#you're either in the smoke club or you're out

[beef-brisket]

((How didn't I know you responded to this!? That's a criminal act, Tumblr!!

If you're completely over this, feel free to ignore it. it has been a while lol))

(Tw: Drug abuse, sa, Val))

Adam staggered into the clubs bathroom. His head was pounding. He's been dancing for nearly six hours, and he felt worse than dead.

His leather outfit felt suffocating. He tried to readjust it, but it wouldn't budge much.

He leaned against the bench and rubbed his face. He didn't dare look in the mirror. He knew he looked like shit. He's looked like shit since he resigned that contract.

Turns out it wasn't six months. It was indefinite. Until Val either got bored or Adam loses money. Thankfully, Adam is more than profitable. Unfortunately, he also has Valentino's constant attention.

Adam tensed when he heard the bathroom door open, and heels clicked towards him. He knew who it was. He could smell his smoke before he even heard him.

Val: Addy~. Baby~. What are you doing back here? You should be on that pole, making daddy money~.

Adam winced as he felt Vals hand on his waist and the other on his jaw, turning his head to face him.

Val: You look tired, baby. Need a little top up?

Adam hated it. He hated that he needed it. He nodded, almost desperate.

Val: Ask Daddy. Ask Daddy nicely~. What do you need, baby~?

Adam swallowed, his throat dry: D-Dust, please Daddy...

Val: Dust? Good boy~. Finally, having another hit of the hard stuff? Alright, sweetheart.

Adam's mouth started watering as Val pulled a little baggie of pills out of his top. Adam went to reach for them, but Val grabbed his wrist.

Val: Let me help you, baby. Open~.

Adam was shaking. He was so close to having what his body craved. He opened his mouth, Val pulled him closer and tipped the baggie into his mouth.

He felt discomfort as Val's fingers pressed into his jaw, telling him not to swallow. He watched as Val slowly brought a beer over to him and slowly poured it in his mouth, Adam quickly swallowed everything.

Val: Gorgeous~. Now, get back out there.

Adam was able to close his mouth, and he made to leave, but he was stopped as a pink chain formed around his neck. He closed his eyes as he was pulled towards Valentino.

Val: Say thank you, baby~.

Adam did his best to appear more than willing. It was an act he was more than used to. He pressed his lips against Val's. His tongue was instantly forced into Adam's mouth, and his saliva made Adam moan. He hates how it makes him feel, but he can't help it.

Val pulled away and licked Adam's jawline.

Val: Very good~. Love ya, baby~.

Adam: Love you too, Daddy.

Adam kissed Val's cheek and made his way out of the bathroom, his legs felt like they were going to collapse, his heels were killing him.

When we walked back into the club, patrons whistled and called him over. Adam smiled and did what he did best, act like he was fine when he was dying inside.

Morning or evening! Depending on where you are lol

I've got an au for you! I'm at work at the moment, so I'm sorry if this is all over the place lol

We're over the drama and moving on lol

So this is an official ask about our new fluffydemon!Adam au! My names literally suck so please change it if you think of something better. It's so early where I am, my brain is lowkey fried- but I'm trying 💀

So, it takes place after Adam dies in episode 8 (I think that's the last episode?) And he respawns in Hell, but in another Ring. I've never seen Halluva Boss, so I'm not sure which Ring would be better? Lust, Greed or Wrath? Maybe Lust? Or Wrath. Adam as pretty angry for a while (not that it matters to the story 🤷).

I don't know if Helluva or Hazbin have actually shown demons in an episode? I personally wouldn't count sinners as demons, even though I've heard them be referred to as demons. But for this, demons aren't really a thing, so Adam would be the first Demon.

He's not technically Hellborn. He can't die of old age like a Hellborn, but if he gets hurt and dies, he will come back after regenerating, like a sinner.

So, I guess you could say he's a mixture of Hellborn and sinner, and because of that, he can travel between Rings.

He's definitely made a name for himself in Lust and Greed (I know there's other Rings, I just don't have any ideas for them? If you do, please add them in! It'll be super interesting!)

His first big thing was being a singer/ performer in Greed, doing some shows for Mammon, where he got extremely popular. He even started doing some work for Ozzy- we both know what type of work 👀

I'm thinking where our rp picks up with be 10-15 years after he died in Hell, so you know, a good chunk of time. Adam is really popular in a few different Rings, but this'll be his first time back in Pride.

He's doing sex work for his manager back in Lust, who got him a temporary contract with Val- it's only ment to be six months but Val being Val basically manipulates Adam, and makes him dependent on him. So he actually manages to get Adam into a full contract.

I'm adding bits of another au I've told you about, just because their basically the same thing. So this one will be merging with the fliffywhore!au- where Adam is basically like Angel Dust. So, I'll attach some screenshots of my ask to help the story along (and to stop my thumb from cramping 💀)

Now, I'm a tad suspicious as to why my screenshots where so recent in my gallery so I have a feeling I might have already sent them to you? Actually, now that I'm really thinking about it, I sent this to you not long ago... well. My memory is completely shot 💀

ANYWAY. This is the official story guideline, ignore everything else I've ever sent to you 😅

I'm definitely not embarrassed 💀

Feel free to start us off for a rp if you'd like- it can be from any point that interests you! If you'd like me to start one, just shout out lol

I'd love to hear any ideas you have for this one, i think I've included some of the ideas we discussed a few days ago, so yeah 😝

His manager down in Lust is going to be pissed, but there are just so many more clients here and Adam was going to be making double the money.

A little longer with this Val guy couldn't hurt.

Val: You won't regret it. What's another six months?

Adam looked at the contract carefully, he knew people were shady and would word things very carefully to get exactly what they want.

Adam: Only six more months?

Val: Yes! I promise you'll do great you already have.~

Adam wrinkled his nose, this guy was gross but he paid well. He signed his name in the contract.

Worst thing he could have done.

[rockrosethistle]

"The Church of The Starry Children" this "The Abominable Tome" that. we all know the real cult in Hatchetfield is Smoke Club

[doublestandardlove]

my headcanons about the smoke club bc i'm bored

first of all, the club's members:

danny, sof, and deb obv

alice is an honorary member due to being deb's gf, but she doesn't normally smoke with them unless she's real stressed

ziggs was a member before they graduated

ethan was for a while, but left after lex got caught for dealing to the club

ofc lex was an honorary member bc she never actually hung out unless she was dealing. she's not much of a social smoker

steph, obv bc she's not a fucking loser and she was cool enough to hang with the seniors back then. she's still in it as of npmd, but it's less frequent

max, bc he's not a loser either, but he's usually too busy to make it to most meetings

ALSO slightly unrelated headcanon, but max and steph joined the smoke club sophomore year and were really close until they drifted apart a bit the summer of senior year

anywayss these are my headcanons, it's okay if you don't agree, sounds like a skill issue /hj ;)

[abstinencecampveteran]

anyone else tempted to join the smoke club just bc the dealer is cute AF. no. just me. okay

[raayllum]

bc @kradogsrats spoke it into existence and i'll never say no to a character being forced to make a terrible / difficult choice of what regrets they're willing to live with. tw for violence + mentioned forced amputation

The seas are choppier when they set sail, this time, a barrel of 'fresh' dark magic parts go spilling overboard when the crew is talking too excitedly about their new captives—Finnegrin curses and crushes one of the stray snake rattle tails that survived, just out of principle.

(He takes one and places it into his pocket for later, but is far more reluctant to take it out; he doesn't.)

His worse than usual mood sets Elmer on edge, and so when the Moonshadow elf girl gets rowdy, he backhands her in favour of picking her up. The smack echoes, the boy growling as he forces himself to his feet, lunging with an arms literally tied behind his back, but then Elmer is gripping her, forcing her to sit back down with a reddened cheek.

(She is dazed enough not to bite and slip the sliver of wood between her teeth.)

And here is how it goes.

"What's wrong with you people?" Finnegrin demands, and incredulous, Callum notes with a hint of satisfaction. "You bunch of barnacle brains all want to lose your hands?"

"I do not understand," Elmer says, voice deep and confused. "A hand will take weeks to regrow."

"No, buddy," Soren corrects. "It'll take way longer than that."

"See?" Callum staggers to his feet, heart beating fast—but confident, proud. They can win this. They can beat him. And until they do, he won't break them. "So long as we protect each other, so long as we love each other, you can never control us."

But Finnegrin doesn't turn back the way Callum thought he would, moving closer to the others still on their knees. "Charming," the pirate remarks, circling closer like a shark. The knife is clasped in one hand. "Really tugging on my heartstrings. Think I feel a good cry coming on."

He twirls the knife almost teasingly above Rayla's head as he walks on by, and Callum's stomach clenches.

"Love is the key to strength, hm? But no two loves are the same. I would know." Finnegrin stops walking behind Ezran, gave heavy and thoughtful and smug. His little brother looks even tinier in comparison. "Let's see which one you love the least."

"No—" Callum gasps, as the blade comes close, far too close to Ezran's throat. "You said the hand—"

"It's okay, Callum," Ezran says with the world's tiniest smile, but he's trembling. Putting on a brave face.

"Oh I meant it," Finnegrin says, waving the knife back over to Rayla almost experimentally. It goes against every instinct, but Callum tries to school his expression into something neutral. If he just gives nothing away, everyone will make it out alive, unscathed.

He can't show any sign of preference. He can't show any sign of worry.

He swallows hard, trying to remain impassive—stoic, neutral—as Finnegrin walks over to Villads and Soren, and it's easier, to stay calm. It's easier, and he hates that it is, but it is. Finnegrin frowns slightly, musing, examining Soren and Villads, and then his eyes fixate on Ezran.

"Everyone has a soft spot for the young ones, hm? Doesn't the king of Katolis have a brother? Bet he won't be pleased with you—"

"No!" Rayla juts her arms out in front of Ezran again. "Take my hand—"

Ezran tries to nudge her away, the welt on her cheek a bright red, but she's always been stronger than him. "Rayla, no—I'm the one who—"

"Deadwood, hold them both down," Finnegrin orders after a moment. The wooden giant goes to comply. "If the boy won't make a choice, and these two are so eager, we'll simply fulfil both their wishes."

Deadwood uses one hand to hold both of them in place on their knees, squirming and arms extended plainly, shoulders squeezed too tight for them to jerk around. The panic and anxiety roars to life like a tidal wave, Callum drowning in it as the knife hovers over Ezran's small slim wrist, the blade glinting, waiting, being brought back, and then—

"Wait!" Callum shouts.

The knife stops. Finnegrin straightens up, lips peeling back in a smirk.

Ezran looks at him with wide, fearful eyes, but Rayla is glaring like she already knows—or like she's asking, ordering for him to pick her over his brother, but Callum couldn't let her lose a hand when they were children and he still can't now.

He bows his head and then raises it slowly, because well—"I'll make a choice," he rasps, hating himself for it.

The easy one would be Villads, because he is a stranger and Callum will never see him again after this, but he is a stranger and didn't know what he was getting himself wrapped up in, and—

All he knows is that it can't be Ezran or Rayla.

When he looks up, Soren is already looking up at him, tears in his eyes and a deadened smile on his lips. Because Soren knows.

Soren has always known.

"Soren," Callum says at last. His eyes slide shut like the swinging of a death knell, opening back up in time as Soren raises a trembling hand to identify himself.

To his credit, the crownguard only screams a little as Finnegrin saws his hand off, and then binds the bloody stump poorly with a handkerchief. Rayla keeps Ezran held to her front to shield him from it.

Callum makes himself watch.

It's his first of many apologies.

[slasherscream]

my girl can wear whatever she wants tiers please for crazy ass boys gang!!!

CRAZY ASS BOYS GANG + MY GIRL CAN WEAR WHATEVER SHE WANTS TIERS

❥ my girl can wear whatever she want cause I can fight ❥

Billy Loomis - When you look particularly good his arm might as well be glued to your waist. He's both possessive and protective. He hates the way everyone's eyes devour you, but can't help how prideful it makes him either. Yeah, you want her. Of course you want her. Everyone does. But only I have her. God help the idiot that's stupid enough to open their mouth and not just look.

Jordan Li - They love watching you put your outfits together. They make suggestions from your bed, glancing up at you every few minutes. They can't help it. Their eyes are drawn to you permanently. No matter how crowded the room they can find you in a second. Whenever there's a party Jordan loves watching everyone try to sneak quick glances at you. They jump like rabbits when they wind up meeting Jordan's eyes and watch that smile that Jordan only wears around you fall back into the usual scowl. No one wants to be caught staring at Jordan's girl.

Arvin Russell - It's not possible for you to feel fear in public when you're with Arvin. You could be wearing straight lingerie in the most dangerous city in the world at 2 am and be safe. He's not just ready to protect you but hungry for it. Every time he proves he'll fight till his knuckles are bloody and bruised over you he watches you walk a little more confidently. Shine a little brighter. Knowing that he's there to protect you has only made you more yourself every day. And Arvin? He's obsessed with the transformation that the safety net of his fierce protection has ignited within you.

Jason Dean/JD - You wish he'd only fight people over what you're wearing. Unfortunately, this is not the case. JD pulls out a gun. Not every time, granted. Just a large majority of the time. In his defense, how is he supposed to act when someone has the audacity to cat call you? Do you expect him to just watch and not care as you experience that brief shiver of fear that runs up your spine when a man whistles at you before following it up with even more salacious words? If you feel fear, he'll make them feel fear. Simple.

Sparrow!Ben Hargreeves - If someone is stupid enough to not recognize him before they say anything to you about what you're wearing they will quickly recognize the tentacle wrapped around their throat. "Apologize." He hisses through gritted teeth, increasing the pressure, knowing just how much strength he can use before it would break their neck. How he ever expects anyone to apologize to you with a giant tentacle wrapped around their wind pipe you don't know. This is the second time this month. You're running out of night clubs you're not banned from.

David Mccall - You walk out of the house with the confidence that only someone who's done 12 tours over seas should have. But no, you just have a boyfriend who is incredibly scary. You've watched him almost break a man's hand for brushing it against yours at a crowded bar while he reached for his drink. You don't even think before you throw on an outfit anymore.

❥ my girl can wear whatever she want because she a hoe and I knew that before we started dating ❥

Josh Washington - Could he fuck someone up if needed? Yes, but he feels no need to. As long as you're not in danger or being disrespected Josh loves the way you express yourself through your look. You're hot and beautiful, of course you wear stuff that's short or tight, or both. If he looked like you he'd do the same thing. People don't usually say anything to you anyways, since he's always pressed to you like a second skin. He's not a jealous guy, but he is a chronic clinger.

Stu Macher - Is probably the person wolf whistling you in the first place. Points at you from across the room when you're talking to other people and says, "That's my girl right there. She's smoking, right?" He will always be smug he pulled you and NEVER shut up about it. The more wild you dress the more smug he gets. People can look all they want. But you only want him. What's there not to brag about?

Kevin Khatchadourian - Kevin above anyone else would thoroughly understand your psyche before dating you. He's involved with you because, somehow, you intrigued him against all odds. He already expected and predicted with near perfect accuracy every step of the relationship. Skimpy outfits are not throwing him. Can he fight? Yes. But, frankly, if someone pisses him off by hitting on you swinging on them is not gonna satisfy him. He's more of a "put their fingerprints at a crime scene so their life is ruined" type of get back. If he decides not to kill them.

Sebastian Valmont - Sebastian is the one buying you more hoe clothes. He loves your style and is not insecure. If either of you wanted someone else, you could go get them. But you two were practically made for each other. He wants to show you off. Is never going to be the type to try and dull your shine. He wants to walk into a room with you and have jaws drop from the deadly combination of the way you look together. He thrives off of seeing how much people want you. Knowing how futile it is. How hopeless. He pulls you tight into his side and grins like the devil himself (also, and this knowledge is of utmost importance, he cannot fight for shit.)

❥ my girl can wear whatever she want cus I’m scared of her ❥

Nathan Prescott - Is possessive, jealous and insecure enough to absolutely want you to change what you're wearing. With anyone else he'd even be bold enough to tell them to change. You are not anyone else, though. You are you. Considering every other behavior you tolerate from Nathan on a monthly, weekly, daily, and hourly basis you would snap on him like a twig if he tried to bring one more red flag on board. He knows this. You know this. When you slide on your low rise jeans and the tiniest crop top known to man, you make eye contact with one another in the mirror. He looks away first. You go back to peacefully fixing up your hair. Upside, no one is crazy enough to actually hit on you when you're at parties held on campus together. Which means Nathan won't have the cops called on him. Hooray!

[mywritersmind]

DROWN IT OUT - LN4

summary : a very drunken night makes for some very drunken mistakes.

listen up : dirty jokes. kissing. lando norris x zakbrownsdaughter!reader. sort of toxic reader.

word count : 1205

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I laugh as my friends and I walk through the club, getting to skip the line (thank you mick my favorite bouncer!). I pull my little black dress down, holding my friend's hand tightly as we maneuver through the crowd.

I grin even wider when I see Oscar and Franco, standing with drinks in their hands while talking. “Blue and Orange! My favs!” They turn me, wondering who’s screaming at them.

“Ay! Y/n!” Franco hugs me, clearly tipsy and even louder than usual, “You're here!”

Oscar laughs at Franco before messing up my hair, “Hey! Have you seen Lily?” I shake my head.

“I’d be with her if I saw her here! Better than you two.” I take Franco’s drink from his hand, tasting it before coughing, “Freak!”

“Uncultured!” He yells back at me as I shake my head and make my way to the bar, ordering my first drink of many.

Once my friends find me again, my night seems to blur a bit. I’m dancing with them, then some guy, then Franco?

“Got an audience, Y/n.” He whispers in my ear, his hands on my arms. I look to where he’s pointing to and silently swear to myself.

Lando Norris takes no measures to pretend he’s not staring at me. I raise a brow and he raises his glass. Franco shivers next to me, “I could cut the tension with a knife!” I shake my head, grabbing Franco’s hand and pulling him out of sight from Lando.

I find my friends who are with Oscar and Lily. I scream and hug the girl as he giggles. I sip my drink while throwing my hands up in the air, twirling around to the music.

The club is stuffy and loud, the smell of smoke all around us. I jump in my heels because the alcohol in my system is numbing my feet pain. I flip my hair back so it’s out of my face, wishing I had a hair tie.

I continue to dance, swinging my hips and singing alone before I back up into someone. His hands are on my hips in an instant to stop me from falling further, “Brown.” he leans down to whisper it in my ear as my back is still facing him.

My eyes widen, I turn around quickly before crossing my arms, Lando’s hands leaving me for his pockets, “Norris.”

“You look really good.” I ignore the slight smile that forces its way onto my lips and focus on his voice instead.

I look him up and down, the all black doing something to me that I can’t explain… I bite my lip and look up at him, “You too. Great race today.”

We’re in Austin and the clench of his jaw tells me everything I need to know, “You’re funny.” he deadpans.

“So I've been told!” I smile widely as he leans down a bit so I can hear him. I look at him flirtatiously, “Dance with me?”

He shakes his head, wiping down his face as he looks at me. Fuck, the way he looks at me. He wants to, I know he does. He shakes his head anyways.

I roll my eyes, “Right, I forgot your my dads golden boy!”

His expression hardens, “He wouldn’t like you starting anything, either.”

“I’m his baby girl!” I smile innocently, “I do no wrong.”

“Yeah until you get too close to me. Why is it, just me? I feel like he gets antsy when you’re even a garage away.”

I laugh, “Because you- ” poking my finger at his chest, almost hitting the ‘4’ dangling from his neck. It’s a perfect reminder why I can’t do the things I want to do with him. “Are Lando Norris. And Oscar is happily glued to Lily! I don’t know if you know this…” I whisper in his ear, “But you’ve sort of got a fuck boy reputation.”

He pushes his hand through his curls, and I watch his arm go up and down. I hate myself for being attracted to him but damn is he good looking.

This makes a smirk grow on his face, tilting his head down, “He’d kill me.”

I smile, “I wouldn’t mind! The things we’d do aren't the sort of thing I'd tell my dad.”

His smile drops, taking a breath, “You make a convincing point. Still, no though.”

I sigh dramatically and back away, “Fine! Remember, Norris. My lips are always here for you!” I wink and walk away, joining my friends and letting Franco place his hand on my hip, knowing he’s watching.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I met Lando the first day he signed with Mclaren. He was younger, we both were. We were never friends, we didn’t see each other much because I was busy with Uni.

This year however, has been different. Very different. It’s like I missed four years and suddenly Lando got hot, flirty, and cocky.

But I still think back to that day when we first met, it was the day that my dad saw Lando and I smile at each other, he immediately vetoed any relationship with the McLaren drivers, or any other for that matter.

Lando knows this. He thinks it makes him more interesting to me, maybe he’s right.

I slam my phone back down on the table, a little drunk and severely pissed off.

“Your dad?” Lily asks me, Oscar’s arms are wrapped around her as he listens in.

I nod, “I just- Ugh! I can’t stand him sometimes.”

Oscar laughs, “I hear that.” I sometimes forget that other people have options on my dad. It’s sort of weird to me.

I sigh and down the rest of my drink, quite drunk and scanning the room before I can talk myself out of it.

“I’ll be back.” I mumble, setting my eyes on Lando and striding towards him. He’s talking to Carlos and Franco, a drink in his hand. “Norris!”

I yell, moving around the people who are annoyingly in my way. He turns to me, standing up straighter with a brow raised. I march right up to him, taking his hands in my face and kissing him.

He freezes for a second before grabbing my waist with one hand and kissing me back. This was what I wanted and it feels damn good. I can taste the alcohol on him, he smells like cologne.

People whistle and cheer around us. It takes my hand moving to Lando’s hair for him to back away from me.

He’s out of breath and licking his lips. He shakes his head, “Y/n.” I can tell he’s drank as much as me, he closes his eyes and breathes before the grip on my waist tightens, except he’s moving me away from him.

I know what he’s going to say by the look in his eye, he leans closer to no one can hear what he says except me, “I don’t want to be a way you piss off your dad.”

I frown, “Come on, Lando!”

“Come to me when you’re sober and not pissed off.” He shakes his head, still holding onto his drink as he walks away.

[angelixrr]

cw for fem!reader, yan!vees, noncon + dubcon, 4some, electrocution, manipulation, slighttt voxval if u squint REALLY hard

vox !

vox was by far the most insecure of the vees, and thus overcompensated for his insecurity by being overly possessive of you

would oftentimes drag you away from the other vees to take with you to meetings to show you off to shareholders, high ranking sinners and demons alike

his insecurities reared their ugly head whenever someone else happened to talk to you. be it friendly conversation or legitimate flirting, vox wouldn't spare either one, either dragging you away or having his security throw out the unlucky sinner

vox quite literally has eyes on you 24/7, has gifted you numerous pieces of voxtech technology, ranging from a phone, to a voxtech watch, and unbeknownst to you, he had you chipped after the two of you had drinks  he, n he slipped something into your drink to knock you out for a few hours

vox will give you anything you ask for, to not only showcase his wealth, but social standing and power. he's basically telling you through gifts that "no one else could do this for you, or would do this for you. i went through hell and back to get you this, you owe me"

vox is also the first of the vees to tighten his grip on your leash you're on if he feels as if you're getting too wild, too close to other people. he'll force a shock collar onto you, and then keep you confided either to his penthouse, or the vees's tower in his office

vox can be pacified really easy, acting obedient towards him really feeds his ego, and can make him go easier on you

valentino !

valentino is the least possessive of the vees, which isn't saying much, but he has the most confidence out of all of them so he doesn't worry much about you running away

really, he thinks you're lucky to have the attention of someone as powerful as him, the only time he ever really has an outburst is if you deny him

if you tell him no to accompanying him to a club, starring in a show, or being intimate with him behind closed doors, he will take it out on you, telling you that you should be grateful that he's been this nice, cut you so much slack when he's got all his other bitches on tight leashes. you're special to him, and he treats you so well compared to his other whores, so just shut the fuck up and take him

does tend to spoil you when you've been behaving particularly well, takes you out on the town into all the nightclubs that an ordinary sinner like yourself wouldn't dare go into.  takes you to the vip lounge and sits you on his lap to show off to anyone lucky enough to look at his favorite little bitch

absolutely loves to have you as arm candy, if he goes out 9 times out of ten hes begging vox or velvette to let you go with him, and if they tell him no, he gets huffy

loves loves loves to drape his wings over you and hold you close to him

blows smoke in your face. bc he’s mean and he sucks and that’s so hot of him

velvette !

velvette is by far the worst one to land the affections of, for what she lacks in power, she makes up for it in intellect 

she’s extremely cunning, and always makes you play directly into her hand, through manipulating you and others around you

will spread rumors between your staff about you selling someone out to an exorcist, or about you getting someone else fired, when really, it was velvette’s fault

will also manipulate your social media, since that is her specialty. she will boost your social standing if you play nice with her and behave, but if she thinks you’re out of line she will spread rumors and leak compromising images of you just to send you running back to her arms 

"aww, dollie what's got you in a tizzy? someone uploaded some nasty pictures of you? 'm so sorry darling, why doncha c'mere, i'll make you feel allll better" 

dresses you up practically every day, except when she's particularly busy, but even then, the night before she'll lay out clothes for you or organize a whole week’s worth of clothes. however, if she finds out that you didn’t wear anything she picked out for you, she throws a fit, and you’re guaranteed to be manhandled for the next week like her own personal dress up doll, with extra scandalous outfits to boot

if velvette feels like she hasn't gotten enough time with you, she isn't afraid to tussle with vox or val about it because she knows who's really pulling all the strings

loves to have you working for her, because she feels as if you’re the only one who really gets her. oftentimes she’ll have you working as her assistant, and mediating between her and her designers, or fetching her whatever she needs. she’ll also dress you up for the job, so she has some eye candy while she’s busy yelling at her incompetent staff. but, she loves it when you’re incompetent. when you do it, it’s cute.

posts you on her social media 24/7, wants to show you off to her audience. will cover you in black lipstick kiss marks, then take a selfie of the two of you, just to make sure all of hell knows who owns you

will oftentimes blow up on her current models and fire them, just to have you stand in for them, and have you scantily clad in front of her cameras.

nsfw

vox !

cuz vox is insecure af so he overcompensates for it in the bedroom, barely lets you do anything by yourself, wants to control everything

likes to use his hypnosis to make you do things that usually require a bit of persuasion. if you say that you’re scared of being electrocuted during sex, vox will put you under his mind control, and make you all docile so he can put a shock collar on you and fuck you while he electrocutes you. will remove his mind control halfway through fucking you dumb just so you can feel how good he makes you feel

likes to use sex toys on you, because he can override a lot of their factory settings to make the vibrations more powerful (to almost a painful extent)

can tie you up with his own wires, which will tingle n shock you slightly

valentino !

valentino is an exhibitionist through and through, it’s one of the reasons he runs a porn studio. will sometimes either demand you star in a show for him as a favor for all the nice things he does for you, or he will secretly record the two of you without your consent. just wants to show all of hell his favorite fucktoy

loves to degrade you and call you petnames, you’re his little conejita, his puta tonta, his favorite muñeca to use til he turns you into putty in his hands

is one of the more violent ones in the bedroom if you upset him, will choke you out and slam you against the floor if you tell him you’re tired. will fuck you no matter what you tell him

velvette !

velvette dotes on you in the bedroom, loves to have you all fucked out and teary eyed underneath her

her favorite thing is to eat you out until you’re overstimulated and crying, adores making you feel so good it hurts

uses you as stress relief if she’s having a frustrating day, will drag you into a changing room and make you kneel on the floor as her nails dig into your scalp to eat her cunt

whenever you’ve had a night with velvette it’s incredibly obvious, she will rake her sharp nails all over your body, and leave hickeys, bite marks, and lipstick stains all over you. adores marking you up for vox and valentino, just to remind everyone who’s really in charge

loves to use sex toys on you, from a cute pink n purple strap to a vibrator wand, not as mean as vox with them though. just wants to make you feel good til you’re a dumb mess under her

all !

even though the vees are competitive, vying for your attention 24/7, they do come together sometimes to mutually plan how to get you even more wrapped around their fingers

val n vox share you the most, they know what makes one another feel good, they're kind of a dastardly combo together 

you'll be taking vox's cock n then val will kneel in front of you expecting you to suck him off, but the moment you have his dick in your mouth, vox is pushing you all the way to val's fluffy groin, making you tear up and gag on his length

velvette n vox are also more likely to share you at once, but they work separately to make you feel good. vox will be fingering you, while velvette licks and sucks at your neck and chest, occasionally leaving harsh bites. 

velvette n valentino hardly ever share, but when they do its messy and competitive. they're practically fucking you til you see stars, seeing who can reduce you to tears the fastest and make you squirt the hardest. they're the meanest to you when together, calling you a dumb fucktoy, their useless whore, their favorite cumdump. won't hesitate to yank you away from each other. they just fight over you like two kids fighting over their favorite toy

when they're all together though, you're in for a longgg night. happens occasionally, just bc they're all so busy (andd sometimes they're too jealous to share). but when they're together they love to share you between them all. vox n val will use both your holes at once, while velvette kisses you n pinches your nipples til they turn red. they loveee to indulge themselves in their favorite plaything so they’re prone to overstimulating you. they will still use you even if you pass out, so you’ll be super sore the next day

[petersnya]

Blue jeans | Benny Cross

Pairing. Benny Cross x afab!reader

Prompt. ‘Told you when we met what you were in for.’

Warnings. Slight spoilers if you haven’t seen the movie yet!, angst (like a lot) cause that mane Benny needs a hug fr, language (cussing), one mention of character death, smoking cigarettes anddddd I think that’s it

Note. Tried to write the dialogue the best way I could to go along with the movie and how they talk in Chicago but I most likely didn’t do as well as I think I did cause I’m from Mississippi (yeah country asf living in the southern belt) and sometimes you can see it in my writing lmao. Got the inspo to write this form the song blue jeans cause it’s LITERALLY about him you can’t tell me otherwise. Also, Kathy is the star of this movie I swear. Anywho enjoy 😇

Wc. 3.2k+ (gah damn)

None of this was your speed. The grown men crowded around the bar from the front doors to the back wall, all huddled into groups like they were planning something. Earrings hanging out some of their ears while others had their belly buttons showing - the coils of chest hair damp with sweat as visible as ever, but it was obvious that they couldn’t care less. From the moment you opened the door, clouds of cigarette smoke that outweighed the amount of oxygen there was puffed into your face. It swirled around so much that you could see it in the air. And the way they spoke - you couldn’t believe your ears. It was all ‘F’ this and ‘F’ that so much that it could drive a person up the wall or make their ears bleed. 

Oh, these guys were animals. But they all had one thing in common— the jacket they wore. 

Walking in, you kept your head down as you shoved past all the bozos that made it almost impossible to get to the table your aunt was waving you over from, so you didn’t get a good look at them. You didn’t want to get a good look at them; by first glance, you’d seen enough. 

It was obvious that you didn’t fit in with a single person in that bar. Hands gripped at your hips as you passed through the crowd - a blatant look of almost disgust and fear on your face. When you sat down, a shaky breath escaped your lips as you scanned the bar, wide eyed, like a deer in headlights. You could hear your aunt telling you to calm down— that these guys just wanted to have a little fun.

No matter how bad you didn’t want to stare, you couldn’t help it. Gaze locked on the back of one of the guys' jackets, you could see the patches that littered it with all kinds of words and symbols; but on the back, there was a skull with big white letters above it—

“Vandals— the hell you got me in here with these guys for?” you said in a low voice like you were afraid one of them might hear you.

“Whatever, niece, these guys ain’t all that bad.”

“I don’t even know what a Vandal is,” the look on her face told you that she didn’t either. Of course you knew about these ‘motorcycle clubs’ that keep popping up all over the midwest, but you never put a second thought to it. They were a bunch of guys that had too much time on their hands— with that time, they sat around and talked about bikes all day while getting stoned and drunk. 

It was obvious that they were, in fact, one of these clubs. The moment you pulled up to the bar, there were rows upon rows of motorcycles out front. That sight alone made you get back in your car and contemplate driving off. You didn't want anything to do with any club, that's why you had been so alert since you got there. Eyes darting around to try and keep an eye on all of the men that were in your view.

“And that's exactly what your problem is, niece, you're such a square.”

“I’m not a square… I’m just not stupid.” An audible scoff came from her at your words. You could see her get up from the table out of the corner of your eye as you continued to look around the bar. She’d said something about getting a drink before she left, but you couldn’t focus on her right then - too busy trying to hear what the group of guys huddled near your table were plotting. They had to have been plotting something, cause who just gets in a huddle with their arms around each other to ‘talk’? People who plot shit.

After waiting a little while for your aunt to return, you couldn’t take it anymore. Lord knows you didn't want to be in this place any way, let alone by yourself. You stood from your seat and tried to look around people who were in your way to see if you could see where she had gone. But you didn’t.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you sat back in your chair reluctantly with a scowl on your face. Arms folded across your chest, you tried to look as unapproachable as possible to everyone who passed by your table.

“What’s with the look?”

A deep, almost gravely voice came from beside you - where your aunt had been sitting before. It should have scared you, but it was soothing to hear. You turned towards the voice to be met with a tall, lean yet muscular man who stood before you. A few tattoos littered his arms from what the sleeveless shirt allowed you to see. Two chunky-ish rings blinged in the dim lighting above the table. His dirty blonde hair matches the bit of stubble on his face.

Staring, wide eyed at him, you couldn’t bring yourself to speak— or to blink. You had never seen a man like this a day in your life. He didn’t look like the rest of those animals in this bar. Hell, he looked better than any man outside this bar.

Swinging a chair around towards you, he sat close enough to where you could feel his breath fan against your face. The look in his eyes was amusing and expecting as he waited for you to answer his question. But you couldn’t. You just stared at him.

From the moment you saw him, in the best way possible— he made your eyes burn.

He chuckled lightly before licking his lips, resting his chin on his forearms. “I’m Benny.”

“Hi…” You said breathlessly. That same slick smile on his lips, he stood from his chair wordlessly, running his hand along the back of yours before walking away.

-

Your arms folded across your chest tightly as you waited to cross the street right outside the bar to get to your car. There were no other cars coming, but you were still waiting for the ‘walk’ signal. Crisp air blew harshly against your ears to the point where they hurt— but that was the last of your thoughts. Every other thought in your mind was clouded or disappeared. All of them were taken over by the thought of him. Of Benny.

He was unlike anything you’d ever seen. His image burned into your head: the black, sleeveless shirt that showed off his tattooed arms. Dark washed blue jeans. Blue eyes that looked as if they had everything to hide. Bruised hands that had two large rings, but his hands made them look small. Stubbled face. It was like James Dean. Everything about him was the opposite of you— a match made in heaven.

The bar door opened behind you, making you look over your shoulder. Benny walked out of the bar, hand digging out a cigarette and a lighter. You watched, unable to look away as he placed the cigarette between his lips, cupping his hand around it so the wind wouldn’t blow out the fire from the lighter. He stuffed the lighter into his Vandals jacket pocket, swinging his leg over his bike before kicking it as hard as he could. The engine roared loudly that it sounded like it would break down any minute. The sound of it made you jump, pulling you back to reality.

A blinking light flashed, telling you that you could walk across the street - but you stood there - arms still folded, eyes burning from your stare, lips chapped from the air.

Benny twisted the handle of his bike, looking over his shoulder at you wordlessly. Taking a long pull before blowing the smoke out slowly. The sight made your head fuzzy, it was beautiful.

The bar doors opened again and people came rushing out. Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden yelling and chanting. You had no clue what the hell they were on about, but when you looked back at Benny, you could see him scoot forward on his bike while looking at you with a crooked smile. Your steps were slow as you approached his bike, eventually reaching it and placing your hands on his shoulders gently.

Swinging your leg over and settling on the seat, you could feel Bennys hand cup around the back of your knee, moving you closer to him before he kicked at the bike again and took off through the red light.

Your cheek pressed against his shoulder, arms wrapped around his waist tightly. As many stop lights as he's run from the time you got onto that bike-- you should be terrified for your life. Your eyes shut tightly each time he sped between cars. Each time, you gripped onto him harder.

His same laugh from earlier reached your ears. “I got you. Don’t worry, dove, okay?”

Nodding against his shoulder, you opened your eyes to see that you were approaching the highway. A smile spread onto your lips softly at the sight of the open road. No one else in sight for miles.

Just you and Benny.

-

“Benny, where are you going?” Your voice was soft, words slightly mumbled from you biting nervously at your thumbnail as you watched Benny from the doorway, pulling on his Vandals jacket hurriedly.

“Gotta go meet Johnny.” His words were almost dismissive as he picked up his bike keys, shoving them in his pocket with his cigarettes. Of course. You knew that the club was Bennys family… Johnny was like his father. But the club isn't the same anymore. It’s not how it was when you met Benny. So much had changed in a year. You married Benny within weeks of meeting him. You became a part of his life— his riding, his loyalty to the club, his hospital visits, his fights, his lawyers and jail cells.

He moved in with you and everything you knew changed. It wasn’t that you didn’t want Benny in your house or a part of your life. You loved him with everything in you. Any time the phone would ring, your heart stopped, thinking something had happened to Benny… again. But now, you couldn’t imagine your life without him. He was all you cared for. But this fucking club.

You couldn't take it anymore.

It wasn’t so bad at first. Sure, you had to get used to the drinking and smoking and Benny being out till 4 in the morning almost every. Single. Night. But the club was like a second family now. Until Brucie died.

Benny didn’t seem to be phased by any of it though. Brucies death, the drug deals being ran all the way from Canada, the new members who challenged Johnny everyday of his life. Of course, you knew Benny was seeing what you were seeing. But he still stayed with the club. Even after all the messed up shit that had been happening that made you tell him that it was getting out of hand— he still defended it.

“Meet Johnny for what..?” your words were hesitant as you took a step into the door, eyes scanning over Benny. He avoided your gaze, something he's been doing a lot recently. Since you had met Benny, he always stares into your eyes as if he were searching them. He didn’t do that anymore.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. I'll be back later tonight.”

“Benny.” You said his name. Louder this time. His Blue eyes reluctantly trailed up to yours, brows raising once to show you that he was listening. Shrugging your shoulders, you shook your head slowly. You couldn’t find the words you wanted to say. You wanted to say so fucking much. You were sick of this life— sick of worrying about where he is, if he's gotten caught up in something that you didn’t know how to get him out of.

He said your name in an almost hushed voice, gaining your attention.

Taking a shaky breath, your wide, tired eyes found him. “I don’t know how much more of this you can take, Benny.” He dropped his head, shaking it as a dry chuckle escaped his lips. “The hell are you goin’ on about, dove.”

Bennys’ voice always had so much power over you. His words and the way he used them had so much more. The way he called you dove. In the early days of the two of you, Benny told you that he called you dove cause you were too pure for him. Too different— perfect, almost. He said that you could fly away from him at any given moment, but you never did. That meant the world to him. Your loyalty to him reminded him of why he loved you so much: you’d never go anywhere, no matter what he did. No matter what happened.

“You’re gonna sit here and tell me what I can and can’t take?” He said as he propped himself up against the dresser behind him.

“No, Benny, that's not what I’m sayin’.” You stepped closer to him, arms still folded across your chest. “I’m sayin’... I can’t handle worrying about you every second of every day. I worry even when you're next to me cause everytime I look at you, I see how drained you look. I don’t like seeing that when I look at you— it hurts me”

Benny lifted his head to look into your eyes. Your eyes searched his relentlessly, trying to find something in them— but it was the same as it was when you met him. Like he was hiding the world behind those pretty blue eyes. “I’ll leave then.”

“What?” Your face dropped as your arms fell slack at your side. “Don’t do this right now.” Benny had a bad habit of every single time something went wrong, and you came to him with a pained look on your face, he would tell you that he would just leave so that you didn’t have to worry about him anymore. He said it so much that it made you think he just said it so that you would beg him not to. Of course, Benny would never be that cruel to you. He never said things to just hurt you. He meant what he said, the only reason he never followed through was because he would think of you.

“Then don’t- don’t come to me with this again. We’ve talked about this before.”

“Well, we need to talk about it again. I don’t want you in the club no more, and I mean that.” You had never been so direct with your request as you were being right now, always afraid of what he would say. Afraid he would choose the club over you.

“Don’t ask me that…” His voice was cold, but you could hear the bit of pain in his words. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Do you not remember how we were before the club started changing? Don’t you remember the night we met?” Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes as you stood close to him now. Before the Vandals went to shit, you and Benny seemed perfect. To everyone on the outside, they would say that your relationship was far from it, but you didn’t think that. You would go with Benny to every meeting, every ride, every picnic. You would lay on his chest and sit in complete silence while you watched whatever was on TV. He would take you for rides at all hours of the night. Speeding past every stop sign in sight as he whispered to you to hold onto him tight. To never let him go. When things began to get bad, but not as out of control as it was now, Benny tried to tell you that he wasn't good for you anymore; but it was too late now. You were too in love with him.

“I barely get to see you now. You go out every night doing God knows what with them, and you don't show up until the next night. But it didn’t matter to me cause I told you that no matter what, I'll be by your side.” The tears that you held onto for dear life eventually fell, rolling down your cheeks as you brought your hand to his face. You gently tilted his head to look at you— fingers rubbing his cheeks with all the care in the world. “I love you more than any of them ever could, Benny. I want a life with you, and we can't have that if you keep up with them.”

His eyes found yours as he silently looked at you. Bennys’ lip twitched so slightly that it almost went unnoticed. Bringing his thumb to your cheek, he wiped away a fresh tear that was falling from your eye at that very moment.

“Told you when we met what you were in for.”

His words cut you more than any knife could. Kissing your finger that was closest to his lips, he wrapped his hands around your wrist, he pulled them from his face gently. He stood fully, causing you to back away, looking at him with wide eyes and furrowed brows. You were scared. “Benny? Benny, what are you doing?” You said urgently.

He walked out of the room and down the small hallway, towards the front door. “I’ll be back, dove, I promise.”

“No- No, Benny! Benny, don’t you walk out that door—“ Your voice broke with sobs as you followed behind him, tugging at his shoulders and arms desperately. He could leave. You couldn’t let him leave. It didn’t matter if he said he’d be back-- that could be days later. Weeks, maybe months. You didn’t even want to think of the possibility of years. “Please, please don’t leave… I swear Benny if you walk out that door.”

He paused for a moment, standing in the open doorway. You stood behind him, close enough to where he could hear you choking back your cries. Benny hated himself for making you worry so much. He hated himself for making you cry. You were his girl, his wife, his dove. He never wanted to hurt you.

Wordlessly, he stepped out of the door, slamming it behind him before quickly going down the steps of your front porch. Getting out the keys for his bike, he sat on the tearing leather seat quickly as he kicked at it when the key was in the ignition. He sped down the road, through all the stop signs.

You wanted to scream after him, but you didn’t. Instead, you locked the door and rested your forehead against it as it pounded from your sobs. No matter how many times Benny leaves, how many times you cry over him or for him, your feelings for him will never change. You would always wait for him to come back to you.

Your loyalty belongs to him. Your love belongs to him. You belong to him.

[thesilmarillionblog]

A Sweet Distraction

Summary: When you're in a club, you have to make sure Soldier Boy stays out of trouble and doesn't draw attention of other people while Butcher and the boys look for Payback members. Whatever it takes, you have to keep him busy and distracted.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: Language, Soldier Boy being a dick, violence

Word Count: 1704

A/N: English is not my first language.

You put on modest makeup, adjusted your outfit, and gave Butcher a brief glance in the mirror as you prepared to go out with the most dangerous and unpredictable supe alive to keep him distracted. Although he was aware of your fear of Soldier Boy and your lack of desire to spend as little time as possible with him, Butcher believed that you were the only person fit for this dreadful task. You already felt bad about accepting Butcher's suggestion after learning about Soldier Boy's outburst and everything.

“Hey, I know you're new here, but while we're away, it might be best if a lady kept him in check. Don't misunderstand me, lovely.” Butcher remarked, placing his hand on your shoulder to encourage confidence in you. You sighed with acceptance at that. 

You reluctantly said, “Fine,” as if you had the option to say ‘no.’

“Oi, I'm not making any sort of suggestion, you know. I just ask that you keep your eyes on him.” 

“I know, I know,” you quickly answered as your cheeks started to blush. 

You were assigned your first job, but it seemed like your last mission because Butcher, who called you "his boys" only a week prior, forced you to join his team. Being aware of Solider Boy's reputation for uncontrollable explosions, you made every effort to stay away from him during your first week. There didn't seem to be any way to get in touch with him, though. Either Soldier Boy himself would be the cause of your death, or Butcher.

“Don't misjudge him; as long as he drinks and fucking sniffs his cocaine, he won't cause a scene. You'll be alright, I promise. He's not all that miserable.”

Even if you had doubts about Butcher's belief in his own remarks, you nonetheless nodded to him.

“Alright. Yes, indeed, I understand.” You muttered to Butcher. “I can handle this,” but in reality, you were talking to yourself.

“Excellent!” he exclaimed while clapping his hands. He was glad you avoided arguing with him. “My car is yours, and we'll get the van. Let's not keep Soldier Boy waiting around much longer.”

As you looked at yourself in the mirror one more time, your heart raced, and you took a sip of whiskey from the closest table.

You entered Soldier Boy's room, where a massive amount of cocaine was on his table, and he was already getting high. You did your best to avoid staring at his massive, well-muscled chest while he was somewhat naked. You were afraid that weed use would increase his nervousness levels or something, or worse, cause him to become even more unstable. You were waiting quietly beside Butcher, wanting to say something about the current state of things, yet you uttered nothing. 

“Hey, are you prepared to enjoy yourself in the modern world?” Butcher inquired in a lighthearted manner.

You retreated a step as he approached you, asking, "With her?" with a grin on his face as he examined you from head to toe after standing up from his chair. 

“Buddy, don't be harsh on her; she's already scared of you.” Butcher spoke firmly, and he added, “Y/N will just be your company tonight while me and my boys look for your most devoted teammates. She is one of us.”

You turned your back as your cheeks became red while Soldier Boy raised his eyebrows and turned back to Butcher. He proceeded to smoke while pulling down his sweatpants suddenly and putting on a shirt over his bare chest. 

“I wouldn’t try,” Soldier Boy said as he changed his clothes. “She better take me to a good fucking place. I’m sick of staying in this fucking room.”

“That is not anything to worry about for you.” You all left the room as Butcher murmured.

You and Soldier Boy arrived at one of the most well-known and weird clubs, which was primarily packed with supes, after having nothing at all to talk about while driving. Soldier Boy's mouth curled into a satisfied smile as you became extremely nervous.

As soon as you two walked into the club, he said, “Not bad.”

If you were a supe, you would find it much easier to adjust to the environment and everything, but you weren't, and if you pissed someone off, they could kill you in a second. That's why you got a drink right away and followed Soldier Boy everywhere.

He removed the drug from one of his pockets and said, “I wonder if there is a fine chick to fuck,” before turning to face you. “All the sperm feels heavy in my balls though I jerked off at least five times, fuck.”

You said to yourself, "Oh, god," as he continued to spit filthy words.

He turned to face you, licked his lips, and gave you a smile that was so inviting that it stopped you in a moment.

He asked, “What happened now?” as if you were exaggerating. “I thought you all wanted to take away my attention.”

As you were going to say something unpleasant about his actions, you remembered what Butcher had said and changed your mind.

“It is not important.” You sipped your drink and kept an eye on the folks in the crowd who were getting wild, intoxicated, and dancing, and you added, “Everything's fine.”

Soldier Boy smirked as he saw your shy demeanor and chose to focus on you briefly before giving someone a hard and deep fuck. He may even attempt to get you to open you spread your legs for him so he can give you a satisfying fuck. Your bashful demeanor made him wonder if your pussy was as tight as he thought it was.

“You don’t need to be scared of me, you know,” Soldier Boy said and he gave you another inviting look.

You muttered, “How is that even possible? After all, you are a supe on cocaine with PTSD.”

Even though you felt bad right away for speaking out loud, he only laughed at your harsh remarks and replied, “Touche.”

You asked him with an uneasy smile, “Are you having fun?”

"Well, sweet thing, I'll start having fun as soon as my dick disappear into some really tight pussy.”

You muttered, “Okay, okay,” cutting him off from continuing. You took a deep breath, muttered, “You keep having fun, I will be around,” and hurriedly moved away from his side.

You just hoped that the night would end soon enough for you as you faded into the crowd. Should you get through this night without injury, you vowed to spit hate in Butcher's face. 

You chose to watch Soldier Boy from a distance, so you made some space between you and tried not to pay attention to the bizarre and frightening behaviors of the people around you. It appeared to be a massive freak show. You couldn't determine which club was worse, Herogasm or this one. 

As you locked eyes with Soldier Boy, you noticed that his lethal green eyes were already bound to you, as though you were some kind of prey to be pursued. He frowned as he moved to approach you through the chaotic crowd, and you gasped. Perhaps you were just making things up in your thoughts, and he was just staring at someone else. You tried pushing some people and finding a quieter place to avoid him.

But the person you might have shoved hard turned around and yelled, “Why the fuck are you pushing my fucking back?” to you. He became increasingly enraged after you muttered an apology, saying, “Why do they even let ordinary people get in here? You only bring difficulty upon yourselves, fuck.”

Once more, you pleaded, hoping to get out of there without stirring up any more tension. “I sincerely apologize.”

You moaned in agony as the supe's large hands gripped your arm tightly. It was not as if he would give up. You should never have accepted Butcher's suggestion in the first place.

But happily, Soldier Boy's stronger hands grabbed the strangers tightly, saving them from a terrifying situation in an instant and giving them a sense of happiness. If not, it appeared unlikely that you would survive to escape this strange club. As Soldier Boy turned to face the supe stranger and shot you a glare, you touched your arm with a painful moan.

“Is it that, you fuckface, your micropenis gets hard for the weak? You wanna play the big bad tough guy?” Soldier Boy asked angrily as his hands tightened a rough, quick grip around the other man's throat. He wasn't allowing the other supe to say anything. With feeble mutterings, he was urgently attempting to free himself from Soldier Boy's brutal hold.

“Please, don't cause any trouble,” you urged, touching Soldier Boy's big arm. Despite your attempts to calm him down, he continued to tighten his hold even after the supe kept apologizing. 

“No,” he angrily said. “I found a way to have fun. This fucking cocksucker is going to die.”

You tried to get him to move by saying, “Please, stop,” but it was obviously impossible. You panickedly muttered, “Oh, no,” as you noticed his chest suddenly glowing. 

He clinched his mouth, trying to control his chest and halt what was about to happen, but Soldier Boy threw him between the crowd and he growled, “Stay away.”

 You knew that you wouldn't make it to the exit between all the chaos and supes before Soldier Boy exploded, so you disregarded his warnings, softly cupped his neck, and placed your cold lips on his warm ones, hoping to surprise him with your unexpected move and calm him down a little.

Next Chapter

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

A/N: Comments and reblogs are very appreciated.

-`♡´-

[killerlookz]

Dirty Dancing | Joost Klein (Groupie Love Series)

Part II of the Groupie Love Series starts immediately after part I

description: joost klein x groupie!f! reader- following their hookup, Joost learns that reader will be in Belgium for one more day and decides to invite her out clubbing, wanting to see her once more.

warnings: 18+ NSFW, MDNI, semi-public sex (i guess technically), unprotected P in V, drunk-ish sex... do not post my work to other social medias, this fic contains rpf and has been tagged as such, do not continue if that makes you uncomfortable, and please block the rpf tag

word count: 4870

"Did you enjoy the show tonight?"

You inhale, allowing the smell of Joost's burning cigarette to enter your lungs,

"I think I enjoyed a little more than the show," Your eyelids hang low, your words are slow, almost sloppy- as if you had just a little too much to drink.

A knowing smirk continues to linger on Joost's face, "Really, did you the show?"

"I wouldn't have traveled to three different countries to see you if I hadn't been enjoying myself." You tilt your head to the side, taking in his features- he was the sort of perfect that kind of hurt to look at, each of his features in perfect harmony with one eachother, "I didn't travel all this way just to try to sleep with you- but tonight certainly was a pleasant surprise."

"You make it sound like trying to sleep with me was part of your plan,"

"And could you blame me if it was?"

Joost leans back on the couch, the satisfied look on his face making it all too obvious how much he's enjoying your praise. and the way he moves makes you wince- still inside you, your eyes shut tight, and your muscles clench.

"Hmmsorry sweetie," He hums, placing his free hand on your thigh, beginning to rub gentle circles into the supple flesh. His delicate touch made you want to collapse into him- to melt into his chest and make this night much more romantic than either of you had anticipated. But you stay still, instead waiting intently for him to speak again, "How long are you in Belgium for?"

"Two days." You shrug, responding matter-of-factly.

"Good," A smile creeps on his face as he lifts his cigarette back up to his lips, "I'd like to see you again." He takes a drag, and you watch as his chest rises with his inhale, glistening with a fine layer of sweat. He turns his head to the side, his sharpened jawbone only becoming more pronounced as he lifts his head up to exhale- careful not to blow the smoke towards you.

He'd like to see you again

You attempt to bite back your excitement, bottom lip tucked under your teeth as he continues.

"We're going to a club not too far away tomorrow night, and I think you should come." He spoke so nonchalantly like you were just supposed to know who "we" referred to, or really even know the area you were in.

"Sounds..." The word lingers on your tongue as you search for the proper adjective, "Fun." You smile, careful not to give too much away, attempting to stay as cool about the situation as he was, "But I'm staying here with a friend, is it alright if she comes with me?"

"As long as you're there," Joost squeezes your thigh where his hand had been resting. His small move gets a breath stuck in your throat and you swallow, attempting to adjust your breathing back to normal without him noticing.

You only nod in response, affirming you would indeed be there.

Your body grows hot the moment you step into the crowded club. The music boomed from the speakers that filled the venue, the bass so loud you could feel yourself vibrating.

"Do you know where he's supposed to be?" Your friend leans in, raising her voice to be heard over the music.

"No," You pause, taking a second to scan the crowd of people that filled the club. It was a little hard to see, the only lights illuminating the dark space were scattered LEDs that cast the place in a glow of various colors, "He just said what time he'd be here." You couldn't find him in your quick scan of the place, "I think I'll just let him find me." After all, he had been the one to invite you out, so you figured it should be on him to seek you out.

"Fine," She shrugs, "But we're drinking in the meantime." She grabs you by the wrist, pulling you to the crowded bar. The two of you push past the sea of sweaty bodies on the dance floor, adrenaline rushing your veins as you realize just how packed the club is- you were always one to jump at the chance to party.

Practically leaning over the bar, your friend outstretches her hand to flag down the bartender. You continue to scan the area surrounding you while she yells her order- where was he? You worried that maybe he bailed, or you accidentally got the wrong address.

However- your worries quickly subsided as the bartender placed the two rounds of shots your friend had ordered for the both of you down. You don't bother to ask what she ordered, at the end of the day, it all went down the same.

You smile down at the glass, wrapping two fingers around it before clinking it against the glass your friend held.

"Bottoms up," She smirks.

The liquid slides down your tongue, warming your esophagus and spreading to your stomach. Goosebumps form atop your skin as you try to stop yourself from wincing at the way the alcohol bitterly burns at your tongue. Before you let the unpleasant sensation subside, you're already throwing back the second shot.

You exhale as you tap the glass down on the bar,

"Another round?" You smile.

Your friend holds a single finger up to you, as to tell you to wait, before she mimics you, downing her second shot. Her face crinkles as she slams the glass down with a thump.

"Give me a second, you're better at this than me," She shakes her head, attempting to rid herself of the taste.

Suddenly her eyes widen, and you feel someone grab your hand. The initial shock makes you jump, quickly flipping your head to see who it is.

"I've been looking for you," It was Joost, a smile on his face as he brought your hand further up, placing a kiss to your knuckles. The small gesture makes your face grow hot, and you're unable to control the small giggles that fall out of your mouth as he gently sets your hand down.

"Hi," You grin, studying his face. He looks much more put together tonight than yesterday, seeing as the night had just begun. Your eyes trail down from his face, looking down towards his neck, the surface above his Lola Bunny tattoo covered in splotches of red and purple- marks caused by your mouth and you briefly wondered if things would escalate between you again tonight.

"Hello," The smile lingers on his face as his eyes flick to your friend, "And who is this?"

"Nora," She smiles back.

"I'm Joost!" He exclaims, excited to introduce himself to someone new.

"Oh, I know," She nods

"We were just about to do another round of shots, care to do one with us?" Your eyelids flutter as the question leaves your mouth, a quiet beg for him to say yes.

"Ja!" He nods, enthusiastic at the prospect of getting another drink in his system. "What are we drinking?"

You turn around, a motion to tell your friend to answer the question,

"Oh-uh," Nora furrows her brows, "Whatever the house vodka is- I don't know, something cheap."

"Works for me," Joost shrugs before leaning down to you, lightly grazing your arm with his palm as he goes to talk into your ear, "Your drinks are on me after this one though."

You bite your lip, trying to stifle the giggle that was about to escape you at the feeling of Joost's breath against your neck.

"Works for me," You repeat his words back to him.

The small shared moment is quickly broken by the bartender placing another round of shots in front of the now three of you. Joost is the first to take a glass, raising it to the rest of you to follow,

"Proost!" (cheers) He just about yells, and you and Nora minic, clinking your glasses together before downing the liquid.

Swallowing down the liquor didn't get much easier for you- but you knew you were at the point where you would start feeling it a little. Joost seemed unaffected, swiftly putting down the glass without as much as a flinch-like he was only drinking water.

Joost raises his voice over the music, "I'd like to introduce you two to my friends, ja?"

Sitting at a section in the back you watch on as Joost and one of his friends dance around, in front of you, screaming the words to whatever Dutch song that had been booming through the club.

Nora had wandered off somewhere, having hit it off with some girl who had offered to buy her a drink.

"What?" Joost asks, "You don't dance?" He teases, a smirk pulling at his lip.

"Says who?" You flick your gaze up to him

"Says you who's been sitting here just staring at me for the last twenty minutes."

"Maybe I like staring at you."

He rolls his eyes, outstretching a hand for you to grab so he can stand you up. You oblige, his strong tattooed hand wrapping around your own as he tugs at your arm. He barely gives you enough time to stand up before he's pulling you off to the dancefloor.

The enthusiasm with which he moved was kind of adorable you couldn't lie, the smile plastered on his face, drink in hand as he danced around you- it was a little like he was in his own world, like he didn't care one bit about the other people around him.

As he's behind you he slips his hands to your waist, pulling your back to his chest. He sways you from side to side in time with the music, and you eventually get into the groove of it, throwing your head back to rest by his shoulder.

Despite the position you were in, the movements between the two of you remained fairly chaste for the time being. After a few minutes, Joost lowered his head to rest his chin on your shoulder, leaning to speak in your ear,

"Stay here, I'm gonna get us another round of drinks." He finished his sentence with a light peck to your temple before hurrying off to the bar.

The small kiss left you feeling hot- and wanting more, leading you to decide to really put the moves on Joost when he got back.

You keep to yourself for the time being, continuing to feel the music as the alcohol slowly sweeps away your inhibitions.

It wasn't long however until Joost came back, holding two glasses full of a dark liquid. You didn't need to ask- in the under an hour that you had been here you'd quickly become accustomed to Joost and his friend's affinity for Bacardi and Coke- even having given the drink some dumb name you couldn't remember.

He hands you the glass with a grin, eager to get back to you.

"Thank you," You stand up on your toes, reaching to give Joost a kiss on the cheek as a show of your gratitude. You're able to suck down about a quarter of the drink before wincing, a soft chuckle leaving Joost's mouth at the way your face twists. It was evident he was much better at holding his liquor than you were.

Soon enough you had found yourself once again with your back pressed against Joost's chest, his free arm wrapped around your waist. However, things felt a lot less wholesome this time- the way your hips circled with intent with your ass pressed against his crotch. You tipped your head back, eager to get a look at him as the pair of you danced with one another. As you stared up at him there was no longer a goofy smile plastered on his face, rather he was staring back down at you, his eyes lit with a familiar lust.

You're taken out of your thoughts with a gasp as you feel someone knock into you, before a liquid hits your chest, making you fling your head up from where it had laid against Joost. Above you stood a man, taller than you but shorter than Joost, clearly hammered holding a half-emptied beer in his hand.

"Kom op, kijk uit waar je loopt!" (come on man, watch where you're going) Joost's arm leaves your waist as he throws up his hand, practically scolding the man for knocking into you.

There's a sheepish look drawn upon the man's face as he holds up a hand in defense, A slurred, "Uhsorry," leaves his mouth before quickly walking away.

Joost grabs at your waist to motion you to turn to face him,

He mutters something in Dutch, shaking his head in annoyance before returning his full attention to you, eyeing the drops of beer that had been spilled all over your front, "I'm sorry, I'll get that," his arm slipping around your waist, lowering his head, making you suck in a breath as his tongue meets your skin, licking at the liquid that sat on the exposed flesh of your cleavage.

You can't help but tip your head back to allow him better access, the small licks at your chest to help clean you up soon turning into small kisses up the side of your neck. You weren't sure how much longer you could keep this up before you were begging him to take you back to his hotel room.

"What's got your pulse so quick, liefje?" He picks his head up from your neck, his lips curved in a knowing smile. Damn him.

"I didn't know you were a doctor," You raise an eyebrow, challenging his flirting.

"Yeah," He chuckles, "Maybe you should let me give you a physical exam." He gives you an overexaggerated wink, aware of the corniness of the line.

You bite your tongue, shaking your head as you slide your free hand up his chest before letting it rest on his shoulder. He's quick to pull you back to him, his hand now trailing below your waist, lightly grazing your ass.

"So beautiful tonight," His eyes trail you up and down, taking note of your entire body and just how little what you had been wearing left to his imagination.

"Had to dress up, I'm supposed to be meeting someone special here tonight." Your words are passive, teasing.

"Oh yeah?" He raises an eyebrow, his grip tightening on where his hand laid on your ass, "Must be a lucky guy."

"Mhm," You hum, though you doubt he can hear it over the music, "Kind of hoping he'd rather take this outfit off of me, though."

Joost tilts his head forward, his lips brushing your ear,

"Well- I can't speak for this someone special, but I can tell you I'd love nothing more." His voice is low and seductive but his proximity to you makes his words clear even with the sound of the club around you.

You push yourself forward, grinding your hips against the buckle of his belt.

"Maybe that can be arranged," You place a small kiss to his neck before biting at his earlobe.

You feel the tip of Joost's hands grabbing at the hem of your skirt, pulling it up slightly- had you not been so desperate for him by this point you would have slapped his hand, teasingly chastizing him for being so dirty, but you let him continue. He had only pulled your skirt up a little just barely exposing some of your ass before he palmed at the supple flesh, fingers trailing towards your inner thighs.

Your back arches into his touch, forcing your chests even closer together. Your movement forces his fingers to just barely graze the crotch of your panties, his hand now fully under your skirt. A whispered, "Fuck," leaves your mouth at his gentle touch. God this all felt so dirty.

With his head still lowered by your neck, Joost began kissing lightly, his hand not leaving from where it pressed between your thighs. You attempt to play off the subtle movement of your hips as if you're swaying to the beat, though it's all a desperate attempt to feel some friction against Joost's hand.

Your body feels tense, your arousal becoming pent up as Joost continues to kiss at your neck. You're so wrapped up in the moment you nearly forget there's an entire crowd around you, but you were sure no one was exactly interested in what had been going on between you two.

Some more mumbled curses fall from your lips before Joost looks up from where his head had been buried in your neck, his hand falling from your thighs. You pout at the lack of contact.

"Come on," His tone is almost aggressive as he pulls your hand, leading towards the back of the club. He's determined as he pushes through the crowd, bringing you to the bathroom, its small, and dark, a singular light illuminating the tiny room over the sink.

Joost just about rips the drink from your hand, slamming both of your glasses onto the skin counter before returning to you. You share a knowing glance between the two of you, before he pushes you against the tiled wall, his lips devouring yours in a hungry kiss.

It isn't long before he's feeling you up, his hands moving up and down your sides, eager just to have you in his grasp.

His hands trail down to your skirt, lifting the fabric up to your waist before he nudges his knee in between your legs, urging you to part them for him and you're quick to oblige. As soon as your legs are opened, just a little he's reaching for the fabric of your panties, pulling them to the side.

The tip of his pointer finger lightly brushes your clit, forcing you to exhale a light whimper between kisses. He doesn't waste too much time teasing you, an unlocked club restroom was not exactly the ideal place for long, drawn-out lovemaking. Instead, he presses harder, drawing circles against your swollen bundle of nerves.

The feeling of his fingers mixed with his rough kisses is absolutely heavenly. His fingers trail a little further back, collecting your slick before returning to your clit, and you gasp at his fluid motions.

"I've barely touched you," He muses, his lips parting from yours for an instant. You didn't have it in you to feel ashamed for how wet you had grown in such a short amount of time.

"Need you," You mumble

"C'mon, you've got me," Joost pulls away from you completely, leaving you gasping as he steps away. He cocks his head, motioning you towards the sink to command you to stand over there.

You nod, taking a few steps to the side, meeting the sink's counter, and you stare at yourself in the mirror before flicking your eyes to Joost's reflection as he walks over to you.

He places a hand on your upper back, urging you to bend over the sink. You bite your lip, slowly leaning forward, resting your elbows and forearms on the counter.

Joost's hand trails down your back, to your ass, giving it a light slap before squeezing tightly, the feeling of his fingernails pushing into your flesh making a small yelp leave your mouth.

But his hand quickly drops, and you can hear the metal clinking of his belt coming undone. The simple sound fills you with excitement, a tightness growing in your lower stomach at what you know what was going to happen next.

You watch intently in the mirror as he pulls down his pants and underwear to just about his mid-thighs, but you can't see much past that with you being in front of him. But you can certainly feel as his hardened cock springs loose from the confines of his clothes, the tip grazing your upper thigh.

He lightly kicks the inside of both your feet, spreading your legs a little further as he strokes his cock behind you. A hand comes to your waist, and Joost leans forward,

"Ready for me schatje?" He grumbles into your ear.

You can't do much in the way of biting your lip and nodding, you had been more than ready.

He lets out a deep exhale as you feel the tip of his cock graze your puffy folds. His free hand coming to your upper thigh to spread you open for him. Gently, he's pushing himself into you, your eyes shutting tight as you have to readjust to his size. You take in the familiar stretch as he bottoms out in you, pausing for a moment before pulling out so just the head stays inside you. He continued these slow, teasing motions until it was almost painful how bad you needed him.

"Please," You whimper out, your head hanging low.

He doesn't make you beg much further before both of his hands are on your waist, forcing you down onto him as he thrusts into you at a faster pace now. The small room echoes with the dirty sounds of each thrust in and out.

He's much more aggressive than he had been last night- but you couldn't complain, not at the sensation of his cock hammering deep inside you. A sharp moan leaves your lips with each of his movements.

Oddly enough, knowing that someone could walk in at any time and catch what the two of you were doing only added to the arousal you felt. You were sure at this point if Joost insisted on fucking you in front of an audience you'd probably let him.

Some praises in Dutch leave Joost's mouth that you can't quite understand, but they make you feel like you're melting nonetheless. A hand snakes up your side to your neck, lightly gripping at your throat as he continues drilling into you.

"Look at yourself, liefje." He grunts, but you barely have the strength to pick your head up from where it hangs. He sighs, his hand loosening from your throat to your chin, forcing you to look up into the mirror.

You can't help but look at Joost instead, biting his lip, face contorting with each forward thrust. Watching Joost as he fucked into you was what was beginning to send you over the edge, your legs starting to tremble beneath you, your cunt beginning to spasm around the length of his cock.

"i-I'm close," You stutter, feeling the tightness inside you beginning to reach a shattering point.

"That's oka-fuck- cum for me,"

It doesn't take you long for you to obey his words, your orgasm smacking into you with a force you fear may knock you out. Joost's hand leaves your chin, instead, he reaches down to your clit, rubbing the swollen bud to help you through your orgasm.

The stimulation is enough to make you scream while your pussy clenches, spilling your release onto Joost's cock.

Your orgasm, however, did not deter Joost from maintaining the same pace he'd been fucking you at. Your body slumped over the sink counter while he continued to thrust into you at whatever speed felt right to him, his finger still drawing harsh circles to your clit.

A few tears slip down your cheeks due to the overstimulation, overwhelmed with an intense amount of pleasure that you weren't sure you had ever experienced before.

"Just a little longer," Joost assures, his breath losing a pace as his thrusting becomes wilder and more sloppy.

Soon enough he's spilling into you, his warm seed coating your walls with an animalistic groan. His head falls back as he fucks into you a few more times before finally stopping.

He's slow to pull out of you, leaving you whining as you feel the full length of his cock exit you once more. But as soon as he's out he's quick to pull up your panties, his release slowly dripping out of your cunt onto the crotch of the fabric.

You're still slumped over the sink as Joost buckles his belt before pulling down your skirt to cover you.

"Fuck," He grunts, "I need a smoke."

By the time you had found yourself back in Joost's hotel room, you had lost track of how many drinks you'd had that night. The warmly lit room felt like it had been spinning as you laid back against the thick comforter of the hotel bed. Uncomfortable was certainly an accurate word to describe how you had been feeling. Far too drunk, makeup smudged on your face, your clothes too tight on your body. You groaned as you shut your eyes, cursing yourself for not knowing your limits.

You heard a chuckle from somewhere beside you, followed by the balcony door closing. A mild scent of cigarette smoke filled the air, and you had figured Joost had just gotten back inside from smoking another cigarette.

"I think it's time for someone to go to bed," He chuckles once more

"I'll be able to sleep once the room stops spinning," You moan, rolling onto your side.

"Let me get you something to wear."

You can hear Joost shuffling around, unzipping a suitcase and digging through clothes.

"C'mon," He says a few minutes later, his hand grazing your calf, "I'll help you get changed."

Your eyes flutter open, rolling back onto your back to look at him. You sigh,

"Can't get up."

"That's okay," He laughs, You can tell by the look on his face that he's drunk too, the way his eyelids hang, and his cheeks glow a pretty shade of pink- but he's clearly more coherent than you are despite having drank more than you did. He places a gentle hand on your thigh, "Can I take your skirt off?" There's no hint of sensuality in his voice, clear he just wants to help you get into something more comfortable.

You grumble out a yes in response, resulting in Joost pulling the skirt down the length of your legs,

"Are you comfortable in these?" His finger ghosts over the waistband of your underwear.

You shake your head no.

"Can I take them off?"

Yes.

Your panties follow your skirt, falling in a pile at the foot of the bed. Your top was the next to go, your lashes fluttering as your eyes opened at the feeling of Joost's hands brushing your stomach, lightly tickling you.

"Sorry," Joost grins, looking down at you as he lifts your top over your head.

The cold hotel blows onto you and you're suddenly aware of just how exposed you are. Embarrassed, you roll over to face away from Joost, not wanting to make any further eye contact with him while being so naked.

"No need to be embarrassed, schatje," He says sweetly- it was like he could read your mind, his palm rubbing against your back to comfort you. "You need me to get you dressed,"

You mumble out a no in response, feeling bad for how much he had already helped you thus far.

"Okay, here you go." You hear Joost drop the clothes he had gotten for you onto the bed, prompting you to roll over to put them on.

A smile instinctively formed at the first article of clothing you saw, one you had recognized. He had given you a pair of his boxers to wear- the ones with his name embroidered onto the waistband. It seemed a strangely intimate move, but you had figured it was probably the first thing he had pulled from his suitcase- not daring to see it as anything past that.

You quickly slip on the clothes he had given you, pulling a simple white t-shirt over your head before eagerly getting back into bed. You crawled further up the length of the bed, grabbing the comforter from its nicely made position, and getting under it.

Laying on your back, your eyelids threatening to close completely any second, you watch as Joost strips down to his underwear, tossing his discarded clothes somewhere in the room.

The bed dips as Joost climbs in next to you, quickly shutting off the lamp on the bedside table as he does so.

Had you been sober you probably would have kept the distance between the two of you, only using Joost's bed as a place to sleep and not as an excuse to get close to him- but something in your drunk mind almost made you instinctively turn onto the side and snuggle into him.

He didn't seem to mind, actually, as your cheek nuzzled into his bare chest. He wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you a little tighter to him, affirming you hadn't done anything wrong by attempting to cuddle up to him.

You feel yourself drifting off, the subtle bumps of his heartbeat gently lulling you off to sleep as your breathing slows. Joost must have caught how quickly you seemed to be dozing off, humming contently before speaking softly,

"Slaap lekker," He sighs, the last thing you remember before finally being consumed by sleep is Joost pressing his lips to the crown of your head in a soft kiss.

[kamaluhkhan]

in my head, i play a supercut of us

pairing: conrad fisher x fem!reader

summary: you come back to cousins beach after a few years away. conrad is not particularly happy that you're back - and you aren't particularly thrilled, either. too bad there's a history (chemistry?) neither of you can deny.

warnings: drinking + smoking. lots of plot + flashbacks. there is some mention of injuries, body issues/self esteem (reader is a competitive swimmer), complicated family dynamics (reader is eldest daughter), slight allusion to alcoholism.

a/n: ohhh this turned out much longer than i expected it to be!! honestly i have so many ideas that this will probably become a series. for now please enjoy the summer, childhood friends to lovers to strangers vibes ;)

you still crave lemonade, but the taste doesn't satisfy you as much as it used to. you still crave summer, but sometimes you mean summer, five years ago. (alida nugent)

now — summer, age 18

driving up to the beach house after so many summers have passed, you’re struck with the memory of your first time swimming. 

it was mid-june in cousins; you must have been four years old. you stood on the edge of the pool for an eternity, until your father became impatient and threw you into the deep end. you screamed, imagined your lungs being filled with cold water, drowning in darkness. your neighbour had run over when he heard, and your father had to hold him back from jumping in to save you. instead, your life jacket kept you afloat, and soon enough you were kicking as though it was the most natural thing in the world. you discovered your love of swimming that afternoon and in that your father found his star athlete. you also realized your love for conrad fisher, the boy next door.

your summers in cousins, the friends you’d met here, conrad fisher — these composed your metaphorical lifejacket, once preserving your childhood. you’d taken it off for too long, spent years in the deep end alone, keeping yourself afloat, moving towards a carefully constructed future. now it all started to crumble, and here you were again, a different person; you wondered if the others were different, too. 

it wasn't your first choice to come back to cousins, but you were determined to make the most of it. after unpacking your things, you decide to make your way to the beck house, right next door to your own family’s. 

you knock once, twice, three times. there's no answer, so you figure that everyone is either in town or at the beach. you start to walk away when you hear the front door open. 

"excuse me!" laurel park's voice calls. you turn around, and the shock on laurel's face is clear. "y/n! oh my god, i almost didn't recognize you!" 

"four summers can do that," you note. 

you hear your name from inside the house, and before you know it, belly conklin excitedly runs out and tackles you in a hug. 

"hey, bells," you laugh. you notice how dressed up she is, something that changed from the oversized t-shirts and patterned shorts you remember her always wearing. "cute dress. where are you off to?" 

"oh. there's a high tea at the country club. sort of like an introduction for the debutante season." 

you raise an eyebrow, looking past belly towards laurel. "is this a lemon jelly belly situation?" you’re referring to the code phrases you used to exchange for different situations, depending on different flavours of jelly beans: pear, toasted marshmellow, lemon. it might have been childish (you were kids at the time), but it always worked. more than anyone, you know what it’s like to be pushed into something too quickly, too soon. even after all these years, and even though belly is only two years younger, your instinct is to defend her at all times.

"possibly," laurel sighs. 

"it's not," belly insists, giving her mother a pointed look. "i wanted to try something new this summer, and susannah promised it would be fun." 

the two of you walk back towards the house. when you reach the door, laurel brings you into a tight hug. the three of you walk into the kitchen, and you find yourself taking the seat you had once claimed as your own — a stool at the counter, third from the left. belly settles down next to you, and laurel grabs a pitcher of sweet tea from the fridge while you reach over to take three glasses from the drying rack. 

belly explains more about the debutante season, and mentions that steven and jeremiah are both working at the club this summer. she doesn't get around to what conrad is up to, because laurel suddenly checks her watch, then sighs. 

"i hate to cut this reunion short, but belly, we'd better leave if we want to make that tea of yours." 

"right." belly looks at you with a frown, like she's worried you'll disappear if you're out of sight. "i'll see you later?"

you smile, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "i'll be here all summer," you promise, and belly beams.

"you’re coming to my book party?" laurel asks, though it's more of a statement than a question.

"yeah, sure," you promise, sipping your sweet tea. "i'll see you guys there." 

with one final see you later and another hug from belly, you're left alone in the kitchen. you wonder if the fishers still keep the cereal in the same cabinet; if their cupboards are filled with the same sugary snacks you were never allowed to have, but you and the boys would sneak when the adults weren’t looking. 

"y/n, my little mermaid, is that you?" 

susannah always called you her little mermaid — inspired by your love of swimming, yes, but also that one summer you were convinced that mermaids were real, so you and belly spent hours looking for clues on the beach and painting your nails iridescent turquoise. all the adults scoffed at you, but susannah was the only one who played along, who allowed you to believe that magic was real.

instantly, you rise from your seat and hug susannah.

"you have no idea how happy i am that you're here this summer," susannah whispers. as you break away from your hug, susannah places her hands on your cheeks. she looks happy and healthy, if a little tired. you can't help but think of the years you’d been gone when susannah and her family were dealing with so much. there was only so much connection texts, calls, and emails could provide. to be here now, seeing susannah fisher alive and well? 

it was almost too much.

tears threaten to spill, but you swallow them. instead, you reply: "so am i." and, certainly more than before, you mean it.

“conrad’s out back if you want to come say hi. i’m painting his portrait. he’s been a bit down lately, but if anyone can make him feel better, it’s you.”

you feel your cheeks heat up. you finish the rest of your sweet tea and put your glass in the dishwasher, not quite feeling ready to face conrad — there was a complicated history between the two of you. unresolved tension, hurtful words, that sort of thing.

“i’ll, uh, let you keep painting. i should go get ready for laurel’s book party.”

“alright. i’ll see you there, sweetie.”

“yeah,” you confirm. you start to walk away before hearing susannah’s voice again:

“and, y/n?” you turn around. “i’m so glad you’re home.”

later that night, at laurel's book launch party, you watch conrad pour another glass of wine, and wonder whether or not you should join him. his eyes catch yours from across the room, but he quickly looks away. belly ended up having a date, she'd texted you earlier, and you were roped into a conversation with your mother and susannah before you could find stephen or jeremiah. 

"they grow up so fast," susannah muses. she then wraps an arm around your shoulder. "i can't believe that our eldests are 18! conrad’s off to brown in the fall — how about you, y/n?”

“princeton,” your mother boasts, draining the rest of her cup and grabbing another from a tray passing by. that’s her third glass, by your count. “we were so proud. it’s the best women’s swim team in the country.”

“stanford is a close second,” you interject. “besides, we don’t even know if i can start swimming for real by then.”

you’d broken your ankle a month and a half before. it didn’t need surgery yet and you were out of your cast, but you couldn’t return to your usual level of activity for a while — which meant no training camp, like you’d been going to the past few summers.

“you know, i did always picture you on the west coast,” susannah smiles at you. “all those beaches and sunshine.”

your mother frowns, ignoring susannah. “don’t be ridiculous. if you spend the summer doing your physical therapy and resting, you’ll be back in the water before we know it. your father and i agreed — that’s why you’re here.”

you resist the urge to argue with her and instead block her out as she brags about your siblings getting top prizes in their academic decathalon. the twins were thirteen now and had plans with their friends tonight, sparing them from attending this event. no offence to laurel or susannah, of course, but you’d rather be with your friends.

when you look for conrad once more, you notice that he's been roped into a conversation with laurel and someone who your mom had pointed out as cleveland castillo. even after all these years, you can tell when he needs backup: the impatient tapping of his foot, his eyes searching the room for an out.

after excusing yourself from the conversation, you make your way over to conrad. 

"hey," you greet, nodding at laurel and cleveland. "mind if i borrow this guy? we've got some catching up to do." if either laurel or cleveland said anything more after yes, then you don't hear them, already pulling conrad away.

you lead him to the back corner of the room, near a small couch. neither of you make a move to sit; neither of you say anything. up close, you could see the shadows under his eyes, the creases in between his brows. he was always quiet, the more calm and thoughtful one of the group, but always with soft edges, especially when it came to you. now, quiet could have been replaced with brooding, and all those soft edges seem sharper.

“so,” you start. you grab the wine from conrad’s hand and take a sip. “are you gonna keep ignoring me, or are you gonna welcome me back?”

“when my mom said you were back, i didn’t believe her.” conrad looks at you, his face still. “i wish you hadn’t come back.” 

stung, you take a deep breath. after everything, conrad thought that was the best way to greet you? if cold and closed off was how conrad wanted to act, you could play that game, too.

“fuck you,” is all you say before joining jeremiah and steven on the other side of the room.

steven’s eyes widen once they land on you. "no fucking way. y/n!" steven exclaims. "thought you'd never come back here, man." there’s a joyful undertone to his comment as he smiles. same old steven: always blunt, always laughing. 

"yeah, well, i’m here.”

jeremiah just beams at you, picking you up and spinning you around. 

“jere,” you giggle, half scolding, fully floating.

“sorry, sorry!” he laughs, setting you down. “i just — i can’t believe you’re here. how come you didn’t tell me you were coming?”

“yeah, well.” you shrug. “i thought you liked surprises.”

“well, i do. especially if it involves seeing you.”

"yo, speaking of surprises — what if we ditch this party and surprise belly at the drive-in?" stephen suggests.

you shake your head, though leaving was very tempting. 

"or, instead of ruining your sister's first date, we get some booze, light a fire, and go get drunk on the beach," you suggest.

"oh, i am so down!" jeremiah exclaims. "you've got my vote." 

“hell yeah.” steven grins and throws his arm around your shoulder. "you always did know how to show us a good time."

then — summer, age 11

you had plenty of bonfires before, on the beach with your parents, but that summer marked the first one with just the kids. you begged and begged, and eventually the adults were okay with it since conrad had earned his boy scout badge for fire safety in the spring.

it was the beginning of july, and an unseasonably cold evening — basically, perfect bonfire weather. jeremiah helped susannah make hot chocolate for everyone. belly wanted s'mores, so you had biked with her to the store earlier that day for the ingredients. everyone was stuffing their faces with slightly burnt marshmallows as melted chocolate and graham cracker crumbs decorated your cheeks, and you chased it all down with lukewarm chocolatey liquid. you were kids and it was summer; life was sweet, life was good. 

"conrad," steven announced, turning to the boy who was pushing a marshmallow deeper into the fire. "i dare you to go dunk in the ocean." a grin erupted on steven's face, and in the glow of the fire, he looked like the cheshire cat. 

"no way, man. it's freezing."

you knew the real reason conrad didn't want to go into the ocean. one night the week before, when the parents were out to dinner and the other kids were asleep, you and conrad had stayed up to watch jaws together, having rented it secretly from the local video store. ever since, conrad had been coming up with excuses to not go swimming at the beach. 

"what's the matter, con? you scared?" jeremiah taunted, wearing a similar cheshire grin to steven’s.

"what?" the marshmallow conrad was trying to roast fell into the fire. he huffed, and belly handed him another one. "i'm not scared. it's just freezing."

"come on, man. you’ve gotta do it. besides, there's a fire and hot cocoa here for you when you get back," jeremiah reasoned. ten-year-old jeremiah was never very concerned about following the rules, except when it came to truth or dare. 

"i'm good," conrad snapped.

"aw, i think he's scared," steven laughed.

"i'm not scared —"

"what if i went with you?" you interrupted him. 

"but it's not your dare," belly pointed out as she continued carefully assembling a s'more. nine-year-old belly was competitive, so it was very important to her that the rules of any game were followed. 

"yeah, but if connie —"

"is scared," jeremiah coughed under his breath.

"wants company," you continued, ignoring jeremiah. "then, it'll be more fun, right?" you were a mix between jere and belly: you were competitive, but you didn’t particularly care about following the rules. especially when it came to your friends, even more when it came to conrad.

conrad smiled at you softly. "right." 

reluctantly, jeremiah, belly and steven agreed to the terms of the dare. you removed your beach cover up, and conrad his shirt, leaving you both in your swimsuits, dry even with swimming in the pool a few hours before. you ran to the water, pulling conrad with you. you stopped at the edge of the sand, waves tickling your feet and the light, and warmth, of the bonfire a recent memory. it was much cooler here, closer to the water.

"ready?"

conrad nodded once. "ready." 

hands still clasped together, you jumped into the ocean, leaving the comfort of the shore behind. 

now 

jeremiah finds stale marshmallows in the kitchen and steven makes a bonfire on the stretch of beach between your two houses. you head home to change out of your silk mini skirt and back into denim cutoffs. you switch your cream blouse for a short-sleeved button down, left open over your favourite bralette. when you get back to the beach, the boys have invited some people over, most of whom you don't recognize. 

"here," jeremiah hands you a lukewarm beer, which you accept gratefully. then, he throws an arm around your shoulder. "come on, there's some people i want you to meet." 

jeremiah introduces you to a few guys he works with at the club, and some girls who are doing the deb thing with belly. 

"jeremiah mentioned you’re a swimmer." gigi, one of the debs, smiles, eyeing the way jeremiah leans against you. "what's that like?"

the girls all wait expectantly for you to answer. 

"intense," you decide. you leave it at that. the fire flickers a few feet away, vibrant and alive. 

you want nothing more than to go back to those summer nights when you were kids. you want belly to be looking at the stars for elaborate constellations while jeremiah burns marshmallows to a crisp. you want steven to be laughing and making outrageous, impossible dares. you want the five of you together, huddled around a small fire that conrad had carefully crafted. you want conrad to be okay. 

"i hear that competitive sports can like, really fuck with a girl's self-esteem and body image," gigi continues. you don't necessarily think she means it as an insult, and it's certainly not anything you haven't heard (or felt) before, but you still bristle.

"like i said: intense," you answer cooly. 

"hey, man, when are we gonna get the marshmallows going?" steven suddenly appears, his face slightly flushed. he holds hands with shayla, who, as jeremiah pointed out earlier, steven is dating. 

"in a bit. i asked con to pick up chocolate and graham crackers for s'mores." jeremiah looks around before saying: "speaking of: look who's here!"

jeremiah runs off to meet his brother, while you stay back and take a sip of your beer. 

"looks like he brought nicole, too," steven observes.

who the fuck is nicole? 

nicole, you learn as the group sits around the bonfire and roasts marshmallows, is the girl conrad is either dating or hooking up with. jeremiah isn't quite sure.

the night grows darker. the air is warm with smoke from marshmallows roasting, the smell of burnt sugar dancing around. people start to leave to go to other parties, and soon enough it's only steven, shayla, nicole, conrad, jeremiah, and you. having less people around made it harder for you to ignore conrad. nicole is nice and pleasant to talk to, but you can't help but feel something churn in your stomach when you see how close nicole and conrad are to each other. plus, she's wearing a red sox cap, and you know for a fact that conrad hates the red sox, unless that obviously fundamental part of his personality changed too. 

jeremiah must have noticed, because he suggests a drinking game for the group to ease the tension. 

"never have i ever gotten a tattoo." 

you’re the only one to take a sip of your drink. 

"i meant a real one," steven rolls his eyes. 

"i do have a real tattoo." you remove the button down and point to the left side of your rib cage. 

the others take a closer look, except conrad, of course. he was always an expert at pretending not to care, but so were you. tonight is a prime example: since the bonfire, you hadn't said a word to each other. 

"why a starfish?" nicole asks. she leans further into conrad’s arms.

you look at conrad, briefly, then shrug. "i like the beach." 

the game continues until the fire dies down, and you’re left with a burning sensation from conrad glancing in your direction, at the starfish etched on your skin.

then — summer, age 13

"that's disgusting," steven said, scrunching his nose. 

"no, steven, that's friendship," you replied, just as jeremiah leaned over to take more from your cup, and vice versa.

"right, friendship." belly raised her eyebrow at you, and you rolled your eyes in response. you then decided to take an interest in your formerly white sneakers (after so many summers, they were now decorated with sand and sea water and permanent marker doodles. your mother hated them.)

that summer, belly became convinced that jeremiah had a crush on you. she said that he was absolutely lovestruck and that you were too blinded by years of being best friends with him to notice. jeremiah had made you promise not to tell belly the hilarious irony of the situation — that it was belly he so clearly loved.

"see, steven. friendship can be sweet!" jeremiah grinned, chewing the chunk of bubble gum he had fished from your cup. that was the type of cheesy thing only jeremiah could say and make others laugh unironically. 

years before, when you were just kids, you and jeremiah believed you had solved the most complicated problem in the world. you loved bubble gum ice cream, but hated the bubble gum chunks. jeremiah loved bubble gum chunks, and didn't care if the flavor clashed with his favorite rainbow sherbert because he loved you even more (platonically, of course). 

during the whole interaction, conrad was silent, looking out towards the beach. 

the five of you had walked to the nearest ice cream shop (there was no baskin robbins in cousins, but some nautical themed place with 50 flavors and unlimited toppings). you decided to come back and sit on the porch of the fisher house (where there was a decent amount of shade) rather than on the beach. it was one of the hottest afternoons of the summer, late july, when the sun was at its peak. those who'd been coming to cousins their whole lives knew that being at the beach in such weather was only good for swimming. 

you glanced at conrad, who took another bite (an actual bite) of his chocolate ice cream. he was sitting on the railing instead of the stairs like the rest of you, so you had to crane your neck slightly. you tapped his ankle, which was decorated with a temporary tattoo. the night before, the two of you had found a few left over from when you were kids and, having a sugar rush from too much cream soda and root beer (and maybe stolen sips of sangria when the adults weren't looking), decided it would be hilarious to see if the tattoos still worked. so, conrad had a cartoonish-looking shark on his ankle, and you had a similarly cartoonish-looking starfish on your arm. 

"you okay, connie?" you asked. you only got a nod and a small smile in response. more and more, as summer crept on, conrad would be laughing, loud and lively, one second (exhibit A: using those temporary tattoos the night before was his idea -- we don't want them to go to waste, y/n, he grinned mischievously) and the next he'd be silent, closed off (exhibit B: since you came back from your ice cream excursion, he'd barely said a word). 

even though you couldn't really read minds, you had an aching feeling that you knew what conrad was thinking in that moment, because you’d been thinking it, too: time was passing too quickly. in a few days, it would already be august, and september was just around the corner. the summer - your childhood - was as temporary as yours and conrad’s tattoos: vibrant and saturated, slightly faded, then gone. 

"i wanna go swimming. anyone wanna join me at the beach?" jeremiah suddenly asked. 

"i've gotta pick up the twins from day camp, but i'll try to meet you guys later." you knew that wasn't true though — things were getting more and more tense between your parents, your father storming out angrily after useless arguments and your mother passing out on the couch after one too many glasses of wine. someone needed to watch your siblings, and neither of your parents seemed pressed to find an actual babysitter.

"i'll stay with you," conrad said.

belly and steven took jeremiah up on his offer. once the other three were gone, you stood up. "scooch over." conrad shifted slightly and you went to join him on the railing, your knees practically knocking together. 

"so. did the tattoo help you get over your fear of sharks?" 

conrad took another bite of his ice cream, this time with a giant chunk of chocolate. "i don't fear sharks," he replied. then, he turned to you and shrugged. "i just respect them, you know?"

you bumped your shoulder against conrad's. "right. you respect them so much that you avoid the ocean at all costs." 

conrad smirked. "says the girl who avoids eating on the beach because she's scared of seagulls!" 

you were laughing, teasing each other, not caring that your ice cream was melting, when mr. fisher opened the front door, car keys in hand.

"oh, hey kids. we were wondering where you were."

"we went to scoops ahoy," you explained. you took a bite of your ice cream and resisted the urge to spit it out once you realized that it had a chunk of bubble gum in it. 

"better watch the ice cream, huh, y/n?" mr. fisher said, smiling like he said the funniest thing in the world. he patted his stomach to further his point. "if you want to keep up at those swim meets."

you suddenly froze, mid bite. you cleared your throat and dropped the spoon back in your half-empty cup, suddenly queasy.

"dad," conrad said, not raising his voice, but definitely irritated. "what the actual fuck."

"language, conrad," mr. fisher scolded. without another word, he got in his car and drove away.

"he shouldn't have said that," conrad said instantly.

"it's fine," you replied, too quickly to be true. you set down your ice cream between you and conrad. "it's nothing my own father hasn't said to me."

being a teenage girl was brutal, and competitive swimming amplified that, especially the older you got. there was always someone faster, someone more skilled, someone better. ice cream churned in your stomach at the thought. was your father right: had you wasted your summer, not practicing your technique and stuffing your face with sugary treats? 

conrad picked up your ice cream and handed it to you. he then took the spoon from his own cup, and stated: "fuck dads who are jerks." 

you couldn't help but smile. somehow, he always knew what to say to make you believe that you weren't alone, that things would be okay no matter how fucked up the world was. 

"fuck dads who are jerks," you echoed, raising your spoon.

"and,” conrad paused. he looked at you with gentle eyes. “to always being there for each other."

you smiled at him, heart soaring. "to always being there for each other." 

you clinked your spoons together, and ate your ice cream, and shifted closer so your legs pressed together — and it didn't feel like a temporary promise.

now

you always loved mornings in cousins. the beach was particularly beautiful at sunrise, the water at its most peaceful.

the morning after the bonfire, you need that peacefulness to wash over you. as quietly as you can to avoid waking up the rest of your family, you make a fresh pot of coffee and pour some into your favourite mug. it’s from the rainforest cafe: bright green with a cartoon frog on it. you brought it back from a swim meet in niagara falls when you were 10, and got one for the fishers as well. theirs was orange with a cartoon iguana. conrad would use it all the time; you imagine it collecting dust in the kitchen cupboard now.

you make your way down to the beach, and notice someone already sitting at your usual spot by the water.

conrad doesn’t say anything when you sit next to him. he’s wearing a red hoodie over his clothes from last night, a cigarette tucked behind his ear. he glances at you as you sip your drink. 

“morning,” he whispers.

you shiver, and not just from the cool morning air. you’re reminded of the last time conrad spoke to you so softly, the last time you’d caught an early morning sunrise together. such a contrast to where you are now.

“morning,” you finally reply. 

as the sound of waves fills the silence between you, conrad lights his cigarette and takes a puff. then, he hands it to you. in turn, you offer him your mug. a peace offering — you both accept. the space between you becomes open, comfortable.

“since when do you smoke?” you exhale, letting the smoke warm your lungs. 

conrad takes a long sip of coffee, looking out towards the ocean. “since i quit football.”

“i thought you loved football.”

“i loved it,” conrad answers. he takes another sip, then gives the mug back to you. “i don’t love it anymore.”

you take another drag of the cigarette. your fingers brush against his when you return it to him.

“once you love something, you never really unlove it,” you muse, even though you know exactly what he means — when it comes to sports. 

“don’t misquote spirited away at me,” he laughs, and you can’t help but smile. the first time you'd watch that movie was when you were 8. all the kids crowded into the den of the fisher house on a rainy day. susannah prepared an impressive spread of candy, popcorn, and soda for you all. you drank dr. pepper from a twizzler straw and cried when chihiro reunited with haku.

conrad glances at you and the sunshine highlights his smile, his brown hair, the hazel of his eyes. golden, radiant. 

you shiver again, looking away. before you know it, you feel something draped across your shoulders.

“i’m not sure nicole would like it if i was wearing your hoodie.” you joke, but your words are laced with a bitterness you hope conrad doesn’t catch. unlucky for you, conrad knew you too well. 

“you don’t get to do that,” he snaps.

“do what?”

conrad scoffs. “be jealous.” 

“well, you don’t get to tell me how to feel.”

“so, you are jealous?”

you exhale sharply; you can practically feel the wall between you two reappear.

“it’s too early, con. and i’m too hungover to deal with this.”

there’s nothing more left to say. you get up, throw his hoodie on the sand, and walk back towards your house, the beach and conrad further away with every step you take.

it makes sense that way: you were always the one to leave first.

[girl-next-door-writes]

And Everything Changed

Characters: Eddie Munson x reader

Summary: Eddie Munson’s D&D game takes a surprising turn when a new player arrives, leading to unexpected romance and vulnerability.

Word Count: 1527 words

Prompt: ‘Now Kiss her.’

A/N: This is for @caplanbuckybarnes Disney Celebration

Eddie Munson sat in the dimly lit room, drumming his fingers on the table, waiting for the Hellfire Club members to arrive. This was their big campaign night, the night when their characters would either emerge victorious or face unspeakable doom. But there was a problem—Gareth had dropped out last minute, flu. A replacement was required, and fast.

When Dustin suggested the idea earlier in the caffeteria, Eddie had balked.

"Are you sure about this?" Eddie asked, his fingers still tapping a restless rhythm. "She's never played DnD before."

"Trust me, Eddie. She’s cool. Plus, she's into fantasy stuff," Dustin replied, already confident that this would work out.

Eddie sighed and ran a hand through his untamable hair. It wasn’t that he doubted your ability to grasp the game—it was something else. You’d been hanging out with them more lately, joining their lunch tables and occasional after-school hangouts. And as much as Eddie tried to play it cool, there was something about you that made his pulse race and his thoughts jumble. You were... different. And maybe that’s what scared him.

"Alright, fine. Bring her in. But if she can't handle the pressure, it's on you," Eddie said, pretending to be casual, even though a small part of him was excited at the thought of spending the evening with you.

When you walked into the session that evening, Eddie’s breath hitched. You looked a little out of place, unsure of what you were stepping into, but still radiating confidence. Dustin had given you a brief rundown of what you were getting yourself into, but nothing could have prepared you for the theatrical spectacle that was Eddie Munson running a Dungeons & Dragons campaign.

"Welcome to the Hellfire Club," Eddie said, his voice deep and theatrical as he gestured to the table. "I hope you're ready for the most intense adventure of your life."

You smiled, a little shy but intrigued. "Thanks. I hope I don’t mess up too much."

"Nah, you'll be fine," Dustin chimed in. "Eddie's a good teacher."

Eddie shot Dustin a glare, as if to say 'don't oversell me,' but then he turned back to you and gave you one of his trademark devilish grins. "Alright, sit down, newbie. Let’s get started."

As the game kicked off, Eddie watched you carefully. You were picking things up quickly, asking questions when needed but mostly diving into the story with surprising enthusiasm. The room was buzzing with energy as everyone got lost in the game, but Eddie couldn’t help but be distracted by you.

It wasn’t just your character’s quick thinking or the way you seemed to take to the fantasy world so easily—it was you. The way your eyes lit up when something exciting happened in the game. The way you leaned forward when your character was in danger. And how, when you laughed at one of his ridiculous voices, it felt like a little victory.

As the campaign progressed, something shifted. The game wasn’t just a game anymore—it became a stage for something bigger. Every glance between your character and Eddie’s NPCs seemed to carry more weight. Every time your characters interacted, it felt like the two of you were playing out something just beneath the surface, something neither of you had the courage to confront directly.

And then it happened.

The group had just survived a major battle. Your character, an inexperienced mage, had managed to cast a spell that turned the tide in their favor, saving everyone from certain doom. Eddie, as the dungeon master, described the aftermath in vivid detail.

"The smoke clears, and all that’s left are the charred remains of your enemies. But as the dust settles, you realize something—your companion, Sir Andor," he said, referring to the noble knight NPC he’d been playing, "is badly wounded. He falls to the ground, bleeding."

You looked at Eddie, your brow furrowing. "I rush over to him. Can I do anything?"

Eddie leaned forward, the intensity of the moment pulling everyone in. "Sir Andor looks up at you, his breaths shallow. 'I fear... this is the end...,'" he said, dropping his voice low to play the character.

"No," you whispered, your voice filled with genuine emotion. "It can’t be the end."

The rest of the group was watching in silence, completely wrapped up in the drama unfolding between your character and Eddie’s. Even Dustin, who usually cracked jokes during the game, was unusually quiet.

"I want to... try to heal him," you said, almost hesitant.

Eddie’s heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t sure if it was the game or if it was you, sitting right there, your eyes locked with his. For a moment, it felt like everything else fell away.

"Roll for it," Eddie said, trying to keep his voice steady.

The dice clattered across the table. It was a high roll—just enough to succeed.

Eddie cleared his throat, slipping back into character. "Sir Andor looks at you, his eyes softening. 'You... you saved me,' he says, his voice filled with gratitude. He reaches out and touches your hand."

The room was thick with tension, everyone waiting for what would happen next. Your character had saved him, but the moment felt bigger than the game.

Dustin, sensing something in the air, leaned forward with a mischievous grin and whispered, "Now kiss her."

The table erupted in laughter, breaking the tension. But Eddie, instead of laughing it off, looked at you. He wasn’t sure why, but he couldn’t pull his eyes away. His heart was racing, and the playful comment had hit a little too close to home.

You looked back at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "Well, Sir Andor?" you teased, breaking the silence.

Eddie chuckled, but there was something different in his laugh now—something real. "I think Sir Andor... owes you more than just a kiss."

The rest of the game played out smoothly, but the dynamic between you and Eddie had changed. What had started as a game had turned into something far more personal. By the end of the night, as the other players packed up their things and said their goodbyes, you lingered behind, waiting for Eddie.

"I had fun tonight," you said softly, your voice carrying more meaning than just the game.

"Yeah? Even though you got thrown into the deep end?" Eddie asked, trying to sound casual, but his nerves were betraying him.

You shrugged. "I think I did alright. Plus, I had a good teacher."

Eddie smiled, but there was a vulnerability in his eyes now. He wasn’t sure if it was the game, the way you’d thrown yourself into the character, or the fact that you’d stayed after everyone else had left—but something had shifted. He wasn’t just crushing on you from a distance anymore. There was a real connection here, something deeper.

"I, uh..." Eddie started, his voice faltering. He wasn’t sure how to say what was on his mind, so he just blurted it out. "I’ve kinda liked you for a while, you know."

Your eyes widened slightly, but instead of pulling away, you stepped closer to him. "I know," you said quietly.

Eddie blinked, surprised. "You do?"

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I’ve noticed. And... I kinda like you too."

Eddie’s heart skipped a beat, the world around him fading into the background. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t used to feeling this vulnerable, this exposed. But at the same time, it felt right.

"I, uh... I don’t know how to do this," Eddie admitted, his voice softer now. "I’m not exactly the guy who gets the girl, you know?"

You reached out and took his hand, your touch grounding him. "You don’t have to be perfect, Eddie. I don’t want perfect. I just want someone who sees me, who’s willing to stick around even when things get messy."

Eddie looked at you, his heart swelling with something he hadn’t felt in a long time—hope. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you said, stepping even closer. "I want someone who can love the parts of me that aren’t always easy."

Eddie swallowed hard, his eyes searching yours. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was like you were speaking the words he’d always longed to hear but had never dared to hope for.

For a moment, there was nothing but the two of you, standing there in the dimly lit room, the echoes of your words hanging in the air. And then, without thinking, Eddie leaned in and kissed you—not in the way Sir Andor would have kissed your character in the game, but in a way that was real and raw, like it was the first time he’d ever truly let himself feel this way.

When he pulled back, his heart was pounding, and he could barely catch his breath. "So... does this mean you’re coming back to Hellfire next week?" he asked with a teasing grin.

You laughed softly, still holding his hand. "Yeah. I think I’ll stick around."

And just like that, everything changed for Eddie Munson.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

aita for calling out someone for being manipulative towards a trans friend? Names have been changed for privacy reasons and TLDR at the end because this is long.

I (24f) am cis but have had a lot of trans friends (binary, nonbinary, and neopronoun) throughout the years and am very supportive so i take this very seriously. So I met this girl my first year in college (we were 18 at the time) and we became friends. We're polar opposites, she talks a lot and I don't, she parties a lot and I like to do more sophisticated things, she's a typical extrovert basically, and I'm more introverted. Anne (24f) was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder. I don't know when, she just told me this years ago. I've seen tiktoks about bpd and researched Google about bpd a little so I know all about how they have fave persons and will "mimic" people in the friend group and become clingy, manipulate, etc. I've seen pics of her in high school, noticed that she was a theater kid, she said she was good at acting and even said she thinks her bpd helped with her acting although I'm not sure how, but she said she only joined the theater club because a boy she had a crush on was in theater. That should've been my first red flag but I was naive. She has a degree in something else (not theater) because our second year in college her favorite character in a TV show did a certain job, she got interested in that, and now she also does that as a living. She doesn't talk about her bpd, she's only mentioned it a handful of times. I can count on one hand how many times. And I get it because she said someone once told her people with bpd should be sterilized and not be allowed near children. Which is really messed up and I hate that someone said that.

However on with the situation. One of our friends Mike (25m) is a trans man. We met him four years ago. He's very handsome, broody, introverted, intelligent, great listener, very accepting and understanding, similar to me but opposite to her. Now we didn't know he was trans until two years ago, because I asked him on a date and he turned me down, and when I asked why he told me that he was mostly T4T and only viewed me as a friend. We were like woah you're trans, okay that's cool, etc. He explained that he was lucky enough to get on puberty blockers and transition young etc which is why he passes. I said okay I'm not trans and you're mostly T4T fair enough.

Well last year Anne suddenly tells us that she is trans too. She says she's bigender. She says she is okay with either she her or he him because she feels like a man and a woman at the same time. Some days she's a woman, some days she's a man, and some days she's both, according to her. She says she does not like they them pronouns. Suddenly her and Mike are spending all this extra time together. Last month he confided in me that he thinks he's in love with her, after years of him only seeing her as a friend, and then they started officially dating.

Here's the problem: she has not changed her outward appearance, her name, started any kind of medical stuff, joined any groups, bought a binder etc. We all continue to call her she and her because she fully presents as female and doesn't have a problem with it. Also she's very effeminate in body language, the way she talks, etc. I know technically I could call her a he or a him, too, but she never asks me to or corrects people when they call her she because well technically she is a she too. Mike is the only one who uses he and him pronouns with her as often as she and her, but she has never thanked him. It really feels like she's saying she's trans and then going about her life exactly as a cis woman simply to convince Mike to date her.

First off, Anne and Mike are NOT compatible. She likes to party, smoke weed, talks a lot, I'm not sure how she graduated with such good grades or why she does so well in her job because she is honestly a LOT to handle and I'm saying that as nice as possible. Mike would never touch weed or go to clubs and he says he would be fine staying home while she does those things but how could you trust someone to party while high and not hook up with others? I've seen her make out with five people in one night at a frat party. They also had wildly different childhoods, such as she grew up in a conservative community and doesn't speak to her family, and he grew up in a liberal area and is close with his family. But more importantly she has a history of joining theater because she had a crush on someone in theater (plus she admits she is good at acting, so maybe she is acting now?) and getting a degree and job in a field because a favorite fictional character did that and now this? It feels like she was attracted to him, found out he usually dates other trans people, and found a way to continue being cis but claim to be trans without having to do anything trans related, basically mimicing her favorite person. As soon as they met they hit it off, or should I say she clung to him and pretended to have the same likes and dislikes whenever they were alone I assume.

It sounds terrible I know, which is why I discussed this with a group chat first that neither of them are in, and the group chat not only agreed that she is far too "obnoxious" for him (those were NOT my words!) but that she is faking being trans in an attempt to make him fall in love with her (which seems to be working.) I would NEVER have gone further without making sure with them first. So then a few of the people in my group chat and I held an intervention with Anne alone. The six of us (the others don't live close enough to come) met up with Anne at her place and told her what she was doing was wrong and gross and that she needed to get help for her bpd and to stop catfishing Mike. She didn't take well to what was said, which I anticipated, but she went crazy. She was screaming at us, insulting us, sobbing while yelling etc, literally said if we ever contacted her again she would call the cops, so we left.

I immediately called Mike before she could and asked him to meet me at a restaurant nearby and that it was very important. Since Mike doesn't know anyone in the group chat I went alone and I explained EVERYTHING before she could gaslight and manipulate him even further. He left, did not finish or pay for his food. I messaged him several times, but a few hours later he texted me to never to speak to him again, and then blocked me on everything. I showed up to his house and Anne was there. Mike said if I ever contacted him again he would get a restraining order on me so I left. I've discussed this with the group chat and now suddenly half of them changed their mind and don't want to talk about it anymore. Several of them left the group chat. Not only that but several of my friends who know either Mike or Anne or both have blocked me on everything. When I've tried to contact these friends through other means and explain everything, they either didn't respond or said for me never to contact them again because I was being transphobic. Listen I know under NORMAL circumstances you shouldn't question when someone comes out but this is NOT a normal situation, and now I am concerned Anne is unsafe for Mike but also an unsafe person to know, as she literally is trying to destroy my life because I called her out on some seriously messed up and abusive behavior.

TLDR am I the asshole for trying to protect my trans friend from a potential stalker?

What are these acronyms?

[smoochhyuka]

Fucking Tubatu on a party

You can't wait until home.

○o。content warnings! NSFW, sex in public spaces, fem!reader, mentions of alcohol and intoxication in all, drunk!reader in all, established relationship in all, brief mention of friends smoking and oral m!receiving in Yeons, jealous!Soob and brief mention of asphyxiation, free use and fingering in Gyus (I am unsure how to write for him so its a lil weird), cunnilingus, unprotected sex and maybe strength kink if you squint in Tyuns, perv!manipulative!Kai as well as oral m!receiving and breast play, kinda more like a prompt than general hcs, unedited

Yeonjun

Yeonjun and you go out quite a lot, most of the time you either go to a bar as a date or he gets invited to stuff and he takes you as a plus one.

You are a firm believer that the getting ready portion of the night out is almost the best part, so you usually meet at either one of your places to do so together. At the beginning he didn't quite get it, but after a bottle of wine, a fotoshoot and a karaoke session he understood the appeal.

Therefore the sexual tension is already high before you even leave the house. It only gets worse throughout the night, especially the more alcohol you drink or the harder you grind on another on the dance floor. After a few hours of not even bothering to hide the boner, most of the time Yeonjun will just take you home a little earlier than planned.

But tonight is different, it's the birthday of one of his friends and he really wants to stay until at least 4am at the house party. It's just past midnight, his friend just finished opening the presents and Yeonjun knows he can't handle the blue balls for another four hours. The fact that you decided to wear the shortest and tightest dress you own doesn't help a bit.

Since the party has just gotten started, everyone is inside socializing, no one is going on the balcony for quite a while. Even all the smokers decided to go collectively before midnight so they can all comfortably celebrate the birthday together, you two can have a little bit of privacy...

Of course you noticed all of it: the boner, the lustful stare in his glossy eyes, his wandering hands, the passion even behind small pecks. The moment you saw his eyes wander toward the balcony you understand, and pull him outside. It's chilly, but thankfully not cold. Without wasting any time you unbuckle his belt.

He hisses the moment the cool air hits his swollen cock. It's an angry shade of red and his balls feel heavy and hot in your hands. He presses one clumsy kiss on your lips before you squat in front of him, struggling at first to balance your tipsy self on your heels like that.

You slowly trail the tip of your tongue along the base of his dick until you reach his tip, he can't help but moan loudly. The music definitely muffles the sound for the party attendees, the neighbors aren't so lucky.

It's the alcohol leading him, he swears! Normally he wouldn't risk to get caught receiving the sloppiest head known to man.

Soobin

He tends to stay home on the weekends, clubs aren't really his thing and bars are a waste of money. One of his friends hosts really good house parties though, they are a little smaller because they aren't open house and sometimes they even have massive wii u party or just dance tournaments, which is a lot more up his alley.

This is the first time Soobin asked you to tag along, your relationship has gotten a lot more serious lately and this is the perfect opportunity to introduce you to his friends.

He told you it's a lot more casual than most house parties, so why did you decide to wear your cutest little two piece set? Velvety fabric in your favorite color, a tiny short and a flowy, cropped, long arm top. You look like a piece of candy.

Together you receive a lot of compliments for being a pretty couple and you seem to get along well with his friends.

Since you're the only woman present, and gorgeously dolled up like that, as well as the new one, of course all eyes are on you. And some linger a little longer than they should.

He trusts you and he trusts his friends, but not all of the attendees are necessarily his friends. Especially that one guy who is the cousin of someone? He doesn't even remember who he is affiliated to, just that he's also fairly new and already getting on his nerves by laughing way too loudly at anything you do.

It's your turn to dance against the current finalist of the just dance tournament. "Binnie, give me one last kiss, I am going to the battlefield.", you giggle, your words are slurred. You make him laugh with your cuteness, but he takes the drink away from you. You definitely had enough for the night.

Halfway through the song, you give up and just dance however you like. You're very clumsy, yes, but still so mesmerizing to watch. Your hips sway, your boobs jiggle, the cousin watches too closely...

Soobin is pissed, that guy has absolutely no shame! The moment you finish he grabs you by your wrist and pulls you into the hallway, leaving everyone confused, including you.

He knows it's not your fault at all, but he can't sit there and tolerate it any longer.

You definitely take his concerns seriously, you wholeheartedly do, but that annoyed expression on his face is something you have never seen before. Maybe it's partly the alcohol, but his jealousy is turning you on.

Of course he immediately catches the shift in your body language, that smirk on your face and the sultry tone in your voice. It's really not the time to fuck! But your hands on his chest feel so good, you looked really cute earlier, he saw a peak of your ass one time during your dance... he's too easy to seduce.

Now he is the one without shame, pounding you into his friends mattress. One of his large hand on your mouth to muffle the sounds, but everyone kind of guessed what you're up to.

The walk of shame back into the living room was the most embarrassing thing he has ever done.

He promises to buy new covers as punishment.

Beomgyu

The only party he really goes to is his own birthday party. It's his birthday, he needs to age with a BANG. He won't mind a quiet get-together, but why not go and play lazer tag with his closest friends? Oh, you thought you'd go clubbing? If you think Beomgyu is stepping a single foot into a club, you're wrong. He dances for a living, why go dance more in his free time.

It's seriously so much fun, you also put up a good fight against his constant targeting off you, you even got one of his friends to help you bully him back, but to no avail. He's in his element.

Afterwards you all go out to eat together, he even rented a whole restaurant just for this. Has he ever been this extra? But everyone is having a great time, you all have delicious barley tea and you get to bond with his friends even more closely.

The evening went well, so why is your boyfriend staring at you this intensely? Beomgyu is almost bruising your hand with his tight grip, but everytime you ask if he's alright he'll just smile and dodge the question. "Please let's talk.", you plead and you leave to go outside next to the restaurant, it's to the side so the only people who could see you are the ones actually looking into the alley.

You worry, is he angry you teamed up with his friend earlier at laser tag? He surely must know it was just out of opportunity and not to upset him or flirt.

You can't even begin to describe your confusion the moment he presses you against the wall and kiss you, without even saying a single word. His hands trail down and he grabs your ass, you moan into the kiss the moment he slaps it just the way you like. You push him away, "what is going on?", you whine. "I thought about his all day.", he whispers in your ear in that deep voice, just right before biting it, making you shriek.

He is always more playful during kissing and sex, but this is really another level.

"Can I?", without even waiting for a reply he slips his hand in your pants, massaging your bud. Even with all this confusion you can't help but get at least a little horny when your boyfriend kisses you passionately like this, without even caring if someone comes looking for you.

His long fingers work you like magic. Your moans only fuel him further, they sound so angelic, he can't help but groan into your ear.

You cum hard on his fingers, your lipstick smeared all over your face. He just laughs at you.

Although he has a raging boner he declines a helping hand and just helps you to look at least a little bit less fucked out and you return back inside.

Back home you will make sure to not only return the favor but also to spoil the birthday boy.

Taehyun

No because the last time he went to a club it was not only ass but he got leaked too, now he's only going out with you, so you can make sure its a fun and private night.

He's not just the only true extrovert in the team, but also the only one who actually enjoys clubbing and prefers it over bars and house parties. He lives for the moments in the night when a popular song is played and everyone hypes up about it, everyone is screaming and dancing and just purely enjoying themselves without worry or shame. It's like the time stops inside a club and he can fully let himself go. And with you next to him its even more enjoyable.

He definitely likes to drink, but since a) you get absolutely smashed some nights and b) he feels some sort of responsibility to take care of you, he makes sure to at least be able to walk in a straight line. It's like a trade, you protect the fun and he protects the safety.

But for some reason he is so wasted tonight. Maybe it's because the barkeeper went heavy on the liquor in the drinks you got, maybe its because he had dance practice today and is just a little more susceptible to the alcohol or because he hasn't been sleeping well lately... whatever the reason, this is probably the first time he is more drunk than you.

You absolutely take the opportunity, you take so many pictures of him and tease him in videos how he's slurring his words. His goofy, lopsided smile and the few hiccups inbetween are just so cute to you, you can't help but to be all over him.

All of your kisses, your teasing, your compliments and your lingering touches intend to be innocent, but your drunk boyfriend interprets them completely differently.

His breaking point is when you decide to go dance again, the song just switches from a common party song to a much more sexual one. You love the song and immediately start singing along while wrapping your arms around his neck. On the chorus you turn around and grind your ass on his crotch, he can't help but groan at the friction. Surprised he didn't actually cum on the spot, he forcefully cups your chin and makes you turn your head to look at him. "I need air.", he tells you, his voice more raspy due to the shouting all night.

You're surprised that Taehyun retrieved your jacket from the wardrobe, "We're not leaving, are we?", you ask as you're finally outside. "Let's take a walk.", he just rebuttals. There is a small park close to the club, since it's already 3am there are barely any people around. Of course you noticed his raging boner earlier, "Are you horny?", you tease him with a grin. His face turns a lot more serious than you expected, is mood switch concerns you, therefore you stop and stand in front of him. Before you could question him he, again, pulls you closer to him, but this time by your ass.

"Baby, you tortured me all night...", he whispers, the smell of his gum hitting your nose, "Why would you treat me like this, mh? Have I been neglecting you lately?" Yes, the last time you had sex was a week or two ago because of his tight schedule, but you definitely didn't intend to take revenge like this. Your reasoning falls on deaf ears though, he is sure you must have intended to get laid. "Let me make it up to you..."

With just a jacket between your bare ass and the bench, Taehyun is squatting between your legs on the grass, sloppily eating your pussy. There is still too much alcohol in your system to care if someone hears or sees you. Before you cum he pulls away, a few tears form in your eyes from the edging.

"You will cum on my cock, right? Please.", he asks politely. In one motion he picks you up, sits down on the bench himself and you ride him until both of you cum.

Taehyun doesn't even remember the next day.

Hueningkai

Hates any and every party. No way he's going.

Naturally, since Yeonjun is throwing a house party at the dorm, Kais plan is to flee into your cozy bed at your place, probably play animal crossing on your switch and eat yummy snacks. Only one problem, you got invited as well. He can say no to the members, but how could he say no to you?

Now you're sitting in his lap in the corner of the sofa, your back facing him and his head is buried into your neck, arms tightly wrapped around your belly while you're socializing with some of the female attendees. At the beginning he did engage in the discussion but has now stopped for a while now. He only had a single beer at the beginning of the party while you already graduated from wine to shots.

You thought he went quiet because his social battery is low, which is definitely the case, but not the only reason.

Since he doesn't party he also never went with you, of course he had seen a few pictures of your late night adventures with your girlfriends but they couldn't capture how sexy you look in real life. You told him you would wear shorts and a top, since it's just a house party and you wanted to be comfortable, but he didn't expect this to be your comfortable party outfit. The low-cut top hugs your tits beautifully, the tiny shorts sculpt your ass and your legs are fully exposed. If you look closely, he can even see your cameltoe.

He went quiet fighting his boner, by now you definitely should have noticed it if it wasn't for the alcohol. He can't ignore his blue balls anylonger and decides to test the waters by grinding into you, just a little bit. The friction immediately sending a wave of relieve over his body.

A shy hand creeps down to caress your thighs, which you finally take notice off. You excuse yourself to the bathroom, Kai following you like a puppy without even mentioning anything.

"You could've said something...", you scold him as you entered his room, pouting, "If someone noticed it would've been embarrassing..." Kai frowns, "Is being with me embarrassing?" His self esteem definitely took a hit tonight. "No!", you exclaim, hugging him tightly, "But we can't do it in front of other people like that, you know that." He scoffs at you and goes to sit down at the edge of his bed, crossing his arms. "And you know that I didn't even want to attend in the first place." You lock the door.

"I know...", you walk slowly up to him, pulling down your top to expose your tits, "I am so sorry...", you kneel in front of him, kissing his clothed and rock hard cock. "It's fine...", he murmurs, lowering his arms, gently stroking your left cheek with his thumb. You pull down his pants to place kisses all over his boner, focusing on his with precum laced tip. He's so sensitive due to the wait, just a few pumps with your hand and a few kitten licks later he cums all over your tits.

You sit up straight, allowing your boyfriend to massage his cum into your breast, twisting and pulling on your nipples. It doesn't take long until he's hard again and you obediently get him off a second time.

You won't return from the bathroom.

[junedenim]

i want to stay with you, my love

the consequence of having roommates

warnings: smut, age gap, fingerfucking & stuff

word count: 2.5k

It was convenient small talk. Two strangers leaving a party at the same time. The elevator rattles. The building is old. He's old. Well, older. It's unhealthy, daddy issues labeled by some, predatory by others. But he's quiet and cute and he wore a button-up to a party most people wore a T-shirt too—unless you were old like him.

You weren't. I mean, women always tend to put more effort into these kinds of things than men. Most women at the party look like they came from a business meeting or a strip club. You likely fell into the latter. Your coat, a long tweed thing, concealed that fact. It masked you as one of those professionals.

You know he's looking over. He isn't good at hiding these things, most men aren't. They're sleazy and like women to know when they're disgustingly ogling at them. This guy's shyness is endearing. You noticed it when you were the only two people in the hallway waiting for the elevator. Eyes darting over but always facing forward when you looked over. Now, in the elevator, he continues this behavior.

"Going home for the night?" You ask.

He looks over as if unsure you're speaking to him like he isn't the only other human in this tiny elevator. "No," he answers, "headed out for a smoke." British. Interesting and not done since your study abroad semester in London. "You?" His eyebrows are still raised. He's definitely interested. 

"Headed home." You smile. The elevator hits the bottom floor.

He looks down at his watch. You giggle to yourself. What man still owns a watch and actually checks it for the time? "At 10:30? You're either the saddest or the wisest person here tonight." He's smirking, peering down at you as the metal doors open.

Neither of you makes a move to exit the elevator. You smile and look up at him through your eyelashes. "Indulge me and say the wisest." You walk out first but wait for him to join you so you can leave the apartment building together.

"Alright." He's as proper-looking as you can get at 10:30 after several glasses of, what you assume, is whiskey by the smell of it. His hair is buzzed, smooth, and freshly cut. Most notably, he has sunglasses on. At 10:30 at night.

"You mind if I join you for that smoke?" You're flirtatious and suggestive. Everything you need to get the attention of a man at this hour and that attire. 

"Could always use the company." He holds the door open to exit the building first. 

Outside, the air is bitter. Winter has finally come and he looks like he left his jacket upstairs. You almost want to huddle him like a baby rabbit. Your coat a cocoon for his caterpillar. 

He continues his gentlemanly manners by handing a cigarette to you before taking one for himself. The flame sparked from his zippo—yes, a zippo, he might as well pull out a matchbox next time—and a heat spreads on your skin like it's a bonfire. He lights yours first too.

"You Corey Hart or something?" You ask him, taking the first puff.

"Hm?" He wrinkles his brows together. He's got permanent wrinkles too. They're charming like imprints from a life lived. One you have yet to experience. 

"'Sunglasses At Night'?" You clarify. He takes a drag of his and he seems so particular about it. He purses his lips out in one direction when blowing the smoke out, much clearer about it than when you talked the smoke out.

He chuckles. "I didn't think you were old enough to know who Corey Hart is." So, he knows how young you are. Is he into that kind of thing? Are you gonna have to call him daddy tonight? You don't mind it but sometimes that stuff can feel so infantilizing and come from guys who would fuck teenagers if they could.

"Child of the digital age," you reply. He takes his sunglasses off then. "You don't have to take them off at my teasing."

"No, no, I just want to see you clearer." He's good.

"And how do I look?" Your lips pout and you take a drag hoping the smoke will elicit memories of burning fires for him.

He eyes you up and down, from those chipped colouring of your stilettos to the fly-aways on your head. "Fucking pulchritudinous."

"Excuse me?" Big words, drunk brain.

"You're fucking gorgeous."

"You using big words to compensate for something?"

He laughs. He laughs at you insulting his manhood. Most men are bitter about that kind of thing. He's throwing his head back and the smoke floods its way out through his nose. "Demonstrating length."

An equal-sparing partner. An even more tempting offer than a simple man. He's attractive, looks like he has money if the watch is anything to go by, intellectual, and—allegedly—has a big cock. You tilt your head. "Oh, yeah?"

"What direction are you going?" He asks.

"I thought you were just heading out for a smoke. Won't your friends be concerned?" Or your girlfriend or wife? 

He shakes his head. "Nah, they'll figure it out soon enough. I'm not the type of guy to get kidnapped."

"Who's to say I'm not going to kidnap you?"

He smirks. "I think I'd like you holding me hostage."

You dramatically blink your lashes. "What about me? Am I safe?"

He raises his eyebrows. "From kidnapping? Yes."

"And from other things?"

"Depends on what they are."

You would consider yourself a good judge of character so you wordlessly start walking down 1st Street. He discards his cigarette and walks beside you. "I don't live too far. Could've walked myself home." You feel the need to make that clear. That you're the independent woman who carries pepper spray in her purse. 

"I don't doubt that," he says. 

You don't even know his name. Something about that is alluring. A complete and total stranger, but you're still curious. "Where's that accent from?"

"British," he answers.

You giggle. "I got that far."

"I'm from up north. Sheffield."

You hum. "I don't know why I bothered asking. I suck at geography."

He teases, "I live in LA now. Do you know where that is?"

"Don't be a smartass now."

"What about yours? I got the American part."

You shake your head. "You're not gonna know. It's a tiny, little thing." You put your index finger and thumb within a centimeter of one another. "I just say LA now. I've lived here since I was 18."

"And what was that? 2 years ago," he jokes.

You slap him with your purse. You quietly laugh too. "I'm 24," you clarify. "What are you? 50?"

He clutches his heart. "You wound me. I was born in 1986 if you can do the math on that one."

You roll your eyes. "Too ashamed to say it out loud."

He switches the subject. "Who do you know up there?"

You ask, "At the party?" He nods. "A friend of a friend. You?"

"Just a friend. My friend."

"How evasive?"

"You're the enigma here."

You hum. You stop walking. It amuses you how quickly he follows your move. You walk up the stairs to your building, unlocking the door. He follows behind, no invitation. "We can sit in the lobby." You gesture him to the ottoman across from the mailboxes. 

You take out your vape, offering a hit to me. "You can smoke in here?"

You shrug. "Everyone else does." 

"And you choose to smoke that thing?" He sounds like your father. It makes you giggle.

"You've never even tried it. Have you?" You take a hit from it.

He plucks a cigarette out from his pack, sitting it between his lips as he rests on the ottoman. You take your place beside him. "I'll stick with me cigarettes."

You chuckle at his accent. Sure, you like smoking, but you like watching him smoke more. He wraps his lips around the cigarette and hollows his cheeks. It's an arousing sight to watch. You want to reach out and trace his jawline. 

"How drunk are you?" He asks.

Considering you had been at the party for only close to an hour and it hadn't quite hit the hour where everyone was drowning in alcohol, your intake had been light. "Two drinks, not very."

"That's good."

"Why?" You smirk over him. The smoke allures you to him, dragging you unconsciously closer to his body. 

"I really wanna fuck you."

A vibration rang through you. You sigh, "My roommate is probably home." You lean back against the wall. His eyes follow you everywhere. You look up at him wide-eyed and seductive. 

"Worried you can't keep quiet?"

You giggle. "I'm worried about you." She taps his nose and he scrunchs it up. He looks so young when he does it. 10 years gone like that.

"I can't believe I didn't see you at the party." You exhale twin streams of smoke from your nostrils. 

"I came late. It's stupid, but I couldn't decide what to wear. It's a kind of social anxiety but with clothes, just clothes, I think. I changed like a hundred times. That's another reason you can't come up. I already have too many clothes lying about on my floor."

"What did you end up wearing?" He's staring at you like he has X-ray vision.

"Oh, just this thing I made."

"Can I see?"

You raise an eyebrow. You take the cigarette from his hands and take a puff. "See!" He exclaims. "Even you prefer it."

"Hush," you say. You press the cigarette between your lips and stand to unbutton the black buttons of the coat. What you're wearing is little of anything. A pink, so pale it's almost white. mini dress so short he's sure if you bent over he could see your underwear. The garment fits you like a glove, obviously hand-tailored to fit. 

"You made that?"

You nod. "It's a hobby of mine."

"Let me come upstairs," he says.

"No," you say, sitting back down. "We'll definitely have sex if you come up." You grind your cigarette on the metal stair tread. "What time is it?" You reach over for his wrist before he can look himself. "11, hm."

"This isn't right. Don't let some roommates get in the way of your fun."

You raise an eyebrow and suppress a smile. "My fun? I think you mean your fun."

"Our fun."

You think for a minute. Hum and look around the room. Then, back at him. "No, but I'll check if they are here for you." 

You stand and shrug your coat off fully, throwing it over your arm. He's worked up a heat in that lobby. He follows you up to the second landing just outside your apartment door. You shake your head disappointed. "Two sets of shoes." You gesture to the dirty Converses outside the door. "They're both home."

He's luring, standing over you with a look that makes you weak in the knees, unable to move. The scent of his cologne is intoxicating when he pulls your body against his, like an open fire in the woods. He looks down at you, determined and unhesitating, and says flatly, "How sad." 

He leans down with a kiss: full-on and inflaming. Your skin burns from the inside out. The taste of whiskey lingers on his lips; the tenderness of his kiss is a surprise. The tip of his nose bumps into yours as you sink into the kiss. His kisses are long and slow, matching the rhythm of your bodies moving as one.

He breaks away, leaning his forehead against yours. "Let me feel your pussy. Yeah?"

You're hypnotized and with a nod and a returning kiss, his hand slides up your thigh, up to the hem of your panties, and carefully finds the skin underneath. Your breath hitches in your throat and you part your legs, as though powerless to resist. 

His breathing sinfully against your ear. Then, he slips one finger inside you. It's rough, almost desperate, but enough to make you throb for more. Biting back a moan, you lean against the door to find some much-needed balance.

"You're so fucking wet," he says, nearly groaning the words against your neck, taking a bite at it. Two digits in, he continues fingerfucking you slowly while circling his thumb around your clit.

He stares right into your eyes like he wants to see every sensation he's causing, he keeps bringing you closer and closer to the edge—and you're fucking ready to jump. With heavy breaths and electricity running up and down your body, you melt into his touch, doing your best to stare back at him. To you, it's a fucking challenge.

"Fuck," you moan. He grins.

You grab the back of his head, roughly in a desperate attempt to gain some control, but can't keep yourself from moaning loudly when he starts fervently kissing your neck like a fucking tootsie pop and he's trying to get to the middle. He pulls his fingers out and slides them up, rubbing my clit with just the tip of his index.

Then, you hear an upstairs door slam shut. You quickly come to a conscious state and reach down to push his hand away. He gets the message and helps you fix the skirt of your dress. He looks so rough and tempestuous but acts so precious and sweet, you want to keep him like a stray dog.

He pulls away when the footsteps down the stairs increase in volume. You act as if you are looking for your keys in your purse. He reaches down and takes a handful of your ass. You gasp and look up at him and spot who is skipping down the stairs. "Hey, Britt!" Too cheery but you always were an overactor in your middle school plays. "Where you headed?"

Brittany was a couple of years older than you. She's one of the few people you could consider a friend in your building. The rest were either crackheads and/or cat ladies that'll die in their own vomit. Brittany and her roommate were fun.

"Headed to Brad's for the night." Her on-and-off-again boyfriend. They were either back together now or booty calling.

"Have fun!"

She eyes him—you really should get his name—before she rounds the landing's railing. She can probably see his hand on your ass. "You too!"

You look at him as he watches for Brittany waiting to see her exit. Then, he snaps back and attacks your lips. His hands are quick, spreading up your thigh again. He touches your clit and you feel rushed.

"Oh, fuck—"

He moves his mouth way down your neck, gently biting your collarbone and your knees nearly give out, but he steadies you with his free hand. The pressure on your sweet spot; his lips wantingly kissing every inch of exposed skin; the audacity of this man.

It doesn't take long, a few more rubs and then he pinches your clit and you let go, unable to hold on any longer, and fall into him. Heart pounding, you revel in the euphoric feeling like a sinner who's found God. He holds you up until you find your footing. Your foreheads pressed together as you share shallow breathing nearly in sync. 

You laugh like a giddy little girl. "You're ambitious."

"Lucky you were wearing a dress and not down on your knees." His voice is low and husky, only weakening your guard.

"You probably would have already came by the time she interrupted."

"Wanna test it?"

*

a/n: this might be the prequel to "everything is romantic." i can't help it if all i do is write prequels & sequels!