? Someone you loved? There’s nothing you can do, unless you or someone you care about wants to be killed. It’s fucked up.

It’s almost ironic how people dance to the loud music, seeming not to care about how truly fucked up it really is. It’s almost like the world hasn’t changed, people laugh, have fun and are getting drunk. However, there is still a shadow casting upon everyone’s head, filling up every inch and corner available. Nothing is the same anymore.

You would be stupid to tell yourself anything different. Even if it was under the mask of pretending. Even if it’s for a while.

Sitting on a hardened bar stool, you shift in your spot to make yourself comfortable which is very impossible. The bar is hectic. It seems to be doing well considering the amount of people here. One of your neighbors told you they could possibly hire you. It does sound a little silly considering there are no contracts now. They either take you and you do what they say, or you can forget about any job.

As you scan your surroundings in this dim lighting, you spot someone sitting in the corner of your eyes. An empty barstool between you as that someone happens to be a man. You wouldn’t pay him that much attention, you’re just merely cautious when it comes to anyone that’s an arm length from you. He’s just sitting there, enjoying the drink that’s in front of him. It’s hard to spot any of his features, the lack of lights here make it very difficult.

You’re in your own thoughts, focusing on the sounds around you which are just loud and blasting music when suddenly the stranger stares dead in your eyes. Something clenches in your chest, a good portion of shock at the sudden eye contact as he must’ve felt you watching him. There is so much darkness that you fail to notice the tiny smirk that curls the corner of his lips.

He’s got strong features, a smaller and slightly rounder nose — at least that’s what you guess from the seconds that he stares right back at you until he turns back and focuses his eyes on his drink. He plays with a glass, long fingers wrapped around its neck as his fingertips brush ever so slightly against it.

Gulping, you look away, embarrassed that he has caught you so easily. So much for staying low…

“Hiya, cheeks. What can I get ya?”

Head snapping at the bartender who chews on his gum, you suppress the need to glare at him and his stupid nickname, you clench your jaw for a second before you allow yourself to relax.

“Soda will do.” You almost wave him off, oblivious to the deadpanned look you so easily earn in return as soon as you look away from him, not paying him any more attention or eye contact.

That’s until he laughs, rubbing his nose. “Soda? That’s what you fucking order when you’re in this bar?”

Startled at the attitude and obvious mockery, you frown. “I’m not here to get drunk. I’m here on business.” you justify, even though you don’t feel like you have to at all.

But to avoid any more reaction or attention from this dumb fuck, you have to keep it casual. You don’t want to draw any more attention. Fucking hell, you’re the most clothed woman in here. You already do draw enough attention for people to think you’re weird or sketchy. The truth is, not many people have seemed to notice you and you would prefer it that way. Knowing it’s just wishful thinking, you gulp down any insult that wants to come out.

“Ah, got it.” He nods and for a split second, you sigh in relief. But then the dumb fuck has to open his mouth again. “Perhaps you would find the time for me after I clock off here too.”

He smirks, walking away too quickly for you to even react. Your mouth opens agape, knowing what he thinks of you and what he initiated. He thinks you’re a hooker. Well, they’re known for drinking and taking drugs. On rare occasions, there are some who don’t do any of this. Their clients prefer them to be not under any influence. But again, it’s just what you’ve heard and learned to know from a third party.

It’s the deep chuckle beside you that makes you snap out of your offended state. There’s no one beside the man, he’s smirking at his drink and undoubtedly, he’s heard the entire exchange between you and the shitty bartender. It’s the audacity of him that he laughs at that, clearly mocking you just like the bartender did if not even more. He hasn’t been even a part of that ridiculous conversation.

And before you know it, your ego and irritation gets the best out of you. “What?”

You say loud enough for him to hear. You know he does but he still reacts as if he doesn’t hear you. He’s smirking at his glass, tapping his fingers on it a few times. Enough for you to notice the rings on his fingers. It’s like an alarm ringing in your head but it’s already gone by the time he suddenly and slowly looks up. He slowly turns his head, giving you a look with a raised brow. Almost as if he’s questioning if you were talking to him.

And despite the little nervousness inside you, you keep your ground and still stare at him. Even have the audacity to raise your brow at him, making it clear you’re talking to him. The corner of his mouth twitches.

“Not a hooker, huh?”

Is he trying to be funny?

Narrowing your eyes, you hide your clenched fists in your lap. “What? You were interested?”

Oh fuck. Where is this boldness coming from? What the fuck are you doing?! You’re usually careful of how you speak to others. What if he’s a gang member and he’ll pull out his gun and shoot your brains out? No one would bat an eyelash here if that really happened. They would just be annoyed they have to clean your remains. God, the thought of that makes you almost gag.

He breathes out what sounds like a chuckle, it’s hard to tell because it’s too silent for this loud surroundings. “What a girl like you is doing here?” he asks instead.

A girl. Did he just call you a girl?

You’re sure it has something to do with your appearance and a choice of clothing, but the fact he hasn’t referred to you as a woman bothers you. Not that women mean something in this world anyway. Sad to say but for most men and parts, they’re good for sex and that’s about it. It’s a rotten world.

Women barely get any respect.

This time, you use your brain in a better way and settle upon honest and casual information, which you shouldn’t exactly share to a mere stranger. But what harm could it do? It’s not like you just shared your name or any personal information that could tell him your identity. For him, you’re just another… girl in this bar. Perhaps he thinks you’re strange to come here, not drinking and wearing the shortest dress you own. You don’t even do that anymore.

You can’t remember the last time you wore a dress. You choose not to, not wanting to catch an unwanted pair of eyes and attention which is brutally sad and upsetting.

“I’m looking for a job.”

“Here?” he chuckles humorously almost immediately.

You frown, “What’s wrong about here?”

“Why here out of all places?” he questions instead.

“I don’t know if you haven’t noticed, but we don’t have much choice. I gotta live somehow.”

“I suppose it’s better than visiting a brothel, no shaming though.”

“What? Because you’re a daily client there?”

He looks up again for a moment, breathing out a light chuckle once again. Are you this funny? “You don’t belong here.”

You frown in confusion this time, “And where do I belong?”

He licks his lips, reaching for his glass as he silently sips onto whatever drink he has there. The liquid is darkish brown, you would guess that’s neat whiskey right there.

“They shot the latest bartender here.”

“Are you trying to scare me?”

He smiles, but it doesn’t offer any sweetness to it. “No. Just being informative.”

“You barely answer any of my questions.”

“Didn’t know it’s an obligation.”

You groan, rubbing your forehead just as the bartender brings you your alcohol free drink. Fuck. Maybe you should’ve ordered alcohol after all. You definitely might need it for this odd conversation.

“What do you do then?”

He taps his fingers against the counter, relaxed and smoothly as if he has a world in the palm of his hands. “Just here and about.”

“Hm, informative as always.” you mutter, ignoring the burning glance at the side of your face. It’s your time to sip on your drink, enjoying the lack of attention you give him.

You could imagine what kind of dirty work he does. Everyone does one in a way.

“Why are you sitting here then, when you’re looking for a job?”

You sigh, “I’m mapping out this place. I won’t show interest when something might happen here.”

“I just told you someone got killed here like a week ago. Shit happens here.”

“Shit happens everywhere. Thanks to this corrupted world and whoever is controlling it.”

It’s a silence between you for some time. Your curiosity rising up. He seems to be a regular here considering he knows about the shooting. Perhaps he could’ve heard it. You don’t ask any details about that though, settling on something much more curious. Many gossips are around and you do wonder what could he bring.

“Do you know who’s behind this?”

He stays silent, slowly turning his head to look at you again. None of you seem to be looking at each other the entire time.

“Does anyone?”

“Well, people talk. Everyone assumes it’s a man. What if it’s a woman?”

He chuckles.

“What? You think a woman is not capable of ruling the country?”

“I heard a lot of rumors but never that one.” he admits.

“What did you hear then?”

He does that thing again — the corner of his lips twitch in amusement. You don’t care about that though. For once, you actually feel nice to have a conversation. You don’t get a lot of opportunities to talk about this kind of stuff. It is dangerous to be talking about it so freely. Let alone with a stranger. But this one, you’re cautious about but he seems to be chilled out.

However, your guess of people might be wrong.

“Whoever rules it is ruthless.”

“He must be. Who’s okay with killing, violence and drugs? And I just named a very short list of them.”

“He? I thought you considered a female here.”

Popping your chin on your palm, you rest your elbow on the counter. “When you think about it, today’s all about dominance, power and money. Women mean nothing here.”

It’s the brutally honest truth.

“Besides, I don’t think a woman could be so ruthless to the point when people just kill each other.”

“You would be surprised.”

You narrow your eyes at him, not quite agreeing. Surely there could be a woman that would match up to any violent man there is. “I’m not misogynistic, so I won’t completely disagree with that. What makes me think it’s a man is a fact of how it is in here. Women are left fending for themselves and the most protection or at least the slightest feeling of power they can get, is through men.”

“Hm, that’s an… interesting observation.”

“What? You don’t agree?” you ask, snapping your head at him as he chuckles, in a low and vibrating tone.

“Nah, I think you might be onto something.”

You sigh, staring ahead. “Well, I’m just thinking out loud. I don’t get anything.”

There’s a silence between you two, the blasting music remaining in the background as a loud noise which you’re trying to block. It’s not like you’re not a fan of rap but come on, you’re about to get a headache.

The man suddenly stands, chugging the rest of his drink as if it’s nothing. No grimace, nothing. He doesn’t look drunk to the point where he could no longer feel the burn of alcohol.

“You should not work here.”

Your eyebrows shoot up and a speechless grimace makes it on your face. “Why?”

“It’s not safe.”

“Is there any safe place?”

He chuckles, scratching his eyebrow as he stays silent, giving you no proper answer.

“What’s your name?”

“Mingi.”

You frown, “You don’t look like Mingi.”

He snorts, rubbing his mouth for a quick second. “What do I look like?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble honestly. “But it’s not Mingi.”

He doesn’t disagree, he lets you think whatever you want. Again, you don’t know this man and you have no clue whether he’s lying or not. You do have a suspicion because something radiates from him, you’re just not sure what.

“And what’s your name?”

You scoff humorously, “I’m not telling you.”

There’s a breaking sound on your right side, glass breaking and a few people yelling at each other. From the looks of it, it’s two groups getting into a fight where a security tries to take care of it. There are punches thrown and you gasp at the violent image, even though it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. People fight on the streets all the time. You just hope whenever you see someone laying on the ground is a homeless person, and not a dead body.

You turn around, guessing the man is already giving you a knowing look where he warned you about this place.

However once you turn around there’s no one there.

There's an empty spot, almost like he’s been a friction of your imagination. A ghost. Someone that wasn’t even here.

But then there it is.

The empty glass he drank from.

It is enough to assure you that he was real.

[kingkatsuki]

— sleazy

Everyone thinks Red Riot is such a nice hero, but really he just loves fucking his cute, unsuspecting fangirls.

Pairing: Kirishima Eijirou x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, not proofread, non-con/dub-con, implied!drugging but could just be seen as intoxication, unprotected sex, teeny tiny bit of assplay, Kirishima promises to wear a condom but doesn’t, creampie, public sex.

Word Count: 2.5k.

“You’re so lucky!” You heard the voices around the table when the Red Riot had offered to buy you a drink.

Suddenly finding it difficult to speak when you gave him a nod in response, grateful that he’d looked down at your glass of wine as an indication of what to order you because you weren’t sure you would’ve been able to answer if he’d asked.

You felt hot as it seemed as though every set of eyes in the vicinity were on you now— from the women who wished that he’d picked them, to the men that he’d come in with standing around the bar. The angry blond more formerly known as Dynamight seemed to be glaring at you from across the room, shaking his head slightly before downing the rest of his whisky.

“Don’t worry about him,” Kirishima grinned softly at you as he handed you a glass, “He always looks like that.”

Kirishima had this perfect way of making you feel at ease, the friendly tone to his voice paired with kind eyes made it easy for you to melt into him. Silencing any objections you’d usually have if a guy leaned down to tug your chair closer to him, or wrapped their arm around your waist during a first date. It was different when it was Red Riot— you felt like you already knew him. From your television screen to the huge billboards that were up all over the city to promote his latest collaboration. The man that you followed on social media and religiously liked his posts, not that you’d told him that— although with another few drinks inside you, you might.

“You look gorgeous tonight, you know,” His warm lips brush the shell of your ear as he leans closer to talk to you over the loud bass of music in the club, “I just had to come and talk to you.”

You don’t even question it when he lays a huge palm on your bare thigh, his thumb disappearing beneath the hem of your dress. Ghosting against the lace of your panties as you give another glance around the bar to see if anyone is looking— the only set of eyes that match your gaze are the same crimson ones from earlier, Dynamight still watching intently as he nurses his drink.

The fact that the Red Riot has asked for your number, bought you countless drinks and given you his undivided attention has you bursting with glee. Certain that none of your friends will believe you, instead wishing they’d come to the bar tonight to see for themselves when you tell them that you’re courting the number twelve hero.

“It’s so loud here,” His palm squeezes your inner thigh and you can’t stop your heart from pounding against your ribcage, making it difficult to breathe as his warm breath fans your skin, “Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”

“Yeah, sure.” You find yourself nodding as he helps you stand, certain you weren’t this drunk before.

“Whoops—” He grins as he grabs your hips, his fingers brushing the curve of your ass as he keeps you upright, “I’ve got you.”

And it’s that moment you feel his hard bulge pressed against the small of your back. Even in heels he dominates your size, towering over you as a pure wall of strength and muscle as he guides you through the crowds. Stepping down a quieter hall that leads towards the bathrooms as he presses you against a wall, large palms still planted firm on your hips.

“I’ve wanted you all night,” He sighs, pressing wet open-mouthed kisses against your neck, “I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

“This is too fast,” You mumble, already feeling his fingers dipping beneath your skirt to grab your ass.

“Aw, sweetheart. I’m sorry,” He seems so sincere when he looks down at you with worried eyes, “Shall I call you a cab home? I just thought you wanted to have some fun.”

“I do, but—”

“But you’d prefer Dynamight or someone, huh?” His eyes droop, “I get it, that always fucking happens when it’s someone I really like—”

“No! I like you too,” You panic when he takes a step back, trying to step forward as you stumble into his arms.

“You do?” He coos, holding you tight, “I’m so lucky I found you.”

It’s embarrassing when he tugs you into the men’s bathroom, sets of eyes watching you with knowing looks from the urinals as he opts for a stall. Locking the door as he presses you against the sink, allowing you to look at him through the reflection in the mirror as he pulls your top over your breasts.

“You’re fucking stunning,” He groans, cupping your breasts as you grind yourself back against him. Alcohol inebriating your senses as he strokes your body, wondering whether you should just tell him to slow down now.

“It’s too much,” You mumble, unsure whether he put something in your drink as your head pounds.

But this is Red Riot, he wouldn’t do that, would he? He’s a Pro-Hero tasked to protect you from sleazy people like that, to make sure you’re safe.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He coos, “I’ll take good care of you.”

“We shouldn’t,” You slur, “Not here.”

“Oh? But I bought you all those drinks,” He mumbles against your neck, “I thought you liked me.”

“I do!” You panic, catching the forlorn look on his face.

“You do?” His eyes immediately brighten, “I’m glad because I like you too, sweetheart. A lot—”

He has you feeling like a giddy, lovesick schoolgirl as he reaches under your skirt to pull down your panties. Letting the fabric settle around your knees as he works on unbuckling his jeans. A large palm splayed on your back to push you over the sink as he guides the leaky tip towards your slit.

“Wait,” You mumble, trying not to slur your words, “Condom.”

You miss the look of annoyance that flashes through Kirishima’s eyes in his reflection in the mirror as you turn to look back at him before that same smile spreads on his face.

“Of course, sweetheart. What do you take me for?” He’s cooing at you as he reaches into his wallet to retrieve a large foil packet, ripping it with his teeth as he leans down to put it on, “Safety first, yeah?”

And the tip of his cock nudges against your ass, feeling the slickness of lube from the latex smear against your bare ass as you cling to the porcelain. Holding on as you watch him in the mirror as he slides the condom onto his cock.

“There,” His hand smooths along your ass, rubbing the lube against your skin to get it off his hand as he pushes his hips forward.

He’s big. The swollen tip enough to have a lump in your throat as you forget to breathe, wiggling your hips in a feeble attempt to reduce the ache.

“Shh, baby. I know, I know.” He coos, pulling back to fist his cock, “Let’s try again, yeah?”

But you don’t notice the devious smirk on his face, or the way his eyes glint with intent as he slides the annoying latex off his thick cock. Discarding it to the floor like trash as he wraps his cock in a large fist again, tapping the leaking tip on your slit before sliding it through your folds. Letting it catch against your tight entrance again as he can finally feel you without a latex barrier.

“Is this okay?” He hums, keeping his tip pressed against your quivering hole.

You nod in response as you try to remember to breathe, taking in large gulps of air as you feel him slowly push his hips forward.

“I’m gonna need to hear you say it, sweetheart.” He pushes.

“Yeah, I want it.” You groan as he immediately pushes forward, feeling the tightness between your thighs.

“Oh, shit.” His eyes roll back as he groans at the feeling of your walls sucking him in. He’s far less kind now he can truly feel you as he cants his hips forward without a moment for you to adjust, the pain comes sharp and fast as he stretches you out on his cock.

“Ow,” You choke, your head lolling forward as you try to breathe, the ache between your thighs throbs sharply as Kirishima feigns sympathy.

Telling you what a good girl you are for him, what a good job you’re doing, that you’re his favourite. Clever lines he’s rehearsed time and time again, and it just so happens that they’re working on you just like they have a hundred times before on other girls.

You think you’re special, and in this moment you are. He’s picked you.

“God, your pussy feels so fucking good.” He grunts, warm palms heavy on your ass as he spreads you apart to see his cock buried deep inside your walls. The messy tuft of hair at the base tickles your skin as he pulls his hips back to give an experimental thrusr, “Taking me so well.”

You’re a mess as he fucks into you, your tits bounce with every rough buck of his hips as he presses you into the porcelain sink, your cheek leaves a messy streak of foundation against the mirror as he sets a brutal pace. Telling you it’s because he’s worried someone could come in and see you like this, that he wishes he could have you for longer to really take care of you.

And you believe every line.

“God, sweetheart. Your pussy feels amazing,” Kirishima groans, his thumb brushing the tight rim of your ass as your body jolts in surprise. Embarrassed and terrified at the same time.

“Not there, please—”

“Oh god, baby. I would never.” He shakes his head, but presses down harder against your tight hole, “Relax, Red Riot’s got you, yeah?”

His words are soothing as you try to focus on the pleasure, trying to block out the sound of footsteps outside and the way your cunt clenches around him every time someone rattles the door handle.

“Fuck, you’re clamping down on me, sweets,” He slurs, drunk on pleasure, “You’re tryin’ to milk me.”

He sucks air sharply through his teeth as he bends his back to watch his cock disappearing inside you, the slap of his balls against the swell of your thighs sounds inside the dingy bathroom as your legs shake. Balancing yourself in heels as you try to stop the sink from digging into your hips uncomfortably, certain you’ll have bruises in the morning.

“Gonna cum, shit— gonna fill this little pussy up.” He groans, and you’re certain it’s just words. Dirty talk to help get himself off as he prepares to cum inside the condom, “You want that, baby? Want me to fill you up?”

“Yes,” You find yourself playing into it, your walls throb around him as he works you towards your own release.

“That’s my girl,” He grins, reaching around to press messy circles against your puffy clit, “Gonna stuff you full of my cum.”

“Oh my god,” You repeat, clinging to the sink to keep yourself upright as you feel yourself on the edge of your release. The familiar pleasure building between your thighs as Kirishima leads you into bliss, “Kiri—”

“Red Riot, call me Red Riot—” His fingertips dig into you bruisingly as your cunt begins to convulse.

“Red Riot!” You mewl, “I’m cumming, Red Riot—”

“Oh shit, you want the entire bar to hear you, don’t you?” He grins, spanking your ass as your cunt spasms around him.

Kirishima fucks you through your climax, roughly thrusting into you as you feel the tip of him as deep as he can go. Kissing your cervix with each forward motion as he focuses on his own pleasure, his own desire.

“Hurts,” You choke out as you try to ignore the throb between your thighs or the way your skin digs uncomfortably into the porcelain.

“I’m almost there, sweetheart. Almost there—” He groans, ignoring your pleas, “Gonna fill you up.”

It doesn’t take him much longer to find his own release, his balls tightening as they begin to empty warm, hot spurts of cum into your pulsing walls. His hands smoothing down your back before reaching around to palm your naked breasts before pulling back.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” He groans when he pulls out to see strings of your slick connecting his softening cock to your folds.

And that’s when you feel it.

Warm globs of his cum slowly seeping out of your quivering walls, dribbling down your inner thighs and dropping onto the dirty floor.

“Did you— the condom?” You ask in confusion as you turn your head to face him, noticing the shiny gleam of his cock in the fluorescent lights of the bathroom as he gives you a cheeky grin.

“Oh, it must’ve ripped,” He shrugs, sticking himself back into his boxers with no care about how messy he is, “Sorry about that, sweetheart. You’ll be okay, I’m clean.”

Kirishima has just enough manners to pull your panties back up, even though you don’t have a chance to clean yourself up. Feeling his warm cum continue to drool out of you and collect in the lace of the crotch as you shuffle uncomfortably. Tugging your skirt back down as you fix your top, hearing Kirishima buckle his belt again as he checks himself out in the mirror.

“I’ll call you yeah, sweetheart?” He presses a lingering kiss to your cheek before unlocking the door to the men’s bathroom stall and stepping outside. Leaving you standing alone in the room as you stare back at your disheveled reflection.

It’s only when you look down at the ground where you notice the drops of his cum that had fallen to the floor, and beside them the discarded condom still in the perfect roll from the pack.

That he hadn’t even bothered to put on.

[dietmountaindewbae]

FETUS DOM AL BTB ERA PLZPLZ PLZ PLZ LOVE UR WORK SM

xxiv. she's so high

alex turner x reader

word count: 10816

summary: Alex (btb!) has a complicated relationship with you.

warnings: dr*gs, alcoh*l, fighting, degrad*ng.

song requests: the lotts, stoned again, teenage riot, about a girl, get drunk, i don’t belong, gouge away, breaking the girl & liberty belle.

──────────୨୧───────────

Since the beginning of your friendship with your best friend Maggy, you knew that your older brother Matt had something to do with her, always teased her, annoyed her, just to get her to talk to him, and when she finally realized how much he liked her, they were quick to start dating. Matt was cool, he filled in the shoes of the older brother and best friend role perfectly, your number one confidant, and your partner in crime, it was weird when they didn't see the three of you together, you thought it was best to let things be cool in between all of you. Besides, you knew Matt, and you knew your friend, and you saw this love blooming so beautifully.

Matt was very popular, and that's the only reason you were popular in the first place, Helder's little sister, ever since he and his mates played at The Grapes everyone was trying to be friends with you to get with any of the boys in the band, boys all over you since you took a change in style, even though you often saw them rehearse in the garage, you knew them all since little kids. Jamie, Andy, and Alex were Matt's childhood best friends, you liked them all, except for one.

"I can't believe Alex threw Matt's stick at me," Maggy laughs at you as you show her the bruise on your thigh, and the redness in your cheeks when you get mad.

"Sounds like someone fancies you" You rolled your eyes and scoffed, Maggy invited you to her house for a very-needed sleepover, just you and her so that you could work on some cool designs for the monkey's flyers, they had a significant gig coming soon, in a couple of days they were off to play at a club and if things went well they were only up from there. Maggy gave her opinions and talked to you while you kept writing by hand the font for their name.

"Piss off" Alex was a dickhead with you, he always did everything to get you mad ever since you became quiet around him, laughed at you when you called him a prick, or when your cheeks turned bright red, and your eyebrows were pushed together. Since you were kids he hasn't stopped bugging you and calling you Mardy Bum, you didn't despise him, you just hated how much he teased you, so much that you teased him in different ways. You knew he fancied you, but you never really did anything to give him hope.

"You know how boys are, look at me and Matt" You cross your arms, laying on the floor next to her, "Don't be so cold, one day you'll fall in lo-"

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, "Love, love, love... what is it good for?" Maggy nudged your shoulder, "Absolutely nothin'" Then you heard her phone buzzing from under the pillow, you bet it was Matt. She stood up from the ground and you kept gluing more pictures into the flyers so you could print them out for their gig.

"Wait..." You turn your head, and Maggy sits down to write back to Matt with a smile on her face, "Change of plans, get ready now, Matt's gonna pick us up... they're playing today, are the flyers ready?"

"Almost but... what do you mean they're playin' today, wasn't it tomorrow?" Maggie quickly changed into her clothes and started to do her makeup as fast as she could, putting some sparkly golden eye shadow in her eyes.

"I'm serious, finish that, and I'll pick your clothes, I'll do your makeup on the floor" You cut up more pictures of them as fast as you can, and stick some stickers into the paper as Maggy does your makeup at the speed of light, she sets up an outfit for you but you didn't get enough time to change, by the time the flyers were done Matt had already arrived with the guys in Andy's mum's van. Alex and Matt stepped out and jumped the brick wall into Maggy's garden, she waved hi at them and threw some clothes at Matt's face, "Come here, fast!" You couldn't believe you were crawling out the window with your pajamas and black boots on while Maggy was all glammed and ready for the night, the things you do for them.

She carefully crawled out and sat on the edge of her roof, Matt secured her legs and she jumped out of the roof with his help, they peck their lips lingeringly and you roll your eyes as you see who came to help you jump, you must be taking a piss.

Alex was waiting for you with his arms crossed, wearing a long-sleeved cherry red shirt and his vintage Levi's denim jacket and jeans to pair with his black Adidas, he was standing crossed arm bitting on his bottom lip, looking giddy and worried, looking around the place to make sure no one was watching us, you laughed at how much of a goodie he was, he wouldn't even dare to pull a quest like this ever, "Why are you standing like that? Are you some crook?" He smacks his lips and rolls his eyes as you throw him your heavy leather jacket, "Bet you're shitting yourself"

He scoffed and laughed nervously saying no with his head, but you knew his little heart was pumping fast and his tummy was twisting round and round, "Just get the fuck down Juliet" You kick his arm earning a quiet grunt from him, and his arm wraps around your thighs and you hold on to his shoulders as he helps you to get down from the roof, and when you land on the ground his hand lightly squeezes your ass.

"You're no Romeo" You hit him in the arm, and he kneels intertwining his fingers to catapult you to the other side of the wall, "I swear if you grab my arse again I will castrate you" He doesn't sound too threatened by you, even though you're squinting your eyes, and your eyebrows are in frown he ignores you.

"Are you gunna jump or what?" You grab some impulse and Alex jumps high enough to grip the edge of the wall, "Help me" He struggles, "Help me Mardy!" He demands with annoyance.

"Say you're sorry first" He rolls his eyes, you didn't care if he was hanging from the edge of a cliff, he had to apologize, even if you didn't care, you just wanted to hear that word coming out of his cocky mouth.

"Right, right... I'm sorreh Mardy..." His jaw clenched, and he didn't mean it at all but you were more than satisfied, you grabbed his hand tightly pulled him in and he sat next to you recovering his breath, "Does that get you off or what?" You both jump down and run to the van, Maggy sitting on Matt's lap while Jamie is in the front seat next to Andy who was the designated driver and will surely be the death of you all, all their guitar cases were pilled up in the back and an amp was stuffed in the middle of the seats.

"Where is she supposed to sit?"Jamie said, Matt and Maggy look at each other, and back at you, and then Alex holds his hand out for you and you sigh, he pulls you in and you sit on his knee.

"I swear if I feel one hand..." He nods his head with a grin.

"I know" He smiles at you, biting his bottom lip, you and Maggy look at each other, you try not to be bothered by that, but it feels a little strange, you had seen him do that a few times, but his eyes, gazing at your intensely, it makes you feel some way, it feels wrong but it excites you.

Maggy handed you over the clothes you would change into, "Look away" You say to him, he looks through the window, and you take your top off quickly, kicking your shoes off so you can strip down your pajamas and slide on your tights, and then your skirt, taking a small pause to fix your makeup, but suddenly Andy steps on the gas, going so fast the speed pushes your back against Alex's chest, "Shit!" Everyone was laughing as Andy played around with the car, changing lanes going in zic zac feeling the adrenaline spike in your veins, you grabbed Alex's hand tightly without even noticing, he took advantage of the moment, he put his hand on your waist to hold you tightly, he admired you, your laughter, your pouty lips and deep eyes, your soft skin and the belly button ring he had seen a couple of times whenever you wore a crop top around the guys during rehearsals. He twists your skin in between his fingers, pinching it just to get you to see him, "Wanker" You tease him, both smiling at each other. And just for a split second, he thought maybe you could like him, but your smile faded away as blue and red lights flashed before your eyes, the only reason Andy stopped was when he heard the police sirens catching up to you all.

"Fuckin' hell!"

"We're never gunna get there"

"Pull over!"

"Don't pull over, drive!"

"Andy!"

"Shut the fuck up, I'm pullin' over!" Andy screamed and everyone was panicking, spitting the most grotesque curses under their breaths. Maggy was quick to get on her knees and hide in the little space in between the seat in front of her and Matt, she used it as a shelter.

"Hide love," Alex says, you follow the same steps as Maggy, Alex takes off his denim jacket and covers you, if the coppers were to see two underaged girls, both half-dressed in the back of the car with two boys, on their knees, everyone would get arrested for pulling a scene like this, Andy's license would be taken away, their dreams and their freedom would be stripped out from all of them the moment they got home after being bailed out, and that's even if their mothers did. Alex managed to hide you, not well, but you wrapped yourself up in a little ball and hid yourself from the coppers.

Two knocks at the window from the grey-haired officers with truncheons dressed in hats make Andy gulp, one officer on each side of the window, 6 teenagers shivering and shitting themselves, "Oh hello officer, good evenin'" Fuck off Andy.

"Where do you think you're going? Speedin' like that in the middle of the road at 12:30 on a Saturday night? What's got you lots in such a hurry?" Andy stuttered, Jamie pinched the bridge of his nose as the other officer looked at him with annoyance, "Have you been drinkin' son? You don't look old enough to me"

"I'm sorry, officer, is there a certain age you're supposed to be? 'Cause nobody told me" Jamie punched him in the leg by trying to outsmart them, and the officer flashed his lights at Jamie, he wasn't feeling well, he looked as if he was about to puke his liver out, and his heart pumping blood to his system so fast he was starting to sweat.

"Your friend looks sweaty," Andy looked at him, and Jamie looked back at the officer, "Right, that's enough... " Said the office on the right, Andy looked back at Jamie, then to Alex and Matt through the rearview, all of them thinking the same, it was time, the officer on the left took a step back, flashed his light at Alex's eyes, and if he took a deeper look in, he would see where your body was hiding, curled up into a tiny little ball, you were shaking beneath his feet, the thrill in the fear both mix in. Alex could feel you, he felt his heart pumping like gas, the moment one of the officers began to examine Matt and Alex, Alex mouths the word, "Drive!" To andy.

Andy, not looking back, not doubting twice, steps on the gas of his mum's van leaving the coppers behind, and uprolls the riot van it sparks excitement in the boys, and the policemen look annoyed.

Everyone's fists up in the air, punching the ceiling, chanting, "Andy! Andy! Andy!" We ran away just for the laugh, Alex settled you on his lap once more, holding you close, tightly, securing you, and you fell into his chest, your ear against his heart, hearing it pump faster, even faster since he could feel your warm skin filled with goosebumps, you were still wearing nothing but your skirt and your bra, his hand pressed flat on your back, his deep brown eyes, looking at you with desire, what is happening? You think to yourself. Something was certainly going to happen tonight, and not getting arrested by miracle was one of them.

"Havin' a good time? " His gaze petrified you, his eyes looking at you in a way no one had ever done before, and you shivered. His eyes ran down your body, thinking about how hot you looked wearing his jacket, your black brazier, and that belly button ring, but he mostly loved your cute little braids on your black shiny hair, reminded him of the times when you were younger, and you shone like the sun, you weren't so dark, so mysterious, what other secrets do you keep from your mum? You're off the rails, and you love facing the obscure, and the thrill of it, and his eyes sparked that excitement in you, you hated to submit to that fact.

"Perv" You grin and quickly look for your shirt, you toss him back his jacket and get dressed for once, and when you finally sit up straight, you see the knuckles of his fingers clinging to the holes of your tights like claws, you don't say anything, it was a silent touch in between you too, you settled on his knee again, legs open, just to try and see what happens.

"Who's the crook in this crime now?" You rolled your eyes at his awful joke, his fingertips now lightly caressed your skin, just gently, almost undetectable, but you felt it. Andy went through some bumps, and they made you bounce on Alex's knee, you could feel his eyes all over you, and he leaned into your ear, "Don't you like that?" Your touch electrifies the little hairs on his arms, he puts his hand on your black leather bracelet and hoops, and you snatch your wrist away from him, and look at him from the side.

"Like, what?" You spit back, your eyes locked in a stare, he's too afraid to say anything else, he is annoyed, he doesn't understand what is he doing so wrong when all he wants is your attention.

"It's not easy to talk to you Mardy, you're unpredictable, inscrutable, you're cold, but when you're nice-" You crossed your arms, while Alex tried to find an answer from you, and all he got was nothing, he can't wrap his head around you, he can't figure you out.

"Don't start" He knew you were troubled, looking for fun in all the wrong places but in the eyes of your parents you were a calm girl, who knew how to behave when in secret you sneaked boys on and off your bedroom window and stuck some snow down your nose so you could smile, you didn't talk to him anymore, that's why he teased you, just to get any reaction from you like the old times, and in the rare occasion he made you smile at him even just for a second, or when your eyes run into each other by accident, spiders crawl all over his skin.

All you did was leave his poor brain like spinning plates.

When the time arrived after an hour's drive, you were in the back of the strange club, the night was cold and you were shivering, you thought you might reach for Maggy's hand, but she was too busy with Matt, and you felt it, you were alone. You form in a line at the back, where all the bands form together.

These two bouncers stopped you all at the entrance, one was alright, but the other one was scary, he had no time for you looking or breathing, just wanting to tell all of you to kick off, the lots in the back all wearing black while all of you were dressed in distressed jeans, polo's and hoodies, you and Maggy looked younger and weaker compared to the rest, the bouncer, the scary one, eyed you both up and down, "We're Arctic Monkeys, we're the opening band for tonight" Alex shows his wrist band and gives out the flyer you made for the gig, all of the boys wearing one except you and Maggy

The scary bouncer looks at his mate, "And the girls?"

"They're coming with us" Everyone in line was telling you all to piss off, to go back home, but you could see it clearly in Matt's sparkly eyes, he was cracking up, this was a chance they couldn't lose.

"ID," The man said, fuckin' hell, seems like there's no other choice you thought to yourself. That was the thing about you, you could kiss all the boys, but you were too clever to be a slag, and when you wanted something badly, like now, you could play the role of being a cunt if you had to to get what you wanted,"If they haven't got one, they can't come in, no minors"

"But I bet that's no problem for you is it, big man?" You take a step forward, looking at him dead in the eye, your cat eyes ready to attack, sometimes you had to grab the bull from its balls for him to understand what where you trying to say, you take a step close to him, Maggy knew exactly what you were doing, she discreetly whispers to Matt to turn around, and you flash them both your tits, easily as that.

"I've seen better," He says with no care, and he with no option but to suffer from his smart choice of words.

"I thought you would know better" You grab his balls tightly taking him by surprise, "We all have a prize, what's the prize for your head?" You dig your nails in between his legs, squeezing him tightly, and you bite your lower lip, his mate watching you carefully, he is amazed, "10... 20..." He twists in pain, weeping and his mouth shaking, "You're the only one that keeps crying like a little shit, is that what you are? Mummy's little boy" You mock his little weeping, "You sound pathetic"

"10 pounds, you and your mate," He says between greeted teeth, he knew better than to not lay a hand on you, and the other guy as well, but you were impressed by how quiet he was, the scary man looks at his mate and he stays still, he eyed you up and down, shamelessly looking at your tits with a grin, "Mind helpin' me out here?"

"Nah, I'm good" You flirt with him with your smile and your eyes, and he winks his eye. Alex barely recognizes you at this point, any knowledge of you had been stripped from the idea he had in his head. The girl he likes, she was still somewhere, Mardy was still there buried inside you, hidden beneath all of that eyeliner and silver sparkles, trapped in your coldness, now it was his turn to make a true effort to know you since he truly cares for you.

"Just get the fuck in" You let him go and smile at him, his mate opens the door for you, and your smile fades living him confused, and that's how you bite the men, insert your poison and leave them twisting in pain, which meant he and Alex have something in common.

"Watch your girl," He says to Al, they both look back at you and before you go into the party you answer back to them.

"I don't belong to anyone" You disappear into the darkness, Alex kept wondering how you and Matt were related, he would never do something like that, act like this, you enjoyed staying in the cold, while Matt stayed balanced, warm, friendly, but you... he had not a single clue.

You and Maggy follow them to the back, she was holding your brother's sweaty hand with care, Matt knew better than to keep yours and his things in between you two, you weren't one to pull these scenes, he and Maggy knew that you only stepped in when needed, and you needed to get in, because a part of you, not only cared deeply about your brother's dreams, a part of you cared deeply about the boy in that denim jacket with a hoodie and his dreams, the one carrying the heavy amp and his bass with his arms, and the one with red cheeks almost as red as his guitar. They had worked hard, and Alex had passed late nights trying to squeeze more songs off of his brain, tonight could change things, but this night felt different.

You helped to set them up on the stage, many boys whistling and savoring you with their eyes, and as you were stepping down, Alex was waiting for you by the staircase next to the stage, and to your surprise, he was already knackered, pulling on his messy brown hair, "What?" You say close to his ear, he squeezes your shoulders together.

"All I wanted to say was that... I care about you Mardy, I don't know what happened to you... but I wanna kno' where's my Mardy? The one that laughed and joked around? The one that always teased me and played with me in the swings, the one that hugged me sporadically... what do I need to do to get you-" The microphone's intermission cuts Alex's questions, his face in a frown, his eyes filled with so many emotions and booze.

"Right on! Up next say hello to my little friends... Arctic Monkeys!" Everyone chants the boy's names, clapping and waiting for them with excitement. He wants to reach for your hands, but Jamie comes running up the stairs.

"You're up... you are all gonna do great" Matt and Andy pull him to the stage, he was made a total mess, his eyes red shot and his mouth dry, he takes a step in front of the mic, strapping his strat across his body, Andy was buzzing with excitement, Jamie finished tunning his fiesta red telecaster, Matt blew a kiss to Maggy, and she grabs it with her fist and presses it against her chest.

Maggy quickly ran with you to be in the sea of people, pushing each one of them away with your elbow or with your shoulders, holding onto your hand like a safe lock with a chain, and got to the front safely, right beneath Alex's feet, you look at him through your lashes and wink at him, "Rock on!" Maggy and yourself secure arms, and the moment Matt begins the count down electricity rushes into your veins.

The crowd was a riot, they played songs back to back, you and Maggy jumping and screaming the songs at the top of your lungs, Andy rocked that bass with his groovy lines that accentuated each of the riffs Alex and Jamie played back on back, Matt was dripping in sweet his face all flushed just like yours did, genetics. Your body was getting tired, your feet were bruised from the number of people that stepped on them, then your hair was pulled by accident by the tall boy next to you with a spiky leather bracelet on his wrist, "Are you alright?" He yells into your ear, Alex quickly notices it, and his eyes focus on you and the block you are talking to, he notices how close his lips are to your cheek, and he sees you nodding your head and laughing so hard at what he was slurring into your ear, he felt some relieve he had pulled away from you but then he kneeled to the ground and you threw your leg over his head, picking you up from his shoulders, you were pure euphoria all over the place, you threw your jacket to the stage, making it land on Alex on purpose, he smiles at you as the block squeezes your thighs. He can't find the answers to all of the questions in his head, you were many things, but one of them was unpredictable, too clever.

He watches you light a smoke, his eyes light up as your lips curl into a smile, you are aware of his gaze on you, those same eyes on his face looking at you with burning desire, he feels the heat, and now it is the time, he stripped off his cares, and with the liquid courage in his veins he had the nerve to sing the next song.

"Alreyt! How you doin' tonight?!" Everyone chants and whistles at Alex's rowdy and drunken voice, the crowd surfers up in the air, with no shirts and no care, "I said how you fuckin' doin' tonight?!" You whistle back at him with your fingers in your mouth, and he watches you with a smile going down memory lane as he hears your childish laughter, "We're Arctic Monkeys, and this next song is about a girl, you know who you are..." He slurs looking at you with his watery doe eyes, "This one is called...!" Jamie bends his strings, and Alex's strings ring through the amps loaded with fuzz, your ears ringing with the sharp intermission, provoking a fire in their spirits, "Space Invaders!" His fingers hit the top strings of his white strat, hitting those power chords hard, and he doesn't take his eyes away from you, not even to blink when he starts singing.

Space invaders flying home Yeah, they're going to hit the sack And they are prob'ly going to die getting high Cause they're mixing crazy ... with the crack

You eye him, and you invite him in with your eyes, igniting a fire that spreads all over his body, he looks at you with his casanova eyes, smirking, sounding more confident than ever, that version of him suits him very handsomely, you were thrilled to see what else had he had to say in between those catchy riffs and clever lyrics.

And she's kissing all the boys She's to clever to be slack But she's bound to go away for a day In July, so she won't be coming back

This song with no doubt was about you, kissing all the boys? You're all he could ever think about, so you give him exactly what he wants, a reaction, you take your index and slide it inside your mouth, sucking it and pulling out your middle finger with a grin on your lips, he strums his strings faster to sing the chorus.

Baby, baby, baby The good old days to tax Baby, baby, baby Won't you dry your pretty eyes Baby, baby, baby Your good old days to tax Come on!

Your heart flutters, and a strange feeling of something inside you feeling full makes your gut twitch, he moans into the microphone, and you feel a dull ache in between your legs as he rolls his eyes back, knowing well you had provoked him, you didn't know what you did to earn that song, but Alex could write a million songs and still not be finished. Maggy looks at you and your arms up in the air, swaying them and smiling, you truly feel happy, but you know that happiness doesn't last forever, but you'll miss it and it sickened you to know so. You tell the big guy to put you down as the show is ending and the monkeys are finishing up the song, to wrap it up.

The boy tries to follow you but you escape him, "That's all for the night folks, you were a lovely crowd, remember we're Arctic Monkeys, goodnight!" You push the people away, looking for an escape from all you are about to feel soon.

Alex comes down from the stage, Maggy is the only one waiting for them on the staircase, "Where's- where is she?" Alex asks Maggy, she shrugs and looks at Matt.

"She walked away as the show ended, I thought she was going here but... I lost her, she'll be back soon, maybe she went out with that block" Alex was losing his mind, he was self-aware about the song he had made for you, told everyone it was about another girl, but what other fucking girl? there was no other girl, you were the only one that he was fixated on.

"Matt, I need to talk to you" He was so scared of blowing things off, by confessing his massive crush on his best mate's little sister, but you were all that he wanted since you were all little kids, he was rambling about so many things, and he was trying to explain himself but going nowhere apologizing at the end of every sentence he made but Matt stopped him.

"Alex, you can tell me anything, you know that," Matt says understandingly, he knew what he was about to say.

"But I'm afraid you'll hate me forever" He scratches his arm, and Matt takes a step forward and stops him from bruising his arm, Alex didn't want to hurt his best mate, but Matt knew since the beginning.

"I'm afraid you'll get heartbroken, she can be a handful Al, you know that" Alex sighs, and Matt hugs him tight, "But I also know you can help her heal, I just don't want you to get hurt in the process" Alex smiled at Matt.

"We all have to try our best for the ones we love" Matt punches him in his shoulder pushing him away, they both laugh and hug once more, "So, is it ok If I... ?" Matt nods his head, patting his back.

"But if you dare to do summat to her..." Matt and Alex laugh at each other, and he pats Alex's back with care knowing well that you were the one that would probably do things to Alex. Matt is happy, Alex is descent, and he knows he'll help you by loving you, "Go get her, I have a feeling she might be outside" And like that Alex rushes outside, running through the crowded room and going through the back door, you were outside with the bouncer, the nice one, and looking as if you were flirting with him, he was quick to shut that down.

"Mardy" He sees your face light up, and you smile at him but it wasn't because you wanted to, it was because you were already pissed up, the bouncer scratches the back of his head.

"Hey, rockstar" You giggle drunkenly, if you weren't standing next to him he would've already kicked that man's face, "Looking for me?" You teased.

"Thought she didn't belong to anyone" The man crosses his arms as he sees you looking at Alex with a smile, you wanted to eat him up, "She's a cunt" Alex takes a step forward but you stop him.

"The fuck did you say?" He spits.

"Don't" You knew he stood no chance against the 6 ft bouncer, so maybe you were right, Alex didn't stand a chance but he wasn't one to handle disrespect nicely. He and you walked back inside together dancing in the lights, letting them flash beneath your eyes, letting the tempo mark your dancing in the blue neon lights, the white neon lights flash on your face, and you turn to look at Alex, he was in a trance as your heavenly eyes look at him, you pull him in, and you make him dance with you.

"How much did you have?" He asks and you push your shoulders together with no care grabbing his hands to dance with him to the music, his eyes looking at your lips and your body with desire, he was all in for you, he was made a fool for you.

"I like the song you made me for me Al" You take a step closer to him, and his breathing gets stuck as he hears his heartbeat in his ears, he can smell your lovely perfume, and he can see your diamond eyes, your pink glossy lips so close to him, just for you to kiss his cheek, "I liked it" He closed his eyes, feeling your lips linger and burn on his cheek like a cigarette burning on his skin, and just like that, you disappear into thin air, he had lost you in that crazy amount of people. 

"For fucks sake..." He sighed as he downs more cups of the cheapest booze trying to locate you with his eyes, he was losing his mind, his heart beating in his ears, the booze making his body feel light and dizzy but his head made a mess. He was feeling paranoid and worried sick of losing you, but his ears rang at the sound of your voice like a loyal dog.

"I said goddamn!" You scream at the top of your lungs, he sees you snorting some thin lines of coke by some settees with a mirror and a tiny spoon, laughing so loudly it made your stomach hurt, he knew exactly the 10 minutes you were lost were right about enough for you to do anything you wanted, you had no one to stop you. Alex sits next to you impulsively.

"Hey," Says the girl with messy blonde hair sitting next to him, her eyes red with a woozy smile, "You were really good up there" He feels your eyes lingering on him, he feels he has all of your attention by now, as you probably give her the deadliest glare.

"Do you wanna suck his cock too?" You spit, taking her by surprise, so amazed by your rudeness she chose to leave the table and go somewhere else, Alex looks at you with a scowl, and you ignore him, taking another sip of your drink free of guilt.

"Why can you be talking to other people but I can't?" You shrug it off, sitting back in the worn-out leather settee, crossed leg, he waits for you to speak looking at you intensely, you thought you could handle this contest with ease, but it was only a matter of time until he got to you.

"You can do what you wanna do, be with who you want to be," You say to him, manipulating him, "I don't own you, Alex"

"So, why do you 'fink I chose to stay with you, Mardy?" He drawls, sitting closer to you, his knee touching yours, "Don't push me away, I meant what I said" He referred to the song he had sung for you with love and passion, and your heart skips a beat, and this feeling feels strange, his determination and the firmness of his words made your head spin, it draws you closer to him.

"... don't think you've got me all figured out" But he knew right where to start as the girl holding the coke came in, snorting another line and shaking her hair off her face, smiling and dancing, it gave her power.

"Want another line?" She asks you, you glance at Alex and smirk as you snort another line, you overestimated him and his intentions, his eyes lock with yours, he wasn't one to do these things, he may have had a few funny cigarettes but not as often. He was determined to feel the same way as you do.

"You wouldn't" You dare him, and that only makes him want to try it more. He sits at the edge of the leather settee, grabbing the card that's on the table, cutting the coke until it's thin enough to be consumed, he shapes a thin line of coke with the sharp edges of the red credit card and from his wallet, he grabs a bill and rolls it up with his index and thumb carefully. With the edge of the bill on his nostril and the other on the platter, he shuts his eyes tightly as he inhales the coke fast hoping it would make it more bearable because all he knew was that it stung like hell but inhaling it fast didn't change anything for him, his eyes flash before him, his brain quickly reacting with the thin line of coke, and he feels the burning sensation on his nostrils, sneezing as a reflex to try to expel the coke that was still stuck on the walls of his nose.

"Fuck!" His nose burns and stings, some coke falling on your upper thigh, you break into laughter, he was trying hard to impress you, that's what you thought, the girl laughs at him and your head feels dizzy, you feel an ache for him that's burning as he frowns.

"If you're gonna do it, at least do it right," He slams your hand away as you try to comfort him, he throws his straw away and sits closer to you, he leans down, and holds your knee tightly, his fingernails digging holes in your thighs, your hairs feel the same electricity that he felt in the car when you sat on him, shamelessly sitting open legged on his knee, his eyes penetrate yours as he snorts the remaining coke off your thigh, you feel something inside you turn on as you feel his nose on your inner thigh, his lips lightly grazing your knickers.

"I said goddamn" You lock in a stare, you wanted him, and you wanted him bad, your hand sneaks to the back of his head and he drags your mouth to his, his thumb lightly caressing your cheek as you both get carried away with the intensity of the kiss mixing with the drugs and the booze his touches feel like electric shocks, the fire runs all over your body as his hand caresses your thigh, his fingers digging on the edge of your denim skirt, his mouth tastes like sweet vodka and pop, his tongue inside your mouth tasting the flavors of your cherry cigarettes and Bacardi, sweet and sour, like lemon and honey, you roll your eyes as you feel him sigh inside your mouth, his hand making a fist with your skirt, he wanted more but he was still afraid to do more, he wanted to do it all in private, so he tested himself with you.

As he was pulling away from the kiss, you bit his lower lip pulling it harshly like a blister, and his cheeks were burning hot, his head was dizzy but he took your hand, he felt high, and his body was on the dancefloor with yours but his mind was focused on the neon lights on your face painting you all the colors, violet, blue and green as he sees your head spin in circles. His hands creep into your hips, and he slowly pulls you in, watching you dance with no care, no shame, you knew you made him mad with the way your silver eyeshadow made your eyes look like bright stars in the night sky. You both dance to Dr. Dre in a trance, slow, close, and sexy, he turns your back against his chest with a spin, he is getting greedy, and you feel it as your brains get stimulated with the white powder. Your hips go around in circles against his crotch as the music makes your body move in a way that gets him so uncomfortably hard, but he didn't feel it until you sighed against his ear, his hands grip your hips harder, lightly humping your ass against him, you giggle as you both sing.

You see it clearly in his eyes, he wants more, "Don't you wanna go somewhere else... tha knows, alone?" He suggests into your ear, you take a deep breath as you smell his sweet cologne, you wanted to be smothered in that scent, but it wasn't going to be easy for him.

"And do what?" He's dumbfounded, he doesn't know how to phrase how badly he wanted to fuck you now, "You think is that easy? That I'm just gonna fall to me knees over the rockstar?" Your lips were next to his ear, and his nose could smell the coconut shampoo on your silky hair, "No way babe" He sighed and closed his eyes just for a second, and then you disappeared in thin air, walking out the door. He tried to go after you, but he got surrounded by the band and some other man wearing dressing shirts and jeans with Stella's in their hands, he makes up dumb excuses to free himself from whatever they were trying to talk about.

As he goes out through the exit door, he finds you yet again with the same bouncer, this time with one of his hands on your cheek and the other on your hip, and he doesn't even reason out his next action, Alex had punched the bouncer in the jaw as hard as he could, he only manages to make his head turn, and as the man was about to return the punch with twice if the speed and twice of the strength you're able to push him away and knock him to the floor grabbing Alex's hand running down the streets like a cheetah, the cold wind blowing your hair and making your nose dry, you have so much energy you could do anything, move mountains, climb the tallest building. You are pure fuel, you turn to your left as you hear his laughter, he catches up to you, grabbing your hand tightly as you run down the street, looking for nothing but the feeling of your heart about to bust, for the pain of your lower abdomen. 

Thankfully Alex had Andy's car keys, using the van as the perfect place to hide from the angry bounce with a purple jaw searching for you both, "He even has muscles in his muscles" You joke as you both peek through the windows, finally, you're able to breathe when he starts heading his way back where he came from. You both sigh relieved and crash on the leather car seats, you turn to look at Al and ask, "How do you feel Al?" 'Al' he smiles, it's been a long time since you called him like that.

"Still high" He sniffs his nose and looks at you, you're smiling, biting your bottom lip, the light of lamppost reflecting on your eyes through a crack in the windows, your eyes deep blue looking at him with hunger, "What about you?" He drawls.

"I left me head at the dance floor" You giggle, sitting closer to him, the knuckles of his hand touching yours, lips getting drawn to each other, his eyes staring intensely at yours.

"I wanted to keep dancin' with you... you've got some pretty nice moves" Your eyebrows jump as you give him a look that hypnotized him, he was taken by surprise as you threw your leg over his thighs, straddling him and rocking your hips against his just like the way you were dancing before, you teased him, still vigorously grinding your hips against him, singing bits of the song to his ear as you bite his earlobe, feeling his dick fighting his way on his jeans, "Like that?" You tease watching him watching you in awe.

"Uhu..." His heart was about to beat out from his chest, "Fuckin' hell Mardy, you're so hot" His so pissed about it, he's lost his mind, such a fool for you it makes him pull his hair.

"Just shut up and kiss me" The palm of your hand drives his head towards you, and you both kiss slowly, eagerly, lingeringly as your lips close around each other's mouth, feeling your body slowly grind against him, getting closer to the place where he ached for you. The roughness of his denim made juicy friction in your pussy, you kept losing control over yourself, dry humping Alex's crotch, his hands dragging your hips against him following your pace to show you how much he liked feeling you rubbing yourself against him. You were flushed, feeling hotter, his hands made into fists, clenching your skirt, slowly riding up to your waist, he was doubtful but as he watched you get so deep in it his hands grip your ass hard, and you whimpered into his ear, all the sounds coming out of your mouth made him get so hard in his jeans that his head was already leaking.

"I want you so badly" He groans into your ear, licking his lips and holding your head in place to whisper more into your ear, "You feel amazin' babe, make yerself feel good" You smile against his hair, taking a sniff of his soft brown hair, you nuzzled your nose into his neck, leaving kisses all over him. He began to feel self-conscious about the fact he was barely even moving, he wasn't moving a single finger now when at the party he was begging for your attention, he chose to not be like those other blocks, they didn't know what was before their eyes, they didn't know you, they didn't know how much beauty there is inside of you, your black beauty.

His hand on your ass crawls to your lower back, caressing your skin with his thumb, his hands crawling up your back like spiders and snakes, and he leaves his hand on the clasp of your bra, your eyes illuminating, "Can I?" He whispers, his voice shaky and his eyes sparkling, hopelessly looking for an answer in your eyes.

"If you want to... yeah, you don't have to ask me Al" You peck Alex's lips, sweetly, the heat wasn't the only thing that drove you to be all over him.

"How far do you wanna take this, Mardy?" His voice sounds serious, both panting for air but if he were to pass out, he would love to pass out feeling your heavenly lips. Alex saw you for once stay quiet, with no answers, no smart comeback, your eyes shine, and your heart feels that vague feeling of warmth, and tenderness. For once, you doubted having sex with a hot fellow outside of a pub, you didn't feel anything, not for long, you feared Alex would change that, you were able to fight the feeling though, you convinced yourself he wouldn't.

"Take my clothes off" You command, Alex following like a puppy with his swollen lips in a pout and his bright eyes, his fingers running down your warm skin with care, pulling off your shirt from your head, you stand on your knees, his lips sigh against your skin, his hands caressing your lower back gently, running shivers all over your body as he kisses your belly slowly, wet, and needy, his tongue running through your belly butting ring, his hands quickly sliding down your skirt and throwing it to the ground, leaving you in your tights and brazier. Your eyes meet, his eyes shining so brightly at the look of yours, he saw you as a miracle for all men, as an angel as you exposed your body to him, and you couldn't handle that, "Don't look at me like that, I know you wanna fuck me" He's a man, he only loves these things because he loves to see them break, he would forget about you the next day and nothing could stop you from thinking this way, even if it hurt you.

He was in a daze as if you had kicked him hard in the head, your body on his, warm and sugary, addictive, "And so fuckin' bad" His mouth devours your lips, his tongue slipping to the back of your throat, you gag but he keeps his tongue inside your mouth, his hands grip your bottom tightly, continuing with the same pace as before. He takes out his shirt in the blink of an eye, barely giving you time to grab air as you asphyxiate in his kisses pressing you closer to him as he grinds your hips harder against the bulge in his denim jeans hearing you moaning louder into his mouth. The tiny kisses he gave you in your belly still lingering in your head, the song and his facial expressions as he moaned into the microphone engraved in your head, his touch so rough but with care, his eyes watching you like a goddess, you look through the window, and watch yourself climax with just a little bit of friction. He feels rewarded, he feels your body relaxing, and you're satisfied but it isn't enough.

Your hands run through his bristly skin, his chest dripping sweat, his abs marked with thin lines, and his v-line drives you to kneel, and unclamp the buttons of his jeans, "You got me off, now's your turn, is that ok?" You teased, making Alex roll his eyes with a smile, you caress his cock with your fingers, just to let it get harder than he was, he looks at you with lust, as you cheekily smile at the sight and feel of the size of his cock, "Fuck" He came in a full-size package.

"Come here" And baffled you were, how was he able to carry that in his jeans? His tip leaking cum already, red almost turning purple, swollen and hot, fat. You couldn't wait any longer for him, you obliged and settled on his lap. His hands caressed your body with care, he could give you true affection, "I like you Mardy... I really fuckin' do, I can't get you out of me head, out of my veins or me brain... every time I see you-"

"Don't say anything else, Alex, please" It was the first time you begged for anything in your life, because if what he was saying was true, his words made your heart beat fast, and it felt as if you were about to die.

"Don't do that Mardy, don't do this to me either... I'm in for the long run, don't matter how long I have to wait" In his eyes, you saw the raw definition of honesty, he wasn't looking anywhere else, wasn't hesitating, he was being truthful.

"Don't make promises that you can't keep Alex, nothing lasts forever" Your words don't affect him anymore, his mind was hazy with love and true desire for more than just sex, for more than just your body, he wanted your heart, a connection he couldn't get from anyone else but you.

"I never do," He says, "So just kiss me, and forget about anything else" His lips peck yours hard, needy, angsty, and his hands grip your body tightly, pulling your tights off your body, breaking them in the process and he feels your nude skin with his rough hands. He feels struck by lightning as he pushes your panties to the side and enters you slowly, your nails dig into his skin, and you gasp into his mouth feeling your whole body get loose, and your mind in a daze, just enjoying the feeling of his body so close to yours.

Your hips rock against his, your whole body pressed against him, his hands kneading your tits, pinching them and kissing them as you ride his cock, his hands pull your body closer to him, not for one second does he want you to be far from him, you couldn't hold in your moaning, his sighs and moans put you in a spell, his magical eyes sparkled into yours as he watched his whole dick disappear in between your legs.

"Ah! Shit" His hands were on your hips, they rock your body against him, Alex's mouth fell agape as you kept riding his cock eagerly, his hands gripping your ass tightly.

"Do you like that, baby? Do I make you feel good?" His eyes roll back, gulping and moaning against your lips, "Tell me Alex" Your hands around his neck, as you ride him slowly, tentatively.

"You do Mardy... you're so wet... t-tight" Your tongue inside his mouth as you kiss him, his cheeks warm and his breathing stuck in his throat.

"I bet you feel accomplished...." He blushes harder, being caught red-handed, "I've seen you Alex... looking at me, searching to see what color were me knickers, or what bra was I wearing"

"Can't blame it, you always know how to rock me world" You lean over to his ear, your motion decreases into barely any, and you lick your lips before you whisper.

"Imagine how hard can we rock your bed" He blushes as you began to jump on his cock, your tits jiggling and he's hypnotized by them, by the way you scream, and how your pussy feels. He's whimpering at just the sight of you. He grabs your waist tighter and makes you jump faster on his cock, feeling you get closer to an end, his thumb, flicking your clit until your burst all over him, he pants as your head falls on his shoulder.

"You love to tease me, don't you?" He leans over you, making you lie down on the seats, his hands grab your thighs wrapping them around his hips, you always liked how he always had to caress your skin, he couldn't help it, he loved feeling your body on his.

"Can't say I don't" You whisper to his lips, his hips increase his thrusts gradually rocking your bodies together, watching your collarbones sink as you try to catch your breath.

"You fuckin' cunt" You gasp as he buries himself inside you, "You've been teasing me all of this fucking time?" You sigh as his fingers tangle in your hair, his hips slowly thrusting inside you, it feels like ecstasy, all over your body, his eyes turning into darkness and lust.

"I always do" You giggled, he grabbed your wrists tightly, pinning them above your head, you were caught off guard, suddenly feeling like you had no control over him, he had control over you and you were enjoying it, watching him get affected by simple words, deep confessions, this night had changed your view on Alex for the better.

You stared into his coffee brown eyes, the shy boy that you once knew was all a costume, what he is beneath that, is what you like, "I'm gunna fuck your brains out" His cock feels so good inside you, feels thick, feels right, the friction and the pain of the stretching. It all feels too fucking good, you kept your eyes wide open as you both watch each other's faces, in your eyes there was a heavy secret, one that Alex was breaking into, you were a sucker for him, all you wanted was for him to fight more for you. And finally, he had taken power over your body.

He was balls deep inside you, watching you get aroused by the sounds of his moves, he kept thrusting inside you so fast that the car was rocking back and forward. He let go of your wrist to pin them both together with his other hand, his hand pressed against the window. He sends you spiraling down to a whole other world, you've never felt such way, his hands fall to your neck and you're finally able to dig your fingers into his back, you were a loud mess, out of control. He was mercilessly fucking your pussy, so deliciously buried inside you.

"Al... I can't hold it in," You screamed as he slammed himself back inside you, your fingers rubbing your clit so fast, your walls tightening, he groans, his grip on your neck tighter.

"Yeh fuckin' dirty cunt," He flips your leg to the side so he could have a better look at your bum, he was feeling aroused at the sound of your sss slapping against his hips, he took advantage to slap it hard making you moan harder, Andy's van rocking to Alex's pace, squeaking, bouncing.

Your vision was foggy. Alex enjoyed watching your eyeballs turn white and your mouth wide open, he couldn't take it any longer as well. He got so carried away with the sight of your body, your nipples hard, your pink lips, and your red raw pussy, your heat feels so good, he takes one last feel of it, making sure you came one last time before he pulled out fast enough to spill his cum on your belly, your eyes widened at the sight of his pink tip squirting out his cum as he fucks his fist, you saw his face in a frown, his forehead dripping in a cold sweat, and a last sigh of satisfaction falls from his mouth to yours.

"Fuckin' hell" You whisper, grabbing his attention, his hand lets go of the window to caress your hair and pour all of his love on a kiss to your lips, it feels like flowers blooming under that warm sun, it feels like hot cocoa on a cold December day, it feels like firecrackers, it feels like new year's countdown, it feels like it was meant to be, and for once, you let go and feel the love on his lips for a minute or two, you give it back with the same intensity, and he feels no longer frightened about anything. If he had you, he didn't need anything else.

"Mardy, I meant everything I said" You sigh.

"About me being a dirty fucking cunt?" You both crack in laughter, his arms pull you to his chest, and you lay on his arms like a baby, you let him hold you like that because you miss being held like this, you've never experienced anything like this, but deep down you know, love wears out, it dies, flowers rot, the firecrackers are thrown to the streets, summer ends, hot coco burns your tongue, and he will leave you soon. Alex sees you so deep in thought.

"What are you thinking about?" He says, too worried about everything, now that reality had settled in.

"I wonder how long it will take before you leave me" His eyes filled with sadness, he couldn't believe how you still thought about that, "We shagged, we did what we did, I'm just counting the seconds before we get out of this car and you forget about me" You move away from him, taking your clothes and warmth  from the floor and quickly dressing yourself up again. He was still in one piece. He looks at you with sullen eyes.

"It meant nothing to you?" He says with sadness pulling up his clothes.

"What is it supposed to mean, Alex?" He felt his heart being stung, a knife being twisted to his core.

"That I love you," He says with no remorse, you pull away, quickly getting out of the car, and he follows you at a fast pace as you begin to walk around the dark, he leaves everything else behind, "Where are you going, Mardy?!"

You feel like puking out your heart, you were looking for a place to hide, anywhere, any place at all. You looked and you looked as he kept screaming your name, "Why are you running away from me?!" He grabs your arm tightly.

"Don't you get it?" You snatch back your arm, "Why did you say that to me? How could you say that to me?" Your voice cracks as you look at him in the eyes, he slowly steps closer to you, how could he break something that was already torn to pieces?

"Because I do... because I truly do love you-"

"You don't mean that" He takes a step closer to you very slowly, watching your eyes water, and you pull away from him step by step, your untied shoelaces make you fall to the ground in a very stupid way that you crack into crying laughter for how pathetic you feel.

Alex sees your true colors for once, but he isn't afraid of what he sees, he's in love with what he sees, and so in love that it hurts so deeply to see you in such a state, "Love..."

"Don't call me like that" You say in between laughter, "I'm not your mardy, not your babe, I'm not anything to you" You spit.

He sits on the ground next to you, "You're everything to me" You roll your eyes, feeling your throat tighten, "I love you, I told you I do, it's all I've ever felt-"

You answer back, "I'm not everything, I'm just a catchy chorus in a 2-minute song Alex" He sits closer to you, watching you get out from your skirt your cigarette, and your lighter, feeling the warm embrace of the tabaco in the air.

"You're in every song I write, Mardy, I did one specifically called Mardy Bum... so you might understand how I feel about you," You look at him with an eyebrow up.

"Mardy Bum?" He smiles and nods his head, "That's a more personal one" You say with no emotion, you look into his eyes, and you see the truth in them, but you're too scared of giving into it, to give into him.

"And there are many more to come, but you're no 2-minute song and a catchy chorus, you're more than that, you've always been more than that" Alex's words couldn't have cut any deeper than any blade or any drug you've ever taken.

"There's so much you don't know about me" He grabs your hand, the one with the thick bracelet, and he holds it so tightly and kisses the back of your hand with care.

"I wanna know everything," His fingertips run through your braids, and your head falls to his shoulder.

"And what if you find out everything and you think I'm too fucked up? Why don't you just go with a fitter and healthier girl, huh?" His fingertips grace your chin, and he looks at you with his deep brown eyes and pecks your lips.

"Because they're not you" You stare into his eyes and you kiss him with the same love he did inside the car, you hadn't noticed how you were out of there, and he still followed you, he has always followed you.

There was a moment of pure silence after the kiss, you lay on his lap, curled up into a ball, feeling his soft hands caress your hair, you feel everything you once felt a long time ago, it's vague, but he makes it come alive again as he hums a sweet melody, "Well now then Mardy bum.... I've seen you frown and it's like looking down the barrel of a gun and it goes off... and out come all these words... oh, there's a very pleasant side of you, a side I much prefer, it's one that... laugh and jokes around... remember cuddles in the kitchen... yeah, to get things off the ground and it's up, up and away... oh, buts it's right hard to remember on a day like today when you're... argumentative and you've got that face on"

You pick yourself up from his lap to look at him with your glassy eyes, tears rolling down your cheeks, "Can I hear the full song when we get back home?" His thumb grazes your cheek, whipping down your tear.

"Of course, my love" His arm around your neck, kissing the back of your head, he turns you to lay your head on his arm.

"Do you really want to be with me, Al?" He smiles as he sees a door opening for him, he sighs feeling relieved you weren't arguing away with him.

"Yes, and so badly" He smiles, and giggles, "You won't get me to go, not anywhere" It feels good to hear that assurance from his lips, "Not anywhere"

"Good, because... I think... I love you too" Maybe it was too quick to say it but you didn't care, he sounded promising, and what else have you got to lose anyway? Maybe it was time for you to take a chance, let faith lead you blindly, maybe it was time to give in to him.

"Oh fuckin' hell, I was so scared you wouldn't say it back" You laugh, Alex enjoying the sound of your rich laughter, feeling excited about the thought of his clumsy words being the reason of that smile.

On the way back home, you were sat on Alex's lap willingly, your head on his shoulder, his arms around your waist, Maggy and Matt were stunned at the sight of you and Alex, you could feel their gaze on you as Alex covered your cold body with his denim jacket. Everyone tried to leash the lioness inside you, but he took a different approach that made him worthy of sticking around in your lonely cage.

A/N

Hi, missed me?

Happy Valentine's ! <3 

Still busy studying for my SATs :c